#i could maybe change to the denim(?) blue | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dfortrafalgar · 5 months

Text

Distraction

Portgas D. Ace x Fem!Reader

You and Ace intended to spend the day at the beach, but he can’t seem to be able to relax.

Warnings: modern au, so much smut. like so much smut. wet, sticky smut. 69-ing briefly. reader is also written to be on the chubbier side (im projecting <3) ace fucks you in the back of his car, basically. MINORS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

I woke up thinking about Ace today so I cranked this out in, like, an hour. It was a nice change of pace while I've been finishing up IMLY and the Luffy fic from my poll, which is almost done! (speaking of which, thank you for 200 followers <3)

Ace hadn’t seen your swimsuit yet. All he knew about it was that you purchased it recently on a shopping trip with a group of your friends, but it was currently concealed under a light t-shirt and denim shorts. Throughout the drive to the shoreline, he was anxiously eyeing your bare thighs, his grip on the steering wheel of his station wagon turning his knuckles white.

“What’s got you so nervous over there?” Your airly voice shook the freckled man out of his daze. “Eyes on the road, hotshot.”

“It’s nothing,” he blurted, pouting and turning his attention back to the road. Maybe he should have you sit in the backseat when your skin was exposed.

His own friends often joked that he was no better than a dog. It wasn’t his fault that his sex drive was higher than cruising altitude… or maybe it was. But he couldn’t help his wandering eyes when the soft skin of your plush thighs was exposed, or the way your deft hands fiddled with your cuticles as you stared out the window, sparkling eyes taking in the cloudless summer day as the backroads passed by on the drive to the beach. Most of your evenings together were spent with either his head between your legs, your head between his legs, or your face smushed into a soft pillow while Ace desperately railed you from behind.

It was a good life, that’s for sure.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been to the beach,” you suddenly stated, turning your head to look at your flustered boyfriend. “I’ve only ever been swimming in pools recently!”

“Yeah, me too,” he replied, his voice shaky.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Ace, are you really alright? Your face is kind of red.” You reached your hand over to press your palm to his forehead. “You don’t feel like you have a fever, do you?”

“Nah, I feel fine. Honestly. Just… thinking.” One of his hands left the steering wheel to rub his sweating palm against the fabric of his swim trunks. All he had on, other than the baggy trunks, was a white tank top that had a very unfortunate oil stain around the chest area. He was sure his entire upper body was flushing red with the debauched thoughts that plagued his weary brain. He hadn’t even seen your bathing suit yet and his mind was running in circles. (He started to debate calling up that therapist that Sabo recommended.)

“Well, tell me if you really don’t feel good. I don’t want you to force yourself to be out today just because of me,” you cooed, your voice soft and comforting.

He needed to tell you to stop talking. Even the sound of your voice made butterflies swarm in his gut.

He might as well have been ovulating.

After what felt like an eternity, the trees surrounding the backroad route he had taken began to dissipate, replaced with the beautiful sight of the shoreline. The ocean spanned outward as far as you could see, disappearing along the horizon and blending in with the bright blue sky. A few small beach houses dotted the shore.

“You said this was a public beach, right?” you asked curiously.

Ace nodded, swallowing a thick glob of spit. “Public, but very minimal. There’s some private properties surrounding it so a lot of people assume the entire place is off-limits to locals, but there’s a small parking lot set back from the beach near a tiny bathroom shack-lookin’ thing.”

You grinned. “Nice.”

“Do you not like public beaches?” he inquired, tossing you a side eye as he pulled further down the road, approaching the aforementioned parking lot.

“I don’t mind them,” you replied. “But sometimes really busy beaches make me nervous. Sometimes I don’t feel comfortable swimming when there’s too many people around… I get self-conscious in my bathing suits!” Your statement was punctuated with a fluttering, nervous laugh as you involuntarily squeezed the skin of your thighs.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that when I’m here,” Ace replied, flashing you a cheeky grin.

The parking lot seemed sparse. It was entirely gravel with a few decrepit wooden fences separating where cars could park, some overgrown weeds poking through the impacted dirt here and there. Sure enough, there was a brown, run-down bathroom shack between the beach and the parking lot. During high tide, it almost seemed like the entire area would get flooded, but the gravel was drier than bone thanks to the beating sunlight.

You dug through your bag, removing a tube of sunblock.

“I thought you already put on sunscreen before we left,” Ace said, pulling into a spot and putting his beat-up station wagon in park.

“I did, I’m just putting some extra on my face,” you responded, uncapping the tube and squeezing some of the white gel onto your fingers. You deftly rubbed the lotion onto your skin, across your cheeks and brow, down your nose, and down your neck.

Ace needed to look away from you as your hands trailed down your neck and across your collarbones, ridding your hands of the excess lotion. You weren’t provoking him on purpose, he knew that, but clearly his dick was taking charge of the day.

Little prick.

The two of you excitedly exited the car, grabbing your small umbrella and towels to find a nice spot to set up camp on the sand. You were quick to lay down your towel when you found a spot, Ace digging a deep hole into the ground to mount the umbrella and provide a shelter from the beating sunlight. Only a few other people were dotted around the beach, mostly older folk who were most certainly retired and enjoying their elderly days basking in the sunlight. The thought made you smile. You watched with glittering eyes as Ace pulled his tank top over his lean body, his muscular chest rippling with his movements, letting the cloth fall into his bag in a wrinkled heap.

“Oh, shit, forgot the cooler,” Ace mumbled suddenly. “I’ll be right back.” He swiftly turned tail and hiked through the sand back to his car.

You smiled, crawling under the umbrella and feeling the sand beneath the fabric shift below your knees. You slid your denim shorts down your legs, shifting your weight to pull them off before folding them neatly and tucking them into your beach bag. Your shirt followed, your hands hooking under the bottom hem and pulling it up over your head, repeating the process of folding it and storing it away. Weirdly enough, you felt more comfortable on this beach than any other. While some old folk liked to gab, the sparse population on this beach seemed more than willing to keep to themselves. And there was no risk of creepy men your age or obnoxious teenagers to toss rogue comments about your body or shitty pick-up lines.

And you had Ace, of course, who would kiss the ground you walked on if you asked. The thought made your stomach flutter with glee.

Back in the parking lot, Ace was quick to haul open his trunk and grab the small cooler they had packed with water, some sodas, and some light snacks, slinging it over his bare shoulder and slamming the door closed. The hinges made a terrible squealing noise as the door moved. He really needed to get that fixed. He quickly jogged back to the shoreline with the cooler bag in his possession, his sandals making scuff marks in the gravel.

He almost died and came back to life when he saw you from behind.

Your clothes were off, your body hugged in a bikini that looked sculpted for you and only you. The strawberry-print bodice was tied around your neck and below your shoulder blades with thin straps, the front of the suit being held together in the front with a metal ring between the bust. Your plump breasts peeked over the seams slightly, making blood rush to Ace’s face. The solid-colored bottoms squeezed your hips and ass perfectly, with one side open and held together with strings in an intricate criss-cross pattern.

Ace’s feet were moving on their own, his soul ascending from his body as he floated toward you.

You heard the rustle of his swim trunks from behind you as you approached, turning to look at him over your shoulder. “Hey! All set with the cooler?”

He plopped to his knees on his own towel, the cooler hitting the ground with a thud. “Yeah, all set…” His voice trailed off as if he wanted to say something else.

You gazed at him with confusion painting your features.

“You… you look…” Ace could barely look at you. “You look so fucking hot… oh my god.”

Suddenly, his demeanor in the car made much more sense. The constant red flush painting his adorable freckled cheeks, his mouth in a perpetual tongue-tie, his lips pursing together tightly as he struggled to keep his composure. Your lips pulled into a bright smile, relishing in the flustered behavior of your boyfriend.

“Aww, thank you, baby!” you cooed, moving closer to him. Your hands trailed down his arm, ghosting over the tattoo on his bicep before teasingly falling to the cooler and unzipping the top, pulling an orange soda out of the bag.

“Please don’t tease me, I think I might explode,” Ace huffed.

You popped open the can with a satisfying click, taking a quick sip from the opening. “You know… I don’t think anyone’s going to mess with our stuff if you want to go back to the car…”

Ace’s dark eyes darted toward you, assessing the mischievous expression on your face as you kept the cold soda can pressed against your mouth. The metal was rapidly developing condensation thanks to the heat in the air, droplets of water dripping down the orange can and onto your fingers, plopping against your folded knees.

He carefully removed the soda from your hands, tucking it back into the cooler to make sure it didn’t spill, before standing up and hauling you to your feet, dragging you by your hand across the hot sand and back to the parking lot for a third time. He ripped his car keys from the pocket of his swim trunks, shoving the metal key into the door lock to open the vehicle before leading you to the trunk and popping open the door. You quickly clamored inside, him following behind you and closing the trunk from the inside. He chucked his keys somewhere towards the front of the car.

He wasted absolutely no time in smashing his lips against yours, making you wince slightly at the feeling of his teeth hitting your own, but the way his long fingers expertly groped the skin of your breasts below your bikini top made you forget about the momentary discomfort.

After a few stifling moments, Ace pulled away and heaved into the skin of your neck, holding you down by your shoulders.

The best part about him owning an old, refurbished station wagon was the ample amount of room in the back, as well as the lack of center console between the two front seats. It was a car built for fucking.

“Is this what you were thinking of on the ride over here?” you asked, a coy tone on your tongue. “About what my new swimsuit would look like?”

Ace grumbled, a childish pout on his lips as one of his hot hands continued to rub patterns up and down your side. Up to your breasts, his thumb ghosting over your concealed nipple, trailing down your waist and groping the plush flesh of your belly, down your thigh to squeeze your ass. The way the strings on the exposed side of your bottom piece fit into your skin made his cock throb.

“You’re insatiable,” you giggled, your own hands leaving scorching patterns over his shoulders and arms. “Are you ovulating? You’re acting like me before my period.”

“Shush,” he grumbled, followed by another sweltering kiss, all tongue. You felt a dribble of spit leave the corner of your mouth, sticking to the skin of your cheek. His lips moved against yours, exchanging a blistering heat. Ace always seemed to radiate warmth even on the coldest days, and his presence in this moment filled your body with a heated, lustful buzz. Goosebumps rose on your skin when he pulled away from you leaving your front exposed, gently biting your puffy lower lip with his teeth.

“How worried are you about someone messing with our things on the beach?” he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

You adjusted yourself slightly below him, his knees beside your hips caging you onto the floor of his trunk. “Hmm… not too worried.”

“Perfect,” Ace replied swiftly, tugging his swim trunks down.

He had such a nice cock, perfectly shaped with a cut tip that flushed a beautiful rosy hue. A slight upward curve, lean and not too long, perfect. He was either hard for the entire time you were setting up your small spot on the sand and you hadn’t noticed, or he was fighting with every fiber in his body to keep the erection at bay. Whatever the circumstance, the fantasy of spontaneously fucking you in the trunk of his car in that sexy bikini of yours that he daydreamed about on the drive down was finally coming true.

Your hands made a move down to your hips to pull on the fabric of your bottoms before his fingers wrapped around your wrists, halting your movement.

“Sorry,” he uttered, his voice a soft whisper filled with a desperation you rarely saw from him. “Your suit stays on.”

Your mouth morphed into a grin as he released you, leaning back up on his knees and idly stroking his cock with his right hand. You parted your legs for him, making a show of smushing your breasts together under your tight top. God, your suit could have been molded onto your body, it looked so good.

“Are you going to stay there and jerk off over me, or are you going to share some of the fun?” you asked deviously, one of your hands crawling below your bottoms and teasing your clit with the slick that had built up. A pleasant, tingling flutter resonated in your belly and floated down your thighs, but nothing was better than the feeling of his fingers and cock doing the work for you.

“I want to do everything to you,” he muttered, releasing his dick from his slow ministrations. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

You watched as it bobbed in the air, so hard it held itself out away from Ace’s toned stomach. You involuntarily licked your lips at the sight. “You’re so pretty…” you muttered. You took it upon yourself to sit up, gently pushing against Ace’s shoulders to get him to sit on the trunk floor on his ass, leaning against him further to get the hint to lay down in the position you had just been in.

Neither of you had a strictly dominating or strictly submissive attitude. Rather, you mutually shared the moment, taking charge when you wanted and snatching the lead away whenever you pleased. This was one of those moments as you rotated your body on top of his, moving your ass closer to his face as one of your hands ghosted along his hip bone, your other arm supporting you and keeping you upright.

Ace got the hint almost immediately, his greedy hands groping and squeezing your ass as he pulled you downward to rest your clothed cunt against his mouth. The hotness of his breath and the feeling of his lips against your weeping pussy concealed by the polyester made your breath hitch as your lips traveled closer and closer to the tip of his dick, watching hungrily as it seemed to pulse in the air, desperate for attention.

Your boyfriend made the first move, pulling you down by your hips and resting your cunt over his mouth, his tongue forcing its way between your folds through the suit and quickly finding your clit. You gasped, your arm shaking somewhat as you quickly followed his lead, wasting no time in taking his cock into your hot, ready mouth.

And goodness, did he taste good. A familiar slightly salty musk partnered with the residual scent of his daily body spray, a vanilla and cedar flavor that always made your heart flutter in your chest. His cock might as well have been burning as you hollowed out your lips and took him further down your mouth, loving the way the organ pulsed against your tongue.

On the other end, Ace’s fingers had found their way into the fabric of your bathing suit, holding the barrier aside as two of his digits spread your natural slick over your cunt and lubricated his skin before he pressed them into your pussy, addicted to the way your muscles constricted around him. Your entrance was always on the tighter side no matter how many times you fucked, and it was absolute heaven for him. He turned the pads of his two fingers forward, pushing gently against the roof of your vagina where he knew you were acutely sensitive, and smirked to himself when your thighs clenched around his head. Your movements over his cock momentarily stuttered at the feeling of his thumb connecting with your clit to simultaneously stroke the needy bud while passionately fingering your pussy.

He knew you too well. He knew what you needed. Ace wasn’t a selfish lover, he had learned your quirks and needs very early on in your relationship. You loved your clit rubbed in somewhat slow circles, alternating between various pressures. You responded to his fingers against your g-spot, and you loved when his dick curled upward into the same area. Not too deep so as to hit your cervix, which hurt you quite a bit, but deep enough to reach those sensitive areas that had your legs shaking.

You learned quickly too, however. Ace’s tip was the most sensitive part of him, his breaths growing shallow when you delicately sucked your lips around it and trailed your tongue along the slit, collecting the small amount of salty precum that emerged from the tip. He loved it when you gently fondled his balls, rubbing the wrinkled skin between the pads of your fingers. He adored the inside of his thighs being caressed, and you tried your best to do both with one hand as the other trembling appendage fought to support your weight as you continued to blow him.

You popped off of his cock momentarily, stroking the base with your hand. “Did you have fruit recently?” you asked, turning your head somewhat to look over your shoulder. Not like you could see much.

Ace paused his motions against your pussy. “... Maybe.”

You grinned, the usually salty, bitter taste of his essence now replaced with something slightly sweeter. You wanted to egg him on, to ask him if he had planned for this to happen and eaten some pineapple or citrus with his breakfast in preparation, but you decided to keep your inquiries to yourself and return to your task of sucking him off.

Ace was content to keep fingering you, his current position in between your thighs a bit too difficult to involve his tongue, but he knew he could please you regardless. The circular movements of his calloused thumb against your throbbing clit had you sucking in sharp, lustful breaths through your nose, small whimpers leaving your throat and vibrating down his shaft making him bite his lip and stifle a wheeze. Your thighs were quivering as he continued to curl his fingers into your g-spot, following the rhythm of your lips around his cock.

After some moments, however, you quickly scrambled off of him, your hand clutching around your stomach as you pivoted above him, capturing his lips in yours. You ground your clothed cunt over his pulsing cock, keeping it locked between your pussy and his toned abdomen.

“Now who’s the desperate one?” he asked, teasingly, his signature boyish smirk traveling right back to your clit.

“I can’t help it, you’re contagious,” you huffed against the skin of his cheek.

Usually, the two of you used lube. It didn’t matter how wet you got thanks to foreplay, the sensations were always heightened when there was no risk of chafing. But clearly, you didn’t have that luxury today. Nor did you have any condoms. Instead, you bit down your thoughts, reserved yourself to spending 70 beri on the morning-after pill later that day, and hovered over his cock. You pulled your swimsuit to the side and took his dick in your hands, wasting no time in slipping it through your folds that were thoroughly drenched thanks to Ace’s expert fingers.

The first insertion always hurt somewhat. A slight, red-hot throbbing pain that radiated through your pelvis, followed by a pleasant pressure as his cock slowly intruded into your tight muscle. The groan that radiated from Ace’s throat made your pussy flutter.

That was another thing you loved about him. He was loud.

Maybe on a normal day you’d be worried about someone hearing you, or seeing the way his car shook with the force of your collective moments, but both of you had succumbed to desperation and couldn’t care less. Traumatize the elderly beach goers who might happen to walk through the gravel parking lot to their own cars.

You sunk fully down onto Ace’s hips, his dick perfectly nestled inside your wet and willing pussy as his hands tightly gripped your hips through your suit bottoms. You slowly rocked your hips, desperate for some extra friction against your clit. It was much harder with the fabric covering you, but eventually you found a movement that felt just right. Edging your hips slightly forward, you rolled your pelvis against his, dragging your clothed slit over the taught skin of his lower abdomen, moaning at the feeling of his dick pulsing within you.

Maybe you really didn’t have to worry about lube today. Every motion against the walls of your vagina had you biting your lip and arching your back over him.

Ace’s hands assisted with bouncing you on his cock, his voice slowly increasing in volume as he watched you through half-lidded as your breasts jiggled with each movement, how the fat of your belly and thighs rippled so deliciously as you gyrated above him. His voice was delectable, gruff and whiny, higher-pitched than usual with stuttering breaths and hitches in his throat that had your heart beating a mile a minute.

Your legs were growing tired, and Ace could tell. He wordlessly beckoned you off of him, being quick to lean you over the back seats and move your suit to the side again, slipping his cock back in between your folds. This angle always fit the both of you. As much as Ace loved it when you rode him, taking you from behind came with many more benefits. His free hand could travel down to dip beneath the cloth of your swimsuit and rub those delicious circles against your clit while simultaneously thrusting his desperate hips against your ass. His chest pressed into your shoulder blades, his free hand supporting him against the back of the seats as you held onto the leather for dear life, whining with each motion of his cock against your inner walls and his calloused fingers against your clit.

It didn’t take long for you to unravel, the feeling of his rough finger pads against your desperate nub too much to bear. Your orgasm approached slowly at first, filling your stomach with warmth, the insides of your eyelids flashing purple and indigo, before your body snapped and you were shuddering against Ace, moaning out loud as your pussy involuntarily clenched around his cock, your cunt feeling feather light as it fluttered. The force of your orgasm caused you to gyrate your hips back against his, weak, airy moans escaping your tongue as the red-hot pleasure radiated through your entire body leaving your pussy buzzing with the aftershocks.

Ace was barely holding it together. The force of your orgasm causing your pussy to clench around his cock had his arms weakening against the seat, his hips frantically rutting into you as sultry moans left his lips at the feeling of his cock burning inside you, begging for satisfaction. His fingers never stopped rubbing your clit, caught up in what had essentially become second nature for him. The overstimulation had you twitching around him, shallow breaths heaving from your lungs. Ace’s pace increased as did the stuttering of his hips, his thrusts growing more shallow as his own orgasm approached.

“A-Ace… fuck, baby…” you whined, dropping your forehead against the back of the seat. “You’re gonna make me cum again…”

The man was too caught up in the throes of pleasure. Calling him desperate earlier was clearly an understatement. A loud, throaty groan reverberated from his lips as his hips rapidly drilled into you, forcing you against the back of the seat. His shallow breaths only helped to fuel your second orgasm that rocked you with a sudden wash of white light behind your eyes and you were shuddering against him again, your own moans filling the stifling air of the car.

Ace barely had time to call out your name before he was thrusting disjointedly into you, crackled, weary moans leaving his lips as he came into your sore cunt, his hands pressing down onto your lower back to keep you still as he buried his cock into you, soaking you more than you already were. You felt him pull out of you, your cunt fluttering around nothing as the sound of him falling backwards against the closed door of his trunk filled your ears.

Your own spent body dropped to the side, sitting on your hip and barely holding yourself up with one hand. You slowly picked your head up, gazing at your boyfriend and assessing his condition.

Black hair mussed beyond belief, his freckled cheeks and shoulders flushed with a delicate red hue, his lips wet and swollen parted with the force of his labored breathing. His eyes were closed, jaw slack as his pelvis continued to twitch from the force of his orgasm. A few last drops of cum were bubbling from his tip, slowly dripping down his drenched dick that almost glistened, covered in your own fluids. You felt wet between your legs. It would have been a nice feeling if you weren’t already so stifling, your entire body feeling sticky. You finally noticed the way the windows had fogged up. You didn’t have time to think about carbon dioxide toxicity before Ace’s weary hand traveled up to the back window of his trunk door, blindly popping the window open a crack to let some fresh air flow into the car. The summer heat felt oddly cool against your sweaty skin.

You slowly crawled closer to Ace, ignoring the way your drenched cunt sat uncomfortably inside your bathing suit. You combed a damp strand of black hair off of his forehead before delicately pressing your lips against his cheek, encouraging him to finally open his eyes.

“You alright?” you asked, your voice low and quiet.

He finally smiled, his narrow, dark eyes filling your chest with warmth. “I think my heart almost stopped.”

You giggled, running your sweaty hand up and down his skin. “Should I wear bathing suits around you more often? I don’t think you’ve ever fucked me like that.”

Your boyfriend’s humble laughter made you grin. “For the sake of my health, you probably shouldn’t.” He finally leaned forward to press a tender kiss against your wet lips. “Though, if I were to die fucking you in a bikini, I’d die a very, very happy man.”

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace smut #ace x reader smut #portgas d ace x reader smut #smut #op smut #one piece smut #ace oneshot

732 notes · View notes

a-b-riddle · 1 month

Text

Know Your Place (2)

The knot of guilt had twisted into straight up anxiety. You didn't do repeats, but fuck if you didn't want to feel Johnny's mouth against you again. He treated you like you wanted to be treated: cared for and absolutely defiled.

It was electrifying.

And it terrified you.

You rarely canceled hookups when they had gotten to the point where the one night delight had sent you confirmation of their STD panel. Yet here you were sprinting to the hotel where you had met Johnny a month ago.

And when you walked back into that lobby, it was dejavú.

He was sitting at the bar; eyes glued to the door. He’d been waiting. Just like last time. Maybe that's what had set the night off to such a different start. He wasn't scrolling on his phone or making idle chit chat with the bartender to pass the time. He had made it known in subtle ways that as much as this may have been a means to blow off steam, it was about being with you.

With as much confidence as you could muster, you sauntered over to him, heart fluttering wildly in your chest. His tight navy blue Henley was doing him and you a favor. His denim jeans would undoubtedly hug his ass in such a way it was make you and sculptors envious.

The bastard was handsome and he damn well knew it.

"What changed yer mind?"

Fuckkkkkkkk

Fuck. You remembered he had an accent, but fuck you forgot how it practically made you pray that he was the type of man who liked to dirty talk, give directions.

Prayers: answered.

You shrugged. Trying to come off as nonchalant when in reality you couldn't get out of that lounge soon enough. "I wanted to do it again." Jesus. Be a little less brash. "With you." You quickly add. Fuck, why was this so awkward. "I wanted to do this again with you."

Those blue eyes scaled up and down your body, taking you in. It didn't matter that you knew he wanted you. It didn't matter that he had seen you naked. It didn't matter that he had told you multiple times how fucking stunning he found you. There was always that nagging feeling in the back of your head going

Is he looking at my stomach? God, I shouldn't have worn this. i should have worn spanx. I look like a busted can of biscuits.

The ugly thoughts almost made you shift in discomfort under his gaze, but you held firm, reciting your mantra in your head.

You are desirable. You are worth pleasure. You are in control.

“Ye want it like last time or are ye goin’ to let me fuck you properly?” And just like that, your confidence was taken down a peg. You had took penetrative sex off the table for about two years. It wasn't anything traumatizing, it wasn't painful. It just wasn't as good.

You've found that there was an assumption that bigger girls were able to take it more roughly. And after a few times of men treating their dicks like battering rams, intercourse was a course that was no longer on the menu. Plus with the only option being oral, you mostly always came and your partners were far more enthusiastic. Win-win.

“I can’t cum that way.” You crossed your arms, your tits perking up in hopes of making him remember how good it felt to titty fuck you. How hot you looked with his cum all over your face and chest. When his eyes didn't leave yours, you decided to relent. He gave you the best not one, not two, but three orgasms of your life and if you had stayed like he had asked, he probably would have given you several more. At this point you were curious. If his mouth can do all those deliciously despicable things, you wanted to know what his cock could do.

“Don’t get upset if I don’t.” You ordered, not caring if the bartender heard you. “I haven’t faked it since college and so my pornstar moaning may not be up to par." Johnny smirked before shooting the rest of the amber colored liquor in front of him.

He stood up, practically towering over you before leaning in and whispering, “Oh, I’ll have ye moanin’ just fine, Bonnie.”

Yep.

Definitely curious.

There was no foreplay this. No slow undressing. Not delicately exploring each other's bodies. It was feral and carnal and something neither of you had anticipated. Not even desire, but pure need to be touching each other again.

Johnny's shirt was the first thing that was taken off, and before the door had even fully closed. His mouth was on yours instantly. Tasting you as if it let him breathe easier. His hands worked at the zipper of your dress with expertise. Not allowing it to fall from the floor before he started working on your bra. His mouth never leaving yours.

You normally would reprimand a date for their eagerness, but you needed this just as much as he did. Needed his hands on you, in you. And more importantly you knew that Johnny can deliver you to paradise on a silver fucking platter.

By the time both of you were fully undressed, the sound of soft pants filled the room as if both of you had forgotten to pull away from the other's lips and come up for air. When you did, your brain went on autopilot.

You sank down to you knees in front of him. One hand resting on your thigh while the other took hold of him. He sucked in air through his clenched teeth as one of his hands made its way home into the crown of your hair.

Seeing him stare down at you with glossy eyes and an open mouth made you promptly spit on the head of his cock. Stroking your hand up and down to coat his entire shaft.

"Fuckin' Christ," he groaned. "I dinnae stand a chance with you, did I?" You weren't what he meant. Did he think he was the reason you initially didn't want to meet up again? Or was it something else? No. It couldn't be.

In response you gave his shaft a tight pump. And another. And another. Rolling your wrist against his already leaking head. Not breaking eye contact you dragged your tongue up the underside of his cock before taking the tip in your mouth. Flattening your tongue and teasing the slit, feeling the ridges underneath before taking him deep into your throat.

Tears prickled your eyelids as you felt him pulsing in your mouth. "That goddamn mouth." His eyes shut in concentration. "Need ye to stop before I fuckin' cum, Bonnie." It was a warning that you didn't plan on listening to. At least not until his grip in your hair tightened, still soft enough not to be painful, but firm enough to make your soaked cunt clench.

"Naughty fuckin' minx." he growled hoarsely. "Think I'd just come down your throat and we'd be done?" You nod, his hand loosening with your movement. "You'll have to be punished for that. Trying to make me cum two minutes in like a goddamn school boy." His blue eyes burned into you. You had almost wished he came if not to give him the same euphoric feeling he was giving you, right now and without even touching where you ached the most.

"Open your thighs and let me look at that pretty pussy. " His voice was gravely and stern. You leaned back, pressing your palms against the cool hardwood floor as you parted your thighs. He wasted no time in crouching down and sliding his fingers through your slick folds.

"Fuck." You whimpered as he softly grazed your clit with each stroke. Never missing.

"This all mine?" He asked. You let out a weakened yeah before your body bucked. "So sensitive." His mocking tone pulled out that masochistic part of you that loved to be degraded. "On the bed, on your knees."

You got off your knees, feeling the blood return to your feet from being in such an awkward position on the floor. You obeyed his orders, letting him take control even though that was not what either of you had in mind.

"So what are you gonna do?" You attempt to add a sense of mocking to your tone, but you're breathless. Definitely getting in some cardio tonight. "I'm not much into corporal beatings. I'm a fan of the occasional swat, but not really a get over my knee and count type of girl."

"No, but I plan to make you beg to cum," he said, the hair on his hair tickling your back. "And make you see how good you can take my cock."

He gripped your cheeks, kneading and spreading them before settling his eyes on what he had been after. "So I take it you're an ass man." You say it with such casualty he had no choice but to bark out a laugh.

"No, Bonnie," he answered, giving the flesh a firm squeeze. "I'm a this-ass man." He leaned forward, stroking his tongue over the puckered ring. Having to hold you by the fat of your ass, giving it a squeeze to keep you in place.

"Oh my god." Your hands gripped the bed sheets, mouth hanging open and eyes clinched shut. Fuck. Oral was on the table, but neither of you had talked about rimming. Most guys you knew never mentioned it and honestly with how some men kept up with their personal hygiene, you weren't exactly up for returning the favor. But if Johnny made you feel like this, you would gladly reciprocate.

He brought his hand down, stroking the back of your thigh, his tongue never stopping as he slid two fingers inside you. You instinctively slid your knees further apart, granting him easier access.

Good pet. If Johnny's tongue hadn't been working your asshole he would have delivered the words of praise just to gauge your reaction at the name. Pet.

"I'm so close." You moaned. "Please don't stop." Your pleading was cute, but it wasn't enough.

"No," he said, slowing down his fingers. "I'm not gonna give it to ye' til yer beggin. Ye' wanted to make the rules. No penetration. No repeats. Ye' said ye' don't cum from fucking and I'm about to break that rule too."

You weren't sure if it was agony or the best thing you ever felt, but he resumed his work. Only slowing down when you began to rock against his face and tighten around his fingers before he would slow down or pull away.

After the 8th time your orgasm escaped you, you kicked your feet against the bed in the cutest fucking tantrum the man had ever witnessed. "Johnny, please!" you begged.

"Please, what?" He teased, his breathe now blowing against your weeping, sore cunt. "What do you need, Bonnie?"

"Please make me come. Please fuck me. Pleaaaaassseee. Just let me come." You practically squealed out when his fingers entered you again. Pressing your face into the pillow you able to muffle your pitiful, pathetic cry.

"Fuck ye?" He taunted, curling his fingers as he kneeled behind you. The tip of his cock brushing against the inside of your thigh. Fuck. It was too heavy to even go upright. "Thought that sort of thing didn't work for ye."

"Johnny, please." you said, shaking your ass like a bitch in heat. Looking for more friction. "I can't-- fuck-- you have to--- please." You couldn't think you just needed this knot inside of you to unwind before it ripped you apart.

"Ye beg so pretty for me." He said, stroking his cock as you started to lose your mind. "Makes me almost feel sorry for ye, but you need more control than that." He tsked as he took his hand out and brushed the back of his fingers against your puffy cunt. Stifling a laugh as you jerked away. "Is it too much?" He asked, lining his cock up and stroking your folds.

"Please." You whimpered and that was it. Johnny knew that you weren't leaving him a second time. Not when he looked in the mirror to the right and could see how your mascara began to run down your face. You're the perfect girl for them. The perfect pet.

"Tell me, Bon. Need me to finish ye' off?" He asked pushing the tip in and only pulling away when you attempt to throw your ass against him. Huffing when he did.

"Yes!" You cried. "Please please please."

His hand snaked around your throat, cupping your jaw before he turned your head to look into the mirror. Your bodies glistened with sweat and the sight was something you would keep stored in your memory forever.

"I want ye you to see how fuckin' gorgeous you look while yer takin' my cock." He growled out, his tone darker than you had ever heard him before.

"Yes, sir." You breathed out. Another remind on how you'd adjust easily with them.

He slowly slid into you and for that you were thankful. The burn of the stretch equaled the pleasure that coursed through you as he filled you.

His slow deep thrusts made your head swirl. Over and over, the sounds of your sopping wet cunt and soft moans and groans escaping the two of you. You braced yourself as he started picking up the pace, but it still wasn't enough. You still teetered on that edge, so close to tipping over.

For several minutes he fucked you knowing that you were so close to coming, but being too much of a sick bastard to give in without you showing him how desperate you were for it.

"Rough," you eventually sobbed, your back arching as your head fell against the bed. "Want you- rough, please." You choked back a scream as he drove his hips foward.

"Keep those fucking eyes open and don't you dare cum until I tell ye' to," was his only demand as he held onto your waist and fucked you how he wanted to that first night.

Sounds of slapping flesh and soft whimpers filled the room as Johnny brought you to seeing the face of god.

"Johnny Johnny," you squealed your orgasm gaining on you. It wasn't until you felt his thumb applying just the right amount of pressure on your asshole did you begin to fall apart. "fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck."

Some books say that orgasms are like seeing stars or electricity coursing through your body. In reality it is waves. Waves of euphoria crashing down. It's that high you get from holding your breath too long and taking that much awaited breath.

Johnny's orgasm quickly followed and when you felt his cock pulsing inside you, it brought on another orgasm. Johnny hissed as you tighten against his now sensitive cock, but admiring the sight when he pulled out.

His spend leaked out of you.

"Guess we got kind of caught up. Dinnae even think about getting a rubber." It wasn't an apology, but he at least wanted to seem like he was sorry for coming inside you.

"UDI." You replied, eyes closed and head still reeling from the aftershock of that second orgasm.

"What?" He asked, making you realize you were incoherent and most likely stroking his ego even more.

"IUD, fuck, sorry." You correct. He let out a chuckle before you rolled over, arm covering your eyes as you try to gain some You felt his cum begin to slide down to your thighs. "I'm gonna go clean up." You inform before rolling awkwardly off the bed, if not to save the poor maids from having to see the evidence on the sheets.

When you came back into the room, Johnny was on the bed. Still naked as a jaybird with his softened cock resting against his thigh.

This was always the awkward part. The departure. The gathering of clothes and minimal eye contact.

"Well, I should be-" you started bending over to retrieve your bra before he stopped you.

"If ye fuckin' leave like ye did last time that ass of yours will be meetin' my belt, now lay down."

"Excuse me?" your tone is more confused if anything. He said it without a hint of anger, authority or sterness and yet you had to refrain from scurrying into the bed.

"I get ye' may not be a cuddlin' type of gal, but I am a cuddlin' type a man. Leaving me without the proper aftercare isn't a good look on ye, Bonnie." He threw you a lopsided grin. His hands resting on the back of his hands, making you want to see if riding those biceps of his would get you off as easily as it would riding his face.

"Besides," he shrugged. "Ye' came before I let you."

"I tried to hold it off." You argued before dropping your bra back unto the floor and crawling next to him. "I just never had to."

"That's the whole point." He said, rolling over to face you. "Seeing ye come undone whether ye want to or na." He scooted closer. The front of his body touching yours as his hand came up to cradle your jaw. Lightly brushing his thumb against your bottom lip as he spoke. "And ye'd been so adamant about not being able to cum on my cock. Such a good girl for me."

"So you're not going to punish me?" You tried to mock, but were actually curious about what kind of man Johnny really was in bed. He had no problem taking control, but what other kinks did he have lurking below the surface.

"I can punish ye," he winked. "but I think ye might like it too much." You huffed air out of your nose, wanting to bury your head into his chest, worried that the action may be too intimate for what this was.

What you were.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kidnapping #dark ghoap #ghoap x reader #stockholm syndrome #curvy reader

240 notes · View notes

sirenedeslily · 1 month

Text

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ‎𐦍 𝐜hristopher 𝐬turniolo

❛you have so much to do, and i have nothing ahead of me.❜

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡, in the bustling streets of new york city, a struggling artist burdened by her mother's chaos meets chris, a vibrant spirit who reignites her dormant passion for art. as their connection deepens through museum visits and intimate conversations, y/n is torn between the weight of her sacrifices and the allure of newfound love. when their paths inevitably part, chris must confront the heartache of losing the muse who transformed his art, while y/n faces the painful reality of her shattered dreams, forever haunted by the ephemeral beauty of their once-shared moments.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, angst, mentions of emotional and physical neglect, fluffy moments, mental health struggles, open ending (sorry)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭, 13.9k !

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬, this is based on the song “your best american girl” by mitski aswell as “fake plastic trees” by radiohead. this one took everything out of me to write so i apologize if the writing isn’t its best or if it gets repetitive in anyway, i really tried chat. idk if y’all could tell but i got inspired by little women (2019) and eternal sunshine of the spotless mind for some scenes. ANYWAYS this is dedicated to gf @sweetangelgirl7 !! love u so very much sweets

standing behind the counter of the bustling café, you were enveloped by the rich aroma of coffee beans mingling with the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of cups. the everyday symphony wrapped around you like a familiar song. as the door swung open, a rush of summer air and the distant murmur of traffic stirred the atmosphere. you glanced up from the drawing you had been mindlessly sketching, your pencil pausing mid-air

a man entered, his presence commanding attention like a character stepping out of a film. dressed in a denim jacket and worn jeans, his curly hair framed his face with an effortless charm. his striking blue eyes, a shade reminiscent of clear summer skies, scanned the menu before locking onto yours. he approached the counter with an easy, unpretentious smile.

"hi there," he said, his voice a blend of warmth and curiosity. "what do you recommend for someone who needs a bit of inspiration?"

a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, a reflex of shared understanding. "i’d say a mocha with an extra shot of espresso. it’s got just the right amount of kick to get the creative juices flowing."

"perfect," he replied, nodding appreciatively. "i’ll have one of those. and maybe a blueberry scone, if you’ve got any left."

you quickly prepared his order, your hands moving with practiced ease, though a curious sense of anticipation fluttered in your chest. as you handed him the steaming cup and the scone, your fingers brushed briefly, sending a fleeting spark of something unfamiliar through you.

"here you go," you said, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest. "one mocha with an extra shot and a blueberry scone. that’ll be $6.50."

he handed you a ten-dollar bill, his gaze lingering on you just a moment longer than necessary. "keep the change," he said with a smile. "thanks for the recommendation...?"

"y/n," you supplied, feeling a warmth spread through you at his genuine interest.

"y/n," he repeated, savoring the sound of your name like a cherished word. "nice to meet you. i’m chris."

"nice to meet you too, chris," you replied, noticing as he glanced at the sketchbook you had left open. his eyes widened slightly, a look of recognition crossing his face. "you drew this just now?" he asked, surprise evident in his voice.

"uh, yeah," you said, a bit self-conscious. "it’s nothing really. i just like to doodle from time to time."

he continued to study the page, which depicted a scene from fallen angel, a film that had left an indelible mark on your imagination. his gaze softened with genuine admiration. "you’ve perfectly captured the essence of the scene. it’s one of my favorite movies."

a blush crept into your cheeks at his compliment. "thank you. i really love the cinematography of it all."

"i completely agree. i seriously believe that if a movie has shitty visuals, it undermines its entire meaning." his candidness made you smile, intrigued by the easy rapport that had sprung up between you.

as chris took a sip of his mocha, his eyes met yours again, a spark of connection kindling between you. the café, with its familiar sounds and smells, seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you, suspended in a moment that felt both ordinary and extraordinary. he lingered a moment longer, his gaze drifting back to your sketchbook. "do you draw often?" he asked, genuine curiosity colouring his tone.

"every chance i get," you admitted, feeling a strange mix of shyness and pride. "it helps me unwind."

chris nodded, his eyes thoughtful. "i get that. i paint when i need to clear my head. something about creating, you know?"

you did know. the act of creation, whether with words or images, was a sanctuary from the chaos of the world outside. "what do you paint?" you asked, leaning forward slightly, genuinely interested.

"mostly landscapes," he said, a hint of sheepishness in his voice. "i love capturing the way light changes throughout the day."

the two of you stood there, the café bustling around you, but in your corner of the world, time seemed to slow. you shared a smile that felt like an unspoken understanding, a shared secret between kindred spirits.

glancing at his watch, chris had a flicker of regret crossing his features. "i should get going, but i'd love to talk more about your art. maybe over coffee sometime?”

you felt a spark of excitement. "i’d like that," you said, the words simple but sincere.

chris handed you a small card with his contact information. "shoot me a text when you're free," he said, his smile warm and hopeful. "i'd love to see more of your work."

"i will," you promised, tucking the card safely into your pocket.

as chris turned to leave, he paused at the door, glancing back one last time. "thanks for the inspiration, y/n," he called out, his voice carrying a note of something almost magical.

you watched him go, the door swinging shut behind him, leaving you with a sense of possibility hanging in the air. the café resumed its regular rhythm, but everything felt just a bit brighter, a bit more hopeful.

returning to your sketch, you found your pencil moving with renewed energy, capturing the scene with a fresh perspective. the encounter with chris had ignited something within you, a spark that you knew would fuel your creativity for days to come.

𝜗𝒞

the shift ended, and you slipped out of your apron, folding it neatly as you prepared to leave. the evening light bathed the city streets in a warm, golden hue, a stark contrast to the cold, fluorescent lights of the café. you walked home, the sketchbook tucked under your arm, your thoughts drifting back to chris and his easy smile.

home was a small apartment on the edge of town, where the rent was cheap, and the walls were thin. you unlocked the door, stepping into the familiar clutter of dishes in the sink, laundry waiting to be folded, and your mother sprawled on the couch, a half-empty bottle of whiskey within arm's reach. she barely acknowledged your arrival, her eyes glazed over as she stared at the television.

"dinners in the fridge," you said softly, knowing she would not respond. she rarely did these days, lost in her own world of regret and resentment. you had grown up with a mother who was more like a ghost, always there but never present. her dreams had died long ago, and she had never forgiven you for being the living reminder of what she had lost.

you heated up a leftover meal, sitting at the small kitchen table with your sketchbook open in front of you. the pencil moved by itself, lines and shapes taking form as you lost yourself in the act of creation. drawing was your escape, your way of coping with the harsh realities of your life. silence was loud in your home; drawing helped you drown its achingly loud quietness. it was in these moments that you felt most alive, the weight of your responsibilities lifting, if only for a little while.

as the night wore on, you were consumed by thoughts of your future—or rather, the lack of it. once, you had dreamed of becoming an artist, envisioning your work gracing galleries and museums. but those dreams now felt impossibly distant, eclipsed by the relentless need to support yourself and your mother. your father had vanished by the time you were nine, leaving you and your mom to fend for yourselves. at least, until her accident. after that, it was you against the world, while she retreated into a haze of painkillers and alcohol.

you were so intelligent that you began tutoring your fellow classmates. at first, the tutoring income covered the bills, but when your mother started siphoning your money for her drugs, you had to take on another job as well. juggling multiple jobs to keep the bills paid, you eventually had to abandon your education as the financial pressures mounted. despite everything, you kept your mind sharp by devouring countless books.

stealing moments to draw whenever you could, you clung to your passion in the scant free time you had. it was a precarious balance, and more often than not, you felt as though you were barely holding on. yet, there was something about chris that had reignited a spark within you. his passion for art and his unwavering belief in following your dreams resonated deeply. for the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope—not necessarily for yourself, but for the world. his contagious smile and confidence in his future provided a comforting reminder that, for some people, there is light at the end of the tunnel. even if it was not your tunnel, knowing that it existed for someone else brought a sense of solace.

𝜗𝒞

the days that followed were a blur of work and stolen moments with your sketchbook. you found yourself looking forward to your shifts at the café, hoping to see chris again. it was a slow afternoon when he walked in, his presence like a breath of fresh air.

“hey, y/n,” he greeted, sliding onto a stool at the counter. “got time for a break?”

you glanced at the clock, then at your manager, who nodded with a small smile. “sure,” you replied, your heart skipping a beat. you made two mochas and joined him at a corner table.

“how’s the art going?” chris asked, sipping his drink.

you shrugged, feeling a mix of pride and self-consciousness. “i draw whenever i can. it’s hard to find the time.”

chris nodded thoughtfully. “i get that. life has a way of getting in the way, doesn’t it?” he pulled out a small notebook from his jacket. “mind if i show you something?”

curiosity piqued, you nodded. he flipped open the notebook to reveal sketches, each one more beautiful than the last. some depicted serene landscapes bathed in the golden glow of sunset, while others captured the stark, haunting beauty of a storm rolling in over a rugged coastline. the detail and emotion in each piece were astounding, the kind of art that made you feel something deep in your soul.

“these are incredible,” you said, genuinely impressed. “you really captured its light. even in the darkest ones, i can still see some sort of radiance.”

chris smiled, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes, a shadow of vulnerability. “thanks. painting has always been a way for me to process things, to make sense of the world. some of these are from when i was in a really dark place.”

you looked closer at the sketches, noticing the subtle differences in tone and style. one piece, a vivid sunrise over a peaceful meadow, seemed to radiate hope and renewal. in contrast, another sketch showed a desolate, wind-swept landscape under a brooding sky, the sense of isolation almost palpable.

“these two,” you said, pointing to the contrasting pieces. “they feel so different from each other. what was going on when you drew them?”

chris glanced at the sketches and sighed, a mixture of nostalgia and pain crossing his face. “the sunrise was when i first moved out here, trying to start fresh and find some direction. it was a hopeful time, full of possibility. but the other one,” he said, pointing to the darker piece, “was during a period when everything felt like it was falling apart. i had just lost a part of me, and i felt completely alone.”

you could hear the raw emotion in his voice, the weight of his past struggles. “i’m sorry,” you said softly. “it’s amazing how you can convey so much through your art. it’s like i can feel what you were going through.”

he nodded, a small, grateful smile on his lips. “that’s what i love about art. it’s a way to communicate things that words can’t always capture. it’s been a lifeline for me, in more ways than one.”

as you looked through more of his sketches, you saw a range of emotions and experiences, each one telling a different story. there were joyful moments, like a vibrant carnival scene filled with laughter and light, and somber ones, like a lonely figure standing in the rain, the sadness almost tangible. each piece was a window into chris’s soul, a testament to his resilience and creativity.

“what about you? got any new sketches?” he questioned, his blue eyes boring into yours as you looked up from his pieces.

you hesitated, then pulled out your sketchbook, flipping to a recent drawing. it revealed two evocative paintings, each depicting a moment of solitude. on the left, an overhead view showed a figure seated in a bathtub, their back exposed, water enveloping them in a quiet embrace. on the right, a close-up focused on the same individual, their face partially submerged, eyes closed in deep reflection. the delicate brushstrokes and soft colours conveyed intimacy and vulnerability.

chris studied it intently. “this is incredible, y/n. you have a true gift for capturing pure and raw emotion.”

you spent the rest of the break talking about art, techniques, and favourite artists. it was the first of many conversations that deepened your bond. chris became a regular at the café, and you found yourself looking forward to his visits. he encouraged you to keep drawing, to explore different styles, and to believe in your talent.

𝜗𝒞

for months, you had felt an undeniable connection to chris. his enthusiasm was infectious, spreading through you like wildfire and lingering long after he had left the coffee shop. after those first few weeks of him showing up without fail, ordering his mocha and whatever pastry was available, and watching you as you deftly managed the morning rush, he started inviting you on little adventures.

it wasn’t that you didn’t want to join him; it was that you couldn’t. between your shifts at the café and helping the seemingly endless stream of students cramming for finals, you barely had time to breathe, let alone take a night off. but chris had a way of chipping away at your resolve, a determined persistence that wouldn’t let you ignore your own needs. for every reason you had to say no, he always had two more reasons why you should say yes.

“i got us tickets to this exhibition in manhattan,” chris announced one afternoon, his excitement like a burst of sunlight in the room as you focused on the espresso machine.

you sighed, glancing up at him briefly as you handed a latte to a waiting customer. “chris, i can’t just hop over to manhattan and back to brooklyn in one night. not this week, anyway.”

his smile faltered, but only for a moment. “you can’t say no without at least asking me when it is, moonie,” he teased, leaning against the counter.

“moonie?” you raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-bemused.

chris’s grin widened, his eyes dancing with mischief. “yeah, moonie. like the moon. always there, casting light on everyone else but keeping just out of reach. you shine for everyone else, but you stay hidden in the shadows yourself.”

you tried to keep the smile off your face, but it slipped through anyway. “alright, sunny, i appreciate it, but i have responsibilities. my mom, my job—i can’t just drop everything on a whim.”

his expression softened as he leaned in closer, his voice dipping into a serious tone. “i know, but you deserve to live a little, too. you’re always taking care of everyone else. who’s taking care of you?”

his words hit you like a gentle nudge, stirring something deep inside. you’d always been the one to shoulder the burdens, to be the provider, the one who put others first. but here was chris, looking at you like you were something more than that—as if you could be more.

“just think about it,” he urged softly. “one night. it’s not the end of the world. it could be a beginning.”

you exhaled, feeling the weight of your responsibilities pressing down on you. yet, chris’s earnestness was hard to resist. “fine,” you said finally, a small smile playing at your lips. “what’s the date?”

chris’s face lit up like the dawn. “next friday. i’ll pick you up at six.”

“next friday,” you echoed, your emotions a tangled mix of anxiety and excitement.

chris’s smile turned thoughtful as he recalled something from earlier. “sunny, huh?” he chuckled, catching your eye.

you looked at him, puzzled for a moment, before the memory clicked. “oh, right. sunny,” you laughed softly. “yeah, like the sun—always casting light, even on the darkest days.”

he stared at you, his smile growing warmer, more intimate. “sunny and moonie,” he murmured, as if testing the words. “i like that.”

chris had a way of making the ordinary seem extraordinary, and soon enough, you found yourself counting down the days until that friday. the nickname exchange was just one example of how he made things feel special—how he saw the world in a light you had long forgotten to look for. where you saw endless shadows, he saw the stars peeking through.

𝜗𝒞

the days flew by, a blur of coffee cups and late-night study sessions. but every time you thought of friday, there was a flicker of something different inside you—something you hadn’t felt in a long time. maybe it was the idea of finally allowing yourself to step out of the shadows, if only for a night. maybe it was just chris, and the way he seemed to believe that you deserved the world.

when friday finally arrived, you were nervous. your usual routine was a safety net, one you had clung to for years. but there was also a thrill in breaking out of it, in letting someone like chris pull you into his world of light.

true to his word, chris was there at six, waiting outside your door with that signature grin of his. he looked almost too perfect, standing there with his tousled hair and a casual confidence that made you feel both excited and a little out of your depth.

“you look amazing,” he said when you stepped out, and even though you had spent more time getting ready than usual, his words still made your cheeks warm.

“thanks,” you replied, feeling a bit awkward under his gaze. “you don’t look too bad yourself.”

he laughed at that, a warm, easy sound that made you smile in spite of yourself. “ready for our adventure, moonie?”

you nodded, feeling that mix of nerves and excitement again. “ready.”

𝜗𝒞

the train ride into manhattan was filled with easy conversation, chris making you laugh with his stories and little observations about the world around you. he had a way of making you forget your worries, of making you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could allow yourself this one night.

when you arrived at the exhibition, it was like stepping into another world. the gallery was alive with colour and light, the walls covered in art that seemed to pulse with life. chris guided you through the crowd, his hand brushing against yours as he led you to the first piece.

“what do you see?” he asked, his voice low, as if the art demanded a kind of reverence.

you looked at the painting in front of you, taking in the swirling colors and bold strokes. it was beautiful, but there was something about it that felt... heavy. the colors, though vibrant, seemed to carry a weight, a sadness that lingered beneath the surface.

“it’s... complicated,” you said finally, searching for the right words. “it’s like there’s something hidden beneath all the color. something... sad.”

chris tilted his head, considering your words. “i can see that,” he said, surprising you. “but i also see hope in it. like the colors are fighting against the darkness, refusing to be overshadowed.”

you glanced at him, seeing the art through his eyes for a moment. it was strange, how two people could look at the same thing and see something entirely different. yet, there was a beauty in that too—in the way he found light where you saw shadows.

as you moved through the gallery, you found yourselves interpreting each piece in a similar way. where you saw struggle and sorrow, chris found hope and resilience. it was like you were seeing two sides of the same coin, both valid in their own way.

but as the night wore on, you started to realize something. maybe it wasn’t just the art that was different for each of you. maybe it was the way you saw the world—how your experiences had shaped you into someone who expected the worst, while chris seemed to believe in the best.

it was a thought that lingered in your mind as you left the gallery, the city lights reflecting off the wet pavement as you walked side by side. chris was talking about the exhibition, his voice animated, but you were only half-listening, lost in your own thoughts.

when you finally reached your apartment building, the reality of the night came crashing down. this was the moment where most dates would end with an invitation inside, but you couldn’t do that. you couldn’t let him see the world you lived in, the mess you kept hidden behind closed doors.

chris stopped in front of your door, his smile softening as he looked at you. “i had a great time tonight, moonie.”

“me too,” you admitted, even though your mind was already racing with excuses. “thank you for inviting me.”

he stepped closer, his hand finding yours in a way that felt both natural and electric. “can i see you again?”

you nodded, though the words felt like a promise you weren’t sure you could keep. “i’d like that.”

he hesitated for a moment, then leaned in to kiss you. it was soft, tentative—like he was giving you a chance to pull away. but you didn’t. you let yourself have this moment, let yourself feel something other than the weight of the world on your shoulders.

when he finally pulled back, he smiled at you, a little breathless. “goodnight, moonie.”

“goodnight, sunny,” you replied, your heart still racing as you watched him walk away.

you waited until he was out of sight before turning to unlock your door, the spell of the night slowly fading. inside, your mother’s voice drifted from the living room, a reminder of the life you couldn’t escape. the excitement of the evening was already being overshadowed by the reality waiting for you behind that door.

but as you closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help but smile, just a little. maybe you couldn’t let chris into your world—not yet—but for the first time in a long time, you felt like there might be a way out of the shadows. and that was something.

𝜗𝒞

from then on, chris would whisk you away to every exhibition new york had to offer. each outing was carefully orchestrated to fit around your work schedule, and when they didn’t align, he would appear with bags full of treats for you and your students. on the days you worked at the café, you’d often find him seated at a table nearby, lost in the world of his sketches. occasionally, your eyes would meet, an unspoken conversation passing between you.

you couldn’t quite fathom why he went to such lengths to be with you or why he chose to spend his time in your presence. each encounter, wrapped in the glow of café lights or the muted brilliance of gallery walls, left you both puzzled and enchanted. his presence was a gentle constant, like a soft murmur of wind that stirred the leaves of your daily routine. as you navigated your days, his quiet dedication painted a new layer to your life’s canvas, one you hadn’t anticipated but couldn’t ignore.

in those fleeting moments of shared glances and unspoken understanding, you found yourself drawn to him, grappling with the inexplicable warmth of his affection. it was as if he saw something in you—something hidden, yet profoundly significant—and his efforts to bridge the gaps in your lives became a silent testament to his feelings.

despite your confusion, there was a growing realization within you, like a hidden spring slowly unfreezing. his presence wasn’t just a backdrop to your days; it was a catalyst, nudging you toward something you hadn’t yet defined. and with each passing day, you began to wonder if perhaps you were both searching for a place where your paths might finally converge. as the weeks passed, the rhythm of your days began to harmonize with chris’s presence. the city, once a cacophony of distant dreams and scattered hopes, now seemed to pulse with a new, vibrant energy. his frequent visits to the café and his thoughtful interruptions of your routine became a comforting cadence, a reminder that you were not alone in your solitary journey.

in those quiet moments when he would sketch or when you’d catch his gaze from across the room, there was a subtle dance of connection that unfolded—a delicate interplay of curiosity and affection. you noticed how he would sometimes pause, his eyes reflecting a quiet intensity, as if searching for something within you. and in those moments, you couldn’t help but feel that he was unraveling parts of you you hadn’t even known existed.

you started to understand that his attention was not just an act of devotion but a mirror revealing facets of yourself you had kept hidden. each exhibition, each thoughtful gesture, was not just about sharing experiences but about creating a bridge between your worlds. his presence was a reminder that amidst the noise and chaos of life, there was still room for understanding and connection.

though you continued to question the reasons behind his unwavering commitment, a tender curiosity began to blossom within you. you found yourself looking forward to his visits, savoring the way he seemed to fill the gaps in your life with warmth and sincerity. and as the seasons changed, so did your perspective, gradually shifting from bewilderment to a quiet acceptance of the possibility that perhaps, in some way, he was meant to be a part of your story. the rhythm of your life continued to intertwine with chris’s, each day offering new layers to this unfolding connection. his persistent presence brought a warmth that seeped into the corners of your routine, transforming the mundane into something infused with new possibilities. the exhibitions, once a distant dream, now became a shared adventure, each outing a testament to his belief in the beauty of the world and your place within it.

you found yourself eagerly awaiting these moments of escape, the gallery visits becoming more than just breaks from routine. they were brief but intense encounters with a world beyond the confines of your daily struggles. chris’s enthusiasm was a contagious force, drawing you into a vibrant dance of discovery and appreciation.

one crisp evening, as winter's chill began to settle over the city, chris arrived with a surprise. "i thought we’d do something different tonight," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "how about a stroll through the city lights?"

"i have to tutor carl, remember?" you replied, removing your apron with a wistful smile.

"actually, no you don’t," chris said, his smile widening. "i talked to matt, and he said he’d be okay with taking over for tonight." matt, chris's brother, was a harvard student back in new york for winter break. his brilliance was well-known, and you trusted him implicitly.

"oh, okay," you agreed, curiosity piqued. as you walked together through the illuminated streets, the city's energy felt different—more alive, more hopeful. the cool air was invigorating, and with chris by your side, the world seemed to expand, revealing hidden layers of beauty and potential.

as you meandered through the sparkling streets, your conversations flowed freely, punctuated by moments of comfortable silence. chris shared stories of his childhood and the small joys he found in everyday moments. you, in turn, opened up about your own dreams and fears, the walls of your carefully guarded heart slowly coming down.

each street corner revealed a new vista of light and shadow, and with every step, you felt a deeper connection to the city—and to chris. the evening felt like a canvas painted with the *colors* of possibility, each shared laugh and heartfelt conversation adding a new brushstroke to the picture of your evolving bond. the city lights cast a warm glow over the street, their reflections dancing in the cold, darkened windows of nearby buildings. chris and you had walked for hours, your steps and breaths synchronizing in a rhythm of shared moments and unspoken connection. now, standing under a canopy of snow-dusted trees, he stopped abruptly, turning to face you with an intensity that made your heart leap.

“y/n,” he began, his voice a low murmur, almost lost in the hum of the city. “i can’t keep this to myself any longer. being with you these past months… it’s been like finding a part of myself i didn’t know was missing.”

you felt your heart pound, a mixture of hope and fear swirling within you. “chris, i…”

he stepped closer, his gaze never wavering. “let me finish, please,” he implored, his expression earnest. “you’ve become the most important person in my life. your strength, your talent, the way you see the world—it’s all so beautiful to me. i find myself wanting to share everything with you, to be there for you in ways i’ve never wanted with anyone else.”

tears welled up in your eyes, and you blinked them back, trying to hold onto the walls you had built so carefully. “chris, i’m scared. i’ve spent so long being strong, keeping everything inside. letting you in… it’s terrifying.”

he took your hands in his, his touch gentle and r reassuring. “i know,” he whispered. “and i’m not asking you to change or to be anyone other than who you are. i just want to be there for you, to share your burdens and your joys. i want to love you, y/n.”

his words hung in the air, a fragile promise. you felt the weight of his sincerity, the depth of his feelings. and as much as fear gripped your heart, there was also a yearning—a desire to step into the light he offered.

“i don’t know if i can,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “i’ve been hurt before, and the thought of being vulnerable again…”

chris’s eyes softened with understanding. “you don’t have to decide right now. but i want you to know that i’m here, and i’m not going anywhere. you’re worth the risk, y/n. you’re worth everything.”

in that moment, something inside you shifted. the fear didn’t disappear, but it was tempered by a glimmer of hope. and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in, closing the distance between you. your lips met his in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, a silent confession of your own.

the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of warmth and possibility. when you finally pulled back, you saw the same hope reflected in chris’s eyes, a promise of a future you had never dared to dream.

𝜗𝒞

from that night on, your life took on a new rhythm, one marked by shared moments and unspoken understandings. chris continued to surprise you with outings, each one designed to pull you further from your cocoon of fear and into the light of his affection.

each weekend, you found yourselves wandering through various art museums, chris always with a thoughtful expression, you with a mix of curiosity and wariness. at the metropolitan museum of art, you stood before a grand, sweeping landscape painting. chris’s eyes lit up as he took in the vibrant colours, the play of light on the canvas.

“look at how the artist captures the dawn,” he said, his voice filled with awe. “it’s like you can feel the hope and promise of a new day.

you studied the painting, seeing instead the lone figure in the foreground, a small silhouette against the vastness of the landscape. “i see solitude,” you murmured. “a person standing alone, facing the immensity of the world. it’s beautiful, but also so lonely.”

chris turned to you, a thoughtful smile on his lips. “i never thought of it that way. i guess that’s what makes art so incredible—how we can see the same piece so differently.”

𝜗𝒞

at the museum of modern art, you stood before a striking abstract piece, all bold lines and vibrant colours. chris saw movement and energy, the potential for change and growth. you saw chaos, the struggle to find order in the midst of confusion.

“it’s like life,” you said, your voice soft. “so much happening at once, and we’re just trying to make sense of it all.”

chris nodded, his expression contemplative. “but there’s beauty in that struggle, don’t you think? in the way we keep going, keep finding our way through the chaos.”

𝜗𝒞

as the weeks passed, your differing interpretations became a dance, each one revealing more about yourselves and each other. chris’s unwavering optimism was a balm to your often weary soul, while your introspective views grounded his boundless enthusiasm.

one evening, as you strolled through a lesser-known gallery, you stopped before a small, delicate watercolour. it depicted a single tree, its branches reaching skyward, its roots firmly planted in the earth. the simplicity of the image spoke to you in a way few pieces had.

“roots and wings,” chris said softly, his arm slipping around your waist. “the tree is both grounded and reaching for the sky. it’s like us, finding our place in the world while still dreaming of what could be.”

you leaned into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his presence seep into your bones. “maybe,” you whispered, a smile tugging at your lips. “maybe we’re finding our way together.”

in the quiet of the gallery, surrounded by art that spoke in myriad voices, you realized that you were no longer alone. chris’s love had become a guiding light, illuminating the path before you. and as you looked up at him, you saw not just a lover, but a partner, someone who saw the world through a lens of hope and possibility, and who was teaching you to do the same.

the journey was far from over, but for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of peace, a quiet assurance that with chris by your side, you could face whatever came next. and as you walked hand in hand through the gallery, you knew that the future, with all its uncertainties, held a promise of beauty and love yet to be discovered.

the night air was crisp, a faint whisper of winter's end curling through the streets as you and chris strolled back from yet another gallery. the city's lights twinkled like stars that had descended to earth, casting a soft glow that danced in your eyes. you walked in companionable silence, your hearts speaking in the quiet moments between words.

as you neared your apartment, a familiar tension began to creep into your chest. you could feel chris’s gaze on you, his presence a comforting warmth against the chill. yet, with each step closer to your building, the weight of your reality pressed down on you. your mother, the disarray, the stark contrast to the beauty and light chris brought into your life—it all felt too much to reveal.

chris paused at the entrance of your building, turning to face you. his blue eyes, the color of a summer sky, held a depth of emotions you weren't sure you were ready to face. he reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

“i had a wonderful time tonight,” he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your anxious heart.

“me too,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. the fear of what lay beyond this moment was a shadow in your mind, threatening to eclipse the light chris brought.

chris took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering. “i know you have your reasons for not letting me in, for keeping this part of your life hidden. but i want you to know that i care about you, y/n. all of you. your art, your strength, your vulnerabilities—everything.”

his words pierced through the walls you had built, each one a gentle push against your defenses. you opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat, tangled with the fear and shame you carried.

before you could respond, chris stepped closer, his hand cupping your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “you don’t have to be perfect or have everything figured out. i’m here, and i want to be here. for you.”

tears welled in your eyes, the weight of his sincerity almost too much to bear. you looked up at him, seeing not just the man who had become your anchor, but a beacon of hope in a life that often felt too heavy to navigate alone.

“chris—” your voice broke, the words dissolving into the cold night air. but chris understood. he always did.

without another word, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours with a softness that spoke volumes. the kiss was a promise, a silent vow that transcended the fears and uncertainties that plagued your heart. it was a moment of connection, of shared vulnerability, that neither of you could deny.

when he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, seeking the reassurance you struggled to give. “i’ll wait, y/n. as long as it takes.”

you nodded, the tears finally spilling over as you whispered, “thank you.”

chris smiled, a bittersweet curve of his lips that held the promise of understanding and patience. “goodnight, y/n,” he said, pressing a final, tender kiss to your forehead before turning to leave.

you watched him go, a mixture of relief and longing twisting in your chest. the night felt colder without him, the weight of your reality settling back over you like a heavy cloak. yet, as you turned to enter your building, a small flame of hope burned within you, kindled by chris’s unwavering support.

one day, you thought. one day, you would find the strength to let him in completely. until then, you would carry this night with you, a reminder that love and understanding could pierce even the darkest corners of your life.

as the weeks passed, you and chris continued to explore the city's art museums. every night would end the same way, with chris walking you home, lingering at the doorstep with a kiss that held all the promises of tomorrow. and every night, you would retreat into your world, holding onto the hope that one day, you would find the courage to let him in completely.

chris’s footsteps echoed through the silent hallway as he approached the door. he knocked on your door, his heart heavy with a mixture of hope and confusion. when the door finally swung open, his eyes searched for a sign of the warmth and openness he’d come to expect from their evenings together. but the darkness of the living room, the disheveled remnants of a life in disarray, struck him like a cold wind.

“are you ever going to let me in?” chris asked softly, the question laced with the delicate edges of frustration and concern. his voice trembled, not from anger but from the sting of being so close yet so distanced.

your eyes, shadowed by the dim light from the hallway, flared with a sudden intensity. “it’s not about letting you in. it’s about what’s behind this door.”

chris stepped closer, his gaze fixed on you. “i don’t understand. i thought we were building something together. but every time i try to get close, you shut me out.”

“building something?” your voice was a mere whisper, yet it carried the weight of countless sleepless nights. “do you think you can simply erase the mess of my life with your visits and your hopeful smiles?”

“i’m not trying to erase anything,” chris insisted. “i want to be here for you, to understand. but you keep pushing me away.”

“and i keep pushing you away because i don’t want you to see this,” you said, gesturing vaguely at the cluttered, sorrowful room. “it’s not just a room; it’s my entire world, falling apart. i don’t want you to see how i live, how i struggle.”

chris’s expression softened, though frustration still clouded his features. “but isn’t part of being together facing those struggles? you don’t have to hide from me.”

your eyes shimmered with a blend of pain and resignation. “you say that now, but what happens when you see the full picture? when you see that my life is a perpetual struggle, not a picture-perfect canvas?”

chris’s voice rose, filled with an aching intensity. “why do you think i’d turn away? why do you believe that knowing the full picture would change how i feel about you?”

“because,” you retorted, your voice breaking, “because it’s not just about how you feel about me. it’s about what you’ll see in me—the chaos, the failures, the person i can’t escape from.”

chris’s frustration boiled over. “you’re not a failure! and you’re not your circumstances. but you have to let me see who you really are, not just the part you choose to show.”

your face crumpled with anguish. “you don’t understand. the chaos, the disarray—it’s not just an obstacle. it’s a reflection of everything i’ve had to sacrifice, every dream i’ve had to let go. you think you can just walk in and fix it all?”

“i don’t want to fix it all,” chris said, his voice heavy with a plea for understanding. “i want to be here with you, through all of it. but you’re not letting me in.”

there was a long, painful silence. your shoulders slumped, your defenses faltering. “i do not know how to let you in. i have spent so long building walls to keep everyone out. i’m afraid that if i let you see everything, it will be too much for you.”

chris reached out, gently touching your arm. “you don’t have to do this alone. let me help you, not by fixing everything, but by being here with you. by understanding that the mess and the chaos are part of who you are, and that’s okay.”

your tears fell freely now, mingling with your whispered words. “i don’t want to be a burden to you. i don’t want to drag you down into my darkness.”

chris’s expression was one of profound compassion. “you’re not a burden. you’re a person i care deeply about. and if that means standing by you through the darkness, then i’ll do that willingly.”

your gaze met his, a flicker of hope amidst your sorrow. “but what if the darkness is too much? what if it’s something i can never escape?”

chris’s voice was steady, filled with conviction. “then we face it together. we learn from it, grow from it. but you don’t have to face it alone.”

in the stillness that followed, the room seemed to hold its breath, as if awaiting the resolution of their anguished debate. your heart ached with the raw vulnerability of your exchange, yet for the first time, you felt a fragile bridge forming between your fears and chris’s unwavering support.

and in that quiet, amidst the shadows and the echoes of your argument, a fragile understanding began to take shape—one that might, if nurtured, bridge the divide between your hearts and heal the wounds that had kept you both apart.

𝜗𝒞

the invitation to dinner at chris’s house felt both exhilarating and daunting for you. the idea of being part of a family gathering—a far cry from your own fractured home life—was both thrilling and intimidating.

the sturniolo house looked like something out of a postcard, the kind with perfectly manicured lawns and warm lights glowing from within. it was the kind of home that promised safety, stability—everything you’d never had. chris parked the car and gave you one of his easy smiles, the kind that usually made you feel like you could conquer anything, but tonight it barely reached you.

“you ready?” he asked, voice full of optimism as he turned off the engine.

you nodded, though your stomach was a knot of nerves. feeling like the plastic one among a garden of real, breathing things. and now, sitting here on this impossibly quiet street, you couldn’t help but think about how you’d never be the “best american girl” that chris’ family probably wanted for him.

the door opened to a flood of warmth, both from the house and the people inside. the air smelled of something delicious—rosemary, maybe, and roasted chicken. marylou was the first to greet you, her smile wide and welcoming, though it felt more like a spotlight than a comfort.

“hi, sweetheart! we’ve heard so much about you!” she gushed, pulling you into a hug that was more familiar than you were ready for.

“thank you, mrs. sturniolo,” you replied, your voice small and hesitant.

“oh, call me marylou!” she insisted, her hands gripping your shoulders as she held you at arm’s length, examining you with a look that was both kind and curious. “we’re so glad you could join us. chris never stops talking about you!”

you forced a smile, the words catching in your throat. what could you possibly say to that? the truth would be a disaster, but lying felt like choking on your own breath. so you just nodded, trying to ease the anxiety that buzzed under your skin like a thousand tiny needles. marylou was warm and welcoming, but her kindness only made you more anxious. you couldn’t help but think about your own mom, how different she was from the picture-perfect mother marylou seemed to be. what would they think if they knew about the nights you spent cleaning up after your mother, the times you had to be the adult when she couldn’t be?

jimmy appeared next, tall and imposing with a firm handshake and a face that was harder to read. “good to finally meet you,” he said, his tone polite but measured, like he was trying to size you up in just a few words.

“nice to meet you too, mr. sturniolo,” you replied, hoping your voice didn’t betray how much you felt like an intruder in their world.

“jimmy,” he corrected with a nod, but you could feel the unspoken assessment in his gaze, a weight that pressed down on you with every second.

the triplets entered the room like a burst of energy, and the tension shifted, just a little. nick, with his bright, boyish charm, came at you first, grinning from ear to ear.

“hey, finally! the famous coffee shop girl,” he teased, pulling you into a quick hug. “chris wouldn’t shut up about how cool you are.”

you managed a laugh, the sound more hollow than you intended. “i could say the same about you. he talks about you guys all the time.”

matt followed, quieter but no less genuine, giving you a smile that felt more like a lifeline than anything else. “good to see you again,” he said, his voice a little softer, more reserved.

you smiled back, grateful for the familiarity. “you too, matt. thanks for all your help with my tutoring.”

“no problem,” he said, his eyes understanding more than his words let on.

and then there was justin, the one you’d heard about but never met. he stepped forward with a more distant smile, like he was trying to figure out where you fit into this picture.

“so, you’re the girl who’s stolen chris away from us, huh?” he said, his tone half-joking but with an edge that made you uncomfortable.

“uh, i guess so,” you replied, shifting awkwardly.

dinner at the sturniolos’ felt like stepping onto a stage with no script, and you were in the spotlight, unprepared and unsure of your lines. dinner was served in a dining room that looked like it belonged in a magazine. the table was set with what seemed like a million utensils, each one gleaming under the soft light. you fumbled for the right fork, your fingers trembling slightly as you tried to keep your focus on the conversation buzzing around you.

they asked you about school—whether you were planning to go back, what your major would’ve been, what your future looked like now. every question felt like a tiny cut, opening wounds you didn’t want them to see. you stammered through vague answers, feeling the disappointment settle like a stone in your chest.

“oh, i’m just taking things one day at a time,” you lied, the words bitter on your tongue. “i’m not really sure what the future holds.”

marylou’s face softened with concern, but it only made you feel worse. “it’s important to take care of yourself,” she said gently. “you’re young—you have plenty of time to figure it out.”

but you knew better. time was something you couldn’t afford, not with the bills piling up and your mom’s condition growing worse by the day. you could see it in their eyes—they didn’t understand. how could they? this wasn’t their world. their worries were about grades and careers, not about whether there’d be enough money to keep the lights on.

chris tried to steer the conversation toward lighter topics, but it was no use. every word felt like another reminder of how different your lives were, how far apart you were from the kind of future they imagined for their son.

you felt like you were drowning, every breath a struggle as you tried to keep up with their lively chatter. they laughed and teased each other, stories flowing effortlessly, while you sat there, every smile forced, every laugh hollow.

it was matt who noticed first, his sharp eyes catching the tension in your shoulders and the way you kept your answers short and guarded. he didn’t say anything, but the slight frown on his face told you he understood. across the table, matt caught your eye, offering you a small, reassuring smile. it was a silent reminder that you weren’t completely alone here, that someone understood at least a part of your life. but even his quiet support couldn’t erase the feeling that you were out of place—a square peg in a round hole.

nick, oblivious as always, kept the conversation going, asking you about your favorite books, movies, everything that felt light and easy, but you couldn’t shake the weight in your chest. you could barely meet their eyes, every question a reminder of how much you didn’t belong here, how you’d never be the kind of girl they wanted for chris.

chris reached under the table, his hand finding yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. you looked at him, trying to find comfort in his smile, but even that felt distant, like it was just out of reach. he believed in you, you knew that, but right now, it wasn’t enough. you were drowning in your own insecurities, the fear that you’d never be good enough for him, for his family, for anyone.

as the night dragged on, you couldn’t help but feel like you were playing a role in a play you didn’t understand, the words heavy and unfamiliar on your tongue. the sturniolos were everything you weren’t—successful, confident, a family that had it all together. and you were just… you. the girl with the broken home, the one who had to drop out of school to pay the bills, the one who had no idea what the future held.

by the time dessert was served, you felt like you couldn’t breathe, the walls closing in as their voices filled the room, warm and familiar, everything you’d never had. you excused yourself, slipping away to the bathroom, where you locked the door and sank to the floor, trying to catch your breath.

you felt like you were unraveling, every thread of your life coming apart as you sat there, the weight of their expectations crushing you. you weren’t their best american girl, the one who had it all together, the one who could make their son happy without bringing all your baggage with you.

and as you sat there, you felt the cruel reminder of everything you weren’t, everything you could never be. you were just a girl who was trying to survive, who had sacrificed everything for a future that felt more uncertain with each passing day.

when you finally emerged, your face composed but your heart heavy, you found chris waiting for you, concern etched on his face.

“are you okay?” he asked softly, his hand reaching for yours.

you nodded, forcing a smile. “yeah, i’m fine. just needed a minute.”

but you weren’t fine, and as the night wore on, you knew it would be a long time before you felt anything close to okay again. dinner continued, the sturniolos oblivious to the turmoil in your mind. they laughed, they shared stories, they embraced the easy camaraderie that comes from years of being a family. but you were adrift, caught between the image of who they thought you were and the reality you couldn’t escape.

as the evening wound down and the sturniolos began clearing the table, chris walked you to the door. the night air was cool against your skin, a welcome relief from the warmth of the house. he turned to you, his eyes searching yours.

“you did great in there,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “they loved you.”

you wanted to believe him, but the doubt lingered, clinging to you like a second skin. “thanks,” you whispered, your voice heavy with the weight of unspoken fears. “but i’m not sure i’m the girl they think i am.”

chris frowned, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand. “you’re exactly who you’re supposed to be. and they’ll see that. i see that.”

his words were meant to comfort, but they only deepened the ache inside you. because as much as you wanted to believe him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were a square peg trying to fit into a round hole, that no matter how hard you tried, you would never be the girl who belonged at that dinner table, in that world.

as you said your goodbyes and walked away, you couldn’t help the word “imposter” echoing in your mind—a painful reminder that sometimes, no matter how much you try to fit in, you can’t change who you are or where you come from. and maybe, just maybe, that was okay. even if it didn’t feel that way tonight.

𝜗𝒞

inside, marylou watched you leave, her heart heavy with concern. she turned to chris, who was still standing by the door, his eyes following you through the window. there was a softness in his gaze, a tenderness that made her heart ache.

“chris,” she began, her voice gentle but firm, “can we talk for a moment?”

“‘course, mom. what’s up?” chris replied, sensing the seriousness in her tone.

marylou hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “i’ve been thinking about tonight, about y/n.”

chris’s brow furrowed slightly. “what about her?”

marylou sighed, reaching out to place a hand on his. “i can see how much you care about her, chris. it’s written all over your face. but i have to ask—are you sure this is worth it? i mean, the two of you are in such different places. she’s carrying so much on her shoulders, taking care of her mother, trying to hold everything together. and you… you have all these dreams, these goals. you’ve already applied to art programs all over the world.”

chris’s eyes widened slightly. “how do you know about that?”

marylou smiled faintly. “a mother knows. i saw the letters, the applications. i’m proud of you for going after what you want, but have you thought about what that means for her? for the two of you?”

chris looked down, his thoughts swirling. He hadn’t told you about the applications yet, hadn’t found the right moment to share that part of his life. he loved you, but there was a gnawing doubt, a fear that maybe his mother was right, that maybe your paths were destined to diverge.

marylou squeezed his hand. “i’m not saying you should give up on her. but i want you to think about what you’re asking of each other. is it fair to hold on if it’s only going to bring more pain down the road?”

chris felt his heart clench at the thought. he wanted to believe that love could conquer all, that the connection you shared was strong enough to weather any storm. but as he looked up at his mother, he saw the wisdom in her eyes, the concern for his future, and for yours.

“i don’t know, mom,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t know if i could ever let her go.”

marylou nodded, her expression softening. “just promise me you’ll think about it, chris. i know you want to help her, to be there for her. but sometimes, love means making the hard decisions, even if it means letting each other go.”

chris swallowed hard, the weight of his mother’s words settling on his shoulders. “i will, i promise.”

marylou leaned in, kissing his forehead softly. “i just want what’s best for both of you, chris. whatever that might be.”

as chris sat there, the room quiet around him, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was a way for the two of you to find a future together—or if you were destined to become another sad song, another missed opportunity, as your paths inevitably drifted apart.

the weeks had slipped by in a rhythm you were starting to get used to—late-night conversations with chris, shared laughs over cups of coffee, and those stolen moments where everything else in the world seemed to fade away. but lately, chris had seemed a little distant, preoccupied. you chalked it up to his art, the way he sometimes got lost in his work, but there was something else, a tension that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

then, one evening, during one of your dates at a cozy little restaurant you both loved, chris seemed especially quiet. the two of you were tucked away in a corner booth, surrounded by the warm glow of candlelight, your usual banter replaced by a heavy silence.

“hey, what’s going on?” you asked, reaching across the table to place your hand over his. “you’ve been a million miles away all night.”

chris looked down at your hands, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as if he were trying to find the right words. finally, he took a deep breath and met your eyes, his expression a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

“i got some news,” he began, his voice careful, as though he were stepping onto fragile ground. “and... i have been trying to figure out how to tell you.”

you felt a knot tighten in your stomach. “what is it, chris? you can tell me anything.”

he hesitated, then blurted out, “i got offered a residency at the école des beaux-arts in paris.”

for a moment, the words didn’t register. paris? the prestigious école des beaux-arts? it was the kind of opportunity that only came once in a lifetime. but as the reality of what he was saying sank in, so did the implications.

“that’s... that’s amazing, chris,” you managed to say, your voice tinged with both awe and dread. “i’m so proud of you.”

he smiled, but it was a small, uncertain smile, as if he knew there was more to say. “i didn’t tell you because i wasn’t sure if it would actually happen. i didn’t want to get our hopes up, but... now it’s real.”

you nodded, trying to keep your emotions in check. “when do you leave?”

“in september,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “it’s for an entire school year, but if it goes well, it could turn into something more permanent.”

the weight of his words hung in the air between you, heavy and unspoken. this was everything chris had ever wanted, everything he’d been working toward for as long as you’d known him. and you were genuinely happy for him—ecstatic, even—but beneath that happiness was a growing sense of loss.

chris watched your reaction closely, his eyes searching yours for something, anything, that would reassure him. “moonie, i don’t know how to do this,” he confessed. “i don’t know how to leave you behind.”

the pain in his voice cut through you like a knife. you knew what he wasn’t saying, what he was afraid to admit—that this residency could mean the end of your relationship, the end of everything you’d built together.

“you shouldn’t have to choose, chris,” you said softly, though your heart was breaking. “this is your dream. you have to go.”

he looked at you, his expression torn. “but what about us? i don’t want to lose you.”

you forced a smile, even as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “you’re not losing me, chris. you’re gaining everything you’ve ever worked for. i’ll always be proud of you, no matter what.”

chris squeezed your hand, his grip tightening as if he were holding on for dear life. “i wish... i wish things could be different.”

you nodded, blinking away the tears. “me too.”

the rest of the evening passed in a blur of bittersweet conversation, both of you trying to ignore the inevitable. but in your heart, you knew that the clock was ticking, that the moment chris stepped onto that plane to paris, everything would change. and as much as it hurt, you also knew that you couldn’t stand in the way of his dreams, no matter how much you loved him.

𝜗𝒞

spring had arrived, painting the world in soft pastels and fragrant blooms, but the season’s warmth couldn’t chase away the growing sense of dread that hung between you and chris. each day felt like a countdown to the inevitable, and though you both tried to hide it, the weight of his upcoming departure loomed over every conversation, every touch, every stolen glance.

you walked together through the park, the cherry blossoms above you shedding petals like gentle tears. chris held your hand, but there was a tension in his grip, as if he were afraid that if he let go, you might disappear. the sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the world, but all you could feel was the darkness closing in.

neither of you spoke much, the silence between you heavy and charged with everything left unsaid. you both knew what was coming, and the closer it got, the harder it became to ignore the truth that you’d been avoiding for weeks.

finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. you stopped walking, pulling your hand from his and turning to face him. the words were stuck in your throat, but you forced them out, knowing that this conversation was as necessary as it was painful.

“chris,” you began, your voice trembling, “we need to talk about paris.”

he looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and fear. “i know,” he said quietly, as if he’d been dreading this moment as much as you had.

you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “i don’t want you to go to paris thinking about me,” you said, your voice breaking. “i don’t want you to hold back or hesitate because of us.”

chris’s face crumpled, and he reached out to you, his hands gripping your shoulders as if he were afraid to let you go. “i can’t just stop thinking about you, y/n,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “you’re everything to me.”

tears welled up in your eyes, and you shook your head, trying to be strong, even though every word felt like it was tearing you apart. “but that’s just it, chris. you have this incredible opportunity, and i don’t want to be the reason you miss out on any of it. i don’t want you to feel torn between your dreams and... and us.”

he looked at you, desperate to find a way to make it all work, to keep everything from falling apart. “but we can make it work,” he insisted, his voice cracking. “we’ll figure it out. we’ll make it through this.”

you shook your head again, the tears spilling over now. “it’s not that simple, chris. you’ll be on the other side of the world, and I’ll be here, and... and we both know how hard that will be. i don’t want us to end up resenting each other because of the distance, because of the what-ifs and the maybes.”

chris’s grip on your shoulders tightened, as if holding onto you could keep everything from slipping away. “so, what are you saying?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he were afraid of your answer.

you swallowed hard, trying to find the strength to say the words you knew needed to be said. “maybe... maybe we should end things now,” you said, your heart breaking with each syllable. “before it gets any harder. before we both end up hurt.”

chris stared at you, his eyes wide with shock and pain. “you don’t mean that,” he said, his voice shaking. “you can’t mean that.”

“i do,” you whispered, though it felt like a lie even as you said it. “i love you too much to hold you back, sunny. and i love you too much to let us fall apart slowly, to watch us unravel because we couldn’t let go when we needed to.”

the tears were streaming down your face now, and chris pulled you into his arms, holding you as tightly as he could, as if he could fuse you together and keep you from slipping away. “i don’t want to lose you,” he choked out, his voice thick with tears.

“and i don’t want to lose you,” you sobbed into his chest. “but we can’t hold on to something that’s only going to hurt us in the end.”

you stayed like that for a long time, clinging to each other as the world around you grew darker, the spring air turning chilly as the sun dipped below the horizon. neither of you wanted to let go, neither of you wanted to face the reality that was closing in on you.

but eventually, you both knew it was time. with a final, heart-wrenching kiss, you pulled away, wiping the tears from your eyes and trying to steady yourself. “you’re going to do amazing things, sunny,” you said, your voice trembling but firm. “and i’ll always be proud of you.”

he nodded, his own tears glistening in the fading light. “and i’ll always love you, moonie. no matter where i am. please don’t let your dreams go. the world deserves to see your art, angel.”

you gave him a small, sad smile, knowing that this was the beginning of the end, the moment where your paths started to diverge. and as you walked away from him, leaving the park and the spring blossoms behind, you felt the weight of the future pressing down on you—a future without chris, without the person who had meant everything to you.

and though you knew it was the right thing to do, it didn’t make the pain any less real. the two of you had tried so hard to hold on, to make it work, but sometimes love wasn’t enough to bridge the gap between dreams and reality.

𝜗𝒞

the weeks that followed were a blur of heartache and routine. you threw yourself into your work, trying to numb the pain that gnawed at you. each shift at the café felt like an eternity, a constant reminder of what you’d lost.

one evening, after another long day, you trudged home to the small, cluttered apartment you shared with your mother. she was sitting at the kitchen table, her face flushed with alcohol. the dim light cast long shadows, adding to the oppressive atmosphere of the room.

as you walked in, she looked up with a vacant expression, her words slurred but surprisingly clear. “you know, kiddo,” she began, her voice soft and almost gentle, “life’s... it’s not easy. it’s like a constant fight. i see you trying so hard, and it’s like... you’ve got this light in you. don’t let it go out. don’t... don’t let it be for nothing.”

you were taken aback by her unexpected clarity. the vulnerability in her voice, the rare moment of motherly concern, struck a chord deep within you. you sat down, your heart aching, as she continued to speak in a quiet, rambling monologue about her regrets and missed opportunities.

but the next morning, when you awoke, her words were already a distant memory, overshadowed by the haze of her intoxicated state. she was back to her usual self, lost in her own world of highs and lows, her brief moment of insight forgotten.

despite her fleeting clarity, her words lingered in your mind, echoing through the silent corners of your heart. they were a stark reminder of the dreams you harbored, the life you wanted to reclaim, and the harsh reality of your current existence. they offered a glimmer of hope amidst the despair, urging you to keep moving forward, even as the world seemed determined to keep you tethered to the past.

chris stumbled through the rain, his once-pristine outfit now clinging to him like a second skin, saturated and heavy. each drop felt like a judgment, each gust of wind a reminder of the chasm between his art and his heart. he was drenched to the bone, but he barely noticed. his mind was a storm, as tumultuous as the weather around him, swirling with remnants of the love that had slipped through his grasp.

his heart ached with a familiar ache—a blend of longing and loss—as he approached your home, the apartment complex that now seemed more distant than ever. the light from inside spilled through the gaps in the curtains, casting warm pools of light onto the wet pavement. he raised his hand, trembling slightly, and knocked on the door.

the door swung open to reveal your mother, her face shadowed by the cigarette she held between her fingers, smoke curling lazily into the night air. her gaze, though steady, held a mix of curiosity and wariness. she looked at chris with an understanding that came from witnessing her daughter’s silent struggles.

“you must be the one who stole my daughter’s heart,” she said, her voice a gravelly whisper. there was a note of reluctant admiration in her tone, mingled with the faintest hint of something else—perhaps hope or desperation.

chris nodded, his voice nearly lost in the rain’s cacophony. “is she here?”

“she’s in the shower,” your mother replied, stepping aside to let him in. “come on in. we’ll wait for her.”

as chris stepped into the warmth of the house, he was immediately enveloped by a heavy sense of confinement—both literal and emotional. the interior was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of cigarettes and a faint undertone of stale beer. they moved to the living room, where chris sank onto a worn-out sofa while your mother took a seat opposite him, her eyes reflecting a guarded empathy.

“i know you’re probably wondering why i’m here,” chris began, his voice hoarse and tired. “but i needed to see her. i needed to understand.”

your mother exhaled slowly, releasing a cloud of smoke into the room. “you know,” she started, her voice softening, “she was always so sensitive as a child. she never let it show, but she felt everything deeply. when her father left, she blamed herself, even though she shouldn’t have. she tried to be strong, to make up for what was missing, but it wore her down.”

chris listened, absorbing the weight of her words. the room seemed to close in on him, the silence punctuated only by the occasional crackle of the rain against the windows. your mother’s eyes held a sadness that mirrored his own.

“y/n took on more than she could handle,” she continued, her tone a mix of regret and resignation. “i couldn’t be there for her—i was too wrapped up in my own failures. she’s had to be a caretaker, always putting others before herself. but lately, with you, i’ve seen a change. she’s been happier, more like herself. she wouldn’t tell me and i’m too coward to ask questions anymore but you’ve made a difference. and for that, i’m grateful.” chris nodded, your mother’s unexpected words hitting him like a ton of bricks. “she’s a good kid, you’d be a fool to let her go— i know i am.”

the sound of the bathroom door creaking open broke the heavy silence. chris’s heart skipped a beat as he saw you emerge, in a set of pyjamas and droplets of water still clinging to your hair. your eyes widened in surprise when they landed on him, a mix of confusion and anxiety crossing your face.

“chris?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“i needed to talk to you,” chris said, standing up and moving toward you. “can we go outside? just for a minute?”

you nodded, your gaze flickering between him and your mother, who gave you a reassuring nod. together, you stepped out into the rain, the cool droplets mingling with the warmth of your lingering emotions.

as the night enveloped you both, the rain drummed softly around you, a gentle, melancholic accompaniment to the conversation that was about to unfold.

the rain cascaded around you both, turning the world into a blurry, shimmering painting of melancholy and despair. chris stood before you, drenched and desperate, his eyes pleading with a depth of emotion that seemed to defy the storm's intensity. his voice was raw, breaking through the rain as he spoke with a fervor born of both hope and anguish.

“i can’t be anything without you,” he cried out, "i find myself unable to draw breath or live without you. you have woven yourself into every fiber of my being, occupying my thoughts, my dreams, my very essence. without you, i am lost—unable to be or do anything of meaning. you are my muse, y/n, the very air i breathe." his words cutting through the tumult of the storm. “come with me to paris, i leave tonight you can come with me. we can build a life there. we can be—everything we’ve dreamed of. i need you, y/n. please.”

“i can’t,” you choked out, your voice breaking under the weight of your grief. “i can’t leave my mom. she needs me. i—”

your voice faltered, but the flood of reasons came pouring out in a torrent of desperation. “i am not right for you, chris. i can’t even give you what you want. i’ve got nothing to offer. i am too broken, too caught up in this life that’s crumbling around me. i would ruin you. i’d drag you down.”

as each reason left your lips, chris’s eyes filled with more tears, his resolve unshaken by your pleas. with every reason you listed, he responded, his voice breaking through your objections, “i love you, y/n.” the words were tender, insistent, and utterly unyielding. his repetition of those three words was both a comfort and a torment, a balm that only seemed to amplify your pain.

“stop,” you cried out, frustration and anguish mingling in your voice. “stop saying that. it doesn’t change anything. it doesn’t make me any less broken.”

for a moment, silence enveloped you both, the rain’s rhythmic patter the only sound in the quiet space between you. chris looked at you with a mixture of sorrow and determination, and then he spoke again, his voice gentle but firm. “those aren’t reasons to me. you are everything i have ever wanted. you’re my heart, my soul. i need you.”

tears streamed down your face, blending with the rain, as you felt the weight of his words, the finality of his plea. he continued, his voice trembling with every utterance, “please, y/n. i need you with me. i can’t imagine my life without you.”

you reached out, pulling him into a desperate kiss, one filled with all the love and sorrow that words couldn’t convey. the kiss was a blend of passion and farewell, an attempt to capture a lifetime of feeling in a single, fleeting moment. when you finally pulled away, both of you breathless and teary-eyed, the gravity of the situation became undeniable.

“i can’t,” you repeated softly, your voice breaking. “i just can’t. this is the end.”

chris leaned in for one final, heart-wrenching kiss. it was slow and aching, as if trying to savor every last second before the inevitable goodbye. as the kiss lingered, it felt like an eternity, a final, beautiful moment suspended in time. but even as you both struggled to end it, you knew it had to be over. you pulled away, your hearts breaking with the weight of the farewell.

with a heavy heart, you walked back into the house, your tears mixing with the rain on your face. the warmth of the interior felt hollow compared to the storm outside, and you collapsed onto the floor, the sobs that erupted from you visceral and agonizing. you were consumed by a pain that seemed to tear at your very soul.

your mother rushed to your side, her arms enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and unconditional love. she held you close, her own tears mingling with yours, her kisses on your forehead gentle and soothing. “it’s okay,” she whispered, her voice a tender murmur in the midst of your sobs. “it’s okay. i’m here.”

as you wept, her embrace was a fragile comfort, a small beacon of solace amidst the overwhelming grief. the rain continued to fall outside, its relentless rhythm a mournful echo of the love that had slipped through your fingers.

𝜗𝒞

the morning sun filtered through the thin curtains, casting a pale light over the room. you lay in bed, feeling the aftershocks of the emotional whirlwind from the night before. the storm had passed, leaving behind a quieter, more reflective day.

your mother’s footsteps approached with a newfound determination. she entered the room, her demeanor more resolute than you’d seen in a long time. sitting on the edge of your bed, she took a deep breath, her gaze steady and earnest.

“i am going to rehab. i need to get better, not just for me, but for you too.”

the gravity of her words hit you like a tidal wave. you stared at her, trying to reconcile this new resolve with the image of her that had been marred by addiction. “rehab?” you echoed, trying to grasp the significance of this decision.

“yes,” she said, nodding. “i can’t stand to see myself ruining more of your life, especially after everything that happened the other night. it’s time for me to step away and focus on getting better. but i need you to listen to me.”

you sat up, feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety. “what is it?

“when i come back,” she continued, her eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity, “i expect you to start focusing on yourself. i want you to pursue your art, to follow your dreams. it’s time for you to stop putting your life on hold for me.”

her words felt like a lifeline, pulling you from the depths of despair and giving you a glimpse of a future you’d almost forgotten. “but—”

“no,” she interrupted gently, placing a hand on yours. “no more excuses. you’ve put your dreams aside for too long. i need to make this right, and that means letting you live your life fully, without the burden of my problems.”

tears brimmed in your eyes, but this time they were a mixture of hope and fear. “i don’t know if i can—”

“you can,” she said firmly, her voice unwavering. “you have so much talent, so much potential. i’ve seen it in you, and i believe in you. when i come back, i want to see you thriving, not just surviving. i want you to be the artist you’ve always dreamed of being.”

the promise in her words, the sincerity of her intention, was a beacon of hope that cut through the lingering darkness. you squeezed her hand, feeling a flicker of determination ignite within you.

“okay,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “i’ll follow my dreams momma.”

“good,” she said, a smile touching her lips. “that’s what i want. to see you finally living the life you deserve. i am going to get better, and i’m going to make sure that when i come back, things are different for both of us.”

as she stood to leave, the weight of her decision seemed to settle over you like a cloak of both comfort and challenge. you watched her go, a fragile but potent hope blooming within you. the path ahead would be difficult, but for the first time in a long while, it felt like there was a clear direction—a chance to reclaim your dreams and build a future, even as you navigated the complexities of healing and change.

the years had passed in a blur of creative fervor and personal growth. you found yourself standing in your studio, surrounded by the pieces that had become your voice, your outlet, your lifeline. the gallery was bustling with the energy of a successful exhibition, and as you moved through the space, a sense of accomplishment filled you.

a gallery assistant approached, her face alight with excitement. “you won’t believe this,” she said, her voice barely containing her enthusiasm. “someone has bought every single piece of your work. every last one.”

you blinked, a mix of surprise and curiosity washing over you. “every piece?”

“yes,” she confirmed, nodding eagerly. “they want to meet you. they’re waiting in the back room.”

a flutter of anticipation gripped your chest as you followed her through the gallery. you entered the back room and stopped short. there, standing amidst your art, was chris. his appearance had changed—his face now framed by a beard, his hair longer, his style different. yet, despite the differences, his eyes remained the same: those summer eyes, deep and familiar, that had once held so much promise and pain.

“sunny?” you whispered, your heart skipping a beat as the recognition hit you.

he turned to you, a slow smile spreading across his face. “moonie,” he said, his voice holding a mix of nostalgia and affection.

ᨳུ⠀ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @flouvela @l34n @sofieeeeex @sturniolossss @eternaldecisions @lovingregulusblack @cl1tlover3000 to be added click here

my inbox is always open !!! pls feed it some content 🧸🫐 likes, comments & reblogs are highly appreciated.

#sirenedeslily ✶ ˖ ࣪#christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo blurb #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #christopher sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturiolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x you #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader

188 notes · View notes

elaratyrell · 1 year

Text

The Lost Boys {Aemond x Reader, Aegon x Reader, Cregan x Reader, Jace x Reader}

-> Part One {Introduction}

*All images found on Pinterest*

Warnings: Language, mentions of drugs and drug use

*Divider from Firefly Graphics*

Synopsis: Wanting a fresh start after her divorce, Rhaenyra and her two sons, Jace and Luke travel to Dragonstone island to live with her father Viserys. While Luke seems happy enough reading comic books and attending the nearby amusement park, Jacaerys seems to resent his new life here. That is, however, until he meets you. The catch? You're part of a gang of vampires. And Jace becomes their newest target.

"We're almost there."

"You said that an hour ago," Luke groaned, slumping back against the car seat.

"Well now I know we definitely are," Rhaenyra replied. "Look." She pointed to a rather large, faded billboard depicting a long pier leading out to the sea, the words Welcome to Dragonstone Island adorning the board in large white letters.

"What's that smell?" Luke asked, his white German Shephard, Arrax, sniffing the air intently.

Rhaenyra inhaled deeply "Sea air," She sighed with contentment.

"Smells like death," A voice piped up from beside Luke.

"Well look who finally decided to wake up," the younger boy teased as his older brother, whose gaze was focused on behind the billboard, where the words Murder Capital of the World had been spray painted on in scarlet. Jace simply grunted in response, earning a sigh from his mother.

"Look, there's an amusement park right on the beach!" Luke exclaimed. "Mum, can we go there?"

"Maybe later, Luke. Your grandfather's expecting us and I'll need help unpacking our things."

"Fine," Luke sighed, scratching Arrax behind the ears as Rhaenyra pulled into a gas station. He eagerly clambered out of the car with Arrax, running into the station to fill up his pockets with snacks.

"Are you okay?" Rhaenyra asked as she got out the car, looking at where her eldest son was resting his head on his propped up arm, the window rolled down halfway.

"I'm fine." Was his response.

"Look, Jace, I know you're still upset by the divorce-"

"I'm fine."

"Things sometimes just don't work out," Rhaenyra continued, resting a hand on his forearm. "Harwin and I-"

"You don't need to explain your break up to me." Jace interrupted. "If it's what you had to do, it's what you had to do."

Rhaenyra lightly squeezed his arm. "I understand how hard that's been for you, Jace. And I understand if you feel any sort of resentment towards me, or your father. But who knows, this could do you the world of good. Fresh sea air, a change of scenery... I'm sure you can even find somewhere you can ride that... contraption-"

"Vermax is a motorcycle, mother," Jace mumbled.

"The fact that you named it," Luke said as he got back into to car with Arrax, his voice slightly muffled by the candy bar he was shovelling into his mouth. "Just makes it sound even more crap."

"Luke, language," Rhaenyra chided before turning back to her eldest. "Yes, I am aware, and even though I personally wouldn't invest in such a thing, your father seemed more than happy to provide you with the money, so who am I to argue? That being said," She held up her index finger. "No gangs-"

"I know, you said that back in King's Landing." Jace rolled his eyes, turning his face away from Rhaenyra, ending the conversation.

"He looks dead."

"Luke, don't say such things," Rhaenyra gasped, getting out the car.

They had pulled up to an old manor house at the top of the hill, the stone walls crawling with ivy and moss, the red paint on the front door peeling from age. Sat there in an old rocking chair on the front porch was an old man, his stringy silver hair tied into a braid, a shotgun resting on his lap. He was clad in a red and black plaid shirt and ratty blue denim jeans faded with age, a pair of black slippers on his feet. He was slouched over slightly, his eyes half closed and mouth slightly agape.

"Father," Rhaenyra murmured, her hand resting on the old man's shoulder. "Father," She repeated, her voice raised slightly as she gently shook his shoulder.

"He's dead."

"Luke, he's just a deep sleeper." Jace rolled his eyes.

"He doesn't look like he's breathing."

"He is."

"If he's dead, can we move back to King's Landing-"

"Luke!" Rhaenyra exclaimed. "That's enough."

"Playing dead," The old man rasped, opening his eyes. "And doing a good job too, from the looks of things."

"Father," Rhaenyra let out a deep exhale of relief, her hand held to her chest. "Thank goodness."

"It is good to see you." Viserys smiled, slowly rising to his feet with his daughter's help to embrace her. "I will get a pot of tea ready while you unpack."

As Viserys shuffled inside, Luke shared a look with Jace.

"Well... Grandpa's a loon."

"Just get the boxes." Jace muttered, dragging a hand through his curls as he opened the trunk of the car, grabbing one of his boxes labelled weights, while Luke eagerly grabbed his own, black capital letters scrawled comic books across it.

"This... is actually kind of cool." Luke admitted as they walked into the house. There were two worn black leather sofas in the centre of the living room, red throws and cushions scattered across them. Mahogany shelves were pressed against the walls, decked with dragon ornaments, old leather bound books and various silverware. Guns were mounted on the walls, as well as two wooden stakes crossed over in an X shape above the mahogany dining table. It was cluttered with various other bric a brac, but it still held a sense of charm.

"I suppose," Jace murmured, walking upstairs to take his box up to his room.

"That's my room!" Luke yelled, pushing past Jace to get into the larger of the two guest rooms.

"I saw it first!" Jace protested.

"I got in the room first."

"I'll flip you for it," Jace said, placing the box on the floor.

"...Okay..." Luke mumbled, letting out a small shriek and Jace grabbed him, lifting him into the air and turning him upside down.

"Heads or tails, Luke?"

"Neither!" Luke yelled, elbowing his brother in the crotch and landing on the floor in a crumpled heap.

"You little shit!" Jace exclaimed, staggering downstairs after his younger brother.

"Mother! Help me! Someone help, there's a monster after me!" Luke cried out, sliding open the door to the kitchen and running inside, Jace right on his trail.

Luke smirked at his brother, opening the door to the fridge so Jace ran right into it. The older boy let out a small groan, grabbing ahold of Luke and pulling him into a headlock.

"You're gonna pay for that, you little-"

"Rules!"

Both Jace and Luke jumped slightly at the voice, turning to see Viserys standing in the kitchen doorway, those pale eyes of his twinkling in the fading sunlight.

"I have some rules around here," The old man continued, reopening the fridge and pointing to a shelf labelled Old Fart. "This shelf is mine. I keep my Iron Island beer and double stuff oreos in here. Don't touch my shelf."

Jace and Luke shared a look, the latter twirling his index finger around his temple.

Crazy.

Jace nodded, returning his attention back to where their grandfather was now pointing outside to a fenced off field.

"Second rule," He continued. "You can go anywhere except for my special field."

Luke shot Jace a confused glance, mouthing the words 'Special Field?'. Jace raised his first two fingers to his lips in a smoking gesture, making his expression clear in realisation.

"Third rule," Viserys slammed his cane down on the ground to get his grandsons' attention as he led them into the living room. "Every Wednesday the mailman brings the tv guide. Sometimes the corner of the address label's curled up. Don't rip it off. It'll rip the cover and I don't like that. Rule four, don't go exploring the caves and stuff round these parts. It'll kill you. And don't join gangs." He hobbled over to a locked door. "Final rule, stay out of here." He added, unlocking the door and opening it ajar before stepping inside, closing it again behind him.

"Well... should be fun living here." Luke murmured, his gaze travelling to the stairs. Before he could make a break for it to steal the larger room, however, Jace grabbed him, pulling him back and digging around in his pockets for a coin.

"Heads or tails?" He asked, letting go of Luke for a second to flip the coin into the air and catching it in his palm with ease, turning it on the back of his hand, the other concealing it from sight.

"Heads! No, tails. No, heads? Actually-"

"Pick. One."

"Tails?"

Jace removed his hand, his lips quirking up into a triumphant smirk at the dragon head staring up at him.

"Fine," Luke sighed in defeat, before spinning on his heel and charging upstairs. Jace yanked him back by his shirt, throwing himself into his own bedroom and slamming the door shut, pushing Luke out of the doorway.

Jace exhaled, picking his box off the floor and placing it down on his bed, adorned with what was most likely a hand sewn quilt of scarlet and ebony. He stood there, enjoying the fleeting moment of silence after having to deal with Luke in the car for the past seven hours.

Unfortunately, it was fleeting, and soon enough Jace heard a hurried knock on the door.

"Jace!"

"What now, Luke?" Jace pulled the door open, glaring at his brother.

"Grandpa doesn't own a tv. He owns a tv guide and yet he doesn't. Own. A tv. And this place has no mall, no proper cinemas... no MTV..."

"You'll have to survive on comic books then. There might be one in town," Jace sighed in response.

"I don't think that'll be enough-"

"Well what do you want me to do about that, huh?" Jace suddenly exclaimed. "You want me to drive you back to King's Landing? And do what? Leave you there on the street? Or maybe all the way to the other side of the country where dad had to move?"

"I... no I..."

"Just go and unpack," Jace sighed, pushing past his younger brother to go back downstairs. "The sooner you unpack, the sooner you can go down to that amusement park you've been babbling about."

"So, are you boys going to check out that amusement park tonight?" Rhaenyra asked as she wiped dry the plate Luke had given her with a red checked dish cloth.

"I guess," Jace murmured, picking up another dirty dish to wash.

"Um, you promised you would take me," Luke pointed out.

"Your grandfather tells me there's a concert on. Some... rock band I believe. Perhaps you'll enjoy that Jace."

"Maybe."

Rhaenyra sighed, giving up her attempt to engage in conversation with her son, instead drying a hand to turn up the volume on the old stereo sat on the windowsill.

"Remember this one?" She asked softly. "We used to dance to it all the time."

"Yeah," Luke smiled, quickly drying his hands to take Rhaenyra's, allowing her to pull him to the centre of the kitchen to dance. Jace kept his gaze focused on the dish he was washing as Luke twirled Rhaenyra around, the both of them laughing.

He glanced in their direction to see Rhaenyra beckoning him over, but he just turned away again, cheeks flushed slightly in mild embarrassment as he dried the last dish, wiping his hands clean.

"Come on Luke," He sighed. "Let's get going." He muttered, walking out pf the kitchen to grab his jacket, ignoring the hurt look Rhaenyra sent his way.

Jace pulled on his shoes and shrugged on the leather jacket his father had gifted him, patting its pockets for his motorcycle keys.

"Luke! Let's go!" He called out, already walking out the door to where his motorcycle was parked against the porch, gleaming a blood red in the dim porch light buzzing overhead.

"I thought we were taking the car," Luke wined as Jace swung his leg over to sit on the bike.

"We can take Vermax... or you can walk," Jace replied.

With a slight huff, Luke reluctantly climbed onto the bike behind his brother.

"Hold on."

"I'm fine, I do not need to- shit!" Luke immediately grabbed his brothers jacket as he revved the bike's engine, the tires squealing slightly as he drove away from the manor.

"So, where do you want to start?" Jace asked as they made their way along the boardwalk.

"Amusement park. Then maybe that comic book store we passed," Luke replied.

"Great, have fun."

"Wait! Where are you going?" Luke grabbed his brother's arm.

"To the concert," Jace replied, shrugging his brother off. "I'll meet you back here in a couple of hours."

"B-but..." Luke glanced around. "Fine..." He sighed, walking away in the opposite direction to his brother.

The music practically vibrated from the makeshift stage at the base of a small grassy hill as Jace navigated his way through the swarming crowd of various goths, punks and druggies, his hands rooted firmly in his jacket pockets.

He ascended the hill, turning to look at the crowds swarming around the stage. Broken bottles of vodka and beer littered the ground, the faint scent of weed lingering in the air. The people around him were swaying from intoxication, passed out of the ground or dancing to the music, swarming around the stage.

He felt himself stand up slightly straighter as he laid eyes a pair on the outskirts of the crowd. There was a young boy, no older than ten maybe, with long white hair reaching down to his shoulders and bright violet eyes. He had a stone faced expression, and was deathly pale, clad in a black band tee, ripped black jeans and a grey jacket.

But it was who the young boy was with that piqued his interest.

It was you.

He watched as the boy led you through the crowds, his hand tightly holding yours. You were dressed in a white puff sleeved summer dress that fluttered in the breeze, the skirt coming midway down your thigh. It had a sweetheart shaped neckline that exposed a hint of your cleavage. On your feet were a pair of white wedge sandals. A pair of dainty ruby earrings hung from your ears, and your hair was loose.

You were stunning.

A vision.

Despite the sea of people cheering to the concert, Jace only saw you.

He felt his cheeks heat up slightly as your gaze met his, his staring having been discovered. He broke out of his trance enough to give you a small smile. Your eyes crinkled slightly, the corner of your lips twitching in a fleeting glimmer of a smile that soon faded as the boy pulled you further into the crowd.

As though hypnotised by you, Jace felt himself step forward, and then another, soon following you into the swarm of swaying people.

He felt his pace quicken as he found himself in the harsh lights of the fair ground. He strained to spot you through the bustling crowds, cheers and screams of joy ringing in the air, the scent of cotton candy and popcorn lingering in the air. It was as though you had vanished in thin air.

"Jace?"

A hand clamped down on his shoulder, and Jace jumped, spinning to see Luke standing behind him, half eaten cotton candy clutched in one hand.

"Are you okay?" Luke asked.

Jace opened his mouth to reply, but a flash of white out of the corner of his eye had him grab Luke's sleeve and drag you in your direction.

"Jace, what the- where in seven hells are we going?"

"Nowhere," Jace muttered. "Just stay quiet."

"Well we're obviously going somewhere," Luke mumbled, struggling to keep up with his brother's brisk pace, his gaze locking onto your retreating figure. "Are you following that girl? Jace, are you stalking-"

"If you're not going to shut up, you can go somewhere else." Jace snapped, releasing his grip on his younger brother.

Luke looked across the street where turquoise neon lighting was flickering the words 'Great Second Hand Book Store'.

"Actually, I do."

"Fine, see you later," Jace called over his shoulder, not paying attention to his younger brother, too entranced by you to focus on anything or anyone else.

Jace kept a safe distance between you and him as he followed you, close enough to keep you in sight and far away enough for it not to look... suspicious.

He came skidding to a stop as you suddenly turned to face him, your hand still clasped in the young boys.

"Are you following me?" You asked, your voice quiet but with a sharp edge to it, your gaze burning into his.

"W-well... well I..."

"Did you need something?" You prompted, raising an eyebrow. "Do you have something you want to say?"

"Uh... well yeah..."

"Then talk."

"I just... I just wanted to... to say..."

"Jace! Mum's here so I'm going home with her. She told me to tell you that you need to be home before grandpa locks the house up at midnight."

Jace hung his head as Luke tugged on his sleeve. "Okay, Luke. I'll see you later," He muttered.

"Okay. Here, look!" Luke suddenly pushed a comic book into Jace's hands. "I got a new one."

"That's... that's really great..." Jace replied, pushing Luke's hand away. "You'll have to tell me about it later."

Luke nodded, glancing over at you and the young boy. You had your gaze focused on Jace, eyes glittering in amusement. Your companion, however, had his gaze focused intently on the comic book in Luke's hands. Almost protectively, he held the book closer towards his chest, an action you seemed to notice. You let out a soft chuckle.

"Don't mind him. Maelor's just a big fan of... vampires..." You said, voice faltering slightly towards the end. Maelor simply squeezed your hand lightly in response, tugging at your sleeve lightly. "Nice talking to you." You murmured to Jace before Maelor pulled you away from the two brothers, leading you down the street.

"Oh... did I interrupt something?" Luke asked, grinning at his brother who shot him a small glare.

"Jace? Luke? There you are," Rhaenyra breathed, rounding the corner, "What's taking you so long? Now, come on, we're going-"

"I'm staying. I'll be home later. Before midnight, I promise." Jace said, already hurrying off in the direction you went, fainty hearing Luke snicker to Rhaenyra "He met a girl."

Jace rounded the corner, his smile fading as he caught sight of you, surrounded by four boys all on motor cycles.

One of the boys, the leader he assumed given he had the largest motorcycle and was at the front of the pack, turned to look at Jace. He had long silver hair tied up in a bun, one eye a vivid blue and the other a cloudy white. He was clad entirely in black leather, resting forward against his bike. His lip quirked upwards into a small smirk as he laid his eyes on Jace, tilting his head to the side as he looked him up and down. Upon deeming he wasn't a threat, he sat properly upwards on his bike, also black, hands resting on the hand grip, the three other boys following suite.

Maelor, the young boy you were with, had clambered onto the silver bike of another boy, with long brown hair tied half up, a graze of stubble dotting his face. He looked tall, and was certainly more physically imposing than the first guy, but he didn't have that same coldness in those storm grey eyes of his. He shot Jace a lazy smile as Maelor wrapped his arms around his middle, starting up his bike.

Jace's gaze then settled on the boy that was nearest to you, perched upon a gleaming gold bike, a rolled up joint hanging from his lips and a hand firmly planted on your waist in a way that made Jace's fists clench. He, like the supposed leader of the gang, had platinum hair, although it was shorter and slightly more dishevelled than the former's. Two small gold hoop earrings gleamed in his ear, and he had a slightly glossed over look in his eyes.

The effect of whatever he was smoking, no doubt.

The fourth boy seemed slightly younger than the others, maybe around Luke's age, with curly platinum hair and a cheeky smile on his face as he revved his cobalt and emerald bike.

The first boy turned to you, tilting his head in a gesture that said come here, and you immediately tore yourself away from the one perched gold bike to sit behind the leader, your arms wrapping tightly around his middle and your chin resting on his shoulder.

The four bikes roared as they spun a circle around Jace before speeding down the boardwalk, and the last thing Jace saw before they disappeared into the night was the small flash of a smile you sent his way.

Masterlist

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader #spooktober #house of the dragon au #Aemond targaryen #Aemond targaryen x reader #Aemond targaryen imagine #Aegon Targaryen #Aegon Targaryen x reader #Aegon Targaryen imagine #Jacaerys Velaryon x reader #Jacaerys Velaryon #Jacaerys Velaryon imagine #Cregan Stark #Cregan Stark imagine #Cregan Stark x reader

392 notes · View notes

lovelybeesthings · 10 months

Text

Bad idea right..?

Coriolanus Snow x fem reader

warnings: Smut I try okay😭

Word count: 2.3k

Context: Au where it's in a normal college no Hunger Games.

At Pilth College, it was known that Y/n L/n and Coriolanus Snow were in a on and off relationship and if you tried to get between the two you’d only get your feelings hurt, the two were made for each other but they had their problems.

Coriolanus was a jealous monster, While y/n was too oblivious sometimes they’d break up because y/n felt suffocated by Coriolanus's love and he’d state how she let guys hit on her on purpose just to make him mad which wasn’t true.

Both were gifted with looks like hand-crafted marble sculptures made for one another, though as much as Y/n tried to find someone else to be in a romantic relationship none could compare to the way Coriolanus loved her and ended up always going back to him.

As word of Sejanus throwing a house party since parents were leaving for the weekend to go to Italy. Everyone was invited and her friend's group was planning to go Coriolanus was attending since he was Sejanus's close friend, they had just broken up again this time much messier, and Y/n's friends were encouraging her to dip her toe on the dating scene.

Y/n was near finishing getting ready. She had already finished her makeup her hair was straightened and her outfit was a black mini skirt, paired with black stockings and black boots, her top was a black tank top, pulled off with a navy blue Jean denim jacket and some jewelry. Once her Lyft got to the house she was done and headed out out.

As Y/n gets out of the car she enters the party she sees her friends immediately and a smile spreads on her face “There’s the infamous Y/n” her friends joke as she bows and all together they laugh.

After a while y/n goes to the kitchen to get a drink holding the red cup in her hands, just as Sejanus walks threw his whole house and spots y/n and quickly sneaks his way to Coriolanus who was standing in a corner siping his drink from the red plastic cup not interested in anything bored.

“Coryo guess what!” Sejanus says trying to play with Him but Coriolanus just raises his eyebrow in response “Y/n is here at the party and is redeeming her cup in the kitchen and is alone” he says smiling telling his friend.

Catching the ears of Coriolanus and in the blink of an eye, he leaves to go find Y/n in the kitchen chugging what's left of his drink to have. A proper excuse to be there and stand next to Y/n “Hey missed me?” he says towering over her smirking seeing how good she looks right now she turns her head and gives him a sweet smile “I did what have you been up to Snowball?” she says.

After a while of catching up, the conversation changes to flirting as Y/ns friends start to look for her becoming worried about why she hasn't come back one of her friends spots her on the counter eyes locked in Coriolanus’s her ex of all people.

“Y/n L/n get your ass over here!” her friend call out for her firmly as a parent would to their child who doesn't know better “I have to go now nice talking to you again croyo”

Y/n soon walks off with her friend being lectured by the rest of the friend group for what feels like 10 minutes telling her she shouldn't be trying to get back with Coriolanus “Yes I know he's my ex but can't two people connect! He was telling me how he's trying to change” she says trying to plead as they shake their heads in disapproval.

“You were practically drooling over him and didn't He say that last time to you last time you broke up?” her friend says not impressed “he's just trying to be my friend and then maybe more…” Y/n says the last part under breath.

“Well, I'm gonna go home tired and don't think I'd like to be hungover in the morning,” Y/n says to her friends as she enters the Lyft dropping her home.

I haven't changed clothes yet and just lay in bed phone in my hands watching TikToks to cure my boredom as I get a message “Wanna come over 💗” from the contact name “Goldy locks Snowball” I bite my lip thinking if I should be logical “whatever its fine” I think as I sent him a text back a thumbs up with a kissing emoji.

I head out with my Keys driving to his apartment complex I knock on his doot on the second floor he opens the door standing and smiling at me as I try to think if I should leave last second but my mind is fuzzy seeing him look so sexy in that wife beater and his blond long curls in this light.

I smile pushing him inside take off my shoes and lock the door as his lips crash onto mine pushing me against the wall my legs wrapping around his abdomen as our tongues explore each other and my hands reach his blond curly locks.

“Someone sure did miss me,” he says smirking “Shush goldilocks take me to the bed!” I say using one of my many nicknames for him and grunt horny as he takes us to his bedroom as we take off our clothes until we're both bare naked.

Coriolanus eyes are attached to your round juicy breast as he presses his lips against my nipple, his teeth moving along the peaked bud. He extended his hand to grip and tickle my other breast, not wanting to leave one neglected.

I moaned loudly into the room as he lifted his hand to grasp and amuse my other breast, moving between the two, not wanting to leave one ignored.

"God dam it," he moaned as he continued away. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." he says in between his kisses on my breast and the licks causing me to whimper.

I want to return the favor so I started handing at his covered cock with my hands. Coryo closed his eyes and pushed himself closer to my grasp. I had a strong desire to show him how much I missed him while enjoying the way I was making him feel.

he released every last drop of his cum into my mouth as he pulled out his face ridden with blush “You look so beautiful right now” he says breathing rapidly.

He wasted no time and began inching his way into me. He rocked himself into me, grunting. “Coryo!” I moan to the feeling tears slipping out

"Shit." He whimpered "You're fucking tense. Just rest out for me, hmm, love? You're doing wonderfully well "You're a good girl, my dear."

Desperate to feel his fingers burying into my hips, his nails grazing my skin, and his lips bruising my flesh as he fucked so passionately “I'm close so- close!” I moan out.

I cum on his cock as his hot seed fills me as he collapsed above me, his eyes closed, his forehead resting against yours "It's okay, I'm on the pill" I say as I try to breathe as we lay under his covers.

I'm now staring at the roof of his bedroom his arm over me tucking his head into my shoulder and falling into sleep as I think “Was this a bad idea?” I turn my head and close my eyes letting myself feel the love in the moment.

#coriolanus snow x reader #reader #coriolanus snow #fanfic #tom blyth x resder #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #smut #tom blyth #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus x reader

267 notes · View notes

miheartsedthings · 7 months

Text

(And a hopeful rhythm broke within him)

Glory

(You are required by law to listen to this song while you read this)

Just a little post StarCourt fluff

Billy Hargrove stands in the summer sun flooding your porch, his arm leaning against the frame. Steve, Nancy, and Robin are waiting in the car parked in the street. He’s looking at you, so determined but of what you have no idea. His cool blue eyes take stock of your face and then flick away as he glances over his shoulder at the car.

“You got this,” Robin shouts, and is then elbowed by Steve.

Billy makes a face as he turns back to you, one of aggravation and impatience. Though not with you, but with himself. It’s simple, this thing he’s come to do. One of many stops on his way to turning himself around. It’s been months since StarCourt, the day which had effectively electroshocked his nervous system, opening his eyes to the larger evils of the world. He knew now that he didn’t want to be part of them ever again. But the road to a better self was full of obstacles, internal and external.

This one he’d been putting off, but summer was nearly over and you’d be moving into the dorms soon. It was now or never.

“You okay?” You ask, stepping onto the porch.

He backs up to give you space and you drag the door closed behind you. This is only the second time Billy has spoken directly to you, the first being the day you recited a poem at the senior assembly, afterwards in the hall you’d bumped into him and he’d scowled at you.

“Good job up there, I’ve never felt so many of my brain cells fry up all at once.”

Those words burned, and stuck with you for many reasons, not least of all was that despite yourself, you had a thing for Billy. Not his rudeness or his boorish party games, but him. For some reason you liked him, you could love him, given the chance.

Now he’s on your porch, and his eyes are full of a question and he’s hesitating to say something.

“Look. Sorry about that day.” he says, his brows pushed together in a frustrated glare. “The thing you read was nice I just…yeah, sorry.”

You smile.

“I can’t believe you’re apologizing.” You say. “What’s come over you?”

“A lotta shit happened.”

You nod a little, and stand there watching him watch you, and your brows raise.

“Is that it?”

He huffs, grinning a little, shaking his head because he can’t believe he’s nervous.

“Come out with me.”

You blink twice, a flutter of surprise dropping you back a step.

“E-excuse me?”

He chuckles, shifting around, beautiful as ever in his denim jacket.

“You’re gonna make me say it again?” His eyes land on yours, and that charming grin spreads farther. His heart is beating so fast because…he really likes you. He's always liked you. A cool breeze sweeps across the porch, reminding you of autumn’s quick approach.

“Maybe.”

He looks at you, and his grin erupts into a full blown smile. You’ve never seen Billy smile like that and you didn’t know it’d be so lovely.

“Tease,” he laughs. “C’mon.”

You’re full of warmth. Your life full of welcome changes. You weren’t expecting this, but you can’t say no.

“Alright,” you say, and watch his smile fade a little, his eyes softening with the realization that you’ve said yes. You actually said yes. “I’ll go out with you Billy Hargrove, but you better be nice to me.”

His smile spreads again.

“Yeah, darlin, I’ll try.”

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things #fanfic #billy hargrove imagine #billy stranger things #billy hargrove fluff

193 notes · View notes

anjee0 · 12 days

Text

My brother's best friend

Chapter 1 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

B Rabbit x Female!reader. (Feel free to put an oc insert if you wish as well)

Description - In which Y/n starts to become friends and possibly more with her brother's best friend, BRabbit.

Warnings - Throughout the series there will be: Mild swearing, Smut, Mentions of drugs and alcohol. (More warning to come throughout the series)

Y/n laid on her bed, flipping through her vogue magazine. She admired the beauty of models, hoping that maybe one day she could be displayed in it too. It was her dream for as long as she could remember. Everyday, when she was younger, she'd sit in front of her TV, watching models on the runway as her mum braided her hair. She missed her mum, the way she was so sweet and loving with her and her brother, the way she was supportive of her daughter's dream. Y/n missed every part of her. Her dad left when she was only two, so she never knew him well.

Suddenly, the telephone down the hall started ringing. She knew her brother Jordan wouldn't pick it up. He was downstairs drinking and smoking weed with his friends. It made Y/n irritated, she was the one who had to clean up after their mess. Whenever she asked Jordan to change the hangout place, he simply refused saying that their house was the resigned hangout place.

Y/n picked up the phone and put it to her ear.

“Hello, Y/n speaking.”

“Hey girl!” A cheery feminine voice called through the phone. It was Carly, Y/n's best friend since middle school.

“Hey Carly, you okay babe?”

“Girl, get ready, we're going out!”

“Now, where?”

“Chin Tiki, I know you're stuck at home with your brother and his dumb friends.”

“Yeah, I am, the house stinks of weed.”

“Well hurry up and meet me at Chin Tiki before your brother makes you clean the house again.”

“Okay, okay, I'll see you. Bye.”

Y/n hung up the phone and ran to her room to get ready quickly. She decided to wear a mid thigh dark blue denim skirt with a simple top. She did her hair and makeup and threw on her favourite heels.

She went downstairs, walking past her brothers and his friends.

“Hey, where are you going?” Jordan asked.

“Out.” Y/n responded, eager to leave the house.

“I can see that, where are you going?”

“Chin Tiki. With Carly. I'll be back soon.”

“Well, we're about to leave for Chin Tiki too. Can you clean the living room?”

“No, you and your friends can clean. It's your mess, not mine.”

“Damn Jordan, your sister's finally started to talk back.” Future said.

The guys all laughed at Future's remark. She glared at him. She was never really fond of Future, or any of her brother's friends to be exact.

“I don't care Jordan, I'm not cleaning.”

Jordan slowly started getting out his seat and heading towards the front door. “Too bad, because we're already leaving.”

His friends followed him out the door quickly, also eager to get out. Y/n groaned, muttering something under her breath as she picked up the empty beer cans.

“Hey do you need any help?” A voice asked.

Y/n looked up and saw one of Jordan's friends, standing by the door awkwardly. He was wearing a dark blue beanie and dark baggy clothes.

“Oh, it's fine. Don't worry. You can get going.”

“Nah, it's fine. I'll help.”

He started picking up the empty cans on the floor and throwing them into the bin.

“Uh, Jimmy, right?” Y/n asked.

“That's me, but people call me Rabbit. You're Y/n, right?”

She nodded. “Thanks again… you didn't need to help.”

“It's fine. Like you said, it's our mess. Not yours.”

“Thank you.”

They finished cleaning up and left the house.

“Do you need a ride? We're getting in Future's car, we can budge up for you.” Rabbit asked.

“I'll be fine. I've walked to the bar by myself at night many times and made it in one piece.” She smiled.

He chuckled. “Alright then.”

Y/n eventually made it to Chin Tiki, where she saw Carly. Radiant and beautiful as always. She hugged her tightly before they ordered a few drinks and took their seats.

“Hey isn't that Jordan and his friends?” Carly asked. She nodded over to the table where Jordan and his friends were sitting with a few girls.

Y/n turned to look, herself. “Oh yeah.” She saw Rabbit sitting at the table looking unfazed as he sipped his water.

“Who caught your eye?” Carly asked.

“Hm?” Y/n asked.

“You were staring at one of your brother's friends. Who?”

“No one.”

Carly nudged her friend’s arm. “Stop lying.”

“I'm not lying!” Y/n chuckled.

“You're doing that thing with your eyebrows when you lie. Tell me the truth.”

“Okay, there's this one guy-”

“I knew it!”

“I don't like him like that. He just helped me clean the living room instead of letting me suffer in silence.”

“Well that's sweet of him. And what am I talking about, you don't need to focus on guys right now. You've got a modelling career lined up for you.”

Y/n chuckled. “Thanks girl. Should we head out after a few minutes?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Around 30 minutes later, the girls both left the bar and went outside through the back where the car park was. Whilst walking, they both spotted Rabbit sitting on the hood of the car listening to music on his headphones.

“I know you don't like him like that, but just go to him. What's the harm?” Carly said.

“Okay. I'll just say hi and come back.” Y/n replied.

She approached Rabbit and sat next to him on the hood. He took off his headphones and smiled at her softly.

“What brings you here?” He asked.

“Just wanted to say hi.” She replied. “What are you listening to?”

“Oh, uh. Just some rap.”

“Cool. Do you also wanna be a rapper like everyone else here?”

“Yeah, matter of fact, I do. You?”

“I wanna be a model.”

“Yeah? That's cool I guess.”

“Mhm. I haven't been able to find many places for me to apply yet. So I'm just stuck working at some small diner.”

“I've got a demo with my guy Wink lined up. He's gonna help me. I rap at the shelter too, but last night didn't go too well though. I uh-”

“I know. My brother told me. Which is surprising, he never tells me anything.”

“Why's that?”

“Well-”

“What are you two up to?” A voice interrupted.

Y/n looked up and saw Jordan with his friends, also accompanied by another guy who she recognised as Wink.

She quickly got off the hood of the car as her brother and his friends approached closer.

“What are you doing?” Jordan asked.

“Just talking to him.” Y/n replied.

“Hey Rabbit, we're all going over to my house right now.” Wink said.

“What about your mum? Is she not home?” Rabbit asked.

“Nah. She's working nights now.” Wink smiled at me. “You can come too if you want.”

“Absolutely not.” Jordan butted in. “She's got work tomorrow.”

“Man, we all got work tomorrow, just let her have it.” Wink replied.

“Fine.”

“Can Carly come too?” Y/n asked.

“The more the merrier.” Wink replied.

Y/n thanked him before going to get Carly. She was quick to say yes, she was always up to go anywhere as long as her friend was always with her.

“Is it okay if you guys can give us a ride?” Y/n asked the guys.

They were bunched up in the car like sardines in a can. They were all laughing together about whatnot and having a blast.

“So why do they call you Rabbit?” Y/n asked.

“Cause he's fast and likes to fuck a lot.” Future laughed.

Everyone laughed at Future's response.

“All jokes aside, he's super talented. He's rapping next week at the shelter on Friday if you wanna see him ladies.” Future said.

“Maybe I'll come watch if I have time.” Y/n responded.

They eventually reached Wink's house and got out of the car quickly, feeling a quick relief of air after being crowded in the car.

Y/n and Carly walked with Wink as he led them to his house, the boys were trailing behind.

“Man, I can't rap next week. I have work.” Rabbit told Future.

“You'll go if she's there.” Future responded hinting to Y/n. He made sure he was quiet so Jordan couldn't hear.

“She's cute, but I don't like her like that. I don't think she's interested in me either. Plus, I think I wanna have a break from dating after Janeane.”

“Alright, fair enough. But try coming next week, okay? Forget last night. You're gonna do great.”

Everyone was having a good time at Wink's place. Y/n and Carly danced together and laughed with each other, it felt good for her to feel free for a while and not feel this immense weight on her shoulders.

Meanwhile Rabbit, Jordan and Future were lounging on the couch, taking a rest.

“Fucking Wink, man.” Future replied. “I hate him. Tryna act like the big guy around here.”

“Me too. Are you sure about this free demo thing with Wink, Rabbit?” Jordan asked.

“Yeah. He's gonna help me out, guys. What's the big deal?”

“Free comes with dick up your ass.”

Meanwhile, Iz started complaining about something to Cheddar and a few girls.

“Another example of people's needs being denied by the city. I don't understand why the media's not all over it. Matter of time before it all happens again and the city won't care.” Iz complained.

“What the fuck is he talking about?” Rabbit asked.

Cheddar turned to face Rabbit. “That abandoned house where that little girl got raped.”

“It's what you call an “Attractive Nuisance.” Iz said. “If that house was on the other side of 8 mile, it wouldn't still be standing.”

“It could've been Lily, Rabbit.” Cheddar said.

Rabbit glanced over at Future and Jordan. Then at Sol who was across the room. They all gave each other a knowing smirk.

“Burn this shit to the ground!” Future whooped as he poured gasoline over the abandoned house.

Y/n and Carly were outside by the car, talking to Jordan.

“Can we come too?” Y/n asked.

“Hell no! It is too dangerous for you and Carly. You two can stay out here.”

“We're not babies Jordan.”

“Be grateful I even let you be here. Otherwise, I would've sent you home.”

“And aren't you going?” Y/n retaliated.

“Yeah but it's fine for me.” Jordan replied before grabbing a can of gasoline and making his way to the house.

“He's so annoying.” Y/n said.

“He's just trying to protect you.” Carly said. “It's cute.”

Y/n gave Carly a look. “You gonna go after my brother now?”

“No, I was just saying it's sweet of him. Plus, I think Wink's pretty cute. He was looking at me earlier.”

“Well then go shoot your shot. Look, he's just standing there. Go!” Y/n nudged Carly forward.

“Okay, I'm going!” Carly chuckled as she went over to Wink and started making a conversation with him.

A minute or two passed when all of a sudden, the house erupted into flames. It was a blazing firestorm, brightening the dark night sky.

Rabbit appeared from the back and saw Y/n leaning against the car as she admired the burning house. He approached her with a soft smile.

“It's almost beautiful, isn't it?” Y/n asked.

“Yeah. Piece of shit should burn to the ground.” Rabbit replied.

Y/n chuckled. “I wanted to go in. My stupid brother wouldn't let me.”

“He's just trying to make sure you're safe.”

“Yeah, but sometimes it's annoying. He has to make sure he knows what I'm doing all the time. You know how earlier at Chin Tiki I said that he never tells me anything anymore? Well ever since mum died, he's just been so different. He's so secretive and moody but he can't let me be secretive.”

“I get that it can be annoying but, he's doing it because he doesn't wanna lose you too.”

“How do you know that?”

“He told me.”

“He did?”

“He said to me one night when we went out that he wanted to make sure you lived a good life. He said he knew he was being strict but he told me did it because he didn't want to lose you. You guys only have each other.”

“I guess…”

“And sometimes Future says something about you. Like he'll say you're hot and that he wants you and then Jordan gets absolutely pissed. If we weren't there to hold him back, Future would've been a dead man.”

Y/n chuckled. “That sounds like him. You got any siblings?”

“I've got a little sister at home. Lily. She's 7. I'd do anything for her. I love her so much.”

Y/n smiled at Rabbit's caring demeanour for his sister. She noticed how his voice softened when he talked about her, it made her feel content herself.

Sooner or later, everybody got home, managing to escape from the cops just in time.

Y/n and Jordan got home and immediately got hit with the stench of the weed that still lingered in the house.

“Did you not use Air freshener?” Jordan asked.

“I did. Didn't have much time.” Y/n responded.

“Right…” Jordan replied.

“Look, if you don't want the house to be messy and smell then just change the hangout place!”

“You know what? Fine. I'll ask. Only because you weren't so annoying today.

Y/n scoffed as retreated to her room and got changed out of her clothes. She was starting to consider that what Rabbit said about Jordan might've been a lie just to make her feel better.

#eminem #eminem x reader #marshall mathers #marshall mathers x reader #slim shady #slim shady x reader #8 mile #b rabbit #b rabbit x reader #jimmy smith jr #jimmy smith jr x reader #x reader

57 notes · View notes

billk4ulitzsecretlvr · 3 months

Note

could you maybe write a threesome with Bill and Tom and their girl best friend (they're all like childhood best friends) who's still a virgin? They're messing around one day and one thing leads to the other but they're telling each other it's not wrong cause it doesn't mean anything ... obviously that's a lie but they're all enjoying it way too much to stop. please please

A/N ☆ : I've never actually written a threesome fic before so please forgive me if I over use names / pronouns or focus too much on one character and not the other !

☆ This fic contains : p in v , threeway , brothers ?? Technically , y/n , oral play ( m and f ) , spit , bbrief edging ( ? )

.•.☆Nothing To Me ☆.•.

☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.

The twins. Always the boys that were your best friends, always each other's best friends. It was your guys' small group, not that there'd ever need to be anybody else.

You were invited over by the older of the two, Tom. The one with the mattlocks. They were long, always kept in a pony tail that was swallowed up by his flat brim and beanie combination. Blonde, brown, and dirty brown was the complection of colors in his hair.

He was always the more laid back one, easily relaxing and would much rather do so than to go out and party.. or hangout in large quantities of people.

But you? You were always an exception. For both of them, of course.

Tom had a younger brother, Bill. He was only younger by ten minutes, and god, he didn't disappoint when he grew up.

The boy was thin, fast metabolism helped towards keeping a slim figure. People often mistook him for a chick, seeing as his hair was long, reaching his shoulder blades. It was black, everything on him always had to be. He had subtle white streaks that weren't too frequent in his raven black mane,

Both of the boys had high cheek bones, thin faces that had similar qualities but still distinguishable. Bill had a more feminine face, whereas Tom was very obviously a dude.

Of course, all of this doesn't matter. You love them both equally and it wouldn't change anything if the roles were swapped between the two. They were both your favorite people, your rocks. It was the same for them.

"Y/n," Bill swatted his hand in front of your face, grabbing your attention.

He was wearing a black button up, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his thin arms. Sporting some leather bracelets, he had a white leather belt with many holes in it wrapped around his hips. His jeans were your average bootcut jeans , his hair styled up in that baffling lion like look, but a bit more relaxed.

"Sorry," you sighed, walking into the house as Bill shut the door behind you.

"Tom's in the bathroom," Bill mumbled as he lead you upstairs.

And of course, you guys were ought to hangout in Bill's room. "The coolest room in the house", per your opinion.

His walls were adorned with posters for all the bands he liked, overwhelming at first glance before you were able to fully grasp the artists and identify them. He had a vanity in the corner, his eyeshadow and eyeliner sprawled out across the wooden flat. It was black, of course.

Bill sat on his bed, sighing as he waited for Tom to join you guys. Eventually, he did. The slightly shorter (in comparison to Bill,) entered the room, shutting the door behind him.

"What's up, Y/n?" Tom smirked, fist bumping you as he sat on Bills bed, next to the boy. Bill curled himself into the corner against the headboard and the wall as he attempted to work the TV.

You smiled softly, gazing up at Tom. "Nothing new," you mumbled.

Tom looked just as good, as always. He had on a white oversized shirt, blue denim jeans to match the proportions. His beanie was black, topped with a white flat brim hat. He stole a couple glances at you, looking you up and down before averting his eyes to the TV.

"Give me the damn thing," Tom hissed, snatching the remote from Bill which only earned a sigh and eyeroll.

"Could you guys ever be nice to each other?" You giggled, sitting yourself on the floor.

Bill sat up, smirking softly between you and Tom as he took notice of you sitting on the floor.

"Get off the bed, jackass. Let y/n sit somewhere actually comfortable." Bill said, kicking Tom off.

A loud thud was heard as Tom fell onto the floor, slightly annoyed with Bill as the boy patted the bed to let you sit where Tom used to.

You giggled softly, rolling your eyes at their boyish ways. Nonetheless, you took the opportunity to steal Tom's spot and cuddle yourself into Bill's black bedset.

After some time, the boys were actually able to get the TV working. Bill had been wanting to watch a movie for quite a bit with you, seeing as twilight wasn't too bad in your opinion.. he wanted to try Cruel Intentions. Tom found it a load of bullshit, never really being interested in the weird romances you and Bill bonded so strongly over.. but Tom couldn't turn down a chance to hangout with you for a couple hours.

The movie had been on for awhile, finally reaching a point where one of the main characters were making out with the girl she was setting up for failure. You felt butterflies in your stomach, realizing as you had never even had your first time.

"Lesbians are not as hot as everyone makes it seem," Bill scoffed, earning a glare from Tom.

"Have you ever even watched normal porn, Bill? I feel like all you talk about is obscure fetishes," Tom just furrowed his eyebrows, the small argument had officially started.

"What exactly even is "normal porn" to you?" Bill returned, cocking his head.

"Like, I imagine you only think vanilla sex exists, Tom." Bill giggled. Tom just threw his hands up in defense, a bit embarrassed as he looked between you and Bill.

"No- not true! I've definitely watched some BDSM movies, it's just not my preference." Tom defended.

Bill scoffed, rolling his eyes before he looked towards you.

"What about you, y/n? What are you into?" Bill pestered, poking your wast teasingly.

It caused you to smile, blushing softly grabbing his hand to end his poking.

"I don't need porn to get off, freaks." You lied, trying to avoid the concept of really admitting you didn't know there were genres of porn. You had mostly just assumed it was either sex, or it wasn't. You didn't know all the small details, you couldn't distinguish vanilla from not vanilla. As far as you knew, you thought vanilla was a flavor. Not a type of sex.

Tom smirked, kneeling by the bed as he got closer to you.

"Yeah? Well how'd you get off on your first time. What'd the lucky guy do?" Tom asked, nudging you.

You hesitantly answered, "Y'know.. the usual." You mumbled. Bills eyes widened, hitting your shoulder softly.

"Y/n!" He growled, "You haven't had your first time!" He noted, sitting on his thighs as he looked down at you on the bed.

Tom smirked, "Cats outta the bag now, y/n." He said, crossing his arms.

You blushed profusely, "I have!" You lied, right though your teeth.

"Prove it." Tom hissed, poking your side as Bill giggled down at you, seeing straight through your fib.

"Prove it?" You scoffed, "How am I supposed to prove it?!" You asked, sitting up.

"Well.." Bill started, looking up and slightly off as he thought. "I dunno, tell us about it." He giggled.

Tom cocked an eyebrow, he knew you wouldn't be able to fabricate a believable story. You stalled a bit, trying to think of a way out of this as you stared between the twins.

"You could always lose it now. Your virginity, I mean." Tom said, causing you to blush. Bill side eyed Tom, biting his lower lip as he found a cruel amusement out of seeing you so nervous.

"Come on, it won't mean anything." Bill said, laying a hand on your thigh as he squeezed it softly. You had finally given up.

"I'm not choosing between you two." You stated, trying to wiggle your way out of it still.

"Who said you had to?" Tom replied, climbing onto the bed next to Bill, leaning closer to you.

You felt as your face flushed, feeling the close proximity of Toms face to yours, feeling as your lips softly connected. Bill just watched.

It won't mean anything, you repeated to yourself, amateurly returning the kiss with a shy demeanor.

Tom pushed you back on the bed, running a hand up your waist as he made out with you. Bill bit his lip, his eyes narrowing as he got a sort of.. tingly feeling from the scene in front of him. He wanted to join, he knew it'd just be easier.

Bill moved on the opposite side of you, finding a place on your neck he was free to nip at and mark up, hearing as the sounds between you and Tom's lips became moister, god it was driving him insane.

Tom squeezed your waist softly as he took notice of Bills presence, smirking softly through the kiss.

You arched your back softly, feeling the sweet feeling of Bill and Tom's mouths on you coincidingly. It was wet, but more than just their kisses were wet.

"Relax, jeez." Tom mumbled, kneeling on the bed off to the side of you. He trailed his veiny hands down, rubbing you softly through your jeans.

Bill giggled as he felt the vibrations of your vocal cords as you yelped quietly when Tom touched you, Bill took his hand and groped your breast softly.

You could feel all these sensations from the twins.. feeling their mouths, their hands.. god, and the worst part had to be that you didn't hate it. You didn't even dislike it, in fact.. you wanted more. You wanted to feel this more than anything, their hands were talented and obviously experienced.

Toms hand moved to grab your inner thigh though your low-rise jeans. He paused though, taking his lips off yours completely and looking at Bill. They seemed to both have had a striking thought, looking down at you and then to each other.

"Y/n, we're just helping you lose your virginity." Tom clarified down to you, you nodded.

"I know-.. " you quickly noted, looking up at the boys. . "I know."

Tom nodded, nudging Bill to continue. And they did, Tom moved down to kiss your stomach as Bill lightened his hand on your breast, understanding he might have been getting a bit excited.

You wrapped your hand around Bills boney back, rubbing it gently and slowly as you felt him run his slender fingers down your ribs. Tom smirked as he eyed up Bill nipping at you, rolling his eyes teasingly as Tom sat up.

He took in the sight with a eased look, registering that he was watching his brother in the process of trying to fuck their childhood best friend, and it had been the other way around for Bill. Either way, it was equally sexy for both boys and you.

Bill moved to kiss your lips, biting your bottom lip while he pushed his hand under your shirt, under your bra.

Tom ruffled Bill's hair, just watching as he worked on you.

"I never thought I'd see it," Tom said, crossing his arms.

Bill pulled off you, you looked at up at Tom with a slight embarrassed look.

"Tom, be normal." You scoffed, Bill just smirked.

"Hey, Whaddya say we get your top off?" Bill said, sitting up. He pulled needily at the hem of your shirt, nagging you to remove it. And by the looks of the small excitement in Tom's eyes, he was excited too.

You hesitantly pulled your top off, revealing your breasts lying comfortably in the black lace bra you dressed yourself in earlier. Toms eyes showed hunger, Bill's showed excitement.

The difference between the two. Bill was always excited, giddy like a child. Tom was much more serious, hungry and lustful when he could focus.

Tom leaned down slightly, kissing your collar bones as he moved lower..and lower, leaving soft love bites on your chest. Bill worked towards removing the bra all together. Once he did, his lips parted as both their eyes fixed on your full.. not exactly big but nowhere near small, chest.

"My, my." Tom purred, caressing the breast closest to him. He rubbed his thumb over your nipple, the soft skin and sensitive area.

Bill leaned his head down, nipping at the thin skin before brushing his tongue over the sensitive rosy nub, his tongue ring was warm against your nipple. It earned a quiet whimper to escape your lips, feeling the boys work at your chest.

You almost felt bad for your lack of doing, they seemed to overenjoy your body as you just sat there and took it.

You knotted your fingers in the back of Bills teased hair, rubbing your hand down his spine and pushing the dress shirt up a bit in the back to touch his warm exterior. Your other hand occupied itself by cupping toms cheek, kissing him gently as Bill left red bite marks along your chest.

Tom danced his fingers down to your jeans, dipping his middle and ring finger down into the denim and rubbing you through your panties.

Bill took notice of Toms fingers, almost a bit jealous.. but he'd never admit that. He laid a hand on your stomach as his eyes examined Tom's movement, his eyes meeting toms after a minute.

You moaned softly and tried to move against Tom's thick fingers, he felt the moist texture of your underwear as he looked between you and Bill. Tom's fingers slid up and down the thin fabric of your underwear, rubbing you gently and slowly. He was obviously getting a kick at your quiet and amateur breathy moans, biting his lip as before he leaned down to reconnect your lips.

Bill was having fun on his own, just watching and nearly drooling. The sight of his brother toying with his best friend was a questionable thing, but he couldn't deny that he liked it.

The boy quickly reminded himself that it was a one time thing, he and Tom were just helping you. Tom paused for a second after a couple minutes, looking up at the boy who was ogling at you two.

He caught Bills attention by mumbling his name, causing the boy to break the eye contact from his hand in your jeans and look up at the man.

"Do something, slacker." He hissed teasingly, Tom pulled his hand out of your jeans and gave Bill the okay to work on you himself.

Bill looked up at your eyes before down at the low-rise denim, unbuttoning them and sliding them down your pale thighs. He took a second to admire your lacey underwear, running his fingers over the material and flicking the little bow on the front.

Bill pulled the flares off and let them hangout at the end of the bed, kneeling between your legs while he left little kisses on the inside of your thighs, pushing the lace to the side to view your folds.

His eyes lit up, he looked like a child getting a gift on Christmas.

"Oh my," he observed your wetness.

taking no time before pushing his tongue against you, lapping eagerly at your clit before lowering his head and pushing his tongue into you. You felt the bead of Bills tongue ring enter you, arching your back as you whimpering at the boys play. You couldn't help yourself, moaning as you felt yourself get wetter against the boy.

Tom watched Bill as he eagerly went down on you, chuckling softly. He ruffled the boys hair, mumbling a 'someones excited ' before he looked back at you.

"We're not gonna do all the work, princess." He teased, mocking the use of the pet name.

Tom cupped your face as he unbuckled his belt. He groped himself through his boxers as he presented himself to you. His hand pulled himself through the slit in the boxers.

The man looked down at you as you gasped, mixed from surprise and also the way Bill's tongue was still sliding in and out of you. Your back arching and your face slightly twitching as the emo boy went down on you.

You felt as Tom opened your mouth, pushing himself in as he groaned quietly. The warmth of your mouth against his cock, feeling him softly move his hips back and forth as to pump his length in and out of your mouth.

You felt it hit the back of your throat a couple times, coughing a bit. You tried to bite back a moan while feeling the sensation of Bill hungrily eating you out, breathing heavily.

Bill didn't take long before pulling his head away, his chin soaked with your slick before he pulled your panties off completely, returning in his spot between your legs.

The overstimulation of both the boys each doing their own thing to you was pleasurable of course, but a little much.

Tom pulled his cock out of your mouth, grabbing his shaft and tapping the head against your lower lip as you looked up at him, your chest rising and falling quickly. You felt a small knot in your abdomen, Tom noticed as he saw the look on you face before knotting his hands in Bill's hair and pulling the boy off.

He looked at Tom with a pouty look but quickly put two and two together as to why Tom did so. His eyes flickered down to Tom's length, then down at your face.

The boy wiped his mouth of your wetness, leaning down to lay a kiss on your cheek.

"You're doing good," Bill cooed softly, petting your hair.

Tom rolled his eyes, chuckling down at the sight of Bill consoling you.

By now, you were the only fully nude person in the room. Feeling a little exposed, you looked between the boys.

"Are you guys.. gonna stay dressed?.. the whole Time?" You asked quietly, more like a pout.

Tom shook his head, slipping off his shirt and tossing his hat. His shirt coming off revealed a toned figure, slight definition in his abs but not over the top. He was muscular, your hand reached up to caress his v line.

"Acting like you've never seen me shirtless before," he commented, chuckling and crossing his arms.

As he chuckled, his cock slightly bounced when the rest of his body jumped. You were mesmerized, Bill watched too. He felt a little behind, thinking maybe he should have been as revealed as Tom was.. but also reassured himself it'd be fine.

You looked up at Bill, kinda wishing he'd do the same. He was the only one fully dressed, now making him the odd one out. Bill felt pressured by you and Tom's stares, hesitantly unbuttoning his button down. He kept it over his shoulders, his slim body now revealed. His hip bones boked out slightly, same with the bottom of his ribs. It was nothing major, just a thin boy.

You thought about the situation a little more, feeling a bit guilty that you were nude beneath both of your childhood best friends. But you reminded yourself that this wasn't wrong, it couldn't have been. They offered, and its not even like the twins gave you enough time to disagree. Not that you would, but it confused you a bit.

Would things be different after this?.. or would you guys just brush over it completely?

Tom scoffed at how little skin Bill showed, shy to even take his shirt off. Bill just scowled at the man's judging looks before he pulled the shirt down his arms and tossed it onto the floor.

You had to admit, it was a bit odd to see this as a whole. The twins, you, in bed. In bed. It wasn't something you thought would ever happen, moreso a drunk thought or even a wet dream. You'd be lying if you said it wasn't something you thought about once or twice.

You felt as Tom pressed his tip back against your lips, shyly licking at the head before taking it back into your mouth. Your hand found its way to Bills belt, tugging at the material as he unbuckled it and was slightly shocked at your initiative to jerk him off. He felt as your thin and feminine fingers pulled his cock from his boxers and pumped your hand, feeling his excitement.

Bill watched as you sucked Tom off, feeling a little awkward for not knowing exactly what to do. Toms hand was buried in your hair, gripping it gently as you worked your mouth.

The boys looked up at each other, their eyes darting down to you before they closed a space between them, their lips shyly touching as you pleasured them both. The boys made out quietly through breathy moans which just fueled you even more.

Eventually, you took your mouth off of Tom and exchanged it for Bill, the teen quietly hissed at the sudden pleasure washing over him, he bit Tom's lower lip gently as he pulled away, looking down at you.

"Y/n.." he moaned softly, "You're doing so good." He softly praised, petting your hair.

Tom felt as your hand pumped his length before pulling away. He was hard, really hard.. and that much was obvious.

He pushed his boxers and jeans away, finally committed to this as Tom moved to position himself between your legs.

Sure, it was your first time.. but he would find a way to ease in without being too rough. He played with his head against your folds, rubbing it on your clit and between your lips before gently and slowly pushing in. You arched your back, parting your lips from Bill's length while keeping him in your hand as you looked down at Tom. You felt his hands on your thighs, he leaned down to kiss your neck softly before he pushed all the way in.

At first, all you felt was pressure.. it didn't feel that great, but after his first initial thrusts, you felt the enjoyment wash over you like a tsunami. You looked up at Bill as he watched Tom, averting his eyes back down to you as you gently took him back into your mouth.

See, the difference between the teens was that Tom was much more confident and initiative. Bill was shy, it was obvious they both had plenty of experience.. but they were vastly different at it, which threw you off only slightly. Tom was always ahead of Bill, it seemed like the emo boy only got nervous and forgot what he was doing Everytime he realized the situation.

He pushed the soft smile off his face replaced with a gentle lip bite as Bill cupped your face, rubbing his thumb over your cheek at a slow pace.

You were whimpering and moaning through the blowjob, feeling Tom thrust into you which pushed your body up and down on the bed every time.

Tom looked down at you, he could have finished just from the scene he was looking at but obviously he didn't. He heard as your guys' skin made small noises Everytime it clapped together when he pushed in, feeling your wetness moisten his cock was butterfly inducing, looking down and seeing the slight shine of the light glisten on your folds.. god, just seeing how wet you were in general.

"Soo good." He purred, squeezing your hips slightly.

"So wet.." he commented, his eye contact with your face quickly darted up to Bill, then down to the movement between you and him.

Tom watched as you sucked and lapped at Bills cock, biting his lower lip as he ingested the sight of you sucking his twin off.

Tom was half convinced this was wrong.. he was taking his best friends virginity with his brother and although the twins briefly made out, he couldn't help but feel slightly wrong about it.. but he quickly shoved into his mind that it was a one time thing.. but god, he didn't want it to be.

Tom felt butterflies in his stomach as he thrusted into your tightness, pulling out completely before pushing back in.

Then a thought struck him that would definitely be easier for you all.

He pulled out, tapping your thigh for you attention. You and Bill both looked up at the man, curious.

"Turn around, bend over." He instructed clearly.

Bill sat on his thighs while he waited, watching as you followed Tom's directions. The pose left you in doggy style with Tom, and Bill found a way to easily slide himself against the headboard under you.

You felt as Tom pushed back in, a little harder this time which earned a louder moan.

"Fuck -.." you hissed, your eyes rolled slightly as you felt him pick up the pace with thrusting.

The room was filled with your moans before Tom pushed your head down, holding your hip with the other as he forced you to retake Bills cock into your mouth. Which you complied, seeing the boy lay underneath you with ease. His hand topped Tom's as he pushed your head up and down.

Bill found more enjoyment this way, seeing your full face as your pink lips wrapped safely around his shaft. Bill looked up at Tom, leaning his head back against the headboard as he bit his lower lip with a dorky smile.

Bills eyes were occupied with how Tom got overly excited with your cunt, speeding his pace up before slowing it back down and doing that every so often.

You got used to the feeling a little bit, but When Tom sped up for a couple seconds, you felt it overwhelmingly as he nudged against your g-spot. You moaned through Bills cock in your mouth which just sent a vibration through him, causing he himself to even whimper softly which didn't go unnoticed by neither you nor Tom.

Bills back arched slightly off the bed as he pushed your head down a bit lower, his breathing a bit labored.

Tom and Bill made the contact, one of them taking it like a champ and the other almost folding and becoming the one making all the noise.

He watched Bill's facial expression as his lips parted, he bit his lips, his eyes narrowed.. all of it. Tom bit his own lower lips as his eyes flickered down to your cunt bouncing off his cock.

But Tom couldn't help but keep his eyes on Bills face, watching the boy pet your hair as he whispered praise, 'good job's, 'good girl ', 'youre doing so good '.

It almost made Tom feel bad for his silence but he just took it as a mental note to do better next time.

Tom was becoming needy, thrusting in deeper and deeper, harsher.. it caused you to completely fold, feeling the feeling in your stomach as you moved your head a bit faster on Bills length.

You felt as Tom pumped his cock in and out, hearing his breathy moans.

Before you knew it, you felt yourself tighten up before letting go, feeling yourself cum while you let out whimpers on Bills cock, causing him to also push over the edge.

"Y/n- oh my god -!" Bill yelped quietly.

Feeling the cum shoot and coat into your mouth was a specific feeling you couldn't describe, but seeing Bills face is what made you proud. The boys lips parted as his back arched, looking between you and Tom.

Tom was the last to let loose, but you felt his cock twitch in you and his speed increase rapidly, making you moan a bit more as you pulled off of Bill.

Toms pulled his cock out as he groaned, "Y/n, holy shit-.."

The semen being ejected into Bills bedset between your legs as he breathed harshly.

You felt as Tom pulled his hand off your head, out from under Bills. The movement was replaced by Bill pushing a couple strands of hair behind your ear. Tom kissed and nipped softly at the back of your neck eventually turning your head to lay a sloppy kiss on your lips.

"You're a woman now," He joked in a whisper, kissing you again quickly before watching you reposition yourself next to Bill against the headboard.

You stretched your body out, working out the kinks of staying in one position for so long.

Tom immediately grabbed for his boxers, slipping his jeans back on. Bill buttoned his lowrises before leaning towards end of the bed to yank up your undergarment set.

You slipped the thong and bra back on, watching as the twins dressed themselves.

"That was.." you started, you found it best not to finish your sentence.

You wanted to clarify nothing would change between you three. Well, between you and Tom, you and Bill. The twins were ought to work this out themselves, if this was even their first time doing something like it.

But at the same time, you wanted it to mean something.. but not really. You couldn't decide.

Bill had his shirt back on and immediately looked more comfortable with himself again, watching as Tom clothed himself. The baggy shirt and jeans once more hiding his beautiful body.

"You alright, y/n?" Bill asked, kissing your forehead like always.

You nodded, looking up at Bill.

"You did so good." Tom praised, squeezing your thigh gently as he sat down on the bed. Bill pulled his knees to his chest, eyeing up the cum stain on the bed. He scoffed, rolling his eyes before shaking his head.

"Thank you guys," you finally said, not quite sure what else to say. The boys just chuckled and looked down at you.

☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.

Sorry this was really long , or if it was repetitive and not a lot happened :[ . I have never before written a threway fic before so I was a bit scared to just throw a lot in there and it would be even longer or boring . I hope this was good !

100 notes · View notes

aurumacadicus · 9 months

Text

Well I lied it's the evening lol. It's a bit angsty which is why I didn't post it on Christmas but it's fine for now probably. It's just over 3K so watch out for the cut!

Tony’s Christmas present was delivered two weeks after they broke up.

Steve stared at it, wondering what to do. It was a painting he’d done, something to try out watercolor with. He’d planned the view of the skyline from the tower, but he hadn’t really liked his work. Even now, he could admit he’d been too ambitious with his first project, colors muddling together into unplanned browns. But Tony had loved it, especially when Steve had painted a tiny red spot flying over the buildings when he finally gave up on realism, had gushed over it until he’d forlornly watched Steve put it away with the other paintings he was disgruntled with for not working.

Steve had gotten it framed professionally for him when he realized how much Tony had loved it, had even picked out a spot in his bedroom where it could be hung. At the time, the choice was partly because he knew Tony loved it, but mostly because Tony was so supportive when he tried anything new. He wanted to let Tony know he appreciated it, and the painting had even grown on him when he was looking at it and remembering Tony’s compliments—how much he’d improved between the blues of the bases of the buildings and the splotchy peach sunset behind them, how charming it was that the thickness of his outlines changed, how obvious his intentions were behind his mistakes.

Steve didn’t know what to do with it now. Their relationship ending hadn’t been… explosive. He still lived in his apartment in the tower. They still worked and fought together. They just… stopped being close. He stopped staying the night. Meals together didn’t happen unless it was a team event. Things between them were… okay. Fine, even.

Maybe fine enough he could still give the painting to him, Steve thought, considering. It could be an olive branch. Steve couldn’t imagine keeping it, now, but he also couldn’t imagine giving it to anyone else, either. Maybe he could just… leave it for Tony, and Tony could decide what to do with it.

Steve still had clearance to the penthouse, but so did the rest of the team, so he tried not to read into it too much. Besides, it was just a quick in-and-out. A delivery, he could call it, if Tony asked. He wondered where to leave it. He didn’t want to just leave it out for anyone to find. But he also didn’t want to hang it where he’d planned, because that seemed too intimate. Finally, he decided to just leave it leaning against the wall where he’d meant to hang it. Hopefully Tony would understand that meant it was his to do with as he wished, even if it was just to throw it out.

“JARVIS, call Mama Rhodes,” Tony’s voice suddenly called out, clipped, and Steve nearly jumped out of his skin. Tony was already supposed to be gone. He looked around frantically for a place to hide, suddenly feeling like he was intruding, and finally ducked into Tony’s bathroom.

“Yes, Sir,” JARVIS replied after a moment, and then there was the sound of a line ringing.

Steve cautiously took a step closer to the door and peered out, ready to duck back out of sight. Tony was pulling his suitcase out of the closet, along with a handful of clothes—casual things, he thought, denim and cotton and flannel. Comfy clothes.

“You’re late,” a warm, amused voice said as soon as she picked up. Steve couldn’t help but feel a little wistful; he was supposed to meet Mrs. Rhodes for Christmas. Colonel Rhodes had given him an approving little nod when Tony had asked if he could bring Steve. He’d ridden that high for days.

“I know, I—a party ran late, and then I had to put out a couple of fires in R&D,” Tony answered, stuffing his things into his suitcase. “I’m packing right now, and then I’ll—take the train?”

“Oh, you can bring a car if you want, honey,” Mrs. Rhodes replied. “Traffic’s not bad. It’ll be about the same as the train.”

“Okay,” Tony answered, harried. “I’m sorry. I’ll be there in a couple hours.”

“You’ll still be here in time for coffee and cake,” Mrs. Rhodes answered. There was a long pause as Tony scrambled over to grab his underwear and socks, but finally, softly, she asked, “And… your beau? Steve? Is he coming with you or arriving separately?”

Steve dropped the painting he was still holding in shock. Luckily, Tony shut the drawer of his dresser loudly at the same time, so he didn’t notice. Mrs. Rhodes still thought he was coming? Tony hadn’t told her they’d broken up? They’d split just after Thanksgiving. He’d had weeks to tell her.

“…Steve…” Tony began, and his knuckles had gone white where he was gripping his underwear. He hesitated, then straightened his shoulders, expression flat. “Steve was called away on a mission.”

Steve gaped at him. That was a bald-faced lie. He was not on a mission. They were broken up.

“Oh, honey, it’s Christmas,” Mrs. Rhodes sighed.

“Hydra doesn’t take holidays,” Tony insisted. “He wouldn’t have gone, but it was really important. He wanted to come to meet you, Mama.”

“Hmm,” Mrs. Rhodes responded, clearly not believing it. “Well. Jim will be very disappointed. He wanted to see if Steve fit on the hide-a-bed.”

Tony let out a bark of reluctant laughter, face falling. “Yeah,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked miserable. “Well. He said he’d try to make it in time for your New Years Eve party.”

“If he doesn’t make it, there’s always the fourth of July,” Mrs. Rhodes answered, kind and putout somehow at the same time. “And before you say anything, I know it’s his birthday. I could make him a cake!”

“He likes strawberry rhubarb pie better,” Tony said, walking over to stuff his underwear into his suitcase. “Mama, I’m gonna get on the road. I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll hide a slice of cake with a carrot decoration from Carol for you,” Mrs. Rhodes assured him, and then, “Drive safely, honey.”

“I’m Iron Man. I’m not gonna die on the I-95,” Tony grumbled.

“Drive safely,” Mrs. Rhodes repeated, in that way that all mothers did when their children were being sassy and they had no patience for it.

“Yes’m,” Tony answered obediently, and his shoulders sagged as the call clicked off.

Steve sank back into the bathroom, mind whirling at the fact that Tony hadn’t told what was, ostensibly, his family about their breakup. And he hadn’t taken the chance to set the record straight even when Mrs. Rhodes had asked about it. Instead, he’d… lied. Had acted as if nothing was wrong between them, that they were still dating and Steve had still wanted to go. Why?

It was too much. Steve couldn’t make sense of it, and he knew it would eat away at him the entire time Tony was gone. He would take his lumps for being in Tony’s penthouse. He just needed to know.

“Why didn’t you tell her we broke up?” he asked, stepping out of the bathroom.

Tony jumped, both feet leaving the ground, and he stared at Steve in shock as he turned to face him. “Steve?! What the fuck are you doing here?!”

“Wanted to drop off your present,” Steve answered brusquely. “Why didn’t you tell her we broke up?”

Tony’s mouth flapped uselessly. For a moment, he looked angry, and Steve was sure he’d be told in no uncertain terms to fuck off. Finally, though, he just… sagged, sad and defeated, and answered, “I didn’t want to ruin Christmas again.”

Steve frowned, confused. “What?”

Tony sucked in a breath. It sounded wet, but Steve couldn’t be sure, because Tony turned back to his suitcase, stuffing clothes into it without finesse. “Christmas… sucks. It just does. It’s like people forget I’m Tony Stark until Black Friday and they’re shocked I have to go to work. They’re shocked I still have to publicly mourn my parents. They’re shocked I have to go to every charity event I’m invited to. I barely have time to sleep, let alone spend time with someone else. And it makes them realize that this will be their life. Every December is going to mean being lonely because I have to work. So I have to tell the Rhodes that the reason I’m showing up alone is because I’ve been broken up with, and they say ‘oh, honey,’ and they try to take my mind off it, but I know I’m just a huge downer every year.

“And I just thought,” Tony added, sucking in another wet breath, and Steve’s heart broke when he saw his shoulders begin to shake. “I thought maybe they’d let it go. If I pretended everything was fine, and you were just out of town, it would be okay. I’d tell them we broke up in January and everything would be fine.”

“Tony,” Steve whispered, carefully stepping closer. It made sense, even as it made him feel sick. Part of the reason they’d broken up was because they weren’t seeing each other outside of battle. It made for difficult conversations, always keyed up with no downtime to decompress. Steve thought the only thing Tony had said that was wrong was that it started right after Thanksgiving—he’d gotten busy long before November. But maybe, if he was so used to it, it seemed that way to him. Steve reached out, meaning to take Tony’s elbow, turn him to face him.

Tony seemed to sense it, flinching away and spinning back toward him. “Please,” he whispered back. “Please let me tell them you’re just out of town. It’s Carol’s first Christmas with the Rhodes. I don’t want to ruin this for her.”

He wasn’t crying, Steve noticed in relief, even though he looked like one wrong move would send him cascading over the edge. He opened his mouth, then closed it again when Tony’s shoulders fell, as if expecting him to turn him down. What had he called it in that last fight? ‘Your inability to even see other people’s moral standards’ and ‘your expectation for them to bend to yours.’ Tony thought he’d be so offended by the lie that he didn’t care if it ruined anyone’s family Christmas. Steve didn’t want to know if he could feel any lower than he did.

“Of course, Tony,” he said instead, and it hurt a little that Tony visibly relaxed in relief, but he figured he deserved it. He opened his mouth again, to apologize for being just another person who let him down when he’d promised himself that he wouldn’t be, but that would be too selfish, he thought. “I hope you have fun,” he said instead, and he meant it. He hoped it didn’t sound snide or trite.

“I always have fun with the Rhodes,” Tony offered, turning back to his suitcase. He fiddled with his clothes for a moment, then glanced up at Steve out of the corner of his eye. “You won’t be alone?”

Steve felt his heart do a flip. Even hurting, Tony was concerned about him being alone for the holidays. “I thought I might go with Natasha to the farm.”

“Good. That’s… good,” Tony said, playing with the zipper on his bag. Finally, he let out a little, overwhelmed sniff and zipped it closed with finality. “I have to get going. I’m already late.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed quietly. He didn’t want Tony driving the icy roads in the dark.

“If you…” he trailed off, then sighed, shaking his head as he hefted his suitcase up. “Merry Christmas, Steve.”

“Merry Christmas,” Steve echoed, unable to do anything but watch him leave. He thought about telling him about the painting before he was gone, then decided against it. It might be too much; Tony was already fragile. It would be there when he came back, after all.

He went into the bathroom to retrieve it, smoothing his thumb over the splotchy facsimile of the armor, then carefully leaned it up against the wall where he thought it would go best.

.-.

No one said anything about Steve not being there until New Year’s Eve, and Tony was grateful. He’d managed to forget the hurt for a while, even, playing with Lila and talking sports with Terrance. Roberta didn’t even say anything when he came in for a ‘mom hug,’ long and lingering, her nails scratching along his scalp soothingly.

“I appreciate it, man,” Jim said, clapping him on the shoulder gently. “Carol was really nervous about meeting the family. You can tell me what’s really going on, though. Is Steve actually dealing with Hydra?”

Tony twisted his champagne glass in his fingers quietly, frowning. “Well…”

Jim said nothing for a moment, then gave his shoulder a firmer squeeze. “Okay. So who are you going to kiss at midnight, then?” he asked, giving him the out instead of forcing him to admit anything.

Tony tipped his head back to blink up at him in confusion. “Huh?”

“Literally my girlfriend is here Tony,” Jim sighed, shaking his head. There was a smile curling at the corners of his mouth, though. “I’m going to be kissing her.”

Carol swiveled from where she’d been talking to Monica and Lila, squinting at them skeptically. “Did you just insinuate that you and Tony kiss each other on New Year’s Eve?”

“Reluctantly, I’m confirming it,” Jim sighed.

“How come everything about you guys is weird?” Monica asked, more curious than judgmental.

“You get used to it,” Lila assured her.

Monica didn’t look convinced, but she also didn’t argue. “Alright.”

“I’m kissing Carol,” Jim told Tony flatly.

Tony sighed, glancing around the room. Terrance and Roberta would kiss. They always did. He and Lila used to give each other a kiss on the cheek, but she was currently at that tender age where adults were gross in general, and family especially. He was, apparently, very uncool. He contended this would change when the next StarkPhone came out, but he also wasn’t going to push it with a pubescent teenage girl. He was kind of scared of them and especially of Lila because she’d already muttered judgmentally about his goatee.

He perked up when he noticed Maria talking with Roberta. “Maybe—”

“No,” Maria answered firmly, not turning around.

Tony crossed his arms in a pout, turning a scowl on Jim. “Well. No one I guess.”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” Carol asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

For a moment, Tony felt caught out, even though he knew she was just reminding him of social mores like everyone else and not pointing a finger in his face and telling everyone he was single again. He felt a cold sweat come over him, that she’d announce to the room at large that he was a failure and a liar for not admitting his relationship was over before Christmas.

“That’s honestly never stopped us,” Jim cut in, before he could out himself, and slung an arm over Tony’s shoulders in solidarity. “Or, well, Tony.”

“Tony’s always passed out kisses like candy,” Lila confirmed with a resolute nod, and Tony heard Terrance and Roberta both sigh. It maybe sounded fond. He wasn’t going to read into it.

Carol’s mouth flattened into an unimpressed line. “Every fffricking day there’s something weird about you guys to learn.”

“That fricking was very natural,” Tony assured her, because she’d already received several side-eyes for her swearing.

Carol lifted her fist, but even just a ‘playful’ nudge to the arm was painful, so when the doorbell rang at the same time, Tony shoved his champagne into Jim’s hand and scurried to answer it. It could be some neighbors with some black-eyed peas for them to eat in the new year. He didn’t understand the tradition, but Roberta always made her famous jalapeño-honey cornbread to go with it, so who was he to complain?

But it wasn’t tiny Mrs. Mathers at the door with a Tupperware full of beans. Tony blinked, staring at the broad chest in front of him, then tipped his head back. His mouth dropped open a little in shock when he recognized who, exactly, was standing in front of him

“Did I miss it?” Steve asked breathlessly.

“Huh?” Tony answered dumbly.

Steve reached toward him, and Tony noticed a duffle bag hanging from his arm dropping to the ground at the action. He blinked, too stunned to react with anything more. Steve should be at the Barton farm, he thought dimly. Or… somewhere else. Not here. Not with him.

Steve’s hands were cradling his face, and his expression was so tender. Tony stared up at him, confused and alarmed. Maybe he’d been taken over by body snatchers or something? They weren’t like this anymore. They’d broken up almost a month ago.

“Tony,” Steve said gently. “This was the worst month of my life. I hated not being with you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Tony blinked again, a hand drifting up to cover one of Steve’s. “Surely not worse than that month of food poisoning,” he began, voice a croak.

“That wasn’t food poisoning,” Steve corrected, like he always did, but he sounded fond instead of annoyed like he used to. “It was just poisoning. I was being poisoned.” The smile playing at his lips fell. “You put up with me while I was pissy and sick, and I couldn’t do the same when you got busy with work. I’m sorry. I want to do better, I… Will you let me? Can we try again?”

“It will be the same thing every year,” Tony sighed, frowning.

“Next year, I’ll be prepared,” Steve told him firmly. “Next year, I’ll know better. Next year, I’ll help.”

“Steve,” Tony began, even as he leaned his face into Steve’s grip. He wanted to believe him, was the thing. Up until the end, things had been so good. Steve had been so sweet, so attentive, so kind. And he’d thought he’d been a pretty good boyfriend too. But things hadn’t been working, at the end, both of them testy and on edge, without enough time to decompress from battle, work, each other. “I want to… but—”

“Please just give us one more chance,” Steve whispered, pressing closer, bending so he could lean their foreheads together. “One more. And if it doesn’t work, then that’s that. And I’ll be the one to come tell everyone, so you don’t ruin Christmas, okay? It’ll be me. I’ll ruin Christmas.”

Tony’s resulting laugh was shaky, but he had to admit it was the first truly genuine one he’d managed since they’d broken up. “Steve…”

“Please,” Steve begged, and then, “But obviously if you say no, that’s okay too. But I just thought… we both decided to call it quits. I thought maybe we could both decide to try again.” He hesitated, then leaned back a little, quietly asking, “Do you want to?”

Steve had been leaving a Christmas present for him the last time he’d seen him, Tony remembered, and he could feel his cheeks heating. He’d been thinking about it in every spare moment he had. It had to be something special, if he didn’t want Tony to open it in front of the rest of the team when they came back in the new year. It had to mean he was earnest. But did that mean he wanted to try again? After everything?

Steve’s palms were still warm against his cheeks, and Tony couldn’t help but sag into his grip. “Okay,” he whispered, and then, “I didn’t have anyone to kiss at midnight, anyway.”

“Rude,” Steve griped, but there was humor in his tone. “I want to kiss you all the time. Everyone should have been jumping at the chance.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, laughing a little, and then laughed harder into Steve’s mouth when he lunged in for a kiss.

#aurumacadicus writes #stony #anyway after the midnight kiss tony smacks a wet one on rhodey and carol + maria + monica are OUTRAGED that no one cares #steve is a little jealous but he figures he deserves it #(jim agrees but he doesn't say so because he knows his parents will be very cold to steve about it and he wants it to work out for tony)

122 notes · View notes

punk-in-docs · 1 year

Text

🕷️ Girlfriend is Better 🕷️

Eddie Munson x reader

10.9k words

Summary: Eddie x Pencils hit a bit of a hurdle in their early relationship. But she puts it to rights - and then hits the sweet metal head with an offer he can’t refuse- tw violence, past assault: in this chap folks - sorry its taken so long to get this done - enjoy

Eddie can feel their eyes on him.

He feels it’s undeserved and let’s be honest, a little odd. It’s not as if he’s not doing anything out of the ordinary here. He’s just being- normal.

His version at least. His wheelhouse batshit normal. Eddie-like.

They’re looking at him like he’s grown a new head.

Munson Motor mouth, rabbiting on its usual mile a minute as Motörhead shreds through the van speakers with Lemmy’s choppy and tasty riffs.

Early morning cigarette that he lit before he hopped in the van for the drive to school, curling smoke held between two fingers.

He’s batting the saggy steering wheel in time to the song. Ba-da-da with his other open palm to coincide with drum clashes that pound through like falling rocks and crashing thunder.

He still takes the corners way too fast like a coked up maniac. Some things will never change.

He looks the same. Smiles the same. But there’s a new breed of manic warping his usual calamity of a nature.

He’s not grumbling about this morning. Or a test or pop quiz he had coming up. No miserable sluggishness. Toothpaste breath. Not slumped and still yawning. With nothing but a weak instant coffee, two sugars, as his one and only source of breakfast. Gritty coffee that still catches the grounds between his back teeth.

Hair that mushed dry state that’s hard to tell if it’s met with a brush or not yet. Possibly this morning. It’s a maybe. It’s a not really.

Leather and battle vest showed up for duty on his lanky torso as per usual. Hellfire shirt of course. The ripped jeans. The wallet chain that swings and jingles and clatters to denim when he walks and makes him sound like a jangling six foot cat with a little tinkling bell on its collar. It’s all there. The jangly jacketed freak is all assembled.

But there’s this newness to the way he’s smiling.

So wide it dimples his cheeks. Creases the corner of those intimidating wells of eyes. It’s like someone’s fuel injected him with something to make him wilder. More swirly. Practically floating. Any higher he’d be in the big blue stratosphere. Sun grazed and heady. Icarus soaring too close to the sun. Not yet plunged to earth. Melting gold spattered on milk white swan feathers as he tumbled to earth.

Jeff makes a joke about him toking up before school. Eddie reached over and ruffled his hair. Making that demons smile. Rings flashing from his fingers in the meagre sun. “Man, I wish.”

“Got new pills from Rick or something?”

Eddie frowned. “Hell no. Besides. Wouldn’t be wasting those beauties right before first period English class.” He scoffs.

Dustin and Mike share a furtive glance that begs to know what’s up. Dustin mumbles What the shit, man?

He’s finally cracked. I’m calling it.

He didn’t have far to go.

He judders the van along the lot at school. Rumbling tyres over the loose gravel. Head bobbing to the metal as he lurches the wheel and swings into a space.

“Be seeing you. Little hellions. Be free. Give em hell.” He chuckles. Lumping the van into park. Watching them open doors and frown. Scurrying away to class. Gathered close and whispering. Hiking backpack straps up their shoulders and clutching chunky math books and still regarding him like more of an oddity than he actually is.

Of course there is a reason for the golden sunshine visibly sneaking out his pores, and bouncing the soles of his happy feet today. And it’s his wonderful secret.

Eddie shakes his head, and shoulders all his jagged chips and hatred for this place.

The amount of chips he’s got shelved there, worn on his shoulders, about this stunning educational penitentiary, frankly, he could very realistically wear like scales at this point.

He puts a cigarette to his lips and slips around the corner of the lot, jacket and wallet chain clinking as he goes, sneaking to the smokers spot.

A balding patch of grass skimmed to mud, and a graffitied brick wall, snugly hidden around the side of the squat building where some go to steal a quick smoke before class. He usually occupies the spot alone and has to haul ass like a frightened racoon if a teach clocks him.

No sooner had he come within an inch of the corner, cig almost to his lips, and he is yanked around it by a sturdy hand yanking him fully out of view - by his wallet chain. He feels the tug on the denim around his hip, pulling taut.

He wants to yowl and start squirming away from the grip, slinging fists into faces at this ambush. When really he wants to turn tail and leg it in the opposite direction. Flight not fight.

His back collided with graffiti breeze block and before he could turn out his pockets, show them holding lint and nothing else save for a quarter and a D20, screechily proclaim his dispensary is clean out man, back off-

Then some warm lips mould to his.

A gentle artists hand, faded blue polish on the nails, knuckles scraping bricks, is cupping the back of his wild mane and cupping him for a kiss he slowly melts too.

He honest-to-god goes fully boneless with the way you kiss him. The scrappy fight and shock slowly leeches out those gangly poky limbs. Sparks shoot to his fingertips.

He smiles. You can feel his dimples and a cold leathered arm comes folding around your back. The bracelet and the jangle of those zips up his wrists. Settling at the dip of your waist and his fingers slide into the back of belt loop of your jeans.

When you pull back for breath that you’re not sure you want more than him, he has the dopiest grin skated on his face.

“Morning.” You beam finally.

Because that kiss seemed way more important. You can’t help the feeling he instills. Feels like your belly is birthing a wild jungle crammed with winking wings of butterflies. Brilliant blue. Wicked electric yellow. Gossamer pink. They all shimmer.

“Hey hot stuff.” He smiles. Not restraining himself whatsoever.

Oh, they shimmer even more to the sight of that. Mad. Wild. Unhinged.

His cheeks kissed a little pink. He doesn’t even care that he dropped his cigarette in the mud. He’d rather chase the taste of your lips and let that sustain him all morning. Better than pills and nicotine. This static-fizzy-starburst feeling he gets big lungfuls of when around you.

“Didn’t mean to grab you like that. But I must admit that chain is certainly a handy hook.” You flick a fingertip to it. Sway that lolling chain into his thigh. Biting your lower lip in a smile.

He cups one side your face. If anyone got to chew that lip, it’s gonna be him. Leans in to gently smooch you again.

“Goddamn. I was reaching for my attack whistle there, pencils.” He rubs his hand over your hip. Rings chafe against your denim waistband.

“Maybe I was overzealous. But I do have a stunning defence.”

You lean up on tiptoes to smash a polite smooch back to his mouth. He mumbled a curious sound into your lips.

“Which is?” He seeks. Lips chasing yours for more. Even through speaking. Insanity catches.

“I missed you like crazy and it’s been barely 12 hours since I last saw you, and kissed you. And etcetera…” You flirt.

He can see these little delighted pips in your eyes. Like sowed little seeds of pride. The etcetera being all the dirty things you finally got to indulge in last night. Threaded in moonlight at skull rock.

No regrets. He doesn’t see any tint of regret in you.

Seeing that kicks his rocker heart right up to the moon, and sailing on over it. Like those old songs. Moonbeams and old soft tinkling pianos. Ladies with gardenias in their hair crooning about moondance, love and seeing stars.

He gets it now. He totally gets all of that sappy shit.

“I hereby decree that is far too long, and way too stupid of us, actually.” He finishes your thoughts for you. They were symmetrical to his own after all.

“So stupid. We’re just like, a complete pair of morons right now.” You concur. Linking your fingers into his. Standing toe to toe and just drinking in how it feels to be near again.

“So I’m thinking, we should cease all impending stupidity and uh y’know, catch a movie tonight or, grab a bite at Benny’s. Something like that. Anything.” He says. Smile all limned in excitement.

Shaking that big moppish mane of hair as a grin splits his mouth when he speaks, makes him look like an out and out excited little kid.

Fidgeting with your hands and immersing himself in the tactile deliciousness of your hands being held in his. Little touches that stayed with him all night.

Kept bugging him even in dreams he’s sure thoughts of you crept at the oil slick lining of his mind like wing tips of persistent gentle moths. The dusty old ones the colour of sour grey milk. Ones that they get flapping around the trailer porch light at night in balmy summer. The soft blink as they hit the glass shade.

“Burgers at Benny’s sounds so good.” You grin. “Loaded chilli fries?”

He scoffs. “Naturally. I’m not an animal.”

You run your hands through his wild hair. Listen to him talk. Heart entirely bloated with love of this boy. You swear it’s knocking all giddy up against your ribs like some deformed roaming creature seeking release.

“Shall we head out after class? I’ll drive.” He offers. His stomach zig-zags in vicious excitement.

“Catch you after class, handsome.” You grin.

“Ohh, whoa. I never said I was done with you yet.” His eyes flicker with something you think is cheekiness.

Swooping in to slow kiss you for a beat too long. An embrace that makes him hum softly. Makes you mewl. Right at he back of his throat. Lips roaming gentle and soft and your bodies rock together. Gets him cupping your back to keep you near.

“Fuckk gimme another one of those, pencils. I’m not below begging.” Cups your face again. He wants another kiss. Eyes wide as bourbon brown saucers

Chuckling in the muggy space between your smiles, cheeks fired all warm, sharing the same breath, you lean in and give it to him. Giving him the deep messy kiss you’d been craving.

When it’s time to pull back to guzzle air and maybe some reality again, Eddie chases your retreat with his mouth. His lips bruised a stunning cupid pink. Taking a breath that he’s not sure he needs more than he does you.

“Jesus H Christ. How the hell am I gonna even attempt to concentrate today-“ He asks. Voice all raspy and slow gravel.

“What usually stops you?” You sass him. He bites his lip all naughty and softly jabs you right in the stomach; a move designed to tickle.

“Blasphemy. Dear one. I mean, how dare you.” He grins. Chocolate drop eyes all crinkled at their corners. You cover his hand on your stomach, with your own. He likes the soft warm pouch of you there.

It’s tactile. It’s touch. It shoots right to the roof of Eddie’s brain and does something so funky to him he can’t even describe it in words. Actions maybe - Beer on an empty stomach. The first hit of some really silky smooth strain Rick gives him to try. The home made warm sugary scent of that peach cobbler Wayne makes him on his birthday.

They haven’t designed or discovered enough appropriate words to put to this feeling. None that even his whip smart nature can grasp at.

“I’ll soothe that wounded ego and buy you a chocolate shake later if it pleases.” You offer. Tilting your head. Offer placed on the table.

“An ego bruise is a problem I will gladly allow you to throw chocolate and ice cream at.” His fingers worm their way through yours. Knuckles locked. You could do this all day.

“Can be swayed with chocolate. Good to know.”

“And candy. Pizza rolls are good too.”

“Noted.” You beam. Snuggling to his front. Hands still joined. Fused as one.

The sound of the bell ringing for first period is a rude interjection into a morning that’s shaping up to be stellar.

Eddie didn’t seem best pleased by this. Judging by the way he takes advantage of that split second of your distraction hearing the bell, to snatch his hands at your shoulders and loop you round so your back is to the wall instead of his. Sneak attack.

His arm is a leather band over the back of your waist and he gently cups your chin and deepens a silky melting kiss that is, just, so many elements of perfect it should be outlawed that just kissing can be this good.

The plush of his deeply plump lips, with the scraping push of some stubble on his upper lip. It’s delicious. The way he kisses is better than any hit off any joint. You don’t care what he says. Better than purple haze. Better than fucking anything. Backed by sheer dopey sized crushes that take you both, head to toe. Crushes taking on a life of their own. Wearing your skins whole and making you desperate. Make you ache.

You kiss him back. Desperately. Drenched in want. But also knowing that you should be hot-footing it to your first class lest you get a tardy slip. To turn up late, with a very very kiss worn mouth like that would be about as obvious as the nose on your face.

“Eddiii-mmmmm.” You plead to his bewitching mouth. Smoky minty breath and the faintness of his morning coffee on your tastebuds. He’s cupping your face like your some sacred relic he has to handle gently. As if he had corrosive fingertips. Strychnine laced touch.

When he pulls back. Hands two big gangly paws holding your neck, there’s this sweet dazed look all over his expression. Drugged on you. The way you kissed him like his tongue is made out of cherry candy and you only want more- oh lord.

How’s that for irony. The Hawkins High school dealer and here he is getting a huge hit, from kissing you. Nothing that comes pre rolled in a baggie making his mind fuzz like hot molasses, or circled into a wild little chalky pill that makes his head all bright and fuzzy sharp like cotton candy.

Making out before class he can gladly get hooked on. He thinks he’s there already. DT-Ing for more. Make him shake and rattle on all fours like a rabid dog.

“One for the road…” He explains inbetween raspy pants for breath. A silly smile all yours for the keeping.

You pat his chest. He could honestly whimper at the tactile feel of your hand resting on the meat of his pectoral. So dangerously close to skin on skin.

“I better go.” You sigh. A drop kick to your mood to leave him. You take a step back.

He can’t allow that. He whines like a kicked puppy. Button eyes all round and shiny with whatever amount of sadness it would take to root you here, with him.

“Don’t. Pencils. Stay here. Stay uneducated and stupid with me and let’s just make out, all day.” He waggles some filthy intentioned brows at you. Pleading threaded onto his voice. Trying his best to yank you back.

“You could easily tempt me to play hooky any day, Munson. But I’ve been studying for this test all week.” You point out.

“Well. I can’t deny that dorky chicks turn me on.” He sighs nicely. You can’t help smiling.

“Really? I figured tiny pleated little cheerleader skirts and peppy bouncy pom-poms turned you on.” You tease. Voice all sultry.

He leans in and smacks a kiss to the end of your nose.

“Nuh-uh. I like em’ covered in paint and jeans and artsy, and working in record shops with old hippies. And hopelessly in all consuming love with me.” He grins.

“Kiss ass.” You smirk. Smacking a kiss to his cheek. Stepping back. His hand slithers to find yours again. Links fingers. His rings glitter. They’re all warm where he’s been holding hands with you. On you.

“Hey, my girlfriend is a damn fox. This is a hill I’ll die on.”

You bring your joined hands up and kiss the back of his for that.

“Class beckons.” You roll your eyes. Shouldering your bag. Unwilling to unlink hands until you absolutely had too.

“See you at lunch?” You ask. His brows creased. Makes him look like an upset puppy.

“Can’t. Got a drop to make in the woods.”

“Parking lot after school?” He counter offers.

“You bet.” You agree. And you cannot even handle the wait.

You walk away around the corner. Eddies eyes trail over you as you go.

“Enjoy the smoke.” You turn over your shoulder and call back.

He saluted you with a flicking motion, with that million dollar grin pleasured all over his face.

“Brutal babe. You know what I’d enjoy more…” his inflection at the end of his words lets you know what he’s referring too.

“Down boy.” You play as you head off. Smile all secret and wide for him. Grin so wide it makes his heart pulse.

He’s grasping a hand over his mad heart as you slip away. One knee bent up. Sneakered foot flat to the wall behind him.

He reaches for that cigarette and his lighter. Though he doubts this little stick will do any damn thing that kissing you didn’t. He lights up. Grinning. You left his heart thrashing about and kicking inside the shell of his denim and leather like a damn drum in a cramps song.

Way, way across the field, sat high up on the bleachers with some of the girls on the cheer squad. In full view of the back brick wall where you had just been. Supposedly around the corner and concealed from view-

Linda snapped her binder shut. Eyes packed in venom. Huffing as she picked up her books.

Lipsticked lips pursed together in a grim hot pink line. Annoyance fills her chest and rams up against her ribs. Sour in her stomach. Nastiness curdled up on her tongue. She’d seen enough.

You and the freak. Just like Jonny said.

No fucking way.

Eddie bapped along to some rock that had been trapped in the lining of his crazy head since this morning. Head bumping as he hummed along, sang under his breath to Rattlehead. That mane flicking every which way.

Metal lunchbox swings from his hand and clatters as he bounced along the familiar route. Feet trained for the way. Leaves cushion his rustling step. He drags his eyes over the foliage spread high above.

Dappled with gold sunshine of the afternoon that chips down. The odd scurry of a bird flapping around the treetops. Nature and the soothing crash of wind lacing through wide apple-green leaves. He darts his eyes around, seeking and searching for the shape of anyone to come crashing through the trees.

He arrived at his little decaying stoop in the woods. The table that’s so carved and scarred with crude drawings and initials it’s chipped and falling to bits. Cig butts littered everywhere and Eddie shamefully admits some of them are most likely his. His place of business is well reputed.

Swinging his leg over the bench seat and slinking himself up onto the table to take a pew. Sneakers resting on the seat. Cause when has he ever approached anything normally, or fallen into doing anything that comes into the category of usual.

He throws the lunchbox lid open with no gilding the lily, and braces his scattered mind into this deal. Shoves through the bags to find the semi-decent stuff. Wave of heady green hits him in the nose as he rummaged and carried on humming to himself.

Though really for the preppy guy who propositioned this drop, he’s tempted to charge way too much for a thin little roll of ditchweed.

Alas, his reputation is too important. One bad sale and he’d never touch profits on it again. He will unwillingly part with some decent sativa for the knucklehead.

He thumbs through his papers and rustling bags and makes a note of exactly what he’ll put his fistful of measly dollars from the sale towards; another date with you.

He’s heard of this great alt store a couple towns over. Super your style. Record store in back, cool clothing, apparantly a rock n roll kinda vibe that you would appreciate. Posters, merch, jewellery, you name it.

He can’t think of a better place to take you for a date. He’s keeping it under wraps even though, god knows, his blabber mouth which runs and rants away from itself, wanted to yell and shriek about it to you nonstop.

How he wanted to scrape together some dollars to buy you something. A handful of punk style patches, a tee, a poster for your bedroom door that needed some anarchy or some goth Siouxsie. Maybe a little Joan and some Blackhearts action.

He’s heard you crank them up on your headphones to blaring when you’re trying to concentrate on a sketch. Like the loudness lifts you out your mind and transcends into the paint.

How he wanted to make a mixtape for you, of all the metal songs - and to his embarrassment some of the less tacky love ballads - that bring you to the forefront of his mind when he hears them. Even some older crooning songs that Wayne likes.

The stuff he was drip-fed on in his early days, sweet and crooning, like slow gold honey melting into his ears. Listening to them and snatching pieces of melody that breezed through the trailer. Warm and sunny to listen to. Softly swaying Don Henley, Woodie Guthrie, and Jim Croce. Even some Ella or some Julie London and her smokiness.

He smiles to himself as he comes to Rattlehead’s chorus. Toes tapping the rotten old bench and creaking the wood, as he scrunches bags aside this way and that to find the pre-rolls. Fingers drum the beats off the side of the tin. Clacking out into the woods.

The brutal snap of a twig makes him peer around.

Eddie swims his eyes through the trees and eventually drags them to find a Jock with his hands shoved in his pockets.

It’s not someone he’s on a first name basis with. He’s lost amongst a sea of sensible jeans and varsity two tones. Sea green and blinding white with the lion gold yellow Hawkins H proudly blazoned on his front.

Crazy how differently they wear their allegiances.

He’s the anti-thesis of Eddies style. Shirt tucked in. Sensible white sneakers that aren’t beat up to shit. Preppy. Hair brushed. Some square jawed Ryan or Chad or whomever, pads towards him.

The look in his eyes twists Eddie’s gut like wet flannel. Scathing.

He’s seen hatred and distain before. Of course. It’s poured very freely his way.

Thats nothing new to him. Distaste. Eye rolls louder than claps of thunder and tutts coming stabbed under breath peppered with nasty words.

This is that crowd at its ugliest. The tribe this guy is happily a part of. Supposed fuckin’ Normalcy. They scar the word ‘Freak’ into him over and over again. Stomp it into his messy maned head over and over with their feet.

Finally he got tired of the brutal raining down kicks and just took it. Weened the power of it. Stole it from them and flipped it. Made it his shield. Propped it up with that DIO patch on his back. Let their hatred sink into that and roll away useless.

Let them know it doesn’t sink down to places where they want it to hurt.

Eddie swallows. Throat suddenly a sticky chasm. Tried to soften the blow and put away whatever the fuck this guy was trying to scowl and throw at him.

“Hey, man. You’re my 1 o’clock right?” He asks. Tapping his knee still and fiddling with his hands.

The guy swerved his jaw before he spoke. “Yeah.” Spine held poker rigid as he answered. Like it offended him to have to be here and talk.

He came into the clearing. Sneakers rustling leaves. Something feels sour about this whole thing.

“Okay. Well- um.” He awkwardly clears his throat. Reaches into the box that he gently sets beside himself. Grabs the joint and fidgets with it for a second.

“It’s uh, it’s twenty bucks for a pre-roll.” Eddie tells him.

“Great.” He watches the guy nod. Curt. His expression steely. Eyes glassy in a way that’s beyond unsettling.

“Ohhhkay.” Eddie nods. Eyes a fraction too pinched at the corners. Concerned frown dragging down his brows. Wondering what the stitch up is. His eyes dart around. Bordering on panic.

He stands to get off the bench, the guy doesn’t so much a muscle to reach across and take the joint off him. Hands still shoved deep in his pockets.

Eddie holds the joint. The guy doesn’t even move to take it.

“It won’t bite man. Smooth as silk and just, hits you like a cool wave when you smoke that puppy. Trust me.”

Something flickers like a sneer across the guys mouth. He looks at the innocuous rolled joint Eddie’s holding out to him. Looks at the brown paper all rolled in his palm.

Eddie shrugs. Wide open. Leather crinkles over the jutting movement of his shoulders.

“You want it or not?” A razor edge starting to creep into his tone.

If this is someone who hasn’t made their mind up, he’s got other places to be. Better times to be had. Than waiting on whether or not the preppy jerk is gonna take the goods off his hands. Or use more than two syllables.

“If you don’t want it. I’ll go right now. Forget it. No hard feelings.” He takes the edge off for him.

Despite the fact that actually a little simmering front of annoyance bubbles at his belly for the guy wasting his free period he could have used to kiss you senseless with wandering hands, right up against the side of his van.

He turns around and throws the joint back into the box. Shaking his head. Making his hair do that wild kicky thing it usually does.

“Maybe you should go. Freak.” Comes spat his way. Drawn in a snarl.

“Whatever, dude.” Eddie puts his back to him. Folds his product back into his box.

More snaps. More rustled leaves. Eddie drifts his eyes up and sees three more guys coming through the woods to the clearing. Walking slowly, picking over nature to come to the bench all menacingly slow. Like he was a deer they were in danger of spooking.

All wearing Hawkins letterman jackets. Sneers writ on all their faces. Intimidation carved into every step they take. They look way too happy to see him here alone.

Suddenly Eddie feels small. Feels like he’s right back in middle school. Being tossed around and bashed up by the bullies. Coming home with stinging scraped knees and a cheek that feels swollen hot, itchy like bloated meat. The crust of dried rust scabbing under his nose.

This feels exactly like that. Some things never change.

“The fuck?” He asks. He won’t lie. His voice wobbles to a croak. Set on shaking sands.

“Where you goin’ loser?” One of them huffs out. Eddie turns his head.

Strutting towards him like the bullshit cover of macho magazine. Or J-Crew, is Barbies boyfriend. The blonde ape.

One of them he doesn’t recognise proudly comes up and slaps the lunchbox out his hands.

Eddie flinches back. Shrinks away. Puts distance between every step they eat up eagerly to come towards him. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want whatever’s coming barrelling his way. He hasn’t done anything except sell some reefer.

“Alright. Alright-“ Eddie stumbles back from the table. Hands high and empty. Voice jittery. His head and gut yell in sync - telling him to run the hell outta there.

“Clearly you guys have some sort of agenda I’m not aware of so why don’t we all just-“ His smile is all tremulous and shaky.

A fist drags his collar into a yank. A curled up punch swings into his face and knocks him clean to the ground before he can chew out his next words. His jaw snaps together. Hot pennies comes flooding his tongue where his teeth cut his cheek.

Stars and bursting black galaxies accompany his artless tumble to the ground.

And then some more fists come raining down. A sneakered foot planting square into his side to kick the wind clean out of him.

They leave him crumpled on the ground. Cushioned by rotting dry leaves. Smeared in mud, blood leaking from two places in his face. Spotting down to his dark shirt.

As a parting gift one of them empties his lunchbox over the floor and stomps its contents into the dirt.

He knows the feeling only all too well.

You clatter into the bathroom after your last class.

Let the bustle of crowds fall far behind you as everyone rushes to the lot to leave. Afternoon summer sun stripes its sneaking glory across the halls and slants the window ledges in gold.

You cross to the sinks and set your sketchbook crammed with new drawings on the side. Leafs of the paper and all the dried paint crinkling, as it’s wedged partially open by the sheer number of crammed pages all skated on dusty pencil or charcoal.

You’d need to buy another pretty soon. One with thick cloth like paper pages for you to fill up.

You go through new books like running water. Never stop sketching. You’d wanted to take Eddie to the funky art shop you grab your supplies from. You’ve a feeling he’d love seeing the paint sets and the sheer number of spray paints they got.

Creativity seemed to flourish from him. His imagination permanently running wild. Could never stop it. One of your favourite things about him in fact.

He would talk about your sketches. Ask you about them. Ask you what the best paint would be for decorating some new figurines he’s got.

He’d twirl the pen you’re using out your hand and tell you all about the way he’d sit in the library for hours drawing fantasy maps for his campaigns on graft paper. Drawing rolling green islands. Mountain caves with trolls. Boggy muggy swamps with draping trees and hidden dangers. Vast seas with coily sea serpents hiding in the waves.

He’d chat to you about your ideas. The ones you’re struggling with for art class. The things you need to study and learn about. The theory of colours. The use of them all dotted in a Poussin or swirled in a Van Gogh.

You could talk to Eddie about anything. For hours and hours. The mere fact of going to grab a huge greasy meaty junk fest of a dinner with him has you walking on clouds.

You want your evening with him already. It can’t come fast enough. You want salty loaded fries and a cold shake and relentless plush Eddie kisses. You wanna climb into the comfy ratty seat in that tired old van that you love. Listen to whatever blasting metal cassette he’s been humming along to all day.

Hell- even just seeing his whole face light up with a smile as you saunter up to his van. The way he’d look at you - the way he always looks at you - with those big shining brown eyes all haloed in golden sun. Brimming with mirth. Cheeks split wide and crow-eyes all bunched up at the corners in glee.

He burns so bright to see you, it’s like he’s swallowed the sun and stars combined. You feel so lucky to have that.

The way he links his fingers with yours. Lopes your fingers together as one and doesn’t even mind if your all paint spattered or your hands are too dry. Palms all hard from scrubbing off acrylic smudges.

He kisses your fingers and acts like you’re draped in diamonds.

Acts like you weren’t wearing a ribbed worn Henley. A large - borrowed - Berkeley blue varsity sweater knotted around your waist, or your straight worn baggy jeans, cuffed up hems and patched at the knees that you mended. And your truly awful red sneakers that are so beat up with age they’re almost a sad faded pink.

He still looks at you like you’re a holy revelation. Each time.

You heap your bag next to the sinks and scrub the last of the charcoal off your hands. Sticky pink soap making a lot of lather around your fingers as you washed the smudgy grey away from the creases in your knuckles. Watch the way it circles down the drain.

You pull up and dry them with the crinkly paper tissues sat on the side.

Take a second to look back to the mirror. Centred all around the ugly squiggles of old sharpie doodles etched on the walls. Contemplate your reflection.

You smooth the hair away from your forehead. Attempt to neaten some of the crazy fluffy bits that kink down around your ears. Fuss with it for a minute or two. Smudge the charcoal away off your cheek.

“Who you trying to look so nice for-“ Comes a cutting tone from behind you. Tone dredged through revulsion and back out again.

A twist over your shoulder reveals Linda. Stood there in her oversized acid wash denim jacket and too-short purple skirt. Hair all bunched up and piled on her head in a half up style wound with a magenta scrunchie. She stands with one hip cocked. And her eyes are frosty daggers.

Heat licks your spine in the shame that you’d been caught preening. “No one.” You say too quick.

Try and inflect some humour on your voice. “You know I don’t exactly have anyone to preen for.” You lie.

Looking down at your hands as you dry them. Scrubbing water away with damp paper. Crush it into a fist and ball it in the bin when you’re done.

You can feel her stare embedding itself into your skull. Like an engraving. Sharp. Scratch of a knife on hollow bone.

“I saw you with him. So don’t try and come at me with your bullshit.” She spits. Words tired and clipped.

You turn over your shoulder. She stands there seething. Looking as bitchy as she usually does. Pink lips pursed.

“Saw me…” you check.

“Yeah. You and Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson?” She poses the words like they’re offensive. Mocking.

Anger furred the back of your tongue. Like feasting on too much sugar. Or a chalky jagged pill lodging itself in your throat.

“Look. I know you’re like, a lonely little virgin or whatever, and you wanna pop your cherry and all, but there’s way better guys out there to screw-”

Your venom stops her words dead.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” You bite.

You see her face fall into shock at your tone. Snappy and sudden. She looked stunned. As if you’d wheeled around 360 and slapped her.

“Oh my god. Don’t tell me you actually like him? Are you serious?” She gapes like it’s illogical.

“He’s a loser with ratty hair who sells weed and lives in a shit hole trailer park.”

“I do like him. I more than like him. We’re dating.” You tell her with steel. “We’re going out tonight as it happens.”

“I knew you had a screw loose but this is just another level of low. Even for you.” Linda bitches.

“How do you never get tiredwith that constant tirade of shit that spills out your mouth Linda.” You snipe.

She rallies to respond. Scanning you with hard eyes backed with new levels of poison.

“I’m not the one dating the King of the freaks.” She hits at you, real low.

“No. You’re dating a two-bit jockstrap who doesn’t even like you, unless you blow him. At least Eddie wants me for more than my pussy.” You point out.

She swallowed. Eyes glimmer. You know that one bit deep.

“Don’t come crying to me when that trailer park asshole dumps you like a cup of cold poison.”

You shake your head and try to remember how to breathe. Snickering cracks of bones in your throat as you swallow. You want to fly into rage and slam your textbook into her stupid scathing face until it dents one of her precious cheekbones.

“You don’t even know him. None of you do. You don’t even know the first two things about him.” You defend loud.

“I know he’s weird as shit and sells skunk. What a catch.”

You bite your tongue. Plenty of insults about Jonny come crawling to mind.

“How long have you two been-“ She sniffs.

“Couple of weeks now. Since Kyle’s party.” You hurl at her furiously.

Her face fills with an expression you can’t read as everything comes to make sense. Falls into place. Puzzle pieces clicking.

“You’ve been lying to me this whole time.”

“Yeah. And you’re so self centred look how long it’s taken you to even notice or give a shit about what’s happening to me or my life.” You finally say all the things you should have voiced long ago.

“You’re only interested now because you care what other people are gonna say on Monday, and what they’ll gossip about.”

“He’s trouble, and he’s gonna get you hurt. Probably gonna give you a filthy rash or something too.” She sneers. “Lord knows what he’s riddled with.”

“You’re such a fucking bitch.” You grit your teeth. Emotion gets the better of your voice. Tears bubble at your lash line. Red hot.

“Not gonna be my problem to have you trailing round after me anymore. Cause by the way, we are no longer friends.” Linda spits. Eyes narrow to slits.

You nod. Resigned. Tears of anger prick the corners of your eyes. You’re too angry to let them loose.

“What a goddamn relief.” You hit back. Chew your lower lip.

“I’ve had to listen to you bitch at me, and whine and snipe, and moan, for years. I’ve had to endure your tantrums and your cutting comments, and every play-by-play of every unsatisfying Friday night screw around, with your shitty dirtbag of a boyfriend who treats you like garbage. And who you run back to each time he fucks you over. And I’m so sick of you.” Your voice comes out raw.

“So yeah. You’re right. We’re not friends anymore. I don’t think we’ve been that for a very long time.”

You put your back to her and grab your books.

“Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out. Freak.” She sideswipes nastily as you shoulder your way past her.

Catching her on purpose. Shoving her with your shoulder to catch her teetering in those heels.

“Have fun with your trailer trash.” She snips.

“Word of advice. Make sure Jonny wraps it first. Word is he’s been screwing Tina on the cheer squad behind your back every Wednesday.“

You watch her saunter up past you to get to the mirror and touch up her lipstick. Ignore ignore ignore.

Her too sweet Revlon perfume making your stomach roil. She looks at her reflection. The thing she loved most. It’s amazing you ever got a look in. She scrunches up sections of her hair to make it bounce. An indifferent mask on her face.

Trying to ignore you already so the tears don’t come. So what else is new.

You pause at the door. Hand on the handle. Books piled on your arms.

“Sad thing is. I never expected you to act any different when you found out. Turns out you’re just that shallow vain bully I always suspected you to be.”

She pretends not to hear as you slip out the door. You’re sure to slam it as loudly as you can.

Coming out into the partially empty hall. Quickly skating a hand down your cheek. Taking a gulp of a deep breath. Starting down the hallway to come to the doors at the end.

Letting the distance to that girls restroom salvage some of your anger. Let it ebb away and let the savage venom words roll down your skin like blunt razors.

You wait to see if they feel like they’ve drawn any blood.

Maybe just a raking deep black bruise. Perhaps the confrontation has lifted a rock solid weight off your chest. Cut your ties to something corrosive.

You storm to the doors at the end, and push your way out. Into the midsummer air. Afternoon sun washing over you as it creeps it’s golden-fiery way by. Slanting ochre across the parking lot.

A gaggle of people clutched around one of the sticky lunch tables stops you dead in your tracks.

That weight comes crashing back with all the subtle tact and grace of a tank storming a building.

It’s Hellfire. The crowd. It’s Gareth, Mike, Jeff and Henderson. They’re all clutched around someone sat on the bench seat. Someone who is leaning forwards with his elbows resting on his knees. One hand held up to his head.

Your mood plunges even more. There’s a sour shift as some of them twist to look at you.

Big childlike eyes full of something that approaches wariness. Sadness dashed with insecurity. The kid-like uncertainty of how to deal with this very gruesome and very real situation.

A cold can of tab, now warm, for the crescent bruise taking shape around his eye socket.

One of them fishing around in the bottom of their bag for crumpled blue band aids. Anything to help.

A wad of crinkly and loveless paper towels snatched from the boy’s restroom and wadded into a wet lump for the blood pouring under his nose. The fresh red that’s staining his tee like big gruesome poppy petals.

His free hand is wrapped around his side for the bruise he can already feel like a dark cloud of cherry red and blue cobwebbing up his skin and over each slat of his ribs on his left side.

They shuffle away from the table and you finally get to see what they all look so grim about.

Eddie is hunched over with a black eye and a bloodied face and nose. He’s muddy and dirty and scratched up and when he meets your gaze, your world shudders on its axis, to a grinding halt.

The way he’s looking at you shatters your damn heart into huge glassy shards. Diamonds and sprinkles of it, sharp and chunky, cut into your chest. Daggering.

He’s hurt.

He swallows and keeps eye contact. Looks at you with such fear and sorrow emanating from those big round bourbon eyes. You see the apprehension in his body.

It doesn’t get any better when he winced and tries to stand. Body bowing as he slowly eased himself off the bench seat. Hand cupping his ribs as he inched his way to a full stand. You hear him groan.

You see as pain flickers across his face. The usual springy frolicking gait is muted. It’s etched with pain and writ with ache.

He wishes he could read your expression right now. As it is he’s struggling to sort it into one emotion.

You look hurt, tear stained, livid and clenched rigid with something that could only be bone deep anger. Venomous, mind numbing, anger. And it was just bubbling and clawing it’s way to a fever pitch.

“Pencils-“ He wets his lips. Looks meek as he watches you carefully. Tenderness in his voice.

You dump your books where you stand and turn on your heel. Sketchbook cast to the floor and heaped atop your bag. You slam back through the doors and into the school - mind set on one salient thing.

The doors slam not seconds after you. The creaking jolt as the metal crunches back into place. Footprints scatter after you on the lino. The squeak of muddy sneakers. The gusting air of a sigh bred with a wince.

Eddie chases after you with all his might. Hooks his hand to your elbow. Tries his best to stop you.

“Hey. Pencils. Babe. Please, let’s get outta here. Let’s just forget this. I don’t know who it was- I didn’t see them.”

He’s really a terrible liar.

“With all due respect Eddie. I know who did it.” You explain bitterly, as you wander along. His touch turns to a tug on your elbow. Pulling at your shirt.

“Because he’s not smart enough to juggle two thoughts at once, much less try and hide the fact he beat you up. And second his jagged pill of a girlfriend just tore me to strips in the girls restroom for finding out.” You say. Possibly louder than you intended.

His face falls.

“Hey, hey…” He says softly.

You turn back. Tears springing down your cheeks. His hands are all over you. Cupping your neck. Your shoulders. You can smell the blood coming off him. Sour pennies. Desperation laced his voice. Comes off him in waves.

Desperate for you not to to this.

“This isn’t stupid shit to me Eddie. This is not okay. Not something I’m gonna let get brushed under the rug-“ your lip wobbles. You shake your head. You rub your nose. Chase the tickling tears away.

He mimics you. Shaking his own head so his hair flicks out. Eyes wide and terror stroked words pour out his mouth.

“Don’t go getting into trouble for me. I don’t want that for you.” He begs. His eyes are wide with it.

“Good thing I want it then.” You resolve.

He looks apprehensive. Choked by it. Scared by your resolve. He doesn’t want to let you do this. This is a doomsday territory.

“Pencils-“

You continue down the hall. He follows. Still doing everything in his power to convince you, or try to stop you. Credit to him, his list of reasons are pretty excellent.

Babe. Please. It doesn’t have to be a thing.

You’re on track. You have your grades. You got Indie state in your future to think of. I don’t want you jeopardising that for me.

I don’t want you going and getting in trouble for this.

He doesn’t stop you from making your way to the gym. But he is right there at your back as you push open the doors, shove your way inside and you don’t care if your entrance is loud.

The idiot jocks practice in the gym after school. Basketball mostly. Some dotted in the bleechers. Long suffering girlfriends sat with bubblegum pink coloured files, shaping their nails to the side and chatting and trying not to look too bored whilst the guys play. Linda sits chattering to one of the cheerleaders.

You wrinkle your nose at the stench. Whole place smells like musty sweat, floor polish and old socks.

Jonny has his back to you as he dribbled the ball. The ricochet of it pangs across the court.

You race across the floor to him like a hell fury. Fists clenched at your side. Eddie still trying in vain to get between you and your stubborn brain. To try and talk you out of this before it’s way too late.

Your entrance with him hot on your heels and whispering pleas at you, draws laughter and sniggering sneers from some of his dirtbag friends. Shouts come aimed your way.

Hey, look who it is. It’s the freaks.

Closed practice, morons.

Jonny doesn’t turn back but you make your presence known.

“Hey. You dumb fuck stain.”

You march right up to his sweaty back and shove him hard with both hands. Wrinkle that goddamn white basketball jersey.

The guys around him make mocking noises. Chorus of awes and exclamations.

The room slowly dawns quieter. The squeak of shoes muffled. Everyone’s eyes centre court where you stand seething. Panting for breath and trying to look as livid as you felt.

He turns back to you all slow and condescending. Like he’s some golden haired Apollo flouncing down from Mount Olympus to grace you with his presence. He’s limned in sweat and dissects you both with conceited arrogance.

“What’s your damage?” He sarcs. Looking down at you like you’re an ant. Or a mangy mongrel.

He flicks his eyes across and landing on Eddie.

“Munson. How’s them ribs.” He sneers.

You’re about ready to topple over the edge and spit nails. Anger gently creeps to a boil.

“Just peachy, thanks for asking.” Eddie answers. Mouth is a grim line. And his eyes look stern coal black. He turns his attention back to you.

“Pencils please. Let’s just let it go. There’s no point…” He whispers. Standing with his hand gently cupping your forearm.

“What do you want? Teams full. We don’t accept weirdos anyway.” Jonny pushes at the both of you.

“I’m not leaving this spot until you tell me why you attacked my boyfriend.” You steel. Voice low and even.

You can feel Eddie’s eyes on you like lasers. Burning holes in the back of your head.

His mouth gapes a little. If it weren’t for the fact he’s terrified off his ass stood here, his heart would flutter like a fledgling baby birds wings, to hear those words admitted aloud.

“No reason. Just don’t like him.” He shrugs all honesty. Passing the ball over to his friend. Standing with his hands on his hips.

“Careful hefting those big thoughts around. You might hurt yourself.” You fire out.

Your fight with Linda left sharp scalpel words on your tongue and now you ache to use them to their fullest.

He doesn’t look happy. Dark gold hair beading sweat down into his cenote blue eyes. Rigid anger on his frown as he glares at you.

“Linda didn’t like the idea of him being around you. She told us we were teaching him a lesson. To stay away from you. We were protecting you, moron.” He says like it should be obvious.

“How fucking considerate. Your girlfriend couldn’t think her way out of a damn paper bag if she had a map, Jonny.”

You feel Linda’s scowl all the way across the room. The weight those slitted eyes and a bitchy scoff. You know those echoing words found their target. Slammed right into bullseye red making their mark. You hope it truly hurts. As much as she hurt you

“She didn’t reserve the right to presume any fucking thing about me. And not one thing gave you not the right to hurt Eddie. Not under the guise of some macho-stupid ‘protecting-you’ crap.” You snarl.

He bounces the ball. You slam forwards and bat it out scathingly out his hand. Send it rolling away.

More chorus of noises scattered around you both as you stepped toe to toe with the guy who almost towered over you.

“You acted out of pure hatred. So don’t try and dress it up at something else. You useless. shithead.” You insult.

“And what are you going to do about it, freak, huh?” He jabbed. Nostrils flaring. Lips pressed together unattractively thin. Looks like a provoked silverback in his enclosure. About the beat his chest.

He turns to guffaw laughter and sneer with his friends.

When you speak it’s so reed thin it even makes a shiver run up Eddie’s spine. Slices of jagged metal.

And he’s not even on the receiving end of this frightening ire of yours. The one that’s bursting out of you like raw lightning. Like it can’t fathomably contain you. Love and fierce packed rage tight in situ.

“This…” You remark with a clenched fist. Thumb wrapped over your knuckles.

Your nail polish glints blue in the light like steely-inky beetle wings. Your eyes barely smother down live-wires. Danger, danger.

You thought about how they would’ve laughed at him.

Kicked him into the dirt like wet leaves and muck that drifts off the trees in fall.

How they would have laid into him and left him there. On the floor. Blood soaked.

Shown the freak who’s in charge.

It flashes when you rear your arm back. Putting full force into your right shoulder, feet taking a firm stance. You channel everything you have into this fearsome right hook;

You swing your fist straight into Jonnys face.

It’s powerful enough to hear a loud crack, you feel the blow shudder into bone. Catching his nose, which spurts blood.

He recoils and staggers. Knocked off balance. Sound punctured out his mouth. Clutching his bleeding face as red streams drip on his pretty white shoes. Stains his pristine uniform. Good.

Try explaining that one to mommy and daddy dearest.

You don’t even let him swing back around. You grab the shoulder of his disgusting sopping jersey and ball it in your hand. Using that as leverage to drive your knee high - hard - into his balls.

Before you let him slump to the floor in a bleeding pile of sweat glazed limbs. You mutter words just for him to take caution of.

“Come near me or Eddie again, and believe me I will break your goddamn jaw, Lopez.”

You let him crumple this time. Flag to the floor in a heap of collapsing bones and sweaty jock uniform.

He looks up at you, trembling. Blood skirting down his arms and past his cupped palm. Tears streak down his cheeks. You step back and let him crumple.

He’s spitting and snarling crude insults in between wails of pain, and a sticky mouthful that smears his teeth red, and stains his tongue with metal.

“You broke my nose, you crazy fuckin’ bitch.” He spits. It sounds wet. Words sluiced in crimson.

“Finally. A nickname I can warm too.” You scathe.

When you look up, guys around him flinched back a good few paces in case they fell into the category of your rage. Wariness edging their expression. Eyes wide and mouths caught suspended open, like brain dead guppies at feeding time.

Eddie stepped forwards and gently laid his hand on your shaking arm. His fingers urge you closer. Get you following him to haul ass outta there.

You scan the room and find Linda gaping at you just as dumbly as everyone else. She’s risen to a stand. Face like she’s just swallowed a painful poison pill. Apparently in no rush whatsoever to get to her boyfriend.

“It’s ok. I’m done here.” You tell him. Gritting your teeth. Meeting Linda’s eyes.

You turn and walk away. Back to this whole affair Amazed how scarily easy it is. Leaving your supposed friendship in the dust. Bleeding crumpled on that floor.

You feel an enormous sense of relief walking out that gym.

Your hand killing you. No doubt about it. Shooting mad red hot fireworks up and down your forearm. Your knuckles feel like hell. Sparking furious with pain.

You reach for Eddie’s hand anyway. Screw the pain. You slip your fingers into his. Turn and catch his eyes.

He’s watching you with so much cautionary care and concern.

You breathe. Lungs shivering around new calm air. Words come easy but you feel shaky with them.

“C’mon. Let’s go get you something for that eye.”

He agrees with a nod. Then that hopping spark that’s truly skated in usual Munson mischief, comes springing back full force into his eyes. Lovely happy bourbon again.

“Wouldn’t dare refuse you, Pencils. Not after seeing what you’re capable of.” He grins. Nudging you with a shoulder to get a smile out of you.

“Damn right. Those idiots just cost us a date night. He deserved all that and more.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” He smiles. Eyes still stuck on your face.

He lopes alongside you. Hand clutched in yours. Shoulder rolling to yours. It feels whole. It feels like trust.

You sit in Eddie’s van in the parking lot of the Fair Mart. Despite your protestations, he fully insisted he was fine to drive. He rolled into park out front just about as the sun began to set.

The night started to pull in. All lilac and periwinkle skies, soft as a vintage eiderdown that made you think of bluebirds feathers as you watched that solemn shade of blue overtake the sky.

Making the all too yellow lights within the dingy place stand out proud. Blinking a little. Humming along with the huge freezers inside. All the twee touches of home made signs telling you about the canned goods on offer. Written on card with flicky show-manly italics. Some easy friendly music sparkles out the speakers.

The plump clerk is smiling and jolly and bubbly bright, even when you unload for a whole armful of some medical supplies on the counter. Eyeing your now purpling knuckles with sparky perception. Ringing things up, you throw in a bag of jolly ranchers and a couple of ice cold cans - they suggest a rattling jar of aspirin.

“Take away the sting, honey.” He wafts a knowing hand. “That’ll be $11.90.”

You pay with a watery smile and walk out with a paper bag full. It crinkles in your arms as you go back to Eddie. Who’s sat with his legs dangling out the driver side of his van. Fidgeting with his rings all skittish. Legs swinging to an invisible tune. Still Rattlehead, actually.

You’re the only people in the place. Talk about lulled and sleepy Hawkins. This clearly isn’t a place for two teenagers on a Friday night. They’re all off sucking face at the quarry or skull rock. Or gathering at the arcade.

You come back and get to work cleaning him up.

Lump the bag down beside him, close to his hip, and you stand between his spread legs. Hand fiddling with your belt loop so carefully. He feels you gently brush sweeps of his bangs off his forehead to get at his skin and smudge away a bit of dirt. He lets you. Sat there and losing himself in his gazing.

He winced a little when you gently dabbed some antiseptic cream on the cut at his cheek.

“There’s Jolly ranchers in there you know.” You supply.

“Is that a bribe for me to sit still?” He checks. “Cause it will definitely work.” He dives his hand into the crinkly paper and searches for the candy. He finds one and holds it in his palm until you’re done.

“Who, um.” He swallows. Looking too intently at his ripped jean kneecap. “Who taught you how to—“

You draw back and let him find his words. Let him come to you with it.

“Who taught me how to throw a punch?” You smile.

Still dabbing his cheek. Fingers slipped under his chin and tilting his head up to you. When he could stay still enough.

“My sister. She bought me self defence lessons after-“ The words die and wither up all grey and ashen in your mouth.

You break eye contact for a second and rub at your brow.

It slowly creeps over his head like some dreadful tide. After what?-

Eddie knows he doesn’t like the look settling over your features. One bit. He doesn’t care for it at all.

“It was the summer before junior year. Around the time Linda and Jonny started dating. We went to this party. She didn’t want to go alone so I was roped in. Dressed me in one of her stupid mini skirts, planned to set me up with one of his buddies, Alex.” You pause and chew over the words.

“It was stupid as shit, looking back now, but we got so stupid drunk. Teen freedoms and lite beer. We thought we were so cool. So much so I didn’t notice that my drink was spiked with something. I don’t even know what. All I can remember is just, blackness, and then waking up with Alex sliding his hand up my skirt.”

Eddie blinks. Shuts his eyes for a second. His voice sounds so far away. “Shit. Pencils.” He rasps. Upset and angry on your behalf. He looks more hurt than all those bruises scattering his face.

“Nothing else happened. I screamed blue murder, and shoved him off me and just turned tail and got the hell out of dodge. Walked miles home in heels til I got blisters all over. Charlie was so so pissed. First time I’ve ever seen my Mom go full apocalyptic angry.” You explain.

“She wanted to bring charges but Alex’s family lived on Loch Nora, and his dad was a bigwig in local council so naturally he just chalked it up to underage kids having too much drink and touting it around town that a ‘misunderstanding’ occurred. Transferred their golden boy to a private school. And it just got, quietly swept away.” You accept.

All the pieces slowly floated and formed together to clarity in Eddie’s head.

“Linda stayed with Jonny even after all that shit you went through…” He asks. You nod.

“Stuck like glue.” You infer.

He can’t stand it any longer. wraps his arms around you fully and tugs you into a bold hug. Burying his face in your chest. Listening to the tick of your heart, and feeling you hold him back. Smiling and pressing a kiss to the wild nest of his hair. He smelled like sour-sweet green apple shampoo and earthy papery leaves.

“I’m so sorry.” He rumbled into your arm. His hug says so much more than that.

I’m here and I’m not leaving. Whatever you need - I’ll give it. Carve it out of my chest because you own every piece of me - in full.

“Not your fault, Eddie. I stopped being mad a while ago.” You tell him. Pressing another kiss to his head.

That’s why he’d been so unsuccessful in being able to stop you today. Because you’d let one bout of assault go, like hell were you about to let that happen all over again. And not to him. Drew some blood of your own to partially settle an old debt. To quiet some old violent ghosts.

He lets go of you and plonks the red wrapped jolly rancher in your right hand.

“I think you need and deserve this more than I do. And I’ll keep on being mad on your behalf - if that’s ok.” He says honestly. Fingers slithering through yours. He twists your hand over and sees the bruises wrapping around your knuckles.

You smile.

“I’ll take that.” You answer in reply to his offer. “The candy and that kind offer.”

Cause this is exactly what you need. Him. Him in all his unusual and funky glory.

Metal head with a heart so pure you’re actually certain it is made of solid gold. He whom proclaims to the world he’s nothing but a devil worshipping Satanist, made up of cynical death metal, and pot smoke.

Yet, he’s the guy who puts wrapped candy in your hand. Plies you with kisses and tried to hard to keep you out of tumbling headlong into trouble for his sake. Wanted to take you for a greasy burger and just share every silent soaked moment with you. No matter what you’re doing as long as you’re shoulder to shoulder.

He’s springing up before you can stop him. Sits you in the seat he occupied and told you firmly to ‘wait here, toots.’

Then, he’s scampering across the grocery store lot all jangly jacket and mad frizzy rocker hair bouncing as he goes. The soft pad of his feet on the doormat and the swish of the door he pushes open.

He drifts around the aisle for a few minutes before you see the top of his head bounce as he jaunts to the checkout and pay with a load of coins and a crumpled bill dug out his pocket.

He’s out the doors and whirling back to you in no time at all.

Hand on his ribs as he winced and realised that moving around all silly like he normally does would have its consequences. Ode to a bruise.

He comes over and crouched in front of you. Proudly showing you his purchases. He holds them up like he’s won an award.

bag of frozen peas and a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

“For you, my most dangerous slash badass weirdo.” He grins. Even under that black eye, and the cut limned with purple across the bridge of that nose, his brightness and joy is infectious.

He takes your hand and you smile as he settles the peas on it. Settles his hand on top of it and stays crouched. Looking up at you with literal stars in his eyes.

You’re hit with such a fierce wave of love it shocks you from the inside out. Punching into your ribs and mangling and mashing your heart and lungs together with something that burns all mean like static. Words trip off your tongue like a smudge of sugar. You feel drunk on them; fever and maddening realisation in a shockwave.

You put your hand over his. Ice cold and shifting crunch on the bag.

“Eddie, you’re free tonight right?”

“Well the beauty pageant will have to take a hike with these shiners.” He plays. Tilts his head.

“What would you say if I asked you to spend the night?” You check.

His brain seems to crunch and churn through the cogs to answer.

“The night?” His eyebrows almost swoop up and disappear into his bangs.

“Not sure your mom would be too wild about that.” He says.

“She’s in San Francisco. Short haul. Not back til Monday.”

“Oh.” Eddie nods. And then it hits him.

“O h.”

You keep eye contact and smile. “I'm game. What’s say you, Munson?”

“Holy shit. Pencils.” He wets his lips. Grinning.

T A G S darlings

@ceriseheaven @indouloureux @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @greenishghostey @svenyves @sammararave @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @morganamoonstone @ramona-thorns @gvtosbith @munsonswhore @munsonlov3r @lunatictardis @shenevertricks1831

@hazzaismyreligion @harrys-titties @anaisweird @cerinthussulpicia @cinnamoncunt @thincrusttheworks @manicpixiedreamcurl @therosietoesy @fanficappreciationblog @thicksexxualtension @tvserie-s-world @sharp-and-swift @dadsbongos

@edsforehead @chcolateeyelver @seven-glass-kids @forever-is-not-for-everyone @quinnsmunson @bkish @wyverntatty @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @churchmuffins @chickpeadumpsterfire @choke-me-eddie @prozacandnicotine @xeddiesbattattsx @s-u-t @alyssaaaaa-r @wayward-rose @usedtobecooler

360 notes · View notes

shortnotsweet · 11 months

Text

growing pains

It’s only been nine years. They’re not in their thirties yet—and won’t be for a while—but it’s worth noting that things are different. Maybe it’s them, maybe it’s the boardwalk, or maybe—well. Logan is a different person than when he was a high schooler. He’s less assured than he was. That could be it. Louise is almost certainly different than she was then, but even now she still hates his guts. Maybe some things don’t change after all.

Notes Transcription

Main Episode Outfit Variations

Louise would be into layering, I think. She’s multifaceted, practical, and resourceful. Harsh structure in conjunction with more layered pieces; tendency towards color blocking, but she keeps it sharp. She’d be into casual, pragmatic clothes. If not very structured, she has loose-fitting, draped fabrics like sweatshirts or heavy pants (cargo material, corduroy, denim?)—draped and bulked, but not baggy. Something easy to run and move in; sneakers or combat boots.

Not opposed to dresses. Keeps it compact, simple lines. No frills but does lean into triangle shapes or rectangular blocks. Color blocking => neutrals will take up negative space, highlight colors are accented.

Sticks to main colors (green and pink) for consistency, but relies on neutrals like beige, black, and brown. Less cool-toned than Tina, either spring or autumn coloring. Bright colors are muted with exception of a highlight, usually pink (hat or laces). Green varies from lime to olive to sage to forest, etc. whichever tone is appropriate.

Occasional purple or blue in reference to the snowball fight/sled episode with Logan (he was in blue, Louise was in purple). Louise could lean into purple (imposing, mysterious, feminine but still intimidating) for off-episodes. Not frequent, though; too similar to Tina’s color palette.

Hairstyle options include braids, pigtails, or just loose. I’m growing partial to braids; they feel utilitarian, almost boyish, useful. Could emulate the bunny ears under the cap.

Beanie vs. Baseball Cap. I like the beanie, but to me it lends to this aspect of laziness? Not the worst, but i like the structure and sharpness of the baseball cap. Also obscures the eyes occasionally, or could be worn backwards.

Timeline + Basis

Loosely, 9 years post-canon timeline (ambiguous). Louise is 18, Logan is 25. The age gap is too big for them to feasibly be in high school together, so the second storyboard shot by the lockers is him visiting the high school for some errand (maybe Cynthia needs him to deliver something, maybe he’s got a younger sibling by now?), Louise passes by him in the hallway and doesn’t move to accommodate him (almost slams into his shoulder) and he almost looks back at her but continues on. He recognizes her when he visits the diner, which he later frequents because it’s one of the closest places in town that has good food that’s affordable and keeps him out of the house.

That’s one of the reasons, anyway. He isn’t conscious of it, although Gene picks up on it early on an often gloats to either Louise or Logan, both of whom are baffled or irritated at first. Linda is overly supportive of the idea to the point of humiliation, Bob doesn’t want to think about it and refuses to see it, and Tina writes extremely detailed romance novel drafts about it.

Logan becomes ‘aware’ in the following year, then feels really gross about it and avoids the diner for months until confronted (member of the family is up for debate). Realistically, nothing ‘tangible’ happens between them for three years (kiss? Weird face touch? Jealous outburst? Freudian slip? Something fun, idk [Louise: 22, Logan 29]).

I think Louise regresses at this point, and tries to distance herself like that episode of iCarly when Sam realizes she’s in love with Freddy and literally institutionalizes herself in a mental ward. Very much LALALALALALALALALA I can’t hear you, that didn’t happen. Logan is not feeling great at this point. Heart-to-heart with Bob snaps her out of it.

One more year of slow burn, actual relationship starts (Louise: 23, Logan 30).

Logan gets married, eventually, in his early thirties. Gene is an unintentional omnipresent narrator.

Additional Notes

Keep Logan in primary colors (mostly red or blue), but keep him out of dark neutrals/monotones (no black or charcoal gray), because it’s too heavy of a countermeasure against Louise’s color blocking—too unbalanced.

Decent height difference, although it varies depending on Louise’s shoes (sneakers or platform boots, she’s usually in sneakers in the restaurant). She’s right over his shoulder (?)

Concept comparison of them both around the ages 14-16 are for comparison only. Their ages do not coincide.

Occasional pet names, always mockingly derogatory.

Montage shots of her leaning over the counter while they talk. He used to sit in the booth seats but eventually began sitting at the counter instead. No reason. It means he can talk to her more easily and bother her with less effort.

They’re the kind of couple who publicly argues over the pronunciation of ‘egg’ type beat. Bickering keeps it exciting for them, but they make it a point to apologize in any serious disagreements, usually by the end of the episode. Similar difficulty in admitting when they’re wrong, often attempt to compromise by sharing/taking on blame in some equal capacity. Sometimes this is healthy, sometimes it’s more de-facto.

Mother-in-law beef goes crazy

#louigan #bobs burgers #louise belcher #louise x logan #logan bush #basically logan visits hometown after living some life and getting his education. it’s a little under a decade later and he likes to think #he’s changed for the better #but seeing his childhood home has changed so much unsettles him somehow. at least his archnemesis still hates his guts #for now anyway. gene hasn’t forgotten about his reduction from he was eleven. sure the timings off #but Logan and Louise are going to reconnect and then get married. they’re just a little ahead of a schedule it looks like #my art

118 notes · View notes

ladykailitha · 2 years

Text

Star Child Part 2

Everyone loved the first part so much I thought I’d throw up the second one today as a treat.

This part is a little heavy, Steve talks about what happened to the Kings and it’s not pretty, so a warning for content.

Part 1

Eddie managed to shower and change and get down to the bar with barely a minute to spare. His hair is a little damp but there was no getting around that not if he wanted to be on time.

He had changed into more comfortable jeans, and put on a long-sleeved mesh crop top, and a denim vest over that. He pulled on a pair of combat boots to finish off the look.

He fussed with his hair as he scanned the crowd. And then he spotted him. Steve Harrington. Dressed in tight leather pants and a plain white t-shirt and matching sneaks.

Eddie’s brain nearly blue screened again. Fuck. It looked good on him.

He muscled his way through the crowd to stand in front of Steve.

“Hey!” Steve greeted warmly. “You made it!”

He turned and ordered them a couple of bottles of beer.

Eddie shrugged. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

Steve matched his shrug with one of his own. “After how hard you guys rocked tonight, I don’t think I would have been able to do anything but crash. Especially since you guys did practically two sets tonight.”

He handed Eddie a bottle and took the other one for himself.

Eddie smiled. “Nah, we’re good. We often party afterwards.”

“To each their own, man,” Steve shaking his head and then took a sip of his beer.

Eddie laughed. “I think it would ruin people’s image of you if you went out partying after shows. Your main appeal is your hometown, boy next door, have your daughter home by nine kind of guy.”

Steve half shrugged. “Some days it chafes.”

“Is that why you chose to do a metal version of an alt rock song featuring the daughter of the king of pop?” Eddie asked with a wink.

Steve laughed. “Something like that.”

Eddie bit his lip for a moment. “Have you thought about branching out? Becoming more like Timberlake than Styles?”

“Moving outside the genre that catapulted me to stardom you mean?” Steve asked.

“Why not? People have been successful at it before,” Eddie reminded him. “Because, dude, if pop music chafes, stop doing it.”

“Maybe after this last album,” Steve said. “I’m under contract for one more and then maybe I’ll color outside the lines.”

Eddie nodded. Contracts were a bitch. “So you talk with the Kings anymore?” he asked to fill the silence that had stretched between them after that conversation stopper.

Steve barked out a bitter laugh. “Billy died from an overdose about a year after we broke up. Tommy is in jail for beating his wife, Carol right before the Grammy’s last year. And Jonathan is dating my ex, and my agent tells me that there are wedding bells on the horizon. So no. I don’t speak to them anymore.”

“Holy shit!” Eddie said. “What the hell happened?”

“We were underage when we became famous,” Steve murmured. “So our parents took control of everything the first couple of years and pushed us too hard. Jonathan was the only one to survive because his mom made sure his dad couldn’t touch shit and shielded him from the worst the business had to offer.”

“You including yourself in the parents are shit pile?” Eddie asked.

“My parents were the worst because they looked respectable,” Steve said, “But both of them are among the worst people to walk this planet.”

“There’s a story there,” Eddie said, bumping into Steve shoulder, “come on. Spill.”

Steve looked around him and then leaned in so only Eddie could hear. “They tried to have me committed when I didn’t want to do what they wanted.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Seriously, the fuck?”

Steve nodded. “Nearly succeeded, too. If it wasn’t for my best friend intervening and becoming my manager. Robin saved my life.” He sighed heavily and looked down at his beer.

“You know what you need right now?” Eddie asked with a big grin.

“What’s that?” Steve cocked his head to the side.

“To let loose on the dance floor!”

Eddie grabbed his hand and led him out to the middle of floor and began dancing.

Steve laughed and then joined in. Letting his worries slide away with the beat of the music.

Eddie kept going back to the bar for liquid courage to ask this beautiful boy if he would come back to his hotel room with him. But after the fourth shot and third beer, Eddie was too tipsy for anything even to close to sex, much less standing upright.

As Steve found out as he tried to get the front man back to his hotel room. Eddie was all over Steve, giggling and shoving his hair in his mouth.

Steve shook his head, a fond smile on his face. He managed to get them to his room without either of them falling down.

“You’re very pretty,” Eddie giggled.

Steve laughed, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “You, on the other hand, is absolutely gorgeous.”

Eddie blushed deeply.

“Where is your hotel key, dude?” Steve asked.

“Pocket!” Eddie pressed his lips together and batted his eyelashes at him.

“Which one?” Steve asked.

Eddie just leaned forward for a kiss and Steve dodged, patting down the pockets in the vest with no luck, finding only the man’s car keys.

He reached around to feel up Eddie’s back pockets, looking for the wallet and trying very hard not to linger.

Eddie only made the temptation that much harder when he canted his hips into Steve’s, seeking friction.

Steve had to close his eyes and take deep breath. His hands slid to the front of Eddie’s pants and found the wallet in the right pocket, his cell phone in his left.

“Why don’t you have your wallet in your back pocket like a normal person?” Steve asked, chuckling.

“Thiefy heads trying to steal it, so usually on a chain, but going to unknown bar went for front pocket instead.”

Steve smiled at him. “Duly noted.” He opened the wallet, fishing out the key card and opened the door. He half carried the very drunk Eddie to the bed and flopped him face first into the covers.

Steve put his hands on his hips and looked around at the suite. It had it’s own sitting room and a door that led to a large bathroom complete with a Jacuzzi style bathtub. “Damn, Robin is slacking, if this the is kind of room your manager can get for you.”

Eddie rolled over on his back and looked up at Steve with a grin. “And I don’t hafta share!”

“You are a menace, Munson,” Steve murmured. He began unlacing the boots and pulled them off. “Come on, get under the covers, you dork.”

Eddie leaned up and crooked his finger at Steve. Steve leaned forward.

“Not dork, nerd!” he whispered and giggled. But before Steve could straighten up, Eddie grabbed him and pulled him on the bed.

Steve laughed.

Eddie kissed him, but Steve managed to get away.

“Why...” Eddie huffed, pouting.

Steve booped his nose. “Because I have it on very good authority that you won’t remember this in the morning and I want you to remember.”

Eddie grumbled as Steve pulled the blankets over him.

Steve put Eddie’s boots by the door and put the keys, phone, and wallet on the small table next to the sofa.

Eddie mumbled something and Steve went over to the bed to make out what he was saying.

“Who’s authority? Who says I won’t remember. I could, you don’t know.”

Steve brushed Eddie’s hair out his face and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Mine.”

Steve slipped out the door to a snoring Eddie.

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Tag List: @bejeweledbaby @avacrebs @eboyawstenn @moonshadows-13 @goodolefashionedloverboi @linkydinky06 @ohlook-afrog @livelaughlexa @spectrum-spectre @cutepumpkin4 @whatthemeepever

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #rockstar au #song fic #ladykailtiha writes

417 notes · View notes

yutahoes · 3 months

Text

Caramel

(Part Six)

characters: stripper! Yuta x female! wealthy! Y/N genre: chaptered, smut, FLUFF, angst word count: 3.6k words summary: Y/N has everything in her bitter life, not until she meets a sweet-looking stripper. warnings: matured theme, stripper au!, third person POV, mention of self-harm, description of some sexual fantasies (I don't know how to put it), alcohol consumption, mentioned bullying taglist: @cherrymotodude@tenjyucat @justsomekpopstuff @ilhoonseyeballs

Part Five

“Yuta, are you leaving early?” Johnny asked, sitting on the bar with a drink in his hand. “Let’s drink a little.”

The guy mentioned shook his head, claiming he had to leave first. “Hey, do you think I look fine?” Both Johnny and Ten stared at each other and then at Yuta. “Do I look like I dressed too much?” He started brushing the back of his fingers on his plain white shirt covered by a black leather jacket. “Should I change clothes? It’s too plain, right?”

“Are you going on a date, hyung?” Ten asked, smiling teasingly.

Yuta hissed to himself, maybe he had prepared too much. Should he ditch the leather jacket? Change it with a denim jacket instead? “It’s just breakfast.” The two nodded knowingly as he removed the black jacket and wore the blue one instead. “Johnny you’ve been to that new coffee house downtown, right? Is the food there worth it?”

Taeyong was just chuckling as he tapped his friend’s shoulder. “Just go, Yuta. She’ll like it there.” Johnny was giving Taeyong a ‘who?’ look but the other just smiled at them. “Don’t be too nervous.”

“I’m not nervous!” Yuta shouted as he headed outside the door.

The ride to the coffee house was short but somehow his nerves were betraying him. This isn’t a date. It’s just breakfast. He’s not even nervous. He shouldn’t be.

But as minutes passed by, he started getting anxious. Where is she? She did confirm that they’d meet today and that she knew where the coffee shop was. Is she lost? Should he call her? Before he could take the phone out of his pocket, he recognized the midnight blue car parking in front of the shop. She’s here. Y/N went out in dark jeans and a light purple blouse, wearing dark-rimmed eyeglasses and a ponytail.

Yuta had to blink in disbelief. He’s going to have breakfast with this gorgeous woman? He must really have saved a planet in his past life.

“Sorry, I’m late,” She whispered, putting her keys in her crossbody bag. “I woke up late.” Yuta opened the door for her, “Have you been waiting for long?”

He shook his head, smiling. “I just got here.” The staff by the counter obviously caught his bluff as a faint smile can be seen on her face. She had been eyeing him since he came outside the shop a couple of minutes ago. “I hope you haven’t had breakfast yet.” She shook her head, smiling. “Then order anything you like.”

The girl nodded before pushing her glasses up. Yuta licked his bottom lip, that was hot. He shook his head. Why is he so easily turned on this early morning? “I'll have an espresso, double shot.”

“Would you like cream or sugar on the side?” The cashier asked but she shook her head. Isn’t that too bitter? “Any breakfast meal, ma’am?” Y/N glanced at Yuta who only nodded at her, asking her what she wanted to eat. The girl read the meals before ordering buttered toast, “And what will you have, sir?”

I want this woman beside me, Yuta hissed at the thought. What a pervert. He started ordering a Caramel Macchiato drink before Y/N’s phone rang. She excused herself to take the call and he nodded, following her with a look. He also ordered a chicken sandwich and some pancakes.

The coffee shop doesn’t have too many customers, maybe because it’s still early. Yuta didn’t even have a problem securing a seat by the window, looking over to the girl by the washing area who was talking on her phone. Y/N started walking to where he was, still talking on the phone. “...I promised you we’ll meet next week, right?” He heard her say, helping her with her chair and she lightly thanked him. “Yes Junyoung, I love you too.” That made him glare. Who is she talking on the phone with? Is she dating someone? Junyoung? When the girl put down her phone, she sighed. “My brother is so clingy.”

“Your brother?”

She nodded, “My youngest brother.” Yuta’s face lit up. It’s not a boyfriend but a brother. “I forgot to pay…”

He shook his head, pushing back her wallet. “I said it’s my treat.”

“Great night?” Yuta shook his head, sighing. “Why? Is there something wrong with the club?”

“There’s a new nightclub that opened and they have younger dancers.” Oh, Y/N thought, that’s why there were a few people in the club the two nights prior. “Business is pretty tame lately,” she nodded, then pushed her glasses up once again. “Nice glasses, by the way.”

She smiled, removing the glasses while blinking. “I forgot my contact…”

“What happened to your eyes?” Quickly, she wore the glasses and avoided Yuta’s stare. “Did you cry?”

Y/N just flashed him a small smile while shaking her head. Their orders came and Y/N was surprised at the variety of foods on their table. She thanked the waitress for handing her the cup of dark coffee. The smell seemed to calm her and even if it was still hot, she took a small sip. Dark. Rich. Bitter coffee.

As bitter as her life.

“Are you alright?” Yuta asked, which made her turn to him in surprise. “You really don’t want any sugar or cream?” Oh, that was what he meant. She was worried for a second that he'd make her cry with that question. “I have some caramel here if you want.” Beside his coffee cup was a small plate of some light brown goo.

“I like my coffee bitter.” She answered in a soft voice. As bitter as my life, she thought.

Yuta just nodded. Suddenly, it feels awkward. He shouldn’t have pointed it out. But why are her eyes so bloodshot? It’s obvious that she cried last night. But why? Is he even in the position to ask why? He should shrug it off, she evidently doesn’t even want to talk about it. Her actions are very weird as if she was calculating her every move. Maybe it’s a bad idea to ask her out today. When she reached for the pancake syrup on the edge of the table, he saw a small graze on her wrist. Is she hurting herself?

Y/N quickly retracted her hand. She knew Yuta saw the small cut and she didn’t want him to ask about it. “So, a new club rival?” She started, “Then what is your club doing to attract the customers back?” Yuta was only staring at her, glaring if she could describe it better. Please don’t ask anything, she begged in her mind. She doesn’t want to cry in this coffee shop. She doesn’t want someone to know these thoughts of her.

Yuta shrugged. “I think the manager is just happy that both Johnny and Taeyong are still working in the club.” Y/N was thankful that he answered her question and focused on eating. Yuta, on the other hand, was just annoyed. He wanted to do something, to know what happened. But if she doesn’t want to, he cannot force her, right? Maybe he should just make her feel comfortable for the time being. “Maybe the older women are tired of older men dancing and want to experience younger studs for their fantasies.”

The girl giggled, making Yuta smile. Let’s cheer her up a little bit, Yuta. “You know how older women fantasize about pizza guys and pool boys, right? Younger guys,” he claimed with a shrug.

“Oh my God,” she exclaimed, shaking the image off her head. Yuta chuckled playfully and was about to say something when she took a forkful of pancake and put it in the guy’s mouth. “I don’t want to imagine it.” She whined. She took another piece of pancake, using the same fork, and ate it.

Yuta licked his lips. They used the same fork. An indirect kiss. But why was he so giddy when they kissed before? God, his perverted mind. There really isn’t a cure for him. “If they scout the majority of our dancers, we might just close down.”

The girl lightly bit her fork, thinking deeply. “Then why don’t you change your marketing style?” The guy gave her a confused look, “The other club markets their young dancers, why don’t you market yours as the mature type?” Yuta nodded, listening intently to her. “They give the pizza guy and pool boy experience so why don’t you give the same experience but at a different level? A higher-status level?” She truly is a businesswoman. That was what Yuta thought while listening to her idea of marketing the club to rich, younger women rather than the older ones.

“You do realize that older women make up the stripper market?” he countered. “The traditional busy chairman’s wife pays a lot.”

“But have you realized that younger women need the stripper market more?” she leaned on the table closer to him. “The newly married women who still don’t want to leave their wild, single life behind.”

Yuta smiled. He never thought talking about business could be interesting. She drummed her fingers on the table, thinking deeply. “Your club can make a classy event to earn more younger clients.”

“An event?”

“Where you market yourself and the services that you could do.” She explained that made him nod.

Honestly, that was a nice idea. “Both Taeyong and Johnny would be great at that and I can already imagine the money coming from just the two of them.”

“I think you’ll be great at it as well.”

Yuta laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not good at marketing.”

The girl shook her head, smiling. “Nonsense. I work in marketing so I know everyone can sell anything.”

Yuta shook his head. He knew he can’t. She drank her coffee and he only looked at her in wonder. “Isn’t that too bitter?” The girl chuckled at his worried look. She’s a real coffee enjoyer, no doubt.

“Then try it. Sell me this caramel.” The guy stared, confused. “Why should I put caramel in my coffee?”

“Because it adds sweetness to the coffee.”

“I prefer a bitter coffee.” Her tone was challenging. Yuta didn’t know whether to feel amused or offended that she was trying to prove her point. But with that smile on her face, he felt weak. He wanted to make her laugh at this moment. Wanted her to feel the same way as he was currently feeling, immensely attracted.

Yuta took the small spoon and scooped some of the gooey caramel from the small plate. “Well, caramel is essentially burned sugar.” he started. “This has a hint of bitterness and since you prefer bitter coffee,” she nodded, “It gives that balance of something you prefer and something that you don’t really like, sweetness. You can change your preference easily just by adding caramel.”

Y/N hummed as an answer, nodding at him. The guy seemed to think deeply, “Sugar gives you an energy boost, it can also make you happy.”

“Caramel can do that?” Y/N inquired which made the guy nod.

She stared at the dark coffee and the orangey goo on the plate. It balances the sweetness and bitterness. It gives an energy boost. It can also give happiness. “I also read somewhere that it can reduce your stress level, something about serotonin.” The guy supplied that made her smile lightly. Reduces stress level. “Come on, Y/N, caramel isn’t that bad. It’s actually pretty indulgent.”

Indulgent. She took the small spoon and scooped some of the caramel, pouring it on her coffee. She mixed it with her spoon, the coffee turning lighter in color. The smell is still coffee but with the tinge of something sickeningly sweet.

Y/N took a small sip. Then another. “How is it?” Yuta asked, staring curiously at her.

Caramel.

“I think you just sold caramel.” The guy laughed wholeheartedly, smiling widely at her.

Maybe she just needed some caramel in her bitter life.

—---

“Why don’t you just ask a driver to pick you up?” Y/N asked as her brother greeted her from the airport lounge. “Do you think I’m your personal driver or something?”

Jungwoo laughed, handing her paper bags with luxurious fashion names written as logos. “Doyoung hyung said you’re already outside.” he reasoned before raising an eyebrow at her. “Why? Did I interrupt something?” Y/N hated that Jungwoo was smart. Well, not that smart. She still thinks Doyoung is the smartest among the Kim siblings. Jungwoo is more intuitive than smart. “Were you on a date?”

The two put the luggage on the backseat of the car and took their respective seats: Y/N on the driver’s side and Jungwoo on the passenger seat. The girl had to check her phone before starting to drive. Yuta's name appeared on the notification bar with the message ‘Have you met Jungwoo? Be safe driving.’

“You were on a date with Yuta?” Jungwoo asked while giggling. “Yuta, the bought but not paid one-night stand. Yuta who gave his number but didn’t message back?” Was she telling Jungwoo things about Yuta? How did her brother know those things? Maybe the intuitive side is kicking in. Or he’s just plain nosy.

So she just started telling him about how Yuta was mugged and that she gave him a phone to use. Y/N didn’t forget to tell her brother that it was just breakfast and not a date as he claimed. “Is that your whole relationship now? You’re his sugar mommy?”

Sugar mommy? She also heard that term from Yuta. Is that what she was doing? But there’s nothing wrong with spoiling a man who listens to her, a man who drinks with her, and brings her home safely. A handsome man who smells and tastes so sweet. “Am I doing something wrong, Jungwoo?”

The man beside her just smiled before shaking his head. “Well, you’re not hurting anyone. Is he bothered about your gifts?” Y/N shrugged. He might be. “But every time I see you with Yuta, you seem lighter.” Lighter? The girl stared at her brother in confusion, “I don’t know how to term it correctly but you look happier. Your aura,” he gestured to her whole body. “Is always lighter with him.”

“If Yuta isn’t bothered by it all, you should keep on seeing him.” he suggested, “Besides he’s handsome, hot, and very sweet.” Jungwoo pointed at her phone screen that had Yuta’s message notification, ‘Message me if you reach home. I’ll wait for your message.’

Yuta makes her aura lighter. Yuta makes her happier. Yuta is sweet. She might also connect it with him potentially being her sugar baby.

Can Yuta be the caramel Y/N needed in her bitter life?

—----

Yuta was watching as Johnny graced the stage, swaying his body along the sensual music for that one regular in the audience. A woman in her late forties, a well-known doctor’s wife who wanted some good time. His friend could easily do this in the private room but she didn’t order a private dance from the stripper, she was a regular customer. The only customer. “It’s really bad.” The manager claimed, making both Yuta and Ten nod. “Even Taeyong isn’t getting the same number of clients.”

“Hyung, shouldn’t we change our audience?” Yuta suggested, staring at the manager owning the club. “Instead of older women, let the club attract the younger women.”

The older man crossed his arms, looking at the younger sternly. “Yah Yuta, have you lost your mind? Older women have more money, they're more willing to spend their useless money on you.” He let out a little laugh that annoyed Yuta, “You can’t even charm an older woman, what makes you think you can charm…?”

“Excuse me,” The three guys turned to the owner of the voice. Y/N was smiling, handing some bills to the guy standing. “For Yuta, please.” Ten laughed and the older man left, counting the money she gave. “You let your boss talk to you like that? If that was me, I’d probably be fired from the company.”

“Your family owns the company,” Yuta claimed, which made the bartender wide-eyed. “What are you doing here? It’s Wednesday.”

The girl sat on the high chair beside him, facing Ten who asked her if she wanted some drinks. “Give me a light alcoholic drink that kicks in the more you drink.” The bartender chuckled at her specific description and then nodded playfully. “It’s stressful in the company so I wanted to drink. And Ten makes the best drinks in town.” The mentioned guy gave her a look of gratitude and she smiled at him.

“You and Ten match well with each other,” Yuta whispered, shaking his head. “Ten, can you make me a non-alcoholic drink? I think I have to drive a drunk woman home.”

Y/N laughed at that. “A driver will pick me up, don’t worry.” She then called for Ten, “Give Yuta the same drink as mine but with stronger alcohol. I want to see him drunk.”

Yuta had to shake his head. She hadn’t sipped a drink yet but she seemed drunk already. “You seem like you’re in a good mood.” The girl shook her head whispering that it was the contrary. “What happened?” But she only smiled at him.

The girl turned her chair to watch the man dancing on stage. “It’s already this bad?” She asked and Yuta nodded. “That’s Mrs. Hall, isn’t she?” Wait, Y/N knows her? “Her husband is our family doctor.” She’s on a different level really. The drinks were sent to them and she took small sips, nodding. “If the club closes, can I just hire you as a personal bartender, Ten?” Yuta shook his head at that, there was clearly something wrong with Y/N. Yet he doubts she’ll tell him anything.

The guy just watched as she ordered her third glass of alcohol. Why does she like to drink too much? Is she an alcoholic? What’s weird is that she kept on talking to the bartender and not him. When Taeyong was done with his service, Yuta introduced the two and in her drunken state started talking to Taeyong about how handsome he was and that he looked like an anime character.

Johnny, who also finished his performance, was just laughing at the drunk girl after she downed her fifth glass. “Okay, I’ll drive her home,” Yuta claimed, taking her shoulder bag and wearing it on his shoulder. “I’ll pay you when I get back, Ten.” He helped her stand up, holding her by the waist.

With the help of the bouncer, he put her in the passenger’s seat and buckled the seatbelt for her. Yuta chuckled while shaking his head when she whispered, “Take my phone, sir. Call my brother, he’ll pay you.” Doesn’t she realize that she’ll probably get in trouble with what she’s doing?

He thought she was chattier when she was intoxicated. She was very talkative with the guys earlier. But now, as he sailed across the highway, she was sound asleep. Maybe she is too drunk. The valet was quick to help him open the door when they arrived. One staff member of the apartment building asked if he needed assistance, “Could you call her brother and ask if he could open the door?”

Yuta carried her bridal style but she groaned in her sleep, “I can walk on my own. Don’t carry me, Jungwoo” The staff pushed the elevator button, letting the man enter with her still lying in his arms. “I’m heavy.”

“You have to eat more, Y/N.”

Jungwoo was momentarily surprised before he let out a small smile when the elevator doors opened to the penthouse unit. He opened the door wide for Yuta to come in then briskly walked to open the door to his sister’s room. “Did she call you? I’m sorry Y/N is such a bother.” Yuta put down Y/N on the bed gently while the younger guy opened the AC to her room.

“She drank at the club where I work at.” Then Yuta stopped. Does Jungwoo know that he’s a dancer from a club? Does he know that his sister goes to that kind of club? The other only nodded. The older guy went to the foot of her bed, removed her shoes, and then pulled the blanket up to make her comfortable. “She drank a lot. Do you have any idea why?”

Jungwoo closed the door to his sister’s room before handing Yuta what seemed like a wedding invitation. “The bride used to bully her a lot in the last year of high school and now, she begged for Y/N to attend her wedding.” Yuta had a curious expression on his face. “In their circle, my sister seemed like the most unsuccessful one. A lot of meet-ups and blind dates but she’s not yet married.”

“But Y/N is successful.” She enjoys her work and she’s happy with it. She has a nice car and a nice apartment. And she spends obscene amounts of money. “Isn’t she?”

The other guy smiled, nodding. “She is.” Then what is wrong? “But as a daughter of a rich family, she’s not.”

Yuta doesn’t understand anything. He’s not a daughter of the family. He doesn't know how pressuring it is. But Y/N shouldn’t beat herself for it. This is society’s fault for setting stereotypes. “Yuta, are you busy on Sunday?” He shook his head, looking at Jungwoo in curiosity. “Can you be my sister’s plus one at this wedding instead of me? I’ll pay you for your time.”

Part Seven

#yuta #yuta nakamoto #nakamoto yuta #yuta fluff #yuta nakamoto fluff #nakamoto yuta fluff #yuta chaptered #yuta nakamoto chaptered #nakamoto yuta chaptered

43 notes · View notes