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hellfire--cult · 2 months

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Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️18+: sexual tension, drinking, characters are drunk, clubbing, flirting and pining, i won't spoil the content of the chapter

wc: 14.5K

A/N: It's been... months. I know this. I got into a real bad writer's block and I am not sure it is entirely gone, but I have finally finished this chapter after struggling. I don't like how it turned out, feeling like I was all over the place with the idea and no matter how many times i proofread I just cannot get it right, but I hope that for the next chapter I do better! I hope you enjoy it and I am so sorry for taking so long!

Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!

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CHAPTER 16

“Wayne…”

“It’s not that bad Eds, with the medication and all–”

“You don’t understand pops. This– Fuck Wayne… You can’t leave me like this, with this condition of mine I– I have no chance of a partner… I will be alone…” He couldn’t lose Wayne. He didn’t want to believe what he read in the doctor’s verdict after many tests done on the old man.

The medication would only stall the end. There is no chance that lung cancer can be cured, and if there is any at all, it should have been caught before the spread… which did not happen in this case.

“Eddie, you don’t know that… And you don’t know if I will leave you son, don’t get rid of your old man just like that.” And Eddie could see Wayne’s eyes glistening with tears through the camera on his phone. He knows his uncle did not like these results either. He knows. Eddie could only think of the test results and knew how much money the chemotherapy sessions would cost. He knows that medication and hospital bills will go off the roof and Wayne’s retirement money is not going to cover it all up.

So Eddie has to make a decision. He needs to make money, lots of it, and his auto shop in the city is doing amazingly well. He needs to leave Wayne behind at Hawkins, even if it hurts him. He needs to take care of Wayne. His friends are here too, and Argyle was also planning to move here. He wanted to at least try to keep Wayne healthy. As long as he possibly can because with Wayne gone…

He would end up all alone.

He lets out a grunt as he secures the last lug nut of the center hub of a tire with his impact wrench. He turns it off and places it on the floor, rubbing the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He looks at his watch and stands up, wiping his knee that he used for kneeling.

“Gareth, did you finish the–”

“Yes, I fucking did, and it was a bitch, and I don’t ever want you to put me through that again.” The younger man whined as he tried to scrub off the excess of grease that was on his hands. Eddie winced at the sharp tone of his voice, but Gareth needed to learn how to do it, sooner or later.

It’s not an everyday occurrence to fix someone’s motor. A point where it’s not working but not broken enough for replacement. Breaking it apart, bit by bit in order to find the problem of it all and then putting it back together. It’s extensive, and it hurts your brain but someone’s gotta do it, and Eddie had already done it several times-

“I will put you through it whenever I want. Remember that you take thirty percent of what this person pays for fixing it. It’s not a cheap fix, maybe you can finally go to Hawaii.” Eddie chuckles and Jeff snorts in the background as he stops inspecting the motor of a car in order to laugh. Gareth scrunches his nose at both of his friends.

“It’s not wrong for me to want to be on a nice beach, drinking a coconut and then splashing on Caribbean water later on! Maybe even have a nice cute Hawaiian girl dancing next to a palm tree.” Gareth sighed dreamily while Eddie and Jeff turned slowly towards each other and let out a very ugly laugh.

“Okay, um, nice imagination there Gar.” Jeff chuckled as he went back to checking his own car and Gareth simply huffed, puffing his chest out.

“You’ll see the pictures and you’ll envy me.” And he pushed by Eddie, walking towards the large sink that’s at the back where the toolboxes are. Eddie has a smile on his face as he then shakes his head and hunches over to see Gareth’s work on the engine. He inspects the bolts’ placing, if the vents were positioned correctly and–

“Boss, she’s back.” Jeff sings with a wiggle of eyebrows and Eddie raises one of his at him and then turns his head to see a woman, arms crossed over her chest, office attire on, short black skirt, black blazer with a baby pink blouse peeking from the V cut.

Compared to Eddie, who was wearing a white wife-beater and some overalls covered in grease, one strap down, and a messy bun on his head to keep the hair out of his face, and probably more oil. His eyes scanned the woman again, from head to toe, and he felt a little bit excited about seeing her.

“My favorite customer.” Eddie smiles as you tap your foot on the floor, wearing your low heels that are formal yet somehow modern.

“I swear to god Eddie, I am cursed. I am losing my patience with my car.” You whined out which only made him roll his eyes. For the past two months you and he had become friends, your car had to go into his shop many times because one week was the oil tank coming off and the next it was your radio malfunctioning, and Eddie had told you, time and time again–

“Your car is shit sweetheart.” You only gasped at his words and shook your head.

“No, it is not! It’s a little old, yes, but– It still runs.” You said, proudly so, sticking your nose up which only made Eddie squint at you.

“Mhm… and what happened to it now?” He asked with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes followed yours, and he noticed it. He saw how your eyes flickered to his biceps, how they puffed thanks to the press. He held back a smirk as your eyes found his again, your posture becoming straight once more.

“Well, I feel the brake pedal a little bit hard to press. It started this morning.” He tilted his head in confusion at that because he had looked over your brakes, and they looked fine, almost the best thing in your whole car. His eyebrows were furrowed together as he scratched the back of his neck in thought.

“Alright. Let’s go see.” And you gave him a nod before walking out from the open garage door. Eddie looked to his side as he followed right behind you and Jeff only winked at him before proceeding with his own car. Eddie rolled his eyes but then, when they centered back, they fell on your behind.

The skirt hugged you tightly, and it was the right shade of black for you. It wasn’t too short nor past your knees. It was a simple office attire, something that shouldn’t get him going the way it is. And it has been happening more and more as time went on. Ever since that stupid night where he got to taste you, even if briefly, it was enough for him to admit the attraction he had for you.

He had been trying to push that urge away. You are a friend, you two share the same group of people, and it would be stupid to enter into a physical relationship with you… But fuck if he didn’t want to turn you around, get your ass on top of the hood of your car and raise your skirt far enough that you would reveal yourself to him.

He wanted to wreck you, ravish every single part of you and his curiosity of how you are in bed sometimes gets the best of him. The whole year filled of pent up anger and frustration over you didn’t exactly leave. Even if you were at the top of his hit list before, you were also this forbidden fruit for him.

He had looked at you many times when he was supposed to despise you in body and soul. He hated himself when he caught his eyes staring at your cleavage more times than they should. Your body as it moved when you went clubbing with the whole group. Your lips against another person’s and how they moved gracefully against them.

And now, he tasted them. The softness, the flavor… and fuck he wanted more of that. It was greedy, he knew that, and he would have stopped these thoughts and these urges…

If it weren’t for the fact that he knew, he absolutely knew, you felt it too.

Ever since you broke up with Billy, the physical touches became more frequent, tentative, testing, and only just barely. A graze of fingers, a press on the shoulder, a bump, a shove. He could feel your eyes, he could feel you scanning him from head to toe whenever you all got together.

He noticed how unsatisfied you were, whenever you complained about the hookups you had been having lately. He wondered if you were ever fully satisfied with Billy, but maybe your feelings made you feel like you were.

And he wanted to show you just how good he could make you feel. He wanted to show you what his body could do, what his urges could impulse him to do, and what his tongue could provoke. He wanted to brand himself in your brain and on your skin, mark himself in your memory.

He wondered now if he could make a dent in your hood from how hard he would pound–

“Are you listening to me?”

Your voice took him away from his thoughts, and he nodded at you as he wiped his hands with the rag he had in his back pocket. You had turned around, at some point, and to be completely honest, the need of tainting you didn’t leave him one bit as he saw your scrunched-up face.

“Let me check the pedal, first and foremost.” With that, he rounded your car that you parked at the front of his shop, and he opened the driver’s seat. The smell of your perfume filled his nostrils and he took a deep breath in and leaned down, bending over to reach the brake pedal and press on it.

Only for his hand to stop in the middle of it as a laugh exploded out of him.

“What? Why are you laughing!?” You asked, confused and stunned as he straightened up and held his hand up that now held something, your face flushing in embarrassment as you choked on your words.

“Isn’t this fucking adorable.” In his hand was a small hand-sized plushie, a Squishmallow to be exact, and it was a little bat. He squeezed it a few times and he assumed it was kind of like a stress ball for you.

“I– It must have… fallen from my purse…” You wanted the earth to swallow you whole, Eddie could sense it, so he chuckled and squeezed it hard.

“I might keep him as payment. Matches my tattoo.” And he noticed your eyes drifting to his right arm and then back at the plushie, rushing over to him to try to snatch it away, only for Eddie to be quicker and move his hand all the way up. You frowned at him, a challenge in your eyes.

“You know what I will do if you don’t give it back.” And oh he knew. He is expecting it. He yearns to feel your body against his like that time with the Pringles can. The way you clawed up on his body, your nails digging into his shoulder as your chest was almost at his eye level when you tried to reach for the can.

“You cannot do that now, your ass will show.” He only smirked at you as your mouth opened and closed, like a fish, and you looked at the bat plushie in his hand. “You didn’t have to make an excuse in order to see me, Peach.”

You scoffed at him and shook your head as embarrassment washed over you. He could easily keep pushing your buttons, but even he knows about work schedules. Begrudgingly, he handed over the small plushie to you and you snagged it out of his hand in a second with a glare in your eyes.

“I didn’t. You and I both know that.” You turned around to face your driver’s door, putting the plushie inside your bag again as you fixed things around and Eddie couldn’t contain himself. He wanted to have a smell of your perfume coming off from you. He leaned close, breath at the back of your neck and his voice three tones lower, sending shivers and electricity down your spine.

“Do we now?” He saw your shoulders tense slightly and he wished he could see your face. More confirmations that this thing was not one sided. He took a breath in and your scent is floral today, sort of, matching the air around you, the incoming spring.

What he didn’t expect you to do was to turn around with a small smirk on your face, a cocky one and it made his eyebrow go up in question. Your eyes stayed on his as he tilted his head to urge you to talk.

“Sounds like you were the one who missed me, Munson.”

And that really sent him close to the edge. He wanted to shut that pretty mouth of yours up. He wanted nonsense to come out of your lips. He wanted his name to be said, to be yelled as you unravel under his touch. Drooling so much that you wouldn’t be able to formulate words.

“Cocky, aren’t you Peach?” You rolled your eyes at him, those pretty eyes he wants to see rolling to the back of your head.

“But you are not denying it.”

And oh you are playing a very dangerous game here because–

“Eddie, I’m sorry to interrupt your flirting session–” Gareth interrupted and Eddie almost growled at his friends as you stuttered, looking at his friend.

“Gareth– It’s not–”

“Sure, whatever you two say. Eddie, Mr. Gomez called. Said he wants to book a service for his collectible.” And Eddie groaned at that, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He was the only one in the shop who had enough training and experience to work with delicate cars. He is the only one that can take this kind of tedious and slow job.

“Right.” He sighed in defeat as he slowly turned to look back at you, his arms crossed over his chest. “That’ll be a hundred bucks.”

Your mouth fell open as your hand raised and swatted his shoulder, finally letting out a held-in chuckle from his throat, prompting you to smile as well. The relationship was different, yet it wasn’t. There’s just this back and forth between the two of you, more than simple bantering, more than simply getting on each other’s nerves.

And he takes full responsibility for it, the question is… do you?

“No. You even tried to kidnap Carlisle.” Eddie frowned at the name, not understanding what you meant for a second, to then snort out, his eyebrows raising up in surprise as he looked at you.

“You named the plushie Carlisle? Are you serious?” You gave him an offended look and raised your nose at him. He wanted to crack up, but he held it in, you looked way too adorable to say anything about it.

“You named your Mustang She-ra.” He groaned and rolled his eyes, hating the day he told you about how he always puts a name on his most precious things. His electric guitar is called Gilda, while his van is called Kratos.

“At least she is known, I don’t know where you got a name like Carlisle–”

“Twilight.” And Eddie could only hold it in for one more second before snorting and looking away from you, pressing his fist to his mouth. You only rolled your eyes at him and gave him a small shove on his arm which only prompted him to keep chuckling.

“Of course it’s Twilight.” He only comments as he turns to look at you again. You flipped him off as you got into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut. He smirked as he crossed his arms over his chest. “No payment?”

“You want a kiss or something Munson?” He knows it’s a joke, he knows it is but he also feels and hears the suggestion, the small and indirect invitation. He only smirks as he bends forward, his crossed forearms coming to a rest on the rolled down window as his face moves close to yours.

Your eyes express confusion, but your body movement betrays you as you don’t move away from him, not even an inch. His grin is visible and his gaze holds fire and want as he quickly looks over your lips and then back at your eyes.

“Can’t get enough?” His voice was low, and you felt your whole body grow goosebumps at it and how intensely he looked at you. It was just one push and your lips would touch his, you could taste him again, and even more than before… but you can’t. You both can’t.

So you pushed him off on his shoulder, making him chuckle and stumble away from your driver’s window, still looking down at you. You cleared your throat as you started your car again and fixed the rear-view mirror. Your eyes lit up and looked at him once more.

“Oh, today we’re doing the pre-game at my apartment, so just bring whatever you wanna drink Munson.” His eyes widened slightly at that but still nodded at your instruction. It’s been a while since the group went out clubbing, and it would be the first time he and you would also go out on good terms.

Before, when clubbing, you two stayed as far away as one could, the only incident where he got close being the one where a guy didn’t understand the word ‘No’. Now there’s no need for that separation, for that space… Would you two dance together? Hopefully not… because you don’t trust yourself not rubbing your body seductively against his. And he doesn’t trust himself in not grabbing your hips to pull you flush against him.

‘Get yourself together.’ You repeat in your head to yourself. Eddie is a friend. Just that and nothing more. He can’t be something more. It’ll ruin it. Curiosity be damned.

“Alright, we’re going to Scorpion, right?” You nodded at the name of the club, and he gave a hum of approval and tapped on the hood of your car to get you going. “Go before you are late to an important meeting or something, Miss Executive.”

“I do my job well, what can I say.” Your voice is confident when saying that and Eddie has no power in teasing you about it. He liked it when you were sure of something, much more when it came to yourself. “See you later Eds.”

“See you later Peach.” You gave him one small smile before you got out of his parking and drove off. He let a loud sigh escape his lips as he looked towards the sky, not noticing he was holding one to begin with.

How the fuck is he going to survive you tonight?

He remembers the outfits you wore when going out, and he had stared more than once in a single night. He hated you more than he did at the time for catching his eye. The dislike he felt for you gave him the stop sign to not flirt with you, but now– the only stop sign there is, is doubt.

He is perceptive, been so since a teenager, but you feel like a challenge. He never once doubted when approaching a woman to take home for the night, never had a long-term lover either, but you are different. Everything is different.

Even if you two have the same attraction and same need, how can he be certain that it won’t be weird afterwards? How can he be certain that it won’t destroy the group you two finally can enjoy together and in peace? Is he ready to sacrifice that in order to have a piece of you?

Now let’s say you two do end up having sex and continue doing so… what happens when one of you two decides to end it? Go for an actual relationship? How are you two going to face one another once that whole sex-buddy thing wilters into nothing? He doesn’t even know himself. He had always been confident but– this situation was new.

You’re no stranger. And that makes everything much more harder than before.

“Eddie! Mr. Gomez!” He can hear Gareth screaming from inside again and he turns with a groan and a frown on his face.

“I am going! Fucking christ!”

Those kinds of thoughts might need to be left aside for now.

—--------------------------------

You looked in the mirror to look at yourself one more time. You felt your heart race slightly from time to time and your belly turning as well, as if you had butterflies from nervousness and anticipation blooming inside.

And you know why. And you hate the fact that you know why.

You had cursed at yourself when you promised you wouldn’t shave and yet you still grabbed the razor that was sitting on the corner of your bathtub. You said you wouldn’t do a lot of make up to impress, yet you did a full face. You also said you were going to wear something comfortable tonight, not wanting anything but to have fun with your friends.

And now you had some high-rise oxford pants with a short crop top that had long bell sleeves, and high heels on your feet. Pants you often used to show off your ass when dancing. You wanted to literally punch yourself because you know who you want to show off to.

Why would you do this? To get some reaction from him? You already made up your mind that nothing was going to happen between the two of you. It cannot happen. The circle would break if you do… but maybe you end up not liking it and he feels the same way and you two end up as friends only?

That would be the best outcome. But what if you do like it and he doesn’t? That would make you feel horrible, and you know it because you want him to like it. To like you. To worship your body. You want him to remember you and even consider you his best. Maybe it is to show him what he has been missing for so long if he hadn’t been a douche from the start. Maybe it is because you just have an ego problem.

Either way, Eddie has made his way into your brain almost every day… and even in your dreams.

The first time you dreamt of him was after the quick peck you gave him back at his house. You went to sleep, a little bit of a carousel going on in your head thanks to the alcohol you drank that night, but even the spins didn’t stop your mind from imagining things.

You remember it, vividly so. He was at the end of your bed, standing and looking down at you. You were naked and felt as if you were burning all over, goosebumps forming in need of touch. His touch.

He was shirtless, and you could imagine it perfectly thanks to all those mirror stories he posted on Instagram. You could remember every tattoo he had. His chest, his neck, his arms… You remembered them all, even the smaller ones, and you wished you knew the ones on his back if he had any.

He leaned down, planting a kiss on your collarbone first, and you could feel the stubble on his face tickle you, send shivers down every skin cell of your body, goosebumps worsening. His hands, his big ringed hands that also were filled with ink, trailed your sides, exploring you and taking in every dent, curve, and chuckling at the feel of that chicken skin he provoked on you.

The chuckle sounded too real, so low that you truly believed he infiltrated your dream with a superpower he hid from all of you. Had he engrained himself in your brain so badly that you didn’t miss a single detail? You hadn’t noticed how much you’ve been wanting him till that night, and your body and brain let you know of that fact.

‘You won’t be able to fuck someone else ever again after me. Trust me on that Peach.’ That’s what he said before trailing his lips down your body, making you arch your back as his teeth often nibbled at different parts of your skin. You wanted those nibbles to turn into bites, teeth marking you, making you bleed, digging into the cells of your body until you were consumed by him.

He was reaching that part of you that ached for touch, for friction, for satisfaction. That part of you that can try to make the fire inside you diminish if touched or worsen it, but you wanted to find out. His lips kissed your hips, hands gliding downwards as you looked down at him only to see him looking back with a grin on his face.

You let out a moan as you parted your legs for him to slot better in between them, his teeth biting a little harder at the skin on your hip in approval. You saw him slowly lay down on his belly, his smile never leaving his face as you felt a breeze on your wet center. It felt too real, too vivid, too lucid. You felt the coldness of it, the air, the pleasure around your clit thanks to it.

But your body betrayed you that night and you jolted awake when your phone loudly rang, and the first thing you felt was the wetness between your legs. For Eddie. For Eddie Munson. You were wet for your past enemy, who became your friend, and now–

You didn’t know if you wanted to kill the person on the other side of the phone or thank them for stopping you from imagining stuff like that. It was just a wet dream you had and a friend was the protagonist. Those things happen, they’re normal… The problem was that the normal thing would be to feel weird and disgusted by it, but you felt the complete opposite.

You wanted the dream to continue. You wanted that dream to go on and dream of what it would feel like to have his tongue on you and inside of you. You wanted to know if your imagination was kind enough to let you feel it entirely, just like everything else. But it cannot happen. You should have been glad it stopped where it did.

But the dreams didn’t stop, and sometimes you found yourself daydreaming in your office about them again, making you straighten up or jolt whenever you caught yourself doing so. You couldn’t let your body indulge in it, and much less your mind.

It was no use. He just kept appearing in your instagram stories, and your eyes always looked for him in every room whenever you knew he was near or was going to be present. You are always eager to see him and it drives you mad. He drives you mad. And you hate him so much for making you realize–

That you want to ride him until he sees the earth from the moon or beyond.

Back in the present, you clench your eyes tightly so that you could forget those images, or how he leaned over today and his breath hit your face as well as his stupid cologne. It was leathery today, but also the hint of car oil lingered on him, which only made your stomach turn harder.

He knew what he was doing. You knew what he was doing. Is he brave enough and has the guts you don’t have to take the risk? Does he have the same lingering thoughts you do? The what ifs? The consequences of it happening? If he didn’t he would have done something already… right?

You can’t take that step yourself, afraid of ruining it all. You finally can be at peace in your circle of friends, you repeat this to yourself every time you think about him as more than just a friend. When you think about his naked body against yours. When you think of how he would feel inside of you.

Would he be able to satisfy you? Fill you?

You doubt it. But, what if–

You jump in your place as a loud ring snaps you out of your thoughts. Your intercom goes off as it yells at you that your friends have arrived. You took one last look at yourself and nodded as you promised that this thing you were doing wasn’t for Eddie. It’s just a passing attraction. Something that will die down soon if not indulged.

You sprayed one last bit of perfume before heading out of your room and into the living room area. You looked at the screen to see Robin smiling close to the camera with Steve and Jonathan behind her, waving at you. You shook your head at the goofiness of your friend and pressed the button to let them in, hearing the buzz through the speaker. They walked in and you unlocked your front door for them to just walk in.

You could feel your stomach turning a bit still, wondering if he would be in time, or if he was coming at all, and… the dread of seeing him with someone tonight. You didn’t think of that. Oh god, you didn’t think of– Why are you worrying? Isn’t it best if he goes with someone else tonight? Maybe if you see him with another woman, these desires will vanish… but what if it does the complete opposite?

What if you wish to be her? But he is nothing to you, just a friend, that’s it… You shouldn’t care if he goes with someone else, you really shouldn’t but why do you feel like you would be sort of hurt about it? Why do you feel like you are losing?

What did Eddie Munson do for your brain to be this mushed because of him?

You couldn’t think too much of it because Robin walked in, holding a bag as if in victory, letting you know she brought vodka for tonight. You winced towards Steve as he walked in through the door, already sighing at the night ahead of him as designated driver for her and Jonathan. Argyle was the designated driver for Nancy, Eddie and you.

“I swear Robin… I know it’s been a while since we’ve gone out but–” Steve started only to receive a glare from your best friend as Jonathan closed the door behind him.

“It’s been months! Plus, we can finally pregame all together!” And you were excited for it too. The pregames before being Eddie’s friend were a little tense, always on edge of saying the wrong thing in front of one another and making the night a bitter one.

Now another type of edge is nestled within you. Between you two. But it’s as if you cannot control yourself when around him. You always give a remark, a word, or a sentence with a double meaning, or you always one-up him in his closeness. If he brushes his thumb against yours, you brush your five fingers at the top of his hand.

If he makes a joke with a flirty tone, you follow it through… like today, asking him if he wanted to kiss you again. He was the one who continued it, getting close to you, testing you, not even in a teasing manner. You know it’s not one-sided. This thing that is going on is affecting the two of you, and it’s a matter of never doing anything about it or… waiting for who breaks first.

“Chill Robin, it’s going to be a calm night.” Is what you say but do you truly believe it will be? The twisting in your stomach came again so you walked towards your kitchen to get some beers out as the rest walked in, ready to prepare the glasses, snacks, and drinks. You immediately popped open a can and took a chug out of it, wanting to quench whatever was inside your stomach.

“Is it?” Jonathan asked with a chuckle, looking at how you immediately started drinking. You glanced at him and gave him an innocent smile, receiving a roll of the eyes back as he leaned over the island counter to grab a beer himself.

“Ugh…” Steve groaned as he looked at the beer, crossing his arms over his chest. “This is certainly not fair.”

“I drove us home last time. I held myself back because I knew you wouldn’t.” Jonathan chuckled and his boyfriend only glared at him in response, opening his mouth to say something to him only for the ringing to start again.

Goosebumps raided your skin from neck to toes. You moved a little too quickly as you walked out of the kitchen to rush to the intercom, looking at the screen. You felt your stomach twist when you saw him putting a cigarette out with a stomp as Argyle talked to him. Nancy was only shaking her head as she looked into the camera and waved.

You bit your lip as you pressed the button, taking a deep breath in as it buzzed. Eddie looked up into the camera before walking in and he smirked, flipping his middle finger up towards you and that made the tension in your stomach loosen a bit. A chuckle escaped you as you shook your head at his antics.

You can do this. If you keep this friendly banter like you always do it will be an easy task. It should be. You took a swig of your beer as you looked at the door and then back at the kitchen.

You have to appear uninterested because if you do, you will believe it. You have to believe it. Nothing can happen between the two of you, and it should be clear that it shouldn’t because your friends are in the kitchen, and more are coming up. This wouldn’t have happened months ago. Eddie entering your home wouldn’t have happened, ever.

You should appreciate what you have and stop asking for more. Stop desiring for more. Stop dreaming for more. It’s enough as it is, what you two have is enough. He’s been a great friend to you, letting you vent, lending you a shoulder, making you laugh, and it should be enough…

But that stupid fucking kiss always comes back.

The door opened making your head turn to see Argyle walking in first and immediately walking towards you to give you a kiss on the cheek as a greeting. You rolled your eyes as you smelled the weed on him already.

“Hello hello, my dudette.” He smiles at you as he looks behind him, making your eyes follow his gaze. Your breath catches in your throat as you see Nancy walking in, followed by Eddie who is holding a six-pack with one hand, the other stuck into the pocket of his denim jacket. Black shirt hugging his torso, tightly, the tattoos poking out from the small V-neck it has.

Your eyes drifted lower to see his signature dark pants with a few rips here and there, and then you went upwards again to see him in his– Your eyes widened when you just now realized he had his hair down. Your heart seemed to stop as you held your breath in because you only saw his hair down in those half-naked pictures he took of himself in front of his bathroom mirror.

And fuck– fuck–

“For fuck sake Nancy, told you you tightened it too much.” Eddie groaned out and you had to look away, you had to. But you couldn’t. He had you in a trance as Nancy rolled her eyes at him.

“Not my fault your hair is frizzy and untamed today!” You tried to control your own breathing a bit. He definitely caught you off guard with this one. You fucking swore his hair was tied up downstairs when you saw him on the intercom screen.

You snapped out of it by Steve yelling at Robin to stop. You sighed in relief as your eyes finally left his figure, landing on the kitchen’s open door, and seeing Steve taking the bottle out of Robin’s claws. You smiled knowing that she must have poured too much vodka on her drink, never knowing how to measure correctly.

“Oh the rest is here, Nance you’re gettin' lucky tonight!” Argyle yelled, not realizing just how loud his voice was. You snorted and looked away for Nancy to not see you laughing, covering your mouth with your free hand.

Eddie chuckled seeing Nancy’s reaction, her face beet red, but your snort made his gaze turn towards you and– God fucking damnit. You’re not playing fair. You really aren’t. He felt the sharp intake of breath that entered his lungs as he scanned your body, slowly, taking every inch of you and your outfit.

He knew it was going to be a hard night for him if he was going to hold back, but he never thought he was gonna go to war.

His hungry eyes scanned your figure, your neck, your shoulders, down your body, taking in every fucking detail he could. Your breasts, your hips, your thighs, your inner thighs… He was desperate to taste you, to try you, to have you.

“Don’t laugh!” Nancy’s yell made him snap his head back to his best friend as she continued talking, “Eddie needs a ponytail.”

The man mentioned only rolled his eyes, landing on yours again. You were already looking at him, and he noticed the little gleam behind them thanks to your whole facial expression, your body language.

The way he noticed how your breath picked up, your chest moving a little more elaborate than a normal pace, or how your eyebrows were sort of tense. Your eyes were open, yet he noticed how your top lids were slightly dropped. Your hands were gripping the beer can, tightly, and your legs were crossed while standing.

He could almost smell you from across the room.

“Here Nance, take these to the kitchen while Peach gets something to tame all this.” Eddie motioned to his hair and Argyle only laughed as Nance grabbed the six-pack from Eddie’s hand and walked into the kitchen.

“Can’t give you any tips my dude, my hair ain’t the same form as yours.” Argyle says before following behind Nancy. Your eyes followed them and then went back to Eddie who was already looking at you with a smirk on his lips.

“Can you tame it?”

And that question shouldn’t have made your entire insides turn. It shouldn’t mean anything but him talking about his hair, but you know it has a second meaning. You know it. He knows you know it and that’s why he does it.

So you always play along. Because you know it affects him as much as it affects you.

“I bet I can.” Your voice was low, eyes staying on his as you talked. His head tilted slightly in amusement, the tip of his fingertips itching to reach towards you, show you exactly just how untameable he was.

“Would like to see you try Peach.” And he took a few steps towards you, slow, boots hitting against the wooden floor, loud steps that matched the volume of your own heartbeat. He reached out and grabbed the can out of your hands and took a swig out of it. He then put it back in front of you, waiting for you to take it as his eyes held a challenging gleam, as if this was another test.

You knew he was playing cat and mouse with you, but you didn’t know who was who. Were you the mouse? Were you the cat?... No, you weren’t mousy anymore. You two were the hunters, but neither dared to pull the trigger to get the prey.

But you weren’t going to let this fucker get away with doing these kind of things so he would make you drool over him, to make you look desperate for him. Your body though… your body wants to see him squirm.

You grabbed onto the can and slowly brought it up to your lips, your eyes focused on the lid as you looked at the small drop of beer that was there, where his lips were just mere seconds ago. Your tongue darted out, and you looked back up at him before licking the lid clean from the beer.

His smirk dropped, his cockiness gone, as all that’s left was fire. A fire that was spreading rapidly and you were holding onto the large folding fan, intentionally waving it with a smile on your face. You fucking–

“Alright, I’ll find something in my room.” You talked and took a full on sip of your beer before turning around and walking towards your room. Eddie’s eyes immediately fell on your ass, as you swayed it side to side and he only scoffed at the situation, at himself.

The idea of not having you so easily is what made you more tempting, and it made him even more desperate to get you. He wonders if one fuck would cut it. If one fuck is all he needs for his curiosity to be over with you. If one fuck is enough to satiate this need to completely destroy you, ruin you, and make you lose your goddamn mind.

He doubts it.

He follows you across the living room and then goes into your bedroom. He takes a look around and now, enclosed in a space with you, in a space that is only yours made your perfume, your scent, grow tenfold. It almost makes him dizzy and fold over from how sweet, yet inviting it was. He wanted to press his nose in the crook of your neck and breathe you in, let you engrave yourself in one of his senses.

“Tidy.” Is the only thing that comes out of his mouth as you walk towards your vanity to open one of your drawers. You felt your heart beating in your chest as your eyes drifted to the mirror to look at your queen-sized bed and your imagination started being evil with you and your body.

Flashes of him pinning you against your bed came in a rush, like a camera shutter, picture through picture. The positions change in every single one. You gulped as you felt your center throb in need, so you straightened up and clenched your legs together, looking back down into the drawer.

If you had looked at him for just one second there, you would have noticed how he was now looking at you. His eyes ablaze, breathing growing elaborate as his nostrils flared…

“Well, of course, I had guests coming.” You finally grab a simple black hairband and close your drawer to then turn to him, ready to hand it over. “Here you go.”

A boyish smile broke on his lips as he walked over to the vanity’s chair to pull it out and sit on it, facing the mirror.

“You said you could tame it. Prove it.” You were stunned as you looked at him on the mirror. He wants you to do his hair? You cleared your throat as you got behind him and he straightened up as his eyes followed you, as if they had daggers in them just piercing you through.

“I don’t want to hear pain complaints, Munson.” He only chuckles at you, his smile making the butterflies in your stomach multiply for a split second.

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” And you didn’t catch the ulterior meaning of that. Your hands went towards his hair, touching it for the first time. You started brushing it a little bit with your fingers, your nails scratching his scalp a few times, sending shivers through his whole body as you kept going.

“I’m not gonna use a brush, it will just make the frizz worse Eds.” You take the time to comment as you feel the static on his hair. He sighs, nodding at your response.

“I know. I couldn’t find my comb today, so Nance brushed it out.” You groaned at the response, your eyes furrowed in a confused frown.

“Nance has curls, she should know that you don’t brush them.” He lets out a snort at your response, and you are glad that even if you feel that attraction towards him, there’s no awkwardness between the two of you. It calms you down, knowing that if nothing happens, because nothing will, your friendship will still be there.

“Right? And then she blamed me for breaking her hairband!” He complained, making you giggle as you examined his hair. Your tongue stuck out in thought as you grabbed hair from his sides and you pulled them back to hold them together. You looked at him through the mirror and you held your breath as he tilted his head to the side, examining the new look.

You didn’t think a half ponytail would make a difference on his face but– fuck it fits him. You’ve never seen him with one before, and now you hate yourself for being the one who discovered this new look. The butterflies returned, and you shifted on your legs as your core throbbed once.

“Um… do you like it?” You asked, trying not to sound strained as if you weren’t about to choke on your own drool. “I think that a bun is going to be untameable in a room full of sweat.”

He only chuckles at your thoughts and doesn’t miss the way you gulp or shift in your place as you look at him. Do you really think he doesn’t notice? Do you really believe that he is not looking at your every move?

“It’s different but– Can’t say I dislike it. It’ll do for tonight.” You nod and let go of the hair. You are now more precise in the amount of hair you are grabbing, combing it with your fingers before pulling it back. You want to mess with him as you see him close his eyes, enjoying the moment. You bite your lip, smirking, and you pull hard on his hair, making his head reel back.

“Oops– sorry–” But your voice is cut off as a groan, a growl to be precise vibrates in his throat, his adam’s apple going up and down, and you hear him take a sharp breath through his nose. His jaw clenches as his eyes open and–

“I dare you to do that again, Peach.”

Your whole body burns. The way he was looking at you is just– it was strong, threatening but not in a bad way. Not in a murderous way. It was something else… something that gave you the feeling that if you followed through and pulled his hair back again, the thin line that was separating ‘Friendship’ and ‘something else’ was going to break.

You want to pull it back. You want to. You want to see what he would do if you played the brat. You want to know what he would say. You want to test it, to try it, to taste it. Taste him.

But you let go just a bit as you nod, taking a deep breath in and looking back down at the hair, trying to not let him see how flustered you got, how nervous you feel.

“Sensitive.” Is what you managed to reply with, trying to keep the act that it was just a playful act and that it didn’t faze you. Trying to keep the act that you are not fucking horny for the man that is sitting in your room. Trying to keep the act that you do not want him to push you onto the bed and take you like a fucking animal.

Eddie’s body is a furnace. He wonders how much he can push you to the edge until you absolutely break. Until you are begging for him, until you grab him by the shirt to kiss him senseless, for him to experience a true kiss with you. What the fuck did you do to him? He has to pull himself together. Even if he is willing to take the chance and make a move, it doesn’t mean you are willing to take that same risk.

He understands you and respects you above all. If it happens, it happens, but it would never be without your consent. But he is not reading the signs wrong. He is reading them correctly and very attentively.

Right now you could have followed his lead, but you didn’t, so he will back off… for now.

“No, it took me a while to grow all this amazing hair. I won’t let you yank it and destroy it.” His tone became playful once more as you tied the bun behind his head. He smiled again towards you and you returned it, a little forced. He wants to smirk knowing that he made you a little nervous, not in an uncomfortable way.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Your hands finally leave his hair and he looks into the mirror and turns his face a couple of times, a raised eyebrow in exaggeration that makes you roll your eyes.

“Acceptable.” You scoffed at his simple response and he chuckled, getting up from the chair and towering over you once again. He turned to look at you, his eyes finding yours as your bodies stood a little too close to one another. You didn’t know if you were breathing correctly or not at this point. “Thanks Peach.”

“N-No problem.” Fuck, you stuttered. “Anyways, let’s go back with the others before they think we killed each other.”

“I mean, we could have also fucked, but yeah, we should go before they drink everything.” And just like that, as if he hadn’t said the most shocking thing, he walked out of your room, leaving you completely frozen. You were staring at the door, mouth slightly open, eyes completely still in position as your blood began circulating again.

Your body was on fire, your mind a mess, mixing with his scent and with his words, making matters worse for you. You felt your heart beating in your chest as little butterflies flew all about.

You have to keep your head centered, your mind needs to recollect itself because you cannot show this in front of your friends. And that made you look at yourself in the mirror, face relaxing a bit as your shoulders slump down a bit. Friends. Yeah. You need to keep yourself under control, you are not an animal. You can fight this urge, you had before in your life with other people, you surely can now.

He is a friend. This crush, this attraction, will pass if not indulged.

You managed to take a deep breath before walking out of your room, grabbing your beer from the vanity, and seeing your friends having moved their endeavors from the kitchen into your living room. Your eyes fall on Eddie immediately as he sits down on your couch next to Steve, beer in hand and listening to his best friend.

“Now that’s a new hairstyle.” You heard the freckled man comment as you walked towards the chairs they grabbed from your dining table, putting them around the coffee table where all the drinks and snacks were placed. You sat down next to Robin who was preparing Nancy her drink, making you wince at the amount of rum she was pouring in.

“Robs, maybe let others manage the drinks?” You commented, making your friend glare at you, putting the bottle down.

“Why? You got something to say about my bartending abilities?” And Nancy only winced next to her, taking the glass Robin was preparing and pouring half of the rum into an empty cup. Robin’s mouth fell agape as she looked at her girlfriend.

“You do make them pretty strong baby.” You noticed Robin’s blush and you held in a smile as you looked to your front, seeing Eddie looking at the same thing, his eyes clashing with yours with a smile on his face.

You were both happy your two friends finally made it official, but it was still pretty funny to see Robin blush after acting tough and dominating in the flirting stance of the relationship. It’s a funny dynamic to watch. Robin huffed and helped Nancy fill the rest of the glasses with coke as you took a sip of your beer.

“So, this bouncer is a regular at Jonny’s?” Eddie asked as he looked at Steve and then back at Jonathan and the latter nodded as he drank a bit of his drink.

“Yeah, he’s gonna let us go in for free, even give us two free drinks and VIP section.” At his words, Steve frowned.

“You sure he isn’t trying to come onto you? Does he know you are taken, my love?” Steve’s voice was syrupy, making you giggle into the can as you looked back and forth, but you had to be honest and say that… it did sound compromising on the other guy’s part.

“Pretty sure, he is married, has two gorgeous kids even.” Jonathan smiled but the mention of kids only made your stomach curl slightly. You looked down at your can, not noticing the pair of brown eyes staring at you, gaze softening as he watched your body language.

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to suck your cock Jonathan.” Eddie says and that made you spit your drink into your can, followed by your laughter, making him smile while looking at you. “You know I’m fucking right!” and you could only nod at that.

“Y-Yeah! It– It doesn’t mean anything Jonathan, oh my god…” You coughed as you tried to stop your laughter, the comment catching you completely off guard. The rest of the group was laughing except for the couple that was just frowning, one in confusion and the other in anger.

“I– I swear it’s not, it’s just– He is a regular with his other friends…” You knew Jonathan was putting the puzzle together in his head while Steve only groaned exasperated, shaking his head at his boyfriend.

“We’re not going.” His voice was low as he took a sip of his beer and everyone, including yourself gasped and started complaining at him. Argyle even stood up, pointing a finger at him.

“The other guy already compromised, when he sees Jonathan with someone else, he can’t say ‘no, you cannot go in!’” He stated and you nodded wildly, looking at Steve with pleading eyes.

“If he does, his intentions would be obvious! He just won’t invite Jonathan again!” Eddie nodded at your statement and looked back at his best friend. There was a hidden intent in his mind to try to convince his friend.

He wanted to watch you dance in that outfit.

“Yeah man, he already told Jonathan he would let him through.” And Steve only groaned in defeat, rolling his head exasperated.

“Fine. But I will punch his face in if he tries anything at all and I hope I don’t see him in the bar either after this.” He takes a sip of his beer while Jonathan rolls his eyes, sitting on the floor next to Argyle once more. Everyone else let out a sigh of relief and the music played in the background.

And after a few drinks, cans of beer, and a few little games–

“Okay no, I didn’t say that! I said–” You yelled with a slight slur as everyone else tried to hold in their laughter, Eddie chuckling as he shook his head.

“You literally said, HEAR ME OUT, when I sent you a video of Venom… of Venom, Peach!” You were laughing, your eyes slightly red as you sat next to Nancy in the backseat, Eddie sat in the passenger seat, and Argyle was driving, completely sober. Nancy was cracking up as she patted your shoulder a few times.

“You’re fucking right though!” She said to you and you turned to face her and nodded wildly with excitement in your eyes.

“Right!? It’s the tongue!” And you two could hear a groan of disgust from Eddie and Argyle at the front of the car. Eddie was buzzed as well, eyes glossy from laughing the whole drive to the club. He has been going at you from a past conversation you two had with your weirdest crushes.

He thought his were weird… he was wrong.

“It’s– He can literally eat you alive in two bites!” Eddie yelled as he ran his hands over his face trying to stop laughing and Argyle only nodded his head, looking at Eddie for a second.

“Hot.” And Argyle’s response made the three intoxicated people in the car start laughing once more. When Eddie and you are together with your friends, the flirty bantering drops completely, and it’s moments like these that fill you with joy. It’s just when the two of you are alone that somehow the flirty remarks escape your mouth.

You don’t want those moments with your friends to be filled with awkwardness, or nervousness if something were to happen between Eddie and you. You might lose that forever, and not to mention losing Eddie as a friend. You doubt that friendships remain the same after having sex with each other.

But the beer in your system tonight… it’s being your worst enemy at the moment.

After parking and getting together with the others, you all walked the block towards the club. You could hear the music thumping already, making your excitement grow as you all went forward to the VIP line that was forming outside. Eddie stood behind you as Jonathan stood in front of you all.

His hand rested on your lower back as he guided you in front of him through the line so people wouldn’t bump into you, and you couldn’t even feel the chill of the night because of it. Not even after everyone got inside after Jonathan proved that the guy, the bouncer, was actually being friendly with him. The club felt humid, hot, and you still felt the lingering touch of Eddie’s fingers on the small part where your skin showed between your top and pants.

Your mind needed a distraction from it all, but when you turned and saw how the lights of the club hit his face just right, you felt your stomach do a complete turn, twisting into itself. He was smiling as Steve laughed about something to him while you all walked towards the bar. You had to get yourself together, this cannot happen, not at all. Your urges can be satisfied with someone else, or by yourself.

But you weren’t the only one who couldn’t look away. Eddie noticed it. All the time. He knew that his mind, even if hazy, wasn't playing any tricks on him. He looked at how you leaned over the bar, giggling with Robin next to you and pointing to the card to see what you would order. His eyes scanned all over your body, slow, and uncontrollably so.

The alcohol is making his desire even worse than before and his rational mind is slipping away slowly, that little thread of doubt of making the next step disappear each second and song that passes.

His eyes widen with Steve when he sees the bartender hand you a bucket full of ice with champagne and redbulls inside while Robin grabs various glasses. You turn with a smile on your face as you walk over to them again, Eddie crossing his arms as he scans you.

“Well, you gonna share?” He manages to speak loudly over the music as you smile up at him and shake your head.

“Not with you Munson!” You giggled at him as Nancy guided you all to an empty small table for you to put the bucket on. He laughed as Steve rolled his eyes, huffing again for not being able to drink at all as they walked to the table.

“Robin! Get your hands off the champagne bottle!” Eddie yelled as he snatched the bottle from Robin’s hands, causing the blonde to pout at him.

“Fuck off Eddie!” Suddenly, the table rattles as someone deposits another bucket filled with ice and beers. Steves turns his head to see Jonathan smiling widely.

“Invitation from the bouncer. His wife is the cashier of the bar!” Steve only rolled his eyes while everyone cheered for the free drinks. Eddie popped off the champagne easily as you jumped in excitement next to him. He chuckled as he began pouring the drink halfway into the glasses. You helped by pouring the redbulls in, filling them all up to the brim. Everyone except for Argyle and Steve grabbed glasses and clinked them together before starting to drink.

The buzz was good, minds becoming even more blurry and hazy than before, yet keeping the consciousness intact, except for Robin because she always poured too much alcohol in her glasses at the pregames. Steve was trying really hard to take Robin’s drinks away but she only avoided him, grabbing Nancy’s hand and yours with the other. You giggled as you tried to keep your drink steady in your hand as Robin pulled you both into the dancefloor.

You laughed when Nancy and Robin sandwiched you in between them as they grind against your body, listening to SZA playing in the speakers, the lights blinding you slightly, making you a bit dizzy in a fun way. You took a sip of your glass as your hips moved from side to side, slowly, unaware of the brown eyes that looked at your every move from across the dancefloor.

Eddie chugged his champagne down, his eyes moving away from your body to try to think of something else, for someone to catch his eye and to occupy his mind but nothing worked. The spin in his head only made him turn his head towards you again. Jonathan was chuckling, pecking Steve on the mouth many times, trying to make his boyfriend laugh, and it seemed it worked.

Eddie’s drunken mind couldn’t help but wander to more dangerous territory, a place where you are still not there, and Eddie is thankful for that. When he sees Nancy or Steve, he wonders if there is someone out there for him. He wonders if he even has a chance. He wonders if there is someone out there that won’t let him be alone for the rest of his life like he always thought he was going to end up as.

But even his intoxicated mind sometimes connects dots, and he is stricken by the realization that… if he makes a move on you, what is going to happen later? What if it escalates into things he is not used to? What if he curses you with who he is? With what he is? Would you even want him if you knew half of what he was and is going through?

That only prompts him to grab another can of beer from Jonathan’s bucket. He opens it and starts chugging it, only to feel a presence by his side. When he looks down, his eyes clash with yours. You are smiling, and by how your eyes are half lidded, he knows you are drunk, just like he is.

And fuck you look hot like this.

“Give me one?” You asked, innocently, your hips swaying slightly to the rhythm of the music still, and his eyes darted downwards to them before looking away and getting a can out of the bucket. He was about to hand it over to you, your hand reaching out to grab it, only for him to rip it away again, making you pout. “Hey!”

“Magic word?” He grinned at you, wiggling the can in his hand. Your friends were oblivious to you two, already used to the antics of bothering one another. Nancy and Robin were making out on the dancefloor, Jonathan was pulling Steve towards it while Argyle seemed to spot someone and disappear into the crowd.

You stared at his hand and then back at him. The buzz made you bold, your worries slipping, your thoughts disappearing, making the impulsiveness take over. You wanted to mess with him. You wanted to tease him. You wanted to be mean, desired, try to make that thread that separates friendship to something else waver a bit.

You took a step forward, your body sticking to his, and your eyes never left his in every movement. His eyes didn’t widen, but his breathing became elaborate as you raised yourself on your tippy toes in order to get closer to his face. You could smell the beer from his breath, the wooden cologne, the sweat, and it made your insides turn and melt in need.

His eyes went back and forth between your eyes and lips, not knowing where to stay. He felt his belly burn and ache, twist as your perfume invaded his space, your body heat invaded his own, and all worries started to vanish again. All thoughts, all rationality were rendered stupid as he looked at your lips.

“Please…?” It was soft, a whimper, a moan almost. Eddie’s brain short-circuited, not noticing his arm lowered as his eyes looked into yours. You were so close, and all he needed to do was wrap his arm around your frame and lean down, take your lips into his, kiss you stupid, senseless, make you yearn for more.

You were trying to keep a cool exterior, but inside you were in flames. Would it be so bad to have a taste? Would it really cause all the chaos your sober mind conjured up? Would it be so bad to kiss his lips again? To tangle your tongue with his? Take him properly?

He tilted his head slightly at you, the music, the people, all just became muffled background noise. He could feel your chest moving up and down, your breathing turning quick. He didn’t even smirk, not a grin, as he lowered his head towards you, his voice lowering a few tones, but loud enough for you to hear him. His lips were almost brushing on yours as he spoke.

“Please what, Peach?”

You felt your knees becoming weak, wobbling slightly at the closeness. Your heart was in your throat, beating intensely, making your breathing elaborate. His eyes were stuck on yours, waiting for your next move, for your next retort, to know if you would continue or if you would back out.

And you don’t want him to win. Not this. Not like your Mario Kart plays. He cannot win this. You won’t be the one to break. You placed your hand on his hip, giving it a soft press and you saw how he closed his eyes and you don’t know if it was the alcohol, or the vibrations of the bass in the club, but you felt tingling on your fingertips and what sounded like a groan vibrate in his throat before he opened his eyes again.

“Please Eddie…” His stomach turned at your whimper, at your pout, at the needy look in your eyes. You both don’t know what you were asking for any more. Your eyes were going back and forth between his and then his lips. He could feel his hip burning where you were grabbing him, his heart racing in need as his head moved forward, a magnet. He was going in and you noticed.

But it was short-lived, as you snatched the can out of his grip thanks to him being distracted and you took a step back and away from his lips. His eyes were wide, looking at you as you opened the can, moving your hips happily from side to side to the rhythm of the music, not looking at him at all.

You took a sip, and even if you wanted to look at his reaction, you turned and walked back into the dancefloor. Your nerves were all over the place, your mind twirling like a carousel because of the adrenaline, the alcohol, and the worry that the sober you will deal with the next day. And Eddie watched you walk away, his eyes burning and he did a quick turn to grab a can himself and chug it down.

He was angry. Oh so fucking angry.

He didn’t want anybody right now. He felt like a predator and he had to calm down. He had to drink alcohol for his mind to shut off, afraid of how he could act here, in front of all of your friends. He could care two shits for the strangers, he would fuck you in the middle of the dancefloor to show you who’s in fucking charge here.

Eddie didn’t like that thought. He cracked his neck and chugged the rest of the can down, hoping the alcohol would take effect soon. He spent the night talking to Argyle once he came back, who was not the dancing type, just like Eddie was. He had seen a few of his past hook ups walking by, batting their eyes at him, but he didn’t want anything to do with them. His arousal plummeted at the thought of sleeping with them.

After an hour, Argyle said he would be back only to leave Eddie alone again, but not for long. Someone patted his shoulder and he turned around to see Steve holding Robin up with Nancy on her other side while Jonathan held all their coats.

“Robin is already blabbering nonsense.” Steve stated and Robin giggled, wobbling in her place as she shook her head.

“You– are nonsense, dingus~” She slurred and Eddie couldn’t help but laugh and nod, looking down at Nancy.

“I am assuming you are going with them?” He asks, noticing his tongue is a little slurred too, his anger slowly lifting up as his friends offer distraction.

“Yeah– Can’t leave her alone you know?” He nodded at that and patted Steve on the shoulder and leaned forward to whisper into his ear.

“Go to Jonathan’s. Just in case.” At that Steve sighed and nodded, making Eddie chuckle.

“I’m not stupid, of course I’ll go to Jonathan’s…” He looked back at Robin who suddenly made a gagging motion and he immediately spurred into action, straightening her up. “Alright birdie, time to go before you make a mess of yourself publicly.”

Jonathan wobbled towards Eddie and gave him a kiss on the cheek and then a pat before walking out of the club first. Steve guided Robin out and Nancy gave him a hug and Eddie knew she was also drunk, hugging her back.

“Alright Nance, go take care of your girlfriend.” At his words, Nancy only giggled in delight as she pulled away and bounced a bit in her place.

“Girlfriend, she is my girlfriend, yes, I gotta go take care of my girlfriend!” With that, she rushes away from him, leaving him alone at the table where you all gathered your drinks. He looks around, the people dancing and walking around and he realizes it’s just you, him and Argyle… who he hasn’t seen in a while.

So he ventures forth. He leaves the table behind as he walks through the crowd of people, rounding the dance floor, and in just two minutes he spots Argyle with a chick. Eddie wanted to holler at his friend, but by the way she was dressed and from pictures Argyle showed him… this was the girl he had been seeing lately. His perfect date and match as he called her.

He took a step forward and he felt his mind spin slightly and now he is feeling that last beer he chugged. He felt light, with a good buzz, his limbs relaxed as he looked into the dancefloor, and his eyes immediately found you.

You were dancing alone, a little bit of sweat on your forehead, moving your head from side to side to The Weeknd playing through the speakers. His feet moved automatically towards you, unable to control himself. His anger from before was coming back up again, but it wasn’t in full force.

You were oblivious to your surroundings, not noticing you were dancing alone at all. The beer you stole from Eddie was still in your hand as you took sips, your hips going from side to side. You wanted the distraction, because your mind was becoming less rational, less conscious of your decisions, impulsiveness taking hold of your body movements the more you drank from that can of beer.

Some people call it liquid courage, but for you tonight, it was liquid demise. Much more when a strong hand pressed on your shoulder, making your eyes open and turn around, trying not to tumble in your place. Deep brown eyes with red all around were looking down at you with an eyebrow raised in question.

His forehead was a bit sweaty, so his fringe was sticking to it. His hair was a tad greasy, making it look kind of wet, which only added more to the look. Your stomach only turned even more at the sight, and he leaned forward, his breath hitting your ear which made your center only pulse for him, asking for him.

“Everyone else left Peach. Argyle is with Eden in a corner here.” He whispered to you and you nodded a bit, but words were stuck in your throat from how low his voice sounded, of how close he was. His breath sent shivers down your spine as it hit your ear, squirming at his mere presence. You licked your lips as you took a sip of the beer and he pulled away.

“What happened?” You slurred and Eddie only laughed at your tone making you pout. He noticed the pout and he bit his bottom lip in order to not succumb to the alcohol’s impulsiveness.

“Robin was about to pass out. Nance went with her.” And it dawned on you that you two were alone… the only friend in the club was occupied, distracted, eyes averted from the two of you.

“How come you are not drunk?” You yelled through the music with your pout intact and he rolled his eyes, which was a bad idea because his head only whirled around and he only laughed, making you tilt your head confused but still smiling at his display.

“Oh, no, I’m drunk– Trust me, that last beer is starting to hit.” And you noticed the slight slur in his words, making you bite your bottom lip as you saw him smile, his canines showing in the middle of the purple lights of the club.

The song ‘Pray for me’ started playing and you threw your head back in delight as your hips started swaying seductively, taking a sip of your beer. Eddie’s smile slowly dropped as his eyes scanned the expanse of your exposed neck, the sheer sweat and glitter on your skin as he throbbed inside his pants for you.

You opened your eyes again, a smile on your face as you let the impulsiveness of irrational actions take over. You grabbed his hand, ignoring the shock that was sent to your fingertips, smiling innocently at him.

“Dance Munson!” You yell through the music as you turn around in order to give your back to him. He sucked in a sharp breath as you moved in front of him. His eyes roamed your body as it moved from side to side and his hands itched for more. You were still holding his right hand and his throat bobbed as he felt shockwaves through his body thanks to your touch.

You knew what you were doing, but you couldn’t care anymore. Your rational mind was gone, even if conscious and knowing what you were doing, you cared two shits for the consequences of your actions. Will you regret it the next day? Probably, but right now you just want to bask in this attention, in this need.

You took a sip of your beer as you moved lower, your ass almost touching him as you swayed it, and then straightened up again. Your breath catches in your throat when the hand you were holding lets go and starts gliding over your arm, slowly, and then goes downwards to grab onto your hip.

A strangled moan escapes your lips when his body is suddenly pressed against yours. His chest on your back, and his hips against yours. His other hand went to your hip but moved a bit more to your front, pressing the side of your belly with the tips of his fingers. That simple action made your pussy clench onto nothing.

You feel his hips moving slowly against yours and you press your ass onto him even more. You have danced close to Steve and Jonathan before, even Robin, but with him it was different. This wasn’t just a friendly dance. This is so much more. Every touch means so much more than just that. Every movement was intentional now, the alcohol controlling the both of you as the music guided your hips.

His face came close to your ear, his breath hitting your skin again, and your heart jumped to your throat as his fingers dug into your hips, your flesh, and it was making those areas burn. Your hips moved very slowly, never stopping as he talked lowly to you, tickling you.

“What do you think you are doing Peach?” You licked your lips as a sigh escaped them afterwards. In all honesty, you didn’t know, your mind is not ready to think of an answer to that right now. What were you doing? What was your plan? What’s going to happen?

That’s something you can worry about tomorrow.

You slowly turned around in his arms, looking up at him, squinting your eyes. His face was close, his breath and scent driving your senses to an overdrive. Your eyes were half-lidded thanks to the intoxication in your body, and his face was showing hints of redness as well. His right hand rested on your hip still while the left one moved upwards, getting hold of your waist.

“I’m just dancing… with a friend.” He wanted to laugh at your response. You were such a fucking bitch. You still dared to call him a friend after your words, after your ass pressed against his dick. His face became stern as he looked down at you, his fingers giving a warning press onto your hip.

“You are overdoing it tonight, sweetheart.” It was a threat, a line he was drawing between the two of you. You knew you were. You knew you were being a fucking idiot, but you couldn’t help it. Your eyes were fixated on his lips, and you shouldn’t do this while drunk. You shouldn’t but– when else were you going to?

Your arms went upwards and wrapped around his shoulders, the can of beer gripped tight on your left hand as you looked up at him. You pressed your chest against his as the hand on your waist moved towards your back, splaying his palm over the expanse of it to press you into him.

You two were drunk. Not smashed, but you can both blame it on the intoxication. It’s a good excuse. A perfect one. This is just the alcohol’s doing, just the stupidness of the drinks you took through the night taking effect. It was an opening, a leverage, an opportunity.

And you were going to take it.

“Oh, and you aren’t?” You mumbled as you pressed yourself closer to him, and everything around the two of you ceased. The music became low, suppressed, and reverbed even, as your ears pulsed at each bass drop. His body was broader than yours, his body felt hot against yours as his hands gripped you, his head lowering with a smirk in his face.

“Did I? You sound bothered.” Your lips were almost there, about to touch, even if barely. His breath was mixing with yours. You could smell the beers, and you could feel how hot the air around you two was. His fingertips were driving you insane, and your impulses talked for you.

Fuck this.

“Shut up Eddie.” And you connected your lips to his. Your brain short-circuited, completely, it felt as if the oxygen left it, leaving only fog, haziness, bliss. You sighed into his lips as he breathed out a moan, a very low satisfied moan.

He didn’t hesitate to move his lips against yours this time. This wasn’t going to be a peck. He needed to kiss you correctly, as it should have happened. His grip on you became stronger, his blood pumping rapidly through his body as the alcohol and hormones started to fight his consciousness, what little was left.

You dropped the can to the floor, not caring where it landed, there wasn’t much left anyway, you needed to grip his hair, get your fingers through his locks the way you have been wanting to do for so long. So you did just that. Your hands ran from the back to his neck towards his scalp, fingers digging where they could, the tightness of his half ponytail already loosened through the course of the night, letting your nails run freely.

Your lips melted perfectly with one another’s, satisfaction in both of your hearts, but you know this won’t fill you. You know this satisfaction is temporary, a small victory, so you will enjoy this for as long as you can.

He groaned into the kiss when he felt your nails scratch his nape. He felt himself twitch in his pants, wanting friction against you as he let go more each second that passed, which was dangerous. The hand on your hip traveled south, and ended grabbing a handful of your ass cheek, making you moan in surprise.

He took your moan as an opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth and fuck– fuck he was ruined. He was in trouble. You were so sweet, even with the beer taste still lingering in your mouth, on your tongue, you tasted so sweet. Like a fucking peach. He couldn’t help the possessive moan that escaped him as he gripped your ass tightly once more.

You felt wetness pooling between your legs, the idea of doing something you really shouldn’t adding to the adrenaline, to the sensuality of the situation, but you couldn’t care less right now. All you could think about was Eddie. Eddie and his taste. Eddie and his tongue. Eddie and how fucking good of a kisser he is. Eddie and his big hands grabbing onto any part of your body that he could right now. Eddie and his tattoos. Eddie and his shirtless pictures. Eddie and the happy trail that always peeks out when he takes them.

His tongue danced with yours, desperately, sloppily, all saliva and teeth, as if this was something you two have been yearning to do for more than you actually think. And maybe it was indeed that way. You just wanted to keep kissing him, but you also wanted to take him home. You wanted to fuck him. You need to fuck him.

And Eddie won’t be satisfied with this. He knows it. Even in his drunken mind, he knows he won’t be happy until he has you completely. He fucking hates you for this, but he just decided to not care for the consequences. Sober or not. If he doesn’t have you anytime soon, he is going to explode, that’s how he feels. He needs to consume you. Taste you. Claim you. At least once.

You two don’t know how many minutes you spent it making out, like two horny teenagers, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care at all. Everything else didn’t exist right now. It was just the two of you, and your eyebrows twitched as you opened your eyes through the kiss and–

Oh, you were completely drunk. Opening your eyes was a mistake.

You pulled away, recovering your breath as your head fell backwards, eyes closing as your consciousness started to slowly slip away from you. Eddie’s eyes widened, his protectiveness overlapping his lust and his intoxicated state. He held you tightly, feeling you grow limp with each second that passed. He was breathing heavily as he looked at you, shaking you a bit in order for you to open your eyes.

“Peach? You alright?” His worried voice felt like a distant echo. You just wanted to sleep, your mind feeling as if it were on top of a horse in a carousel. It wouldn’t stop spinning, and you were starting to feel so sick.

“Mmm…” It’s all you managed to voice out as you opened your eyes, just a bit, and Eddie noticed that the last beer hit you harder than it should have, and what you two had done just now probably made it worse.

“Alright, time to go home, let’s get Argyle.” He held you close, and the only thing you felt was as if you were floating. The lights in the clubs were dizzying, your head swirling and your stomach ache worsening. You couldn’t even think of regret for all the drinks you took. You just want to be at home and make this uncomfortable feeling wash away.

You know you were being carried, moved, and it all felt like a rollercoaster. You don’t even know if you puked or not. All you know is that at one point the flashing lights stopped, the hum of an engine was heard, and then you swayed from side to side as your head laid somewhere. On something strong.

The often pinch on your waist waking you up from falling into slumber. More swaying, more ups and downs, and then your feet were no longer on the ground. There were warm lights, and the sickness sort of dulled through this whole amusement park tour you just did.

Then, softness. Just softness. You could finally close your eyes, hoping for this feeling to go away. Hoping that tonight would be forgotten, or hoping that whatever happened tonight would be enough. Sleep overtook you quickly, easily, but your dreams decided to still invade you. Sober you will wake up tomorrow… and probably regret it all.

But… that’s a problem for the you of tomorrow. For now, you’ll just enjoy this dream. One where a certain metalhead touches you all over, his tongue running on every inch of skin, kissing you senseless as he rubs onto you, caressing you. This was the only way it would happen, wouldn’t it?

And you slept soundly, with the scent of cologne all around you.

The wooden cologne.

end of chapter 16

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A/N: I DONT' THINK I CAN APOLOGIZE ENOUGH FOR HOW LONG I TOOK IM SO SORRY.

Taglist is closed! I will start deleting people that do not interact with my posts.

Taglist: @katethetank @seatnights @bebe07011 @seventhlevelofhell

@babez-a-licious @arsenicred @bl4ckt00thgr1n @harrysgothicbitch

@fictionalcomforts @sarcastically-defensive17 @lodeddiperrodrick @corrodedcoffincumslut @ghost-proofbaby

@take-everything-you-can @nope-thanks @eddiesxangel

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rebelliousstories · 1 month

Text

Protector

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Ailments and Sickness

Word Count: 1,073

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: Running a fever and having to deal with medical shenanigans is a recipe for disaster. Thankfully, a certain Cajun knows how to keep calm under pressure.

Consider Donating: Here

There was nothing fun about being sick, anyone will tell you that. What is worse is being sick in a home full of people with powers. And yet, no one can heal whatever ailment she had. It was ridiculous. She was not sick enough to go down into the infirmary, but just enough that she was staying hopped up on DayQuil and trying to rest as much as possible. But she still had tests to grade, and assignments to make, and none of this could be done from her bed. It had to be done at her desk so she actually got the work done.

“Ma cher, da Gambit is here. Where ya at?” Bumbling into their room with a card between his fingers and a new bottle of Jack Daniels, her boyfriend had come in. She tried to call out to him, but was cut off with a cough that revenged her throat.

“Oh, cher. Whatcha doin’ now, huh? You ain’t supposed to be up if you feelin’ like dis. Come on, to bed wicha.” He slid across the bedroom, and set down the objects in his hands in favor of helping his lover.

“No. I’m glad you’re back Gambit, but I’m fine, sweetie. I need to finish my work and then I can go to bed.” Remy leveled her with an unamused expression as she turned back to her work.

“How long you been workin’ at dat?” He questioned, coming over as he was still dressed in his suit. Taking off the long leather trench coat, the man ran a hand over her shoulder as she did not take her eyes off the pages.

“Ever since I finished my classes for today.”

“You did your classes today feelin’ like this? Mon amour, you must take care of yourself.” He pulled the fingers off of one hand and pressed it against her forehead. It was starting to feel clammy and hot; she had a fever coming on, and she was being too stubborn about accepting help for Remy’s liking.

“You’re burning up. Come now, cher. You go bed now.” But no matter how much he tried to move her, she remained stubborn and resolute.

“No Remy, I’ve gotta get my work done.” She protested.

“Yes. Come on.”

“No. I can’t take any time off.”

They went back and forth for a minute or two before the man releashed his touch on the woman and hung his head.

“Why won’t you just take some time to recover, cher? These can wait.” Remy, once again, tried to reason with her.

“No, they can’t!” She screamed, throwing her hands up in frustration. “I’ve gotta-”trying to form the proper words to convey her frustration, her breath skipped. Once that skip happened, it was all over. Her heart began beating hard and fast. Her hands were shaking. She was hyperventilating. She was sending herself into an anxiety attack.

As soon as he recognized what was going on, Remy jumped into action. The other set of fingers came off, and soon he was wrapping her up in his arms. Pulling her into his chest, he began stroking her hair and trying to calm her down. Her tears continued to fall. They fatten with each passing second, and showed no signs of slowing. He showed no signs of letting her go, out of comfort. Which was the same reason she was clinging to him now.

But he just provided her the comfort that she needed in that moment. He slowed his breathing, and placed her head on his chest. Remy’s hand grasped one of hers, and rubbed soothing circles on her knuckles. She was starting to slow her breathing, following Gambit’s lead, and was letting out quiet sniffles as she was resting against his chest.

“There, there cher. You gon’ be alright,” Remy whispered, and pressed a kiss to her head. “Just let it out. You gon’ be just fine.”

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, “I’m just- I’m so overwhelmed. I hate being so sick. And I can’t think cause my head is all stuffy. I’m worried about getting droplets on my papers from coughing, but I’m more worried about coughing because I don’t want to spread this to the kids. But I need to finish these before tomorrow. I promised I would have these done by tomorrow.”

Remy’s heart broke at the sight and sound of his lover. Her own downfall was going to be her steadfast nature to stay ahead of her work for the school. But surely, this was not a matter of life and death for anyone.

“Dey’ll understand if you take a lil longer for how you feelin’. Come on, you not gonna do any good work like dis. Let Gambit take care o’ his cher. I make you a thing of Nawlens syrup. Best thing my mama ever make for me when I was sick.” With that, she finally conceded and allowed him to help her to bed. Remy sat her down on the bed, and turned to give her a pair of pajama pants. He set it down on the bed, averting his eyes from her, and only turned around when she tapped his shoulder. Gambit took her clothes and pulled back the covers as he watched her crawl in.

The man disappeared into the bathroom afterwards to change from his suit. He heard rustling from inside the next room, but felt better knowing that she was finally taking care of herself. Slipping into a cut off shirt and some sweatpants, Remy opened the door to the bedroom to see an adorable sight. His girlfriend was lying in the bed with her face smushed into the side of his pillow. Making his way to the bed, Gambit felt bad for disturbing her, but it must be done. He grabbed her and realized that she was already fast asleep.

Remy sneaked underneath her on his side of the bed, and replaced the pillow with his own chest. She moaned, squirmed, but ultimately resettled in her new spot. While she drifted off, Remy stayed up for a little just watching her sleep. He was always going to be there to tell her to take a break. He was always going to be there to take care of her. Even if she did not understand why he did or said what he did or said, he knew why. Everything was done to keep her safe.

#rebelliousstories #writing #remy lebeau imagine #remy lebeau #remy lebeau x reader #gambit x reader #gambit #gambit imagine #xmen imagine #x men comics #x men movies #x men imagine #x men

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arabaka · 1 year

Text

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ miguel x spidey!fem!reader. CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ !!! NO SPOILERS !!!! splashes of angst. unprotected sex. creampie. cervix fucking. WORD COUNT: 1.8K PSD CREDIT!!! MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI !!!!!!!（ ꐦꉺωꉺ)つ @miguelism @pompomegranate come get ya mans !!!!! PART TWO HERE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You can still see him here.

It’s not real and it never will be– not again, anyways.

“March 13th.”

How long are you going to keep doing this? Your jaw tenses. Here we go again.

The argument is a solo act; there’s no one to talk to here but you. So naturally, you run the same trite script until it comes to the same inevitable conclusion: giving in to the self-indulgence.

The bad thing’s already happened. You lost Miguel– well, more like he lost you. You’re the one trapped in this purgatorial vortex. The space that lies between every what if, the border of every possibility.

And it’s so fucking lonely.

So it’s ironic that your multiverse jumping wristband is good for anything but its intended use. It mocks you, its amber projections burning red when you even so much as try to go home. Not to your original timeline– to HQ.

To him.

But you know that will never happen so you make do with what you have: the memories stored on your gadget, the device looking worse for wear with jagged claw marks running down its sides, disappearing into the scarred flesh that lies beneath it.

He didn’t mean to hurt you. You know that.

You wish you could tell him.

You (metaphorically) furiously fan away that cloud of remembrance. You’re already stuck, no need to dwell on the last time your heart was ripped out. You lie back, resting against nothing but floating amongst everything. Limbo sure is weird.

Arm resting over your stomach, you train your eyes on the happier time playing out from the screen on your wrist. It’s not perfect; the vision cracks, sometimes glitches in reds and greens before going back to normal. It’s getting worse.

There you go again! We’re trying to have a good time here.

Right. Right.

Sorry.

Focus.

You take a deep breath, chest rising and falling steadily.

Focus.

You close your eyes and when you reopen them, fix them on the screen that shows you strutting in Miguel’s domain, it’s like you’re there.

It’s like you’re back home.

“You gotta eat, you know.” Tossing a paper bag way up high, it doesn’t surprise you that he catches it with lightning fast reflexes, even with his back turned to you. “And if you don’t, I’ll make ‘em take empanadas off the menu.”

He’s still. Only sound coming from him is the rustling of the bag. At least there’s that, you think as you approach the floating platform. “Don’t make me come up there!” You holler, though you only get your own echo in return.

Shit. He’s in a mood.

Throat flexing with a thick swallow, you decide to go up anyways– you sure don’t want to wait for him to come to you. Thing’s slow as hell.

Webs whipping from your wrist, you fashion a slingshot apparatus to propel you yards into the air. Nothing beats the rush of a flight, even now as you descend into what could be a particularly thorny situation with a particularly grumpy man.

But he’s your particularly grumpy man.

“Hey,” Your voice starts softly, “Everything–”

He turns around, stopping you in the middle of what was going to be your magnum opus of pep talks to show he’s got a mouthful of doughy goodness that keeps him from talking. And when he swallows, there’s a damn smirk waiting for you to kiss.

You don’t fall for it, at least not now but god do you want to. But first…

“Asshole!”

“You just jumped to conclusions.” Another bite of the savory empanada just to tick you off. You’re so cute when you’re annoyed, even if it’s all in good fun. Your cheeks puff up and your nose scrunches when your eyebrows furrow. He’ll kiss you if you won’t.

“Oh, real mature. Hiding behind–”

In a flash, the empanada goes back in the bag and in red glowing binds gets fastened to the side of his computer mainframe, freeing up his hands to pull you close. A little too roughly, but you melt into his big frame regardless, lips pursing against his and giggling when you can taste meat and spice.

“How romantic.” You mutter and he laughs.

God, his laugh. Nobody heard it too often– nobody but you, that is.

When Miguel was with you, it’s as if you two were in a world of your own. A timeline of your own. Where past transgressions and terrible happenings were nonexistent. Where he could be him, the man he was supposed to be: sweet, charming, and kind. And where you could love him like he deserved.

Is someone else filling that role now?

Great! You’re thinking too much again. Stop fucking this up!

“June 27th!” You blurt, warped back to reality when your thoughts strayed too far from the projection.

The picture’s changed now. You’re home, your residence littered with reminders of Miguel. It’s empty, but not for long. The front door slams open and you and Miguel come pouring in, him taking the lead as the two of you blindly navigate the foyer with your lips locked and hands gripping each other for dear life.

Your cheeks in real time burn. Maybe you shouldn’t stay for this memory.

Oh, don’t be such a prude. It’s literally you! The little voice in your head chastises and honestly… You can’t argue with that.

“M-Miguel, I don’t– I don’t have– I’m not on–”

“Shut up.” A tempered hiss is pressed to your lips, thick digits coming to frame your face as he pushes you further into the space you’ve come to share together. “Or I’ll change my mind about filling you up.”

You can’t argue with that.

“Say it.” His growling crests your ears, breath hot and fangs out just moments later when his pelvis is flush against yours, cock buried to the base in your sopping wet pussy. You swear he’ll drip drool on you at this point, the man driven to the brink of his sanity by the way your cunt hugs him so tight. It’s like you want to milk him for all he’s worth.

Your hands paw helplessly at his chest, all your energy zapped as your eyes roll back under the curtain of fluttering fluffy eyelashes. “F-Fuck Miguel– f-fill me up!”

“Keep going.” His voice is low, rich and dark.

The fat head of his cock presses up against your sensitive bundle of clitoral nerves, slamming hard when you whimper and cry for him, “Right there, right there!” You start to babble, the words freely flowing from your kiss-bruised lips because your brain is long gone, “F-Fuck me, need your cum– need you, need you, Miguel! Please don’t stop, please!”

“Yeah? Can’t feel whole without my cock? Need it?” His tone seeped in pride, he loves seeing you unravel for him like this. “I’m givin’ it to you baby, right where you need it. You feel that? Your little pussy crying for me, so fucking wet. Fuck, you’re so good. Good for me.” He’s kissing you now, sloppy and panting into your mouth before his tongue ravishes yours and swallows every moan you give him.

Your legs locked around his waist still bounce, hips raised off the bed by Miguel’s brutish clutch so he can bully more of himself into you, harder and faster. Your lower body limply follows his every move, takes every slam and thrust all the while wet squelches fill the room. Your vision finally coming back, you see his nostrils flare and his eyes glazed over with a beastly kind of lust. It’s enough to make your bones shiver.

You can’t help but let your gaze rest there, even as he fucks you within an inch of your life, always so fervent with his thrusting as he stuffs you full, but you just can’t get over this view: his pectoral muscles flexing when you tighten up around him in just the right way, the way sweat gathers on his brow before trickling down his sharp jawline, and the way his lips stay agape because if he’s not groaning, he’s growling.

“That’s it, mi vida. Doin’ so good. Pussy takin’ me all the way in. Shit– I’m addicted. Might just fuck you raw every time. Want that?” One hand comes to your face, thumb just barely squishing your cheek and making you pout. “Say it.”

“Y-Yes, yes! Please Miguel!” Tear drops glimmering in the corners of your eyes, you plead for him, “C-Cum inside me, I’m getting close!” Every sense of yours is on fire, everything burning bright for him and only him. Always for him.

And you see a similar inferno explode in his narrowed eyes just then and it’s immediate, the way he unhooks your legs from his waist and bends them aaaalllllll the way back until your knees are violently knocking against the mattress, his lumbering body taking yours in the mating press he so adores.

Because he gets to fill you to the brim. Bump and grind against your cervix until even that soft nodule is his. He’s staking his claim, making you his as the soles of his feet dig deep into the sheets, his toned limbs caging your bouncing body until you’re nothing but a squealing little mess for him to clean up.

His balls slap firmly and roughly against your folds, sticky webs of cum starting and breaking each time he snaps his hips. Your walls tremble around him, gushing out more of your essence every time. You’re just about undone. He can feel it.

But so is he, his already thick cock pulsating with another rush of blood as the coil in his stomach heats up. He puts all his weight into you, onto you the last couple thrusts – he knows you can take it – so he can kiss you. So he can taste you.

“‘M cumming, c-cumming…” Your words are muffled and tired, eyes wheeling back as your orgasm hits you hard and heavy, Miguel following soon after with plenty of cum to fill your pretty pussy up with and an animalistic series of grunts as his cock twitches and throbs inside you. It’s thick and so much, too much so that the opaque matter starts to pool out when his hard shaft finally leaves you, giving your featherlight folds another heaping layer of viscosity.

“‘Tch– it’s comin’ out already.” He huffs, though with a bit of a laugh. “Can’t have that.” So his fingers gather what’s remaining and slip into your cunt before he pops another kiss to your parted lips, nipping just a teeny bit on the bottom half to get you to squeal one last time for him.

And that’s how the video ends. That’s how you finish, having followed along with lithe fingers rubbing your aching clit and one or two at any time plunged and crooked inside you, but it’s not the same.

It’ll never be the same.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel smut #miguel o'hara smut #atsv x reader #atsv x you #spiderman x you #spiderman x reader #.˚₊ ੈ ʚ 📝 ɞ ₊˚. ꒰ marie writes! ꒱#.˚₊ ੈ ʚ 🍰 ɞ ₊˚. ꒰ a little treat for miguel. ꒱

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bb-eilish · 3 months

Text

Foreplay

pairing; Anakin x fem!reader

a/n: I'm taking requests rn, the more gross and taboo the better pls!!

not proofread, directly from my brain to the internet

It was odd honestly. You've been dreaming of your sex life for forever now and it's actually started, though it was after you started your 20's. You couldn't really complain though, you couldn't really say a whole lot at all when Anakin's cock was usually lodged down your throat or buried as deep as possible inside you.

It was like fire between you, liquid fire that threatened to burn and never slow. The sex was great, obviously, but it was what was leading up to sex that swung you off your feet.

"My love? I'm finally back from the dealership. Almost had to sleep there". You hear down the hall, you were stuffed in your bedroom at the moment and Anakin had just gotten to your apartment. The smile that washed over your face wasn't even voluntary at this point, it was muscle memory. His large steps get closer until he's peaking inside the room, his gaze landing on your back as you sift through your dresser looking for something to sleep in.

"Took you long enough, you only left five hours ago". You chuckle, peering over your shoulder as he steps closer. So close that he wraps his arms around your middle; nestling his face in the crook of your neck. "I'm glad you're back, was worried I was gonna have to go to bed without you". Even with his face mushed into your skin he scoffs. "I'd run home before that could even happen, don't you worry, Pretty. Are you getting ready for bed?" He asks, unwrapping himself from you to search through the few drawers he's claimed in your dresser.

You open your mouth to answer but the words hiccup in your throat as he casually takes off his shirt. You've seen him naked a bunch now, but you'd never get used to such a sight. "Yeah...yeah I am, just gotta get undressed".

Anakin's eyebrow quirks at the small but very telling reaction. So he waits for you to find a shirt, your fingers hooking into the material you're wearing with the intent to pull it off, but instead you cast over a glance to confirm whether he's watching or not.

He is.

And it causes your skin to burn the second you meet his gaze, especially when that damned smirk ever so slightly pulls at the corner of his plump lips.

"What?" You ask softly, your stomach doing flips in your body.

"Keep going, we're going to bed aren't we?" The reply is teasing and you can feel your face heating effectively.

"I will.." You let out a nervous laugh, slightly lifting the material more to show him you plan on taking it off.

"Do it, or do you need some help?" He begins, taking a step closer. "Wouldn't mind helping my baby, y'know? Taking this off..." The air in the room feels like it's been heated up and yet sucked out at the same time. His fingers pluck your tank top's strap and pulls it, letting it snap against your skin.

"You're gonna let me help you right? Been thinking of you all day--these all day". Large, warm hands grope you over your bra and shirt, yet it feels as though there's no barriers at all. You let out a shaky breath and nod, gripping the edge of the dresser behind you.

"Words, Pretty, you know that". He scolds lightly.

"Yes...please, missed you". The breathy admission has a lusty smile etching its way across his face and he doesn't wait another second before he's pulling off the thin layer of your shirt; eyeing the exposed skin and the way your bra is decorated with the sinful sight of your cleavage.

"There we go, gotta take this off too, don't I? Pretty girl always needs my help, doesn't she?" He mumbles, his hands sprawl across your sides, goosebumps prickling over the affected area. He drifts his hands to your back, moving up to your bra clasp and removing it with practiced ease.

A shiver runs down your back, from the cool air and from the way he bites his lip the second he gets an eyeful of your breasts. A groan bubbles at the back of his throat and he's quick to press you into the dresser, his hands scrambling to scoop up your half naked figure and hoist you onto the flat surface. He's almost eye level with your nipples and it causes his pants to tighten significantly.

"So pretty, baby, such pretty fuckin' tits you have". A second later he's leaning forward and sloppily kissing your collarbone, his tongue pokig out at certain times.

His lips move lower and he drags his moist bottom lip down the valley between your breasts. The action has your heart stuttering and a gush of liquid to wet a spot on your panties.

"Anakin". You whimper softly, moving your hands to glide and explore his arms and torso.

"I know, baby, know you need me". He decides to stop teasing and to finally kiss in circles around your left nipple, soon taking it into his mouth and moaning like it was his favorite meal. Your mouth falls open and your hand grips the curls that rest at the back of his head. The way his tongue switches between harsh licks and gentle swirls has your mind becoming hazy and numb, Anakin prefers you like this. Needy, debauched, only thing on your mind being him and his cock.

A gasp and a choked moan leave you suddenly when he meanly bites down on your sensitive bud. The pain tingles into pleasure and you're squirming, the ache in between your thighs beginning to become a problem.

"Anakin, fuck, I need more, gotta give me more, please". You beg, the words a tad slurred as you dig your nails into his scalp and the skin of his sun-kissed shoulder.

He pulls away, his lips wet as he flicks his gaze to yours. "Poor baby, is your pussy already wet? Just from me playing with your tits? God, baby, you're such a pathetic little thing, hm? Can't even touch you without you wanting more". His words are meant to fully push you over the edge, meant to make thinking even harder.

You whine in response, dragging him closer. He offers a chuckle and a quick glance before he's digging his fingers under your pajama pants and dragging them down and off. He then pushes your legs apart, the grip of your thigh firm. Your bottom lip is trapped under your teeth as you take in his reaction, clenching around nothing at it.

"Tsk tsk, I knew it. Bet you're thinking of all the things I could do to you right now. Like.." He starts, his hand drifting to the wet patch on your panties and pressing into it. Your posture slumps further and you breathe heavy. "I could finger you first, press into that little hole of yours, maybe get you to squirt a couple times before I get my mouth on your clit".

He rips his gaze from where he thumbs your clit lightly, the action becoming harder as seconds pass.

"You always sound so pretty when I eat your pretty pussy. Or are you thinking about what I'll do when I finally fuck you? When I finally get my cock out and fill you up again? Could take you like this". He says, emphasizing his point by pulling you to the edge and letting you feel how hard he's become with a roll of his hips into yours. You whine but he keeps going.

"Or I could bend you over it, pull your hair". One of his hands moves up to grip the strands of your hair, a fist full as he pulls your head back. His tongue wets his lips before he sloppily plants wet kisses upon the column of your throat, soon moving to your ear and brushing over the skin of it.

A shiver wracks your body before he speaks again, his voice low and thick with lust as he almost whispers into your ear.

"Tell you how dirty, pathetic, disgusting, you are for enjoying my cock so much". He unfortunately pulls away a second later, an inch away from your face now, his hands back on your thighs.

"So, what'll it be, Pretty?"

#anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars smut #anakin skywalker fanfic #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen smut

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hyukalyptus · 1 year

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okay love? — yeonjun x fem!reader | bestie!yj gives reader her first orgasm. NSFW/MDNI!

cw. bestfriend!yeonjun, virgin!afab!reader, reader's first orgasm ever, pet names (pretty, love), cunnilingus (f. receiving), nipple play, unprotected sex (pls wear condoms), creampie, infidelity technically, chubby!reader implied. notes. i'm reposting some of my most popular/favorite works from my old blog! this was my most popular one, so enjoy again pls! smut under cut. wc. ~800

when u told him u were nervous bc it was starting to get serious with ur new parter and you think you might take that step with them soon, he almost couldn't believe you've never had an orgasm before? not even by yourself?

he just wanted to help out his friend. that's it. he swears. you tried to explain urself, but i don't know. i've just always been too nervous.

you think you're hearing things when he offers his help—just want you to be prepared is all. you agree, laying down on ur bed and letting him undress you so slowly, pressing his lips to the inside of ur hot thighs because i'm gonna start off really slow, ok? as he teases you with gentle sucks on the outside of ur pussy. you don't know how long he teases you, but he reassures you you can take as long or as little as it takes to cum, okay love?

you don't know why, but ur hips roll and buck, trying to get them up to his mouth. look at you, you wanna cum so bad already and i've barely touched you. tears already forming in your eyes, you can't help but beg yeonjun to please, i don't know what you're planning on doing, but just do it now.

but he already told you. i'm gonna start off really slow, remember? spreading your lips to look at how you're absolutely soaking wet, pretty. placing a few experimental kitten licks around—just barely missing—your clit, your heart beat is in your throat. when he finally licks it though, you moan like you've never moaned before. well really, you never have moaned like that before. you've never had a reason to.

digging into you, he reminds you to talk to me. you gotta talk to me, pretty. you can't form coherent sentences though. you've never felt anything as euphoric or blissful as this and you haven't even cum yet, at lease you don't think you have.

how do i know when i'm gonna cum? he chuckles against your center, squeezing the voluptuous flesh of ur ass before you'll know. i promise. i'm gonna go a little faster now, ok?

but u need an answer, this is all new to you. truthfully something feels like it's missing. feel a bit empty, yeonjun. you don't know what this means, why you feel this way, but it sounds like you want my cock, love. and you assume that's the right answer, because you practically froth at the mouth thinking about his cock inside you. want my cock inside this pretty pussy?

nodding rapidly, you can't help but tug at his joggers, wanting them off as quickly as possible. pushing into as soon as he can, he falls forward, digging into your neck because you're so fucking tight, pretty. such a pretty cunt for me. no one will be able to fill u up like me, huh? it only burns a little at first, but subsides as he keeps fucking you deep, fucking you like prettiest girl you are.

this is all so new to you, but you think you might cum soon, i dunno. gasping, your back arches involuntarily and he rolls his eyes because he just can't believe no one's touched u before and you've never felt any of this before. but he mostly can't believe he hasn't licked your perfectly hardened, plump nipples.

sticking his tongue out before he even reaches you, he licks over one, and you gasp just barely, but not in the way he was hoping. trying the other, you cry out, your legs shaking around his hips because oh, you like that one better, pretty? and he focuses all his energy on fucking you deep, rubbing your clit with his thumb, and licking your favorite nipple.

you can hardly take it any more and he can tell. he can tell ur close. i can feel it. cum for me. cum so fucking good for me, love. just want u to feel so good.

you're nervous again, nervous because you haven't cum yet. should i wait? but he doesn't care—don't worry about me, love. just let go for me, just feel so good for me, that's all i need.

like a command, you let go, legs shaking and trembling, clit pulsating, seeing stars, ears ringing, skin hot and sensitive. you're in a true euphoria and u don't think there's a way you'll ever feel this good again. and frankly, ur pissed you've never felt this way before.

your orgasm triggers his own as he fills you up with his hot cum, feeling it paint ur walls so prettily and warm. you can't get enough.

as you lay next to each other, catching ur breath, you aren't thinking of ur date later that day, all you can think is we're gonna do that again.

#yeonjun #yeonjun smut #txt smut #yeonjun ff #yeonjun x reader #txt x reader #yeonjun x reader smut #txt x reader smut #choi yeonjun #choi yeonjun smut #kpop smut #yeonjun hard thoughts #txt hard thoughts #hp's writing🪲#hp's hard thoughts ☁#yeonjun hard hours #txt hard hours

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venus-haze · 9 months

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Pretty Tied Up (Otis Driftwood x Reader)

Summary: Or, the perils of working at Red Hot Pussy Liquors.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. This takes place between House of 1000 Corpses and The Devil’s Rejects. Based on the Guns N' Roses song. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Armed robbery and implied kidnapping. Sexually explicit content that involves extremely dubious consent and sadism, gags, bondage, groping, and gunplay. Otis is pretty much his own warning. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Having regulars at a liquor store was a double-edged sword. You got to know some customers well enough to like them, but over time you’d notice they looked increasingly worse for wear as they came up to the checkout with their usual purchases. The exception, of course, were the Fireflys, who you always found unsettling, despite Baby’s attempts to seem affable.

“My brother likes you,” she said one day, leaning against the counter as you rang up three bottles of vodka and two six-packs of beer.

“RJ?” you asked, glancing at her brother standing a few feet behind her.

RJ was always nice enough. Didn’t say much. Tall. Burly. Strong. Ruggedly handsome. You’d be open to going out with him.

She laughed in her usual high-pitch that always toed the line of being spine-chilling. “No silly! I’m talkin’ ‘bout Otis.”

You stared at her blankly. “Who’s Otis?”

“You know, long hair, blue eyes, scruffy ol’ beard. He came in here the other night. You must’ve made one hell of an impression. He won’t shut up about ya.”

Oh yeah. Him. Bought a bottle of whiskey and a stack of hardcore BDSM porno magazines. ‘You ever look at this stuff?’ he’d asked, eyeing you as you put a magazine with a nude, distressed-looking woman suspended by intricate ropes on the cover into a brown paper bag. When you first started working there, you could hardly stomach the sight of the rougher fare. As time went on, you found yourself hesitantly intrigued. ‘Gotta have something to do besides go to church on Sundays,’ you replied, earning a wicked grin from him.

“That’s nice,” you said.

She snickered. “My brother’s not nice.”

“Is this everything?” you asked, hoping to move the interaction along.

“Hey RJ, you gettin’ anything else?” Baby asked over her shoulder.

He shook his head, approaching to pick up the crate you put the bottles in.

Baby handed you a wad of cash. She almost always overpaid, letting you keep the change, which was most of the reason you humored her antics in the first place. “Thanks darlin’! See ya real soon!” she said, wiggling her eyebrows, keen to something you were yet to be aware of.

Two nights later you were working the store alone. Your coworker Billy didn’t even have the decency to call and let you know he wasn’t coming in–or quit. He just didn’t show up at 9:30 when he was supposed to, and your phone call to his house was met with a busy dial tone. Asshole.

It’d been a slow night anyway, but you would have appreciated the heads up, or at least another body in the place when the front door was kicked open.

“This is a robbery! Don’t fucking move or I’ll shoot!”

Despite the bandana covering the bottom half of his face, you knew who it was right away. Long, graying hair and piercing blue eyes that were burned into your memory from his last visit to the liquor store.

You lifted your hands in the air. Your manager had told you on your first day that there was always a possibility of this happening. Better to just let them take whatever cash and booze they wanted and report it to the police once they left. ‘Don’t go playin’ hero. We got insurance.’

“Keep those hands up,” Otis said, slowly approaching the counter. “I’m gonna walk back there, and you’re gonna open the register for me.”

You nodded, eyes glued to him as he slithered around the counter like a snake, gun steadily pointed at you.

“Go on,” he said.

With a trembling hand, you opened the register, the cash-filled drawer popping open for him. He pressed the gun to your temple, instructing you to put the cash in one of the brown paper bags by your side. You tried not to glance at him too much while you stuffed the paper bag with the money, finally pushing it toward him and sticking your hands up again.

“Alright, now turn around.”

“Wh-What?”

“I ain’t got all night.”

You glanced at the door. No way you could make a run for it, but maybe someone would walk in and be able to do something.

He followed your gaze and let out a cruel scoff. “Ain’t nobody coming through that door who can save you. I’m the closest thing to salvation you’ll ever get. Now turn the fuck around.”

With a shaky breath, you did as you were told, freezing when you felt the barrel of the gun press against the back of your head. His free hand grabbed your ass through your jeans, his strong grip almost painful as he squeezed each cheek. “Wonder how much it’d take to make you bruise?” he mumbled, almost to himself. He squeezed again, harder this time, as if he were trying to dig his fingers into your flesh. “Too much work when I can just cut into ya.”

“Don’t hurt me,” you pleaded, though hearing your own voice, you weren’t quite sure how convinced you were that you didn’t want him to do his worst. Knowing what you did about the Firefly clan, the rumblings around Ruggsville about the strange family–it would be pretty damn bad.

“C’mon now, mama. You led me to believe you liked it rough,” he said, voice gravelly and low as he slipped his hand between your legs from behind, rubbing the rough denim material and your cotton panties against your pussy, the friction hitting your clit in just the right spot for you to let out a shameful moan. Your hand flew to your mouth, the other clenched in a fist as you tried not to give him the reaction he wanted. Didn’t want to prove him right. Show him how curious you were. You didn’t even have it in you to fight back, not when you were on the edge, so achingly close until suddenly you weren’t anymore.

You nearly whined when he pulled his hand away, horrified at yourself, your reaction to his groping you. He grabbed each of your arms, roughly pulling them behind your back and tying your wrists together with something itchy and uncomfortable that dug painfully into your skin as you fruitlessly tried to free yourself from the secure knot he made. What the fuck did he use? Your eyes widened at the carpet burn-like sensation that’d begun to sting your skin. The roll of twine beneath the register. You used to secure some customers’ more sensitive purchases sometimes.

Fingers and cloth forced their way into your mouth until you were gagged with the bandana Otis had pulled off of his face. He turned you around, looking you over with a slow, satisfactory nod. “I was having trouble getting over this mental block in my art. Started drivin’ me crazy. Y’know, they showed this nature documentary about a group ‘a lions a while back. How they protect and provide for their families, stalk their prey and go in for the kill–do you ever think about how we’re the only species where killing is taboo? For the rest of the animal kingdom, it’s just nature, part of the circle of life. There was a scene where the lion saw a gazelle from way across the savannah, and it was like nothing else existed except for its prey. It couldn’t rest until it tore that damn thing apart. That’s how I felt when I saw you.”

You shook your head frantically, your pleas of mercy muffled by your gag. Fat tears blurred your vision until he morphed into something monstrous, straight out of a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from.

“I ain’t gonna kill ya,” he said, roughly petting your head, “not yet anyway, that’d be a waste when I’ve barely even started.” He gave you a mean grin as he grabbed a hold of your hair by the roots. “I got a lot planned for you. Those magazines gave me a lot of ideas too.”

He lowered the gun, dragging it between your breasts and further down your abdomen until he reached the waistband of your jeans. Using his other hand, he unbuttoned and unzipped them with alarming ease, pulling them down until they fell to your ankles. Your breath hitched as he pressed the barrel of the gun against your cunt, the thin fabric of your panties the only thing stopping him from being able to slide it inside of you.

Still, the cool metal sent a shiver through you as he rubbed it against your clit, black spots creeping into your peripheral as you hyperventilated through his sadistic experiment. He was hard. That much you knew, but what frightened you, perhaps most of all, was how wet you had become since he tied you up. Your skin still screamed against the rough twine that’d been cutting into your flesh, soon to draw blood as you kept struggling.

Your hips jerked, pressing the gun barrel closer to your pussy that was eager to betray you and clench around it if he just pushed past your panties and shoved it up there. You didn’t want him to do that, not in your right mind. But no one in your situation could be considered in their right mind, could they?

“Don’t fight it,” he encouraged gruffly, blue eyes piercing through you as he watched your knees threaten to give out as you neared orgasm. “Give the devil his due, mama.”

Your hands curled into fists, nails threatening to break through the skin of your palm. Then he did it. Slipped the barrel of the gun past your soaked cotton panties. Your brain short-circuited in a rush of terror and thrill at the sensation. You came, eyelids fluttering shut, a guttural moan tearing from your throat and pushing through your gag. Your limbs felt like ghosts, incorporeal parts of you that could only offer a vague sense of feeling compared to the sensation that overwhelmed your body, pleasure and adrenaline coursing through your veins all the same.

Gun be damned, you collapsed against the checkout counter, unable to support yourself any longer. Your chest heaved, unable to catch your breath with the now saliva-soaked bandana still shoved halfway down your throat. An astounded whine escaped your lips when he brought the gun up to his nose and sniffed. “This is it, mama. This is the devil’s salvation.”

He wasn’t making any damn sense, or your brain was too fuzzy to comprehend what he was saying. All you knew about the devil was from the Bible and that stupid Dr. Satan story people regurgitated like spoiled food. If Otis was the devil, you’d believe it, though.

The sound of a car door slamming shut made your eyes widen, and you glanced over your shoulder, your muffled screams of either help or warning to however was approaching.

“Sorry about this, darlin’. We’ll have a lot more fun later,” he said, hitting you across the face with the gun, sending you to the brink of consciousness.

The bell on the door faintly jingled, and the last thing you remember seeing was a large, familiar figure walking towards you.

“C’mon and help me get ‘er in the car,” Otis said just as you passed out. "Don't forget the cash."

#otis driftwood x reader #otis driftwood #house of 1000 corpses #the devil's rejects #3 from hell #slasher x reader #slasher community #slasher fandom #otis driftwood fanfic #otis driftwood imagine #slasher fanfic

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mychemicalrachel · 2 months

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THE LONGEST NIGHT

part one!!!!

Part Two.

The not-prostitute's name was Parrish and he had the prettiest face Ronan had ever seen, coupled with the most obnoxious demeanor. It began as stolen glances from across the cell while Parrish– at least that's what they called him when they brought him in and tossed him in holding– reiterated again and again and again that he, unlike these other hardened criminals, did not belong here. Ronan was pretty sure he was in love, if not with Parrish then at least with his smile. It was a nice smile, almost as nice as his scowl.

“Racing,” Ronan said. “Got caught doing 110 in a 55.”

“That's fast,” Parrish remarked and Ronan was certain he looked at his mouth when he did. Then he sucked his teeth. “Too bad you still lost.”

A startled laugh pushed its way up Ronan's throat. This Parrish guy was an asshole. Ronan looked at his mouth again. Perfectly curved cupid's bow, straight teeth, slightly pointed canines that would leave delicious marks on Ronan's skin. “Who says I lost?”

“You're here,” Parrish said. “Which means you were slow enough to get caught.”

He laughed again and Parrish smiled. Ronan would throw a thousand races just to see that smile again, which was an insane thing to think when they’d just met. They didn’t know one another, and yet Ronan felt like they had been destined to meet. Maybe in another life, they were soulmates, bound together by true love, fated to find each other in every life after.

The Catholic in Ronan winced. It was too fucking late to be considering the possibility of reincarnation and the merits of meeting his soulmate in a jail cell. And yet, the blue of Parrish’s eyes had captivated him, struck him down like a bolt of lightning, and reinvigorated him in a way Ronan didn’t know was possible. Hell, he didn’t even know Parrish’s first name. He wondered what that said about his standards.

“What if we got out of here,” Ronan said, his voice low so Parrish had to lean closer to hear, “and then I show you how fast I can really go.”

“Yeah,” Parrish said. “Yeah. I’ll tell you what, man–”

“Ronan,” he offered, “Lynch.”

“Well, Lynch. If you can get me out of here, I’ll go anywhere you’d like.”

Just the thing Ronan wanted to hear. He slapped his hand down on Parrish’s knee when he stood up. A long time ago, when he’d spent his first night sleeping off a hangover in a cell, he expected the bars to be cold. Now Ronan knew that the metal sucked up all the heat in the room, the heavy snores from the guard and the sighs of the prisoners, holding it captive, so hot it could almost burn. Grabbing onto the bars, Ronan shook them until they ratted.

“Yo, Chuck!” he yelled. “Chucky, my man! Lemme out of this shithole!”

Across the room, the chair under Deputy Dumbass creaked. He groaned when he stood up. “Chrissake, Lynch,” he said. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Let me out now and I promise I’ll never call you Chucky again.”

“Oh, you promise, do you?” Chucky raised a dubious eyebrow. He was willing to play along, even if he knew it was a promise Ronan could never keep.

“Scout’s honor.”

“You weren’t no goddamn boy scout. Back up.”

Ronan backed up. The cell wasn’t very big. Henrietta didn’t need a huge department when most of the local crime was confined to speeding and bar fights. The guys in here were regulars– Ronan saw them more than he saw his own family. They weren’t talkers and they didn’t ask questions, so Ronan enjoyed their company– until he didn’t.

Chucky unlocked the door and swung it open, letting Ronan step out.

“Go,” he gestured with the ring of keys. “Get, before I change my mind.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Ronan stopped. “But I want to take him with me.”

Looking back in the direction Ronan’s slender finger pointed, Chucky frowned. “Can’t do that,” he said. “Gotta see a judge first. Picked that one up on a count of solicitation–”

Huh. So Parrish had been telling the truth about that.

“Come on, Chuck,” Ronan said. He looked again at Parrish, the innocence in his wide eyes, the dirty khaki pants. He looked like he should’ve been in a pamphlet for community college, not sitting awkwardly between two dudes who looked like they’d escaped a ZZ Top cover band. “Look at him and tell me he’s a motherfucking hooker.”

“Can’t judge a book by its cover,” Chuck said.

“Chucky. He’s wearing a sweater vest. You ever seen a prostitute in a sweater vest?”

Chucky considered it. It was possible, of course, if he had been soliciting a very niche group of individuals. Eventually, he sighed. “If I let him go, will you get out of my office faster?”

“You won’t even see me leave.”

He groaned some more, but gestured for Parrish to get up. He pointed a finger at Ronan, threatening, “Do not make me regret this, Lynch. Keep your nose clean. And keep his clean while you're at it.”

But Ronan had already grabbed Parrish by the wrist, dragging him toward the door, gone before Chuck could change his mind.

Parrish, to Ronan’s surprise, followed quietly until they got to the parking lot. By the time they reached the BMW, parked illegally in a handicap space, Parrish had slowed, then stopped, seemingly trying to gather his wits.

“Uh,” he said eloquently, “what the hell just happened?”

Ronan raised his arms, motioning to the car and the mostly vacant lot around them. “I just got you out.”

“Yeah. How? Did you bribe a cop?”

Bribery didn’t work on cops around here. Too many obnoxious rich kids more than willing to pay off the local fuzz. Unfortunately, money did not buy everything, but it did help.

“My brother bailed me out hours ago. So about that ride…”

“Hmm, no,” Parrish waved his hand, like he was attempting to erase Ronan. “Go back. What do you mean your brother already bailed you out? You were free to go anytime you wanted and you just… didn't?”

“Sleeping in a cell beat the alternative,” Ronan unlocked the car with the keys he swiped off Chuck's desk. “Going home meant I had to listen to my brother bitch.”

“What kind of psychopath would rather take a nap in a jail cell rather than just talk to their own brother?”

“It's not about being a psychopath,” he explained. “It's the fact that I got caught, remember? And my brother is the asshole who was faster than me. Anyways,” Ronan climbed into the BMW, starting the engine. Through the open passenger window, he looked at Parrish. Even in the dark, with an incredulous look painted on his pretty features, he was a sight to behold. “Night's not getting any younger, Parrish. You coming or not?”

He didn't know what the plan was if Parrish said no. He'd hitchhike back to his car, allegedly broke down in the middle of nowhere, and Ronan would kill time driving in circles before making his way back home.

In the end, he didn't have to find out.

“My mother taught me it wasn't safe to get into cars with strangers,” Parrish said, though his lips turned up, curled with blatant, unmistakable flirtation. He was enjoying this game just as much as Ronan. “How do I know you're not a serial killer?”

He could turn it around and ask the same question, but he knew that he would probably go anyway even if Parrish did turn out to be a serial killer. Ronan’s answering grin was razor sharp, dangerous and delicious and charming. “I guess you'll just have to trust me.”

Parrish pretended to think about it a second more before opening the door and climbing in.

#pynch #ronan lynch #adam parrish #choose your own adventure #help me write a one shot

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roxxie-wolf · 4 months

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𝒩𝑒𝓌 𝒪𝓇𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓈 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒

Pairing: Human!Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your parents want you to marry someone of their choice, but you already have eyes on someone else. Will you follow what your parents think is best for you or will you go with what your heart desires.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: human!alastor x fem!reader, slow burn, this story may contain mature sexual content. Your in your late 20's, Alastor is in his early 30's, you still live with your parents idk. If I forgot anything else please let me know.

Note: Sorry for not posting last week. I have been very busy lately but I’ll try my best to keep up. Next Chapter and Previous Chapter will now be at the bottom of each chapter. Hope y’all enjoy this one^^

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝟫

The early morning light filtered through your curtains, casting a soft glow across the room as you stood there, emotions swirled within you like leaves caught in a gentle breeze. A week had passed since your last encounter with Alastor. The absence of his presence was a silent echo in your heart. *He knew where you lived; why hadn’t he come by?* The memory of his smile, the warmth of his touch—it all felt like a fragile dream now. But today was different. Today, you were preparing to visit Cindy’s house, a task that brought a familiar sense of frustration.

Meeting yet another suitor, James, was not something you looked forward to. The very thought of it made you feel like you were being paraded in a market, your feelings and desires secondary to the transaction at hand. You couldn't help but wonder if your mother only saw you as a piece to be moved in the grand chessboard of societal expectations.

As she adjusted the fabric of your dress, her hands were gentle, but her presence was a reminder of the expectations placed upon you. Your reflection in the mirror showed a figure of elegance and grace, yet your mind was miles away, lost in the memory of Alastor's kiss.

"Alright, you look beautiful, sweetheart," your mother's voice brought you back to the present, her tone filled with pride and affection.

"Thanks, mom," managing a smile as you met your own gaze in the mirror. You took in the sight of yourself, dressed up for someone else, while your heart ached for Alastor. The longing was a silent whisper, a contrast to the outward image of readiness.

Today, you would meet James, but your soul was already entwined with another. As you followed your mother downstairs, each step felt like a small betrayal to the love that had begun to bloom within you. Yet, you knew that no matter the outcome of today's meeting, Alastor had already claimed a piece of your heart that no one else could touch.

"First, we need to head to town; I gotta stop by Samantha's shop," your mother's words floated through the air, a prelude to the day's errands. You nodded in response, a gesture that belied the flutter of excitement at the thought of possibly encountering Alastor.

With each step towards the heart of town, the anticipation grew. The familiar streets held a new promise, and the mundane journey transformed into a path of potential encounters.

As you entered Samantha's shop, the bell above the door chimed, announcing your arrival. The scent of fresh flowers and the subtle fragrance of incense filled the air, a sensory embrace that was both welcoming and calming.

"Hello and welcome!" Samantha's voice, bright and cheerful, cut through the quiet hum of the shop. She emerged from behind a display of colorful trinkets, her arms open wide as she enveloped your mother in a warm hug.

Then, turning towards you, her smile was a beam of sunlight on a cloudy day. "It's so good to see you," her greeting carrying the weight of genuine affection.

You returned the smile, feeling a sense of belonging in this small corner of the world. Yet, beneath the pleasantries, your heart raced with the hope that today might just be the day you'd see Alastor again, even if just for a fleeting moment.

The murmur of conversation between your mother and Samantha became a distant hum as you stepped outside, the door closing softly behind you. The outside world greeted you with a gentle breeze and the soft bustle of the town's daily life. Your eyes scanned the surroundings, a silent wish in your heart to catch a glimpse of Alastor.

And then, as if summoned by your silent pleas, you spotted him. Alastor was there, just across the street, engaged in conversation with a woman whose laughter seemed to echo in your chest. A pang of jealousy struck you, sharp and unexpected. *Who is she?* The question gnawed at you, but the answer was clear: you were nothing to him, and yet, he was everything to you.

You couldn't help but watch Alastor from afar, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. The woman with him was laughing too, touching his arm in a familiar way that made your heart sink.

Time seemed to stretch and warp as you watched them, the laughter and conversation a silent movie to which you knew all the words yet couldn't bear to hear. Jealousy, a green-eyed monster, whispered in your ear, urging you to cross the street, to confront, to claim what you felt was yours.

But then, a voice, clear and concerned, cut through the fog of your emotions. "Y/N, where are you going?" It was your mother, her intuition like a lighthouse guiding you back from the rocky shores of rash decisions.

You cast a final glance at Alastor, now disappearing into the crowd with the woman, and a heavy sigh escaped your lips. Your heart, once buoyant with the memory of a kiss, now felt like an anchor dragging you down. The questions raced through your mind, a carousel of doubts: *Did the kiss mean nothing to him? Was it all just a game?*

As you turned to face your mother, the mask of composure settled upon your features. The day ahead with James awaited, a script written by expectation and duty. Yet, within the chambers of your heart, a single hope flickered, refusing to be extinguished—that perhaps, just perhaps, there was more to Alastor's story than what your eyes had seen.

——————————————

The knock on Cindy's door echoed the pounding of your heart, each beat a reminder of the turmoil within. You stood there, your gaze fixed on the ground, as if it held the answers to the questions swirling in your mind about Alastor and the mysterious woman.

The feelings of betrayal, the anger at the possibility of being played—it all churned inside you like a storm. Yet, doubt lingered, a voice whispering that perhaps there was more to the story than you knew.

"Coming," a voice called from within, the sound of approaching footsteps breaking through your reverie. The door swung open, revealing Cindy, her blonde hair and blue eyes a stark contrast to the chaos of your emotions.

"Hello, Cindy," your mother greeted her with an excitement that felt foreign to you at that moment. "I'm here with my daughter, Y/N."

As you lifted your eyes to meet Cindy's, you forced a smile, the mask of politeness firmly in place. But behind that smile, your thoughts were still with Alastor, wondering about the truth of his affections and the identity of the woman.

Cindy invited you inside calling James in the process. The sight of James, emerging with a tentative smile, was a reminder of the day's purpose. His shy demeanor was endearing, yet it paled in comparison to the vivid memory of Alastor's confident gaze.

The meeting unfolded like a well-rehearsed play, each line delivered with polite interest, each smile a courteous gesture. But beneath the surface, your heart remained untouched, unswayed by James's gentle charm. He was kind, yes, but he was not Alastor.

With the meeting behind you, the image of James lingered in your mind—not because of a burgeoning affection, but because of his stark contrast to Alastor. The encounter had been pleasant, yet it lacked the spark that Alastor had ignited within you.

The journey home was quiet, a reflective space where thoughts swirled like leaves in the wind. The decision to return to town was not made lightly; it was driven by a need for closure, for answers, for something that would either soothe the ache in your heart or confirm your worst fears.

The decision was made before you fully realized it; you needed to see Alastor, to seek the truth that would either calm the storm within you or unleash it.

"Mom, I gotta go to town. I need to visit Samantha; I got something to ask her," your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside.

Your mother's smile was one of encouragement, her thoughts on a different track, believing you sought advice from Samantha about Anthony. "Sure sweetheart, go right ahead," her words a gentle push towards what she perceived as a budding romance.

"Be careful, sweetie," her voice followed you as you walked away, a reminder of the safety net that was always there, no matter where your heart led you.

With a wave and a deep breath, you set off, the image of Alastor and the unknown woman replaying in your mind. The need for answers propelled you forward, a mix of dread and determination fueling your steps. Today, you would confront the man who had stirred such profound feelings within you, seeking clarity amidst the confusion of a kiss that felt like both a beginning and an end.

———————————

The town, once a tapestry of familiar faces and places, had transformed into a labyrinth in your quest to find Alastor. Each glance, each turn of your head was fueled by the hope of spotting him, the man who had unwittingly become the compass of your heart.

Standing in front of Samantha's shop, you paused, scanning the crowd for any sign of him. The sight of Samantha inside the shop was a reminder of the pretense you had given your mother, but the urgency of your mission left no room for distractions.

As the day bled into evening, the golden hues of sunset casting long shadows on the cobblestones, a creeping sense of despair began to take hold. The possibility of not finding Alastor loomed over you, a cloud threatening to burst.

But then, a voice that called out to you was unmistakable, a sound you'd come to associate with a myriad of emotions. "Hello darling, looking for something?" Alastor's voice was as smooth and gentle as you remembered, a stark contrast to the frantic beating of your heart.

You turned to face him, and there he was, the man who had been the cause of both elation and distress. His smile was disarming, and as he lowered himself to your level, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. His hands were casually placed behind his back, and his glasses slid just slightly down the bridge of his nose, giving him an air of casual elegance.

For a moment, you were speechless, caught in the whirlwind of emotions his presence evoked. The questions, the doubts, the jealousy—all of it was pushed aside by the sheer force of his charm. You were reminded once again of just how handsome he was, and how easily he could stir your soul.

"Everything alright, dear?" His voice brought you back to the present, to the reality of the situation.

"Yes, I... I was looking for you," you managed to say.

“For me?” a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Yes for you”you affirmed, the words barely a whisper but laden with meaning.

He stepped back fixing his glasses, his eyes never leaving yours, and in them, you found yourself lost, unable to voice the doubts and fears that had led you here. "Well here I am, what is it that you need, ma cherie?" Alastor's voice was gentle, his French endearment a soft touch amidst the tension.

"I just wanted to see you, I haven't seen you in days," choosing to keep the storm of your emotions at bay. His response was casual, as if the charged moment shared between you had been nothing but a fleeting instance. "Yes indeed, how are things?" he inquired, his demeanor nonchalant.

The frustration within you grew, a silent scream against his apparent indifference. "Everything's fine," the facade of composure intact. Yet, beneath that surface, a whirlwind of confusion and hurt raged, leaving you to wonder if the connection you felt was merely a figment of your desires. Alastor stood there, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil he'd caused.

“Would you like to come with me, dear”

The invitation hung in the air, Alastor's calm and gentle voice offering a reprieve from the storm of emotions within you. Despite the tension that clenched your fists, you found yourself unable to resist. His presence was magnetic, pulling you in with an invisible force that your heart couldn't deny.

He extended his arm, a silent gesture of companionship, and with a nod that carried the weight of your unspoken feelings, you accepted. Your arms wrapped around his, a physical manifestation of the connection that seemed to defy explanation.

"Where are we going?" The question was a whisper of curiosity, a desire to know more than just the destination.

"A jazz club, I promise you will enjoy it, darling," he assured you, his smile a constant, comforting presence.

The jazz club greeted you with an embrace of shadows and melodies. The dim lighting set the stage for an evening of intimacy. Alastor led you to a secluded table, a private world within the public domain, where the ambiance wrapped around you like a velvet cloak.

Your heart danced to the beat of the music. The jazz club, with its cocoon of melodies and whispers, became a haven where the outside world faded away, leaving only the two of you, and the music.

The waiter's question was a brief interruption to the enchanting atmosphere of the jazz club. "Would you like something to drink?" his voice almost blending into the background music.

Alastor's choice of whiskey was made with an air of certainty, a testament to his assured nature. You, seeking to add your own touch to the evening, opted for a martini.

When the waiter returned, the clink of the glasses as he set them down was a prelude to a new experience. The martini, with its clear elegance, stood as a symbol of the night's sophistication. You lifted the glass, the cool surface against your fingers a contrast to the warmth of the club.

With a sip, the crispness of the martini washed over you, a perfect blend of strength and subtlety. It was a dance of flavors on your tongue, a companion to the night's unfolding narrative. And there, in the secluded corner of the jazz club, with Alastor by your side, the evening continued to weave its magic around you.

The evening had unfolded like a melody, each moment with Alastor a note that resonated within you. The dance, the conversation, the shared laughter—all of it had woven a tapestry of connection that was hard to step away from. But as the night drew to a close, reality beckoned.

"I have to go now, Alastor," you whispered, leaning in close enough to be enveloped by the scent of his cologne. It was a fragrance that spoke of warmth and mystery, a fitting accompaniment to the man himself.

Alastor's concern was evident as he offered to walk you home. "Would you like me to walk you home? It's pretty late; I wouldn't want anything happening to you." His words were a gentle reminder of the care that had begun to blossom between you.

After a brief hesitation, where the desire to stay clashed with the need to leave, you accepted his offer. "Yes, that would be greatly appreciated." His arm extended towards you, a bridge over the threshold of the evening's end.

As you wrapped your arms in his, the simple act felt significant. Together, you stepped out of the jazz club, leaving behind the cocoon of music and dim lights, stepping into the cool embrace of the night.

“You know, you’re a great dancer,” your voice barely above a whisper. The words slipped out, fueled by the heady mix of martini and Alastor’s intoxicating presence.

He chuckled, the sound like velvet. “Thank you darling, you’re not bad yourself”

The walk home with Alastor was a continuation of the evening's enchantment, each step accompanied by laughter and the easy flow of conversation. But as the familiar silhouette of your house appeared, a sense of reality set in. You chose to part ways with Alastor, not wanting to risk the chance of your parents seeing him.

"I'll go alone from here, thank you again, Alastor, it was fun," offering him a smile that carried the warmth of the night's memories. His response was gracious, a reflection of the care he had shown throughout the evening. "It was my pleasure, darling. Now I'll wait here until you enter your home safely."

With a final smile and a fleeting kiss you turned towards your home. Alastor's figure remained, a silent guardian watching over your safe return. Once inside, you made your way to the window, the gesture of waving back to him a silent conversation across the distance. He acknowledged your signal, a nod and a wave that sealed the night's experience.

As he disappeared into the embrace of the night, you were left with a heart full of questions and a hope that the story between you and Alastor was far from over.

🌸𝒫𝓇𝑒𝓋𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈🌸 🌸𝒩𝑒𝓍𝓉🌸

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list so you be updated every time. I do try to proofread but if I missed something please let me know.

Also I sometimes tend to make minor changes to the chapters.

Thank you! For reading I hope you enjoyed it.💖

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#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor smut #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor

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waywardxwords · 11 months

Text

The Fix - Part 1

Summary: Everyone has a past, but yours seemed to haunt you. You've tried to move forward with a normal life, but the day comes when that's not possible anymore. When Sheriff Beau Arlen enters your life, you're certain he is going to judge you just like everyone else in town does. But something about Beau is different.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Female Reader (Reader has a daughter in this story; also--slow-ish burn)

Warnings: Brief mention of child abduction, very brief mention of domestic violence (non-descriptive), slow burn

Word Count: ~1.5k (This is meant to be a little shorter, but it will pick up as we get into the story!)

The sun had started to settle just behind the Montana mountains as you took a sip from the steaming cup of tea in your hands. The warmth from the cup sent a pleasant shudder over you as you took a moment to enjoy the peace and quiet. The sound of tires upon your gravel drive interrupted the silence and made you inwardly groan. You recognized the truck almost instantly.

You stayed planted on your rocking chair, but offered a small smile as he opened the car door.

“Sheriff,” you greeted blandly. While you would never admit it out loud, your heart couldn’t help but flutter when you were graced with Sheriff Beau Arlen’s presence. The man looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ, for God’s sake. But you knew better than that.

“How’s it goin’, ma’am?” And then there was that sweet, sexy Texas drawl. God, you loved Texan men. But you’d do everything in your power to not let him know that.

“Well, it was going well, ‘til I heard that truck pull up,” your lips were tightened in a straight line and eyebrows raised in his direction.

He chuckled softly as he put his hands in his front denim pockets. “I hear ya,” he sighed. After a moment, he continued. “Where’s he at, darlin’?” He somehow managed a sympathetic look, but you couldn’t help but feel like it was covered in pity. He felt bad for you—hell, this whole town did. You heard the rumblings while you were out; you knew everyone and their mama knew your story, and you hated it.

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t keep a tracking device on my ex-husband,” you sighed. “I haven’t seen him since we all went to court three months ago. That’s a promise, Sheriff.”

He nodded as he glanced around your property. You weren’t sure if he was looking for something suspicious to accuse you of not being honest, or if he was looking to make sure you were safe.

“I believe you,” he reassured. “I know I don’t have to tell you, but he’s dangerous. He’s gone off the deep end now that the FBI is lookin’ for him, too.” His green gaze was back on you again.

“Like you said, you don’t have to tell me,” your stomach churned as you processed his words. You knew now that your ex-husband was on the run, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to cover his own ass. “I was married to him, remember?”

“I know,” he tried to appease. “You still have my number?”

“On speed dial,” you nodded as you used your feet to rock on the chair.

“If you see him, you use it. Got it?” His eyes bore into you in a way that made your heart flutter again. You tried to swallow the feeling away.

“Yes, sir,” you nodded once more.

“Good,” he said, his boots crunched against the gravel again as he headed back to his truck. As he opened the door, he looked back at you with a smile. “And how many times I gotta tell you, darlin’? Beau’s just fine. You have a good night, now.” He tipped his hat at you.

You hoped between the glow of the setting sun and the distance between you, he couldn’t see the rosy blush that crept up your neck into your cheeks.

“Night, Beau,” you called back. You didn’t miss the way his smile grew as he climbed into the truck.

Mondays were the worst. The weekends just never seemed long enough. And now that the temperatures were cooling off for autumn, it made it a hundred times harder to get yourself out of bed. This morning felt more like the start of winter—a bitter 39 degrees outside. But you had gotten up because you had to, and practically had to drag your 5-year-old daughter out from the comfort of her bed as well.

The day had crawled by. Working in real estate was something you loved, as it allowed you way more flexibility and the opportunity to be a mom and still provide for your small family of two. But with winter approaching rapidly, things had slowed down at work. Everyone was settled and planning to wait out the brutal Montana winter, so your days felt even longer.

You watched the children find their parents’ cars in the car line and tapped your manicured finger against the steering wheel of your 1996 Ford Bronco.

There was an uncertainty that crept over you as you watched for your daughter—the lavender colored puffy coat you had put her in that morning, the jeans with a daisy patch she had begged you to sew on. But she wasn’t there. Fewer and fewer students exited the building until the trickle stopped.

You moved your truck into a parking spot and shifted the gear into park. The feeling of your heart pounding in your chest made you want to vomit, but you pushed it aside. Between the cold air and the tears that had already settled, your eyes burned as your feet carried you to the sidewalk where you spotted her teacher.

“Ms. Lang,” you called out to her as your steps quickly approached. She turned to you with a wide smile across her face.

“Oh, hi! How are you?” She smiled. “Bailey’s mom, right?”

“Yes,” you nodded with a breath. “Where is she?” The words sounded frantic, but you couldn’t help it. Your mind had traveled to the worst possible scenario, even though you hoped reality was that she had just gotten caught up with something in the classroom, or maybe had needed a bathroom break.

Ms. Lang’s smile fell and her eyes widened slightly. “Her Uncle picked her up from school early, he said she had a dentist appointment.”

With her words, you felt your heart begin to sink–down your chest, through your ribcage until it crumbled in the pit of your stomach. “H-her Uncle?” As you stuttered, you realized your mouth had run dry.

“Yes,” Ms. Lang waved you on to follow her as she walked towards the reception area of the elementary school. The both of you moved quickly around the remaining students waiting for their parents to pick them up. “Her Uncle Shawn. He was on the approved sign-out list.” She pulled open the glass door to the secretary’s office and waved you on ahead of her, but you were frozen in place. It felt like the oxygen had been sucked out of your lungs. Ms. Lang looked at you, unsure why you weren’t moving.

“My brother, Shawn, has been in Pennsylvania for the last two weeks...he's not in town,” you barely whispered.

Ms. Lang looked to the secretary as fear bubbled into her voice. “Call 911.”

There were multiple police officers in the lobby now. All of them had the same questions: what was your daughter wearing, her age, was there anyone that may want to harm her. You knew your ex-husband was considered dangerous, and you knew that better than anyone. But you never thought he would hurt your daughter. He wasn’t able to see her anymore, ever since he had become a fugitive. Prior to his conviction, he still could only have supervised visitation, which he hated. But harm her? Even though he had harmed you, you would never believe he would hurt her. But then your therapist had gently reminded you that you were broken and bruised, and he was unhinged. You didn’t know what to think anymore.

“Ma’am?” A young female officer approached you gently. “Your husband—“

“Ex-husband,” you cut her off quickly.

“I’m sorry,” she paused and corrected herself. “Your ex-husband fits the description of the man who picked up your daughter. The school followed protocol—he had a fake license that had your brother’s name on it.” You had figured as much.

“Jackson’s a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them,” you muttered as your eyes blurred for what felt like the hundredth time today. You picked at a loose string on the edge of your denim jacket. It wasn’t nearly warm enough, but you hadn’t planned to be outside for long.

“Because he’s a fugitive and wanted by the FBI, we’ve been asked to pass them the case,” she spoke gently. You should've known as much, but your head jerked up to look at her. She gave you a sympathetic smile—one you had seen from almost every damn local these last few months—and put a hand on your shoulder. “I promise they’ll do everything they can. The whole state will be on alert looking for your daughter.”

Her words didn’t bring you much comfort. You had gotten to a point in your life where you didn’t trust many people. The FBI hadn’t been able to find your ex-husband all this time, so how could you possibly have hope they would find him now?

As the officer walked away and people began to disperse, you grabbed your cell phone. You didn’t know what else to do, so you pressed the contact you had never dialed before.

It rang twice before you heard his southern drawl. “Sheriff Beau Arlen,” he answered gruffly.

“Sheriff?” You meant to sound strong, but the emotion had made its way to your voice. “Jackson took her…he took Bailey.”

Alright, so, I haven't written anything outside of the Supernatural fandom in a very long time (we're talking like, 10+ years). But I've had this idea poking my brain for the last two-ish weeks or so, and finally decided to write it out. I would be forever grateful if you let me know if you loved it or hated it. I'm new to Beau Arlen, so not sure if I am capturing his ~essence~. Thanks for taking the time to read!

New installments will be posted on Wednesdays and Saturdays!

A preview of the next chapter:

Beau had met you at the entryway of the elementary school within minutes, concern etched across his face in the way of worry lines that likely matched yours.

“You alright, darlin’?” He asked gently as he approached with a tentative hand on your shoulder blade.

Under the weight of his hand, you felt the ultimate collapse. Everything tumbled out of you in a way you didn’t expect (nor did he, by the look on his face). But either way, he used that hand to pull you flush against his chest and wrapped his other arm around your waist. He held you as you sobbed into the lapel of his brown jacket. The material was cool from the bitter wind just outside the door.

“It’s gonna be alright,” he coaxed softly with his mouth close to your ear. “We’re gonna get her back.” You tried to nod and speak, but only shaky breaths came out. Beau pulled you to his side and stepped forward towards one of the agents. “Beau Arlen, Sheriff,” he put his hand out to greet the agent.

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bts5sosempire · 2 years

Text

the tyrant (iii)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sukuna ryomen x reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2,859

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: arrange marriage, mention of infertility, polygamous marriage, slow-burn yandere, usage of drug usage (nothing harmful), power imbalance, Sussykuna

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: "you were the apple of Sukuna's eyes, the one who brought him solace and everything. The only thing you were incapable of was giving him a child, an heir he wished to spoil like he did to you."

𝐚/𝐧: I have come back with a bearing gift. I intentionally had made this chapter shorter for a purpose reason. Gonna add more drama in the next too, gotta add a lot of spices to reader's life. Please comment down below in the "comments" for tagging, it would be easier amd help me to see who wants to be tagged since if I'm asked in dms or inbox, I might forget.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Sukuna wasn't a man who was easily disturbed, but his temper was somewhat one thing that could be tampered with if you knew how to strike it right. Like a hot iron, you cross it every time, but he wondered how long you would keep up your farce before the metal of his patience broke in half. Sukuna knows your dissatisfaction with him, but your life lies with him no matter what. His affection and favoritism keep you alive in his harem; without them, you would be a piece of meat for the awaiting dogs to rip apart.

The man trusts you no matter what you do, despite having eyes and ears everywhere. But the ongoing whispers he heard in brief passing about you taking a second lover or having a secret infidelity with Yuichi from the concubines stir a little sore spot. Although he knew rumors are rumors with no backing on concrete evidence, it was bound to be a fraudulent use. Unless they dare to tamper by advocating a lie to slander your name and shame the ground you walk on, he might raise a hand to hush those loose lips. Sukuna may have power above all else, but controlling the central harem wasn't his job since the mother figurehead he had married was supposed to manage while he dealt with politics. Two different businesses shouldn't be mixed until he needs to get involved.

“Lord Sukuna,” Uraume appears in the room and shuts the door quietly behind them. “Everything is done per your instructions.” Sukuna lets out a hum of approval and carelessly tosses a thick packet of papers onto the table as it makes a slap. Sukuna almost forgot about the bandits that had hurt you and attempted to rob his people; he made good use of making an example out of them. Upon his will, he had ordered them to be lacerated in minor cuts every five minutes to allow them to bleed to death slowly before using their corpses as scarecrows while impaled by pikestaffs and placing them under the sweltering summer sun. Within hours the corpses will start to rot and smell. Sukuna purposely set them out his city gates, along the pathway, to warn any potential fool(s) who comes under the guise of a humble person will have the same fate as them. For the leader, Sukuna didn't outright kill him; it would be merciful; he had become nothing but a drug and poison tester. It didn't take long for his mind to be wiped away with a few different doses of drugs and poisons, and Sukuna had instructed him to be alive as possible. If the man were to die, let him enjoy thinking about having his life taken away until it is almost snuffed out, only to be brought back again as he goes through the ordeal again.

Sukuna: “Anything else to report?”

Uraume: “Besides the prisoners, I've sent out formal invitations in advance to other Lords and all the ladies' families for the Fall Festival. Should I inform Lady Eisha to prepare materials in advance too?”

“Sure.” Sukuna then dismisses his subordinate with a single wave of his hand, “Bring me the doctor before you go; I have a lot of things to discuss with him.”

Eisha was sitting in the courtyard, surrounded by a few concubines. While chatting amongst themselves and giggling with one another, all were enjoying snacks and drinks from wonders of the world. Sometimes moments like this were fleeting for her as a figurehead.

“I fear that this child might be keeping me up all night,” Lady Kiko said, caressing the bump protruding through her expensive silk kimono just below the obi. Eisha eyes the concubine growing belly with subtle green envy that contains the life she wished she had, only being blessed with a daughter; she hopes for a boy desperately to maintain her symbol and the power in the harem. Even if she were to be absolute, it's uncertain; as a woman, her livelihood always depends on the children she brought into the world. Eisha's title could always be stripped away unceremoniously.

“Do take care of yourself and the child's health; any blessing from Lord Sukuna is a blessing to us all,” Eisha spoke as a true sage while gracing Lady Kiko with an unharmed smile that she would use for others. Eisha can not let them doubt her in the harem; as long as she converts people to her cause and side, she shouldn't be worried about using her family image all the time as a backer. Using other people for her dirty work was always a tactic taught or learned through years of hardship.

“But speaking of Lord Sukuna,” one of the concubines gave a side disdain look to another who returned the sentiment, “he hasn't been visiting us lately. More or less, he has been with her, and we rarely got time to spend with him anymore.” There was an agreement of murmur around the table. Eisha observed the mood and saw all the concubines were low-spirited about you being favored, as always. You were constantly the center of gossip regarding the harem matter. It was nothing new, but the growing jealousy increased as time passed, no matter how much they tried to dissuade or separate you from Sukuna; that just made the man hold onto you tighter than ever.

It was tiring to see Eisha admit, but she was patient.

Eisha: “Enough about this matter regarding her. Lord Sukuna will come to us when it's time again.”

Lady Natsuki: “You're right; we won't discuss this anymore. But I'm excited for you, Your Lady, since the Fall Festival is coming around again; you had impeccable taste and set for decorations and hosting.”

There was a chorus of agreement and singing praises.

“Enough with the sweet words; everyone is excused.” Eisha presents a fake bashful smile at the concubine, who is trying to flatter her. With a wave of her hand, all the concubines stood up and did a courtesy bow. Eisha stands up but feels faint when she sees doubles of each harem woman's back. She doubles over at the table, knocking down a porcelain cup that shatters against the ground. “Your Lady!” Eisha's lady-in-waiting came to her side immediately. The women currently leaving turned around and found Eisha on the floor in a daze and unfocused as they all rushed back to her side. There was a bead of sweat rolling down the side of Eisha's temple as she felt her body going numb and growing colder. A slight pain attacks her abdomen.

“Someone, go get the physician now!” Lady Enya roared out at the nearby servants, who scampered immediately to find help.

“B-Blood! Her Lady nose is bleeding!” Lady Natsuki shouts in panic as she ushers her handkerchief under Eisha's nostril.

A while later...

Eisha sat in her chamber as the doctor took her pulse. They gave her acupuncture to return her body to its normal state, but it wasn't easy. “I did what I could, Your Grace,” there was a slight hesitation and a strange look from the physician as they weren't sure if it was right to look at her in the eyes.

Eisha: “Go on.”

The physician took his hand back, “It seems that you have rushed yourself in haste and destroyed your foundation. Your body couldn't keep up with all the tonics and remedies you've been taking, thus forcing your body to produce too much blood to go in the same area.” There was a slight pause. “I fear this might render you nearly infertile.”

Like cold water poured over Eisha, she felt her heart drop, and her body experienced nervous hot and cold flashes. She felt like the world had crashed around her orbit and was going against her. The future child she had always wished she had was flying so far away from Eisha; the road to her dream suddenly became narrow, longer, and darker. But she didn't want to give it up.

Eisha: “Is there anything you can do?”

The doctor was once again silent, carefully threading his words. “I can, but you must stop taking what you have been ingesting. Not only are you experiencing low body heat, but the slightest chill could also render you ill and potentially decline your health. So avoiding anything cold is best; keep anything warm close by.”

Eisha: “You also said I'm not nearly fertile, too; what do you mean by that?”

“Your Lady, I mean that if you were to try to get pregnant this instant, it would be slim and deadly. Your body isn't suited for childbearing due to low heat and blood levels. Not to mention you told me about searing flashes and sharp pain in your abdomen; it might be possible that there are scars in your womb which would make implantation impossible, but on another note, even if you were able to get pregnant and conceive a child, the possibility of carrying them to full-term is also low since your body will fight against it and the chances along with miscarriage to you hemorrhaging and bleeding out is high too.” The physician's words were nothing but advice to Eisha, who felt herself turning deaf.

You were roaming the halls after a short visitation from your outing. Up ahead, you notice the turf of pink hair and quickly halt your steps. Making a turn to another hallway to delay your road longer, but it was futile as Sukuna saw the waves of your simple but colorful kimono and followed suit.

“You're so eager to get away from me.” Sukuna sneered, but there was an underlying affection hidden in his words, as always. “Are you done with your little game? I would like for that poor doctor to reevaluate you again.”

You were slightly annoyed at his persistence in chasing you every time you appeared in his view. “It's always the same result; when will you stop?” Sniding back at Sukuna, he intercepts himself between you and Yumi with a few long strides. He took you by the arm and opened one empty room, and shoved you inside while closing the door with a snap right behind him. Yumi calls for you outside, but not loud enough to alert other people.

You: “What are you-”

Sukuna inches close to you, only a mere inch apart. “I've been patient,” Sukuna's eyes glower. His voice was above a whisper; you tried to keep your posture straight and face calm. It was rare for his reaction to change; you know he won't harm you...but what are the chances when you keep pushing him away? You can't falter no matter what; you weren't taught to cower away, but the hammering of your heart keeps resounding in your ears like drums.

“I never told you to do anything for me,” scowling at Sukuna, whose face hardens at your words. It's always like this; you deny him any chances of gaining affection from you, and he who tried to be patient still cuts every road short in hopes of reaching your heart faster. “When will you understand that we are just husband and wife in name and title, not a married couple?”

If Sukuna could clench his jaws and grind his teeth harder, they would've shattered upon compression. “We are husband and wife.” Sukuna started. You can't help but think no matter how much you tried to change his cognitive function of you, it just backfired by his stubbornness. “If the world knows how much I worship you, they wouldn't think we are just a name and title; we would be considered revere in the eyes of the public.”

There we go. That's it.

“You see, everything you do isn't for me; it's for you,” without shame, you start to nitpick everything that seems wrong with this whole ordeal since you married this pink hair fool. Holding back your tongue was already hard enough, but lashing it out was more accessible, it seemed. “Everything here feels like a transaction; therefore, in conclusion, we do not love each other.”

Your words seem to be taking effect on Sukuna as there was a glow of danger looming and his pupils growing into slits. “Do not say that I don't love you. What man will go back and forth for you? I've given you everything, and it never makes you happy. Or is there someone before me that you still love all these years, and that's why you keep rejecting me?”

A thin line appears on your lips. A few moments pass in silence, and Sukuna slowly inhales a breath thickly, feeling his body beginning to shudder in anger when the thought of you loving someone else that isn't him pinched the back of his mind painfully. Then he slowly exhales a breath.

Something seems to snap in his mind, but he replies quickly as the anger washes away slowly, although not completely. “I see.” Straightening his back, Sukuna stares down at you like a mere insect through his half-lidded eyes.

For some reason, Sukuna's two-word scares you. The look in his eyes didn't die; the hard truth was a hard pill for him to swallow. Even if he were to remain calm, unpredictability was something that he was always capable of, no matter what. You know how to hide your mind with practice and put on a fake facade, but Sukuna could do it with mitigation like it was second nature to him.

Sukuna took a step away from your stature, then another with his back turned out this time, and opened the door with a quick motion. The door slide hits the other side with a loud clack that spooks Yumi whose shoulders jump up in fright.

When Sukuna entirely disappears, and his footsteps can't be heard anymore, you only allow yourself to breathe freely when a part of your deception falters. Rubbing your eyes with your thumb and forefinger in agitation, you tell yourself to water down your anxious thoughts. Now it looks like you can't always rely on your aloofness and nonchalance to do all your work in warding off that damn demon. Sukuna is an intelligent man; you would be biting off too much if you think Sukuna isn't one to be wary of.

You already give leeway to him to have an advantage over you due to your stupidity and inability to answer.

“Mistress, are you alright?” Yumi appeared right by your side.

A long sigh overcame you, “I'm not even gonna bother sleeping here in the castle.”

Sukuna grabs a vase and tosses it against the wall. The ceramic shattered with such impact that its pieces flew everywhere in the room with his rage. His temper was flaring and coursing through his veins like lava. Sukuna could feel a gaping wound opening up inside his chest; the mere thought of someone else occupying his precious wife's mind and heart stirred his demons. Who is this particular person that could take away your attention? Sukuna thought about Yuichi but immediately dismissed the thought.

The inferiority complex starts to bite his ego; the last time Sukuna ever felt this way was when he was barely fifteen. His competitive side to win at everything and anything makes him ruthless; he's not above using undermining tactics and people and cutting them down whenever it suits him. Sukuna wants others to think that he's enough for them to take advantage of them later on. The false sense of security when someone finally lets their guard down and him eating them alive makes him feel humming; the look of betrayal and disbelief fueled his ego and sadism.

“Uraume,” Sukuna spoke out with a tone that sounded like a hush, but it sounded more like the acceptance of what he was about to do next. “Find anyone who had any relationship with Lady (Name). I want to know.”

The figure at the corner of the room now in respect after getting their order; before they leave, they tell Sukuna something. "Before I do, Lord Sukuna, Lady (Name) left the compound half an hour ago to stay at an inn."

"Let her go and keep a close eye," sure, he's angry, but you always remain in his mind. Your safety comes first before anybody else. Uraume half bow again then leaves for good this time. Now Sukuna is all alone, mulling inside his mind with stoic swimming across his gapes. Even if his eyes say nothing and a person who truly knows him or a portion of it could see how mirth lays underneath those red orbs.

Sukuna sits down on the floor mat with a slump and brushes a hand through his pink hair; he takes a shogi piece and places it on the board.

Now, what to do? He'll let you go and cool down while he does the same. Sukuna isn't one to idle around for long, though; as soon as a solution comes up, he executes it perfectly. He's an extraordinarily detail-oriented man. It won't take long for him to make you comply by force this time.

Taglist: @sukunasobject @lilliansstuff @lucyrocks86 @ladywolf44005 @watyousayin @sandronebabyy @pinkrose1422 @skepticalleo @please-help-therapy-needed @whatsonthemirror @krispsprite @loser-alert @saturnknows @samidrc @littlemochi @akigoat @mxghostbee @rose4958

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silverzoomies · 1 year

Text

Antithesis

james patrick march x reader smut

warnings: smut, slow burn-ish, oral sex, one-sided pining, devotion, body worship, hand jobs, slight choking, pet names, oneshot

word count: 7640

a/n: my apologies if james seems at all ooc here. i try my goddamn hardest to keep characters as close to their source material as possible. but, when it comes to self indulgent smut, sometimes you gotta pull a few strings!!! oh, and i'd also like to apologize for the long length of this fic. and for how abruptly it ends hdsghkjdshkgsg it's a mess, sorry !!

bonus note ig: in 1920's slang, a "goof" is an idiot. james basically thinks of you as naive and dumb here. sorry!

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March doesn’t dislike you. “Dislike” is much too strong a word.

No, he tolerates you. Dare he think it, he might even be somewhat…fond of you. The two of you were born nearly a hundred years apart. And so, as expected, you were the absolute antithesis of one another. March built himself from the ground up. He started with little to nothing. Carrying with him a background he so dreaded to recall. Childhood memories best left buried deep. Never to see the shining light of day again. March walked with a prestigious elegance. Something all but lost to the world in modern times, he thought. He was high-class. New money incarnate. Fancy, social affairs and aesthetic, art-deco decor were his most treasured hobbies. Amongst his other, more…contentious interests. And you. What were you?

Some little goof. You poor thing. Your story was quite the tragedy, really. Born almost one hundred years later to middle class stock. An entirely different world from the one in which March knew. Your arrival to the hotel Cortez was…unfortunate. You were the embodiment of innocence. Overly polite to a fault. Kind to the staff and the hotel’s mysterious residents. Never going out of your way to disturb a single soul. And you always made sure to apologize for the times you did.

And like all lives brought to the Cortez, yours ended there. A shame. A pity. Truly. What a waste. After you died, you drifted aimlessly for a while. Exploring every inch of the hotel you could. Bearing witness to the unspeakable horror that burned like scorching fire from inside. The hotel Cortez was nothing short of the infernal regions made earthly.

Even so, you weren’t the least bit fazed by this fact. Death changed you. It changed your moral perspective.

But you were missing something. A purpose. Every soul, lost adrift, needed purpose.

Liz knew all.

She knew everything about everyone. Including you. You’d sit at the bar, talking to her for hours on end. About your life. Liz’s life. The lives of the Cortez’s other, ghostly residents. She’d tell you of the hotel and its history. And you learned all there was to know. But in sharing your deepest thoughts, desires, and fears, you’d been a little too open. And Liz learned enough that, had a curious party asked about you? She could easily act as an informant.

You were a poor sap. Harboring a deep rooted, psychological need to please.

In death, you told Liz, you wanted nothing more than, simply…a person. Someone to dedicate yourself to entirely. Someone to love, to adore, to spend all of eternity caring for. Such an innocent desire, from such an unsullied soul.

You heard of him only in passing. James Patrick March.

You knew of his murderous atrocities. And you’d heard whispers of his bloodied history in hushed tones. Liz told you of everything March built, and what he’d become in the process.

March assumed you thought nothing of it. Nothing of him. Because at the Cortez, he was often that. Nothing more than a rumor. Only making himself present whenever necessary. Any other day? He remained a chilling, ghost story. And that’s all he’d been to you.

Until the two of you crossed paths, that is.

March was polite and courteous, as he always is. And the soulless, empty void of his dark eyes met yours. Pure, beautiful, and innocent. The two of you couldn’t have been more different from one another. You, his polar opposite. If he were the infernal reaches of hell itself, you were the luminous kingdom of heaven.

Whatever you felt for him, it must have been instantaneous.

Because suddenly, your sorrow dissipated. A lifetime of suffering and anguish faded away into thin air. And finally, you were free. Joyous. You, the little goof. Your demeanor somehow became all the more polite and inviting. Ironic, really. Considering…the source of your happiness was the very personification of evil itself.

You’d skip around the hotel with a spring in your step. Greeting everyone who passed you in the halls with a chipper, sunny disposition. Parading around in those loose-fitting clothes. Your skin decorated in ink reminiscent of your rather quirky interests. Appalling, if you were to ask him.

You were vexatious. And yet…

March found he appreciated your company.

You really were too sweet. Sickeningly so. Like cavity-inducing candy. Truly good at heart. There wasn’t a hateful, nefarious bone in your body. But you were deeply loyal to a fault. It was a weakness that kept you chained. It held you down. Never allowing you to reach your true potential. March could see it. He saw right through you, straight into your delicate soul. He saw your aura. Unsullied purity.

March learned all he could about you from Liz.

And once he had, he felt the need to test your unbroken clarity.

He showed you everything. Every secret. Every piece of gory history which revealed his past, his life’s purpose, his true intentions. The never-ending, torturous suffering he brought upon the innocent lives of the world. He confessed to you his killings. Even going into the dark, gritty details. March stared you down with an empty, far off look in his shady eyes. An uncanny gaze. And he expressed to you all his crazed, degenerate passions.

He expected you to react accordingly. Like any soul so pure and unblemished as yours should.

But death…

Death truly did change you. The hotel Cortez? It corrupted your moral code.

Perhaps he was mistaken. Maybe you weren’t as innocent as you often seemed.

You treated his passions like any other hobby. And you engaged in conversation about them casually. Beaming the brightest, most curious, smile. Your eyes glimmered with genuine interest and fascination. And March found he was more than happy to share that part of himself with you. Delighted to discuss his exploits with a newfound friend. A trusted friend.

He did long for someone to talk to…

And it was then, he realized. He knew. He was woefully fucked.

Because you. Naive, little goof that you were…

You’d found your purpose.

The one person whom you’d give your undying devotion, for forever and into eternity.

No one, not a single soul in the hotel had expected it. When you sat at the bar, sipping on your sweet sodas instead of anything alcoholic (ever the carefree babe, you were). You spoke of having ‘found’ your purpose. And there were smiles all around. “ Ooh’s ” and “ Aah’s ” exchanged through hushed gossip. Who could this person be, they asked themselves.

Imagine the residents’ surprise once they put two and two together.

Of all people. Him? Really? Were you mad as a hatter?

From then on, you followed March everywhere. Attached at his side like a leech. And though he considered you a dear friend, you weren’t much more to him than a loyal dog. You offered your help whenever you saw fit. And, somewhat reluctantly, he allowed it.

To his surprise, March found you respected his personal space. You’d disappear when he found your company too overwhelming. Sometimes, you were gone for days. Or even weeks. Off to explore the hotel again. Or to drift aimlessly as you did in the days before you’d found him. Uncertain as to what you should do in your lonesome. Sometimes, you’d listen to music. Clamorous racket of the modern era.

And eventually, always, you returned.

Sometimes, March found he missed your presence when you were gone.

And despite the admiration you carried for him, you valued March’s love for his dearest wife. The Countess. Often, you’d go so far as to listen to him drone on and on about her. And he could. If March were allowed the opportunity, he’d speak of her for centuries. He’d reminisce about his most cherished memories of her. His Elizabeth. Mrs. March. When March had his monthly dinners with his dearest, you felt it necessary to assist. You were insistent upon it, actually. Helping alongside Ms. Evers, you did what you could to make those nights as grand and romantic as possible. And when he banished Ms. Evers, you didn’t hesitate to take over entirely. Every one of those special nights, you were there to help him prepare.

Once the dinners themselves started, you’d run off. Leaving the pair undisturbed. And he wouldn’t see you again until the next morning.

One night, March sat across from the countess at the table. She glared at him with a half-lidded, miserable expression. But March missed this glare. Because he’d been busy watching you leave. He smiled, raising his glass to you. And you waved him off, wishing him luck, before closing the door.

At that very moment, he made a decision.

The next night came, and there he sat. Present at the dinner table again. Only, you were his cherished guest of the evening. Dinner lay before you both. Though, in death, you never ate. March watched with a grin as you sipped some champagne. You fluttered delicate lashes his way. Devotion leaking like tears from your eyes. A delighted smile played across your lips. One always present in his company, he found.

“Darling! I assume you’re wondering why it is I’ve called you here tonight, hm?” He posed the question rather excitedly.

Your pretty, doe eyes widened at that. You poor thing. Your cheeks burned in a flurry of rose red. Even in the dim, candle-lit light of the room. Even at a distance, across the table, March could see your blush clear as day. He smirked into his glass.

Never, in all the years since the two of you met, had he ever addressed you as darling.

The effect this seemed to have on you was very much apparent. He could see the shift in your expression. The way you’d fallen breathless under his cold-blooded gaze. March couldn’t help but find your obvious desire for him…amusing.

“Uhm…y-...yes. Well…sorta? I figured this was just another…casual, hang-out night for us!” Your quiet, timid voice spoke aloud.

March lowered his glass, and he hummed.

“Casual? I suppose one could consider this casual, if they’d prefer.” March said, “All the same, I’ve called you here because…I have a proposition for you!”

“Wh-uh…what kinda proposition, sir?”

“Let’s not dance around the matter any longer, dear. Simply put, I’m well aware.” He said.

Confusion overtook your delicate features, and your brows knitted together. March sat still in his seat with a knowing smirk. You tilted your head, bringing your own glass down to the table.

“I’m…confused. You’re aware of what, exactly?”

“Why, that you’re in love with me, of course.” March stated.

Your eyes widened further. March caught the awkward movement of one of your hands. It trembled where it lay on the table. And when you spoke again, you did so shyly. Your voice was as soft as the pink in your cheeks.

“A-Am I?” You dared to ask. As though he hadn't known all these years.

March’s knowing grin spread wider. A dark, domineering color washed over his eyes. And he fixed you with an intimidating look. One that could so easily kill, had you been anyone else. Even in death, you felt your stomach twist in fluttery knots at the sight. You dropped your bashful gaze to the table, too nervous to look him in the eye. You were being avoidant, March knew. And your denial only heightened his desire to bait you.

“I’m not stupid, old friend. For how long?” He asked.

“Since…” You swallowed nervously, shrinking in on yourself, “...the moment I saw you.”

March’s expression remained unchanged. His cold gaze unblinking.

“All this time?”

Taking a brave chance at looking him in the eye, you glanced upward. And you were met with that empty, black gaze. Pools of ink, much like an abyss, stared intensely at you. You didn’t need to say anything further. His suspicions were confirmed then. March’s brows pressed together in thought.

“I…see.” He said, and he brought his hand to his chin, “Well, in all those years? You’ve proven yourself undoubtedly loyal to me. You see, so often, when Ms. Evers was around. Though, I did care for her. She had these…maddening tendencies. She’d express her apparent distaste for my darling wife. And she was incredibly passive. Selfishly so.”

As March spoke, his tone shifted. Infected with a venomous sting, and unbridled hatred. His other hand, resting on the table, clenched into a fist.

“As you’re aware…Ms. Evers…she deceived me. In the name of love, was her excuse. Such a…disappointing betrayal.” March lingered on the statement for a moment longer.

He snapped himself out of his spiteful rage. Blinking, March perked up. And his handsome grin returned.

“But, you! You’re quite the opposite of her, aren’t you? Wouldn’t you say? Never once have you said an unkind word. You’ve always been so polite to my dearest Mrs. March. And so generous to me! I can't recall you ever acting selfishly. And for that, I must tell you, I am profoundly grateful. It's so dreadfully difficult to find someone you can trust these days.”

“O-Of course!” You nodded, speaking in a gentle tone, “I guess…I just don’t really care if you-uh…if you never feel the same way I do. Being by your side, sir…getting to see you every day…”

Dreamily, you sighed. Like a dame in a daze of infatuation. The sweetest smile graced your blushing face.

“To see that smile of yours. And those eyes…” You sighed once more, “To hear your heavenly voice…that’s enough for me.”

You allowed a little…indulgence to slip through your confessions. Admiration and adoration for March permeated within your every word. Looking at you, he could practically see with his own eyes the unconditional love scorching with a passionate fury in your eyes. He might’ve even felt for himself your amorous desire. It exuded like pheromones from your admittedly fetching body.

He almost found it…endearing.

March blinked, clearing his throat. He tugged at his collar.

“Yes…I trust your devotion knows no earthly bounds, my dear.” He said, bringing his hands together before him, “Which is why, I’d like to present to you…that proposition! I’m nothing, if not a man of mercy. And if anyone is more than deserving of my mercy, it’s you, old friend.” March pointed to you with a ring-clad finger. And curiously, you tilted your head. “If you recall…before my dearest passed? She and I often had those dinners together. One night a month! They were…so very special to me. Truly a gift. The only thing that kept me balanced in this endless, monotonous purgatory of my own design. …Such a treat it was…to share at least…one night with my beloved.”

“It must’ve been nice, sir. Especially after she passed? To have her around more often? I know that meant everything to you.”

“It did.” March smiled fondly. And yet, as quick as it came, his adoring smile fell.

A broken-hearted melancholy plagued his ghostly features.

“Though…our time together has…diminished these days. She avoids me anymore. Hasn’t spoken a word to me in…weeks. Do you know that, at last night’s dinner? She didn’t say a goddamn thing! And again, she’s run off in search of…the pleasures of other men…”

March stared off, his dead-eyed gaze dropping to the table.

“It’s a….barren feeling. The most desolate ache I’ve ever endured…” He confessed.

Sympathetic, little goof. You looked at him then with an expression of sympathy, and opened your mouth to speak. March interrupted you before you could even begin. The very, last thing he wanted was your pity. At the flip of a dime, March perked up once more. He clapped his hands together loudly, suddenly appearing chipper. Beaming a wide, uncannily sweet grin.

“But nevermind all that, darling! What I’m proposing…is of a similar nature. For you, if you’d like! If it’d satisfy your deepest, perverted desires? Then, for one night a month…I, James Patrick March, owner of the hotel Cortez and America’s most infamous executioner…am all yours!”

Your eyes flew open wide. Like a precious, vulnerable creature under the gaze of a vicious predator. And your darling face…it burned an even brighter shade of red. March’s smile crooked up into a smirk. Addicting it was…this influence he seemed to have over you. Precious thing.

“Wait…wh-...what??” You waved your hands, “Oh, no, no, no! I couldn’t ever ask that of you, sir! Please, really! Don’t even worry about it! I’m not-...I don’t have to have you in that way to survive our purgatory together!”

The silence that overtook the room was deafening. In the background, the ticking of an old clock rang on. Along with the distant, alluring melody of a gramophone. John McCormack. Roses of Picardy. March stood up after some time. And slowly, steadily, he made his way to you at the other end of the dining table. He approached you wordlessly, eyes like obsidian focused entirely on your own. Analyzing and observing. Once close enough, he reached a large hand out. His palm fell to your shoulder, squeezing you in a firm grip. Leaning in, March spoke in a low, gravelly tone.

“Are you suggesting that you’re…ungrateful? You do realize this is…a gracious gesture…coming from a man of my status…” He didn’t break eye contact with you for even a second. March’s grip on your shoulder tightened, “...don’t you, little one?"

Despite the menacing nature of his actions, you let your eyes so shamelessly trail up and down his fancily-dressed form. And March saw all of it. Every movement of your eyes. The motion of your throat as you swallowed. The not-so-subtle way you leaned into his touch. How your thighs pressed together as if to relieve some…personal tension.

He raised a brow. Curious.

Your eyes sparkled innocently up at him. And again, you fluttered those delicate lashes.

“I’m not ungrateful, sir! I’m so honored. I mean, obviously, I’m honored! But…” You scoffed, as if in disbelief, “But, me? I mean…come on… you ? With me??” With a soft huff of a laugh, you looked down at your lap, “But…I’m not…Mrs. March. I’m…nothin’ like her.”

March hummed a sound which suggested his pity for you.

“You’re right. You’re not…” He muttered in monotone, “You lack everything my dearest Elizabeth has. Her grace. Her ethereal elegance. She…is a creature of divinity.” March paused for a beat, “But you’ve no confidence nor class, I’m afraid. You’re more…a being of the mundane.”

Again, a sinister loathing invaded his gaze.

“But…unlike Ms. Evers…wretched, old bat…” He growled.

A wild grin spread across March’s lips, his teeth sinking into them. He brought his other hand to your chin, gently tilting it upward. Upon your face, he caught a broken-hearted frown.

“You, darling…” He hummed, “You have been blessed with certain…more pleasant qualities…”

His hand on your shoulder grazed a thumb across it. March let his eyes drop to your figure, as if to suggest something. And in that instant, you felt your lifeless heart skip a beat. As though your soul were springing to life again. Born anew.

“I…have?” You furrowed your brows, “So…what you’re sayin’ is…this is you settling? For someone lesser?”

March hummed again, considering your words. He pulled both hands from you.

“I prefer to think of it this way. In return for your undeniable devotion and loyalty throughout the tenure of our friendship. I’m giving you the opportunity to be with me. Consider it a reward, if you will. However you wish, my dear. One night a month, you can have me. Romantically. Physically. Intimately.”

“Uh…okay…wow! That’s-...that’s…very kind of you, sir.” You stared up at March with those doting eyes. Biting your lip, you hesitated to ask, “So…wh-...when would we-uhm…when would we start?” A pause, and you nervously stammered over your words, “I-if I were to-uh…accept your…generous proposition?”

Immediate eagerness. Exactly the response he’d suspected from someone as smitten as yourself. March leered down at you smugly, his eyes falling half-lidded

Desperate, little thing, weren’t you?

“Tonight, if you’d prefer! Or…any night of your choosing. Whatever you want, darling. I insist. This courtesy is entirely yours.” He suggested.

A moment of contemplative quiet passed as you thought it over. And March watched you like a hawk, patiently waiting. Though, he already knew exactly what you were going to say. Even before you’d made a decision. The rosy color blooming darker in your cheeks ultimately gave you away.

“T-Tonight then? If you’ll…have me.” You stammered, “I’m honored, sir.”

March wanted to laugh. To boast that he could read you all too well. But calmly, he nodded.

“Very well!”

He walked off then. March pulled at the fabric of his bowtie, tugging until it came completely undone. Following that motion, he shrugged his jacket off. Folding it neatly and setting it aside, he moved to unbutton the first, few buttons of his dress shirt. March disappeared into another room, out of sight. But you heard his familiar, smoky voice call out.

“Come!”

Hesitating, you stood from your seat at the table. And with tiny, careful steps, you followed the sound of March’s voice. In a vintage loveseat, you found him waiting. He sat with his chin in his hand, a cigarette burning between two fingers. His legs were spread open wide. And he patted his lap.

“Best not to waste anymore time, dear.”

“Wh-...What are we doin’?” You asked, looking down at your hands as you fiddled with them.

Poor dear. You were standing in the room so timidly. Looking innocent, and so very delicate. Like a frightened, fluffy, little deer. Easy game, for a hunter like March.

“Isn’t this what you want?” He took a drag of his cigarette, his tone low and vibrating. March spread his legs open further, “Don’t be bashful, now, little one. I’ll only bite if you ask it of me.”

You seemed hesitant. Fearful of making any sudden moves. But, with a facade of confidence March knew all too well you didn’t possess, you approached him. And you lowered yourself into his lap slowly, struggling to maintain eye contact. Eye contact was one of March’s many, gifted talents. And being such a shy dame, you could barely keep up. Once snug on his lap, you took time to admire March. Carefully, you trailed your hands down his chest. And you let your trembling fingers brush the fabrics of his perfectly tailored clothes. Clothes once deep-cleaned of blood-stains by the very maid he considered an abomination.

Your hands moved upwards, first tracing over the bloody slit in his neck. Before cupping his cheeks for only a moment. You brushed a small thumb over one of his dimples. March smiled at you, hardly invested in what you were doing. Allowing you to have your fun. You touched March with careful, delicate movements. Handling him as if he were your most precious, priceless treasure. You looked at him as though you couldn’t fathom the reality before you. As though being with him like this was a foggy, distant dream. One you’d never ask to wake from.

Daringly, you leaned in. And you let your cool breath ghost over his lips.

“A-Are you sure about this, sir?” You asked, timid as ever.

March appeared unbothered and uncaring. Yet, admittedly, he felt somewhat curious of your next move. How far could a shy, innocent thing like you take this…intimate interaction? March assumed you’d clock out after a bit of heavy petting. With an equanimous smirk, he nodded.

“Positively certain.” He muttered, “And please, while we’re together like this, darling? Do call me James. You can forgo the formalities.”

You blinked, amazed. Looking into his eyes with all the love and adulation in the ever-expanding cosmos. Marveling in his presence. Your nose brushed his, and you leaned even further in.

And you kissed him.

It was a clumsy, graceless kiss at first. But as you continued, you found your confidence. A heated flow enveloped your every movement. And for the first, few kisses, March didn’t reciprocate. He kept a hand at the armrest of the loveseat. His other occupied with that cigarette. He didn’t care to touch you yet. But as your kisses drew him in deeper, as you mewled little noises into his lips…March found himself giving in. One of his large hands found your hips, squeezing there first. Before moving to wrap his arm around your back. He pulled you in close. And you ran your hands up through his hair. Freeing those irresistible curls of his.

Finally, at long last, he kissed you back. And in that instant, you drank in the motions of a man far more cultivated and refined than you could ever hope to be. In a thousand lifetimes, you could never live up to his status. And yet, he kissed you anyway. If you could taste, his lips would’ve tasted of champagne and nicotine.

“Wow-” You breathlessly gasped into his lips.

A flash of fire burned in his lidded eyes, and he peered up at you. March let out a soft, vibrating chuckle.

“Eager are we, darling?”

“Uh…” Poor, little goof. Still so lost in your lovestruck daze, “I just-”

The urge to kiss March again proved far too much for you to resist. You leaned in again, capturing his skilled lips in another flurry of deep kisses. And when you pulled back, you shook your head. For a moment, you simply stared at March. Taking in his ghostly features. Admiring his handsome face, his black eyes, the curls of his hair.

“Thank you, si-uhm…James. Thank you. I…never imagined…you’d ever let me touch you. Let alone k-uhm…kiss you like this…”

He chuckled again, humming a deep noise in his chest. The sound sent a spark of something gratifying straight to your core.

“I told you, didn’t I? I am, after all, a man of mercy…”

You brought a hand up to his cheek, stroking it gently with soft fingers. March noticed that, whenever you touched him, you did so as if he were a timeless lover.

“You most certainly are…” Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his forehead, “...so gracious.”

March hadn’t expected you to wiggle backwards. And where did you think you were going? Were you giving up already? Giving into your paranoid worries? You let yourself sink off his lap and onto your knees. Scooting your way across the carpet and in between his legs, you gazed up at March with those lovely, doe eyes.

“You know…I’d do anything for you, don’t you James?” You trailed your hands up to his trousers, your fingers fiddling with the buttons, “...is this alright?”

To say he was caught off guard by your boldness, would be one hell of an understatement. His innocent, pure-of-heart, little goof? Submitting to him on their knees so easily like this? How had he never suspected this of you? March’s empty eyes widened, watching you from above with a dark, predatory gaze.

“If it’s what you so desire, then…do continue. I’m not going to stop you. This is your night, little one. Don’t you remember?”

You stared at him for a moment longer, uncertain of yourself. Before finally working the buttons of his trousers open. Bringing a small hand through the slit in the fabric, you felt around. And your fingers brushed across-

An adorable gasp escaped your lips.

You…hadn’t expected him to be hard. If the surprised, embarrassed look on your face was anything to go by. Because surely, the James Patrick March himself couldn’t possibly be aroused over someone as mundane as you. Could he?

Sucking in a slow breath, you continued. Your fingers snuck their way through the softness of his undergarments. A bit of movement, and you pulled his thick cock free. At the sight of the twitching length, those sparkling eyes of yours lit up brightly. Beaming, as if mesmerized. You were practically drooling over his cock. And you’d barely touched it at all.

March’s breath hitched from above. He watched you attentively, focused on the movement of your small hand. It stroked and squeezed around the thickness of him. Somewhat skillfully, he’d have to admit. Almost as though you knew exactly what you were doing. How is it that here, touching him intimately, you weren’t the least bit clumsy?

You bravely tilted your head upward, meeting his darkening gaze.

“You said…I could do whatever I wanted?” You asked. Your tone had fallen considerably lower. It sounded seductive, even, “May I sing your praises, James?”

March had never heard you speak in that tone before. He hadn't realized you were even capable.

Wordlessly, he nodded. You gave a few more firm strokes of his cock, leaning in to kiss the tip gently. And as the soft wetness of your lips brushed it, you hummed. Reveling in every second you had March like this. Even in such a filthy, perverted position. With the head of his leaking cock at your lips. Your eyes glimmered, acting as windows. And your complete devotion for him shined through like the light of the sun. Holding eye contact (when did you get so good at that?), you generously peppered his cock in mouthy, wet kisses.

“Just let me worship you, James…” You sighed, dragging your free hand down one of his thighs. Your nails drew lines into the fabric, “Let me appreciate you. That’s…really the only thing I could ever ask for.”

He kept watching you, occasionally taking long drags from his cigarette. March found himself in awe of your boldness and honesty. Though, if there was one thing he knew about you for certain. You were always honest with him. Turning your attention to his aching cock, you pushed the head past your lips. You lapped up the bead of precum leaking from the tip, mewling in pure delight. Suckling for a few beats too short, you pulled away by an inch.

“You…are the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen. Did you know that, James? Have I ever told you? I could stare at you all day. Every day. Forever, if you let me. You’ve got the most stunning, beautiful, brown eyes…”

You paused in the midst of your praises to push the tip of his cock past your lips again. Letting your tongue dance around it, you stroked the remaining length with your hand. And just when he thought you might give him more, you pulled away.

“You can’t imagine how thrilling it is to have those ferocious eyes looking down on me right now. Oh, and I absolutely adore your smile. How full your lips are. Kissing them was like a gift of temptation, straight from the depths of hell. And I am in no way deserving of such a thing…”

March was steadily beginning to lose his composure. That calm, unbothered demeanor of his teetered on the edge. Threatening to fall with every cutesy noise you made, and every flick of your tongue. With each confession of your deepest admirations, he felt himself breaking. March knew you loved him. He knew you found purpose in serving him. And yet, somehow, he hadn’t been aware of the extent at which your worship of him ran. He took another drag of his cigarette. March’s free hand found your hair, and his oversized palm settled there. He didn’t yet tug, but merely braced himself.

“No modern man dresses nearly as elegantly as you do. Those men at those high-class fashion shows? The ones they have here? They can’t even begin to compare. It’s almost intimidating…how refined and elegant you truly are.”

You halted your confessions, only to take the entire length of his twitching cock into your mouth. Moaning around it, you sucked hard. Letting your tongue drag along the underside, across pulsing veins. You pulled off all over again. And March’s grip in your hair tightened only slightly. You continued to stroke his cock, spreading the wetness your tongue left behind.

“You’re so intimidating. So good at striking fear into those around you. But, god…it only makes me more attracted to you. You’re intoxicating. I can’t get enough of you…”

Breaking eye contact, you focused on his cock. You stopped to admire the heavy weight of him on your tongue. And you had the nerve to giggle with the innocence of a dame in church. March remained speechless. He stared you down as you took his full length into your mouth again. Your praises fell short for a bit. Instead, you were fixated on pleasuring him with more enthusiasm. Your movements slowly grew rapid. But as you edged him further, you popped off. You nuzzled his soaked, aching cock with your cheek. And once more, you giggled. It was infuriating.

“I wish you could hear your voice. Fuck…your voice. Your accent. It’s to die for!” The smile you gave him radiated purity, and you bit your swollen lip between your teeth, “You’re to die for. Y’know? I’d die for you. Over and over again.”

Dragging your tongue up and down his cock, you peppered it in more, loving kisses. And you fluttered those pretty lashes.

“As many times as you wanted me to. If I could die by your hands, James, I would. If it’d make you happy? If cutting my throat and watching the life drain from my eyes would satisfy you…”

March’s grip in your hair tightened even further, clenching around your soft locks.

Who knew his little goof could be such a shameless sycophant? Groveling over his deviant passions.

He was growing immensly impatient. You’d carried on this little charade of praises for far too long. When you lowered your mouth over his cock, March guided you. With the rough hold he had on your head, he forced you down. The action caught you by surprise. As the tip of his cock pressed into the back of your throat, you gagged, squeezing around the head. And a pleased grunt erupted off March’s tongue, cigarette smoke rising from his lips. Reaching over the arm of the loveseat, he put the cigarette out in an ashtray. And while doing so, March kept his half-lidded eyes, dark as burning coals, on you. His throbbing length filled your throat, and you took all of it. Every inch. You squeezed his thigh hard with a hand, letting your fingernails dig into the fabric of his trousers. As you clawed at his thigh for purchase, a wicked grin spread across his face. Salty tears stung your pretty eyes. They poured down your flushed cheeks completely out of your control. An embarrassing display. March’s breathing picked up in pace. He jerked you backwards, pulling you off his cock by your hair. Generously, he allowed you a moment to catch your breath. Not that you needed it, really. Being dead and all. Smirking down at you, he sank his teeth into his lip. And upon his pale cheeks, you caught the slightest hint of a pink hue.

You’d never once seen March blush on account of something you did.

“Y-You were…you were saying, darling?” March, usually so well spoken, stumbled over his words.

With a smile, you returned to your previous motions. Dragging your tongue lazily up and down his cock, you stroked him with a hand.

“U-Uhm…” That timid nature of yours returned. Perhaps on account of his manhandling? But you fought to shake it off, “Y’know somethin’ else I love about you, James? That look in your eye. I can’t even describe it. When you’re feelin’ bloodthirsty? When you’re thinkin’ about unleashin’ hell? You look divine like that.”

His gaze turned colder then. March’s fingers dug fingernails further into your skull. And the gesture was near painful. He didn’t seem to care, even when you hissed in response to the sting. Your puffy lips and mouth were drenched in drool. And your hair! His rough handling left it frazzled and wild. You looked an absolute mess of yourself. And in any other circumstance, March would’ve found it repulsive. At this moment, however…

“That…storm in your eyes. The passion that rages on once you’ve taken the life of another. There’s somethin’ so…irresistible about it. Makes me wish I could’ve dropped on my knees and worshiped you like this sooner.” You covered his cock in those mouthy, sloppy kisses, “I just want to submit myself to you, James. Let you have all of me.”

“Really now? Is that how you feel, little one? Truly? ” He spoke suddenly, catching you by surprise.

His fingers curled harshly into your hair, and he pulled you back in a rough, swift motion.

“Enough of this.” March said, “I realize, I said before, this was your night. And you should be the one calling the shots, with me at your leniency. However, since you seem to want my attention so desperately, darling. You’re going to listen to me now.”

You stared up at him with a wide-eyed, sinless gaze. And you didn't dare to say a single word. Good then.

“On the floor. And strip yourself bare for me, would you?” He commanded.

You let yourself fall backwards. And with the motion, March’s grip in your hair loosened. He let go, keeping his eyes on you, as you scooted back along the carpeted floor. The rough surface burned the skin of your elbows. But in death, it didn’t matter. Come tomorrow, you'd be left with not a single mark. Zero evidence of the night's events. Hastily, you shed your clothes. Your fingers trembled with every movement. March followed, standing slowly from his seat. He watched as you laid yourself naked and bare before him. And he pulled down his suspenders. His pants followed, leaving him in those soft undergarments. March hadn’t yet removed his dress shirt, and he didn’t bother to now.

He dropped to his knees on the floor, crawling over you with an animalistic gaze in his eyes. Immediately upon reaching you, he kissed you deeply. Drinking down every surprised noise you made in response. Your noises. Those mewls and squeals. He wanted to hear more. He had to hear more.

March wasn’t the fondest of missionary. But that devotion, that love, that worship bleeding profusely from your eyes. He didn’t want to miss a single moment of it. March found he needed to look at you. To watch you. His hands trailed down your body, touching you with precise grace. Each touch started with a delicate brush of his fingertips, steadily growing rougher. And there you were, pleasured by the hands of a murderer with almost a hundred years of practice behind him.

As he looked you over with those dark eyes, he could see you slipping so easily into madness. Submitting to him, an eternal ghost of pure malevolence.

And you were pushed even further over the brink once March buried two, long fingers in your cunt. All without a single warning. No preparation. He shoved his digits deep, watching you with a devious smirk. You breathlessly moaned, and your slick walls squeezed around his fingers. March knew every angle at which to twist and press his digits. Only to spur more of those lovely noises out of you.

His long, dexterous fingers pulled themselves from your cunt, and you longed for more. You ached for him, whining pitiful, little protests. And your desperate desire was soon satiated.

In one, rough motion, March forced his cock through your folds. He buried himself deep in a single thrust, growling a rough noise in response to your screams. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around him. And you pulled March closer, inching him impossibly deeper.

He hadn’t been this…intimate with another person in…what felt like a millenia. Having his cock buried to the hilt in the tight plush of your cunt…it was enough to make him lose it. March had to take a moment to gather himself. Before he began harshly drilling you into the floor. And the rug underneath you burned painfully against your skin. Though, in this position, you couldn’t help but find the sensation extremely gratifying.

Your screams were all the encouragement he needed. And you begged him to fuck you harder. To vent all his pent up anger and fury using your fragile body as his aid. March gazed down at you, his eyes carrying a near sinister edge. The pace at which he fucked you grew vigorous and unrelenting. A jolt of pleasure shot through your core suddenly, as March pressed his deft fingers to your clit. Rubbing slick, generous circles against the sensitive bud, he soaked in the sight of you falling apart underneath him. Your precious moans were like music to his ears. March cooed quiet praises in a rugged voice, encouraging you to give in. To succumb to the sweet allure of release. He knew you needed it desperately. All the pent up desire you'd carried for him for so long must have felt torturous. A man of mercy, he was. He couldn't allow you to suffer like that any longer. Not after all you'd done for him. After having been so loyal.

He felt your release, as it hit you like a rushing wave. Your walls constricted around his cock in a tight pull, and your entire body trembled. Those delightful screams of yours were more than likely heard across every floor of the hotel. But March's mind was much too hazy with pleasure to care. He wanted the world to hear you. For you to let them all know just who it was you'd submitted yourself to entirely. And as you came down from your high, sobbing soft cries. You met his eyes. Tears rained down your cheeks, and you shivered under his cold gaze. How vulnerable you looked...

One of March’s large, veiny hands found your neck. He squeezed with so much strength that, had you been alive; he easily would’ve cut off your circulation. However, in death, the ache that came with asphyxiation felt like euphoria. Under the pressure of his fingers and hands, you were ascending to the stars. Or, rather…considering you were getting mercilessly fucked by a devilish being such as March? Perhaps a more accurate comparison would be: March was dragging you violently down to an all too pleasurable circle of hell itself.

His cock hit your cervix with a few more, harsh thrusts of his hips. And you were left to suffer the ache of overstimulation. As he squeezed your neck hard enough to leave bruises, and tight enough to kill any living person. March reached his peak. A thick warmth burst from his cock, overflowing you from deep inside. His release filled you up until it leaked from your folds. Purity and innocence sullied. You were his little goof now.

You probably expected March to pull out, now that you received exactly what you wanted. Surely, March would move away from you. Only to clean up, redress himself, and go about his business. Keeping his distance until the next month came. And…he thought he’d have done the same. March didn’t care for you on a deep level of any kind. A loyal dog. That’s all you were. A follower. Indeed. A naive, not-so-innocent, little goof. Who also, just so happened to be completely and utterly in love with him.

And March was not at all enchanted by your obsessive devotion. Why would he be? There was only one woman for him. His dearest wife. His Elizabeth. Mrs. March. If anything, you were simply a means of distraction. Easy company in light of his most lonesome days. His old friend. You weren’t graceful. You weren’t classy. You were, at your core, his polar opposite. Of course. Yes. In the euphoric haze of post-orgasmic bliss, he'd almost forgotten.

But even so…

March found he couldn’t pull himself from you. For a few moments longer, he kept his softening cock buried inside your slick walls. There he rested, on his knees, staring down at you from above. His gaze was much less blackened. Instead, replaced with a warm brown. Leaning forward, March buried his flushed face in your shoulder. He nibbled the gentle skin of your collarbone, breathing out his exhaustion.

He chuckled a hushed, but maniacal noise. The vibrations of which tickled your bruised skin. Not to worry, those bruises wouldn’t be there tomorrow. Some possessive part of him wished they would be, though. March raised his head up, looking down into your eyes with a soft, more than satisfied smirk. The curls of his hair fell even more loose upon his head. And once more, he leaned in, only to brush his nose against yours.

“You know…” He mumbled in a croaky whisper. You felt him slowly, gently thrust his hips forward, “...the night is still young, little one. And there’s so much more the two of us could do together…should you be interested...”

His lips met yours in a kiss far too intimate for a casual session of coitus. And you kissed him nervously back, as though you weren’t allowed to indulge yourself. That familiar sense of naivety and purity claimed you all over again. And for whatever reason, it made March want to kiss you more. To envelop you entirely, all his own. His old friend. His little goof. Poor, not-so-innocent sap.

Maybe he was...a little fond of you.

Only a little.

#james patrick march x reader #james patrick march x y/n #james patrick march x you #jpm x reader #jpm x y/n #jpm x you #smut #american horror story #ahs

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cephalonserotonin · 4 months

Text

Devstream 180 Notes

This is a long one, folks.

brought to you by creative lead Rebb Executive Producer Dick Wolf

New dojo contest to kick off a transition to cross-save dojo world… see forum post

Pride Campaign 2024

is active now until the end of June! a new glyph, display, and wings in lovely rainbows!

Jade Shadows update coming June 18!

features a new cinematic quest: Jade Shadows. It picks up after The New War (so it's got TNW as a prerequisite) where the storyline of the Stalker left off. Rebb and the crew request that folks not spoil the quest for others after playing it. Use spoiler tags if possible! Quest runtime ~ 25 min There's a teaser for the story quest, featuring the Stalker hanging upside down like a bat:

youtube

New Warframe: Jade!

Pablo describes her as a support frame. Her passive is two aura mod slots which is kind of crazy ngl

Her kit briefly summarized:

1: throws a little mote with an AOE effect of healing for allies and increasing damage taken to enemies

2: cycle through various squad buffs. The UI art for these is really gorgeous

3: a debuff: enemies in her sight are slowed and lose armor. You also revive any dead allies in your vision.

4: floating and a zappy exalted weapon. It's kind of like Hildryn's four but basically better in every way because you can actually set off large amounts of damage and fly higher and faster. The exalted weapon has synergy with her 1 and 2.

As Pablo mentioned, Jade's abilities provide a lot of combo potential, good for any "min maxers" in the audience.

Jade's three signature weapons: the Cantare throwing knives, the Harmony scythe, and the Evensong bow (a variant on the Dread).

The Ascension game mode: "what if Warframe but up?"

Non-endless There's a giant elevator you have to feed with energy. The team's video crashed so Rebb gave what I'd call an excited 12 year old's description of the game mode instead which I loved:

There's this giant elevator that needs energy to go up. So you have to keep feeding it ionic charges so you rise out of the depths. And as you're feeding, the Corpus are there! *excitable machine gun noises* And then you're like, oh god! And then you have to, like, jump around-- but if you fall out of the elevator, you better hope you're good at parkour, and that you can read the level to get back up! and back up! and back up! And then: you have to make it to the top. But that's not all. Once you get to the top of the elevator, you gotta escape. You gotta make a run for it before the Corpus hold you back! Aahhh! Aah! Ah! …and that's Ascension. :)

Once we finally watch the video preview of the game mode later I think it looks fun. The level looks really neat; I love the graphics of the inside of the elevator. There's a new Jade Light eximus enemy here but I can't really tell any details about it quite yet.

ORDIS IN LARUNDA RELAY!

He's hosting the clan operation Belly of the Beast (featuring above Ascension game mode). In his shop is the Asteria ephemera, which evolves with community participation. Also some arcanes… and a beautiful skin for the Hate.

"If you're a hater, this is for you." Hilariously the arcanes are capped at 42 each because apparently in Gargoyle's Cry certain players went crazy burning themselves out to stock up on arcanes, and the team is trying to prevent that (and players blaming them for their own bad choices, as always). Two full sets each is more than enough, frankly.

Status Rework!

Blast now does a secondary detonation, or if hitting 10 blast procs, creates an AOE explosion. This is exactly what I have been wanting for ages so I, personally, am thrilled.

Magnetic now scales with overguard and shields the same way, and also does a secondary punch of damage (and an electric proc!) once the shield is broken.

Cold should freeze enemies more often now… and came with a free Frost rework! Now Frost's abilities give proper cold procs, thus freezing enemies, which is now standardized across his abilities. His 1 has been buffed and his 3 snowglobe has been modified (to allow shooting from in to out but not out to in). He has a new passive: his armor scales with the number of cold procs enemies have (like the defensive version of Ember).

There's a lot of testing going on right now on the interaction between ragdolling and freezing enemies.

There's a change to damage vulnerability mechanics which I didn't quite follow; seems to be mostly a simplification of the system.

Armor damage attenuation scaling, as mentioned in the last devstream, now has a cap, meaning corrosive procs should be more effective.

Yareli Deluxe

...looks like eldritch coral?

Next round of TennoGen

…finally comes with a Lavos skin, which is plague doctor themed.

Some augments (Protea's is probably OP), decrees (list shown below is incomplete), and arcanes

UI improvements!

In the upgrade screen: duplicate mod config button, indicator for substats, increased mod polarity

Augment list viewer in the abilities screen

Community customization table where you can copy others' fashions. Great news for gamers too unoriginal to make their own fashions, I guess. Coming at first for just Excalibur, Mag, Volt, and Jade.

Quick Access (fast travel wheel) for more areas like the dormizone.

UI autoscaling with resolution (to prevent tiny UI bars for people with huge resolutions), also coming with ability to scale the UI back down.

"Donut numbers" for damage view that do not cover the enemy you are shooting (old way can still be switched back to, called "cloud.")

Awakening quest has a lil fashion preview now!

Loadout hot swaps conveniently directly from the starchart!

QOL!

Cap on adversaries (liches and sisters) at 150. For the sake of database health. The programmer in me is mildly concerned that there was no limit before this.

Semi auto becoming full auto (see last devstream for more detailed description).

Automatic selection of last relic during endless relic cracks.

Streamlining necramech acquisition.

Unifying melee finishers and mercy kills (both with mechanics and appearance).

The return of Heirloom skins: starting with community art this time

First major change (from last year's disastrous heirloom launch) is the heirloom collections will now be released one warframe at a time.

Ember Heirloom is also a purchased fanartist concept!

Two paths to acquire it: a temporary paid path (for money, comes with some plat) and a plat path that will be available until next heirloom launch (and you can purchase the cosmetics individually!)

This is much better than last year's Heirloom launch, which, as aforementioned, caused a lot of community strife.

molten booty

And finally, the TennoCon 2024 schedule:

#warframe #devstream 180 #sera's devstream notes #Jade Shadows #tennocon 2024 #Jade #Youtube

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ebonysplendor · 9 months

Text

Where Winter Crows Go Review ❄️🐦‍⬛

TL;DR: Chaga mushrooms ain't the only thing that Crowe be foraging, but this time he doesn't want to share the spoils with the squad for research purposes.

Game Link: https://prikarin.itch.io/where-winter-crows-go

Notable Features: Gender Neutral MC, Optional Reader-Insert with choice of pronouns, Yandere LI, 17+ Spiciness: 1/5 -- It gets a little flirty, but it's sweet and innocent LI Red Flags: 3/5 -- Manipulative, little hands on, has a temper

Want to know more? Well, let's get into it!

Okay, so, the full release finally came, and ya girl was SO excited! The demo was very promising, but I needed a little more convincing. That being said, this wasn't by any means one of the one's that I was the most ecstatic about, but I was still excited enough about it to check back occasionally for the full release. I just so happened to get lucky recently and saw that it had actually dropped back in November. So, I was late, but not embarrassingly so. Now, this review on the other hand... But listen! I just recently decided to take the plunge and start making reviews, so mind ya business lol.

Anyways, this isn't about me and my tardiness, this is about this pleasant little game that really went for it in the full version, and boi, did they go for it!

I'd classify this as one of those "slow burn" visual novels, simply because it's not obvious that our LI is a lil' psycho off the rip, and there's nothing too unsettling from the jump aside from getting caught in a blizzard. Actually, since we're on the topic, the LI -- his name is Crowe Lynn, by the way -- is actually pretty damn hospitable, and he's a full blown scientist. The most shocking part is, he isn't even doing anything sketchy! for the most part. He is deadass living in the middle of nowhere for research purposes and is writing books to know why nature is...well, naturing, for lack of better wording.

That being said, I think the intro is long enough, and I'm really excited to tell you more about this game, because you guys have got to play this whenever you get the chance! As always, I'm going to tell you as much as possible about the game without ruining the game itself.

So, boom. We're -- or Aspen, should you decide to play through their eyes, but I prefer self-insert -- going on a trip in our favorite run down car to get to some town where there is supposed to be this really nice place to let off some steam via skiing. Trust me, we did research on this; we know what we're talking about. Anyways, while driving, we start noticing how we've been on this same road for a long time, and yet, we haven't seen anybody for an equally long time.

Run down car? Long road? No one for miles? You already know what's about to happen.

Yep, you guessed it, we get a flat, and as you've also probably guessed, we have no spare tire, but bear with me! The game isn't this predictable, I swear! You've gotta understand that it can just be a little hard to get away from certain tropes, and let's be real, they kind've have to happen for plot purposes. I mean, think about if we actually had a tire in the trunk. We would've been outtie, we would've had a great trip, and there would've been no game lol. Sometimes, you just gotta cut the devs some slack.

Anywho, so yeah, flat tire and no spare. Naturally, we hike it to try to find some help, but the weather kind've picks up, and the clothes that we have, while appropriate for the cold, aren't adequate enough for a full blown blizzard. No worries though, because guess who comes to the rescue? This guy!

Everybody, this is Crowe. Crowe, this is everybody.

As you'd expect (I know I keep saying that, but lmao it's not a overly predictable game, I swear!), Crowe is this really chill dude. Actually, more than a chill dude, he's a massive nature nerd. That's actually why he's out in the middle of the woods anyways! Like I mentioned before, he's researching why nature be naturing, specifically -- at least, his current topic from the way it was worded is -- partial migration. If you've never heard of that, don't even worry about it, in the game he explains it to us. Like, I'm telling you. This man is super into this stuff, and we love a smart man.

Getting away from that though, he basically ends up telling us that the town that we're in is pretty much deserted with the exception of like 13 other people, and because of the blizzard, the time it'd take to clean the roads, the likelihood of there being another blizzard right behind the one that just happened, and cleaning up after that blizzard, getting to our planned destination just wasn't going to happen. ...Well, shit.

What are we going to do then? Our car has a flat, we can't travel, and there's not any resorts nearby. No worries though, because the bae came through! He said "Oh, you can just stay with me!" Oh wooooooord???

So guess what we do? Make ourselves cozy in this bomb ass cabin. I'm not even exaggerating about that. Like, this cabin is REALLY nice! Take a peek!

That's just our room and the hallway. You can only imagine how bomb the rest of the place looks. Like, I'm telling y'all, it's super cozy up in here. But we must stay focused! And by we, I mean me, because I could go on and on about how nice this cabin looks.

Back to the topic at hand though, we've agreed to stay with Crowe, even though, we honestly don't have much of a choice, but it was just dope that Crowe was cool with everything. That being said, during our stay, we do all kinds of pretty cool stuff! We go foraging with him for chaga mushrooms and winterberries, we create some powders to add to other stuff, and we make some medicines. Everything was going super smoothly ... until it wasn't.

Crowe kind've has...a weird temper. Like, we had accidentally gotten hurt, and he had gotten super pissed about it. We love a man that cares about his guest, but he was a bit overdramatic about it. You'd think we would've lost a limb or something. The main thing that got him really pissed, though, was when we had mentioned our car and implied leaving. He did not like that, and when I say we got into it bad? Oh, the insults were flying. Like, look at this!

So, yeah, we fought, and what about it? It's whatever. Forget him...

...Actually, we felt really bad about the whole thing, and so did he. We talked it out, and everything was all good again; however, now he's acting really weird, we're getting really suspicious, and we still have to get home. That being said, we call it an early night, borrow one of his books, and pretty much make a gameplan so we can figure out how to get home as well as what the hell is going on that is not only making Crowe act weird, but what is going on in general.

And we do! We sneak out the next morning and ... we actually make things worse because now, we're REALLY confused. I'm not going to get into the details, but just know that there are more questions than answers at this point. So, yeah, while the investigating helped, it only helped a little, and I genuinely mean only a little.

One thing that we know for sure though...

This man is definitely crazy in love with us.

And that's all I'm going to tell you! Lol I'm sorry! But if I tell you the rest, it'll literally be the ending, and it'll ruin it! You know how much I want you guys to play it, so no way am I going to spill the details, but like most visual novels, how it ends is completely up to the choices that you make.

Guys...the full game delivered.

I prefer choice heavy visual novels like Darling Duality and Forcefully Yours, but this still wasn't bad by any means. I actually thought it was quite good! Like I said, the most shocking thing to me about all of this is that this man is deadass a scientist! Like, he really isn't doing anything entirely sketchy out there! That was the biggest plot twist of the century to me! But, anyways, letting go of that. Let me tell you more of my thoughts on the game, and why I feel like you should play it whenever you get the chance.

The visuals are absolutely stunning, first and foremost. So far, my favorite VN visual wise has been Mushroom Oasis, but this is definitely a solid number 2 spot. I absolutely adore the art style. I also appreciate the revamp that they did with Crowe. There is nothing wrong with femboys by any means, but to me, Crowe was a little girly looking, and he very much so looked like a small child lol. Like look at the difference in this.

This is the old Crowe Lynn

And this is the new Crowe Lynn

Lol you see what I mean? He looked like a child that wanted to be a scientist when he grew up versus the actual adult him that chose science as a profession. The redesign was definitely a good choice, and I love how he looks now, especially with the longer hair and worn out lab coat. What do you think, though? Which did you prefer?

Aside from that though, you know what one of my favorite things about the game was? The fact that -- and listen close, because this is about to be a tip! -- the endings that you get are based more on how the character feels about Crowe versus how Crowe feels about us. How curious is that?

In a majority of visual novels, the endings are literally dependent on how far we push the LI or their affinity for us, but it's not like that in this one. We get a different ending based on if we trust him or not, if we flirt back with him or ignore his remarks, and some other factors that I don't want to include and possible spoil the story. I just thought that was a really interesting take, and that was super creative of the developer. It was definitely refreshing to play as more of myself and base the gameplay on my -- or rather my character's -- feelings versus playing for the LI and his feelings.

With all that in mind, I definitely say give this game a go! It has a nice mystery/suspense to it, and not to mention, there is a really bomb song during the credits. I was so sad to see that it was not on Spotify! Well, let me clarify, it IS, but it's not available to me which sucks ass. It's not even on YouTube, and it hurts me so bad! Ugh!

Anyways, in case my feelings and opinions weren't clear -- play this game, play this game, play this game, play this game! As always, be sure to leave your comments on the dev's page if you feel like they've done a good job, and you want to give them that extra reassurance to keep making games. Of course, donations are always helpful to them as well! Like mentioned at the very top, here is a link to the game so that you can play it for yourself, and I really want you to play it for yourself!

That's all from me! Drink water, don't be dumb, and hope to see you around~!

Where Winter Crows Go

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hearts-hunger · 1 year

Text

four weddings and a funeral — part five

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Series Playlist

⮡part one | part two | part three | part four

Series Summary: You and Danny haven’t spoken in years. When the two of you stumble upon a week of weddings, funerals, and the hotel rooms in between, will fate rekindle your friendship or put the old flames out altogether?

Chapter Summary: Danny's leaving tomorrow. You still have another wedding to go to, but can you bear to be so close to him knowing it's your last night together?

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Reader, Sam x Birdie | Genres: friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, mutual pining, angst | Word Count: 8.5k (yikes) | Chapter Warnings: drinking

A/N: Danny and Sunshine are back in the house!! This chapter's kinda long, but I think it's really cute and emotional - I hope you enjoy all the twists and turns! ♡

You woke in a tangle of sheets to a pounding headache.

It took you a minute to get your bearings; the sun was shining through the breezy curtains, bright and pretty but also kind of painful. You were still in your dress, but your jewelry had been taken off; a cautious touch to your face revealed that your makeup had been cleaned off too.

You turned your face away from the sunlight and found Danny close, his expression relaxed in sleep, his curls mussed and soft.

“Danny,” you said softly.

He gave a sleepy hum. “Wassa matter, sunny?” The hand that was resting on your hip pulled you closer, and it made you realize that your leg was hooked over his thigh.

You felt yourself blush at how close you were to him, how warm and steady he was beside you. You didn’t dare move, afraid to wake him and make him realize for fear he would pull away, afraid to pull away yourself if he wanted you close.

His eyes fluttered open when you didn’t answer. “You okay?”

His voice was gravelly and warm, and you hid your face against his chest to keep him from seeing how flustered it made you.

He chuckled. “What’s wrong, sunshine? You don’t feel good?”

You shook your head. “Headache.” Your stomach also felt like a butterfly rave, but that might have been more from the way he still hadn’t pulled away from you than from your hangover.

He hummed in agreement. “Me too. Maybe we should take it easy at the wedding tonight.”

“Oh!” You’d completely forgotten about your flight back home and the wedding only a few hours after you landed. “What time is it?”

He groaned a little as he turned to grab his phone from the nightstand. “Early, still. I set an alarm so we wouldn’t be late to the airport, and it hasn’t gone off yet.”

You relaxed then, thankful he’d seemingly taken care of everything when you’d been out of commission last night. He turned back to you again, making to pull you close; you wanted to rest against him and get a little bit more sleep, but your headache wouldn’t leave you be, and you were restless.

Danny noticed. “Let me get you some tylenol,” he offered, untangling himself from you and the sheets as gently as possible. “Be right back.”

He came back from the bathroom with his water bottle and some medicine. “Sit up, honey.”

You did, letting yourself enjoy the pet name, and took the medicine before handing him his water bottle so he could take a dose too. He tied his hair up in a messy bun, his faded band tee riding up over the hem of his shorts, and you blushed as you looked away.

“Here,” he said, handing you his water bottle back. “You gotta hydrate.”

You did as he said, pulling a little at the sleeves of your dress that were rubbing uncomfortably over your shoulders. You must have gotten more sun yesterday than you thought.

He gave you a sympathetic wince. “Yeah, I didn’t know if I should get you into pajamas last night, so I erred on the side of caution. I’m sorry you’re uncomfortable.”

He rummaged in his bag until he pulled out one of his huge, soft t-shirts. “Try this. It’ll be loose enough on you that it won’t bother your sunburn, hopefully.”

“Thank you,” you said, catching it when he tossed it to you. You gave him a teasing smile. “Are you sure you trust me with more of your clothes? I still haven’t returned your jacket from the funeral, remember?”

He smiled. “It’s all a part of my master plan,” he said. “The more clothes you steal, the more reasons I’ll have to see you after this wedding tonight.”

You felt a mix of emotions at that. You were thrilled that he wanted to keep seeing you, but you were also reminded that the wedding tonight was the last concrete plan you had to see each other. After tonight, what would realistically be enough to keep him from jetting back off to his fancy rockstar life without you?

You decided to set that thought aside for later, determined to enjoy what could very well be the last of your time with Danny.

“It’s a good plan,” you agreed. “I just think you better count on not getting any of these clothes back.”

He laughed. “I’m not that worried about it, sunny. I think it’s a fair trade, don’t you?”

A car ride, a plane ride, and another car ride later, you were standing blearily in front of the mirror in your bedroom, freshly showered, wondering how on earth you were going to make yourself presentable in less than two hours. This next wedding was sure to be filled with Danny’s swanky, rich, fashionable friends, and at the moment, you looked like you’d been run over by a truck.

Your phone buzzed with a text from Danny.

Text me what you want from Starbucks, the message read. I’ll be over around 6 to pick you up.

You smiled to yourself. You’d fallen back asleep on the plane, and he’d been very patient with you as he handled your bags, his bags, and your still very sleepy state in the airport after you landed. You sent him a message back and tossed your phone on the bed, gearing yourself up for a deep-dive into your closet for something to wear.

—

“That’s it! I’m not going.”

Danny frowned as you came out of your bathroom, looking you over head to toe with a thoughtful gaze.

“Why not?” he asked. “That’s a cute outfit.”

You cringed. “It’s not cute, Danny. It’s possibly the worst wardrobe choice I’ve ever made in my life.”

He smiled. “Dramatic, much?”

You huffed and went back into the bathroom to try on the next outfit, starting to get a little panicked about time and trying to prevent a major meltdown over getting ready. Since he’d gotten to your apartment, Danny had been patiently sitting on the edge of your bed; he hadn’t breathed a word of complaint as you tried on practically your entire closet in an effort to find something to wear, and he hadn’t even felt the need to remind you that both of you were going to be late if you didn’t hurry. He had also given you sweet, heartfelt compliments on every outfit right before you decided you hated it, and then he’d hung every discarded article of clothing neatly back in your closet. You almost didn’t know how to interact with a man who did things like that.

You decided not to read too much into it, though, not least because you were overwhelmed with the simple task of finding something halfway decent to wear. You slipped on the last dress you had, hoping you wouldn’t instantly hate it as soon as you looked in the mirror; it was a gauzy, fluffy thing in shades of pink and champagne, and you were surprised at how pretty you felt when you looked in the mirror.

Danny’s eyes widened when you came out to show him.

“Woah,” he said, looking a little like he’d taken a blow to the head. “That’s... uh, you look really pretty in that, sunny.”

You blushed and gave him a bashful smile. “This is the one, then?”

He nodded, still kind of dazed and dreamy. “Please don’t change out of that one.”

You laughed, amused and pleased at his request. “Okay.”

He came into the bathroom with you as you put the finishing touches on your look, watching you in the mirror for a minute as you put on dangly gold earrings and a shimmery lip gloss.

“Should I wear a different necklace?” he asked, brushing his fingers across the strings of pearls that rested over his black turtleneck. “I don’t match you with these.”

“No, keep them,” you said, a little embarrassed at how quickly you’d said it. There was something about a man as tall and broad as Danny was wearing something so pretty. “I... I like them. Keep them.”

He smiled. “Okay. I’ll keep them.”

You both spent a few more moments getting ready, adding glamorous touches to the soft beachy glow you both had from the wedding yesterday. You noticed that he looked at his watch, but he still didn’t hurry you along, and you were grateful for his patience.

“Okay,” you said briskly, taking one last look in the mirror. “Good?”

He smiled. “Good.”

He ushered you out to his car and opened the door for you, making sure all the fluffy tulle from your dress was safely out of the way before he closed it.

“Music?” he asked as he got in, handing you his phone. “The code’s 5480.”

“Oh,” you said, a little surprised that he’d just handed it over. “Uh, sure. What do you want to listen to?”

He put his hand on your headrest as he backed out of your driveway. “You pick.”

You tried to think of what to put on, a little distracted by the heady scent of his warm and woodsy cologne. You looked over at him for approval when you put on “The Boy with a Moon and Star on His Head,” and you were pleased when he smiled.

“I wonder what our stick figure couple is getting up to these days,” he said, as if you hadn’t just made them start a band last night.

“I guess we’ll have to see what this wedding brings,” you said. You were about to set his phone aside when a text popped up on the screen from someone named Emma, and you couldn’t help but skim it.

Can’t wait to see you tomorrow! it read, complete with a kissy face on the end.

You sucked in a breath. You felt bad for having read it, but all of a sudden, it felt like somebody had your heart in a vise grip. You locked his phone and set it in the cup holder, willing yourself to forget you’d even seen it.

Neither of you talked much on the drive to the wedding; Danny hummed along to the Cat Stevens playlist, and you looked out the window and tried not to think about Emma who couldn’t wait to see him tomorrow. You shouldn’t even know about it, let alone catastrophize because of it; it wasn’t your business who he texted or who texted him, kissy faces or not. He’d made no commitment to you or even hinted at making one. Danny was free to see anyone, anytime, for any reason. You had absolutely no right to be upset about it.

That didn’t stop it from hurting, though. You glanced over at him, watched him drum on the steering wheel in perfect time with the song. He looked over at you and smiled, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“How’s it going, sunny?” he asked. “Feeling down to clown tonight?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “You know me. I’m always ready to party.”

With a monumental effort, you pushed the thought of the text aside and promised yourself you’d have one last night of good memories with Danny. You felt a little nervous, though, as he pulled into the venue’s parking lot; you fidgeted with your sun necklace, the one you’d yet to take off since Danny had given it to you, and looked wide-eyed at the people milling around outside the place. It must have cost a pretty penny to rent it out, and you weren’t surprised by the lavish display of wealth in the guests that stood outside. All of a sudden, you felt just how “small-town” you were compared to everyone else there, including Danny.

He pulled into one of the last spots and turned the car off, sitting with you for a moment.

“Don’t be nervous,” he said.

You weren’t surprised that he’d noticed. You tried to stop fidgeting with your necklace and smoothed your hands over your skirt instead.

“Sure,” you said. “I’ll just waltz in there with all your fancy friends and feel totally cool and confident.”

He smiled. “You should,” he said easily. “You look beautiful, you’re smarter than anybody in there, and you’ve got me.”

You breathed a laugh. His presence would help more than he knew, and you planned to stick by him the entire time.

He offered his hand, and you smacked your palm against his.

“We got this,” he said.

You squeezed his hand. “We got this.”

He only let go of your hand long enough for both of you to get out of the car, and then you looped your arm around his and pressed close to his side.

“Please don’t try to introduce me to anybody,” you said.

Danny smiled as he looked over at you, amused and sympathetic as you tightened your grip on his arm.

“I only have two people I want to introduce you to,” he said. Before you could protest, he added, “I promise you’ll like them.”

You could tell it meant a lot to him that you at least spoke to these friends, and though you dreaded the thought of small talk with complete strangers, you would do it for Danny.

“But only those two, right?” you asked.

“Right,” he agreed. He gave you a teasing smile then. “Let me know if you change your mind, though. There’s plenty of people here to awkwardly introduce yourself to. Just say the word and I’ll make it happen.”

You hid your face against his shoulder. “No way. That sounds so horrible.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, sunny. I wouldn’t be so cruel to you.” He patted your hand where it rested in the crook of his arm. “Besides, I barely know anybody here myself.”

You looked up at him as you came inside the venue, content to let him find your spots for the ceremony.

“What are you talking about?” you said. “I thought this was one of your good friends who was getting married.”

He shrugged, a little distracted as he looked around the venue but still paying attention to you.

“He is, but I don’t really know any of his other friends.” He took a tastefully sleek program from one of the ushers. “He and his wife — well, almost wife — hang out with really artsy, fashionable people. I always feel kind of clumsy and awkward around them.”

You smiled. You could see how Danny might feel like a bull in a china shop sometimes, but you thought it was endearing.

“You don’t think you’re artsy and fashionable?” you asked.

Danny huffed a laugh. “No.” He caught sight of someone on the opposite end of the room and waved, a handsome smile lighting his face.

“I’ll show you somebody who definitely thinks he is, though,” he said. “And you’ll have to decide if his style is as goofy as I think it is.”

You bucked up your courage as Danny led you through the crowd, trying to guess which of these swanky wedding guests he was going to subject you to meeting. Maybe it was the guy in the bejeweled sweater vest, or the lady with the obscenely high heels. Maybe it was —

“Oh, shut up.”

Danny looked over at you. “What?”

You smacked a hand against his chest.

“Ow!” he laughed. “What was that for?”

“Hello!” you said, gesturing to the guy in a flowy red suit and sunglasses. “ That’s the friend you’re introducing me to? Freakin’... Sam Kiszka?”

Danny grinned. “I thought you said you weren’t a Greta Van Fleet fangirl.”

“They’re called gresties, Daniel,” you informed him, intentionally not telling him that you’d started to talk to other fans on Tumblr since the funeral. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that.”

“Gresties?” he repeated. “Like... what? Greta Van Fleet besties?”

“Exactly.”

He laughed out loud. “Hey, that’s pretty good. Gresties. I like that.” He took your hand. “Let’s go tell Sam about the gresties. He’ll love to hear that.”

You hesitated, still a little nervous. Sam was watching the two of you with interest, leaning to talk to the pretty girl who stood with him, undoubtedly talking about you.

“Hey, sunny.”

You tore your gaze from Sam, looking up at Danny as he squeezed your hand. “Yes?”

He gave you a sweet smile.

“Don’t be nervous,” he reminded you. “It’s just Sam. He’s not as cool as you think he is.”

You managed a hesitant smile back. “That’s easy for you to say. You know him.”

“I want you to know him too,” Danny said sincerely. “Trust me. He’s gonna love you.”

You took a deep breath. “I must like you or something,” you muttered.

Danny grinned. “I like you too, sunny, so I guess that works out nicely.”

He held your hand as you went to meet Sam, and you tried not to let your nerves get the better of you. It made you feel better to see that the girl by Sam’s side looked a little shy too, and the two of you exchanged nervous and excited smiles even as you both sort of hid behind your guys.

Danny put a comforting hand to your back. “Sam, birdie — this is sunny.”

Sam pushed his sunglasses up into his hair and gave you a charmingly boyish grin.

“Nice to meet you, sunny,” he said. “I know we probably met a few times in middle school, but that doesn’t really count.”

You gave him a bashful smile back, still a little starstruck that you were meeting Sam Kiszka.

“Well, it’s good to meet you in a way that counts,” you said, and you earned a smile. “I know this is kind of lame to say, but... I’m a big fan of your music.”

“Not lame at all,” he assured you seriously. “I love to have my ego boosted.”

You laughed, and Sam’s girlfriend rolled her eyes, fondly exasperated and drawing confidence from her boyfriend’s humor.

“He’s not kidding,” she said, affection in her voice. She gave you a smile. “It’s wonderful to meet you, sunny. I’m birdie. And I promise I’m absolutely normal.”

You laughed. “Sweet. I love normal people.”

Sam looked at her with an amused gaze. “What do you mean, you’re absolutely normal? As if I’m not?”

“You are a famous rock star,” she reminded him. “I’m still a small town girl, so I’m less intimidating. I hope.”

“It does make you less intimidating,” you admitted. “I love your dress, by the way.”

She touched a hand to the shimmery rust-colored cocktail dress she wore.

“Oh, thank you! I haven’t had a chance to wear it yet, so this is the trial run.” She put her hand on her hip and posed next to Sam, even though he was talking with Danny.

“You don’t think we clash, do you?” she asked you.

Sam noticed she was posing and immediately posed too, obviously a natural ham. “Where’s the photographer, sweetheart?”

“I’m letting sunny judge our outfits,” she said. “Danny too.”

Danny tilted his head, seeming to take the task seriously. “Looks good. What’s wrong with them?”

“Well, we’re in the same color family,” she said. “I couldn’t decide if it was a good move or a fashion nightmare. What do you think, sunny?”

You smiled and shook your head. “No, I think you look great together.” Side by side, their reds, rusts, and golds gave a warm and inviting aura of a confident, lovely couple, one you wanted to get to know better.

“See?” Sam said. “You worry too much, birdie. You know you’re pretty enough for both of us, no matter what we wear.”

She gave him a slightly bashful smile, pleased with his compliment. “Thanks, honey.”

He gave her cheek a big, goofy kiss, and she giggled and pushed him away. Your chest felt a little tight at the display, endeared at their affection for each other and wishing you had someone to share such tenderness with.

Danny took your hand again, and your breath caught a little.

“Come on, lovebirds,” Danny teased his friends. “Let’s go find our spots.”

You got settled in one of the middle rows, and Danny and Sam fell into conversation almost immediately. You enjoyed listening to them talk and laugh together; their friendship seemed so natural and close-knit, and Birdie was obviously a good friend of Danny’s too.

They tried to include you in their conversation, and you were thankful for their kindness, but you were too distracted to really engage with them.

“Oh, sunny!”

You looked over at Danny, wondering what could have gotten him so excited. You smiled just because he was.

“What?” you asked.

“I totally forgot I brought you a present,” he said, reaching into the inside pocket of his blazer. “I didn’t know if it would go with what you were wearing, but I figured you might want to try it.”

He pulled out a beautiful pearl ring, one that matched the string of pearls he wore. He held it in his palm and offered it to you, and for a moment, you couldn’t think of anything to say.

“You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to,” he said, his voice unsure, his fingers closing reflexively over it. “I just thought you might — ”

“No, I do,” you said quickly, reaching out to take it from him. Your throat felt tight when you took the ring from his big, warm palm and his fingers traced over yours.

“It’s beautiful,” you said softly. “I was just surprised.”

“Why?” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Pretty things should be worn by pretty girls.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and tried not to cry. It was so stupid — it was just a little gift, a bit of jewelry he’d let you wear. It didn’t mean anything. You wondered almost absently if he’d ever given jewelry to Emma, the girl who’d texted him in the car.

“I think it should fit you,” he said. “It’s a little small for my big strong drummer hands.”

You managed a wobbly smile as you put it on the middle finger of your left hand. One more finger over, and...

You held your hand up for Danny to see. “How does it look?”

He smiled and took your hand in his, brushing his thumb over the surface of the pearl.

“Beautiful,” he said. “Just like you, sunny.”

You looked over at him. “And now we match,” you said, trying for lightheartedness when all you felt like doing was crying or kissing him.

He grinned. “As we should.”

You couldn’t tear your gaze away from him. He was beautiful in the orange and gold light of sunset coming through the high windows, all warm and sweet and genuine as he smiled at you. All of a sudden, the uncertainty and the longing and the awful fear caught up to you — Danny was going home tomorrow, and despite his reassurances that he wanted to see you again, you knew you’d be left with nothing but a ring on the wrong finger and the pieces of your heart in your hands.

His brow knit with worry as he looked at you, and you knew you weren’t hiding your feelings as well as you wanted to.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

You didn’t know what you should say, or if you should even say anything at all. “Danny, I — ”

Music started to play, cutting off your quiet plea and drawing everyone’s attention to the back of the hall. You and Danny stood with everyone else, but he didn’t take his eyes off of you.

You shook your head, trying to tell him it was fine, that he didn’t need to worry.

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t say anything; after a moment, he held out his hand, wanting to comfort you without even knowing what was wrong.

You felt the sting of tears and blinked them back. You took his hand and let yourself be comforted by his touch, even though you knew it would be better to get used to being without him.

He held your hand through the ceremony, and you watched his face with an ache of loneliness as his friends exchanged their vows. Even though you knew how unreasonable it was to care for him so deeply after only a few days, you couldn’t deny what you felt; you’d love him forever, together or not, and the pain of losing him had already started while he was still holding your hand.

You barely registered the end of the wedding. You thought you heard Danny tell Sam and Birdie that you’d catch up to them at the reception, and then Danny put his hand to your cheek.

“Hey,” he said gently. His eyes were impossibly kind as he studied your face.

“Hey, yourself,” you said.

He brushed his thumb over your cheek. “What’s wrong, sunny? Do you feel okay? You want to go home?”

You shook your head. “I feel fine. I want to stay.”

“Are you sure? We don’t have to. Maybe you’re ready for a break.”

“A break?” you said bleakly. A break from what? It wouldn’t be a break; it would be the end, and you wouldn’t hurry it along any faster than it was already coming.

You looked up at him and managed a smile.

“I’m okay, Danny, really.” You put your hand over his. “Let’s go drink and dance and have a grand old time.”

He looked a little doubtful, but he didn’t press. He took your hand as you walked together to the reception in the next wing of the venue.

“But you let me know if you want to leave, okay?” he said. “You promise?”

You nodded, knowing you wouldn’t. “I promise.”

The reception was slated to go all night, and for all of their classiness, the guests certainly knew how to party. You lost yourself a little bit in the booze and the dancing, sticking with Danny and Sam and Birdie as you moved from the bar to the dance floor and back again.

“Hey!” Birdie said, tugging on Sam’s hand. “There’s no line for the photo booth if we go right this very second.”

He followed her happily, and you and Danny went too. You let Sam and Birdie go first, grinning to each other at the sounds of bubbly laughter from behind the curtain, and weren’t surprised when Sam stepped out with his face covered in lipstick kisses.

Danny laughed. “You look like you’re in a cartoon, Sam.”

Sam beamed as he got their pictures, happy as could be when his girl took his hand and to lead him onto the dance floor again. “Some cartoon, huh!”

Danny held the curtain back for you. “Shall we?”

The two of you tried to squish together in the little booth, both of you laughing and tipsy and flushed. One of you must have accidentally pushed the button, because you heard it counting down to your first picture.

“Hurry!” you said, both of you laughing breathlessly as you tried to get into place before the shutter sound. You tripped over Danny’s feet and grabbed onto his shoulder to keep from careening out of the booth; to the same end, he took you by the waist and plunked you down on his lap.

“Settle down now,” he said, trying to be stern but unable to keep up the act as you started to giggle. He smiled up at you, laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes, flashing those little fangs you loved so much; he looked at you like you’d hung the moon, and as you cradled his face in your hands, you felt the fragile part of your heart finally crack in two.

“What is it?” he asked gently.

I’m dying of love for you, Danny. “Nothing.”

You moved your hands and leaned your head against his. “Let’s get one picture where we’re actually looking at the camera.”

He squeezed you tight as the last photo counted down. “Big smile!”

When you got your strip of photos, you almost couldn’t bear to look at them. The joy you felt at being with him was captured there in black and white — a blurry picture of your laughing attempts to fit in the booth, the surprise on your face and the grin on his when he’d put you on his lap, the tenderness in your expression when you’d touched his face, both of your big smiles when you pressed as close as you could get to each other. You swallowed past the tightness in your throat and handed the strip to Danny.

“You don’t want them?” he asked.

“No, I — ” You cleared your throat. “Um, I don’t have anywhere to keep them. Will you hold on to them for me?”

“Oh. Sure.” He tucked them in the inside pocket of his jacket. “Where to next, sunshine?”

“The bar,” you said. You needed another drink. You needed a whole bottle.

He followed you without complaint, and when you got another round of drinks, you hardly tasted yours. You felt caught somewhere between giddiness and a terrible urge to cry, hysterical and drunk and just barely able to keep from telling Danny Wagner in front of god and everybody that you were in love with him.

“We should dance,” you said, needing an outlet for the jittery, anxious pressure building in your chest.

Danny didn’t move from where he’d leaned up against the counter, watching you with an amused smile.

“Where do you get all this energy from, sunny?” he asked.

You took another sip of your drink, feeling so keyed-up you thought you might go crazy. Didn’t he feel anything between you? You thought you would suffocate if you didn’t get out from under the weight of how much you wanted him.

Your hands fluttering nervously like the wings of a bird, you reached for him.

“Come on,” you said, and the words had barely gotten out of your mouth before somebody knocked into you from behind, sending you straight into Danny’s arms.

“Woah, hold on,” he said, hurrying to catch you even as your drink sloshed over the sleeve of his jacket and the front of your dress.

You heard a heartfelt apology from behind you, and then Danny’s assurance that you were both fine.

“Right?” he asked you, still holding your arms to make sure you were steady. “You’re good, sunny?”

You couldn’t answer, suddenly overcome with tears, trying in vain to clean his sleeve off even though it was soaked.

“Sunny?” he said again, a little worried this time. He ducked his head to see your face. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” you said miserably, “but your jacket — I’m sorry, Danny.”

He glanced over at the sleeve you were trying to fix as if he’d only just noticed it. “My jacket?” he said. “Sunny, I’m not worried about my jacket. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you lied. You didn’t know why this had been the final straw, but all of a sudden you were overwhelmed with everything, exhausted and completely overcome.

“I’m s-sorry I spilled my stupid drink on you, Danny,” you all but sobbed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey.” He took your now-empty glass from you and set it on the bar, then framed your face with his big hands and made you look at him. He was searching your face with such worry, and your expression crumpled like a little girl’s.

“Sunshine,” he said, at a loss, unsure why this had upset you so badly. “Please don’t cry, honey. It’s really not a big deal. I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re not?”

He looked so bewildered you felt a slash of pity for him. “Of course I’m not. It was an accident, and it wasn’t even your fault.” He drew back just enough to look you over. “Oh, and you got the worst of it, too. You’re soaked, honey.”

You hadn’t even noticed. You looked down at the front of your pretty dress and saw it was dark and splotchy.

“Now, you don’t have to cry about that either,” Danny said quickly, a little panicked as he tried to avert another crisis. “I don’t think it’ll stain, but we’ll rinse it out just to make sure. Come on.”

You looked up at him, trying to catch your breath and stop crying. “Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer for a moment, looking around for something at the bar; he grabbed a few napkins and did his best to wipe the tears from your face.

“I gotta start wearing a pocket square,” he said under his breath, gently blotting the napkins against your cheeks.

You couldn’t help the watery laugh that escaped you. “Why, so you can get my mascara all over it?”

He gave you a gentle smile. “No, so I can have something soft for you when you cry.”

That almost started you crying again, but you managed to stop after only a few tears had streaked down your cheeks.

“Okay, sunshine,” he said tenderly. “Let’s go up to my room so we can get you cleaned up.”

“You’re staying here?” you asked. You didn’t know the venue had a hotel too, but you were glad you didn’t have to travel anywhere in your wet dress.

He hummed in agreement and took your hand. “Come on, sunny.”

You followed his lead, content to let him find a path through the carousing guests; you didn’t meet Sam and Birdie on the way, but you saw that Danny sent them a text to let them know you were headed upstairs.

It was much quieter when you got out of the reception hall, and you were thankful for it even though your ears were still ringing with the music. You leaned against Danny in the elevator, holding tight to his hand; you still felt fragile, like you were liable to shatter to pieces at any moment. Danny gave your hand a reassuring squeeze every once in a while as you made your way to his room.

Inside, Danny left you for a moment to turn on the bathroom light.

“Is that too much?” he asked when he came back to your side. “I think I’m a little overstimulated. I figured you’re probably feeling that way too.”

You nodded, sure he was right. “That light’s fine,” you said meekly. “Thank you.”

He hovered for a moment, seemingly unsure what to do to help.

“Let me get you something to change into,” he said, going to search through his luggage. “Yeah. That seems like the smart thing to do.”

You watched him with an incredible ache of tenderness, not sure why any man would care for you so selflessly, not sure anything in the world could keep from tying your heart to his for as long as you lived.

“Here,” he said, handing you a stack of neatly folded clothes. “I don’t think I have any bottoms that would fit you, but...”

“I have biker shorts under my dress,” you said.

“Oh,” he said. He looked less sure of himself than he ever had. “Well, good. You can pick whatever you want out of that to wear, and if you want something else, just let me know.”

“Thank you.” You hesitated before you turned to head for the bathroom. “Um, Danny?”

“Yeah?”

You felt shy to ask, for some reason. “Could you unzip my dress? I can’t, um...”

“Of course,” he said, and you felt that his hands were shaking when he brushed your hair over your shoulder and pulled the zipper down.

“Thank you,” you said again. You turned to face him; for a moment, in the quiet darkness of his room, there was nothing in the world but you two and the few inches of space between.

You shook yourself. If you’d stood there a moment longer, you’d have done something that couldn’t be taken back, and you couldn’t decide if it was wise or incredibly foolish to have let the moment pass.

“Right,” you said, flustered, raw with emotion. “Um, thanks. Again.”

You fled into the relative safety of the bathroom, kicking yourself for being so awkward, so girlish, so in love with him it made you act like an idiot. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror; you were a wreck, makeup smudged and tear-streaked, dress soaked and bedraggled. You winced.

When you’d rinsed your dress in the sink and hung it over the shower curtain, you washed your face and dressed in Danny’s clothes. He’d given you a t-shirt and a soft fair isle sweater and a pair of black socks way too big for you. You wore them anyway, the heel part coming to the bottom of your calf, and felt much more relaxed in his comfortable clothes that smelled like him.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed when you came out, his jacket discarded over the back of a chair but otherwise still dressed in his wedding outfit. He looked as tense as you’d felt downstairs, and you wondered what was bothering him.

His phone lit up with a text where he’d set it on the bed. He quickly turned it off.

Oh. You felt kind of numb to it now. Maybe it was Emma again, or maybe it was some other girl who couldn’t wait to see him when he was done having to take care of you.

He gave you a weak smile. “Feel better?”

You nodded and scrubbed your face with the too-long sleeves of his sweater, tired and starting to sober up. “A little. Do you have a hair tie?”

He took one off his wrist. “Come here.”

You did, not entirely sure why, standing between his knees like you’d be able to handle it. He gathered your hair with gentle brushes of his fingers, but he couldn’t get the angle he wanted; he stood and towered over you again, and for all your numbness, you could no more keep from hugging him than you could keep the stars from shining.

He breathed a laugh. “You okay?”

You nodded against him, hugging him tighter. You felt tears start again and valiantly managed to keep them from falling.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said.

He finished putting your hair up and hugged you to him, running a soothing hand over your back. “You’re welcome, sunny. It’s my pleasure.”

As much as you wanted to stay close and let him comfort you, you made yourself pull back from him. You took a deep, shaky breath; it was time to rip the band-aid off, and you promised yourself you wouldn’t cry.

“If you’ll take me home,” you said, “I’ll change out of these clothes and get the other things I borrowed. That way you don’t have to make another trip tomorrow.”

He blinked. “Uh... I mean, of course I’ll take you home if you’re ready to leave. But I don’t mind coming by tomorrow. My flight’s not until later.”

You shook your head, wishing he wouldn’t drag it out any longer. “That’s okay. It’ll save you the trouble.”

His phone buzzed again, but he ignored it.

“It’s no trouble,” he insisted. “I thought we... I don’t know, that we might go for that coffee date we keep talking about.”

You’d forgotten about that. You’d been too busy daydreaming about your fiftieth coffee date to remember that you hadn’t even had one.

“Danny, I...” Your throat felt tight again, close to crying. You didn’t want him to think he owed you some consolation prize; he could just go, and these last few days would be nothing but a fond memory. “We don’t have to.... You don’t have to...”

His hopeful expression shuttered into one of resignation and something like hurt.

“You don’t want to,” he said, and it was a statement, not a question.

You couldn’t think of how to tell him that going on a stupid coffee date with him was the most important thing in the world to you, that it meant so much more to you than just one date. His phone lit up with a text, again, and the tangle of hurt and fear and longing in your chest finally burst apart.

“Why don’t you answer her?” you asked, gesturing to his phone. “She’s obviously trying to get in touch with you.”

He frowned. “Who?” He looked behind him to where you’d gestured and saw only his phone.

“Is it Emma?” you asked, knowing it was bitter and petty to bring it up, but you were unable or unwilling to bite your tongue any longer. “Or is it some other girl waiting for you as soon as you finally get rid of me?”

He looked at you with utter bewilderment and a hint of frustration. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “There’s not any other girls, and I’m not trying to get rid of you.”

Another text. You felt lightheaded.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” you snapped. “She’s ringing your phone off the hook, Danny. She has been since she told you she ‘can’t wait to see you tomorrow’.”

He didn’t say anything, and there was a storm of emotion in his expression that you couldn’t quite make out. Anger, confusion, anxiety, embarrassment — you were surprised to see each one in the flash of his dark eyes and the tight set of his jaw.

He picked up his phone and handed it to you. “Read the texts.”

“She doesn’t want me, Danny.”

“Read. The. Texts.”

You took his phone, startled into obedience by his tone. You saw the texts were from Sam, not from Emma or some other girl, and immediately felt guilty.

“Never mind,” you said, trying to hand his phone back. “I don’t — I’m sorry, I — ”

“No, go ahead.” His voice was low. “Read them, sunny. Since you’re so sure you’ve got me all figured out.”

You looked helplessly at the screen, skimming dozens of texts between him and Sam. Your gaze snagged on one phrase, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

I love her. It was right there in front of you, a message from the boy you loved to his best friend. I love her. I don’t know if I should tell her.

You looked up at him, afraid to ask if it was real. “What is this?”

He gave you an incredulous look. “What do you mean, ‘what is this’?” he said. “What does it look like, sunny?”

You looked back down at the texts.

Tell her!!! Sam had replied. Birdies says you should too.

It’s not crazy?? Danny had sent back. We haven’t even kissed! No way. It’s insane. I can’t tell her.

Come on man, Sam said. When you know you know. Tell her tonight. Don’t wait.

Danny hadn’t sent anything back after that. You guessed that had been when you’d walked in, and the messages you’d been so bothered by had been Sam pestering Danny for an update.

Suddenly the messages blurred in a wash of tears, and you pushed his phone back into his hands and covered your face.

He sighed. “Sunny...” He sat on the edge of the bed. “Look, this doesn’t have to be a whole thing. I’m sorry I lost my temper and made you read those texts. I’ll drive you home, and then you never have to see me again.”

You looked up, awash with tears. “You don’t want to see me again?”

He looked stricken at your voice. “No! I mean, yes! I mean...” He held his hands out to you, helpless, pleading. “Of course I want to see you again. I want to see you every single day for the rest of my life because I love you, sunny. But now you’re crying again, and I have no idea how you feel about me saying that, and — oof!”

He grunted a little as you all but threw yourself into his arms, surprised but still steady as he caught you against him.

“What is this?” he asked, repeating your question from earlier.

You pulled back just enough to look at his face. His expression caught between fear and hope, and you loved him more than you could ever say.

“What do you mean, ‘what is this’?” you said. You touched your hands to his cheeks and gave a watery laugh. “I love you too, Danny.”

No sooner had the words left your mouth than he’d taken you in a tight hug and stood to spin you around.

“Yes!” he yelled, exultant, boyish and sincere. “Yes! Oh, thank god!”

You giggled as he spun you one more time, dizzy and happy and so in love with him you could barely stand it. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined you would get such an enthusiastic response to a love confession, and you adored him for it.

He set you gently on your own two feet but still held you close.

“I love you,” he said. “Is that crazy?”

You laughed. “No. I don’t think it’s crazy at all. I love you too.”

He took your face in his hands and kissed you, warm and passionate and sweet. When he finally let you come up for air, you looked up at his beloved face.

“I love you, Danny,” you said softly.

He smiled. “I love you too, sunshine.”

He kissed you again, and you could have stayed like that forever if Danny’s phone hadn’t gone off over and over again.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Danny muttered between kisses.

You smiled, affectionate towards Danny’s friends who just wanted to make sure he was happy.

“Tell him,” you said. “He’s not going to stop until you do.”

Danny gave you a few more kisses, attempting to leave you after each one, drawn back to you irresistibly and met with your laughter and sweet kisses in return.

“Go,” you laughed, giving him a light push towards the bed where his phone lay with several texts on the screen.

He did, reluctantly, but he was pleased that you came to sit next to him at the end of the bed as he scanned through Sam’s texts.

“Look at this,” Danny said with a fond, mildly exasperated laugh. He showed you the text thread and scrolled through a number of texts all bearing virtually the same messages: did you tell her? how did it go?

“What are you gonna say?” you asked.

He showed you the text he sent. I told her. Is it possible to die of happiness?

“Aw, Danny,” you said softly. You gave him a gentle kiss, and he melted against you.

Sam texted back, and both of you laughed when you read it.

HOLY SHIT??? to answer your question I don’t think so otherwise birdie would have killed me by now but CONGRATS BROTHER!!!!

A few seconds later, he texted again. Birdie says she wants to have lunch tomorrow and hear everything from both of you but for now we’ll shut up and leave you to it!!!! Go get ‘em tiger!!!

“Oh, god,” Danny said with an embarrassed laugh. He locked his phone and tossed it on the bed. “Well, there you have it. The thrilling saga of texting my friends who apparently made it their personal mission to see that I told you all my dirty secrets.”

He laid back on the bed, and you remembered there were still secrets you hadn’t gotten the answer to. You were content to forget it, though, not wanting to bring up anything that might ruin the perfect balance of happiness and excitement between you.

“What is it?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

He gave you a knowing smile. “You’re thinking real hard about something, sunny. Tell me. Do you want to ask me something?”

You didn’t know whether to like that he could read you so easily or to blush at the thought that every emotion played across your face as you felt it.

“Kind of,” you admitted, “but it doesn’t matter. It’s not a big deal.”

“Should be an easy thing to answer, then.” He tugged very gently on the necklace he’d given you. “You should know right from the beginning that you can talk to me about anything, sunshine. I promise.”

Your heart wobbled a little. “Thank you,” you said, and you meant it.

“You don’t have to thank me, but you’re welcome.” He tenderly brushed his knuckles against your jaw. “What do you want to ask me, sunny?”

You took a deep breath.

“Who’s Emma?” you finally asked. “The... the girl who can’t wait to see you tomorrow?”

He gave you a kind smile.

“She does my hair,” he said.

You felt a searing flash of embarrassment. “No she doesn’t.”

He laughed. “Yes, she does. I’m getting highlights tomorrow.”

You winced, mortified at yourself and your overreaction. You covered your face with your hands.

“Oh, Danny. I’m really sorry.”

“Why? You don’t think I’d look good with highlights?”

You couldn’t answer, and he chuckled as he propped himself up on his arm, pulling your hands away from your face with his free hand.

“It’s okay, sunny,” he said consolingly. “I get it.”

“I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions,” you said. “I’m sorry, Danny. It wasn’t any of my business who you were texting or who was texting you anyway.”

“But she sent me a kissy face,” he said sympathetically. “I understand why you were upset, sweetheart.”

Your heart jumped at the pet name, and you couldn’t stifle the nervous, giddy laugh that bubbled out of you.

He grinned. “What was that cute little laugh for?” he asked. “Did you like it when I called you sweetheart?”

You covered your face with your hands again, blushing hot. “No.”

He chuckled. “Come here, sunshine. If you hide behind your hands every time you blush, we’re gonna be in trouble.”

He tugged gently on your wrist, and you followed until you leaned your head against his shoulder with a soft thump.

“You are my sweetheart,” he said tenderly, amused and affectionate. He kissed your cheek. “My baby love, my dearest, my pretty girl. My honey bunch.”

You smiled. “Your honey bunch?”

“Yeah, you like that one?” he said with a soft laugh. He peppered gentle kisses over your cheeks. “Let me take you on a date tonight, honey bunch. A real one, not a wedding.”

“But we like going to weddings.”

“We do,” he agreed. “But I think we need something a little more low-key, like some late-night Thai food.”

You lifted your head from his shoulder. “I actually know a good Thai place around here.”

“Sweet. Let’s go.” He gave you a quick kiss as he stood, and you were a little stunned with how easy it was, how casual and wonderful it was to be kissed like that.

He looked mildly worried when you didn’t stand with him. “You okay? You want to go somewhere else?”

You shook your head. “No.” You took the hand he offered you. “Can you kiss me again?”

He smiled and pulled you close. “Sunshine, I’ll kiss you until you’re sick of me.”

“Not possible.”

“Oh yeah?” He leaned close to kiss you again. “Well, I guess it can’t hurt to find out.”

danny taglist: @tearsofbri @busybeingtrash @myway-late @gotavansleep @gretavanbri @stardustchxrds @pxppylove @mariegvf

fic taglist: @streamsofstardust

gvf taglist: @malany-gvf @spark-my-nature @eearevee @madneedshelp @demonrat444 @josh-iamyour-mama @honeyandsweettae @mydarlingdanny @gretavandann @sacredjake @myleftsock @joshskittytickler21 @hellowgoodbye @watchingovergvf2 @fearfulspirit @mywaysoon @carbondancingthroughtime @caprisunsister @eraofstardustchords @sacredthefran @shesawomaninadream @serendipiti @demonrat444 @wildflowerxx-x

@gvfrry @ohhey1293 @the-chaotic-cow @mountain-in-springtime @xserenax-13 @stardustjtk @brooke-gvf @weightofdreams-gvf @jakeydoesit @gretasmokerising @hayley1623 @doodle417 @finestoflines @brokenbellz @bowievanfleet @s0livagant @strugglingtodoshit @s-u-t @kay-jordan @gretavanfleas @jakeyboiiiiiii @gretavansteph @gretavanbitches @myownparadise96 @luverleaver @weightofdreamz @greatervanfleet @maedesculpaeusoubi @jakekiszkasbestie @pineapple-photographer @baguettejuliette @alexxavicry @levi-wants-ur-bones @carlybubs @cowboysamkiszka @dannyandthekiszkas @jordierama @slutforsteve @starshine-wagner

sorry if tumblr didn’t tag you — it’s stupid sometimes. but i’m real thankful for you, sweet peaches! and if you’re a new bestie and would like to be added to my taglist, check out the form right here!

#oh man i was so happy to be writing danny and sunny again #let me know what you think of this chapter!! there's still one more to go after this <3 #danny wagner x reader #danny wagner fanfiction #greta van fleet fanfiction #gvf fanfiction #gvf #danny wagner #maddie writes stuff!#four weddings and a funeral fic

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