#had to write this down okay the movie made me FERAL

[redskull199987]

i have two so I'll probably send them separately, but at the same time I feel like that would be a lot of notifications (also fem reader please); #1 is giving mike schmidt head under his desk while he's at work and stuff , #2 is like playing with mike's hair and stuff to help him sleep and cuddling with him , and #3 is mike bending reader over his desk and going to down because he's had a pretty bad shift and needs to relieve stress. you can just do one or all, it's up to you

First of all, this is only one of these three requsts, the second one to be precise. The others will follow of course, don't worry. Until then, I hope that you enjoy this one. I had lots of fun writing this:D

So hear my Voice, remind you not to bleed

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader Request Word Count:1.3k Warnings:tooth rotting fluff,kissing and hugging, that’s all, slight movie spoilers Summary:You knew that your Boyfriend had trouble falling asleep, so you did everything you could to help him find his way into sweet sweet dreamland…

Masterlist

You felt like shit. At least, that was the short version. And the longer one wasn't even that much longer. To put it simply, you had an awfully long week. And that was probably an underestimation. 

You fought murderous animatronics, a creepy dude in a bunny costume, a feral cupcake and after all that shit, you barely escaped with your life. And while you were fortunate and had only obtained a few minor scratches and bruises here and there, Mike had a few life threatening flesh wounds and Vannesa was lucky to be alive at all, after her father had stabbed her.

Your Bones ached and your head was pounding, as you finally made your way home. Unfortunately, you couldn’t just ask your Boss to give you a few days off because you had several Animatronic-induced wounds scattered over your body. Heck, you were happy you didn’t just lose your job after not showing up for three days in a row. 

All you could do was tell them that you got involved in a car accident and that you and your boyfriend had been in the hospital for a few days. Much to your favor, they believed you and the fact that Vanessa was still in the Hospital only backed up your little lie.

Your Mind was still racing, as you reached your little Home. It was already dark outside, as you stepped into the comfort of your Apartment. You saw Lights coming from the Living Room and the Sound of the TV slowly made its way into your Brain and pushed away the gruesome memories of the Pizza-Plex.

“Mike?”, You shouted into the darkness,”Abby? I’m Home.”

You didn’t receive an answer, so you quickly discarded your shoes and Jacket and walked into the Living Room. Only now, you noticed Abby sitting in front of the Sofa, drawing with her Crayons and listening to the sound of the TV.

“Hey Abbs.”, You smiled and leaned down to greet the little Girl. She practically beamed at you and gave you a small hug.

“Have You eaten yet? Where’s Mike?”, You quickly asked again as you rose back to your feet.

“Yes, we had Spaghetti with meatballs.”, Abby stated happily,”And Mike said he was tired and went to sleep already. He told me I could stay up for a little bit longer:”

“Okay then.”, You mumbled, gently running a hand through Abby’s Hair,”I’ll go join your Brother in Bed. Don’t stay up too late, okay Love?”

Abby nodded at you profusely before turning her focus back on the Half finished Drawing in front of her. You looked at her once more, before deciding to finally go see your Boyfriend in your shared bedroom. You knew that he was always tired. Even before you started dating. You knew what you were getting yourself into.

 But after recent events, his insomnia seemed to get severely worse. He could barely fall asleep anymore and even if he did, he’d be awake again a few hours later, jumping up with heavy breaths and a sweaty forehead. You always tried to comfort him and be there for him, but you still felt like you weren’t doing enough. Like, you should do more. But you didn’t know how.

With a sigh, You slowly pushed your bedroom door open. You were surprised as you realized that the lights were still on and Mike was sitting in the middle of the Bed, still fully dressed.

“Mike?”, You asked with furrowed brows,”Are You okay, my Love?”

He didn’t answer you at first. Only as you got closer and sat down next to him, he looked at you.

“S-Sorry, must’ve been lost in my thoughts again. I didn’t notice you coming in.”, Mike explained. His voice was raspy and tired. With a soft smile, you grabbed his hand, squeezing it lightly:”It’s okay, don’t worry. You wanna go to sleep?”

Mike only gave you a nod and got up to change into his sleeping attire,which consisted of a Shirt and some sweatpants. You quickly followed him over to the wardrobe and before he could pull off his hoodie, you carefully hugged him from behind, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I love You.”, you uttered against his skin. You could see how the hair on the back of his neck stood on end and the shiver that went down his spine.

“I love you too.”, Mike answered, taking a hold of your hands and turning around in your embrace. For the first time today he gave you a smile. A lazy one, but you saw that it was genuine. You quickly leaned forward, planting a kiss on his cheek, before you connected your lips with his in a tender kiss. You felt his hands wander to your waist and he pulled you closer. Warmth radiated off of his Body, while his lips worked against your own in passion.

As you finally parted due to the lack of oxygen, both Mike and you were panting against each other's lips. It was quiet for a few minutes and no one said anything, while the two of you just enjoyed each other's company.

But then you reached for the hem of his hoodie and as Mike realized what your plan was, he obediently raised his arms, so that you could pull the hoodie off of his body. After you let the Hoodie fall to the Floor, Mike grabbed the Hem of your sweater and the two of you repeated the whole action, but with your roles reversed this time. 

It didn’t take long, until you were both in your sleeping attires after you lazily helped changing each other.

With a drowsy smile, You grabbed Mike’s hand and pulled him back towards the bed. You had of course noticed that his expression wasn’t really the happiest, as he was afraid of having nightmares again. He had told you about them. It was always the same. He saw Abby, Vanessa or You getting stabbed by William Afton and there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t move or scream. He just had to witness it.

“Come here.”, You mumbled and held out your hand as you saw that Mike was hesitating to lay down. His gaze wandered from the sheets to your face and it seemed like the soft smile you gave him did the trick on him. He gently grabbed your hand and let himself be pulled down by you. As his head was laying comfortably in the crook of your neck and your hands were slowly brushing through his hair, Mike let out a deep sigh.

“It’s okay. I’m here with you, Mike.”, You mumbled into his ear. You felt how his arms slung around your waist, pulling you closer.

“I know.”, Mike muttered under his breath,”You’re here.”

He took a deep breath in again, before you finally felt his body relax against yours. You quickly grabbed the blanket, pulling it over the two of you.

“Just concentrate on my voice.”, you said, soothingly rubbing his back with one hand, while the other still brushed through his hair to calm him down,“Listen to my voice. You’re not alone. I’m here with you.”,

“You’re here with me.”, Mike repeated quietly. You only nodded and continued to mumble sweet nothings into his ear. And within Minutes, you felt his grip on you loosen ever so slightly, while his breath became more even.

With a soft smile, You kissed the crown of his head once more, before also letting your eyes fall shut. If Mike could sleep, you could sleep too. And if he woke up, You would wake up too, no matter what.

[lunarzstarz]

Just thinking about being all sleepy and needy in Steve’s lap… (NSFW 18 under the cut)

His fingers deep inside of you drawing out orgasm after orgasm you’d lost count. The movie long forgotten about as he brings you closer to the edge for what felt like the hundredth time. He’s got one arm wrapped around your waist holding your hips in place while his other hand fucks you, head resting against the back of the couch.

It’s all too much but not enough at the same time, your eyes heavy with the sheer exhaustion from the amount of times he’s made you cum, a mess pooling down your thighs onto his sweatpants. Your head laying against in the crook of his neck, pressing the occasional kiss to his skin. He had been going at it for what felt like hours and he showed no sign of stopping anytime soon.

You reach another orgasm, whining into his neck, legs shaky, he just smiles as more of your slick runs out and down his palm as his fingers disappear into you, keeping up his slow relentless pace.

“Please Stevie” you beg, voice barely above a whisper as he nudged against your sensitive clit.

“What is it? You want me to stop?” He’s already slowing down, seeing the tiredness in your eyes, you were on the verge of sleep.

“No! I just- I want more” you rock your hips, grinding against his hardness that had been pressing into your back and he groans.

“I don’t know you seem pretty tired baby” he coos, slipping his fingers out of “think you’ve had enough for tonight.”

“No please, I need you inside of me, please?” you whine at the loss of his touch, reaching for him, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. You were tired, but you needed him more than ever right now.

You give him that look that always made him cave, seeing that little pout and watery eyes pleading him. “Okay, c’mere” he gives in, not needing very much persuasion, helping you up to straddle his hips.

He slides his pants down, just enough to free his cock, you could see how much he needed this too, clearly having gotten himself all worked up from playing with you. He holds you in place, gliding his tip through your slick before guiding himself into you.

You felt the stretch you’d been longing for as you fully seated yourself on him, sighing with relief. His hands soothing up and down the curve of you back, you relaxed against him, head resting on his warm chest listening to the beat of his heart.

He starts the slow rock of his hips, your exhaustion taking over you as he lulls you to sleep. He feels you go limp in his arms, continuing with his small thrusts, listening to your breathing turn deep. He looked down at you, eyes shut, lips parted letting out the odd whimper when he hit that particular spot, you looked so peaceful and content. He smiles lovingly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, shutting his own eyes.

I’m so feral for this mannnnn I want him so bad pls leave some Steve/Eddie thoughts in my asks I’m in the mood to write some blurbs

[mytheoristavenue]

Dude I know you don't have any requests but if you ever feel up to it I would absolutely eat up a continuation of your creature x reader fic...perhaps they slowly fall for each other.

Hes just...he's so sweet and the way you write him makes me feral. I'm definitely going to check out your other works.

This is me letting you know that your target audience had been reached

Normally, I would politely decline or ignore requests, as I just don't enjoy doing them anymore for multiple reasons, but I wanted to address this one specifically. Hopefully this isn't too short!

For the sake of this story, let's pretend that the time between the events of the movie span over a longer period.

LF Creature x Reader - Compost

Summary: Creature helps you out in your garden.

Warnings: mentions of rot, bugs, worms, and dung, creature x reader, bisexual reader, reader has a crush on Lisa, continuation of Mutual Comfort, plot holes, not proofread, spelling/gramatical errors, calling Creature Ein

"You look different today," you noticed allowed, squatted over the flower bed, carefully dropping a marigold from your trowel and covering the roots with soil. "Little more alive."

The man behind you grunted in response, prompting you to glance at him over your shoulder. He seemed to have more color in his face, and his hair seemed less stringy. He lifted a discolored hand, and waved it around as if it were an explaination. You simply shrugged, not understanding the meaning, and went back to what you were doing.

"Regaurdless, I appreciate you helping me." you smiled, standing up and admiring your newly replanted marigolds. Another grunt in responce. "Now I need to mix up the compost pile. Mind pushing that wheel barrow over there?" you aske pointing to the object and then to the destination. Nodding, Creature made his way over.

Once he got behind the wheel barrow, however, he scrunched his face in disgust. "What?" you laughed, slumping your shoulders. "Too good for hard labor? He shook his head, letting go of thehandles and covering his nose. Finally, it clicked for you.

"Oh, come on, you big baby. It doesn't stink tha bad." you rolled your eyes, walking over to simply wheel it over yourself. Seeing you prepared to take matters into your own hands, Creature finally pulled himself up by the bootstraps, taking hold of the handles again and pushing it forward. "Its cow dung, if you were curious," you giggled, following him. "My dad has a friend that owns a far and he hooks me up with free manure for the garden."

Once again, Creature grimaced, turning up his nose. "Hey, Zomboy," you scolded playfully. "Your half rotted flest doesn't smell all that much better." He flashed you a hurt expression coupled with a somber groan, making you back peddle. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry."

Finally in front of the compost pile, you grabbed a nearby shovel and began to heave the dung onto the top, the smell never once bothering you. When you were finished, you stuck the shovel in the ground and rested a foot on it, hiking your knee up, and glued your hands to your hips, tired from a hard day's work.

"I don't know about you, but I think today is a good day for some lemonade." You sighed, beginning to walk back toward the house, Creature trailing behind you. "You like lemonade?" He nodded when you glanced back, prompting you to smile. "Go ahead and take a seat," you said, motioning to the patio set to his right. "I'll go get us some."

After a few minutes, you returned, slipping out the back door and into the yard, a glass in each hand, but your eyes lit up before you couven step off the patio. You quickly scurried over to set the glasses down, gushing over what he had. It was a lovely little hand picked bouquet, mostly consisting of wildflowers and weeds. In the short time you were gone, Creature had taken it upon himself to currate you a gift. "Ein..." you breathed, taking it from him and examining it. "You did this for me...?" you asked, oblivious to how silly the question was. He nodded with a timid smile, inviting you to sit with him.

After a moment, your heart dropped, realizing what you'd called him by. "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry I called you that!" you fretted. "Lisa told me that was the last little bit of your name, I sholdv'e asked if you'd be kay with being called that."

He seemed to wave your worries off, shaking his head, signalling tha he wasn't bothered. He then bowed his head, something that confused you. "So you are okay with me calling you Ein?" He bowed again, and you were unable to keep the grin from spreading across your face. "Okay, Ein it is then. I suppose we couldn't have just called you 'Creature' forever, right?" He shrugged, as if he truly didn't care what his name ended up being. "Regardless, thank you for the flowers, they're beautiful."

The man couldn't help but stare as you admired the little nosegay, noting how eyes eyes lit up when you smiled and your nose scrunched when you laughed. He actually found himself so invested in observing you while sipping his lemonade that he choked a little when your eyes flitted back to him.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" you suddenly jumped up, patting his back as he coughed, hunched over. "Ein? Ein! Are you okay?" you panicked, patting a bit harder, and wondering if the heimlick would even work on a corpse. Luckily, that deemed to be unnessisary as he finally spat up whatever was clogging his airway.There on the table, squirmed a very long, slimy earthworm.

"I-Is...is that a worm?" you grimaced, entirely freaked out as you stared at it, eyes flickering back to his every few seconds. Creature was frozen in place, terrified he'd ruined a lovely moment between the two of you, and slapped his hand over the thing, shaking his head no. "You're telling me I didn't just watch you spit up a worm onto my dad's patio table? You're telling me if I move your hand, there's not gonna be a worm?"

Hesitantly, he shook his head with a nervous smile, resisting as hard as possible when you grabbed his hand to move it. Though you had no time to think about it then, you couldn't help but notice the way the stitches holding his hand on felt under your finger tips- definately an interesting sensation.

Finally, you managed to lift his hand up, still holding it, and proved yourself right, once again staring at the wiggly little thing on the table. With a sigh, and ignoring his protests, you reached down and lifted it into your palm. "Got anymore?"

Creature sheepishly shook his head and got up to follow you as you walked away. "Well, this little guy is going in my compost pile." you decided, pinching the worm out of your palm and setting it on top of the pile. "And if it has any buddies in there, they're welcome to the pile too." you smiled, grabbing his hand again.

"I like you," you confessed with a giggle. "A few little bugs aren't gonna scare me away."

I hope this was along the lines of what you were looking for! Sorry it was so rushed, it probably has a million errors, as my gramarly is suddenly not working!

[imonanotherlebel]

Could you write something a little smutty about best friend Jake 👀

Whispers in the Moonlight

Requested: Best friend Jake makes everyone go feral omg

Pairing: Jake x reader

Warnings : 18+, Minors DO NOT INTERACT! Suggestive content, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex, fingering, fem receiving, does the devil's tango, possessive Jake, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (use protection!), smut ahead!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊

Y/n's pov

*ding*

I checked my phone and there it was. As usual. The drunk posts.

Sunsuniscool- Out with the boys!

Jake and his friends have started this thing where they drink whenever one of them is feeling down. I wonder who it is today. Nevertheless, they all drink like they are heartbroken.

A few hours later.

*ding*

Sunsuniscool- Jake is sad :( AND WASTED

Why is he sad? They are drinking today because Jake is sad? But he is my best friend. Jake is the type of guy that tells me EVERYTHING. Should I text him?

No. I should wait until he is sober.

Literally 20 mins later

*call from Sunoo☀️*

Sunoo: Hey Y/n sorry to bother you at this time. *rumbles and groans in the background* Jake is so drunk. We can't control him. He keeps asking for you. *inaudible sounds*

Y/n: Send me your location. I'll come get you guys.

Sunoo: Yeonjun hyung said he is coming to get us. But Jake won't stop screaming, "I am not leaving!". And he keeps on drinking more.

Jake, in the background: y/n.... y/n is here?

Sunoo: *sigh* There he goes again. Y/n he always listens to you. Please tell him to stop drinking and let us carry him home. I'm giving him the phone, okay?

Jake: Hey babyyyy... I'm sowwyyy...

He slurred through the phone. Gosh. He's drunk.

Y/n: Hey yourself egghead! Stop playing around and let them take you home!

Jake: Owkay y/n.... Yes sir!

The effect of alcohol was evident in his voice. I hung up, sighing.

He called me baby.. I mean, he does once in a while, but this time, it was different... It did something to me and I like it.

There was something in his voice that was hard to wrap my head around... I was lost in my thoughts as minutes passed by. The movie was playing on my TV, no attention payed by me....

*knock*

The sudden knock on my door made me snap out of my thoughts. Who could it be at this time of the night?

Wait.

It can't be.

Right?

I practically sprinted to the door and looked through the peephole. Jake.

I'm used to having him crash at my place when he's drunk, but today. I feel like something is going to go wrong. Or right.

I opened the door.

"Oh hey y/n", he said giving his signature smile. His eyes were half closed, the influence of alcohol clearly visible in him.

"Jake", I said. That's it. I don't know what to say. He looks... Different.

"Can I come in y/n?", he asked his voice turning lower. His eyes meeting mine.

I stepped back, opening the door wider so he can come in.

He got in, closing the door carefully before locking it. He removed his jacket and the sweater, down to his white t-shirt. The air has something different in it today. I can feel it. It's got some tension in it and it made me feel a little.... uncomfortable....

He kept eye contact with me the whole time. His eyes had something dark about them today, and pain.

"You know for a guy who was wasted a couple of hours ago, you look pretty sturdy.", I said trying to regain my composure. He looks like he’s about to eat me alive damn.

"Is he better than me y/n?", he asked pain amplifying in his eyes. His eyes glossy from alcohol, but now that I see him close enough, He has cried... Oh why...

"Who, Jake?", I asked confused.

"What were you doing with that guy? Huh?", he asked further, not answering my question as I didn't answer his. He looked mad.

"With what guy, Jake? I don't know who or what you're talking about. I'm serious.", I genuinely answered.

He ran his fingers through his hair looking to the side, anger very evident in his behavior. "Come on y/n, you know who I'm talking about!" He cupped my face with some force using both his hands, but still gentle enough not to hurt me. "Today. At college. I saw you with Him. You said you had something important to do. Meeting him was the important thing?" He asked veins in his eyes red with emotions. His voice was shaky and cracking mid sentence. Now that he is so close, I can smell his perfume mixed with alcohol.

" J-jake. Jake you're drunk. And I don't know why you're acting like this. And I- I don't know who you're talking about.", I said struggling to find my words. Okay, I've lied.

Can I be honest? I have liked Jake for a while now, more than a friend. But I’m unsure of his feelings. I might have fucked things up today trying to make him jealous at college today. I didn't think he'd get this upset. I almost had forgotten about it if I'm being honest.

Jake took a step closer, his gaze intense. "Matthew. Is he better than me? Why was he so close to you, huh? I saw the way he was looking at you!"

I hesitated, unsure of where this conversation was heading. "Jake, you're my best friend. No one can replace you."

He let out a bitter chuckle. "Best friend, huh? Is that all I am?"

I could sense the vulnerability beneath his intoxicated state. This wasn't just about Matthew; there was something more significant bothering him.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Did you guys hook up, uh?", he asked looking to a side smiling bitterly.

"No! no Jakey you've got it all wrong. He is only a friend, we were only-"

"Well he definitely thinks you guys are more than that.", he said bitterly. "At lunch, I heard his friends talking about how you two are such a perfect match. And then I saw you with that fucker. Did he fuck you, y/n?"

The room grew even more tense as Jake's accusations hung in the air. I could see the pain etched on his face, and my heart sank at the realization that my attempt to make him jealous had backfired.

"Jake, please listen. Nothing happened with Matthew. He's just a friend," I emphasized, hoping to break through the fog of alcohol and misunderstandings. "Nothing happened between Matthew and me.", I pleaded, trying to diffuse the mounting tension.

Jake's gaze softened momentarily, but the anger lingered. "I don't know what's happening, Y/n. I just... I saw you with him, and it hurt. It hurt more than it should have."

"Jake, what's really going on?", I asked.

He sighed, running his hand through his disheveled hair. "I messed up, Y/n. Big time."

I frowned, concern deepening. "What happened?"

He looked at me, his eyes searching for something. "I... I told Sunoo that I liked someone. Someone I shouldn't."

My mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle. "Who, Jake? You can tell me."

He hesitated before finally uttering a name, "You, Y/n. I like you."

The admission hung in the air, catching me off guard. The alcohol had surely loosened his inhibitions, but his sincerity was undeniable. I felt a mix of emotions – surprise, confusion, relief, and a hint of realization.

"I didn't mean for this to happen," Jake continued, avoiding my gaze. "I didn't want to ruin our friendship, but I can't keep pretending."

I took a moment to absorb his words, realizing the significance of the situation. The air became thicker, the tension palpable. What was I supposed to say? That I've always loved him too? Or that he looks so sexy right now. I should not be thinking that right now!

Before I could gather my thoughts, Jake looked up, his eyes pleading for some form of response. The silence between us was both awkward and charged with unspoken emotions.

"Jake, let's talk about this when you're sober," I suggested, trying to buy some time to process everything.

He sighed, releasing my face from his grip. "I don't know, Y/n. Everything's just messed up right now."

I couldn't deny the intensity of the moment or the fact that Jake's confession had stirred something within me. Before I could formulate a response, Jake closed the distance between us, his lips capturing mine in a desperate, almost urgent kiss. The kiss was a mixture of frustration, passion, and a desperate attempt to make sense of the chaos.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The weight of his feelings and the lingering taste of alcohol on his lips mixed in a cocktail of emotions. It was a kiss filled with longing, uncertainty, and a hint of regret.

As we pulled away, the room felt charged with a new kind of energy. Our eyes locked, and the unspoken conversation continued. Jake's gaze searched mine for a reaction, and I found myself grappling with the sudden shift in dynamics.

"Jake," I began, my voice a whisper, "we need to talk about this."

"Do you like me too?"

"Yes"

"Then?"

"I don't know"

"No for fuck's sake y/n! I want you! Fuck, I wanna leave marks all over you neck so that fucker will know who you belong to. I want to be the only one who loves you, who can fuck you."

"Jake, you might regret this tomorrow, you're drunk-", he cut me mid sentence kissing me once more, this time hungrily. I melted into the kiss, our lips moving in perfect sync.

His kisses moved, leaving wet kisses all over my chin to my jawline and down my neck until he settled at my collarbone, sucking on it slowly. His hand travelled to my waist, pulling me closer towards his body. I bit my lips, whimpering, trying to hide my moans which were threatening to leave my lips any moment.

"So tell me baby, will you let me fuck you so good?", he asked breathing heavily, need and dominance evident in his tone.

"What happened to 'I like you, will you be my girlfriend?' ", I asked chuckling.

"I said that. I told you that I liked you. You said you like me too. I think we can skip the go on a few dates before you fuck rule. What do you think?", he asked lust filled in his tone as it only became lower and lower.

"Good point"

"So what do you say y/n? Will you let me fuck you?", he asked smirking.

"Yes", I said pulling his face with both my hands, crashing my lips into his lips. Fuck I want him so bad.

He kissed me sloppily as he guided me to the nearest wall, pushing me against it. His hands roamed my body making me moan into the kiss.

He started kissing my neck and something in me let loose as I let out a moan. I could feel him smirking into my skin. I was holding my moans in as his hand moved down the side of my hip to my thigh, grabbing it tight. He then lifted my leg holding it against his as his other hand pulled me even closer to his body. His actions came to a halt as he looked at me, letting my leg back down.

"Jump" He said making every part of my body heat up.

I did as he told me, wrapping my legs around him as he carried me into my room. I held onto him for dear life, but the ride was short as he soon entered my room and threw me onto the bed. He took a step back and smirked.

"Damn baby, I've dreamt of this moment a hundred times. How are you so fucking hot?", he asked sexily, filled with love.

"Only for you Jakey", I said making doe eyes at him, working him up even more than he is already.

"Fuck." he exclaimed as he quickly removed his t-shirt and dived into me, immediately kissing me with the same passion and hunger as a moment ago. My hands found itself on his toned body, the warmth making my core tingle.

I moved my hands along his back and his toned arms, this felt like heaven. He pulled back, pulling me with him, I was now seated on the bed while he was kneeling.

"I know I asked this in the heat of the moment y/n, but really, are you okay? Are you okay with what's about to happen? Because if you're uncomfortable, I can totally understand y/n. I don't want you to do anything you don't want to d-"

"Jakey. I like you too. I want you."

"Oh thank god!" he said smiling as he dived back into me. Embracing me with love as he started kissing me everywhere his lips could find. He swiftly removed my T-shirt and bra, his left hand eagerly finding one of my breasts as his other hand pulled my face into yet another heated kiss.

Soon his hands were roaming my whole body, touching me softly yet so hard, making each place he touch burn oh so sweetly. His hand moved lower and lower and so did his kisses. After taking his sweet time kissing and sucking my nipples, he started kissing my belly, leaving hickeys all over it.

"Mmmm Jake." , I whimpered.

His hands found my shorts and looked at me once more as he gripped my hips. His eyes met mine, asking the same question; Are you ready? I rolled my hips towards him, biting my lip.

"Fuck", he said as he quickly removed my shorts, leaving me in my panties.

His hand moved to my clit, rubbing me through my underwear. I let out whimpers, as my eyed rolled to the back of my head. He groaned in satisfaction.

"Damn baby you're soaking." He moaned out and ripped them off.

"Hey! I liked those you know?", I screamed out surprised at his eagerness.

"Don't worry baby, I will buy you hundreds of them.", he said smirking and then his eyes moved to my pussy. "Wow baby, how is everything about you so fucking sexy?", he said as he moved down holding my hips in place.

He slowly started placing wet kisses down my thighs, moving closer and closer to his target. He quickly reached his destination and buried his face in between my legs.

He started pressing small kisses on my pussy and on my pussy lips, incoherent words coming out of his lips every now and then. Then he started to leave kitten licks through my folds making me moan shamelessly.

"Such a needy little girl y/n? Tell me y/n, tell me what you want?"

"I want you to eat me out Jakeyyy.. I need you pleaseee."

He quickly got to work between my folds, licking me hungrily. One of his fingers slowly entered my pussy, making me let out whimper after whimper.

"You taste so fucking good baby. So delicious for me."

"Oh fuck Jakey don't stop", I moaned out as he slowly started pumping his finger in and out of my wet pussy, His tongue expertly licking my clit. He moaned at my whimpers, making vibrations run through every nerve ending down there. He entered another finger and increased his pace.

"Will you cum for me, baby?", Jake asked sensing that I am close to my high by the increased pitch of my moans. I nodded my head madly as he was right. I am so close. He kept fucking me with his fingers, as he licked my clit so so well. It hit me like a tidal wave, making my eyes roll back and making me see white. I screamed in pleasure as the continued licking and fingering me, helping me ride out my first orgasm of the night.

"Breathe, baby", he said as he stopped his movements. I caught up with my breath as my heart started to calm down. I was calmed down enough to notice the bulge in his pants.

I sat back up and started reaching for his zipper, but he stopped me, holding my hand still.

"Today is about you baby. Let me make you feel good. Plus, I want to feel you around me now baby, I can't wait any longer.", He whispered, looking into my eyes. His lips and chin still glistening from my wetness.

Oh my god. He is so hot; shirtless, his hair sticking on his forehead here and there from the sweat, lips plump and red, eyes so full of hunger and love.

He started removing his pants, soon removing his boxers as well, letting his full length spring free. He was long and hard, with a good amount of girth. Damn, good thing he fingered me. Even with all that prep I still doubt if I can take it all.

"What's with the face pretty?"

"That is not gonna fit", I said pointing at his dick.

"I think we can make it work", he said smiling as he pushed me onto my back again, quickly getting on top of me. He pumped himself a couple of times before lining himself up with my entrance.

He spread my legs apart further and with one hand, guided his tip to move along my folds a few times. I couldn't help but roll my hips at the soft friction.

"Damn baby stay still", he said holding my hips down. He then started to enter into me, Little by little.

"Ohhh fuuuckk!", I screamed out as he went all in, stretching me out to the max, making my insides burn deliciously.

"Tell me when you're ready baby", Jake said as he gave me some time to get used to the size. I nodded slowly. Taking a few breaths as moving my hips around slowly till I fount the most comfortable spot. When I was ready I slowly moaned out "Move, Jakey".

He slowly started to move in and out of me, turning the stinging sensation into pure pleasure. Soon enough, his pace became quicker and quicker.

"Fuck baby this is all I've ever dreamt of and more. Will you be a good girl and take my dick, baby?", Jake moaned out as he fucked me out raw.

"Yes Jakey. I'm gonna take you so good.", I moaned out rolling my hips with him, our bodies finding the perfect rhythm. I'm in heaven.

"I am the only one who can fuck you till you cry, right y/n?", He said his voice low and raspy with dominance. Oh he possessive already. It makes me clench around him earning a moan from him.

"Yes. Oh fuck. Faster Jake!", I screamed out in pleasure as the familiar knot in my stomach was starting to grow tighter.

His pace increased, fucking me fast and passionately. Kissing me wherever his lips could find. My nails dug into his back as I felt my climax come closer and closer. I felt his dick twitch inside of me.

"I'm close Jake! Oh god!", I moaned out.

"Me too baby me too.", he moaned back as his pace turned sloppier and faster.

He moved at a machine like speed making my mind turn hazy and foggy. "Cum for me baby, clench around me y/n. Cum for me."

"Oh fuuuuckk!", I screamed out in pleasure, seeing stars as my orgasm washed over me. He continued to fuck me, making me ride out my orgasm and immediately I felt the warmth of his liquid coating my insides. It made me clench around him, milking every drop out of him. His head moved back in pleasure as he slowly came to a halt, collapsing onto me.

We just stayed like that for a few minutes, slowly gaining our senses breath after breath.

"That was the best moment of my life!" Jake exclaimed, smiling. Showing his puppy like smile to me, coming back to his usual self.

"Me too.", I said smiling back.

"Oh My God!", he said looking down to where we were still connected and back at me, his eyes wide with fear. He quickly pulled out of me.

"Owch! What?", I asked wincing at the sensitiveness.

"I forgot to wear a condom!", he screeched out.

"Haven't you heard of a birth control pill, you silly?", I said smiling. "A condom would have been better though", I added.

"Oh thank god. I don't want to get you pregnant until you're ready. You've told me, you wanted to graduate and start earning and the build a family someday.", He said, smiling, stroking my hair after laying beside me.

"You remembered.", I said smiling, happy at the thought of him remembering every detail about me.

"So y/n...", he started softly.

"Hmmm?"

"Will you be my girlfriend?", he asked nervously.

"Yes, you silly. I have always liked you, you oblivious egghead!", I said smacking his head playfully.

He pulled me into his embrace, sighing in content as he kissed my forehead.

"I love you Jakey", I whispered, genuinely happy that my long time crush and the person I've trusted and loved the most is finally my boyfriend.

"I love you more y/n"

-------------------------------------------------------------

This is my first fic on tumblr. Forgive me if I've not hit the spot or if this isn't good enough. I'm happy to write for you anytime! <3

[psychedelic-ink]

'𝒕𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

genre: romance, holiday fic, mutual pining, neighbor au, fluff, smut

word count: 4.5k

summary: you've been crushing on your handsome neighbor for quite some time, but even if you've made your intentions clear, it doesn't seem to get through to him. However that all might change when his flight gets canceled and the two of you spend the holidays together.

warnings: idiots in love, oblivious!frankie dirty talk, messy oral (receiving), feral!frankie but also sweet!frankie best of both worlds, a dash of competency kink king of pussy eating frankie (tag courtesy of kay)

a/n: I was the pinch-hitter secret santa for the amazing @the-ginger-hedge-witch sorry that this ended up being a tinsy bit late but I hope you enjoy it all the same! I did have a blast writing your prompts and I hope I did it justice 💜💜 Merry Christmas, I hope you have a splendid year 🎅

thank you to @pedrostories who hosted the event, and special thanks to @pedrito-friskito who cheered me on while writing and edited it for me, ilysm ❤️❤️❤️ happy holidays! ♡♡♡

my prompt was; mutual pining, home for the holidays.

A week until Christmas, excitement buzzes within the city, laughter and cheer booming within the square a large Christmas tree stands. But unlike the rest, you don’t feel a particular sense of excitement. Snow starts to fall and you walk quickly as you thread through the crowd. You’ve gotten groceries and a couple of decorations that tickled your fancy. You weren’t excited, but you weren’t sad either; you just didn’t have any special plans, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t be having a good time eating and watching your favorite holiday movies. 

You struggle to push open the door to your apartment, your arms weighed down by the heavy shopping bags, and you can feel your balance start to falter. You take a step forward, but before you know it, you're stumbling, your feet slipping out from under you on the smooth marble floor.

But before you can even think to cry out, you feel a pair of strong arms catch you, steadying you on your feet. You turn to see Frankie, your neighbor and the object of your long-standing crush, standing there with a concerned look on his face.

“Careful there, neighbor,” he says, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. "Are you okay?"

You nod, trying to compose yourself as you stand there, leaning against him for support. Frankie has always been a good friend, always there to lend a helping hand or a shoulder to lean on. But despite your close friendship, your feelings aged like a fine wine. 

You've had a crush on Frankie for months now, and while you've always assumed that he's not interested in you in that way, you can't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for something more between you. However, your previous attempts in trying to ask him out ended with failure; he was either too preoccupied with something to notice that you were asking him out, or he just assumed you meant it as a kind gesture. 

You either sucked at it or Frankie is the most oblivious person you know. Honestly, you assume it’s a little bit of both. 

“Do you want me to help you out with those?” he asks, gently pushing you up so you can stand on your own. 

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you…” 

He dismisses your worries with a wave of his hand, your eyes linger on the small bullseye tattoo he has between his thumb and forefinger. Whenever you see it you get the urge to press it like a button. 

“As you can see I have perfectly functional, empty, hands—It’s no trouble whatsoever,” 

Frankie leans forward and ignoring your protests, takes all of the grocery bags from your arms. You feel the brush of his fingers across your knuckles.  He smells of pine and mint, and it takes you all of your self-control to not bury your nose into the crook of his neck. Your eyes momentarily flutter close when he pulls away, your heart swelling in your chest. He begins to make his way up the stairs and you promptly follow. 

“You’re too kind, thank you,” you say wanting to make pleasant conversation. “Do you have any upcoming plans for Christmas?” 

Are you fishing for information? Absolutely. You just can’t help it.

You notice the way his muscles go rigid, a nervous laugh follows and he continues his way up the steps, each one echoing. “My mom and dad begged me to come over so I guess that’s my plan— Which is fine…I just haven’t seen them in a while,” 

This piques your interest and you want to ask more but Frankie is quick to change the subject. 

“What about you?” 

“You’re kinda carrying my Christmas plans,” 

Finally reaching your floor, he stops and looks down. He deadpans for a moment, considering what to say, which you find adorable. You grin at the way he nervously chews on his bottom lip, his gaze lifting up to meet yours. 

“Why do you look so worried?” you grin. “I’m actually quite excited to relax and spend some quality time with myself.” 

Frankie’s eyes drop to your lips, he mimics your expression, his smile soft and endearing. He hands you your groceries and nods. 

“That’s good, I’ll be leaving on the 24th so if you need anything by then feel free to come and knock on my door.” 

“Thanks, neighbor,” you answer, watching him walk towards his own apartment door. “I’ll see you later then.” 

With a sigh of relief, you drop the bags to the floor as soon as you close the door. Your back is pressed against the solid wood of the door, and you slide down slightly, your legs feeling weak and shaky after your run-in with the ever-faithful Frankie. You hate the fact that deep down you were hoping that he would be staying here too. It’s a silly thing to want, but you thought that maybe if he was going to stay too, you could’ve finally made your intentions clear. 

You let out a sharp laugh, and look up to the ceiling. Frankie is just a helpful guy, a nice and kind neighbor, and that’s probably how he sees you as well. A person he can come to to borrow salt and olive oil from time to time. 

Not wanting to wallow in self-pity, you pick up your groceries and head for the kitchen. Maybe you will take him up on his offer and give him a visit. You could be out of sugar perhaps? A perfect excuse to knock on his door. 

But as you stand there, holding the bag of sugar in your hand with the intention of putting it in the cupboard, you realize that your plan has a major flaw. Frankie saw your heaping pile of groceries, and he knows that you have more than enough sugar to last you a month.

You groan; finding a decent enough excuse is going to be harder than you thought. 

Frankie sits on the couch, the rough fabric scraping against his skin as he sinks into the cushions. The living room is scarcely decorated, the walls bare, and the only adornment is a sad-looking tree in the corner. He groans as he checks his phone once more to make sure he’s not dreaming; he sees the notification that his flight has been canceled due to the weather. Outside, the snow is falling heavily, the flakes visible even in the fading light. Frankie is positive he could fly in this weather. If he still had his pilot’s license. But he doesn’t, and even if he did, he would’ve needed a helicopter, which is something he obviously doesn’t have. 

He dreads the thought of calling his parents and canceling his trip, feeling like he's trapped in a cycle of disappointment. The room is getting darker by the minute.

But Frankie's frustration isn't just about the canceled flight. It's also about the fact that he hasn't seen his neighbor since the day he caught her almost falling down the stairs. He had thought there was a spark between them, a bit of heat, but maybe he completely misread the situation. Ever since the day he moved in, Frankie has been infatuated with her. She’s funny, kind, and even helped him move in a few boxes when he first arrived; the boys were late, and yet there she was, ready to offer a helping hand. 

He was ninety-nine percent sure that you would come knocking on his door. 

He sinks further into the couch, his shoulders slumped and brow furrowed. He’s an idiot. He feels defeated, annoyed, and most of all, lonely. 

Just as he's wallowing in self-pity, he hears a curse echoing from the apartment hallway and a series of loud bangs. He straightens his back, the taste of bile lays heavy on his tongue as the sounds continue. His first guess is that the sounds belong to an intruder. Silence fills his apartment, he stops breathing. 

A minute later, after a series of muffled grumbling, someone knocks on his door. His shoulders relax, muscles going limp as he stands up. When he opens the door he finds his neighbor standing there, teeth chattering and covered in snow.

Her eyes sparkle when she sees him, “You’re still here!” you gasp. “Thank god! Like the idiot that I am, I forgot my keys when I left this morning and now I’m locked out. Can you help me?” 

It takes Frankie a good amount of time before his brain starts to work again. You look so small hugging and rubbing yourself for warmth, looking up to him with hopeful eyes. He swallows, his throat feeling thick as he tries not to think about more unconventional ways to warm you up. 

“Frankie?” 

He blinks quickly, a breathless chuckle falling from his lips. If she wasn’t staring at him like a deer in headlight he would’ve slapped himself. “Y-Yeah of course—Just let grab my tools really quick.” 

Just as Frankie turns, he stills his movements and meets your gaze. 

“Would you like my jacket? It’s probably warmer than what you’re wearing right now. It might take me a while to get the door open.” 

When she nods he swears he hears his blood rushing down to his cock. Her—In his jacket? He isn’t a possessive man by all means, but the thought alone makes his fingers twitch and nostrils flare. Without saying another word, he quickly grabs his toolbox and one of his jackets, one that’s thick and plush.

Frankie can't help but feel a little bit guilty for being happy that she was locked out and had to turn to him for help.

You stand and watch Frankie work, and you can't help but be mesmerized by the way the dim hallway light seems to dance across his chiseled features. A hint of stubble shadows his jawline, giving him a rugged, masculine appearance that makes your heart race. His tongue peeks out from between his lips as he works, a small gesture that only serves to intensify the attraction you feel towards him.

You can smell him in his jacket, a heady mix of soap and pine that makes you feel hot just by staring at him. The way he expertly toys with the lock prompts you to shift on your feet, not really knowing what to do with yourself. You can barely concentrate on what he's saying as he tells you about his flight being canceled.

"I can't believe it," he says, clearly frustrated as he twists a screwdriver in the lock. "My folks were looking forward to spending time together, and now I'm stuck here."

"I'm sorry," you say, feeling a twinge of guilt, however, you’re not sure why. "If there's anything I can do to help, just let me know."

Frankie gives you a small smile as he continues to work. "Thanks," he says. "I appreciate it. It's just frustrating, you know? I feel like I'm stuck in this rut, and no matter what I do, things never seem to go my way."

"Hey, I know this is a long shot, but do you want to spend Christmas with me?" you ask suddenly, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you can even think about it.

Frankie's eyes go wide with surprise. "Really?" he says, looking skeptical.

You nod eagerly, feeling nervous at the way he’s looking at you. 

"Yes— I mean, you’re stuck here and I was already planning on spending it at home. And well…if you don’t mind watching cheesy movies with me I think it could be…fun?” 

Frankie looks down at his hands, seeming to think it over for a moment before looking back up at you with a smile. "I'd love to," 

"Awesome," you say, grinning back at him. "I'm excited. We can bake cookies, and just relax and enjoy each other's company."

“Cookies?” he asked with an amused smile. 

“It’s too late for you to run away now, you just said yes.” 

You grin at the way he laughs, his hand stilling as he tries to cover his mouth with the back of his hand. The sound alone makes you feel that it was worth it to lock yourself out. 

“Even if I wanted to run where would I go, cariño? I can’t go anywhere with the storm and I live right next to you.” 

You feel your cheeks grow warm at the endearment, your heart swelling in your chest.

You don’t believe in miracles, but this certainly feels like one. 

You and Frankie are both sitting on the couch. You realize he’s scanning your apartment, thus far having only seen the entrance. The living room is bursting with Christmas decorations, twinkling lights, and colorful ornaments adorning every surface. There's a small tree in the corner, its branches laden with tinsel and glittering balls. It's a cozy and welcoming sight, which was what you were going for.

"Wow, you really went all out," Frankie says, taking in the sight of the room with a smile. "It looks amazing."

"Thanks," you say, grinning back at him. 

Two mugs of hot cocoa topped with whipped cream stand on the coffee table. You sink down onto the cushions, pulling a warm blanket over both of your laps as you huddle close together. The room is dark and quiet, the only sound is the soft clink of your mugs as you take a sip.

"This is perfect," Frankie says, snuggling closer to you as he wraps his hands around his mug. "Much more stress-free. Is it bad that I’m not that mad anymore at my flight getting canceled?"

You can't help but laugh. "I think the hot cocoa might have gone to your head," you tease, nudging him playfully.

"Maybe," Frankie says with a grin. "But I stand by what I said. I'm lucky to be here with you."

You feel a warm glow spread through your chest at his words. You never expected to spend the holidays with someone as wonderful as Frankie. 

“I’m lucky too.” 

Silence follows your words and you take a sip of hot cocoa. There’s definitely sparks flying all around you, there’s no way you’re imagining the heat that is continually building. You cross your legs, your knee brushing agains his thigh. You desperately try to come up with a conversation topic, your eyes scanning the room for inspiration. 

However, all you can think of is how your knee still rests against his thick thigh, the way he effortlessly unlocked your door for you, and the way he laughed in the hallway. Your brain is screaming at you to just confess, tell him that ever since you laid eyes on his beautiful face that you’ve been smitten. 

But instead, you do something else. 

You do something stupid. 

You see his tattoo. 

And you press it, like a button— Luckily, you only make the boop sound internally. 

“What are you doing?” 

Frankie looks at you, reasonably, confused but smiling, his lips slightly curved up with one eyebrow raised. You open and close your mouth, only high-pitched noises leaving your lips. His gaze drops to where you’re still poking him, the tip of your finger still pressing into his inked skin. You swallow and quickly pull your hand back, wrapping it around the mug. 

“I–I–” you stutter, biting the inside of your cheek. “God, I’m sorry— It’s just I didn’t know what to say and I always wanted to press it—like a button– In my defense, people are programmed to press stuff they’re not supposed to—” 

You try to explain yourself in one breath, in the end, your lungs burn, your chest heaving as if you’ve been running a marathon. Frankie stares at you a beat longer, then he takes your mug from your hands and places both his and yours back on the coffee table. You think that he’s going to leave and that he thinks you’re crazy and will never speak to you again. 

He leans closer, his arm now resting against the back of the couch, fingertips brushing your shoulder. "It's okay," he says, his lips curving up in a smile. "I know what you meant. It's just a tattoo, no big deal."

"I'm sorry," you say, shaking your head. "I don't know what came over me. I just couldn't resist the urge anymore."

Frankie gives you a wink. "Well, I'm glad you didn't resist," he says. "I’m not gonna lie, I kinda liked it."

“You did?”

He nods. “I did.”

He’s very close, the space between you crackling with electricity. You find yourself looking at his lips, which he parts as his gaze meets yours. Your heart is pounding in your throat, the ringing in your ears almost deafening.

“Do you…” he swallows thickly, his palm now fully covering your shoulder. “Do you appreciate anything else?” 

The corners of your vision seem to darken as if you are looking at him through a filter. The lights from the Christmas tree shift, bathing the two of you in a warm red glow. Your stomach is tight with anticipation.

“I do,” you speak slowly, softly. 

“And what might that be?” 

“You,” 

“Yeah?” 

You can see literally sparkles in his eyes. His voice is light and hopeful, you’re not sure but you think he’s inching closer. You nod as you wet your lips. 

“Do you appreciate anything?” 

“I appreciate you.” 

His fingers touch your cheek, thumb moving to the corner of your lips. The skin he touches tingles, a sharp sensation that has warmth pooling between your legs. 

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," you breathe out, your eyes locked on his lips.

His fingers tighten around your shoulder, the bite of his nails sharp through the fabric of your shirt. A barely there moan escapes your lips, the anticipation of this moment finally coming to fruition too much to bear.

When his lips meet yours, you feel a wave of heat wash over you. The taste of hot cocoa is on his lips, rich and velvety, and you find yourself moaning even louder as you wrap your arms around his neck. You've been waiting for this moment for so long, and now that it's here, all pretense of self-control leaves you.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands roam over your body. Fire ignites within you, burning bright and hot, and you can't help but press closer to him. His touch is electric, leaving you dizzy and breathless, and you find yourself clinging to him as the kiss grows more and more intoxicating.

Finally, you pull back, gasping for air. You're left feeling dazed, your lips tingling and your body humming. You curse that you need oxygen to survive, you would much rather lock your lips with Frankie until death comes to claim you. 

Frankie isn’t doing any better than you, panting with swollen lips. His pupils eat away the color of his eyes, blown with arousal. 

“You really want this?” he asks, blinking as if he’s trying to convince himself this isn’t real. 

“Frankie, I’ve been wanting this since the first moment I laid my eyes on you,” you smile, touching the hand that still rests on your cheek. “I thought I was being obvious. I did ask you out, you know,” 

Frankie looks taken aback. "You did?" 

You nod, still smiling. "Yeah, I asked you out for coffee…then there was the time I tried to hint that I had too many leftovers and that I wished someone would join me…I hinted that I was free when you mentioned you had to go to Benny’s boxing match…"

You watch with delight as all the insistence you just mentioned strings together before his eyes. His mouth falls, his eyebrows lifting as his eyes go wide. 

“Oh shit. I’m…I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry, I genuinely had no idea. I– I also thought I was being obvious when I told you to come by if you needed anything. I wanted you to come over.” 

“Really?” you chuckle and touch your forehead. “I thought you were just being polite.” 

“I guess we both have to get better at this. So how about I take you out for dinner tomorrow when the weather clears up a bit?” 

“Does that mean I have to wait until then to kiss you again?” you ask, pouting and attempting at your best version of puppy dog eyes. 

Your eyes light up when he laughs. “Absolutely not, querida. Come here,” 

He spreads his legs as you move to straddle his lap, his hands drop to the curve of your ass. Squeezing, he guides you to roll your hips. The contact isn’t much, but your eyes still roll back at the drag of his length, already hard underneath his sweats. Your lips meet with desperation, your hands cradling the frame of his face as he forces you down against his lap. You whine into his mouth, nails grazing against his skin. Frankie licks the seam and pushes his tongue between your lips, every movement he makes is led by hunger. 

Your skin burns with his touch, hand guiding the sloppy roll of your hips, you grow wetter and wetter by every passing second. The lights turn blue, you notice the sharp lines of his face soften. 

“Frankie— Can we— Can you—” 

He drags his lips down to your neck, teeth gently nipping the front of your throat. A pleasant shudder overcomes your body, a blissful sigh dropping from your mouth. 

“Tell me what you need,” he murmurs, fingers playing with the waistband of your sweats. “I want to give it all to you. Whatever you need— My mouth, my fingers…my cock,” 

Your eyes flutter close, “Oh god,” 

He chuckles, tongue tasting the salt of your skin, his fingers dip under your waistband and gently caress the skin. You shiver. 

“But I can’t do any of that if you don’t tell me,” 

“I—I want it all,” 

His grin makes your stomach roll, “Greedy.” 

That’s all he says before helping you up and guiding you towards the… bathroom, in which you then guide him to the actual bedroom. You’re still giggling about it as you’re falling to the bed, the weight of Frankie’s body soon following. 

“Very suave,” you say, his lips leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “You fuck all your neighbors in the bathroom?” 

“It was a mistake,” he growls, but his tone is playful. “But if we’re being honest, I’m not above fucking you in every room of this apartment,” 

The series of images your brain provides are downright sinful. You tremble, legs closing around his waist, hs grins is wide when he leans down and nips at your chin. 

“You like that?” he coos. “Maybe that can be my gift to you? Would you like that, bebita. Me, fucking you in every corner— Your pussy dripping and making a mess of the hardwood floors—” He cuts himself with a sharp inhale, a moan following. Frankie laughs and shakes his head, avoiding your gaze. “I think I turned myself on too much. You were supposed to be the only one affected,” 

“Well, I am definitely affected. If that helps,” 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” 

You blink with surprise, lips parting with a gasp. Before you can even process his words, or say something in return, Frankie's hands are on your waist, his fingers deftly pulling at your shirt.

You feel a rush of excitement as he undresses you quickly, his hands moving with a sense of purpose. Your clothes fall away from your body, becoming a pile on the floor. You watch as Frankie undresses, his muscles soft but there, his stomach rounded and perfect for kissing. 

He slowly moves down from your chest to your stomach, his facial hair tickling you as he moves. He cups and squeezes both your breasts, lips leaving wet kisses across your mound. Your pussy drools with anticipation, the inside of your thighs a glistening mess by the time Frankie drags his tongue between your folds. You clench around nothing at the way he groans, tongue moving up and down your sex. His fingers dig into your thighs, forcing your legs up his broad shoulders. 

Frankie latches his lips, tongue flicking over your clit again and again. Your moans come out choked and garbled, your legs trembling as you accidentally dig your heels into his back. You fist his hair, the knots in your stomach tightening when he moves his lips around, and you see a glimpse of a shine coating them. You hold your breath when he looks up, soft brown looking filtered, and he dives back in, swirling and flicking his tongue as he loudly sucks and gulps— you can hear him swallow eagerly, and your head falls back to the pillows. 

You lose yourself in the bliss, the sin of it all making you willing to die at the touch of his lips. His tongue, his mouth, the sting of his nails against your skin— It all snowballs and crashes into you, building and building until you can’t contain it anymore. You vaguely hear him whispering between every lick of his tongue, you pull at his hair again, his muffled voice now clearer. 

“You taste so good,” he says, words slurring. “So fucking good— You’re gonna feel amazing around my cock, so warm and— fuck— wet,” 

“Frankie—” You lift your hips, your body desperately seeking his mouth. “Please, need to come. Please please please,” 

“I got you, sweetheart, don’t worry. You’re doing so good, so so good,” You feel his breath on your wet pussy, you squeal and squirm. “Say it. I wanna hear it.” 

“Wha—What?” 

You’re completely out of it. You manage to lift your head to meet his gaze, your neck feeling strained. He’s looking directly into your eyes, a ghost of a smile cheating at his lips. 

“Repeat it,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing on earth. “Say that you’re doing so good for me,” 

“I’m…I’m,” you swallow and breathe out from your nose. “I’m doing so good for you, so so good,” 

You don’t expect the wave of arousal that washes over you, Frankie hums and presses his lips into you once more and draws your aching clit into his mouth. You repeat it again, a series of ‘so, so good’s coming out slurred. Your head falls back; you are doing good. So good. Frankie’s tongue feels like velvet, heaven between his lips. 

You just can’t take it anymore. 

You come with a cry, his name coming out sheer from your throat. Without meaning to you press him into you, he doesn’t seem to mind— In fact, it looks like it edges him on because he moves his mouth faster, almost frenzied. Your head spins, cunt gushing and flooding his mouth. Your body becomes rigid, then limp. You fall back to the bed, legs falling and arms feeling lifeless. Frankie kisses your pussy, the sensation of his lips gentle and comforting. 

“How was it?” he asks, his face coming into view. 

“That was great,” you breathe out a chuckle, still feeling disoriented. “You have quite the mouth on you,” 

“Hmmm, I bet yours is better,” Frankie leans in and gives you a quick kiss, nuzzling your neck. “What are your thoughts about part two?” 

“I think I need to catch my breath first,” 

Frankie chuckles, his breath tickles your skin and you smile. 

“I did promise I would fuck you in every room.” 

[deandoesthingstome]

Night Moves

Chapter 9 (Finale)

Pairing: Walter Marshall x OFC (Alexandra Pierce)

Series Summary: When Walter Marshall is called to investigate a homicide by the railroad tracks, he quickly uncovers an unsettling pattern. Alexandra Pierce just wants someone to find out what happened to her friend. She has some secrets, too. And Walter’s going to uncover them.

Word Count: 1892 (it's a short-but-sweet ending)

A/N: I wanted this Walter to be a bit more feral during the series, but the ordeal Alex went through would not permit it during this part of their relationship. I certainly hope no one feels let down.

Series Warnings: In general, this series will depict assault, murder, stripping, hooking, rough sex, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), p in v sex in various positions, self-loathing, failed relationships, smoking, alcohol, general violence, and maybe some comfort. +18, Minors DNI. Edit: If you were here before, know that I removed drug use and drug addiction, as well as makeup sex. I had a plan and things changed, as they so often do.

Chapter Warnings: Oral sex (m and f receiving), flashback make-out session, extremely harmless possessiveness, missionary with abandon, saccharine sweet fluff.

Disclaimers: I do not own Walter Marshall, Night Hunter (Nomis), or any other characters from that movie, but I do own this OFC (Alexandra Pierce) and these words. Do not repost as your own. Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are more than welcome. It’s how I get my nourishment.

Header made by me, with pics found from Pexel.com and the internet. Dividers are not mine, but check out the masterlist for credit.

Playlist:  Night Moves Song 30 Direct Spotify Link; NOTE: I also added the rest of the main songs I listened to while writing this story. They all feed the atmosphere in one way or another, but I never found a good chapter segment for them. One exception: Song 31 is an alternative to Walter's shower scene in Chapter 4.

Masterlist

The first time Alex puts her mouth on Walter’s cock since her nightmare it’s all he can do not to come right then and there. 

Okay it isn’t exactly the first time her mouth has been on his cock since the bandages came off, but he doesn’t really count the tender pecks she gave him after peeking her pretty pink tongue out to wet her lips. That wasn’t really her mouth, it was just her lips. Okay, and her tongue. The tip of her tongue. Yeah, she had slipped that out and licked the head of his shaft. And, yeah, it wasn’t just the tip. He definitely recalls the way she flattened her tongue against him and dragged her spit up and down his cock a few times.

But what Alex hasn’t been able to do until tonight is open her mouth wide and slide the bulbous head between her lips, letting her tongue drag hot and wet along the underside while she holds him firm in her hand. And it’s the way she stares up at him from her spot on her knees in front of him that takes Walter right back to that first time and the way she had practically begged him for it.

She had wanted him to tell her what to do, when to do it, how. She had ached for his power and that was what had made him almost come in her mouth immediately that first time and that is exactly what is making it hard for him not to come in her mouth right now.

He knows she’s still going to take it slow. And as hard as it was for her to take him as deep as he wanted her to that first time, it’s exponentially harder for her to do that now. She’s been in physical therapy three or four times a week for almost two months and she did tell him she specifically asked about this activity and received the go ahead along with a few cautions. So he’s content with just the tip in her mouth and ecstatic she is so eager to deepen the connection of their relationship.

Not that Walter is ever going to complain about the amount of pussy he gets to eat, because what is life without that pleasure? He would spend all day and night between her legs if he could somehow get the city of Minneapolis or the university to pay for it. He relishes the sweet nectar he gathers from her delicate flower. Savors every drop.

And when Alex signals she has had enough, which is always way too soon for his taste, he luxuriates in the way his dick slides effortlessly inside her, while still filling her completely, stretching her wide, so she is squeezing around him, pulsing and hot.

Walter could hover over her forever, driving his cock into her again and again, deeper and harder and faster, in whatever way she begs him for. Or lay below her, holding on to her hips while she slow grinds her own self to orgasm. Or bounce her up and down with all the force he can muster. Whatever it takes to make her come hard around him, moaning his name as loudly as she can manage.

So when Alex takes his cock in hand after he pushes her to the floor and tells her to take him out and put him in her mouth, she obliges gladly and he wants to explode. He holds on long enough to keep up the tough guy act, the one that had her squirming in her seat while he teased her about the way that guy at the bar was watching her.

Walter had clocked him the minute they walked in for a quick drink after work before getting ready for their dinner date. And if Alex hadn’t told him right outside the door that she needed to pee immediately, he wouldn’t have let her race ahead of him so that it was almost impossible for anyone who didn’t already know they were together to tell. And so the guy had watched her rush to the hall leading to the bathrooms and he had watched to see her come back out and head his way, towards the bar.

Walter had watched him straighten up just a little, puff out his chest, cock his head and shift a bit on the stool. Alex was waiting to pick up the drinks they always drank together at this bar while Walter held the table in the corner they would always sit at so he could keep an eye on the people. He could see the way the guy had bent over toward Alex and offered his hand and he just knew the guy was asking what she was drinking. 

And when the bartender dropped two glasses in front of her without even asking for her order, he could see the guy’s face drop just a bit. But he recovered, Walter could tell, as if he decided the glasses must be for her and a friend. And Walter could see the way the guy was just this close to thinking he might even be lucky enough to bag a threesome with Alex and her friend until she picked up the glasses and wished him a good night without any hint of flirtation and headed over to their table. 

At which point the guy could now see the friend wasn’t who he thought it was and seeing his chances at one woman, let alone two, for the night dashed by a grumpy-looking bearded and curly haired man, he quickly slapped a twenty on the bar and hit the head. Walter was secretly glad the guy hadn’t just left the bar altogether, because otherwise how could he have leaned over to whisper in Alex’s ear when the guy came out of the restroom to resume his prowling along the tiny dance floor near the jukebox, asking her if she’d noticed the way that guy at the bar had watched her pretty ass.

And of course he knew she knew the guy had been checking her out, but she played a little innocent and whispered back that there was no way she could see what was going on behind her and was he jealous anyway?

She loved to rile him up this way. Loved it when he grabbed the seat of her chair and pulled her a little closer, put his hand on her nape gently and rubbed his thumb up and down the side of her neck in a subtle sign of possessiveness. It drove her positively mad and he knew she’d be dripping before they ever left the bar. It wasn’t that Walter ever for even one second believed she’d be interested in that guy or any other guy for that matter. It was just a way to remind each other that nothing would ever compare, a way to ensure that he would show her just who she belonged to later while she did exactly the same for him.

When she pulls off him, he knows she’s had enough and he isn’t asking her for more of her mouth on his cock because he knows she needs to save her strength for the way he’s going to kiss her once he’s done slipping his tongue between her legs and nipping at her clit and shoving a few fingers deep inside her so she’s begging, pleading, aching for release.

Before she’s even done pulsing he’s hauling himself up her body, kissing every inch of skin he can manage, reveling in the way she moans and gasps trying to catch her breath while he drags his lips and beard over her body. He has no problem sliding his rock-hard cock deep inside her, pushing past the hot clench of her pussy even as he pauses at one of her pebbled nipples so he can catch it between his teeth and tease her with nips and bites and licks. He palms at the other breast and without looking up knows she’s tilted her head down to stare at the way his fingers press into her flesh.

He’s never going to get over the way this woman yields for him. She’s so tough, a warrior even. She fought for her life, fought to regain her independence, fought to heal herself. And through it all she did him the honor of letting him stand by her side and accepted every last ounce of his support without question.

Walter never had to convince her that he knew she could do it alone and he never had to convince her that he really wanted to be there with her. Alex just knew.

He wants to kiss her mouth while he’s fucking into her but he knows it’ll be too much so he contents himself with staring into her eyes and telling her how well she’s taking him, how hot and wet she feels, how he can feel her pulsing around him and opening for him. He watches as she blushes with pride and pleasure, bites her bottom lip to keep the primal scream in while he takes a few final strokes and finally moves in the way he knows will hit just the right spot and fights to keep his eyes open so he can watch her come apart with him.

It isn’t until after he’s dropped himself on top of her and nuzzled into her neck for a moment while he catches his breath, then rolled to the side and tugged her so she’s snug against him, that he puts his hand against her cheek with care and leans in to press his lips against hers. He glides the tip of his tongue along her bottom lip and catches the top lip between his own in a sweet sincere kiss, a sharp contrast to the hedonistic way she had just let him drill into her.

Walter lets her decide when and for how long she’s going to deepen this kiss with him. Alex knows her limits and he trusts she only holds back when she thinks it’s too much physically, never emotionally. She never holds back her emotions from him. She lets him in on every post-traumatic feeling she has and makes sure he never questions why she sometimes asks for space to process everything that happened to her.

And she also makes space for him to heal. Lets him come to terms with his part in it and makes sure he knows she never once blamed or held him responsible for any of it. She lets him know that no matter what had happened to her, the whirlwind of feelings that had begun so soon after their first meeting hadn’t died down or shifted or been tied to the troublesome events in her mind.

He doesn’t quite want to leave this bed, but he also knows they only have a finite amount of time before they need to be in the shower so they can dry off and dress and head out for dinner. He has plans and he will not see them dashed, though he’d gladly stay in bed and enjoy her again. It’s just he already arranged to have Angie drop Faye off at the restaurant.

And Faye will be waiting with the ring.

Taglist: (If you asked for a tag and it’s not here, Tumblr likely isn’t letting me tag you. Ask if you want me to try again - though this story is over.)

Anything: @kittenofdoomage @fvckinghenrycavill @mayloma @sillyrabbit81 @kebabgirl67 @beck07990  @itsrubberbisquit​ (Also throwing in a few from the old days for old times sake ;) @littlegreenplasticsoldier​ @anotherwinchesterfangirl @sebbytrash​ @feelmyroarrrr​)

NM: @enchantedbytomandhenry​ @kingliam2019​ @henryownsme​ @littlefreya​  @marantha​ @angelcavill66​ @sweetdreamsofgelato​ @jeremyrennermakesmesmile​ @liveoncoffeeandflowersss​ @greensleeves888​ @dinoswierdmom​ @geralts-yenn​ @wabi-sabi1090​ @bourbonwithice​

[quite-right-too]

Dona Nobis Pacem (Grant Us Peace) - Chapter Four

Summary: After preparing for the arrival of her new housemates, the last thing Rose expected was for one of them to be the man whose flat she had snuck out of the night before. Shoutout to @demdifferentstories-29 for being feral with me last night as we fucked around with this chapter a ton. This one was a lot of fun to write and just add little tidbits into.

Read here on AO3

The days went on and their friendship blossomed further. Hand holding became automatic, especially when sitting together on the couch. They were very tactile, with Rose pushing on his chest whenever he made a particularly bad joke or James wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to him while they strolled around town as she showed him around.

Movie nights would lead to them being so close that Rose could feel James’ heartbeat — usually as they laid on the sofa lengthwise so they could see the television better, her back against his chest while she was situated between his legs. His arms were usually enveloped around her and his head rested on her shoulder.

Jack and Donna had definitely begun to take notice. Jack had started to tease him regarding his lingering gaze whenever Rose walked into the room. Banter from Donna usually included remarks of, ‘Head up in the clouds, Spaceman?’ and, ‘Bloody hell, just ask her out already!’ followed by a smack on the shoulder.

A routine had also begun to form — Rose would find James in the library and would join him on the couch. Sometimes they would read separate books, but he had recently offered to read to her. Rose knew she would be an idiot to turn down that chance with him. So here they were in the library, cuddling next to each other with her head against his shoulder as James read aloud And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie.

“Agatha Christie! I love her stuff! What a mind,” he had declared as he pulled the classic book from the shelf. “She fools me every time. Well, almost every time. Well, once or twice. Well, once. But it was a good once.” 

His ramblings were endearing to her. She adored the spark in his eyes that he got when he talked about something he was passionate about. The smile on his face when she listened, asking questions and allowing him to elaborate more on the subject. There was no lack of topics, either — he always had something he could share with and teach her about. Even if she didn’t fully understand, she loved to hear his voice.

She loved him.

She had never felt this way with Jimmy. She had started dating him when she was sixteen and regretted it every second after they had broken up. He hadn’t been a romantic, never even taking Rose on a date once in the two years they dated.

“‘... Vera had followed Mrs. Rogers upstairs. The woman had thrown open a door at the end of a passage and Vera had walked into a delightful bedroom with a big window that opened wide upon the sea and another looking east. She—’ Rose, are you alright?” His question pulled her from her thoughts. 

“Me? Yeah, I’m alright. Just thinking,” she said softly. Rose moved her head off his shoulder, offering him a small smile. He could see through her facade and raised his eyebrow. “Okay, fine. ‘M just remembering my last relationship and how awful he was to me. We never did anything like this,” she murmured, gesturing to the intimate position they found themselves in.

James’ head cocked, brow now furrowing. “What happened, if I may ask?” He set the bookmark in the book, shutting and setting it on the coffee table. His hand went to hold hers and she couldn’t help but open up to him.

“His name was Jimmy,” she started. “He was twenty, I was sixteen. He was a self-proclaimed musician with a guitar who travelled around London busking on the street.” Rose rolled her eyes as she remembered how much of an idiot he was. “He seemed so charming, but his personality changed after I’d run away from home and moved in with him. He kept me from my friends and family, trying to convince me that my mum was the bad guy after she had called and begged for me to come home.”

“Oh, Rose,” James sighed, squeezing her hand. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s in the past. He just…” Rose trailed off, trying to find the best way of explaining her thoughts without revealing her true feelings for him. “He never did anything nice like this. Never really cuddled with me or spent actual time with me. I never—” She cut herself off, staring into his eyes and glancing down at his lips. His face was so close to hers now and he was right there with her, looking at her like she meant everything.

“You never what?” James questioned, his breath light against her lips. Her own breath hitched as she watched his tongue come out to wet his lips, his chocolate eyes impossibly dark.

“Just…” She couldn’t even come up with an answer. He was right there and looked so kissable. He began to lean in as his eyes fluttered closed. 

‘He’s finally going to kiss me properly,’ Rose thought excitedly. Their noses brushed against each other as heat pooled in their stomachs.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

They jumped apart, and Rose mentally cursed whoever was on the other side of the door.

“Rosie, you in there?” Jack called out. “I need your help with grocery shopping. The list is long and I refuse to do this by myself.”

Rose sighed and straightened herself, standing up and walking over to the entryway. 

“Coming!” she growled, trying to keep her cool while mouthing ‘sorry’ to James, whom she had left sitting on the couch. As the door closed behind her, he groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. He was so close to feeling her lips on his.

The tension building between them was becoming unbearable for James. He found himself regularly taking cold showers and tinkering on his projects to distract himself from the burning ache that regularly appeared after interactions with Rose. 

This time was different, though.

He knew he was alone, with Donna at work and Jack and Rose at the store. He quickly ran up the staircase to his bedroom and slammed the door closed. The door was locked, just as a precaution, and he quickly pulled his shirt off and his trousers down his legs. 

“God, Rose,” he moaned, easing the waistband of his pants down to expose his hard length.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the night they met. How he drunkenly took her back to his flat. Seeing her naked for the first — and so far only — time on his bed. Well, not really his bed but it didn’t matter.

Sitting at the bar, James shot back another round of whiskey as the low bass of the music emanated from the speakers around him. The pub was dark aside from several small strobe lights illuminating the open area where people were dancing. He could barely hear himself think with all the noise.

Drinking at bars wasn’t necessarily something he took up often, but it was one of those nights. The thoughts of war swirling through his head recently had him walking on eggshells since he got home.

He was here to have fun, which he had to remind himself multiple times throughout the night. Even if that meant having multiple shots and getting a bit plastered. Tapping his glass on the surface, he got the attention of the woman behind the bar and she made her way over to pour him another shot.

A blonde woman called the bartender over, requesting another drink. Even in the low light, James could tell that her smile lit up rooms. Her top showed off plenty of skin and the tight jeans accentuated her nice arse. 

Blimey, she was gorgeous. 

And he wanted her.

She met his hungry gaze with a tongue-in-teeth smile before turning and disappearing into the crowd of clubbers. Not wasting another second wallowing in his head, James swallowed his fourth and final shot and made his way out onto the dance floor. His eyes darted around the bodies, looking for the mystery woman who now had all of his attention.

After bumping into multiple people, he finally found her. Her eyes were dark, full of passion and arousal and need. He needed to forget his past and somehow this brilliant woman wiped all thoughts except the ones of her. His feet moved to her before he even realised.

“Care to dance?” he asked with a smirk, holding out his hand. The woman’s eyes twinkled as she grinned. Taking his hand, she pulled him impossibly close, moulding her body to his.

“I’d love to.”

The music wasn’t traditional dancing music, but rather booming noise that had just enough rhythm to move your body to. The golden-haired goddess turned around and ground against him, her back to his chest. James moved his hands down to her hips, gripping tightly and keeping her against him. The growing tension between them was evident, hanging like thick smoke in the air.

As they danced, he pulled her against him as his hands wandered around her waist, down to the arse he had been admiring, and skirting just under her breasts. He grinned against her neck as she moaned, feeling it reverberate through his chest. His hips rutted against her, letting her feel the growing arousal in his trousers.

Reluctantly, she pulled herself from his grasp. She must have seen the panic in his eyes because she grabbed his hand with a mischievous look, leading him off the dance floor and towards the dark corner leading to the bathrooms. As soon as they were tucked away, she pushed James against the wall and snogged him, her hands threading themselves through his hair.

He kissed back enthusiastically, pulling her back to him — needing to feel someone close to him tonight. Their sloppy, drunken kisses continued for a few more minutes before James pulled away. 

“Would you want to take this back to my place?” he panted harshly, begging the universe for the answer he wanted.

“God, yes. Please?”

The cab ride back to his flat wasn’t long, but it felt like ages as they struggled to keep their hands off of each other. However, he didn’t plan on shagging her in the backseat of this stranger’s car. Thankfully, they pulled up to his flat and James handed the cabbie two twenty pound notes and murmured to keep the change, too focused on the woman in front of him who wanted nothing more than to get naked with him.

Fumbling with his keys, they finally made it into the flat. He slammed the door behind them, thankful that Donna was out on girl’s night and would definitely be staying at her friend’s flat until the morning. 

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” he growled, pulling her along with him. Cardboard boxes turned the flat into a maze, making it difficult to tell which room was which, especially in the dark. 

This was his last night in this flat — he intended to make it go out with a bang.

As soon as they made it into his room, they began divesting themselves of their clothes. James pulled his t-shirt off, revealing his bare chest. The woman in front of him, now wearing just a bra, walked up to him and ran her nails through his chest hair. He smiled, leaning down into another searing kiss. Her deft fingers went to work on his belt, undoing it and the button on his trousers before dipping her hand under the waistband and teasing him through his pants, eliciting a low groan from him.

He didn’t have any furniture aside from the mattress on the floor, everything having been moved out into the living room to make it easier for the movers to get out to the truck. He did, however, have sheets on the mattress — he wasn’t an animal. The room simply had moving boxes all over and the blinds were covering his window.

“These need to come off,” he whispered into her mouth, hands moving to tug at her jeans. While she stepped back and finished undressing, James worked on getting his trainers and trousers off. He was pleased to look up and see that she was naked, save for her knickers. Shit, she was beautiful.

Sauntering up to him, the blonde bit her lip as he removed the final piece of clothing, revealing his cock, hard and leaking with precome as he stared at the gorgeous before him. 

“Looks like someone’s ready,” she laughed, pushing him lightly towards the mattress and gesturing for him to lay down. As he did so, he grabbed her hand, pulling her down with him.

“Lay on your back,” he demanded. He watched her thighs clench, the boldness she had fading away as she did what she was told. The dirty smile on her face as James crawled over her drove him wild. Pulling her knickers off her legs, he tossed them away. One of his hands trailed up her thigh as he urged her to open her legs for him to settle between. “God, I need you.”

She froze for a second, sitting up. “Wait, are you clean? Because I don’t have any condoms. ‘M on the pill but I—”

He immediately stopped, sitting up and gently looking her over. “I’m clean,” he reassured her, offering a small smile. “I don’t have any condoms, so if you’re not comfortable with this, we can stop. I can call you a cab and—” She shut him up with a kiss, leaning back and opening her legs so he could continue. A quiet growl rumbled through his chest as he slotted himself between her thighs.

“I want this. I want you. Please, just fuck me.” Her hand reached between them, grabbing his cock and running it through her wetness. They both groaned at the contact, James’ hips stuttered, causing him to slide between her lips. “Fuck, do that again,” she gasped, arms wrapping around his back as he repeated the movement.

He couldn’t wait any longer. “Ready?” he asked lowly, positioning himself at her entrance. She nodded, hands moving across his back and into his hair. James hissed at the contact, pushing in and feeling how tight she was. “Shit.” His head spun, reminding him that he was still a bit inebriated. He paused after sheathing himself in her, forehead dropping down to her shoulder as he gave her the moment to adjust and used the time to regain his bearings.

After a moment, he felt her relax and felt like he wouldn’t fall over. He tentatively pulled out, thrusting in with a little more speed. Her nails dug into his back as he repeated the movement. The only emotion he could see on her face was pleasure, allowing himself to give into his primal urges. 

“What do you want, huh?” His words were low as he thrust into her again, lascivious grin on his face as he felt her lift her hips to meet his.

“I want you to fuck me. Hard, fast, rough, just— Oh—” She choked out a moan as James wrapped his arms around her torso and set a pounding rhythm, cock hitting that perfect spot inside her that made her see stars. “Oh, fuck! Yes, like that!” Satisfaction filled him as he kept up the brutal pace, feeling the heat in his belly begin to coil. 

“Shit, ‘m close,” he grunted into her neck. All he had to do was hold out until she came. Then he felt her walls flutter around him as all he could think of was filling her.

“Me too, please. Just a little more,” she moaned. “Please, please, please.” Her words were like a prayer and he was her god. Who was he to deny this woman the one thing he wanted as well?

As he continued to fuck her, so dirty and rough, her thighs tighted around his as her back arched. James felt her tighten around his cock as she let out a scream of immense pleasure, coming hard. He couldn’t hold back, hammering himself into her as he let out a shout, crashing over the edge with her and filling her with his come.

“God, Rose,” he gasped as his hand wrapped around his cock, tugging furiously as he chased his release. He thought about how she felt around him, hearing her moans as she begged him to fuck her. It didn’t take long before his breathing began to labour as he got close. “Shit, I’m gonna—-”

With a long moan, he came all over his bare stomach. His vision whited out, his all-consuming thoughts of Rose leaving him floating. It was a couple of minutes before he could compose himself to clean up the mess he made and toss some clothes back on. After wiping his stomach with some tissues and putting a clean pair of pants back on, he figured he would just lay down for a bit. 

‘Only fifteen minutes,’ he told himself.

James was startled awake by the sound of the front door opening. The clock ticking away above his door showed that he had been in his room for nearly an hour. Right as he found himself to be presentable, he heard Jack cursing as he dropped a bag of groceries. Then his favourite sound followed — Rose laughing. He quickly rushed down the stairs, careful not to slip, to help Rose bring the groceries in.

“Hey! Glad to see that the troops have been rallied,” Rose chuckled as he entered the main room. James couldn’t help but grin at her joke as he reached out to take the bags from her.

“Here,” he offered, “let me help you with those.” Handing him the bags, she squeezed his bicep in thanks, letting her hand trail down his arm as she turned to grab more bags from the car. He turned bright red, swallowing hard and moving to set the groceries down in the kitchen. Jack noticed immediately, looking between the man in front of him and Rose, who had just made it out the door. 

“Oh, man,” he laughed, following James and setting his own bags down on the dinner table. “You’re really down bad, aren’t you? Well, good, because Rose is a catch.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denied, giving a small sniff and refusing to meet Jack’s eyes.

“I think you know exactly,” the American enunciated with a poke to James’ chest, “what I’m talking about. You like her.” Jack took a step back, crossing his arms and looking James up and down. “And you’re exactly her type, too.”

“I am?” he asked hopefully before cursing, realising his cover had been blown.

“I knew it!” Jack exclaimed, grinning wildly. James rushed to shush him. 

“Be quiet!” He frantically looked over his friend’s shoulder, making sure Rose was still occupied outside. “Okay, maybe I do like her. But I don’t have a chance, Jack.”

Jack smacked him on the back, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure you do, especially after Rosie and I had a little chat in the car about you. Just shoot your shot, James. You’re a good guy.” And with that, Jack walked out to grab the last of the groceries, leaving a slack-jawed James in the kitchen.

Maybe I do like her. That was all he said to Jack, trying his best to keep his feelings under wraps. There was no denying his feelings, but the real question was did Rose like him back? ‘I don’t like her,’ he thought. ‘I bloody love her.’

[jadejedi]

Romance Book Review: Red, White, and Royal Blue (Casey McQuinston)

JJ’s rating: 5/5

How feral did it make me: 4/5

My book reviews

I have been seeing a lot of negativity around this book and the movie for a while now, and that has made me want to review this book. I will say it’s been a couple of years since I’ve read it last, but I have read it multiple times. The first time I read it I literally could not put it down; I had the audiobook and the ebook so I could read wherever I was lol. 

I genuinely love this book. I think it is a great romance novel and I LOVE Alex and Henry so so much. I think a lot of the negativity is coming from a couple of places. First of all: the politics. Yes, you heard it here folks: the gay rom-com known as Red, White, and Royal Blue is not the next “Communist Manifesto”. Shocking, I know. But McQuinston was clearly not trying to write something politically revolutionary?? So, I don’t understand why that is being held against this book. From my understanding, they wrote this book after the 2016 election as a way of coping, essentially. To me, it is not at all different from something like Parks and Recreation, which is easily as much of a liberal utopia as RWRB. I said this in my review of Victoria Goddard’s The Hands of the Emperor, and I’ll say it here: not every work of fiction needs to have a radical political statement. Even if it features politics. It’s okay to have a book that is just about two young men falling in love against this dramatic political backdrop. Is it a bit cringe? Maybe?? But who cares!!! What isn’t cringe these days?? God. Also, it’s not like this book paints a super pretty picture of the monarchy in particular.

Sure, it's escapism, but so what?? What's wrong with a bit of escapism?

I think the other place some of the negativity is coming from is from the crowd who kind of wants to police what is and isn’t “good queer representation”. If a work isn’t “good enough” (i.e. doesn’t resonate with them personally) they will decry it as “bad representation”. I saw this happen with Simon vs. the Homosapien’s Agenda and the movie, Love, Simon. Like those works, I have occasionally seen RWRB condemned as sort of gay fiction for straight people. As if there is only one way to be queer. As if there is only one queer story. I acknowledge our need for a wide range of experiences portrayed in the media, but to say that we as a society no longer have a need for coming out stories is a bold fucking claim to be perfectly honest. RWRB was one of the first queer romance books I read, and it really meant a lot to me at the time, and continues to do so. I think that there is value in portraying both Alex’s journey of self-discovery and Henry’s journey of realizing that he doesn’t have to be unhappy in his life, that he deserves to be able to openly love who he loves. 

So, with all of that out of the way, here’s the summary. Alex Claremont-Diaz is the son of the first female president of the USA and she is about to be up for reelection. Alex is widely beloved, he’s got a bright future in politics ahead of him, and everything seems to be going his way. Except he keeps getting put in the path of his nemesis, the younger Prince of England, Prince Henry. Henry, who is so cold and uppity and standoffish and Alex is definitely not attracted to him. Nope. Not a bit. 

This book has everything you want in a romance book. Lovable characters, leads with genuine chemistry, lots of heart and emotion, a good dose of humor, and LOVE LETTERS. And HISTORICAL LOVE LETTERS. God. Even though, as I said above, this book is not a revolutionary political story, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t deal with deep and interesting topics. It deals with multicultural relationships, what it means to have a legacy and how much we get to dictate what that legacy is, and some of the realities of being a queer person in the public eye. 

I love this book, and I think if you are a romance reader or just love a good queer romance with a genuinely happy ending, this is the book for you.

[always-andromeda]

I love your writing!! Can I request some Simon Feck x reader? Maybe they’re on an assignment together so they share a sleeper room on the train he was on in the movie, and oh nooo he starts crushing on the reader.. and then…… things happen… but he’s sooooo awkward and shy so he’s just a stuttering mess for most of it >:))

Together Again | Simon Feck x fem!Reader

Simon Feck x fem!Reader

Word Count | 1,412

Author's Note | ummmm, so, OOPS, sorry anon, if this delineates from your fluffy confession fantasy...but I went kind of feral with this concept and it turned into a BEAST.

Warnings | smut (MDNI), masturbation, handjobs (male and female receiving), nothing else I can think of!

Simon recreates your face smiling up at him with his perfect mind. He catches the way your teeth part slightly as you try to speak, the slow blink as you process his words. He can pretend that he'd just told you how he felt. Against his better judgment, he pulls himself out of his sweatpants and tugs softly on his semi-hard cock.

The gentle hum of the train lulls him into a slow rhythm. Lying in bed and circling the image around his head, he tries not to think about how you’re asleep in the bunk just above him. The sleeper cabin is small, yes, but large enough that he can put up a wall between imaginary you and the real you.

You'd kiss him. Wait. No. You'd grab his collar and pull him down. Your hand would caress his cheek. You'd stare into his eyes lovingly. And then you'd kiss him. And it would be perfect. He'd kiss you back like he'd done it more than the one time he'd been kissed during his university days. And you'd moan. You'd tell him he's such a good kisser.

You hear Simon groan below you.

"Simon?" 

Then there’s a strangled gasp.

Since it's your job to protect him, you jump at the sound, immediately shifting to hang your head down from the top bunk. But as soon as he's in your sight, you realize pretty quickly he's not in any sort of danger. For a few seconds you watch him stroke his pink cock. Watch him bite on his bottom lip, eyes scrunched closed, and brows lowered to focus on the torturous pace he's putting himself through. 

"Uh, Simon?"

Finally, his eyes shoot open. Hyperventilating within seconds, he's the weirdo. The touch starved freak that gets taunted when a simple make out in college made him nearly cream his jeans.

He rushes to cover himself and sputters out, "I'm so sorry. I had--"

"What were you thinking about?"

He can't tell you what was running through his wishful imagination.

"Were you thinking about me?" you question with sincerity. "I-it's okay if you were. You could've just...told me."

Frozen in place, Simon can't even fathom what you just said to him. He doesn't even have the time to begin to process it before you're climbing down the little ladder and sitting at the foot of his bed between his legs.

You poke his leg, "Talk to me. Please." Your shining eyes pierce through him in the dark.

He mutters, "I was thinking about you."

"Yeah? What was I doing?"

"Uhhh, kissing me."

You giggle once, "That's it?"

Simon nods swiftly, hoping that gives him an extra point for not being as gross as he could've been.

But you crawl up the length of him, lips only a few inches from his own as you whisper, "I could make that a reality."

"Please," he begs. You kiss him softer than that girl in college had kissed him. And your hand goes to clutch his chin, tilting his head so the kiss deepens. He doesn't remember how to do this in the slightest. So he closes his eyes and tries to regulate his breathing. When your tongue brushes against his bottom lip, he opens his mouth immediately, letting your warm tongue explore his mouth.

His erection quickly returns with the way the sheets brush over him and you feel it press against your stomach.

Pulling away, you breathe out, "Can I touch you?"

Simon squeaks out, "Sure, whatever you want."

You grin and lean back so you can pull the sheet away. The sight makes you burn up inside. The sweet, pink cock you'd seen from before, weeping from the tip and partially pinned down by his sweatpants. You want to take it in your fingers and softly pull at him the way he'd done to himself until you get a thrilling idea.

"Simon, honey, do you want to touch me?"

For once, his mind is blank. Malfunctioning. Overheating and practically melting out his ears. But as soon as he regains some composure he says, "Yeah...y-you'll have to tell me what to do..."

You take his hand--the one still sticky from his own pre-cum-- and dip it beneath the elastic waistband of your pajama shorts, down over your heated mound. "Is this your first time touching a girl down here?" That earns you another sheepish nod from him.

"Oh, sweet boy." you coo, "You can go slow. I'll go slow too. Just follow my directions and you'll be golden."

Simon likes the sound of that. He's always been much better at learning with his own hands anyways.

With that, you grab him. Starting at the base, you tighten your grip more than he had; watch him hiss as you begin your sluggish pace. He's not going to last long. So if you're going to get any teaching done, you'll have to be fast.

You blurt out the basics, "Now, I just want you to get your fingers wet. You'll want to run them between my lips."

Simon does what he's told, gathering the growing slick with two fingers. He's too afraid to plunge any more than that beyond your folds.

You shift, clenching around absolutely nothing when his hesitant finger brushes across your skin. "Right at the top, you're gonna find a little bud; that's my clit. If you want to make me cum, you're gonna want to rub circles over it. Can you do that?"

Swallowing hard, Simon nods and says, "Y-yes, ma'am."

His fingers search, landing right over the gnarled bunch of nerves that you had to be talking about. Waiting for him to pluck up the courage to make some sort of progress, you tug particularly roughly before stopping entirely. Simon whines and gazes at you, looking for an explanation for your cruelty.

You press a chaste kiss to his quivering lips. "Can't have you losing focus now, can we? You've hardly touched me."

Chasing the high of your hold, Simon pushes onward. He messily circles three fingers around the nub. You yelp from the sudden burn of overwhelming pleasure, laying your hand on the fabric of your shorts over his.

“No, no no no. Simon, baby, go a bit slower. Gently build it up.” you instruct him.

Like the dutiful man he is, he continues, controlling the motion. You resume your steady pace, practically suffocating his slick cock under the weight of the euphoria in his belly. It’s too much but not enough all at once.

As the seconds pass, Simon comes to perfect his ministrations. Like everything else he’s worked on, he can’t help but want to know how it ticks. How this little bead of flesh can hold the burden of your climax. How it’s even possible for you and him to inspire this much elation in each other, pressed together like this.

His mind wanders as you begin to gasp. If he can do this with just his fingertips, he couldn’t begin to understand what kind of explosion would come from his cock sliding in and out of you. Closing his eyes, he does a little extra work to picture your hand being made of the slick heat under his hand. He imagines your walls milking him for all he’s worth, making him cry out.

He’s getting closer and closer, edging towards the edge of a dark pit. Peeking over side, he stares into the void; wants to feel its comforting embrace as you push him in. He’s never been able to bring himself to a peak this intense, this drawn out as he teeters back and forth. But your ever changing hand and the sound of you coming undone for him is enough. More than enough to last him a lifetime of daydreaming material.

Then he cums; thick ropes of milky fluid spilling over his belly. As you follow after him, he says something truly deadly.

“Oh, I love you so much.”

The sentence melts you completely. It makes your head swirl with thoughts of your sweet, nervous Simon, gazing at you like you’re the most fascinating piece of tech he’s ever seen as you climax. The likelihood of your feelings meaning anything to the CIA in the grand scheme of things is unlikely. They’d never allow this conflict of interest to fly. But you don’t care.

Love is a bit strong, but you kiss him through the final wave and murmur against his lips, “Good.”

[galaxythreads]

1, 2 (b – may I also ask what colour?), 4, 8, 9, 12, 13, 15, 18, 20, 25, 28, 33, ✨34✨, 35, 36, 38 (even if you are okay with sharing, i need to know what cats say about us), 39

Quite a lot, isn't it? You may skip numbers you don't feel like elaborating.

One more question from me: what particular question(s) made you reblog this questioner? If I didn't pick it (them) then answer it (them) anyway

What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting? Calibri, size 11 font. Yes I care a lot. I've changed fonts three or four times since I started writing. I used to do Times New Roman, then Arial, then Algeraya, now I'm using Calibri and Arial occasionally.

If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil? I went to online high school and every summer you had to give back the laptops they loaned out. I wrote by hand for three months until I bought a laptop when I was 18. I know I could do it because I already have. Colors usually black or pencil.

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral? Giggled. I hate it with my entire soul. Or yummy. If I could permanently remove words from the English language, it would be these two ^

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go? Already did. Someone fell from their sky to their death. it was a one-shot I wrote five years about for HTTYD.

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know. Yes but no. I am one of the most skeptical people when it comes to the supernatural. I know you're going "........you're christain." and like yeah. Different than a haunting to me. I think 99% of hauntings are just mold or carbon monoxide poisoning. I would personally have to be possessed by a ghost before I took the story seriously. I am always going to try and find a scientific reason first, if I've crossed out all those, THEN i'm like "Yep. Ghost." I genuinely DO believe people have encountered the afterlife. I feel bad energies in places/rooms, and I've seen some stuff. But I DO NOT believe that every haunting is a haunting. It's ridiculous. Make sure your carbon monoxide detector is up to date.

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules. 1 - I get published and get a big fandom, 2 - one of my fanfics gets turned into a movie 3 - ChatGPT becomes illegal and doesn't overtake writing and ruin any potential prospects I have at making writing a career.

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy? Hard: child death. Easy: child abuse.

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends? No I don't. If you damage a book, I feel annoyed. My sister loaned me a book she wrote in the margins of once and yes it was cool to see her thoughts, but she crossed out sentences and wrote it differently and circled unique words and it was really really annoying because it was so distracting. Have never written in a book that wasn't scripture, have no plans to start.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

"I'm sorry.

He moves down the hall. Tony's enjoying this. Making May uncomfortable. It makes him sick. He wants to scream himself hoarse and demand to know how anyone could ever want that. (She said sorry.) Peter pushes open the door to his room and stares at it.

There's no looming shadowy presence in the corner. Nothing to suggest what's been going on for all this time. (Nothing has been going on.) it looks...painfully ordinary. Normal. Numbingly so. Peter stares at everything with an ache in his chest. Staying with the Starks isn't permanent he reminds himself, just until he can work things out with M&M. Then he'll be back here. He just needs...not everything.

Sorry.

Peter moves into the room, leaving the door open behind him.

I'm sorry.

He shuffles to his closet and digs through the top until he finds a duffle bag and starts to throw things into it. Clothing, his laptop, his phone charger, a blanket, other things he barely processes, and a few books. He doesn't see his phone and realizes that it's probably still in May and Matt's bedroom. Which...great.

Peter moves for his backpack, stuffing anything school related inside. He doesn't know if he'll be back before winter break is over. He doesn't think so.

Sorry.

May said sorry.

Peter's stiff hands move across the desk, fumbling to grab his history book, but it won't stick with his fingers. The backpack falls from his limp hands, landing at his feet with a huff of air.

Sorry.

As if that's supposed to fix it. Take back everything that happened. Half a year of aching. Of hating. Of nothing.

May said sorry.

Matt pushed him down the stairs.

Sorry.

His arm is broken.

May said sorry. And he doesn't want to forgive her."

-> Not one for Chocolate Anymore, I see

This passage is in response to May apologizing to Peter. And Peter just. yeah. This passage went through a lot of revisions that I can remember, Peter fixated on different things. But the sorry was what struck a chord with me.

I was, at the time, struggling with a lot of personal issues with my parents, and had a similar vein of thought to this ^. Sorry doesn't fix it. Sorry doesn't make it better. It's just words. I wanted to showcase that.

People hound victims of abuse for forgiving their abusers, especially if they said sorry. Like it makes it all better. They apologized, didn't they? Yeah. But May neglected Peter for months. He doesn't have to forgive her. This was my response to that. Peter is angry. He's allowed to be angry. Sorry doesn't fix it.

20..If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch One true love. perfection doesn't exist and the potion would be useless. Plus I'm lonely and single and very much wish I had a gf.

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story? I always write Thor as hating poptarts because I like to subvert fandom tropes.

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

Loki. His head is haunted. Hela's a close second though. Her head is very haunted.

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate? I draw. I play several instruments. I make collages and I build modals sometimes. The art comes into my writing sometimes, but not often.

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go: It is utterly pointless. Look, there are very few instances that you NEED to have the oxford comma there. When you're listing things, people understand the and. I think that English is desperately trying to stick to outdated rules because they're "right" but the thing is, if you don't adapt with the language the language will die. Let it flow and change. It's normal. It's healthy. That's why English is how it is now.

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens? No adverbs.

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us? I write the chapter, let it sit for 3-4 days and then rewrite and edit it. Letting it marinate is just so weird to me.

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up? I like comments. I enjoy putting down stories and sharing them. I like seeing people put the story together in the comments. I like the community.

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

Poem I wrote a few years ago (I have pages and pages and pages of poems actually, it was my Thing when I was 13-15).

"Trapped and I can't breathe,

Blind and I can't see,

Alone I cry and grieve,

I'm afraid of me,

from this ask game

[not-close-to-straight]

HI omg i've been in the trenches of a fandom writing event (70k in one month is hell) and so i hadn't had the chance to catch up on BAB but i FINALLY got the chance last night AND HOLY SHIT

first of all FIRST OF ALL im gonna say this again: i love these two. these two in particular. your spideypool will always be my favorite no matter where you put them, but oh man these two.... there's so much that makes them my favorite but it's probably the viciousness of them, both in love and at others who've hurt them.

peter telling himself that the collar was a compromise, not obedience was such a good little piece of character development that made my heart ache just a little bit more for him.

i will always lose it over one of a pair losing their mind over others treating their partner like shit, even if it's unintentional. YES its not healthy and YES its still sexy as hell to watch wade break that dude's wrist bc he made a (correct) assumption about peter. he gives 0 fucks about staying hidden at this point bc his mate was just insulted. i just... it's so good.

and the wall scene??? where he just keeps saying "you're my mate" and all peter can say is "i understand" *melts into a puddle* they're so INTENSE and i love every second of it

OH OH AND THE FLASHBACK?? where they're all soft and gentle with each other becuase they're in LOVE and IDIOTS who refuse to admit to each ohter????? god damn golden.

and then wade LEAVING??? broke my heart (especially because i had to go back to work from my break and i was on a CLIFFHANGER!)

i know i've said this before but i will continue to tell you this because you do it SO DAMN WELL and i can only hope to emulate it: the way i can see the western movie montage of Wade zigzagging across the map, only music playing over the scene, as he slowly collects weapons and doesn't rest for nearly long enough. (oh and the little detail about the coin in the man's mouth for the undertaker?? i loved that so much!)

and i've left the best for last obviously: the way i can see the camera slowly pan up to see Pete staring down the barrel of the shotgun already half to feral in anger and heartbreak is one i will never forget. it's too good!! those bar patrons had no idea they were gonna get a show with their dinner that night lmao i love love fights like those where only one person is truly angry and the other makes it so so hard to keep it up when they're being so sweet...

and then 👀 wade picking pete's affection over getting himself off his *chefs kiss* the epitome of his character. i cannot WAIT to see what kind of hell they rain down on francis and the commander when they finally reach defiance. these two are VICIOUS and francis should be very very scared

okay, long ask OVER, i've loved these last few chapters, and i hate that i haven't had the time to leave you the proper showering of praise!! i hope you're doing well and having a great day!

Wow! Kudos on 70k in a month! That's great!

I totally agree with you-- the viciousness of Spideypool in love and in anger is what makes them great. The snap to violence from Wade, the answering violence from Peter, the way that even when they talk they aren't really saying what needs to be said, it really comes down to their ACTIONS-- the collar, the broken wrist, slamming Peter into a wall and Peter exposing his throat instead of getting defensive. Spideypool is all actions speak louder than words, and I love it.

THE REUNION SCENE. Goddamn I loved that shot of Wade finally giving himself a moment to really think about Peter and then that pan up to the shotgun barrel and Peter's furious eyes. I've had that line "you can kiss me, or you can come" planned out forever. My spideypool is always sort of intensely sexual, whether they fall into bed first and then it's feelings or if they just can't keep their hands off each other of (alot of the time) because of Wade's body image issues sex is a big deal for him and extremely emotional for Peter to want to touch him-- so Spideypool is always super intense when it comes to sex and Peter drawing that line between the act and the emotions is HUGE. Especially because he is a sex worker which means it's always been strictly physical between them and we've seen through flashbacks that they very rarely ever indulged in even a second of truth about their feelings.

So for this reunion when Peter basically tells Wade, you can have my body or my heart, and Wade chooses his HEART after all those years of turning away from Peter and denying their bond... UGH. IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL. IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL.

And the way Peter sobs afterwards, how angry he is about Wade this one time actually following the rules and choosing to kiss him, choosing Peter's heart and feelings and their reconciliation instead of brushing it away for the often easier option of just ignoring what is happening between them... ITS BEAUTIFUL.

Every time I write Spideypool there's always a scene or moment or line that ends up staying with me for ages and this scene in this fic is it.

[hoardofshinythings]

Hauled In To Fandom Kicking and Screaming

Look. I usually dance along the periphery of fandoms, ones I have actually watched the shows of and ones I am literally just in it for one or two good fan fiction writers. It is VERY rare I see a character and it actually makes me want to get in to a fandom. My ADHD/Autism combo makes it hard for me to get in to the mood to watch shows okay? Movies maybe. but series? oh lordy I have been bitten and burned so many times I am gun shy as heck with getting in to watching a show. I have gotten involved with to many shows for them to get axed for attracting the 'wrong' fans (Teen Titans, Motor City), or bizarre choices to take everything that attracted people to the first seasons and toss them in the trash and stick a sexy white woman in peril as the main into it's place. Weirdly specific but the fact it has happened several times is... something (Grimm, Sleepy Hollow). Or later episodes fall down the Stairs of Stupid Out of Character Decisions and Mistakes An Idiot Plot for a Plot Twist. I'm sure at least a few shows popped in your head at that one!

So I am .... reticent.... to get in to anything these days. Enter Eddie Munson.

Look. Stranger Things is in the background of the internet fandom zeitgeist. Okay creepy monsters, 80's, people actually LOOK like they are from the 80's and aren't airbrushed into an inch of their lives. Made a huge splash in its first season then kinda... floated in the background for the next few seasons.

Nothing about it really grabbed me. Looked fun. Not enough to attract my scraggly feral arse.

Then THIS little curly haired muppet man starts showing up on my dashes.

Eddie before disaster.

See. I KNOW this fucker. See I was a wee barely existing bean in the mid 80's. I have a brother who is over a decade older then me who thankfully I grew up having a great relationship with. So he was a TEENAGER during the 80's. Closer to Henderson's age then Munson's during 86. But I look at this fucker, and I KNOW him. Eddie Munson is the cobbled together pieces of my older brothers friend circle. The hair from one. The weed from another. The fashion from a few of them. My brother was more of a Johnathan type fashion and music wise (not personality), but a lot of his buddies were heavy metal or grunge. And more then half of them were in to DnD and comic books. Two of them were always writing or playing an instrument while hanging out at our house or back yard. They gamed at our house or at the drug dealer guys house (I didn't know he was back then cause again, baby wee me, but I remember he did cool smoke ring tricks and got my younger brother and I a huge pile of dinkies, so A+ dude to me) because hey, GUESS WHAT, the Satanic Panic was even a thing in but fuck nowhere Eastern Canada. My dad was Atheist (GASP) and my mom was vaguely Anglican (Sunday every week for socializing) but had logical heads. Mom was scared at first when my older brother got in to DnD, but despite being a early 20's young mother to two toddlers and a teenage step son with the whisper of church ladies in her ears... she sat down and learned about it. Found out it's just creative writing within a group with math. So we were the one place other than the drug dealers house they could have their games without judgement. Obviously our house was nicer so they were over a LOT. Which with it being the 80's, and both our parents busy nurses overworked and always on call, that resulted in a bunch of teenage scrungey boys babysitting tiny me and baby brother while playing DnD, practicing, hanging out, or whatever. I KNOW this fucker. I know Eddie Munson. All the pieces that make him I know them because I grew up with them. I have NEVER had a character give me a whiplash feeling of nostalgia for the past like THIS MOTHERFUCKER. Yes. I got bitch slapped by a blorbo in to watching a show so I can actually tell if the character is written believably (much more elastic then you think) or if the fandom is full of poop.

So I watched short snaps of just his scenes. God dammit he is Like That. Well NOW I have to go back to the beginning of the show because guess fucking what you shit heads. I want to actually try writing fanfiction. I want to making Eddie Munson SUFFER my twisted form of love.

I haven't done that in over 10 years. I've kept up with character writing, but nothing beyond role play games. This FRIGGER is making me dig up so many things from the graveyard of my fandom enjoyment past I may as well accept my new life as a Necromancer.

The show is meh, I know this, but the world has so many options of PROMISE. MUSIC THEMES. the fucking 80's! The characters, once again, do NOT look like airbrushed, they actually look like 80's awkward kids and adults and people. There's mullet's and mens crop tops and short shorts. All on the background of Modern (ish) Suburban Hidden World Fantasy with a good and proper horror twist. Shitty government fuckery. Monsters. Weird powers with no real explanation as to WHY. POTENTIAL!!!! SO yeah. There was a shiny toy in the sandbox (Eddie Munson) and I'm joining in, cat turds and cigarette butts be damned. I am going to try and slap in my observations of each episode as I go. Have fun watching me hate but love it all.

[firstdove15]

It was lowkey monster week for me.

With Prey coming out on Hulu, I was in the mood to watch the first two Predator movies first because I never watched the whole movies properly (saw like the last ten minutes of the first one and at least half an hour of the second one). After that I finally watched Prey and then watched Alien vs. Predator because I knew the main human character was Black and she ends up earning respect from one of the Yautja.

1) Predator 1987

I saw the last ten minutes of this movie like...ten years ago? Dad was watching it on TV and I recognized the character but I knew nothing about the lore. The laugh haunted me ten years ago and it haunts me now. O_O But for real though, I highly enjoyed the movie when I finally watched the whole thing properly. My favorite part was Dutch trying to trick the Jungle Hunter into his trap and JH looking at him like, “You really think I’m gullible, don’t you?” He looked down at the booby trap and all. XDDDD

Also, because Mom watched Prey before I did, she paid attention to how I reacted to this movie and said, “See? If you can handle the gore in this one, you can definitely handle Prey.” (She had spoiled about the wolf in Prey and, listen, I love my wolves. XP) And she wasn’t wrong...even if I did jump at seeing the flayed men for the first time. Holy crap.

2) Predator 2

When I saw the last thirty minutes, I just thought of it as, “Okay, even I can tell the first one was better but this at least looks like it was entertaining.” Still my opinion upon watching it from beginning to end. Still hyped knowing that they legit had the Lakers play the Yautja clan at the very end. I thought it was neat and cute. I knew about Kevin Peter Hall and his untimely death and thus knew this was the last Predator movie he did. He did such a great job so the first two movies have a special place in my heart for his performance alone. I also found out he played Harry in Harry and the Hendersons so he was a part of my childhood without me realizing it.

3) Prey

This movie was amazing. Just beautiful. @@ I’m definitely watching it again soon. Probably today (it’s after midnight; it counts). Dane DiLegro did great and I was just as fascinated with his Yautja as I was with Hall’s Yautjas. Feral Yautja can catch hands for what he did to the wolf and Taabe though. I was also the most invested in Naru’s story out of the stories between her, Dutch, and Harrigan. 

4) Alien vs. Predator

Easily my least favorite out of the four I watched but I kept my expectations low due to when it was made and the fact that it was a crossover (looks at Freddy vs. Jason). I didn’t dislike it; I actually had fun but it really shined for me when Lex and Scar teamed up against the Xenomorphs. The teamwork, the respect. I totally ship it and I’m already reading fanfic because I’m garbage. It is what it is. XDD

I’m planning on watching the original Alien movie today or my next day off despite being terrified of the face huggers. Just that alone is a nice tall glass of nope. But I heard the movie is case of everyone would have lived if they had listened to the main female lead so, fine, I’m here for that aspect. Funny enough, Mom and I did watch Prometheus a long time ago but that movie is a total blur for me. Dunno what that says about my initial experience with it....

Anyway, felt like writing about it. Good night. XP

[sachigram]

Rewrite

((click here to read on ao3!))

As soon as Eddie steps back into Derry, Maine for the first time in years, he feels like a clock starts ticking. It's not the first time he's felt he has a finite timeline, but it is the first time it's felt more like an hourglass running quickly out of sand. He doesn't really know what's going on at all, but he can't shake the feeling he's going to die here, and soon.

Everything looks exactly like it did when he left—not that he remembered it before he got here. Now it seems crazy he didn't remember. The Barrens, the quarry, the library, the fucking pharmacy, the arcade. He grew up here. He belonged here, once. How the hell did he forget?

When the phone rang, Eddie didn't know why he felt compelled to answer. The area code said Maine, and he just...acted without thinking. It was unlike him, and he knows that, and Myra knows that, and this entire thing is just so bizarre but somehow so right at the same time. He booked his plane tickets immediately after dealing with his car crash situation, even with Myra chattering and nagging in his ear, and he never once doubted it was what he was supposed to do, despite the fact the name Mike Hanlon didn't ring any bells aside from a cacophony of alarm bells Eddie couldn't explain.

Still, here he is outside Jade of the Orient, and he's steeling himself to go inside. It feels like the pieces of a puzzle sliding together inside his head. Most people he's met as an adult don't understand how he's forgotten so much of his childhood, and somehow Eddie never really questioned it much, but now he's suddenly got a lot of questions.

“What the fuck am I even doing here?” he mutters to himself. Strangely enough, it feels like someone else is listening.

He grits his teeth and goes in, doing his best to shake his spike in anxieties, but it does about as well as it ever has. His hands are shaking as he goes to the hostess stand and asks about the Hanlon party, and if she notices, she doesn't say anything, only smiles and leads him to the back, and to make himself feel more in control of the situation, he starts listing his allergies to her at breakneck speed.

Eddie doesn't know what he was expecting to find, but childhood friends he didn't remember never once crossed his mind. Mike and Bill, so different and so recognizable at the same time, and Eddie remembers being right there with them, a member of the group.

“Holy shit,” is all he can say.

When the stupid gong signals the official meeting of the Loser's Club, all of whom just remembered the other member's existed, Eddie finds himself looking into the leering face of Richie goddamn Tozier, and all of a sudden he's a kid again with a personal vendetta for bothering the fuck out of him.

It's insane, how easily he can fall back into the role.

Who the fuck has he been, up until now?

Memories return slowly, but not everything, and not everyone. Stan's chair remains empty, and Eddie can't help glancing at it periodically, even as everyone chatters around him, throwing insults and swapping anecdotes. And Eddie participates, because how could he not? He remembers these things. He remembers them. He remembers Stan.

And Stan is missing. Something feels wrong about it in the same way that being back in Derry at all feels wrong, and all if it makes Eddie's hair stand on end, even as he's tipsy and full and telling a twinkling eyed Richie to go fuck himself.

At some point after he's laughed more than he has in years, Eddie is wiping tears of mirth from under his eyes and he once again glances at Stan's empty chair, only this time it's occupied. Stan is there, looking at him calmly, and Eddie doesn't know how, but he immediately knows Stan is dead. Eddie's mouth drops open and he looks around to see if anyone else notices, but they're all talking amongst themselves. Stan gives him a little wave.

“Been a while, huh?” Stan asks, and he smiles in that way he used to where his eyes crinkle in the corners that lets Eddie know he means it, and then suddenly Eddie is aware he's crying.

“Eddie? Honey?” Beverly says, noticing. A hush falls over the table as they all look over at him.

“Whoa. Hey, Eds, you being a weepy drunk over there?” Richie asks, and he scoots over into Stan's seemingly empty chair, and Stan vanishes as Richie's hand is suddenly on Eddie's shoulder.

“I just—I saw...” Eddie pauses, and he wipes his hands over his eyes, sniffling. When's the last time he cried? It makes his head hurt every time. “Fuck. I'm sorry, guys.” He stands abruptly. “I'm gonna go splash some water on my face.” He hurriedly exits the room and he hears Mike asking what he saw, but Eddie is already power-walking across the restaurant to the bathroom, aware Dead Stan is hot on his heels.

“Lucky. The bathroom is empty,” Stan says as he leans against the wall. Eddie looks at him, really looks, and he sees the blood on Stan's wrists.

“Stan...” Eddie moves forward and tries to touch him, but his hand goes right through. He doesn't know why that sends more tears pouring down his face. “Fuck, Stan, why'd you— Why can I see—?”

“Easy, Eddie. It's okay.”

“Fuck you, it's not okay! You're fucking dead! Why the fuck are you dead?!”

Stan sighs and he looks up at the ceiling, tongue in cheek. “I guess I was the weakest.”

“What kind of cryptic ass bullshit is that supposed to be? Weak? Like, in the bones or some shit? What?”

Stan sighs again and closes his eyes. “Why couldn't it have been Bill that sees me? Talking to you is exhausting when you're freaking out.”

“I'm seeing the fucking ghost of my dead friend in a Chinese restaurant, Stanley! How did you think this conversation would go?!” Eddie screeches.

“It could definitely be worse. Richie would be the worst to see me. He listens about as well as a toddler.” Stan looks back at Eddie and shrugs a little. “You don't remember why Mike called us all here, do you?”

“I don't know, a reunion?” Eddie needs a tissue, but he also doesn't want to touch anything in the bathroom. It looks clean enough, but he doesn't buy it.

“Pennywise,” Stan says softly, and Eddie's brow furrows because he doesn't know what the hell that means.

But then he does.

What are you looking for, Eddie?

“Shit!”

Forgetting his avoidance of touching the bathroom, Eddie suddenly finds himself bent over the sink, wheezing as memories flood back to him. Stan watches him sympathetically, unable to do anything.

“The fucking clown...” Eddie digs into his pocket and pulls out his inhaler.

“We all made a promise,” Stan says as Eddie works at catching his breath. They both look down at their hands. “I guess I still have to honor it even like this.”

Eddie isn't hearing him much anymore as he panics. The bad feeling he's had since coming here finally makes sense, and it takes a moment for him to understand why he's so pissed all of a sudden.

He storms out of the bathroom and beelines for the room their party is in, hands clenched into fists.

“Eddie—“ Mike stands, hands immediately flying up as if he can tell by Eddie's face that he's remembered. “Let me explain.”

“You bastard. You fucking asshole, you—“

“What is it? What's wrong?” Bill asks, standing as well. He gets between Eddie and Mike as Eddie moves forward. Mike is taller and stronger, but Eddie is fairly sure he can get a few punches in.

“Guys, come on,” Ben says, moving to pull Eddie backwards. He looks at Beverly and Richie, who are still seated. Beverly just looks confused, and Richie is giving Mike a hard stare as if to say “I don't know why Eddie is so pissed off at Mike, but I guess I am too, now.”

“The fucking clown! The clown!” Eddie yanks out of Ben's hold and shoves his finger into Mike's chest. “Why the fuck didn't you lead with that when you called me?!”

“The clown...” Bill says softly, and Mike looks so guilty that Eddie considers launching at him.

“Pennywise,” Beverly whispers, and then Richie is on his feet, also moving towards Mike, his jaw set.

“Guys, please, let me explain, okay,” Mike says. “We made a promise. Don't you wonder why you've forgotten mostly everything about where you grew up? Why you can't remember the things most people can?”

“I just figured it fucking sucked and I blocked it out,” Richie says. He brushes against Eddie as they stand side by side. “And I was right!”

“W-when were y-you gonna...” Bill stutters, and he blinks in alarm. Eddie looks at him, some of his anger fading as he recalls Bill was speaking clearly before they all started remembering It. “Gonna tell us.” Bill finishes, speaking slowly.

“When we were all here!” Mike says. “Stan's not here yet!”

“Stan's dead.” Eddie feels all their eyes on him, but he stares determinedly up at Mike.

“What?” Mike asks.

“He's dead, Mike! He's dead, he's not coming!” The tears resume, but Eddie fights through them. He shoves Mike, but it doesn't do much. Mike barely budges. “He remembered as soon as you fucking called him!”

“Oh god,” Beverly says, and they all turn around to see she's crying as well. “The bath.”

“How do you know? How can you know that? He...he answered the phone. It was him! How is he dead?” Mike says wildly. Eddie locks eyes with Stan, who is standing in the entrance of the room looking sullen.

“He killed himself,” Eddie says, and he scrubs at his face as all the fire leaves him. Ben goes to sit with Beverly, his hand on her back. Bill is looking at Mike helplessly, and Richie is still looking at Eddie.

“Is that what you saw?” Mike asks Eddie softly, and Eddie debates telling them he can see Stan now, but before he can, a crunching noise captures their attention. It came from the bowl of fortune cookies.

***

In the aftermath of being attacked by It in the middle of the fucking restaurant, Eddie decides fuck it. He's getting out. Leaving Derry did the trick once, right? Why wouldn't it work again? While Beverly calls Stan's wife to get the truth, Eddie and Richie lash into Mike, and Richie agrees leaving is the best option as Beverly gets confirmation that Stan is dead. Stan is dead. Why the fuck can Eddie still see him?

Eddie clamors into his car, breathing heavily as his hands grip the steering wheel. He doesn't look over, doesn't need to, to see Stan staring at him obviously. Mike and Bill are in the middle of the road talking animatedly, and Richie has already started his car. He revs his engine at Eddie, and Eddie goes through the motions, starts his own car, and then he's following Richie back to the townhouse, refusing to look over at Stan.

“Eddie,” Stan says, and Eddie loses it.

“How the fuck do I know you're not him? Huh? How do I know you aren't Pennywise?” His knuckles go white from where he's gripping the wheel. His hands hurt. “This is exactly the kind of thing he does. Use someone's pain against them”

“I can't prove anything,” Stan says. “Do I feel like I'm Pennywise?”

“No,” Eddie says, and his voice breaks. “That's what hurts so fucking badly.”

Streetlights blur as Eddie looks straight ahead, and he can't tell if it's because he's driving fast, or because his eyes are filled with tears. Either way, Stan reaches over, his hand on Eddie's shoulder, and fuck it, Eddie can feel it. He can feel Stan's touch. It's not even cold or wrong or otherworldly. It's him.

“I'm me, Eds. And before you can say you hate that nickname, I already know that. But it's catchy.” Stan smiles, and Eddie sobs.

“Why? Why? Why the fuck would you kill yourself? Stan, you—we needed you.”

Stan shifts in the passenger seat. “Yeah. I know. I know you did. It was just—it was so much. I was scared. I was terrified. Mike called and I just, I knew. I remembered. It's so weird to me that you guys are all taking so long to get everything back. I heard Mike and I knew it all immediately.”

“Why is that?” Eddie asks, not to Stan specifically. “I'm still getting random shit.”

“I think it has to do with the order,” Stan says.

“Order?”

“When we die. I was first. I knew that as soon as Mike called me. I was the first to go.”

Eddie's breath catches. Stan was always so soft. So logical. Stan knew better than them all, only went along with things to appease the rest of them. He was always the fucking best. And fighting Pennywise, disrupting whatever rhythm Pennywise had going—was this the punishment? Dying one by one for daring to stand up to him?

“Who was next?” Eddie finds himself asking. Stan is looking at him intently.

“Do you want to know for real?” Stan asks.

“No,” Eddie says, watching Richie park his car. Eddie wasn't even paying attention to the fact they made it to the townhouse.

“They say those who are close to death are closer to the dead,” Stan says. “You can see more. Hear more.”

Eddie parks behind Richie, barely seeing as Richie exits his car and waits for Eddie, hands in his pockets.

“So I'm next,” Eddie says, his voice calm despite how he feels.

“I was the weakest,” Stan reiterates, and Eddie finally looks at him.

“What does that mean? The weakest? Of what? Will? Strength? What, exactly?”

“It means I knew too much and couldn't handle it. And then after me, there was...”

Knowing too much. Eddie was always cautious. Sure, most of his health facts weren't correct. He knows that now, looking back. But Stan was right there with him. Stan, who loved nature, thought every plant was poison ivy, and was scared to hurt anyone's feelings. Eddie, meanwhile, was paranoid, terrified, and thought he had to fight tooth and nail to argue a point no one else was tying to prove.

Stan was nicer than him. Better than him.

Is that why Stan was dead first?

“Do you know how it happens?” Eddie finds himself asking. Richie is looking at him now, outside the car. Richie makes a vague what are you doing gesture. Eddie shrugs.

“Yes,” Stan says.

“Can you tell me?” Eddie asks, not really wanting to know.

“No. Not outright.”

“Okay,” Eddie says. “Shut up for a while. They're all gonna think I'm crazy or that you're really Pennywise.” He exits the car.

“Who were you talking to?” Richie asks.

“No one,” Eddie says. “I had my wife on speakerphone.” It's a lie, but a believable one. Richie makes a sour face.

“Oh yeah? All eight-hundred pounds of her?”

Eddie bristles. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Guys,” Stan says softly, sighing. Richie, unaware of Stan, huffs.

“I'm just saying. If old Mrs. K was four-hundred pounds, shouldn't the new one be twice as much?”

“Fuck you,” Eddie says, and Richie throws his hands up, exasperated. Stan, to the side, covers his face in his hands.

“Fuck me? Fuck me? Do you even know all that we've been through? Do you remember everything yet? My jokes are the least of your concerns—“

“They're still a pain in the ass, okay, and no wonder you don't write your own shit since all you have in your repertoire is your mom jokes—“

“What the fuck is a repertoire?” Richie swipes at him, and Eddie dodges, not wanting to get caught in a headlock. Stan is rubbing his temples.

“You illiterate fuck,” Eddie hisses, and then he's marching into the townhouse, stomping a bit despite himself. Somehow being around Richie makes him revert to a pissed off kid. He never fights Myra like this. Usually he's quiet and lets her do or say whatever because it'll be over faster. Richie Tozier makes him feel downright feral.

“Eddie,” Stan says tiredly.

“Shut up, too,” Eddie says.

“I didn't say anything!” Richie says from behind him.

Eddie climbs the stairs and starts gathering his shit, not wanting to stay a second longer than he has to. He hears Ben and Beverly chatting downstairs and Richie is probably getting his own things together judging by the thumps coming from next door. Stan sits on Eddie's bed, watching him. Eddie pointedly ignores him.

“You can't leave,” Stan says at last.

“I'm not staying. I can't do this again. If I'm next to die, I should just not even be here.”

“It doesn't work that way. I wasn't here either and I'm still dead.”

“You killed yourself,” Eddie argues. It still hurts to think, let alone say. He can't be mad at Stan for it, and he's not, not really. He just wishes it hadn't happened.

“It doesn't matter how it happens. You'll die either way. The only way to stop it from happening is to—“

“I can't do this!” Eddie shouts, and it's suddenly very quiet. He doesn't hear Richie thrashing around next door, or hear the murmuring of Beverly and Ben. Stan is watching him still.

“You don't have a choice.”

Eddie curses and kicks his luggage. There's a knock at his door.

“Eds? You okay in there?” Richie asks. Eddie laughs, borderline maniacally.

“I'm great. I'm fucking fantastic.” He kicks his luggage again, and it's so dense it hurts his toes, but that's the least of his concerns. He keeps kicking.

“Okay, fuck, I'm coming in,” Richie says, and then he's picking Eddie up and pulling him away from his kicking fit. Eddie tries to wrench away from him, but Richie is stupidly strong.

“Get off me, you—“

“Goddamn, you're scrappy,” Richie says, and it's absurd he sounds so jovial about it. Eddie tries to claw at him and it doesn't work, so soon enough he's resigning himself to being manhandled by a large man baby in a hideous shirt. “You're gonna break your toes, dude. You're an angry, tiny thing.”

Eddie glares at him from over his shoulder. “I'm going to slit your throat.”

“Okay, yeah, you need a few more minutes in the arms of casa de Tozier.”

“Are you guys okay? We heard screaming,” Ben says, appearing at the door. Beverly is by his side, smiling at the scene of Eddie being restrained and cradled by Richie, who doesn't seem fazed in the slightest.

“Eds is having a tantrum.”

“It's good to know after all this time, you guys haven't changed,” Beverly says.

“Fuck you, I changed,” Eddie says.

“You didn't get any taller,” Richie says, and Eddie starts trying to break away from him again just to get one good punch in his smug fucking face. Richie just smiles at him and then looks to Beverly and Ben. “You guys look grim.”

“We were having a, uh. A pretty serious conversation,” Ben murmurs. He glances at Beverly. “She knew about Stan. She knew before we called. She even said the bath.”

“So did Eddie,” Beverly says, looking curiously at Eddie, who stops fighting Richie because this seems like a serious matter.

“Yeah, what's up with that, anyway? How'd you guys know?” Richie asks. He finally lets Eddie go, and Eddie slaps his arm for good measure before straightening up his clothes.

“I saw it. In the...the deadlights.” Beverly shudders as she says it. She closes her eyes. “I saw us all die.”

“Fucking yikes,” Richie says.

“But Eddie... You didn't see the deadlights. Did you?” Ben asks.

“No.” Eddie looks at Stan, who is still on the bed. “It's hard to explain, I guess. I just knew.”

“We were talking...” Ben says, glancing between them all nervously. Beverly is still looking intently at Eddie. “We were talking about what it might mean. That maybe there's a...a reason we have to stay.”

“Fuck that,” Richie says.

“What else do you know, Eddie?” Beverly asks.

“Just that we're all gonna die one by one if we don't kill It. Nothing major.” Eddie shrugs as Ben pales and Richie curses again.

“So Stan was the weakest,” Richie says.

“Fuck you too, Richie,” Stan huffs, and Eddie laughs. They all look back at Eddie as if worried for his sanity.

“So then, is there an order?” Richie asks. “Is this something we should know?”

Beverly glances at Eddie, who suddenly feels the need to leave the room immediately. “I don't know about an order,” she lies.

Eddie very quickly exits the room and goes down the stairs two at a time to the bar, where he finds the fanciest looking bottle he can and opens it. He's yet to see an employee here, but he did talk to someone on the phone for the room, so he's assuming someone is here. They can add it to his tab or something.

“Eddie,” Richie says as he joins him. “You okay—“ He enters the room in time to see Eddie toss back a shot of Blanton's. Richie puts his hands in his pockets and watches Eddie carefully. “Damn. Well, I can't let you drink alone, can I?”

Eddie pours him a shot, and they stand in quiet solidarity for a moment.

“This is good shit,” Richie says. “Usually I just drink cheap since I like a lot of it. Quantity over quality, right?”

“I usually drink gin and prune juice,” Eddie says, and Richie snorts. “I fucking hate gin.” Eddie sets his glass down with more force than he should, and then he's refilling it, his hands shaking. “I hate so much of my goddamn life.”

“Eds—“

“And I knew it before, you know? I knew I wasn't happy. But I didn't know why. I forgot just like everyone else did, and I never knew I had it better. I never knew I was brave before. I just let everyone boss me around like mom did because it was all I knew how to do.” He throws back another shot, grimacing. “I fought a fucking demon clown and ran away from my mom to do it. I threw out my medication and then I just... God, I fucking went back to get it. Like as soon as fighting It was over, everything was already starting to fade.”

“Hey, man, me too. Like I knew there was a hole or something but I didn't know...what it was. I didn't even know when Mike called. I just saw you and then—“ Richie pauses, his eyes widening. “I saw you all, I mean.” He frowns as Eddie pours another glass. “Dude, take it easy.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie says.

“You're shaking.” Richie takes the glass from him and then takes his hands, which is bizarre as hell, but also it's not. Richie has always been touchy. “Come on, talk to me here.”

“I think I'm having a mental breakdown,” Eddie says as he watches Stan come down the stairs. Richie looks over too, seeing nothing.

“Is he finally making a move?” Stan asks, and Eddie flushes because they are holding hands.

“I'd ask if it was because of the psycho horror clown thing, but that'd be a weird question. I'm with you, man. If you wanna sit here and get trashed, I'm down. Just let me know,” Richie says, and he looks so uncharacteristically serious that Eddie doesn't know what to do.

“I don't know what I want,” Eddie admits. “I don't ever know. That's why I let everyone decide for me.”

“That's bullshit,” Richie says easily. “You always know everything, at least to hear you tell it.”

Eddie flushes. No one ever believed in him like Richie Tozier. It's something he just now remembered.

“I think I want to get trashed. But it's a bad idea, since I don't know what we're doing tomorrow, and I get really bad hangovers.” Eddie looks at his empty glass and immediately regrets the shots he took. He's got enough of a buzz to want to tell Richie everything, but he also knows it'd be a bad idea.

“Then let's get rid of this,” Richie says, taking Eddie's glass away. Eddie considers reaching for it again, but decides Richie is right.

“Since when are you so sensible?” Eddie mutters, and Richie beams at him.

“I've always been sensible, Eddie-Baby. You just never listened to me before.”

Eddie grimaces, and hates how much he likes the nickname. He likes all of Richie's stupid nicknames and always has, but he'll never admit to it. He looks down to see Richie is still holding one of his hands. Eddie also hasn't let go. Maybe it's the alcohol, or all the trauma, but he doesn't want to let go.

“I'm not going to start listening to you now. It'll break this thing we have going,” Eddie says with a shrug. He tightens his hold on Richie's hand.

“You're already drunk,” Richie says with a smile. He looks thrilled about it.

“I am not.”

“It's because you're so tiny.”

“I will literally snap you like a twig and everyone else would thank me for it.”

“Oh my god,” Stan says from his corner. “Just fucking make out already.”

Eddie sighs and sits in a bar stool, looking from Stan to Richie, who immediately hops up to a stool beside him. It's strange how easily they can fall into their old routines despite the many years between their last interaction. Eddie remembers always fighting with Richie, who liked to egg him on in every possible way, but when things started to go sour, or one of them was actually upset, they always gravitated together and communicated without actually talking. They've always been RichieandEddie to their group, even when they were clawing at each other with no real intent to draw blood.

“I feel bad for yelling at Mike,” Eddie admits. He taps at the bar nervously.

“Nah, dude, he had that coming. He should have said something,” Richie says breezily.

“But what could he have said? How do you word something like that over the phone? I think he—he wanted to wait until we were all back together. We were always stronger that way and It hated us being together.” Eddie sighs and glances at Richie. “We left and Mike didn't. Mike never got out of this hellhole.”

“I don't know which of the situations is better or worse, Eds,” Richie says, and when Eddie looks at him curiously, he shrugs. “Was it better to forget or to remember? Seems like none of us ended up happy.”

“You're not happy, Rich?”

Richie barks out a laugh and shakes his head, shifting nervously in that way he always did when the focus was on him and he wasn't trying to be funny.

“I think I've had my highs, yeah. I mean, I made it. I've got dates—tour dates—in Reno. I've got a lot of fans and talks for a Netflix special, but, ah. It's not my own shit, so it's basically being a figurehead for someone else's jokes. It's like I'm touching everything with gloves on. Feeling it and not feeling it at the same time.” Richie doesn't look at Eddie while he talks. He looks down, and he tries to smile, but it's easy to see through.

“Yeah, the glove thing. Going through the motions. I think we all did that,” Eddie says.

“I guess we all something was missing. And Mike was the only one who knew what it was,” Richie says.

“I'll apologize to him. Not that my shoving did much. Pretty sure I broke my finger when I poked at his chest. The motherfucker got ripped.”

Richie laughs loudly. “Oh, god, right? And Ben...”

“Dude, yes! Ben!”

“Maybe that's the real price we paid for fucking with It. Like a, uh. That monkey thing. We get good stuff with bad things attached forever.”

“The Monkey's Paw?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah! We all got irresistibly hot but in return we live shitty lives.”

Eddie looks over at Stan, who is watching them with an amused glint to his eye.

“I wonder what Stan's wife was like,” Richie continues. “Bet he got all cute and shit as an adult. Wish I could talk to that fucker one more time. He pretty much always knew what to say.”

“Stan was happy,” Eddie says, and it hurts to say because he knows it was true. Stan was happy with his wife, and even with the missing pieces, he managed to thrive. Stan was the one of them who was most eager to forget. Stan never wanted to fight in the first place. And Eddie didn't either, but he also would have followed their group anywhere. Stan existed the most on his own outside of them, knew who he was and what he wanted. Eddie needed their club to thrive. For the others, it must've been the same.

“You think so?” Richie asks softly.

“Yeah, I do. I think he was smart enough to say 'fuck It and his stipulations' and be happy anyway. Like a big 'fuck you' to the clown.”

“Stan never was down with the clown,” Richie agrees. Eddie snorts with laughter. They sit in comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. A throat clears behind them, and Eddie thinks it might just be Stan, but it's actually Beverly, who is smiling widely.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asks, and it's only then Eddie notices Richie's hand is still linked with his own.

“Hell yeah,” Richie says. “Want a shot? Eddie's buying. Being a risk gas-lighter is lucrative work.”

“Analyst!” Eddie snaps.

“Whatever man, sounds like you hype people up about scenarios that never happen and then take their money for it.”

“My job is to think about things other people don't think about for safety measures and—“

“So you've been doing this job since birth and are only just now raking in the bankroll?” He scrunches up his face and makes his voice go high and whiny. 'Guys, come on, it's gray water and it's filled with so much bacteria and all your skin's gonna fall off and I'll get grounded—'”

Somewhere in the flurry of limbs that is Eddie trying to launch at Richie, they let go of each other's hands, but Eddie feels the warmth for a little while after.

***

Mike and Bill return, and Bill is one-hundred percent on board for whatever Mike's plan is, which means the rest of them are too. Eddie knows well enough he'd follow Bill back to Hell if Bill asked him to, because Bill has always treated Eddie like a person, and when Bill puts his mind to something, the rest seems like an inevitability.

They trek behind Mike, all of them riled on manic energy and a desire to end It for good. Unbeknownst to the others, Stan is there too, walking beside Eddie, who trails behind so he can murmur to him without being overheard.

“What do you know about Mike's plan?” Eddie asks, and Stan smirks.

“It's amazing how much you really believe me. I thought as soon as you were the only one who could see me, I was fucked,” Stan says.

“Well, you haven't tried to kill me yet. Pennywise would've by now. And besides, I already said you don't feel like him. He was—is—really bad at imitations.”

They walk for a bit longer in silence before Stan answers.

“Being dead is weird,” he says, and Eddie doesn't know if it would be wrong to laugh at that, so he settles for saying nothing. “It's like time isn't linear to me anymore. I can be pretty much wherever, and I see other things happening, and then I have to straighten out what applies to the here and now. Here and now for you, not for me. Because I'm not here anymore so I don't have a now.”

“I...think I get that?” Eddie says.

“The ritual isn't going to work,” Stan says.

“I didn't think it would. Why does Bill think it will?”

“Because Bill needs for It to be dead. And he only knows half of what Mike knows.”

“So Mike's lying?” Eddie asks, getting pissed off at Mike all over again.

“Mike needs to believe it will work. It's all he has, really.”

“Jesus.” Eddie sighs and shuts up for a second when Richie turns to look at him curiously.

“I don't know why I'm still here. I keep trying to figure it out, and what I've guessed is that I need to stop you from being killed. I can't...change a lot about what's going to happen. If I do too much, I could mess everything up, so I can't tell you all I know. Maybe it'll make things much different, maybe not. But things aren't going to be fixed if we both die,” Stan says.

“Neither of us should die,” Eddie mutters, and Stan doesn't look at him, just keeps walking.

“One of us was going to. You don't get to have a perfect ending, right? I wish I could change everything, I do. I wish I could go back in time and stop Georgie from dying too, but it doesn't work that way. I can only interact with you. So you're the one I'm going to save.” Stan's eyes soften, and he looks affectionately at Eddie. “I love you, Eds. You don't deserve to die, and I'm going to fix it.”

All over again, Eddie is crying. The people he loves most in the world are walking with him, and one of them is dead. It isn't fair.

“I'm sorry, Stan,” Eddie says softly, wiping at his eyes. “I don't mean to keep being a baby, it's just a lot. It's a lot.”

“I know,” Stan says.

“The others, what happens to them? When I die?”

“Some of them work it out,” Stan says. “They don't get over you. Or me. But I think you're the straw that breaks the camel's back. Richie, um. He's especially not okay.”

Eddie looks at Richie's back as they walk, his hands clenching into fists.

“He gets about two more years,” Stan continues quietly. The implications hang.

“Oh god. Does...does he...?”

“He doesn't do it to himself, like me. Not intentionally, anyway. He drinks too much and ends up crashing his car. But he's a wreck the entire time. I never want to see him that way again.”

Stan and Richie were always best friends in a way that used to make Eddie's hackles rise on instinct, and...still does. He bristles in that familiar way because Stan knows Richie so well and cares so much for Richie, and Eddie selfishly wants Richie's attentions that way, too. He's still remembering new things, and being desperate for Richie's attention and then being overwhelmed when he got it is something he's recalling with alarming intensity.

“That can't happen!” Eddie hisses, filled with fury at the thought of Richie being so broken up about him that he never gets over it. And the others will lose three friends? It's not something Eddie can bear to think about. “Why does— Why's he lose it so much over...?”

“Are you really asking me this?” Stan asks tiredly, and when he looks at Eddie in that way he always used to, annoyed and exasperated, Eddie finds himself losing it all over again, just like he always used to.

“No, fuck, no, that's not okay, you can't just fucking spring shit like this on me and then— What the fuck does that even mean, I don't know shit.”

“Eddie?” Bill asks, and Eddie whirls back to face the group, who got a little ahead of him. Eddie didn't even realize he stopped walking. “W-what is it?”

Eddie glances between their worried faces and settles on Richie's, whose eyes are wide with worry behind his glasses, and Eddie starts hyperventilating.

“Fucking shit, fucking—nnghh!” He reaches for the inhaler he knows he doesn't need, and he considers throwing it as hard as he can, but the thought passes because he does need it, just not in the way he thought he did. Instead he clutches it like a precious fucking artifact and doubles over as he uses it, inhaling the water vapor like it's an actual drug.

“Eddie!” Richie is suddenly there, patting his back, his shoulders. “What's wrong, what is it, c'mon—“

“It muh-might be...Pennywise,” Bill says.

Eddie shakes his head furiously and tries to force himself to breathe, getting madder when he can't. Isn't it such bullshit that even knowing something is all in your head doesn't make it stop? It's only worse somehow because his own mind is playing tricks on him. He both pushes Richie away and clings to him at the same time, and he settles for a death grip on Richie's sleeve.

“I can't—can't breathe,” he rasps, and Richie's arms fly around him, not too tight. He smells like cheap cologne and fake leather and it's the best thing Eddie's ever smelled in his pathetic life.

“It's okay, just focus on me. Focus on what I'm doing. Try to breathe when I do, okay? Yeah, that's good, you're doing good, Eds,” Richie says in a soothing voice. Eddie sobs at how much he loves the stupid nickname and how much it calms him down.

He thinks of how it would be if things were reversed, if he learned he was the one who had to go on without Richie in the future. He doesn't think he'd make it a whole two years, and that knowledge makes his heart break even more.

“He's okay,” Richie says to the others. Then, softer, to Eddie, “Just hang on to me, man, I'm here.”

“Richie,” he sobs, his voice wrecked. Richie curses and holds him tighter.

“Let's all just rest a minute,” Beverly says, and Eddie loves her. “It's been a long night and none of us have slept. It's amazing we aren't all having an attack.”

“But,” Mike starts, and Bill puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Just a f-few muh-minutes, Mike.”

Beverly lights a cigarette and Ben trails after her, looking lovesick as always. Eddie, meanwhile, realizes his hands are fisted in the back of Richie's jacket, but he doesn't let go because it's helping to ground him.

“Did you see something, Eds?” Richie asks quietly.

Eddie considers telling him, because Richie wouldn't think he was crazy. He doesn't know why exactly he isn't telling the others. They could probably help him figure things out, and surely they'd have things to ask Stan themselves. But if Eddie was going to tell any of them, it'd be Richie, because even Bill is willing to risk everything for a ritual that won't work out of pure desperation, and Richie is the only one as pissed off to be here as Eddie is. So, face still buried in Richie's neck, Eddie nods.

“What was it? You can tell me. I won't tell anyone else.”

“It's not...It. Since I got back here, since the restaurant, I... I see...” He sighs and breathes in Richie's scent more, letting it steel him. “It's Stan.”

“What?”

“He was there, sitting in his chair, and I just knew he was dead. I knew before anyone else. And I thought it was crazy, because I didn't remember Pennywise, but then I did and this—isn't that. It's not the clown. It's Stan, and he's dead, and only I can see him.”

“Eddie...”

“I know how it sounds, and I need you to believe me when I say it's not a trick. I can feel it.”

“But why would you be the only one who can see him? We all made the oath. We should all see him.”

“I think we will, one by one, when it's...the next one's turn to die.”

Richie's breath hitches, and he pulls back from Eddie, face stricken. He shakes his head.

“Bev said there wasn't an order!”

“She said that because it was in front of me, and she already knows I'm next. Stan was the weakest, and I'm the next one to go, so I can see him. After me, I don't know. Apparently Stan and I weren't supposed to survive this and everyone else was.” Eddie looks closely at Richie's face, and he makes a soft noise in his throat at all the anguish and fear he sees there. He reaches up before he can think better of it, his hand brushing Richie's cheek. “I need you to believe me.”

Richie leans into his hand almost desperately, his wild eyes searching over Eddie's face. “I do. I do fucking believe you, and I'm scared, okay? I can't—Eddie, I can't lose you too. I won't—“

He won't make it. He doesn't say that last part, but Eddie hears it anyway, and he hates that he knows just how true it is. The look on Richie's face and the way he holds tightly to Eddie screams implications that Eddie longs to believe, but he's scared to, because what if he's wrong?

Are you really asking me this? Stan had asked, like Eddie should just know why Richie can't let go of him. And maybe deep down, he does know why. He knows he wouldn't be able to let go of Richie, either. He knows it's why he's telling Richie, and no one else about Stan.

But now isn't the time to think about these things. Not when Pennywise is alive. Maybe not even later, because Eddie is married and too much of a coward to let himself have what he wants.

Maybe there will be time, at some incredible point, and since Stan said time isn't linear, he might know for sure when that is.

Eddie will remind himself to ask later.

***

They find the clubhouse and listen to Mike talk about the ritual that won't work. They remember Stan and his worries, always practical in a way Eddie never could be, and Eddie looks at the hammock with a blush on his face that's mirrored similarly on Richie's.

They stand side by side, shoulders touching. No one else comments on it. When Mike tells them they need to split up to retrieve their artifacts, Richie scoffs and throws an arm around Eddie's shoulders.

“No fucking way. We were together all that summer.”

“Not all of it,” Mike says, and they remember the fight. Richie glares at Bill.

“Oh, yeah. You punched me. You bastard.”

“Sorry,” Bill says in a way that says he's not all that sorry about it. “You said Guh-Georgie was d-dead.”

Eddie wasn't there for this fight, but he did hear about it. Richie had crawled through his window the night it happened, after Eddie got his arm set and was on pain pills, grounded and miserable. Richie was suddenly in his bed, sobbing, holding Eddie for dear life and saying he was sorry over and over for letting Eddie get hurt. Eddie was high off his mind but he pet Richie's hair and murmured it was fine and then Richie said Bill punched him. “You nearly died, Eds, you almost died and he didn't even fucking care and I was just so mad...” They didn't talk about it afterwards, because Eddie woke later to find Richie gone, and he wasn't entirely sure it wasn't a dream.

Richie narrows his eyes at Bill as if to say, “Yeah, well he WAS dead.” Eddie nudges Richie with his shoulder and gives him a look to shut him up. To the side of them, Beverly snorts.

“A lot of bad things happened,” Ben says nervously. “Getting mad about it now won't help. What do we need to do exactly, Mike?”

“You need to remember the rest of our story,” Mike says. “We've all got a good chunk of it now, but we have to know all of it for the ritual to work.”

Richie meets Eddie's eyes, his face sour. Eddie glares back at him, and they argue silently.

“No way we're separating,” Richie's face says.

“We have to,” Eddie's says in return. “This is why no one ever tells you secrets, because you're bad at keeping them.”

“What?” Richie's face says, because he doesn't understand the eyebrow thing Eddie just did. Eddie huffs and looks away from him. Richie is always missing important signals.

The others reluctantly go their separate ways, and Eddie stands with Richie and Stan in the middle of the Barrens, hands in his pockets.

“I'm going with you,” Richie says.

“I don't think it works that way,” Eddie says, looking to Stan. “Stan says we can't change too much. It'll fuck up the timeline or something.”

“What the fuck does that mean? Stan! Stan, where are you, you bastard, if you're as stubborn in death as you are in life you can talk to me, I'm sure of it!” Richie throws his hands up. Stan looks warily at him.

“C'mon, Rich, surely you know about some of this stuff. You get an opportunity to go back in time and kill a bad guy, but then you go back to your time and find out some other bad guy exists now and is even worse than the other one and you caused it? I don't know shit about time and ghosts and—stuff, but Stan seems adamant that only a few things can change. Right now, we need to separate.” Eddie gives Richie a smile that probably isn't convincing.

“What if it happens now?” Richie asks weakly.

“If what happens?”

“If I leave you alone and you die!” Richie barks. He looks almost unhinged. “I can't fucking live with that!”

“It's not now,” Stan says.

“Stan says it's not now,” Eddie repeats. Richie doesn't look convinced.

“How the fuck do we know this is even Stan?”

“Rich...” Eddie says tiredly.

“No, for real. I know you say it doesn't feel like Pennywise, but it's been twenty-seven goddamn years since we've seen the guy. He could be better at hiding it. How do we know it's really Stan? I'm gonna ask a question only the real Stan would know.”

“Go for it,” Stan says. Eddie just motions at Richie to go on.

“That same summer we thought we killed It, what did I tell him in confidence when we were alone in his room?” Richie asks triumphantly.

“Tell him he does not want me to answer that in front of you,” Stan tells Eddie. Eddie frowns and repeats it to Richie, whose eyes go wide and frantic.

“Not that!” Richie elaborates. “The other thing! It was when I stayed for dinner and his mom made pasta and...” Richie gestures a vague motion with his hand.

Stan makes a face and then wrinkles his nose. “The thing about him finding Tom Selleck's mustache attractive? I thought he was joking.”

“Something about Tom Selleck and his hot mustache?” Eddie asks Richie, whose mouth falls open.

“Shit,” Richie says.

“Mustaches are not attractive, for the record. Do you know how much bacteria gets caught in them daily? Think about how much you eat and drink in a day. Fucking gross,” Eddie says.

“Think about all the flesh eating bacteria in the razor you use to shave with, though,” Richie counters, and Eddie gapes at him, lost for words.

“Oh my god,” Eddie finally says.

“Yeah. You don't know everything. Should expand your risk analyst repertoire.”

“Did you fucking Google that word, you piece of—“

“Guys,” Stan hisses, exasperated.

“We're splitting up now,” Eddie says, pointing at Richie warningly. “So don't fucking die, okay, or I'll kill you again.”

“Really rich, coming from you. Aren't you on death row or something?” Richie asks.

“I'm telling you to be careful!”

“Then just say that!”

“This is Hell. This is Hell, and I must've been a horrible person,” Stan says to himself, and Eddie decides, yeah, okay, it's time to go.

***

Remembering just how badly his anxieties were and just how much adults used to enable him is somehow a highlight of his journey. Getting barfed on by the leper is the definitive low point. He marches through the townhouse, passing Beverly, covered in black filth.

“Are you okay?” Beverly asks.

“Fine, I'm fine,” he says flippantly, passing her quickly. He runs into Richie outside his room.

“Eds! Fuck, what—what's all over you?”

“Leper barf,” Eddie says in a far more level voice than he feels. “I need to shower now, immediately.”

“Yeah, okay, you do that. Um. Are you okay?” Richie asks uncertainly. Eddie laughs, and something about it must be unhinged, because Richie doesn't stop him  from going into his bathroom again.

Honestly, Eddie should have expected Bowers to be there with a knife, but as a risk analyst he knows better than most how hindsight is always twenty-twenty.

***

“Oh, fuck,” Beverly says as she examines the hole in his cheek. Ben is inside Eddie's room, looking for Bowers. Richie is looking at him, expression terrified.

“Is it bad?” Eddie asks.

“Looks rugged, Eds,” Richie says. He gives a shaky thumbs up.

“He's gone,” Ben says when he emerges. “I saw him drive off in his old car. How the fuck is that thing still running?” He looks down at Eddie with soft eyes. “You okay, buddy?”

“I'm great. Always wanted a hole in my face,” Eddie says.

“It went right through. Nothing major,” Beverly says.

“If I keep swallowing blood, I'm going to vomit,” Eddie says.

“Spit it out then,” Richie advises, his face still white, his hands in his pockets.

“Not to be dramatic,” Stan says, “but someone needs to get to the library, or Mike's gonna die.”

Eddie stands and ignores Beverly's attempts to wipe at his face with the rag.

“I'm fine, we can bandage it in the car. Right now, we have to go, okay? Please trust me.”

***

Seeing Richie kill a man is one of the worst things Eddie's ever seen in his life, and he's seen very questionable things in New York.

It's not so much the act itself. Eddie's seen far more blood and gore than the average person. It's seeing Richie do it that hurts so bad. Richie, hands shaking, launching to save Mike because the rest of them are frozen in fear.

“It's how it was supposed to happen,” Stan says, but Eddie doesn't feel relief. He feels sick with shame, because it should be him with blood on his hands. Richie doesn't deserve to live with this.

“Rich!” Eddie cries when Richie doubles over and vomits. Ben goes to Mike's side, and Eddie scrambles to Richie's. “Fuck, are you okay? Wait, no, that's stupid, I'm sorry. Just—what can I do?”

“Stan sucks as a fucking spirit guide,” Richie hisses, narrowing his eyes.

“What?” Eddie asks, staring at him blankly.

“You got stabbed! You could've been killed! And I just fucking killed a guy! Isn't all this, I don't know, things that could be avoided by people who know the future?!”

“Richie, we can't change that much. I told you that.” Eddie glances at Stan, who looks guilty and small. “I'm fine. You're fine. Mike's fine. It was him or Bowers, and you made the right call. I would've made the same call.”

“Eds,” Richie breathes. He leans forward and rests his forehead against Eddie's, his eyes closed. He looks so tired, and so stressed. Eddie hates all of this, but he knows there isn't much he can do to fix it.

“You're the best part about all of this,” Eddie says, because he needs to say something. Richie blinks owlishly at him. “I mean it, okay? Even back then you made it...easier. You'd say stupid shit, and make me mad, and it would distract me from the worst of it. I don't guess I ever thanked you for that, but I'm doing it now.”

“I need to...to tell you about what I saw today. When I got my artifact,” Richie says, and Eddie nods.

“Okay, yeah, I'll tell you what I saw, too.”

“Guys!” Mike's voice cuts through. “Bill's going to fight It alone. He's on his way to Neibolt.”

“This is it,” Stan says, and Eddie's hands grip tight to Richie's shoulders.

“We're going to talk later, okay? And we're going to walk out of that fucking house knowing It's dead this time. We're never going to wonder again.”

“Okay,” Richie breathes, looking dazedly into Eddie's eyes. “I'll fucking agree to anything you say, as long as you keep looking at me like that.”

“Now isn't really the time,” Stan says weakly, but it does nothing to dull the moment.

***

Honestly, going back down under Neibolt is a lot like the first time. They're all sure they're going to their deaths, and they know they have no choice. They hold each other a little tighter, argue a little less, and do their best to stay together.

But it doesn't work out, just like the first time.

The ritual fails, just as Stan said it would. They all get thrown apart, aside from Eddie and Richie, who get hurdled toward Pennywise's same old tricks.

For an eternal demon space clown, he sure is redundant.

Eddie's hand is in Richie's as they run from Pennywise, who until moments ago was a very cute Pomeranian. Eddie grips him desperately, afraid to let go. Eddie almost let Richie die because he was so scared. He's never going to let Richie go again.

“Fuck, fuck!” Richie shouts as they run. “It's tonight, right? It's gotta be tonight! When am I supposed to know when this shit is going down, if only you can see Stan?”

“Because you're clearly staying with me!” Eddie shouts back.

“Well fucking duh. Never leaving your shitty, fake asthmatic ass again!”

“Fine! Whatever! Don't then! See if I fucking care!”

“You fucking care alright, you stupid fucker—“

And then Mike is screaming, and a lot of things happen very quickly after that.

Richie taunts It, and gets caught in the deadlights, floating from the ground, blood from his nose rising through the air. Eddie realizes very quickly no one else is going to stop this from happening, and he swallows every fear he's ever had and launches forward with the spear Beverly gave him.

“BEEP BEEP, MOTHERFUCKER!”

He throws the spear, and barely notices it lands in It's gaping mouth, because Richie is falling to the ground, and Eddie only cares about that. Eddie lands on all fours over Richie, and he slaps at Richie's cheek as gently as he can.

“Hey! Richie! Hey! There he is, buddy!” Eddie says excitedly as Richie blinks awake from his stupor. “Hey, I think I got—“

“MOVE, EDDIE!” Stan yells, and Eddie doesn't think twice, just rolls off Richie and lays beside him, side by side. They watch as It's claw soars over their heads, swiping at where Eddie was moments before.

“Fuck,” Richie breathes.

“I think... I think that was...”

“Get O-OUT of there!” Bill shouts, and they're rolling over each other to scramble away towards the little alcove out of reach of Pennywise's frantic swipes.

“Eddie!” Beverly sobs, launching into his arms even as Pennywise shouts and curses them. “You—you were... You were going to...!”

“I know. It's okay now. I think we're all going to be fine.” He holds her as tightly as she's holding him.

“I knew... I knew you were supposed to be next. I didn't know how it would happen. I didn't remember Stan's until after I already knew he was gone.” She sobs. “I'd never let you die if I knew how it'd happen, Eddie, I swear.”

“Bev, I know. Stop crying, okay? I'm fine. I'm not going anywhere.” It all has to do with how much they're allowed to change. Eddie was supposed to be dying now, so anything that happens after this is new. He looks back, and for some reason, Stan is still there, looking as confused as Eddie is about it.

“I know how to kill It,” Eddie tells them. Richie's hands grip his shoulders.

“Stan?” he whispers for Eddie's ears only.

“No. This one's all me,” Eddie says, smiling at him, and Richie holds his gaze for a moment before looking down, suddenly shy, and Eddie thinks despite everything, it's one of the best things he's seen.

***

In the aftermath, when It stops screaming, all of their hands, even Stan's, crushing It's heart together, the fog immediately lifts.

It's almost like all of them wake up after being asleep, and everything they ever forgot about their town comes flooding back. Bill stops stuttering. Somehow, Eddie swears he feels the entire town waking up with them, though they were all much more asleep than the Losers. Maybe on the news later, instead of saying an earthquake or a sinkhole caused the old house on Neibolt street to cave in, the anchors will actually say it was something unexplainable.

Then again, Eddie isn't going to hold his breath. Baby steps, and all that. He'd be happy with them mentioning it at all.

Bill decides they should clean off in the quarry, and Eddie bites his tongue on his reservations. After everything, it seems counterproductive to lecture them all on the brain-eating amoeba, and it's definitely not hot enough for them right now anyway, and there aren't a whole lot of recorded cases in Maine, but just in case, he tells them all they should avoid getting water up their noses.

“Oh, Eddie,” Beverly says, looking at him. “I love you. I'm so glad you're here.”

Eddie grins at her, and then she jumps first, just like the first time. But this time, Eddie holds Richie's hand as they jump together, and even when they hit the water, they never lose their grip.

“For the record,” Eddie tells them, “I hate this.”

“Cleaning off in dirty water?” Beverly asks.

“Imagine how fucking pissed I'm going to be if I helped kill a psychotic horror space clown just to die from a bacterial infection.” He points at his cheek. “This thing is fresh. I swear to everything that might exist, I will haunt you all. I'll take turns between you.”

“Isn't he cute, guys?” Richie asks, looking down at him fondly.

“The cutest,” Ben agrees. Eddie splashes water at him.

“Eddie, I have to ask... How did you know all that you did? This whole time, you never saw the deadlights. I'm certain of it. And you knew more than me.” Beverly watches him with pale green eyes, and Eddie decides they should all know now that it's over.

“Stan. He's been here this whole time. He wanted to change our ending.”

“Stan?” Bill breathes.

“I was supposed to get skewered back there, that's all I know. Stan says time isn't linear, and things get mixed up sometimes, but if I'm lucky I'll stay far the fuck away from that alternative timeline,” Eddie says. “It's over. I'm alive because of Stan.”

“Oh,” Beverly gasps, her eyes filling with tears.

“That time... When we found him with that woman from the painting, do you think...?” Mike asks.

“Yeah. I think he saw the deadlights. He was never the same, after that,” Bill says.

None of them ask how Beverly saw them so long ago and is still alive. They don't need to. Stan was a kind, soft-hearted man, and Beverly is a loving, fiery woman who has had to fight all her life. Things are different, people are different. Comparing them would be a disservice to them both.

Eddie looks over at Stan, who is watching them sullenly. He looks so out of place, and Eddie years for him to be part of this, or to pass on. He wants Stan to be at peace. He's earned it.

“Love you, Stan,” Richie calls to where Eddie is looking. All of the Losers call out to Stan, though only one of them can actually see him.

Stan sobs and waves from the shore.

***

Going back to the townhouse isn't ideal.

For one thing, Eddie got stabbed in the bathroom, and it's probably still covered in his and Bowers's blood. For another thing, despite loving his friends, Eddie is ready to get the hell out of Derry.

He's sure the others feel the same way.

It's overwhelmingly sunny outside, and Eddie has been up for over twenty-four hours by this point. They're all still riding their adrenaline rushes, but they're all going to crash very soon. Eddie waves to them before bounding up the stairs as fast as he can to retrieve some clothes and find a clean bathroom to shower in, but somehow, his bathroom is clean, and a new shower curtain is hanging up.

“So someone does work here...” he says to himself, but he can't question it too much, because if he doesn't clean himself off now he's going to lose his mind. He scrubs himself until his skin is pink and agitated, and then he dresses in some sweatpants and calls Myra for the first time since arriving, deciding now is as good a time as any.

He puts his wedding ring on the dresser, knowing he's not going to pick it up again.

The call doesn't go well. He finds himself caring less and less about what she's saying but he holds the phone to his ear and offers little mm-hmm's as she rants at him, and at some point he just passes out, completely and totally exhausted, phone still in his hand.

***

His dreams shift back and forth between things he recalls vaguely, and things he never knew. A life that isn't his flashes before his eyes, and while he sees himself in these memories, he knows he isn't seeing himself through his own eyes.

A creepy house on Neibolt street, Eddie's arm breaking, Eddie being lifted into Mike's newspaper basket and then being carted off by his angry mother. An argument with Bill, heated words that end in him laying on the ground, overwhelmed with hurt and betrayal.

Richie. These are Richie's memories.

Richie in an arcade playing with a boy with sandy blond hair, both of them laughing until Bowers shows up and all but chases Richie from the building, the word faggot following in Richie's wake. Fear, sick shame, the words echo in Richie's mind as he sits in the park and sobs into his hands.

Pennywise. A secret.

The kissing bridge. Richie's shaky hands as he carves letters into the wood that mean more to him than anything in the world, but he can't bring himself to say it. His hands linger over the carving. He quickly gets on his bike and peddles away, ignoring pain from the multiple splinters he got.

Reuniting. Killing Pennywise the first time. Holding Eddie's bloody hand and hating how much he still likes the excuse to do so.

Things after that look fuzzy, and it's parts of Richie's life Eddie never knew about, because this was after their memories of each other were gone.

Doing stand up for small crowds and having to stay and clean the floors after, drinking so much he barely knows how he makes it home some nights, sketched out buildings and copious drugs as he tries to rub elbows with the right people. Bigger crowds, more drinking, signing a contract hiring writers because his own jokes are too controversial, but you're hilarious either way, Rich.

Getting pushed into walls, thrown into beds, sobbing quietly into his hands in the aftermath because no one feels right, and he's looking for a certain shape he can't remember but he knows is real.

A phone call. A promise. Feelings returning as soon as he sees a dark haired man with big brown eyes standing across a restaurant. The same man above him, torn through with a claw in his middle, his blood all over Richie, his mouth sobbing Richie's name.

Eddie cries because he knows what's coming. This is the life that Stan saw. The reality that could've been, had Stan not saved him.

Richie, dragged away from Eddie's body, kicking and screaming, because he'd rather die with Eddie than live without him. A breakdown in the water. Re-carving something he knew twenty-seven years prior but knows all the more now. Going back to his old life and drinking himself to death day by day, blocking calls and numbers and texts from concerned friends, dreaming every night of Eddie and breaking down every morning, though it's exactly the same dream every time.

Getting behind the wheel of his car when he's wasted and accelerating even as he nears a sharp curve because he just doesn't care anymore...

Eddie wakes with a sharp cry and struggles to breathe, but he doesn't reach for his inhaler. There's warmth behind him, and he turns to see Richie sleeping next to him, his arms around Eddie, his brow furrowed from his own bad dreams.

The room is darker than it was when he passed out on the phone with Myra. He has no idea how much time has passed, but his body feels stiff, like he's been sleeping for a long time without moving. He groans softly and rolls over, putting his hands on Richie's face and smoothing out the worry lines.

“N-no...Eddie... Please, no...!” Richie whimpers, and Eddie wonders if they were seeing the same thing. Those alternate timelines. He wonders if it was Stan that made them see it.

“Richie. Hey. Rich!” Eddie shakes him and Richie's eyes fly open, wild and frantic, and they settle on Eddie. “There he is.” Eddie smiles at him.

“Eds,” Richie sobs, and he lunges at Eddie, scooping him up and clinging to him so tightly Eddie worries for his own spine. He pets through Richie's hair and tries to be soothing, though he's not the best at it. “You died. I saw you die. I saw me live without you and, I...”

“That's over. It's not happening, okay? We avoided that. I'm here, and I'm with you.”

Richie puts his hand over Eddie's bare chest, his breath stilling when he feels the steady thumping of Eddie's heart. He looks broken up and terrified.

“I got into your bed,” Richie says after a while, because he always has to say something. Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I figured I didn't carry you here, asshole.”

“I wasn't planning on it. I wanted to pop my head in to ask, at least, but you were asleep, and some woman was yelling at you on the phone. I hung up on her for you.”

“That was Myra. I told her I want a divorce.”

Richie nods, and his hand finds Eddie's left hand, his thumb swiping over Eddie's fingers to feel for a ring that's no longer there. He's still being so careful, like he's afraid he's misreading things between them.

“Guess she didn't take that well, then,” Richie says.

“No shit. She threatened to sue me.” Eddie grins when Richie snorts.

“For what?”

“I dunno, breach of contract? Like, I signed up to love her forever and I lied? I told her divorce exists, and has for a long ass time, and then she yelled at me for cursing at her.” Eddie sighs. “Christ. When I think of how much time I wasted. I never knew I could do better. Have better.” Eddie curls his fingers into Richie's hair, scratching lightly and lovingly at Richie's scalp. Richie shivers.

“So after I hung up on her for you, I just decided, I wanna spoon Eds, so I did. Sorry if that's creepy. I mean, I know it's creepy. But I had to be with you, okay? I have to be with you,” Richie babbles. “You're the most important thing in the fucking world to me.”

“You carved our initials in the kissing bridge.” Eddie grins at Richie's shocked expression. “We had the same dream. I saw you doing it.”

“Guess the fucking cat's out of the bag, then,” Richie says. “Why'd we have the same dream? Do you think everyone did?”

“No. I think Stan needed us to see that. I think we needed to know what it would be like to...lose each other. What we could have missed out on.”

“Stan.” Richie nods. “Is he still here?”

Eddie doesn't even look around. He knows the answer without checking. “No. I don't think he's coming back anymore.” Stan needed them to all be happy. He saved Eddie, and he left Eddie in Richie's arms. Stan knows they'll all be fine, now.

“Eds,” Richie breathes, and then Eddie leans forward and kisses him.

“I love you,” Eddie says, because Richie needs to hear it. Richie's face crumples in a way that worries the hell out of Eddie for a second, but then it's like a dam breaks, and Richie is hovering over him, pressing him in the bed, and kissing him like his life depends on it.

“I fucking— I've always loved you. Even when we were kids and I didn't know that's what it was. Even when I couldn't remember. No one was ever right, because no one was—“

“I know,” Eddie reminds him. “I saw.”

Richie seems to suddenly comprehend their position, and he looks bashful for all of a second before Eddie is pulling him back down, kissing him harder, rubbing up against him with intent. Richie melts on top of him, groaning into Eddie's mouth in a way that shouldn't be as ridiculously hot as it is. Richie pulls back to look at him, pupils wide, hair wrecked. Eddie imagines he looks the same.

“You're fucking beautiful, Eds,” Richie whispers, sounding emotional about it. “I've always, just— I've wanted this for so long, and...”

“Hey,” Eddie murmurs. “I want this, too. I want you. Stop thinking so much.”

“Sounds crazy, coming from you. How are you the calm one, here?”

“I don't know. Maybe because this is finally happening? Maybe because It's dead for good now, and being scared to have what I want is too bizarre to even think about. I fucking earned having this. We both did. And nothing else matters because even if you're bad in bed, I'll still love you because you're you and...” Eddie laughs softly, shaking his head. “I've been yours for as long as I can remember. I don't think that's going to change.”

Richie's mouth hangs open comically, and then he's glaring down at Eddie, no real heat to it. “First of all, I'm great in the sack.”

“Okay.”

“Second of all, you're goddamn right you're mine.” Richie pauses. “But, uh. To reiterate the first talking point, I don't think I'm gonna last long.”

Eddie peers up at him. “Really?”

“Dude, you're literally every wet dream I've ever had. I've never really planned to get this far.” Richie grinds down against him, and Eddie's eyes slide closed at the friction. It's overwhelming how hard Richie already is just from kissing him.

“Fuck, Rich...” Eddie licks his lips, nervous now. “No one's ever... I mean, I guess I never thought of myself as the kind of person someone could have wet dreams about. I'm not exactly Ben, you know?”

“Oh, baby,” Richie coos, “I'm gonna show you just how much I want you.” He reaches down and slides Eddie's sweatpants off. “It's a good thing Stan passed on. I don't think he'd wanna watch what I'm about to do to you.”

It is over quickly, but Eddie can't make fun of anything because he's the one coming first. Richie presses him into the bed, his big hand pumping both their dicks, his mouth against Eddie's ear murmuring filthy things one second and loving praises the next. Eddie's nails rake down his back because it's so much and they're barely even having sex at all.

Is this what it could have been like all these years?

“That's it, Eds, fuck, you're so good, so good for me,” Richie gasps as Eddie trembles under him, crying out curses and Richie's name. Eddie bites down into Richie's shoulder and Richie seizes above him, groaning loudly as he spills himself into his hand. He falls gracelessly onto Eddie, who's too blown apart to even comment on the mess between their bodies.

“Holy shit,” Richie breathes. “You're even scrappy in bed. I fucking knew you would be.”

“Shut up,” Eddie says, but he pulls Richie even closer and runs his fingers soothingly along the scratch marks on Richie's back. “You've got about five minutes before I'm dragging you to the shower.”

“Mm. Enough time to bask, I guess,” Richie hums, and he lifts his head to lick into Eddie's mouth, and it ends up actually being about ten minutes, but who's counting anyway?

***

“Hey bitches,” Richie announces as they arrive at the restaurant and meet the other Losers. He holds up Eddie's hand. “Me and Eds are fucking now. Please contain your disappointment at missing out on the chance to get with me, I know I'm hot stuff. Looking at you here, Ben.”

“Beep fucking beep, Richie!” Eddie hisses, yanking his hand away and shoving Richie hard enough that he actually stumbles.

“Well, it's about time,” Beverly says, a wide smile on her face.

“Wait. You aren't kidding? Like, I always thought it was a weird courting thing you were doing, but it's also Richie, so it's hard to tell,” Mike says.

“He's my rebound,” Eddie says. “I'm getting divorced.”

“Hey, me too,” Beverly says. “Let's order a few drinks and toast to that.”

“I'm happy for you guys,” Bill says, looking at them with a smile so wide his eyes crinkle in the corners, and Eddie still feels weightless just from Bill's approval.

Ben moves forward and actually picks Eddie up, and Eddie squawks in protest.

“Damn, Haystack, if you want Eds, you gotta take me too. We're kind of a package deal now,” Richie says.

“I'm just so happy,” Ben says, putting Eddie down and moving to hug Richie, who reciprocates much better than Eddie did. “I love you guys so much.”

“Ben's had a few celebratory mimosas today,” Beverly explains as Ben weeps a little.

“Get a man drunk and toss him my way,” Richie says. “I like how you think, Marsh.”

They order drinks and way too much food, and they laugh and talk and celebrate the proper way, no demon clown looming over them this time. Ben leans into Beverly and keeps kissing her hair, and Mike announces he's moving to Florida at the beginning of the month. Bill is going to go home and take Audra on the fanciest date he can, and then he's going to start a new book.

“Is the ending gonna suck?” Richie asks, and Bill tosses a napkin at him.

“What are you two lovebirds gonna do?” Beverly asks Richie.

“I'm gonna go back to Cali and work on my act. I'm already in talks with Netflix for a special but I think I'd like to write my own jokes for it. Gotta see if I can let go of my writers without getting sued or something. I'm not exactly in the good graces right now since my stage meltdown.”

“And I've gotta go back to New York and file for divorce. Or maybe Myra's already done that. I'm sure she's going to try and take me for all I'm worth, but that's fine. I just want to get away from that life.” Eddie takes a sip of his wine. “I want a fresh start.”

“You can always come live with me,” Richie says. “I kind of love you.”

“I was already planning on it, asshole. I've been Googling jobs in LA all morning.”

“Fuck yeah. Gonna shack up with my Eds here, gonna be a hot comedian. Life's looking up for old Richie Tozier.” He smiles at Eddie, and they both know the other is thinking about that life they saw before, the one that could've been if Eddie had died. Eddie leans forward and kisses him, squeezing Richie's thigh under the table, because that future is never happening. Eddie's going to make sure of it.

“I wanna toast to Stan,” Bill says softly, watching Richie and Eddie fondly. “We owe a lot to him. We always did, but...even more so now.”

They raise their glasses to Stan, and even though Stan's gone for good now, Eddie looks over to Stan's empty chair, still present at their table, and he feels like Stan is there, with them, happy for them all.

***

Eddie drops off his rental car and then clamors into Richie's, stuffing his suitcases in the backseat.

“Should've just taken my rental to the airport. This car is fucking ridiculous, Rich.”

“You chose a different rental place. I got this baby from the airport. Makes more sense to take mine. Besides, you better get used to this car, because I've got one just like it at home,” Richie says.

“Of course you do.”

They drive past all the old sights, which aren't much to behold, but they're full of memories. As they near the kissing bridge, Eddie squeezes Richie's shoulder.

“Stop the car. I wanna see it for real.”

Richie hesitates, but he pulls over, and Eddie exits the car and goes to the end of the bridge where he saw a younger Richie carving into the wood twenty-seven years prior, almost sick with fear, but so determined, too. Eddie runs his fingers carefully over the carving, a smile on his lips.

“Do you have a knife with you?” he asks Richie, who nods and hands it over, his hands going into his pockets as he watches Eddie lean over and refresh the carving.

“There,” Eddie announces. He added a little heart next to it, and it looks a little wonky, but it looks pretty cute, too. He turns back to Richie, who is all but blubbering silently into his hands.

“I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm just— I'm really happy. These are good tears, man,” Richie says, and Eddie moves into his space, pulling him down into a tight hug, letting him get it all out. “I love you so much,” Richie adds, and Eddie laughs softly.

“Love you too. Now c'mon, let's get the fuck out of Derry.”

As they leave the bridge and the rest of the town behind, Eddie pulls out his phone and laughs at what Ben added to their Loser's group chat. He reads it out to Richie, who tells Eddie what to type in response, and Eddie grins at him as Richie threads their fingers together and kisses Eddie's hand.

So many possible endings, but this is theirs now, and they won't have to wait long until they're back together again. Eddie knows he won't ever leave Richie's side again after they reunite, just like when they were kids and clumsily always sought each other out, not knowing why.

Now they know well enough.

[teenagedirtbag21]

DoL Lis losing their virginity to you

Yes, I know that some actually are still virgins in game, but there's no special event for them to lose their virginity so y'know, have this. And im really writing this because the thought of Whitney or Eden being a virgin when you first have intercourse is so funny to me.

Some of these are gonna seem out of character, but thats because its obviously before they become complete sex crazed lunatics.

----------------------------

Robin

Robin never really thought about sex until you had began spending more time with him. You were his friend, his absolutely perfect gorgeous friend who had no business being in his mind as he stroked his hard cock. He felt guilty thinking about you in such a way, but he couldn't help it. You were just so good to him, treated him so well and made him feel better about himself. Its not his fault you had decided to wear such a low cut shirt today, causing him to get hard and forcing him to cover it until you left for bed.

He doesn't even realize you coming into his room, much to busy with moaning your name with his eyes screwed shut. You couldn't help but crawl onto the bed beside him, startling him. He covers himself up, trying to do anything to make it go away but dammit, you're still wearing that shirt and you liked your lips so perfectly.

Hes a whining, moaning mess underneath you, his eyes locked with yours as you rode his dick slowly. He's frantically moaning praises to you, on the edge of cumming the entire time as his fingers dig into your thighs. He finally released deep inside you when you lean down and press soft kisses to his neck, whining loudly and rutting up into you.

Kylar

You had come home after a short shift, walking into your room to the sight of Kylar stood by your dirty laundry basket, a pair of your worn panties wrapped around his cock. He was thoroughly embarrassed, he began apologizing profusely. You came home early! It wasn't his fault, really. Stressed and in need of some relaxation, you lock your door and strip to your underwear.

Kylar eyed you hungrily, face red but cock hard in lust. He practically ripped your panties off your body after you okayed it. During the act your panties never left his hand, the warmth and intoxicating scent made him cum ten times harder. He finishes deep inside you, panties pressed to his face, babbling about the 'freshness' of them.

Sydney

Sweet Sydney. It would happen like in the movies. Hes talked about it with Sirris before hand, making arrangements for him to be conveniently gone that night and getting extra tips on how to make you feel good. He wants tonight to be perfect. Invites you to his place, cooks a beautiful romantic dinner, buys you flowers and showers you with love.

Going almost feral over your naked form, his hands never leave your body. He so sweet and passionate, his thrusts were soft and slow as to not hurt you. It lasts a long time, he enjoyed watching you cum multiple times on his cock. I guess it really pays off to have a dad who teaches sex ed.

Whitney

Poor Whitney's watched so much porn and craves sex so bad, but doesn't know how to go about finding someone to fuck. He doesn't care about having a 'special' first time, he just wants to make sure it's his partners first time too, to ensure he's good and can't be told how bad he is or, God forbid, they find out he was a virgin.

Thats when he finds you. He knows the demeanors of a virgin, and you most definitely are one. Hes cocky and confident around you, making you assume he's a player. Then you're in the bedroom together, both of you completely naked and he wears the same lost look as you.

His rough hands trail down your body, face red as he examines each of your curves. He grips your hips as he finally sinks into you, nails digging in as he attempts to stifle the moan in his throat. It felt so damn good, so tight and perfect. His thrusts are hard and fast, as hes seen in videos, and he ends up finishing inside of you when he looks down to the sight of you being split open on his cock.

Eden

Eden never cared for sex, never had anyone he wanted to be that close with. Read about it in steamy romance novels, jerked off and went on his way. That is until you had stopped at his cabin, soaked from the rain, scared, insisting something was following you and begging for a place to stay for the night.

Eden was confused why someone as dainty as you would be in the forest this late at night, in this weather. But he didn't question it when you were visibly shaking, your wet clothes clung to your body in such a way is made his heart skip a beat. He offered to warm you up, he wants to be a good host and calm your nerves. Can't do that while your wearing such cold clothes, here, take this blanket and go sit by the fireplace.

Hes leant over top of you, pressing soft kisses to your exposed neck. You never slept with complete strangers, but something about him was different. He was sweet, when you finally agreed that is. He slides into you so softly, moaning in your ear about how good feel around his cock. Once finished he's going to try to keep you there, suggesting you stay another day to ensure the threat is gone, he'll escort you out himself in just a few days, its raining now! Every night after the first he uses you, multiple times if he can, getting rougher and more cruel each round.

Avery

Avery could had had sex anytime in high-school, his wealth alone was enough to make women swoon for him, throw in his pristine look and charm and he's done for. But no matter how many women came onto him, none were very up to his very high standards. He has a reputation to keep up, if anyone found out he was fooling around with such slots, he'd be ruined.

Then one day he had a conversation with the sweetest thing, you. You didn't swoon for him like the others, didn't talk about his wealthy parents or even acknowledge his high up social status. He was conflicted, why didn't you know how important he was? And why did he love it?

After a particularly extravagant date, he takes you back to his house, a place you'd consider to be a mansion. He's holding your hand the entire time, whimpering in your ear about how good you are to him, how you deserve the whole world.

Alex

Alex didn't really have much time to think about sex. He'd just rub one out each morning to rid himself of frustration, but thats about it. He's much too stressed looking after his younger siblings, worrying about his parents opinions and taking care of his farm. There really wasn't any time for girls, not that he knew any anyway.

Then you stopped by, asking for work. You didn't look like you'd be fit to work on a farm, but you had a sense of determination and he wasn't really in much of a place to deny help. He grew to enjoy your presence, he found himself staying up at night wondering if you'd be coming back the next day, thinking about your beautiful smile, about the way your clothes hugged your body and the way your hips moved when walking.

It starts pouring when you're both working in the fields, completely soaking your clothes. He places a hand on your waist, face red as he examined your chest through your soaked shirt. Its sloppy and wet, loud moans echoing around the empty field as he pounded into you. He's groaning soft praises, telling you how long he's been thinking about this. Once finished he asks you to move in with him, will go another round if you say yes.

Bonus;

Wren

Wren never really cared for sex, instead he focused on gambling, committing crimes and generally being a menace to society. It wasn't until his partners and associates started patronizing him for not being with a woman and never joining them during the dirty parties they host.

"Its like you're a virgin!" His coworkers words played through his mind as he stood at the docks, gun in hand. He was upset. Was it wrong that he never had much desire to fuck a woman? His thoughts are pulled as he sees a figure sneaking into the docks. A smirk is splayed on his face at the sight of you, so precious and innocent looking. His cock twitched when you cursed at him, told him to get the gun out of your face. And he loved it.

He let you go after that, but started to make it much easier for you to get back in afterwards. He pulled some strings and made sure it was only him there one night. He sits with you by the water as usual, but his kisses were much more lustful and demanding. He was so sweet, ensuring you were okay with every small action he did and fingering you slowly until you convulsed on his fingers. He slides into you so softly and slowly, relishing in the pleasured faces you pulled and small whines you made. He cums hard when you reach up to cup his face lovingly, muttering the sweetest things to him. He mumbles and 'I love you' against your skin afterwards.

Bailey

Genuinely never cared about sex. Even goes as far to say its stupid and pointless. Being so intimate and vulnerable with someone? No thank you. Its not like he finds girls unappealing, he's found many women hot and 'fuckable' as his friends say it, but he doesn't see the point in when he has his hand and doesn't have to put up with all the sappy shit.

That is, until one day he's so frustrated, upset about the current caretaker demanding he start bringing more money. He barely knew you, just knew you were the cute girl who had a crush on him and conveniently stayed in the room beside his. He could hear your soft moans through his wall sometimes as you pleasured yourself, sometimes he'd even stroke himself to the sounds and came when you did.

Now he needed you, needed someone to take this frustration out on. Bending you over the bed, he doesn't wait for your okay as he rakes your pants down. He knows you want this, if your moans at night and 'subtle' stares were any indication. Hes so rough, nails digging into your hips as he slams you back against him. He doesn't care about you, doesn't care when you're begging him to slow down because it hurts, he needs to cum and you just happened to be the best thing. He finishes with a loud moan, his body shuddering as he fills your insides. Mutters a soft 'thank you' before pulling out, adjusting himself and leaving with a red face.

[afictionalwhore]

SDV Bachelors’ Love Languages (hc) and a little bit of kinks

Who said they were never going to do headcanons again? Not me!

Why? Because I’m addicted to Stardew. Also finding pictures of these men to make good headers is difficult. I just gave up.

Some of these are NFSW!

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Shane: Acts of Service and Physical Touch

Shane is worried that you’re going to think he thinks you can’t handle yourself when he tries to make your life as easy and comfortable as possible. This isn’t true at all. He thinks that you work incredibly hard and wants to be there for you to take the break you deserve.

He likes to wake up early to help you with the animals like how he did on his aunt’s ranch. The stability and routine of it is comforting to him because it’s life with you.

If you’re not up and watering crops by the time he’s done with the animals, he’ll make breakfast for you

He loves making you breakfast in bed, typically an omelette made with fresh milk and eggs. He’ll do hashbrowns too if you have potatoes in stock/ready to harvest.

A service switch. His biggest turn on is getting you off, so he wants to make sure you’ve cum several times before he starts working on himself. If there’s anything new you want to try, just talk to him. He’ll try anything once if he thinks it’ll make you happy. He usually doms, but if you want to be on top, don’t hesitate to ask; he’ll gladly let you.

───────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─────────

Sebastian: Quality Time and Physical Touch

Isn’t really one for showing affection in any way until he really is sure that his feelings are reciprocated. Once he’s sure of how you feel, this man is nothing short of romantic.

While dating or before, just when he realizes he’s starting to fall, he tells you to come visit anytime. He likes when you’re just there. This carried over into married life.

Sebastian is still a loner and an introvert. He wants to spend time with you but he feels smothered if the two of you are always doing something together. He wants to be in the same area as you and loves sitting with you and reading his comics while you scroll through your phone. Before you were married, he loved when you’d visit while he was working, even if all you did was take a nap on his couch after mining all morning.

He’s not one for PDA, but will hold your hand at festivals if you really want to. When you’re at home, or in his room before you’re married, this man will absolutely cling to you. He wants to snuggle during movie nights. He falls asleep spooning you. He wants to hold you and watch while you cook dinner. He wants to lay in your lap and have you play with his hair.

A little bit of words of affirmation, but this is because he’s not sure how to show how he feels and wants to make sure you know. He also wants to be reassured of how you feel and hearing it is nice.

Body worship. Seb loves every part of you. While he may not be very vocal about it, he’s not gonna leave any part of you unloved, smothering you with kisses and soft whispered praises. Seb loves going down on you and making you feel good.

He’s a bit of a masochist. He loves when you’re rough with him. Pulling his hair and scratching his back. He also has a sadistic streak though, if he gets the okay from you. He enjoys pulling your hair and edging you until you’re crying for him.

Seb is also probably into bdsm because of the level of trust. There’s a lot of things he wants to try and he’s excited to finally have someone he trusts enough to try it with. Fully trusting someone is very important to him. Once he had the okay from you, nothing is off the table. This man wants to try everything from bondage to choking to knife play.

───────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─────────

Elliot: Words of Affirmation and Physical Touch

This man is a writer, so there is no shortage of love notes in your lunchbox/tacklebox/backpack.

You’re his muse. You inspire all his writings. Even if a poem looks like it’s about the sea or some other part of nature, it’s really about you.

Elliot is really going for that Jane Austen type feeling of romance. Leaning into that, Elliot loves dancing with you in your home.

Hearing how you feel is very important to Elliot. He likes to start the day with a kiss and hearing “I love you!”

Pet names! Elliot is going to call you “honey”, “sweetheart”, “cherie”, “darling”. He’ll call you his turtle if he thought he could make it romantic.

Elliot finds warmth in your touch and he’s obviously going to tell you this in the most poetic way possibly.

Elliot is one to mindlessly trace patterns over your skin as the two of you are cuddling and he loves having his hair played with.

Praise. Kink. He’s going to shower you in praises. He’s going to call you his good girl/boy. He’s gonna tell you that you’re taking him oh so well. “You’re doing great baby, just like that.”

Elliot is also going to smother you in kisses. Elliot’s kisses are very passionate, as is sex with him. Elliot prefers heavy passionate love making.

The praise kink goes both ways. He loves when you tell him how good he feels and beg him not to stop, right. “You’re so good, daddy,” will make this man feral.

───────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─────────

Harvey: Acts of Service and Quality Time

Harvey is very busy as the only doctor in town, so his time is incredibly precious to him. That being said, any time spent with you means the world to Harvey.

Harvey loves trying to help make your life easier. He also appreciates when you do little things for him, like pack a lunch for him to take to the office.

Harvey is very awkward, so words and touch don’t mean a lot to him. He’ll tell you how he feels if he wants you

Role play. I’ve had so many people tell me this one and ya know. I cannot disagree. Harvey absolutely goes nuts when you call him “captain” and when you bought that flight attendant outfit.

He’s also not above going down to his office after hours and “curing your hysteria.”

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Alex: Words of Affirmation and Acts of Service

Like Alex always needs to hear about how he’s gonna be a great sports star, he always needs to hear that you love him.

But Alex is also going to tell you every day how much he loves you, how much you mean to him.

You never have to worry about what to wear because Alex thinks you look beautiful in everything and let’s you know it.

Alex isn’t really one for touching. With his past, he’s probably adverse to touch at first, but will eventually relax into your touch.

While it may have started out with him having to prove his masculinity, Alex found that he genuinely enjoys doing things for you. He’s learning how to fix things and do farm work to make your life easier.

Alex is the least kinkiest here. If you ask to try something new, he’ll probably just be like “a new position?” Not that he wouldn’t be excited to try a new position.

I think he could also be convinced to do some light bondage.

───────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─────────

Sam: Physical Touch and Gift Giving

Sam is very touchy-feely from the get go. He’s not afraid of PDA at all. He wants his arm around you at all times. He’s stealing kisses at every opportunity.

Sam wants to be all over you. If you’re sitting, Sam will somehow find his way into your lap. He’s like a puppy. If he fits, he sits; if he don’t fit, he will make himself fit.

Sam doesn’t necessarily go out and buy you gifts. Instead, he gives you flowers he picked and things like that.

Sam would absolutely get you matching stuffed animals he won at a festival.

Sam would also write songs for you! He’s just so excited that he runs straight for you, guitar in hand, and starts playing.

Sam, like Alex, probably isn’t as kinky as the others. Sam probably likes to tease and spank, but with Sam, sex is definitely goofy. It’s a great time when you’re both laughing.