#i feel like there are bees in my chest i feel like bouncing off the walls | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sleep-drunk-kitten · 3 months

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pairing: Sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: angst with a happy ending, fluff, established relationship

content warnings: emotional neglect, some swearing, hoon is kinda a workaholic ig?, I don't think there's anything that really needs warnings other than this is sad but lmk if I miss anything!

summary: your boyfriend comes home late after promising to be home on time for once, only to find that you're nowhere in sight...

notes: this is another one that I'm not sure how to feel about ;-; but I hope you guys enjoy it TwT fun fact, the whole thing was inspired by an rp that I did with an ai where the robot somehow managed to call me by another person's name while cuddling XD

I'm making a general taglist for my fics so if anyone would like to be added please either send an ask or a DM ^w^

Everything below the cut is NOT proofread

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The white noise of your favorite movie buzzes through your living room, conversation and dialogue that you’d learned by heart filling the cold space with a false sense of familiarity. You sit cross-legged with your back pressed into the arm of the L-shaped couch in front of the tv, resting your chin on a plushie held close to your chest, looking not at the flickering screen to your right, but at the clock hanging in your kitchen–the only room in the house with the lights on.

9:17 pm, it reads. Roughly three hours and seventeen minutes since your boyfriend would typically get home from work.

Three hours and seventeen minutes since you’d been waiting on a barstool by the kitchen island where you both usually took your meals.

A tiramisu cake and a bouquet of flowers laid out in front of you.

Waiting.

So much waiting.

After an hour or so, you’d gently slid the cake back into its box, distracting yourself with the task of putting the flowers into a vase before they could wilt.

‘He’s late again,’ you think sleepily, eyes struggling to stay focused on the clock, ’he promised he wouldn’t be tonight.’

Your vision blurs as the long hand hits 12, eyelids too heavy to keep open, mind wandering to the conversation you’d shared with Sunghoon that morning.

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“What time will you be home from work today?” you asked sleepily, sitting up in your nest of blankets, having woken up to find that he was already in the process of pulling his socks on, careful not to wake you.

“I don’t know, Love, you know how crazy things have been with this update, I might be late again,” he said absently, looking around for his glasses. “Where the fuck did I put them?”

He runs a hand through his hair frustratedly, leg bouncing in agitation. It made your heart ache slightly in your chest, disappointment, guilt, and worry mixing confusedly in your stomach.

You loved Sunghoon, more than almost anything else in your life, he was the man you’d chosen as your partner, who you’d decided to stand by through thick and thin. But ever since the game company he worked for had started work on a new update, you’d been seeing less and less of him. Always coming home late, tired and stressed, mind wandering and absent even when he was sitting right in front of you. You understood, you really did. Between the two of you he was the one with the bigger income, the burden of taking care of you, of making sure that the two of you could build a future together, was on his shoulders. And it was a responsibility that he did not take lightly.

But still.

In moments like that, where you slid off your bed to fetch his glasses off the nightstand–blanket wrapped securely round your shoulders to fend off the cold that permeated your apartment since the heating had started to malfunction–moving round the bed to stand in front of him… you couldn’t help but feel like he was breaking your heart. Just a little.

It was in the way he only met your eyes briefly when he took them from you before standing and gathering the rest of his things, sighing in what could’ve been frustration or relief, it was hard to tell.

It was the way he didn’t stop the flow of movement steadily taking him away from you and towards the office till you called his name twice, stopping in his tracks and fixing you with a look that, though probably unintentional, made you want to bury yourself under your mountain of plushies and hide.

“I’m going to be late, (y/n), what is it?”

You winced. You couldn’t help it. Unaccustomed to hearing him say your name with so little emotion. “Just… could you come back on time tonight?” your voice is barely more than a whisper, tapering off into silence the longer you force your eyes to meet his. “Unless you can’t of course! I’m not saying you have to do anything, I understand that you’re busy and you can’t really dictate when or how things get done but just that it would be nice if you could be home on time tonight since-”

“Okay.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll make it home on time tonight.”

His voice was softer than it had been a moment ago, giving you the courage you needed to meet his eyes. They were still heavy with worry, brows drawn together to dig a permanent crease into the middle of his forehead, but they weren’t quite as cold or distant. He was looking at you, really looking at you for the first time in what felt like forever.

It wasn’t much, you knew that. But it was still enough to ease the knot building in your throat. Enough to bring a small smile to your face as you nodded. “Mnm! Okay, I’ll see you tonight then.”

“Mnm, alright,” he said, a small, slightly strained smile coming to rest on his own lips.

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The apartment was almost completely dark when the lock to the front door chimed, alerting the darkness that someone had arrived. The figure that stepped through was slumped over, backpack sliding off one shoulder with his jacket, shoes abandoned haphazardly.

It took a moment for Sunghoon’s mind to catch up to his body, for it to fully sink into his bones that he was home. That he was home and it was nearly 11 pm. Home and the tv and kitchen light were both on, white letters onscreen asking the room if anyone was still watching Netflix.

Something in the kitchen caught his eye, a handmade vase his sister had given you for your birthday set out on the kitchen island, filled to the brim with pink, white, and purple flowers he did not recognise.

’Oh’

It was his birthday.

That’s why you’d asked him to come home on time.

Sunghoon groaned, face twisting with what could only be described as pain as he quickly set his bag down by the front door and made his way to your shared bedroom. You were usually asleep by this time, unable to pull all-nighters the way you used to back when you were in high school, always out like a light by no later than 10:30 every night.

’But she still stays up every night waiting for you,’ a voice in his head hisses.

’I know… fuck I know she does,’ his own voice replies, panic setting in when he finds your room empty, the bed neatly made, not even a dent to show that you’d been laying in it while working on your laptop during the day.

’She’s not here… are you surprised? How long did you expect her to wait?’ the voice whispers, a chill cascading down his spine.

The panic sets in with more vigor, wrapping round his throat and sending his tired mind into overdrive as he checks the bathroom, your home office, and finally the dark living room. Fear telling him that this was it.

He’d really gone and done it now.

He wasn’t a complete fool. He knew the moment you stood in the middle of your bedroom floor instead of closing the distance between you and wrapping your arms around his waist, choosing instead to clutch your favorite duvet like a lifeline, wincing when you heard his voice, all because you wanted to ask him to come home… he knew right then that he’d been an absolute idiot.

He’d meant to come home early, to be there to make it up to you, to apologise properly, tell you that he’d take some time off as soon as the update was done and dusted.

But he didn’t. He let work sweep him up again. Drowning in error messages and buggy code till the sky outside his office windows was filled with the flickering lights of the city at night.

And now… now you weren’t there.

He’d left you alone.

He’d left you alone too long and you were gone.

You were gone.

You were gone and-

’Oh.’

There you were.

The relief when Sunghoon sees you–curled up on the couch, partially hidden by a small pile of blankets and stuffed animals–is immediate.

He doesn’t really register the way he sighs your name, shoulders relaxing, body melting into the floor the moment he’s in front of you, hand brushing a few messy strands of hair out of your face. The need to feel the warmth of your skin, to confirm that you really are there in front of him more an instinct than a conscious decision.

You mumble something in your sleep, tilting your face away from his cold fingertips, eyes fluttering open. “Hoon… hi baby… welcome home,” you say tiredly, shifting under your blankets in an attempt to pull yourself up.

Sunghoon feels his heart crack in his chest. Why were you smiling at him? You should've been angry. You should've pushed him away, demanded to know why he was back so late, why he'd been neglecting you in the first place.

“Baby? My love… why are you crying?” you ask, reaching for him through the haze of sleep still clinging to your limbs.

Choking back a sob, he leans closer, tucking his head under your chin and doing his best to wrap an arm around you from his place on the carpeted floor. “Nothing,” he says, shaking his head, though the tears soaking into your sternum say otherwise, “just missed you…”

Your vision blurs at his words, a thread of steadily building tension and worry that had been constricting your heart for the past few weeks snapping. “Oh…” your voice shakes slightly, lungs shuddering as your breaths begin to feel lighter, “I’m right here you goose, what’re you crying for?”

“Who says I’m crying,” he says, hoarse with tears.

“Right right,” you laugh despite the dampness now soaking through your own cheeks, “because my baby never cries, huh?”

“Never,” he sniffles, nuzzling closer.

You stay like that for a while, eventually urging him to sit more comfortably on the couch, allowing you to settle yourself on his lap, his arms still wrapped firmly round your waist, hands occasionally kneading whatever part of you he was in contact with as if he needed to assure himself that you were there, solid and real.

He waits until he feels your heartbeat slow to a steady rhythm, trying his best to calm down so his own can match yours, beat for beat. The way it–in his opinion–should.

But it wouldn’t, there were words lodged in his throat, and every time he tried to get them out he felt that same panic wash over him, sending his heart into a frenzy.

You could feel like beating against your cheek, could sense that there was something he wasn’t saying from the way his grip on you would tighten almost imperceptibly, stiffening as if he was bracing himself for something. A part of you wanted to push him, prompt him and ask what was going through his head, why you’d woken up to the sight of him crying in the dim light of your living room. And you would’ve if he hadn’t beat you to it.

“I’m sorry, (y/n).”

“What do you mean? For being late? I know you can’t help it, Hoon, it’s not some-”

“No! I mean yes, I’m sorry for being late tonight but… I mean… I mean for everything… for not being… here, with you, like this… as often as I should be, I’m sorry,” he says, the hands at your sides nervously fidgeting with the fabric at your hips, nervously looking between your face and the static tv screen behind you.

Sunghoon had never been good with words. You’d learned early on in your relationship that he preferred to show how he felt through his actions. Yet here he was, fumbling through an apology because… because…

“My love… did you think I’d left?” you ask, gently cupping his face with one hand, urging him to look at you.

Puffy red eyes still wet with tears, messy unkempt hair from running his hands through it all day, tired and probably as emotionally spent as you’d ever seen him and still… still he was the most beautiful person in the world to you. He nodded, hiding his face in your chest again, hands stilling.

“Well,” you sigh, resting your chin on top of his head and running a hand through the hair at the back of his head, combing through it in a way he swears only you can, “at least you know you’ve got things you need to make up for…”

“I know… I forgot for a while… but I know…”

“That’s okay then,” you breathe, leaning back to kiss his forehead. “But Sunghoon… baby… darling… the love of my life… my little pookie bear… “ you both giggle a little at the pet names, “You know I’d never leave you over something like this right? I was sad, and hurt, and I still expect you to make it up to me by never doing this again but… I still love you, it only hurts because I love you… I’m not going anywhere.”

Sunghoon pauses for a moment, letting your words sink in. You think that when he looks up, lips slightly parted, it’s to say something in response, but you really should’ve known better.

Slowly, giving you enough time to pull away should you choose to, his breath mingling with yours before he steals it away with a soft, lingering kiss. Neither of you is in any rush to take things further.

It feels like a small eternity before he pulls away, like time stills for you both, but then he’s pressing his lips to your jaw, butterfly kisses tickling you down to your pulse point, making you giggle so you almost miss it when he says, “I love you too… so much…”

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It isn’t until the next day when you’re shuffling into your home office dressed in one of his oversized jerseys, complaining about a meeting that he remembers the flowers he’d seen on the kitchen island.

Pulling out his phone, he makes good use of his detective skills (and google lens), remembering all the times you’d spoken to him about the language of flowers, and the meanings behind certain blooms.

He wasn’t quite sure whether to laugh or cry once he’d figured it out, opting to dig through the cabinets for a pack of waffle mix to fix you some breakfast instead. He had a lot of apologies to make…

Baby’s Breath: pure everlasting love

Pink Camellias: longing for you

Forget-me-nots: true love memories, do not forget me

#kiki writes things ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡#sunghoon #park sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen #enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x you #fluff #enhypen fluff #angst #enhypen angst #cw: swearing #cw: neglect

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urhoneycombwitch · 8 months

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shrine of your lights

🍯 honey flavour: edibles and a church wedding to attend. what could go wrong with Eddie as your plus one?

🐝 the bees: FWB!Eddie x reader

wc: 4.8k

content warnings: a smidge of Catholic blasphemy, weed usage, friends w/ benefits Eddie, R is a bit of a love (and relationship) skeptic and Eddie is lovesick, R+E are in their 20’s, pining, public sex (no one but them observes tho), R has hair long enough to tuck behind ears, R gets a hickey but skin tone/color is not described, R has breasts and a V, softdom Eddie, marking kink (?)

foreword: I listened to Say You Love Me by Fleetwood Mac for this. LOL. kind of AU bc it’s a few years after ssn 4 and everyone is alive and just fine (lovesick but oh well can’t b helped) based on this anon thank u for inspiring me!!!!

The stained glass window in front of you looms tall, afternoon light streaming through and casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the polished wood flooring. You stretch out a hand into the warm beam of sun, admiring the way the colors catch and bounce off your dainty star-chain bracelet.

When Eddie had suggested you two eat some weed brownies as a precursor to your (very distant, very Catholic) cousin’s wedding, you hadn’t quite expected to get as stoned as you are now. Since Eddie hasn’t attended any major life functions sober since 1981, and seeing as how you refuse to step foot inside a church space without some sort of social lubricant, the weed wasn’t a hard sell at all.

To be fair, Eddie had warned you of their potency, and you had snuck another quarter of a brownie when his back was turned: but christ, your tolerance must be crazy low or something, ‘cuz a window has no right to be this mesmerizing.

You’ve been staring at it for the past five minutes, in your own little world while a steady stream of wedding guests file in through the big oak doors and mill about before the ceremony. The warm, still air of the church is heady with the smell of fresh florals and incense, and a line of votive candles flicker and wink against the windowsill.

Casting a glance over your shoulder, you see Eddie’s still speaking in gentle tones with an elderly woman (whom you’re likely related to, hard to say) near the foyer, all charming smile and sincere hand pressed to the slip of bare chest his button-down displays. You’ve got to hand it to the guy, he’s really great at endearing himself to total strangers; he’s been a natural shoe-in for any plus-one you’ve needed over the past few years.

While Eddie is perfectly in his element, holding what looks to be an engaging conversation while stoned to all hell, your focus is drawn back to the window. You should probably be on the arm of your guest, seeing as how it’s your family wedding after all, but the swirling lights and colors are too alluring to pull yourself away from.

“Beautiful piece of art, isn’t it?”

The voice behind you is unfamiliar, and proper social graces here would call for an introduction, perhaps a firm handshake, but your limbs and tongue feel so loose and the reply is out of your mouth before you can think twice- “God, yeah. S’fucking gorgeous. I want one for my house.”

There’s a light cough, and when you turn on your low-heeled Mary Janes it’s under the amused eye of a priest- in full priest-garb. Green velvet robes and little hat and everything.

You realize your error- swearing and taking the Lord’s name in vain- but the brief stint in Catholic school from when you were 6 is unfortunately not recalled in time to stop the scramble of swears mixed with apologies that come tumbling out.

“Oh shit- I mean- fuck. Oh god. Sorry, Father, I didn’t mean-”

The priest- old as hell but thankfully with sense of humor still intact- smiles kindly at you and takes your hand in both of his, patting graciously. “No apologies are necessary, my dear. The beauty of God can be overwhelming and awe-inducing.”

You nod jerkily, grabbing on to his excuse- “Yes, yep. That’s exactly what happened. Struck down by the awe.”

The priest nods to you, and then to Eddie (who’s appeared at your side like a guard dog that sensed trouble), then wanders off down a row of pews to greet other guests.

You’re nearly doubled over with the effort it takes to conceal your laughter, Eddie stroking a calming hand down your back and chuckling with you under his breath.

“Struck down by the awe, huh?” he echoes as you straighten back up and dab at the tears gathering against your lashline. “You really are somethin’.”

“That was so embarrassing but guess what-” here you lean in, voice a conspiratorial whisper as Eddie raises his eyebrows to look down his nose at you- “I don’t give a fuck ‘cuz I’m hi-igh.”

This last word is sung with a two-note lilt, and you turn back to the comfort of the sunny window as Eddie steps in beside you, shaking his head. “I told you to start with a lower dose, ya goose. Did you take more when I wasn’t looking?”

You shrug a shoulder, the soft linen of your cardigan brushing up against the hard leather of Eddie’s jacket. “Maybe. Couldn’t say. You gonna steal this window for me or what?”

He blows out a breath, pretending to appraise the size and heft, rapping his ringed knuckles against the sill- “Well normally I’d say ‘anything for my girl’, but we’d need a shrink ray for this type’a heist.”

“Maybe Dustin has one we can borrow.”

He sucks his front teeth, playing along, shaking his head in faux-disappointment. “Nah, little shit’s only got a ham radio. Useless when it comes to religious robbery.”

Eddie looks overly pleased when you giggle, but some of the humor in his face falls to concern as he reaches out to squeeze your upper arms. “Hey. You doin’ okay? If you’re too stoned to sit through the ceremony, I can find us a little spot to hole up in. I’m good at finding those.”

“I know you are,” you reply, waving away his worry. “I’m fine, honest. Do I look high?”

He holds you at arm’s length, giving you a contemplative once-over. “Nope. You look beautiful.”

You roll your eyes, affectionately, then smooth your palms over the front of your black slip dress and pull the scalloped sleeves of your cardigan into place. “Well, of that I am aware.”

Eddie winks, and you really wish you were sober enough that the warmth of his hands and the smell of his cologne would have less of an effect but high as you are, you want nothing more than to burrow into his neck and taste the salt of his skin.

“Do I look high?” he asks, pulling away to do a little spin so you can appraise his appearance.

Eddie Munson, as it turns out, cleans up very well for family functions: smart black boots, maroon button-down tucked into a pair of flare-legged trousers, worn but well-kept leather jacket to top the outfit off. And in signature Eddie fashion, little glints of silver highlight the ensemble- his usual chunky rings, stacked layers of thin chain necklaces, metal buckles on his coat and at his waist, even a set of tiny hoops (courtesy of your jewelry drawer) in his ears.

The dryness in your mouth has nothing to do with your intoxication as you blink back to the present and give Eddie a once-over. “Uhm. Nope. You look sober. And very hot.”

He grins at you, wolfish, but then a bright chord of organ music signals the start of the ceremony. With a steady hand on your back, he leads you to a pew near the last row; when you’re both seated, his hand runs smoothly down to rest on your thigh, drumming a lazy beat with his thumb against you as the processional starts.

Your cousin Marion looks lovely swathed in white tulle, contrasted with her groom in a black tux. Her mother, your aunt- Karen? Karina? can’t recall- dabs at her tears with a delicate lace handkerchief in the front pew as the couple exchanges vows, promising eternal and ineffable love until their ultimate demise, etcetera.

You’re not someone who’s ever fallen prone to the gushy emotions that love seems to create in so many of your peers. While Nancy and Robin will dole out tissues to each other during some cheesy romcom, you’ll get ribbed for being so stoic. None of your breakups have ever ended in giant blowouts or dramatics from your side- hard to fight for something when you hadn’t really cared about it in the first place.

That’s why you consider yourself so lucky, when it comes to Eddie. After the two of you ended your high school fling due to graduation, you’d come back to Hawkins after a few years of college and found yourself sneaking out like a teenager again to hang out with Eddie Munson.

He told you he doesn’t want anything serious, either, and that he’s just fine being friends who sleep around and go to all of each other’s parties.

You almost believe him.

He’s been to every one of your nephew’s hockey games this past season, and you’ve spent two cozy Christmases so far at the trailer with him and Wayne; every party in between has ended with Eddie driving you home, or (more frequently) back to his place. Your collective relatives and friends haven’t asked about your relationship status in years, and it’s all thanks to Eddie’s presence in your life: if the two of you aren’t technically dating, it’s really no one’s business.

The old priest from earlier is droning on about some bible verse; uncomfortable on the hard bench and feeling restless, you shift your hips, and Eddie digs his fingers into the meat of your thigh.

“Quit. Squirming,” he murmurs, lips at your ear. When you shiver and still, he pats your leg and straightens again, eyes fixed to the front altar.

You and Eddie make it through the ceremony with minimal damage, only getting one dirty look from an older man in the pew ahead when you’d snickered at a dirty joke (courtesy of your benchmate). Marion and her new husband greet their guests one by one as everyone filters outside, and you coast easily through the interaction, kissing your cousin on both cheeks and fawning over her dress and giving just the right amount of congrats before Eddie plucks at your elbow to subtly redirect your attention.

“Let’s get some food in you,” he says, linking your arms together as you follow the receiving line outdoors.

The reception is held just next to the church building in a surprisingly lovely courtyard. Sunlight filters through the willow trees at the edge of a grass yard, where a picnic basket awaits on each spread quilt. People are kicking off their dress shoes, unwinding with the lure of nature, kids chasing each other through the paths between blankets as adults wiggle their toes into the grass and dig into the luncheon.

Possibly, you’re high and over-romanticizing, but you can tell by the look on Eddie’s face he’s there with you, taking it all in from your blanket in a quiet corner of the yard.

There are finger sandwiches in the basket, along with some fresh fruit and plastic utensils and plates to eat off of; Eddie fixes you a plate and you dig in happily, sock feet tucked under yourself, yours and Eddie’s shoes in a jumble nearby.

“Could eat anything when I’m high,” you muse, then bite into a sandwich that has the perfect cream-cheese-to-cucumber ratio with a contented sigh. “Food is so good.”

Eddie snaps a baby carrot with his back teeth, then snorts at you before reaching out to tuck one side of your hair behind your ear before it gets eaten along with your food. “I know you can eat anything when you’re high. I once saw you scooping up apple pie with potato chips.”

You give him a sidelong frown, mouth full of bread and veg as you defend yourself- “Yeah, and it was great. Dee-licious. Would do it again if-”

Your name is being called, and you swivel to see a young man about your age weaving along the spaces between blankets towards yours and Eddie’s spot.

“Tony!” In a neat bit of multitasking, you manage to swallow your food and rise to your feet (albeit unsteadily, with Eddie’s hand snapping out to support your efforts), then hold your arms out to envelop the boy in a hug. “Oh my god, it’s been ages.”

Anthony Townsend has grown up in the time you’ve spent away- the last recollection you have of your former childhood neighbor is his mop of red hair bouncing with the trampoline his parents bought him in 6th grade. He grew into his looks, for sure- the awkwardness of pre-teen ears and too-big front teeth have settled into a very kind and handsome face.

He looks genuinely pleased to see you, returning your hug with a squeeze, pulling back to hold both your hands and ask about where you’ve been. You breeze through a highlighted version of the last few years, leaving out all the interdimensional monster bullshit and focusing the questions back on him.

Tony’s telling you about his father’s veterinary practice that’s still running smoothly when you feel Eddie at your back, and Tony falters, dropping your hands.

Social cues come a tad slow to you, under the influence, and you think Tony’s stumbling because you haven’t introduced him yet (how were you supposed to know Eddie’s been glaring daggers at the poor kid ever since you’d hugged him?), and you attempt to remedy your mistake with a casual remark- “You know, Eddie here has been feeding the stray cats at our place every night, a whole colony of them- there’s gotta be, what, ten of ‘em now?”

You turn to Eddie for confirmation, reeling a little at the dark scowl he’s still sporting as he nods. “Yup. Somethin’ like.”

Tony scratches at the back of his neck, freckled cheeks pink as he begins to back away- “Um, yeah. Cool. Well it was great to see you! I gotta…”

With a vague gesture, he turns and tails it back to his blanket on the other side of the yard. You whirl on Eddie, his face smoothing back into relaxed indifference, even as you hiss, “What the hell was that?”

Eddie shrugs. “Don’t know what you mean, princess.”

“That,” you repeat, waving an arm in the air for emphasis. “I know I’m not sober but you were being weird, even by my standards.”

There’s this look that Eddie gets, sometimes, when one of you bumps against the walls of your loosely-defined relationship- a brief flash of pain and sadness before it gets hidden away behind his comfortable mask of bravado.

He’s got it now- a small pinch in his eyebrows, doey eyes swimming with emotion, and you put a hand on his leather-clad arm as the pieces fall into place. “Were you… are you jealous?”

In the span of a blink, the mask is back up, and with a dry laugh that’s so unlike him, Eddie shakes his head. “Nah. What do I have to be jealous of, huh? ‘S not like we belong to each other.”

Maybe on a different day, with half the weed in your system, you’d be able to let this comment slide. But there’s something deeply hurtful about it, sinking and twisting in your stomach like a stone. Your grip tightens on Eddie’s arm, tears stinging hot at your eyes, voice a watery, desperate thing- “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

Eddie is quick to comfort you, once he realizes you’re close to crying- “Shit, sweetheart. Okay. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to think…” Your voice is still shaky with emotion as Eddie lets you hold on to him, gently shushing you even though there’s no one near enough to hear. “You’re important to me, Eddie. I never wanna make you mad, or upset, or-”

“I’m not.” Eddie cuts smoothly into your rambling, placing his hands on either side of your neck as you cling to him, cool rings kissing into your skin. “I’m not mad, promise. I was just being an asshole for no reason, okay? Could never be mad at you.”

His thumb strokes at the column of your throat, your breath and heart rate lulled to normal under his touch, his expression returning to the gentle fondness you’re used to seeing.

“Let’s finish up lunch, hm?” Eddie says, and with a final soft squeeze he pulls away from you, taking with him the warmth of his palms.

It’s always like this, with him, at least in front of your respective families- any PDA is kept to a strict minimum, nothing too intimate or drawn out so as not to attract attention. You’d implemented this rule from the beginning, and Eddie has been nothing but respectful of it, your peace of mind over not wanting a label pacified.

But right now? The lack of Eddie’s arms around you or his lips on yours was starting to make you ache.

You both settle into the blanket again, conversation flowing around mouthfuls of food as you catch Eddie up with the latest family gossip, laughing when he bats your pointer finger out of the air (as if anyone is really paying attention to you two giggling loons).

Someone’s brought a radio and has it dialed to a soft rock station; you gasp and shove at Eddie (sprawled out like a house cat after a full meal in the sun), exclaiming “It’s Fleetwood Mac and you love Fleetwood Mac!”

“I so don’t,” he grumbles, but rises easily when you tug at him to stand sock-to-sock feet with you in the grass.

You both fall into a smooth rhythm, Eddie’s hands staying (respectably) on your hips, yours looped around his neck, doing a slow little rotation. He gazes at you as you sway back and forth in each other’s arms, the scrutiny making you titter and fidget.

“What?”

“Thought I told you to quit squirmin’,' ' comes his answer, hands tightening into the meat of your waist. “Let me look at you a minute.”

So you let him look.

While his chocolate eyes roam your face, you trail a hand up to curl a lock of his hair around your finger. Eddie leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut, giving you room to do some staring of your own at those long, dark lashes.

After another slow circle, Eddie inhales and draws himself back, clearing his throat. “Not that I’m not enjoying this, sweetheart, but we’re gonna start getting looks if you don’t quit using me as your personal stress toy.”

You snort. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“All good,” he replies, dimples springing into his cheeks, teasing again- “When we get home later you can pet me like a dog, if you want. Just gotta tone you down ‘cuz you get touchy when you’re high.”

Eddie’s being a perfect gentleman. He’s sticking to your rules and looking out for you.

So why is it making you so sad?

You realize, with a stunning clarity, that you don’t want to wait until you’re back at the trailer to touch Eddie. That you’re starting to crave him when he leaves, whether it’s for a day or an hour or just out of bed to get a snack.

Fuck it, you think, and bend to scoop up your shoes.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you tell Eddie, slipping on your shoes then starting towards the building. When you realize he’s not following, you pause, giving him a look over your shoulder- “Aren’t you coming?”

Eddie blinks, wondering if you’re insinuating what he thinks you’re insinuating or if he’s just really, really high. “Um. Uh…”

You don’t leave room for the shock to sink in, turning on your heel and smirking when you hear him swear under his breath and scramble to catch up.

In a narrow hallway lined with portraits of long-dead saints, you push Eddie against the wall, mouth sealing over his and hands roaming hungrily over his body.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, in between kisses, your fingers tugging at the root of his hair, near the nape of his neck where it stings the best- “what’s got you so worked up, princess?”

“You.” The answer is an honest one. You slip your tongue between Eddie’s teeth and the boy moans, melting into you.

Peppering kisses down Eddie’s face, your lips settle into the hollow just under his jaw, then part to give room to your teeth. Eddie stiffens as you bite down, sensitive skin pierced by your mouth; it’s his turn to be the squirmy one as you suck a bruise into that soft spot.

His cock is filling out, as proved by the steadily-growing bulge behind his zipper. You give a mean little wiggle of your hips and Eddie jolts so hard you lose your spot on his neck, popping off him with a wet smack.

“Angel, you have to stop.” Eddie sounds absolutely wrecked as he tries to maintain some distance, head tipped back to stare at the popcorn ceiling. “M’not gonna last if you keep doing that. Let me take you home, we can-”

“Shhh.” You quiet him with a pointer finger smooshed against his lips, your other hand tilted to your ear. “You hear that?”

Eddie strains to hear distant cheers and hip hip hoorays from the festivities a few corridors away; when he nods, you whisper, “That’s the cake cutting. We have a good ten minutes before anyone thinks to come back here.”

At first, Eddie thinks he’s off the hook when you release him completely, walking swiftly towards the main sanctuary. But then, because you’re a temptress, you beckon him with an impatient wave.

And because he’s so easy for you, he follows.

It’s like that window has a magnetic pull- you’re back under the prismatic glow of the stained glass, brushing a hand across the wide sill to dust it before hopping up to perch there. You fit neatly between the split row of votive candles (all snuffed out by now), enough room for your knees to part and for Eddie to fill the space.

You cross your arms around his neck, drawing him in with another deep kiss as his hands find your waist.

“Want you to mark me up,” you murmur, and when Eddie draws back, wary, you let your chin tip up. The crown of your head knocks into the window, exposing your throat. “Show them I’m yours, Eds.”

Only have to tell him twice, apparently, ‘cuz his teeth sink into your stretch of soft skin without further qualms. The feeling of his tongue soothing over the sore spot makes you jump, hips bucking forward into his hand that you didn’t even notice had trailed up the inside of your dress.

His long fingers pet at the wet patch that’s seeping through your underwear, catching at your clit on an upstroke, your gasp a harsh noise in the otherwise silent sanctuary.

Eddie begins to rub at you through the fabric in earnest now, tight circles with his thumb even as he pulls his mouth from your neck to assess his handiwork. “Yeah, fuck, sweetheart, that’s gonna leave a mark. You want everyone to know who you belong to, huh?”

Your bundle of nerves throbs under Eddie’s touch and you curse, hands weaving tight into his hair again. “Shit, Eddie, yeah- just like that…”

He dips back into the well of your neck with his teeth, keeps just the right amount of pressure on your clit, and that tension coiling in your lower stomach is just about to snap before you stop him with a hand around his wrist.

“Sorry,” you pant through the apology, forehead crushed to Eddie’s collarbone as you try and catch your breath. “Was about to come and I want you inside of me for that.”

“Jesus fucking christ.”

Eddie fumbles with his belt buckles as you giggle, chastising- “Hush and mind your manners, Munson. That’s blaspheming and we’re about to fuck in a church.”

“I’ll show you manners.” Eddie has his pants and briefs shoved to mid-thigh before you can draw breath to tell him off; one hand smears precum down the shaft of his ruddy cock as the other pushes your dress up and hooks your panties to the side.

You’re wet and worked up enough that he slides into the heat of you with ease, breath punching out with the way his cock completely fills you. When Eddie pulls out and sinks back in, you let out a keening whine and scrabble for purchase on his leather jacket.

“That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it-” his voice is a dark rumble, each word punctuated with a snap of his hips, the squelch of your slick walls responding. “So wet for me. That’s my good girl. You like gettin’ off to being mine, huh, angel?”

You nod, head lolling against the window, and Eddie grins wicked even though you can’t see it. “Come on. Show me whose pussy this is.”

When his hand snakes between your bodies to press against your clit with his thumb, you come with a long, strained whimper, ankles crossing at the small of Eddie’s back to draw him closer while the velvet walls of your cunt spasm.

Eddie’s free hand shoots out to the supporting wood arch of the window for stability as he angles his hips up, longing for that glossy honey-eyed look you get sometimes: and there it is, your eyes half-lidded and brow pinched in pleasure as his cock hits against that gummy spot, the tremble of your thighs locked around his waist as your orgasm peaks.

Once he’s fucked you through the height of it, Eddie dips to bite at the taut muscle where your neck and shoulder meet, clamping down on the words threatening to flood out as his hips stutter. He comes hard, deep groan muffled into your neck, curses and praises spilling out in mindless babbling: “Fuck fuck, angel, that’s it, honey, shit, you’re so wet. All for me, huh, baby? Doin’ so good…”

He sags into your arms, pinning you to the window, chests heaving in tandem as you both catch your breath. You stroke a hand down his back, towards his ass, and then to the edge of his pants.

When he realizes that you’re trying to tuck him back into his clothes he whines at you, but you’re quick to shush him. “We’re cuttin’ it close with timing already, Eds. Help me out?”

Reluctantly, Eddie pulls away from the wet warmth of you to re-dress. Once his belt is in place he attends to you, helping shift the hem of your dress back down, rubbing his finger lightly under the skin of your eye where some mascara had smudged.

“I’ll double back for the keys and we’ll go home, ‘kay?” Eddie says, nose nudging into your cheek. “Wait here. You got some wicked marks and everyone will know we just fucked.”

“Pfft. No they won’t. Who would actually fuck in a church?” You push Eddie back playfully, hopping down from the sill with a wink. “You’ve gotta be sick to do that. Good thing my family believes you to be a perfect goody-two-shoes.”

Eddie stares as you make for the doors back to the courtyard, shrugging off his incredulity- “Eddie. It’s fine. So they’ll think we made out a bit. Who cares? Not me. And plus…” here you trail off and point, mischievous, Eddie’s eye’s following the line to his sock feet- “...you kinda have a no-shoes situation goin’ on. Gotta fix that.”

When you disappear through the doors, Eddie slams a palm to his chest, in awe- then feels the outline of the lighter in his inner pocket. With a practiced twist, he has it out and lit in a second, holding the flame to the wick of a votive candle.

“I don’t know how these candles work, exactly, or if atheists are allowed to…” Eddie clears his throat, glances over his shoulder to confirm you’re still out of earshot, then whispers above the flickering light: “Please let this be real life and not just some high-fueled fantasy because this is kind of huge for me. Okay thanks. Amen, or whatever.”

Eddie blows out the candle like it’s a birthday wish then hurries to catch up with you, sock feet silent against the wood floor as he calls out your name- “Slow down and have a heart, babe, I’ve got no grip!”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #weed mention #tw weed

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bettyfrommars · 6 months

Text

Death Becomes Us

Part 10: The Man Who Made a Monster

vampire!Eddie x supernatural!Fem!Reader

masterlist playlist

WC: 7.6k

18+ONLY, MDNI, mention of wounds, car accidents, a bit of body horror, angst, guns, gunshot wounds, reader gets physically hurt (but bounces right back), blood, drinking blood, allusions to smut, evil men, supernatural powers, a demobat fren, fear of the unknown, a fire, werewolf!Steve, Dr. Brenner. References to one of my favorite 80's shows, the Incredible Hulk with Lou Ferrigno, and mid-90's MTV. Tiny references to FOI that you won't even notice if you haven't read the book.

Summary: Eddie, Jareth, and Steve come to your rescue, but do you even need to be rescued? Bad men surface and reader finds strength she never knew she had. Eddie confesses more than one secret to us, and the tension is thick. Reader is called Dove as a nickname.

Author's Note: I covered quite a few bases in this chapter, but there is still a lot to explore in the next and final part. We get to see reader in action and get some much-deserved satisfaction. I 've been staring at it for so long, I really hope you have fun reading this, love you. As always, Jareth's face claim is Jamie Campbell Bower.

-----

this starts right where Part 9 left off

Eddie snatched his keys and shoved Steve out the door before he quickly put some food down for Dio and locked the dead bolt.

Steve called shotgun in the air, vaulting over the hood like an extra from the movie Grease, making Jareth roll his eyes. “Is he part werewolf or labrador?” Whispering under his breath to Eddie, but Eddie just nudged him out of the way.

Jareth paused on the opposite side of the Pontiac GTO. “We should go on foot, it would be faster,” hinting to the lightning-speed with which vampires moved.

Eddie inclined his head to Steve. “Not when we’ve got the pup with us.”

“Fuck you,” Steve sneered, brushing back a flop of hair from his forehead. “I can keep up with you two geezers, trust me.”

“What if I just kill him and rid us of the dead weight,” Jareth grumbled.

“You can try,” Steve bit, growling deep in his chest.

“Enough!” Eddie snapped, swatting the top of the car with his hand. “Everyone get in and hold the fuck on. We’re goin’ for a ride.”

—----

Heat scorched through your veins like lava, and as your eyes fluttered open, you passively wondered if the car was on fire, and you were about to be cooked alive.

But

You were no longer in the vehicle. Squeezing your eyelids tight to find the memory, recollection came flooding back as your fingers curled into dirt, cheek pressed into the forest foliage. There might have even been a pinecone acting as a pillow at your ear.

The muscles in your arms and shoulders throbbed, not to mention the feeling of your skull being cracked open by a catastrophic neurological event. A migraine to rival all migraines.

You remembered being taken…the conversation about Brenner…and Bela…

Bela!

You called her name, but it came out as nothing but a puff of air, a whine deep in your chest.

What if she got hurt in the crash? What if she —

The crash!

Adrenaline flushed through you like a swarm of bees and you sat up, cracking your stiff neck as you went, and your head swam.

Where the fuck were you?

A car passed a few yards away on the highway and you realized you’d been tossed into a ravine. In the distance, the SUV you’d been kidnapped in was on its back and smoking as if something inside had caught fire. Where was that awful witch and the man who was driving?

A memory of ripping the door off by its hinges and climbing out of the vehicle flashed behind your eyes, but that was impossible. You must’ve been able to jump out and then hit your head or something. You weren’t turning green and ripping out of your clothes; you were no Lou Ferrigno.

You moved your legs to make sure they worked, and soon you were on your feet, using tufts of grass to crawl along as if you were about to fall off the earth.

In the distance, thunder rolled.

—----

“Turn here, take the shortcut!” Steve shot his hairy arm between the two seats, pointing to right after the stop sign.

“I know what I’m doing!” Eddie roared. “Just sit the fuck back and stay cool.”

Eddie could feel you, and his heart was jackhammering in his chest.

He floored the gas, tires squealing as they ghosted the road, peeling down the old highway through the woods that barely anyone used anymore. The velocity shot Steve back against his seat, and Jareth’s fingers dug into the console while music from Sisters of Mercy blared from the stereo.

“We’re close,” Eddie lowered his chin, laser focused on the scene ahead of him. He could feel that familiar static fill his body whenever he was in your vicinity.

You were not the first human whose blood he’d tasted, not by a long shot. In fact, for the first few years after he’d been made vampire, he didn’t care about himself or anyone else, and it seemed there wasn’t a willing human in a 100 mile radius that he hadn’t tasted.

But with you, it wasn’t even about your blood.

You made him feel a certain type of way that he’d been missing for over a decade, perhaps even his whole life.

The clouds trembled, and a crackle of lightning shot a silent burst of light through the midnight sky. All three of them could smell the wreck before it was ever in view, and Eddie released his foot on the gas to slow down a bit.

—---

You stumbled onto the main highway, and the headlights came at you too fast to understand what was happening.

Everything was so bright, it hurt your eyes. It made you swipe your hands in the air and groan, fighting the illumination as if it were a tangible enemy.

The car coming at you screeched on its brakes, twisting to the side so that it wouldn’t hit you, skidding sideways.

In a blink, you recognized the stunned faces on the other side of the windshield.

—---

The other two men in the car didn’t see that it was you at first—but Eddie knew. He’d witnessed those shock white eyes before, void of color or pupil.

Electricity snapped off you, as if you were a live wire. It crackled and skipped off of your skin like the lightning that appeared above them in the sky.

One of your arms was twisted unnaturally backwards at the elbow, but you somehow flexed the joint back into place as you stood there, correcting your posture. You stood on one side of your foot as if your ankle was broken, but then that righted itself with a sickening twist. Your limbs jerked like the walking dead trying to move for the first time after reanimation. All of this, and yet your face appeared unphased, as if you were impervious to the pain.

Your face was set in surprise and fear and confusion, and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest to be able to hold you.

With a curse, he slammed the GTO to a halt, tires burning rubber as they locked and skidded on the asphalt.

Something told him you were fairly invincible, just like him, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

Steve slid across the backseat, knocking his head on impact, and Jareth’s fingers dug so deep into the console that they left puncture marks.

Eddie didn’t have time to think about what the other two were doing or the danger of leaving his car in the middle of the highway, he threw the gear into park and jumped out to check on you.

From above, there came a loud squawking, and Bela soared down from where she’d been circling in the sky to land on your shoulder with a weight that almost made you lose your balance.

—-----

Bela bared her teeth and screeched at whoever was approaching from the vehicle. The headlights were too bright, and your ear canals were on fire with hot noise. A loud, shrill ringing filled your skull cavity like sharp a million tiny pinpricks.

But then you recognized his silhouette

You’d know it anywhere

“Eddie?”

“It’s me,” he assured you. “Are you hurt?”

Bela settled once she knew it was him, lowering her wings, and his body came to block the light so that you could see the distress in his face. He reached a hand out to touch your arm, but then he yanked it back with a hiss. It was like you’d given him an electrical shock, with volts like those from a cattle prod or taser.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” you hesitated, hoping he’d dare to touch you again.

And he did, rushing closer without pause, not caring about how bad the last one stung. He cupped one hand at your jaw while the other went to your hip, searching your mouth for temptation's sake. “Let’s get you home.”

He got zapped a few more times from seemingly stray sparks, in the chest and the side, making him wince, but he did not relent. It was a good thing the violent stabbing did not force him back, because just then your knees gave out and you slumped into his arms. Bela took to the sky again before landing on the hood of the GTO with another high pitched wail, wings spanning out as if she were about to conduct an orchestra.

Eddie dropped to his knees on the ground next to you, careful to protect your head from the pavement with his hand. In wolf form, Steve trotted over to nudge your face with his snout and lick your cheek with a whimper.

“She’ll be okay,” Eddie took his jacket off and made it into a pillow for you, before angling to sink his fangs into his own wrist. “She needs blood.”

“Use mine,” Jareth hovered nearby, and you could vaguely hear them arguing as your adrenaline crashed. “I’m older, my blood is stronger.”

“No,” Eddie growled, and then the two bared their teeth at each other.

Eddie knew that, more than anything, Jareth wanted to be in your head, to be linked to you in the same way he was. To know where you were at all times and for you to have…those special dreams about him. No way in hell would Eddie let that happen.

He’d already punctured a vein and had his tattooed wrist over your mouth, leaking his life force into your trembling lips until you were able to latch on and suck.

Jareth’s stare bore into Eddie. “Maybe I should tell her you’re the reason Brenner knew about her in the first place.”

Eddie glared at him. “You don’t know fuck about it.”

Jareth smirked. “I know more than you think about the little ‘job’ you were hired to do for him.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed and he shushed him. “This isn’t the place for this, Jareth.”

A car had to navigate around the GTO to continue down the old highway, and the person shouted their disapproval, but then the driver slowed once he spotted you on the ground and the SUV that was rolled over on its side in the distance.

Jareth and Eddie turned to him and hissed with their fangs out, glaring at him with obsidian eyes, until he slammed on the gas and sped off in the direction he was headed. Steve growled and chased after the car, keeping up with it for a while before hanging back to sniff around the wreckage that you’d managed to somehow survive.

You mumbled, gurgling on a spurt of blood, and Eddie took his wrist away. Your eyes were closed, but your tongue flicked out to lick more of his essence from your stained lips. Were you conscious enough to know what they were talking about? He’d planned on telling you everything, but the time was never right. He never expected things to get so…messy. Never expected you’d become so…special to him.

Some rich dude offers you to keep an eye on someone for a couple weeks for an abnormally huge chunk of cash, you do it. He’d had no skin in the game when he initially accepted the offer.

Caring about you as much as he did was the last fucking thing he’d expected to happen, but he didn’t know how to make it stop.

Jareth leaned over you to get closer to Eddie. “If you don’t tell her soon, I will, and your little fairytale will be over.”

All Eddie could do was grind his teeth: Jareth was right, he should’ve explained the whole thing to you that night when he’d waited for you to get back from your date with Steve. But by then, he was afraid he’d lose you.

Yet, how could you lose someone you never had?

“We need to get out of here,” Eddie eased you into a sitting position, your head flopped, and then held your chin in his hand. Your eyelids were fluttering and your skin was beginning to cool as the healing properties of his blood took effect.

God, how badly he wanted to press his lips to yours.

“What about the witch?” Jareth stood to full height to look over and see Steve sniffing around the crash. “What if they survived?”

Eddie had you off your feet and lifted in his arms by then, but Jareth was right. As much as he wanted to get you far away from there, he’d watched enough horror movies to know that you never turned your back on a killer until you knew they were dead. Knocking them unconscious with the back of a shovel wasn’t enough; you had to chop their whole head off and throw them in a cement mixer.

Steve morphed back into human form halfway back to the group, butt naked again, to report back on what he’d found.

Eddie waited for him to announce that there was no one in the vehicle and the bodies were gone…

But instead, Steve shook his head. “Looks like they didn’t survive. His neck is broken and she’s—-”

“Are you sure?” Jareth blurted with an air of irritation. “Maybe I should check for myself.”

“I think I know what a dead body smells like, asshole,” Steve grunted, pushing back on Jareth’s chest.

The headlights of another car was approaching, and Eddie reiterated that they needed to get as far away as possible from the scene of the crime. He threw the keys to Jareth, and made Steve sit in front so that he could crawl into the back with you while you healed. Bela billowed into the sky and hovered there, waiting to see where they were taking you so she could follow.

It wasn’t his blood that healed your broken foot or your fractured arm though—you’d done that all by yourself. Maybe you didn’t need him after all, maybe you’d be better off without him.

“Put your pants back on,” Eddie tossed the clothing from the back seat over to Steve. “I don’t need you teabagging the upholstery.”

Next to him, you had your head on Eddie’s shoulder and your hand on his thigh when Jareth sped off just in time to miss being clipped by the oncoming semi truck. It blared its horn just as you lifted your head to look up at Eddie with groggy eyes.

He licked his lips, feeling his throat close up at how near your face was to his.

“Did you save me?” Your voice was strained, sounding like your esophagus was constricted.

Eddie put his hand over yours and you interlaced fingers. “I think you saved yourself,” he mumbled. “You don’t need me.”

“I do,” you said it so fast, and he leaned over even more, thinking maybe he hadn’t heard you correctly. “I do need you.”

Your hand in his, he brought it up to his chest, searching your eyes as an avalanche of words trembled at the tip of his tongue, right there wanting to roll out like a carpet of devotion to you.

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves because he was shaking so fucking bad.

Jareth caught his eye in the rearview mirror and the two glared at each other before Eddie broke contact and wrapped another arm around your shoulders to bring you closer. “We’re almost home,” he hushed, planting his lips to your forehead, blushing at the way you refused to let go of his hand. “I won’t leave you.”

—----

By the time you got back to the trailer park, your energy and strength had been fortified and you urged everyone to go home to let you get some rest, except for Eddie, who’s hand you were still holding as you got out of the car.

The witch and her companion being dead felt too good to be true, and a measure of palpable dread hung in the air. It was unspoken knowledge that Brenner was still after you, and he knew exactly where you lived.

Jareth stepped forward, tipping your chin up with the crook of his finger. “Are you sure you don’t need anything, love?”

“She has me,” Eddie growled.

Jareth fluttered his eyelids in that bored way he’d mastered. “If you’re so concerned, we’d be better off at Sacrament. I can keep her safe there more sufficiently than she’d be in this…” he fanned his hand around a few times, “...this place.”

Bela landed on the railing with a swoosh and squawked.

“I hate to say it, after everything,” you angled toward the steps, exhausted. “But I don’t think this Brenner person is going to stop until he gets what he wants.” You glanced sideways at Eddie. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me.”

“I’d like to meet this guy myself,” Steve said through gritted teeth.

Jareth flipped the collar of his coat up and ran a hand through his golden hair. “Well, my offer stands. Sacrament is at your service if you should require shelter or protection.”

“Sounds good,” Eddie said dismissively, reaching for the railing to cage you away from the two men. “We’ll let you know.”

“Thank you, Jareth,” you told him, and he winked at you, returning the genuine curve of your smile.

And Eddie hated it so much, he wouldn't have been surprised if steam were coming out of his ears like a cartoon villain.

But he let it slide because Jareth could make things fucking awkward in that moment if he wanted to.

You turned to Steve. “Would you like to come in? I don’t have much by way of food, but—”

“He’s fine,” Eddie answered for him.

The two glared at each other for a beat, but then Steve relented. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry. Still, I think I’ll stick around for a while, check the perimeter,” he ignored the tick in Eddie’s jaw and waved at you as he backed up to disappear around the backside of the trailer.

“Hey Harrington, my vest!” Eddie shouted, and it wasn’t long before the denim came sailing through the air to land on the dead lawn near the porch. Eddie bent to pick it up with a huff, and by then Jareth had disappeared into the night.

Now you were finally alone, and as much as it was what he wanted, it made his stomach drop.

Eddie paced the living room a bit before taking a seat, perching precariously at the end of the sofa to bounce his knee and gnaw at his bottom lip.

“Listen,” you took a beer and a half-full bottle of NuBlood out of the fridge to put it in the microwave for him. “I figure there’s no use asking you to leave with people obviously hunting me down, but I really need to take a shower. So just…make yourself at home I suppose?”

The microwave dinged and you walked the warm glass bottle over, and then waited for him to wrap his hand around it, fingers grazing yours, before you spoke. “I feel like there are some things we should talk about.”

Eddie was already nodding. “I’d like that,” he gulped.

Eddie waited until he heard the shower running before he sank down into the cushion and used the remote to turn the TV on. He needed to distract himself from letting his mind wander to how you were absolutely undressing in there, about to be naked and wet and…

He squirmed in his seat and turned the volume up. It was an MTV music video for Metallica’s Until it Sleeps, but he only vaguely cared as he puffed his cheeks for a forceful exhale. In his head, he practiced what he would say, how he would beg your forgiveness, and how he never really understood what this guy Brenner was all about until it was too late…

In the shower, you made the water as hot as you could handle it, leaning into the burn, and stood there for the longest time without moving. Eyes closed, you could feel Eddie step into the shower behind you, sneaking his hands around to pluck at your nipples. “Room for one more?” He rumbled in your ear, just before he nibbled it.

He wasn’t really there, but you couldn’t help but touch yourself with a soapy hand as if he were, biting your lip around a moan.

The water ran cold by the time you were ready to step out, swooshing the curtain aside with a swift swipe of your arm.

The thump of something heavy falling to the ground out in the living room had you straining to hear what it might’ve been as you pulled a clean t-shirt and jeans on. Music videos were on, playing In the Blood by Better Than Ezra, and you called Eddie’s name.

The only response you got was from Bela, and she let out one long screech that felt like it had the power to break glass.

“Eddie?” You shouted this time, flinging the door open to let the steam roll out and fill the hallway. “Bela??”

The door to your trailer was wide open, but Bela was there, scrambling from the back of the couch to perch on your shoulder the second you came into view.

“What happened?” You asked your demobat companion. “He just left us here? Without a word?”

The potted terracotta plant that had once been above the TV right by the door was on the carpet, shattered.

You crossed your arms over your chest, and shivered as you stepped one foot out on the porch to look around, a chill breeze nipping at your flesh. “Eddie? Are you out here? Steve?”

The whole court was eerily silent, even the crickets and frogs were holding their breath.

You backed up into the house, pulling the door shut.

The TV screen went from MTV to static, and you stepped back to stare at it while Bela swished her tentacles around nervously, leaving red, raised scratches on your arm and neck. She was heavy, but you’d gotten used to her weight and hitched our shoulder up to accommodate.

The static changed to the image of a man standing before a black backdrop. He was tall and thin, wearing a business suit with a full head of silver hair.

“Hello Dove,” the man on your TV said.

He was looking right at you.

You glanced around for a weapon, but as if he could read your mind he said. “No need for that, I don’t want to hurt you.” He was handsome in a “trust me”, evil doctor kind of way, but the last thing you felt like giving him was your trust.

“What did you do to Eddie?” It felt stupid, talking to an electronic device as if it were a person, but that was the situation you’d found yourself in.

Brenner said nothing, but you got a bad feeling and swallowed to wet your dry mouth before taking cautions steps over to the window facing his trailer to peel back the blinds.

But you could already see the flames inside, and just then, you smelled the smoke.

His trailer

It was on fire.

“Nononono no,” You chanted, charging for the door.

“Come with me quietly,” the man on the TV said, calmly. “Or your vampire boyfriend will meet the final death.”

You halted in your tracks, glaring down at the older man, nostrils flaring with anger. “Come with you? Where are you hiding?” You chided; hands balled into fist as you cocked your head. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

Brenner looked down before meeting your eyes again. “Your father underestimated the capacity for your powers. I don’t plan to make the same mistake.”

“How did you know my father?” You barked.

Outside, one of Eddie’s windows blew out, glass shattering everywhere, and his curtains went up in flames.

You ran outside and flew down the steps before the man's voice could stop you. Dio, Eddie’s cat, ran by to hide under your trailer.

Maybe Eddie had gone in like a crazy person to save some photos or something, and somehow, he’d gotten trapped in there. Bela took to the sky while you rushed to his door.

But then there he was, staggering out on a dark cloud of smoke, holding an electric guitar in his hand.

“My sweetheart,” he held it up. “I couldn’t let her burn.”

He was smiling at you from the top of his steps, dimples popping, and you could help but mirror it, flooded with relief. He really didn’t care that his whole place was burning, as long as he had Dio, his guitar, and you.

He’d lost much more in his life to a fire once when he was younger, so this one wouldn't sting half as bad.

And it suddenly didn’t matter that some creepy old dude could somehow talk to you through your TV: Eddie was okay.

But then something else happened.

He took the first step, never taking his eyes off of you, but something knocked his shoulder back, like an invisible punch.

And then another and another

The smile on his face quivered and his forehead creased, trying to understand what was happening.

He tucked his chin to look at his torso, and your eyes followed.

Dark blooms were appearing on his shirt like liquid spilled from an inkwell. On his chest, over his heart, from his stomach.

He stumbled down the last two steps and then fell to his knees, dropping the guitar so that he could brace himself with his hand.

Had Eddie been shot?

You didn’t have time to figure that out. Some strange voice in your head told you there was a chance the trailer could explode—or maybe you’d watched too many movies—but you had to get him away from there. He was a vampire, and even if he had been shot, he could heal, but you weren't sure how he would survive his body being blown to bits.

The next thing you knew, you were carrying him, much like he’d carried you in his arms earlier. You didn't need to summon the insane strength; it was just there. There was that buzzing in your skull, and you could feel violent sparks crackling through your muscles.

Everyone was coming out of their trailers at that point, and Dolores was screaming frantically into her phone wearing a nightshirt and curlers in her hair. You didn’t know how long it would take for the fire department to get there, or if there was a possibility that the wreckage would spread to the other trailers.

You put Eddie down on the other side of your hearse and leaned him back against the tire to find there was blood trickling from his mouth, but he still tried to grin at you.

“See,” he sputtered. “You’re like a superhero. You don’t need me.”

“But I do,” tears clouded your eyes while another window blew out from the trailer. You put your forehead to his and your lips brushed together. “Please, don’t leave me. Eddie I—”

“The bullets,” he winced. “They’re silver. My body can’t reject them.”

There were three or four different holes in him there that were steaming as the silver burned him from the inside. You cupped your hand on his jaw, and he grabbed your wrist, turning his head to kiss your palm.

“Here, take my blood—”

You yanked your shirt down to give him your pulsing jugular, but all of a sudden you were forced back by some unseen force, flying through the air until you landed ass first in the gravel and skidded to a stop, rolling over to find yourself face first at the feet of someone wearing a pair of black, shiny shoes and slacks.

“Dove,” a familiar, deep voice said. “We meet again.”

You pushed back, scuttling away to find that it was the man from your TV; he was standing in your trailer park. Flanked by two menacing looking men with bald, tattooed heads, wearing sunglasses. Each of them in suits and ties as if they were the actual Men in Black.

“I don’t know you,” you grumbled, getting to your feet that were bare and bleeding, but healing rapidly. You checked around each shoulder cautiously to see that there was a handful of other men in suits, all of them holding guns, and then a tall guy with a scalp of strawberry stubble, no more than 20, in a red jumpsuit. The guy had his chin down, eyes pinned on you as if he might shoot lasers from them.

His expression was deceivingly kind. “My name is Martin Brenner. I met you before you died the first time,” he said casually.

“You see, your father and I used to be friends,” he walked a circle around you, before coming front and center again. “He stole valuable information from my laboratory in order to bring you back. You're my property as well, but he decided to keep you from me.”

“My father never mentioned you,” was all you could say. In your peripheral vision, you could tell the others were inching close.

“We could’ve been so great together, Dove. Imagine your contribution to science. And you would not be so uncertain about your powers,” he stepped back to gesture at the boy in the red jumpsuit. “I want to introduce you to Kane. He was reanimated the same way you were, but under my expertise and supervision.”

Kane had a railroad scar on his forehead, and a hand that was a different skin color than the rest of his body. It wasn’t just a different skin tone; it was a body part from an entirely different person.

You thought about all of the love you were raised with, and though your dad fumbled the ball on attentiveness quite a bit, you never doubted how much he cared for you. You were beginning to understand that maybe he didn’t explain what abilities you might have because it would lead you back to Brenner somehow.

The surge of power was growing inside of you, and instead of pushing it down, you let it grow and churn and spill out, creating a type of electrical force field around your body, a vibrating aura of protection.

“Show her what you can do, Kane,” Brenner said.

Not sure what to expect, you watched Kane rubbed his hands together, creating a bright bolt of lightning from the friction, his eyes went milk white, and then he shot an arm out towards the nearest hulking security guard, palm open, and it sent the man in black off his feet, sailing back as if he were hugging an invisible beach ball. He smacked into the side of the opposite neighbor’s trailer with a bone to metal thwack.

Your eyes were fixed for too long on the man slumped in the gravel, and when you turned to face Kane again, he was a few steps closer, peering through his lashes at you with an evil twitch of his lips.

Apparently, you were the next example in his bag of tricks.

Your feet were off the ground before you could process another thought, catching air like a rag doll only to drop down and skid face first into the cold, dry earth.

Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be, eh? Lifting into a push up position, you spat dirt and blood from your mouth with a curse.

Gathering yourself up and into a crouch, you vaguely heard Eddie call your name, but he was still rendered temporarily helpless by the silver, and your head was spinning. Not so much from confusion and fear this time, but more…anger.

You nailed Kane with a heated look, and then your hand lashed out in his direction, though he was yards away, and actual sparks flew from your palm, spitting like fireworks.

Kane was pummeled in the gut with a force he obviously wasn’t expecting, and you kept going before he could find his footing again, knocking him down before he could raise a hand at you again..

“How does that feel?” You bit, towering over him.

In a heartbeat, you lifted Kane’s limp body above your head with a roar that you could not believe came from your own mouth. Arching back, you aimed to drop him over the nearby trailer hitch, which would surely break his back, if not kill him, but then you remembered who you were and faltered.

Blinking, trying to quiet the buzzing in your skull, you knew you did not want to kill this boy.

You understood, even under such duress, that he was only doing what he was told.

But Brenner was actually applauding you, pupils blown from the intensity, urging you to keep going, to murder this stranger at his bidding.

You could’ve very easily ended up just like Kane, if not for the love and protection of your father.

Heaving, trying to calm yourself, you threw Kane’s body in the opposite direction, so that he landed on flat ground that would absolutely hurt, but he’d be able to walk away.

Brenner beamed at you like a parent watching their child take their first steps. “You’re stronger than I’d imagined. Your powers have somehow increased since your inception, and I’d love to know why.”

You squared up with him, making him step back to avoid the sparks actively snapping off of you. “What do you want from me?”

You didn’t have to look to know that all of the guns were trained on you.

“I want you to work for me, Dove. We could change the world together, you and I.”

It felt like he was trying to sell you a car, not asking to hook you up to electrodes and make you his own personal soldier.

“Never,” you were calm now, and you wanted nothing to do with this man or whatever he thought he could do for you.

The flames went higher on the trailer, and in the distance, wails of a fire engine could be heard.

You caught sight of Eddie, but he was flat on the ground now and no longer sitting up.

You rushed by Brenner, slamming into his shoulder as you went, but two of the guards caught you by the arms. It felt like they were stronger than normal men, and when they bared their fangs, you realized they were vampires.

Growling, you flung them off of you, and they went stumbling back as if they weighed nothing, as if you were suddenly impervious to their supernatural strength.

“Kill the boyfriend,” you heard Brenner bark at the men. “Use the wooden bullets this time.”

A gun cocked, and you ran a few steps, but then vaulted over Eddie’s body, arms wide, using yours as a shield.

You felt the bullet impact like a dagger in your back, but it was as if it bounced off somehow instead of penetrating. Eddie barked in pain as you covered him, but then he clung to you as you rolled him under the hearse, away from the gunfire.

Caging yourself on top of him, knees on either side of his hips, and stomachs touching, you could feel how weak he was; the silver enabled his body from healing, and you had to find a way to get them out.

You watched the feet of the one with the wooden bullets approach the vehicle, thinking of your next move when Eddie whispered into the side of your neck: “You’re so fucking beautiful—”

If this was the end for him, this was how he wanted to spend it: with you, being able to see your face one last time.

Before you could respond, there came a shrill, tortured scream, and the booted feet you had your eye on stumbled back.

More agonizing screams, until the body in question dropped to the ground, limbs writhing, and you could see that Bela had attached herself to his head like an Alien facehugger.

Only because he was a vampire, he was able to pull her off, but she took most of his flesh and his nose off with her.

Bela took to the sky again, out of view, and they aimed their guns up at her.

“Not so fast, boys,” a new voice rumbled from the shadows. “I want to play, too.”

Eddie’s shallow breaths moving under you, it was all you could do not to cheer out loud when you realized the voice belonged to Jareth.

And apparently, Jareth brought friends; enough to fill the entire courtyard.

They were crouching on the roofs, on cars, everywhere.

Brenner and his crew were surrounded; Bela had gone to get help.

In the woods, a pack of wolves howled their attendance as well.

Jareth pierced the closest vampire in the heart with a wooden stake and he exploded, guts flying everywhere.

As far as the human bodyguards went, the rest was a bloodbath.

From what you were told later, Kane ran, and Brenner tried to get behind the wheel of the SUV, but instead he was dragged into the war zone and drained dry before being ripped limb from limb.

Jareth wanted to keep the doctor in his dungeon to torture him, but a few of the vampires knew of Brenner and the experiments he’d done on their kind over the years. It was all nothing short of sadistic torture, keeping them barely alive so that he could run experiments on them over time and sell their blood for a profit.

They’d been wanting to get their hands on him for a long time.

—-----

By the time the rescue team and fire truck showed up, all of the vampires had evaporated into the shadows, and you’d snuck Eddie up into your bedroom, carrying most of his weight as he was only able to hobble. You collected his guitar as well, and brought Dio inside, since those were the only two things from the burning wreckage, he voiced a care about. With the lights out and the curtains closed, you used a modest bedside reading lamp to assess the damage. While you were concentrating on him, his eyes never left your face, his heart bursting.

“You might have to suck them out,” he cleared his throat. “The bullets I mean. I’m sorry if that’s weird.”

“You mean, weirder than all of the other shit that happened tonight?” You mumbled, coming back from washing your hands. There was still dirt caked under your nails, possibly some blood, but whatever.

“Good point.”

Until you got the bullets out, any blood you gave him would be useless, so without another moment of hesitation, you crawled up on the bed, springs bouncing, and knelt next to his torso, bracing a hand at either side of him. He was burning up around the sight of each wound, and the skin sizzled as the alloy continued to roast him alive.

The first one was at the surface and came out fast, hot metal on your tongue. The next one, under his right nipple, was deeper and you had to suck harder, making Eddie’s toes curl. You spit each out onto the floor, and strings of his blood mingled in your saliva.

One hand behind his head, the other rested at his hip with a thumb in his belt loop. “So, you’re like…the incredible Hulk, but with powers. That’s pretty badass.”

“I don’t know what I am,” you scoffed, sucking out another, and then pausing to watch the openings seal up and heal. “I’m a waitress, that’s all. That’s all I want to be.”

He nodded, musing on how many times he’d wished he could go back and not be a vampire. He wanted to tell you the story of when he was reborn, but that could wait for another time. Now it was time to put some very messy cards on the table.

The last bullet was deep, and you had to swirl your tongue around in the hole to loosen it.

“I have something I need to tell you,” he blurted while your lips were near his belly button.

“Mmmhmm?”

Fuck, here it goes…

“First, I just want to say that I had no idea who this Brenner guy was before, like, a few months ago,” his next swallow felt like he was chugging a grapefruit. “If I’d have known what a creep, he was I never would’ve…”

You stopped what you were doing to raise your head, waiting for him to finish, the final bit of silver still lodged in his abdomen. “You knew of Brenner? Before all this?”

He couldn’t look at you, he had to stare at the ceiling.

“Uh, yeah, that first week you were here, he tracked me down at the chop shop and said he’d pay me a shit ton of money to keep an eye on you. I didn’t ask a lot of questions. As far as I knew, you were his long-lost daughter, or some shit and he wanted to make sure you were safe.”

You sat back on your knees, trying to let that sink in.

He lifted up to brace himself on an elbow, wincing at the sting of the remaining bullet. “I didn’t know you then, that was before we were…” he fumbled with what he wanted to call you and what you actually were, “...a friend.”

“So,” you frowned down at your hands. “You’re the reason I was kidnapped tonight? The reason all of this happened?” Your wide eyes snapped to him. “Did you set me up?”

He sliced his hand in the air a few times, shaking his head vigorously. “No..nope…I had nothing to do with any of this,” he pleaded. “I only reported back to him for a couple of weeks, and then I stopped, really. After that night I first took you to Sacrament, I told him I was too busy to—”

All of the horrific memories were rushing back to you. “What about the Klemp’s? Did you pay them to hurt me or something? So that I’d have to drink your blood and let you into my head?”

Eddie spoke so fast; he stuttered over his words. “No, absolutely not, never! I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. I would never let anyone hurt you like that.”

“But they did hurt me,” you muttered.

Now it was you who couldn’t look at him, working your jaw muscles as you tried to decide which emotion you should be feeling.

“Why should I even believe you?” Your voice was small.

“Please believe me I—”

“If you knew this guy was stalking me, why didn’t you tell me sooner? If you’re as concerned for my welfare as you claim to be?”

You couldn’t tell if you wanted to cry or scream; maybe both.

Eddie didn’t have a chance to answer. You were on your feet at the end of the bed with your arms crossed.

Suddenly, you were shaking, and you couldn’t control it. “After Sacrament, I didn’t see you for a long time, it felt like you were avoiding me. Was that because you no longer had to fake interest in me for your scam?”

Eddie pushed himself up into a seated position, blinking back the memory of how painfully hard it had been to stay away from you for all that time. “No, you have to trust me, that had nothing to do with—”

“Trust you?” You barked a sarcastic laugh. “Tell me why then? Why avoid me for so long, huh? Because you weren’t getting paid to—”

Eddie’s voice wavered and he spoke in a rush. “Because I started to have feelings for you, that’s why. Happy? Because ever since that first day I saw you, you’re all I can fucking think about. Because I can’t even look at another woman without seeing your face, and believe me, I’ve tried. I’ve gotten real good at disappointing people and leaving people behind, and all I know is, I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Your lips parted to say something, but he figured what the hell, he might as well scare you all the way off while he was at it.

He relaxed his shoulders and wet his lips. “I never told you that I was made vampire against my will. I died and was brought back, but my heart went cold, and I never thought I’d feel anything for anyone ever again. I didn’t want to feel anything. I should’ve stayed dead, I wanted to be with all of the people I’d lost…”

His suede brown eyes sought your face. “When I’m with you, I don’t feel dead anymore. When I think about you, I feel fragile and human again. Like maybe I’ve got something worth giving away.”

Silence filled the room like helium in a balloon about to burst.

He’d gone for broke, and there was nowhere left to hide. He was officially at your feet, where he’d always been.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered when you didn’t respond right away. “I get it.”

You tilted your head all the way back to stare at the ceiling.

“I dream about you every night,” you admitted on an exhale. “Logically I know it has to do with ingesting your blood, but it’s…it’s more than that.”

He bit at the inside of his cheek, picking at a thread on the comforter. “Every night, huh?”

You gave a few slow nods, and you could almost hear the smile pull across his teeth.

“Yeah, so, blood induced dreaming should only happen a handful of times after it’s ingested,” he said, shifting in his seat.

You kept nodding, since that was something you’d already suspected. “The dreams are always so vivid, I wake up…”

He dared to finish for you after a long pause. “Wanting more?”

“No,” you corrected, turning to face him. “I wake up wishing they were real.”

----

I la la la love you all who have reached out to me about this story and continue to cheer it on. Comments, reblogs, and asks about this world mean everything to me.

----

Taglist: @trixyvixx@sllooney@writinginthetwilight@sidthedollface2@atomickaratel8dy@probablyin-bed@kiyastrf94@briamunson92 @joannamuns9n@jasminelafleur @@bellalillyrose @dashingdeb16 @alba8688 @corrodeddeadlydoll@brassreign@likedovesinthewnd @ilovetaquitosmmm @skrzydlak@onegirlmanytales@angietherose@probablyin-bed@reidsbtch@moonbeamsandmayhem@eddiesxangel@hideoutside@secretdryrose@nailbatanddungeon@thorfemmes@corkadymu@kellsck@mrsjellymunson@poofyloofy@dream-a-little-nightmare

#Death Becomes Us #DBU #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson fanfiction #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson angst #Steve Harrington #werewolf!Steve #True Blood au #vampire!eddie #vampire Eddie Munson #supernatural reader #vampires #vampire fic #Spotify

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newtonsheffield · 5 months

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Molly can we get a snippet of the baby making au and the first sonogram? Or the first pregnancy test? How does Kate tell Anthony that she's pregnant?

Oh imagine how excited they would both be to see their baby for the first time.

“Do you need anything?”

Anthony’s knee was bouncing up and down as he sat beside her in the obstetrician’s waiting room.

“What would I need?” Kate chuckled, filling out the form on the clipboard in front of her.

He’d dressed up. She’d realised that when he’d stepped inside her office, his oxfords shined under his chino’s and sweater and a sports coat on over the top and she’d laughed. “Are you… trying to impress my gynaecologist?”

He’d adjusted the sleeve of his jacket, “I’m trying to look like a responsible future parent.”

“And we feel a tweed sports coat does this?”

“Yes, I also think I’m going to grow my beard in properly. It feels very Dad.”

This was one of the reasons he’d been the only person who’d crossed her mind when she’d decided to pursue this. Apart from the fact that he knew her better than almost anyone, Anthony was so… unexpectedly sweet. He’d be a good father. Gentle, and kind, and supportive. He was a nurturer. She’d loved that about him when they’d been together. She loved it about him now. Even now he was looking after her. Trying to look after the child they’d made together.

“I don’t know, I could get you a water. I have a muesli bar in my jacket in case you’re hungry.”

“I’m fine, Ant. I was only a little sick this morning.” Kate sighed, “Do you have any medical conditions in your immediate family I don’t know about.”

“You said you would call me if you were sick.”

“I was a little sick, that might happen again lot the next nine months.”

Anthony clicked his tongue, “Well, I could have brought you something to help.”

“Ant, medical conditions.” She corrected the spiral she could see he was going down. “I did write your lactose intolerance down.”

“Not sure that’s relevant.” Anthony sighed, “But no, nothing really. Greg’s deafness isn’t hereditary.”

Kate nodded, “All done then.”

“I’ll take it back for you.” Anthony leapt to his feet, taking the clipboard from her and striding back towards the desk. He froze, two steps away from her, his shoulders rising and falling heavily.

“What, did you find out I’ve been lying about my age for years?” She teased, her stomach fluttering nervously.

He shook his head, clearing his throat, “No I um… I actually just saw my name listed as the baby’s father and um…” He trailed off, “That feels nice.”

Tears pricked at her eyes and she swiped them away as he sat back beside her, taking her hand. “Stop, you can’t say shit like that Ant Bee.” She’d been using that name for him for nearly 15 years. “I’m too hormonal now.”

“Sorry, I’ll wait like a good boy.”

“Kate!” The Dr called out, gesturing them inside, the paperwork tucked under her arm. “Come on through.”

“Can I…?” Anthony gestured to himself. “Are Dads welcome for this part?”

“That’s up to Kate.”

“Come on,” She tugged on his hand, following the doctor through.

“Kate, congratulations!” The Dr said, sitting behind their desk and gesturing for her to sit on the exam bed. “And his must be your partner.”

Anthony looked awkwardly at the ceiling, and Kate sighed, “This is Anthony. He’s very excited.”

“Okay, well, first things first,”

It was nice, to have Anthony’s hand squeezing hers tightly as she answered the doctors question, Anthony chiming in occasionally to confirm things he’d found in his research, making notes in the notebook he’d brought with him.

“Okay should we look at baby? That’ll help us confirm a due date.”

“But that’s only a guide, I read.” Anthony said quickly and Kate fought to roll her eyes, “And we’ve been trying so we can’t really pin point it.”

“That’s right. It’s just an approximation.”

“It’s not a test, Ant.” Kate chuckled, pulling up her shirt.

“I’m just trying to show that I’m prepared.”

Kate could feel her heart hammering in her chest as the doctor moved the ultrasound over her abdomen, the gel cold against her skin.

“And there’s baby.”

Kate’s heart stopped. It was tiny, flickering over the screen and the heartbeat filled the room. Exactly what she’d wanted. This. To be a mother, even if she had to do it alone.

Anthony’s hand squeezed hers and his voice cracked, tears welling in his eyes, “You’re a mum, Katie. They’re beautiful.”

Tears welled in her own eyes and her chest felt tight, “And you’re a dad.”

Anthony let out a watery chuckle, “God, I need to get started on that beard.”

“The heartbeat’s really fast.”

“The heart beat’s very strong. Baby looks very healthy.” The Dr hummed, “Should we get some photos?”

Kate nodded, swiping at her tears, “Sorry, I’m just so emotional at the moment.”

“Happens all the time. We’re out of tissues in here, sorry. There’s some in the lounge.”

“I’ll get some tissues.” Anthony breathed, swiping his own tears before he kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be back. God, you’re incredible.”

The door shut quickly and Kate took a deep breath, leaning back against the back of the bed.

“He’ll be a very sweet Dad.” The Dr said conversationally. “How long have the two of you been together?”

They’d agreed there was no need to let the doctor in on their arrangement, it didn’t matter. And Kate shouldn’t have said it, it wasn’t right to claim him. But she couldn’t help herself.

“Um… We met when we were sixteen.”

“That’s so sweet!”

“Yeah, he’s um… he’s a sweetie.”

And he was also the other thing she’d always wanted.

#kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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bullet-prooflove · 2 months

Note

Sending hugs always!

He hides his heart and hurt because he kinda had to

For Mitch Ripley, please and thank you!

Tagging: @spaghettificationandpretzels @mini-bee-bee @mandy426 @phoward89 @kmc1989

Companion piece to

Drove All Night - Mitch hates the idea of you spending your birthday alone.

Seperation!Series:

Marley 2.0 - Mitch doesn't realise your hiding a secret from him.

Not Your Problem - Mitch feels you pulling away from him.

In the weeks after Mitch leaves you he locks away every vulnerable part of himself into a little box and tosses away the key. He self-medicates, upping his medication because he doesn’t want to feel a God damn thing. His world becomes grey again, he’s stoic, numb. It’s the only way he can cope with the end of his marriage.

There’s radio silence from the both of you. He sees you in passing at the hospital but you don’t speak to one another, he can’t even look at you. He knows there’s rumours flying, but Mitch can’t even bring himself to care. Nothing touches him anymore.

He’s filling in one of his patient charts when LJ appears alongside him, completing the intake paperwork from an accident that occurred with a tractor. Mitch has managed to avoid the other man up until this point, he simply pretends he doesn’t exist.

“I’m sorry to hear about you and Marley.” LJ says and Mitch just shrugs his shoulders.

“Why?” He says despondently. “You can have her all to yourself now, I’m not in the way anymore.”

“I don’t understand...” LJ says as Mitch stares down at the tablet in his hand, his knuckles turning while as he grips it.

“I know about the two of you.” Mitch says tilting his head towards LJ, meeting the other man’s gaze. “That it started in St Clair, continued when you got back home.”

“What? That’s not…”

Mitch shakes his head, cutting the other man off.

“I don’t care.” He tells him because honestly he doesn’t want to hear the denials and all that shit, he’s too exhausted, too emotionally wrung out. “The two of you can do what the fuck you want. I didn’t fucking care.”

He walks away then, the tablet cradled to his chest because that ache he’s been trying to push away, it’s back with a vengeance. He heads to his locker and he pops another pill, and then another. He’s lost track of how many he’s up to, all he knows is he’ll take as many as he can to drown out the misery that keeps rising up inside of him.

He spends the next few hours in a dissociative state, people talk to him and he responds but it’s all automatic. He doesn’t recall these conversations, he only has an awareness of them.

He’s refilling his water bottle when the seizure happens. There’s a raising sensation in his stomach, his arms start to tingle and he’s rocked by a sudden wave of nausea. The water bottle slips from his hand, clattering to the floor as the lightheadness hits and his entire world slips sideways. He smashes his head on the way down, it bounces off the coffee table, knocking him out as his body hits the tiles.

It's ten minutes later that Hannah Asher finds him, sprawled out, broken, bleeding.

You’re the first person she calls.

Love Mitch? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#mitch ripley #mitch ripley x reader #mitchell ripley #mitchell ripley x reader #one chicago #chicago med

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dianesdiaries · 3 months

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scorched earth| Homelander x Y/N

Synopsis/AU;Homelander becomes a madman after Vought decides they have the better facilities of taking care of Ryan, realizing the pain and abandonment he went through Ryan would believe his dad left him to face. In a fitted rage, he destroys the Vought building one by one, taking a life every minute it takes to return his boy. Y/N is assigned to the special forces team responsible for 'cleaning up his mess', and ensuring that nobody gets hurt. By the time special units have reached the building, Homeland's already taken a liking to toppling down dominoes.

TW: lots of violence in this one! I didn't really know what to write but I thought it would be a cool idea to see homelander go cray cray again lol

NOTE: this is short but I feel like would make a rlly good part 2 lmk!

I searched the premises top to bottom, looking for any signs of imperfections left behind in his massacre. God knows what he had in store for the rest of the world, and not one person has a single clue what could've led to this trajectory. I watched as bright stars peaked in the sky, cameras and vans swarming the building like bees to a nest. My gun slinged along my arm as I slowly watched the stars get closer, and closer..

It was bodies.

The sound of bones mushing into pavement made my stomach hurl. But when it rains, it pours. Dozens of civilians began falling from the sky, bouncing off the concrete in sync to the sounds of blood curling screams arising amongst viewers. I know, I was assigned to special forces for a reason. But he's lost his damn mind.

"All units, Move in! NOW! RIGHT FUCKING NOW! I SEE ONE MORE BODY DROPS ITS GONNA BE YOU!" The chief demanded, his coffee splattered across his long tattered coat in a fuel of rage. Hoisting into gear, I took one last look at the pain behind me. News vans scampered back and forth across the roads looking for a way out, avoiding the bloody trouble Homelander had flung into their direction. But something was wrong. I began to sweat, and it didn't stop. Drops of water began covering into my helmet vision, tactical gear cooking my body as the temperature increased. Metal scraping against brick made my ears squeal, quickly retreating into the building for safety. Red lasers danced across the city scape, quickly sawing whatever came into its way.

The building couldn't be any more worst than outside. Scarlet red painted the walls like an artists' touch, the main floor wiped of human life. I was assigned no other job but to simply talk to him, my guys in route watching closely as we made our way to the elevator. Quickly, I swiped my feet at the feeling of someone's touch, backing away in terror. There lay A-Train, who once was the world's fastest man quickly turned to nothing but broken bones. He crawled gently towards my ankle, pleading with his eyes as he winced in pain. "Send a paramedic team in, now. He's still got time" I demanded, the group of SWAT enforced men looked at me puzzled. "You're going up there, alone?..." one brave suit asked, I couldn't see his face but his tone ensured everyone was equally as terrified. I could see right through the supes facade, Homelander didn't scare me not one bit. I nodded my head in approval, the boys quickly sweeping to A-Train's rescue as they steadily carried the poor runner out of the building. I stared at the hopeless elevator entrance ding open, inhaling deeply as the doors closed behind me. Soft elevator music hummed in my ear, steadying my heart beat to a soft thump. I had to be prepared for the worst of it all, he could cut me into two pieces by the time the door opened and nobody would know until it was too late.

39,40...41.....42..........42.....

The elevator came to a holt, its bright led numbers flickering as the music came to a stop. My feet jolted below me, holding steadily to the railing as I waited in silence. He knew I was here. He knew someone was coming. My heart roared through my chest as I struggled to catch my breath, what the fuck was I thinking taking this job?

distress fled into my body, watching the doors pry open to the grip of ruby-red gloves. I fled to the ground, covering my head with my heads, watching the door opening wider. And wider. His cold distilled blue eyes emerged from the peak, analyzing me through the small crack. Homelander demanded, "Take off the helmet and let me see your face", watching my hands unravel from fetal position as my breath quivered. Slowly emerging from my helmet, I took the might of speaking up. "Homelander, I know your stressed... I'm not sure what happened, but.. we can work through this-". In the blink of an eye, the metal doors tore as gracefully as paper, falling into the ever abyss of the metropolitan below. My pupils constricted at the sight of him, his face was dim in expression and yet said so many things. His once "all American dream" blue suit covered in the blood of his coworker's, his hair a frilled mess, mania scampered in his eyes to the sound of his laughs. The dazed man grabbed my neck in a grip, and pulled me towards the gravel of the roof. I could feel my heart drop into my stomach, watching him edge closer and closer to the end of the building. "Homelander, wait.. Homelander please d-don't do this! Listen, okay? I'm Y/N, now you know me. Just tell me what happened, I'll listen!", pleading for my life as my gear scraped across the floor. The crazed supe held my head against the edge, a thousand feet of death kissing my eyes in return.

"They took my son. Away from me. My son is gone. you're going to tell me where he is. Or you can go say hi to your friends for me" he said, my hands pushed in denial as I screamed at the force of his body swinging me back and forth. "Where is Ryan! Goddamnit-where is he!" Homelander roared, his eyes holding threat in a bright neon red, I could feel my life draining from me in the moment. I had to think quick. I could keep my job, and do as I'm told. Or, I could save my life. I could do what I was good at. What Butcher taught me best. Rationalizing.

"Listen- look, okay? I can help you find Ryan, but you got to let me go! Without me, not a single fucking person at Vought would tell you his whereabouts. Besides, what they did to you.. Could be happening to him as we speak. Y-You want that?", my words could be playing with fire. But I had to give it a shot. Homelander laughed in mockery of my bravery, hastily letting go of me as he clapped and laughed in rejoice. The man's madness made me sick to my core. I could feel fresh acid forming like a lump in my throat, but I had to keep composure. I couldn't show I was scared. He would kill me without hesitation. He paced back and forth in thought of my offer, hands on his hips as I tried to catch my breath and pushed up against a corner of the roof. The screams from below echoed like the gates of hell, I could tell it was riling him up. "I have an idea, but.. We need to do it my way. You understand? No diverting, no nothing" I exclaimed, he looked across at me as blood dripped off his icy blonde tips stained a muck brown. "We leave. Now. Before they find out you were responsible for this, we can pinpoint it on another supe and you get Ryan back. Homelander- if this gets on the news...", I carefully stared back into his cold gaze, gulping at the words stuck in my throat. "You might not ever see Ryan again if Vought finds out you did this" I said.

The supe almost took that as a challenge, raising his eyebrow at my comment. "Really? And what makes you think I'll listen to you?" he chuckled, approaching slowly as I backed my heels into the ground. He towered carelessly over me, crouching low to meet my gaze. The smell of death reeked off his clothes, his teeth blinked brighter than the sky filled with mourning souls. Without thinking, the man lifted me carefully and began to back away from the building, I could feel our bodies lift off the ground and up towards the clouds. It calmed me, to know that I was able to do something perfectly for once. The one moment that could've possibly ruined my entire life, I saved myself. But I couldn't save the others

"Before we go.. You want to see something cool? I've been meaning to do this for a while" he chuckled, stopping in position as we levitated above the downtown metropolitan. The feeling of course hot beams almost burned through my suit, as I watched the Vought building explode into an array of flames. The building's base was untouched, Homelander squealed in laughter watching people rush onto the streets like ants. "They had what was fucking coming for them. And they knew it. Nobody to blame but themselves, right Y/N? I mean, you have to agree. We're friends now. And you!-You Are going to get me my boy back", his head shook vigorously as if he agreed with his own sentence, looking at me for the approval of his message. I understood that he was setting me up, but two can play that game. "We need to see Butcher. Now. He'll know what to do" I explained, my eyes refused to watch the city below. I had nowhere to look but right into his eyes. And I prayed that he could feel the hatred feeling through my body. Effortlessly, the dazed supe began to track throughout the clouds, elevating so the bare naked eye could barely see us through the cotton-field of clouds.

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short-honey-badger · 1 year

Note

please more daddy shanks smut…your writing is amazing…🥹👉🏾👈🏾 can you please write one where he spanks the reader for teasing him…and it ends in him praising y/n for taking her punishment…she has to make it up by getting on her knees..she’s a lil inexperienced but it turns him on and he guides/praises her through it…at the end she gets rewarded with a mating press, lots of kisses & praise, creampie. 🥺🥺🥺 and then more praise and cuddles all soft n subby n fucked out by the safety and dominance of daddy shanks 🥺🥺🥺😩

Anon, this is for you. Thank you for a lovely prompt and I hope you enjoy it! I tried my best to get in what you asked!

Distracted

"Did you even pay attention to a word I just said?" Yasopp grunts at his Captain and Shanks just gives him a crooked grin. It wasn't his fault! How could he be blamed for not paying attention to his sniper when You were fluttering around the bar like a busy bee with such a low-cut shirt on? He swore that you wore his favorite shirt just to tease him, so yeah. There was little inside the tavern that could get his attention away from how nicely your tits bounced. He couldn't wait to get you back to the Red Force, Shanks needed to make sure you knew better than to tease him like this in front of everyone.

"Nope," he drawled, popping the p of the word. He doesn't even look at his sniper, unwilling to take his eyes off you for even a second. "Didn't hear a word."

Yasopp scoffs at him and shoves off the bar to go and join his other crew mates. There was no speaking to Shanks when he got like this. Not that the sniper blamed his Captain. You were beautiful, and everyone in the crew knew that Shanks would move the world for you. That didn't mean that his Captain wasn't a possessive bastard though, and he didn't like it when other men looked a bit too long.

Shanks hardly notices that his crewmate leaves, too absorbed by you still. He watches you for a while longer, eyes shadowed by his hair and face with the lip of his mug. He isn't jealous or angry with you fluttering about and having fun. He isn't that kind of man, but if he has to watch one more unworthy sleaze ball try and make a grab for your ass, he was going to level this entire establishment.

As to not have the entire island chasing his crew away from the island, Shanks finishes off his drink and drops more than enough cash to pay for it all. He hops off his stool, keeping you in sight as he crosses the tavern to the exit. He waits patiently for you to breeze by and then snaps his hand out to grab your waist. He tugs you to his chest, and a weight lifts from his shoulders at having you close to him,

"Hey there, little lady." He purrs and then kisses the shell of your ear, "How about I show you a good time."

You snort in laughter at his antic. It's been a few years since Shanks had stolen you away, and you've not regretted it since. He'd given you more freedom than you ever had on your own, "Aw," you coo, and a grin comes over your face, "Does Daddy need my attention?" You feel brazen with the alcohol in your system. Usually, it would be Shanks to instigate this.

Shanks chuckles and nods, "Daddy always needs his baby's attention," he nudges his hips against your lower back and your grin widens when you feel his hard length pressed against you, "Let's get outta here."

Before you can even think of a response, your Captain is already dragging you out of the establishment and out to the streets of the sleepy little town. Shanks presses you up against the door of his room when the two of you make it to the Red Force, easily slipping his arm under your ass and lifting you up. Your legs wrap around his waist and Shanks groans when his cock grinds against your clothed core. He kisses you like it's his last day on the planet, drool leaking past your swollen lips when Shanks sucks your tongue in his mouth.

He sucked at the wriggling appendage and ruts his hips into your own. He feels sixteen again, a boy trying to find any pleasure he could while out at sea with a ship full of men. You must focus on breathing through your nose, your expression lust-filled and open for Shanks to see. When breathing gets a bit too difficult, you grab him by his shoulders and shove yourself back with a gasp. Shanks doesn't let up, instead focusing his attention on your neck where he leaves behind a masterpiece of of harsh bites and hickeys.

"Sh-Shanks." You whine and are punished with a more painful bite than the rest. You were the one who instigated the agreement the moment you called him Daddy back in the bar. You are his little girl now, so you had best call him by the correct title.

"Sorry, Daddy." You correct yourself softly and feel your liver grin against your neck.

"Good girl, Baby." He praises and you flush in glee. It was no secret to him that he knew that you enjoyed it when the powerful man smothered you in sweet words and affirmations. However, a nervous dread wells up when Shanks pulls away and you catch the considering look he was giving you. You are suddenly sat down and Shanks steps away to sit on the bed, leaning back and cocking his head to the side. You shift in front of him, nervous at his sudden change in attitude.

"You made Daddy jealous today, ya know." He begins and you look at him in confusion. "Don't play dumb, Sweetheart. You wore my favorite shirt, how could I not think that you wanted to tease me all night?" He presses and you glance down to see that you indeed are wearing his favorite shirt. The one that makes your tits look damn good. You hadn't realized that you had put it on earlier.

Your cheek burns at the accusation, "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to tease you," you murmur and look away from his piercing gaze with a frown.

Shanks lets out a world-weary sigh and then pats his lap," Come 'ere, Baby," He orders and you scramble to go to his side, "lay across my lap, face down." You do what he asks slowly this time, movements unsure as you settle across his lap. Shanks jerks your pants down and you shiver when the cool air of the cabin ghosts over your bare ass.

His hand feels huge as it rubs over the globe of your ass and you tense when his fingers dip between your legs to gently pet your folds. He plays with you for a bit, just long enough that he can feel you begin to get wet on the tips of his fingers before he pulls away. You are about to ask why he stopped when his hand comes down and he spacks your ass Hard.

"Gah!" you exclaim and jump forward on his lap in shock. He lands another smack that has you yelping again, eyes wide as you glance back at him. His hand gently rubs your ass, taking some of the pain away before he strikes you again three more times in quick succession. Tears have started to fall, staining your cheeks and the fabric of his pants.

"I'm doing this for your own good, Sweetheart," Shanks coos down at you, tone apologetic and he gently rubs your sore cheek again, "You gotta remember that I don't like it when other men see you and think they can have you. Think that they can touch you," his hand digs into and you whine at the pinch of his nails. You can't see it, but the grin Shanks wears is mean, his annoyance with the other men from earlier rising up.

"I-I'm sorry, Daddy!" You tell him loudly, voice thick from the tears in your throat. "Only want you. No one else can do what you do."

Shanks shushes you quietly, "I know that, Baby," he assures you and his grip lessens, hand stroking your red flesh, "But sometimes I just can't help myself. I wanted to tear that whole place down when I seen that guy try and touch you," he admits and you shiver at his dark tone. It's rare that Shanks gets this way, but it turns you on every time.

Your thoughts are interrupted when Shanks delivers another smack to your opposite cheek and fresh tears slide down your face, "So I think I deserve a reward for holding back."

You find yourself nodding frantically, "Anything for you, Daddy," you tell him and peek over your shoulder to look at the redhead, "I want you to feel good too."

Shanks grins down at you, "Yeah? You wanna make Daddy feel nice?" He repeats and you nod again, moving to stand up from his lap and he lets you, eyes never leaving your shanking legs and exposed tits from where your shirt had ridden up. You could kick him while he was down, and Shanks would still say thank you. Others called him whipped but he couldn't care less what they thought of him. "Then get on your knees for me, Baby. I wanna see your lips wrapped around my cock."

You gulp as you settle on your knees in between his legs. While you didn't mind sucking him off, you didn't do it very often, so you weren't very confident in your skills. Shanks had always been a giver, so it was rare when he wanted this.

However, your worries are easily assured cause of course Shanks had spotted your rising nerves, "Don't worry Babygirl," Shanks reassured you and his hand met your chin, tilting your face up and brushing his thumb along your lower lip, "I'll help you."

A relieved smile crossed your face and you pressed a kiss to his plan, "Thank you, Daddy," You murmur and then reach for his pants when he drops his hand. You pull the elastic of his flashy pants, and like usual, your Captain isn't wearing any underwear, so his cock springs out when you shove them down his thighs. You admire his cock, mouth watering at the sight of the red tip smeared with precum. Shanks takes his dick in hand, leading it so that the tip presses against your lips. He smears the sticky fluid across your lips and grins at the way your eyes flutter.

"Open your mouth, Seastar," Shanks urges gently and taps the head twice against your lower lip. Slowly, your jaw drops open and Shanks groans when your tongue smooths across his leaking cock. You click your tongue at the taste, it's salty but doesn't taste bad.

"Now wrap your lips around the head, Sweetheart," Your Daddy orders and you do as told, stretching your mouth wide to accommodate his girth, "Now suck. Use your tongue on the bottom side, Baby," Shanks coaches.

Your brows furrow in concentration and focus on breathing through your nose. Shanks slips in further and sighs happily when he feels your tongue work against his shaft. You look so damn pretty with your lips taunt around his dick, "That's it, Baby, You're doing so well taking my cock. Not too much is it?"

You know that he expects you to answer, so you make a positive sound in the back of your throat. Shanks nods once and then finds one of your hands, tugging it up and having you wrap your hand around his dick. He helps you find a rhythm for the length of him that you can't fit in your mouth yet and then lets his hand fall away so you can do it yourself. You feel full, mouth stuffed with nothing but Shanks, and you can taste the kind of life he lives.

The Yonko's eyes never leave your face, dark gaze memorizing the way your face flushes when you catch him watching you. His hips buck at the sight and you sputter when the tip hits the back of your throat. His hand slips in your hair to hold you still and Shanks pushes even further and you whine at the uncomfortable feeling. He tugs gently on your hair, "Relax your throat, Baby," He growls out.

You struggle to do what he says, eyes clenching shut and Shanks finds himself slipping. He can't help himself when his hips twitch again and he thrusts shallowly, trying to wait so you can get used to him. You choke more than a few times, spit, and precum leak from your lips and Shanks can't get enough of watching you take him like the good girl you are.

"Come on, Sweetheart. I know that you can take the rest of me," Shanks says but it sounds more like a demand to your ears. Your hands grip his thighs tightly and you dare to open your eyes to look up at the Yonko. His blissed-out expression makes all the discomfort worth it, and hearing this powerful man moan for You sent shivers straight down your spine and had you leaking from your core. However, the Yonko was big and you were already struggling to take him now. How were you supposed to take more?

You find out when Shank suddenly grips your hair tightly and shoves most of his cock done your throat. You sputter, hands gripping his legs and digging your nails in harshly. Your breath is raspy even through your nose and the fullness of it surprises you. Instead of retreating, Shanks holds himself there, dark gaze never leaving your face as he watches you struggle to take him, "Relax, Baby," he coos to you and you are left to try and do what he says again.

Shanks loses track of how long he has you on your knees, but he is so proud of the progress you have made. You are so close to being able to take all of him, but he didn't want to push you too far tonight. the pirate finally takes pity on you and pulls out of your mouth with a love-stricken look, "You did so well, Seastar," He tells you and you breathe deeply and rest your head on his thigh. He strokes your hair, pulling the damp strands away from you're face, "I think it's your turn now, huh?"

You nod dumbly, not quite ready to speak right now. Shanks lifts you easily, disposing of your clothes and then laying you on your back on the bed, and tucking a mound of pillows under your hips. Another one that smells heavily of Shanks is tucked under your head and then your lover disappears for a moment. He comes back with a glass bottle and hands it to you, "Just water, Sweetheart. Don't want you to get dehydrated."

You drink deeply and then hand the bottle back. When Shanks comes back, he settles between your legs and pushes your ankles together with ease, "Hold these up for me, Honey," He tells you and you reach out to grip your thighs, pulling them back until your knees bracket your ears. He places kisses on your inner thigh and then closer to where you want him most. He doesn't make you wait, gathering spit and laving over your cunt. Shanks needs you wet and quick. the redhead had teased you both long enough.

Your legs shake but you keep a good hold on them. You come embarrassingly quick, but Shanks only groans as you gush over his tongue. It makes it easier for him to coat his middle three fingers. It may hurt, but he knows that you can take them.

The instruction is swift, and you bow off the bed, crying out his name on accident, "Fuck! Sh-Shanks!" your legs twitch and his finger curl just right to send you into another orgasm. The sounds in the room are positively filthy as Shanks eats you out, and you know that he won't let you forget tonight for a long time.

"Shit, Baby. I can't wait any longer," Shanks huffs out and rises, and you get a good view of your Captain stroking his cock from between your legs. He shuffles forward and positions himself at your entrance and with a hiss sinks balls deep into your pussy. You whine, high-pitched and loud as he fills you up just the way you like it.

Shanks doesn't waste any time and sets a brutal pace, hips pounding into your own hard enough there is sure to be some tenderness later on. Even pussy drunk and snarling like an animal, Shanks was careful to not hurt you. You know he is close when his pace falters and becomes erratic, and soon he is bowing over you and capturing your lips in a bruising kiss as he comes deep inside of you. You pulse around him, creaming around him seconds after and you milk his cock greedily.

"That's it, Baby. Take Daddy's cum. Let me fill you up," He snarls against your lips and then seals them together again as he continues to thrust until you are wincing at the overstimulation and pushing weakly at his shoulders. Shanks stops quickly when he notices the signs of true pain, pulling out with a groan and grinning down at the sticky mess that coats his cock and your thighs.

You grimace at the lewd sounds and Shanks laughs at your curled lip. His expression is soft and he sits back so that you can lower your legs, and your face shifts to a wince at the change in angle, "You okay, Sweetheart?" He asks and has already stood to retrieve a wet cloth to clean the both of you up.

"I'm fine. Haven't broken me yet, Daddy," You tell him, voice still raspy and slurred. Shanks huffs at your remark, and curls around you, tucking you close then burning his face in your hair to breathe you in. The two of you would rest for a bit and then be back up to continue to party. It had been too long since the crew of the Red Force happened upon such a nice island, so it would be a shame to miss out on the fun.

#fanfic #one piece #reader insert #smut #red haired shanks #shanks #shanks x reader #shanks x y/n #shanks x you #answered #daddy shanks

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judasgot-it · 8 months

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🫵🏻I need tecchou’s slow dance with this s/o pleeeeeeaaaasw😩

I shouldn't be writing this since I have so many requests on the backlog but BUT I love slowdancing and I have an entire playlist for this (multiple actually. Tecchou come home please)

How Deep Is Your Love - Bee Gees

Scenario: Slow dancing with Husband!Tecchou <3 (also this got so horribly cheesy and off the rails so erm)

Eating lunch with your husband was something you always tried to fit into your schedule - you were both busy people, but there was always room to go and make time for one another.

But it would only last for so long. Half an hour. Sometimes, even less on busier days. So today was special because Tecchou was forcing you to stay.

Usually, when you would begin to walk out of his office, you would linger by the door and watch as he cranked another long workout in. Today he didn't bother to do that, however. This time, he didn't let you even leave your chair, instead pulling you by your hands to stand close to him, breathing in his scent.

He smelled like the leftovers of his plumeria cologne, the scent mingling with the iron tang of his clothes. His hair was close enough to tickle your nose, making you want to sneeze.

"I think we should dance."

Tecchou pulled you closer by your waist, swaying the two of you gently - like blades of grass. Neither of your feet left their spot, your hands still finding their spots between one another.

"I don't remember the last time we did that."

You placed your fingers along his bicep, feeling how the fabric pulled from his muscles. Your other hand entangled with his, placed between your chests.

Tecchou took the lead, practically dragging you on top of him as he stepped backward. You stumbled, trying to find your footing as you sat practically on top of his legs.

"Sorry. I kind of forgot."

"I walk backward. So you walk forward. Did you forget our wedding night?"

You pouted up at him, squeezing his hand a little too tightly as you began your proper dance together. Tecchou blinked down at you, smirking a little.

"You'd be great as a commander."

He kissed your forehead, his soft lips warming up your cold skin. You groaned, a smile stretching across your face.

"That makes me sound like an asshole or something, you're so mean."

"You are. Sometimes. I would never forget our wedding night."

Tecchou stepped away to let you turn, watching as you watched your feet to avoid stumbling again. The two of you were alone, but you were still so careful - to Tecchou, it was adorable to watch how concentrated you were.

He made sure to stay close to your side, making sure he wouldn't let you almost fall (again) as you stepped close to him again. Your hands moved to their positions easily, although Tecchou's instead were wrapped around you, holding you in a warm embrace.

"I think I held you just like this and knew that I wanted to stay there forever."

He mumbled this into your ear, his lips brushing against your helix. Your face grew warm, your fingers pulling at the nape of his neck. The heavy breath whined against your skin was hot, your body aching to feel more of his touch.

"What else do you remember about it? I remember how much I loved to call you my husband that night."

You pulled away a bit, just enough to look at Tecchou's face. His face was slightly flushed, contrasting the way his golden eyes shined towards you.

"I've been calling you my wife since the day that I met you. I don't think I could let anyone else have that honor."

He moved to pull one of your hands to lie in between the both of you - right between your chests, where your hearts lay. You could feel how his heart beat just as fast as yours, almost jumping to touch your hand.

"Did it feel different on that day?"

Stupidly, you had picked a fight you couldn't win with his hair - pushing it away from his face only for it to stubbornly bounce back into place once more. It led you to keeping your hand against his sternum, holding it back so you could see as much of his face you could.

"It just felt right."

He whispered this against your lips, before pressing his own against yours messily - the same way he always had. This kiss was lingering, however, taking as much time as he could.

His body pressed against yours as you danced an uneven dance backward - taking small steps toward what you both only hoped to be what was a wall.

Your break could be extended for a bit.

One day writing all of these Tecchou asks is gonna make me become one of those tiktok book authors one day. maybe i felt this was so cheesy i couldn't help but rolling eyes like....im the author why am i like this.

#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #tecchou x reader #bsd x y/n #tecchou bsd #tecchou x you #tetcho x reader #tetchou x you #tecchou x y/n #i love himm

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13as07 · 5 months

Text

Little Lady #1

(Obito Uchiha)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to mocca1226]

Requested by: Anonymous

Word Count: 4,024

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Injuries/Stab Wounds/Blood

Sorry but you’re request is going to be a two-parter

———————————————————————

"Daku?" I call for my cat after the sound of the fruit bowl getting knocked over - again - wakes me up. As I shift in bed, the feeling of my cat fast asleep on my chest is very apparent. My movements wake up Daku, making him stand up before he stretches himself out. "Daku?" I call quietly this time, panic brewing in my chest.

My cat ignores me, jumping off the bed, and strutting across the room before nuzzling my door open. "Daku?" I call again, trying to keep my panic out of it. If the cat didn't knock over the fruit bowl, what or who did?

I stay silent, slowly crawling to the end of my bed. My eyes bounce around my room as I move, looking for any kind of weapon. My sights fall on my knitting needles poking out of the basket of yarn resting by the door. Not the best choice but still sharp and deadly with enough intent behind them.

"Hello Kitty," a soft voice filters into my room, followed by the sound of my cabinets squeaking opening. "Is your human still asleep? I hope so. What's your name?" The imposer continues to coo over my cat, the bell on his collar ringing from being moved.

I keep my movements slow as I climb out of my bed, inching toward my door left cracked open by Daku. I tug the needles out of the basket too, keeping a good grip on them. I continue to inch to the side, taking a peak outside my door. Limited information is better than no information in this situation.

Sat on my kitchen floor is a man... I think? He's seated criss-cross, Daku lying in his lap enjoying the petting he's receiving. The man's shirt is off, hanging off the countertop. Random patches of pure white coats his shoulder, the same whiteness painted across his hands, and different dotting across his chest.

I shift backward, resting against the wall as I think over what to do. What the hell? Who's in my kitchen? What's in my kitchen? Why my kitchen? Why my cat? What can I do? Wait and see what he does? There's not much to steal, so maybe he'll leave easily.

"Come back, kitty cat," the intruder calls, Daku's bell ringing again, this time paired with footsteps.

I take another peak around the door frame, my cat bee-lining for me with the intruder trudging after him, making me panic. I try to shoo him away, my fear growing more the closer Daku gets. Daku, being as black cat as ever, ignores me, shoving the door wider before climbing into my lap.

I scoop him up, keeping him trapped against me as I point the sharp ends of the needles towards the burglar making his way towards us. He slowly pushes the door further open, his sights instantly locked on me. The intruder blinks slowly, cutting off the sights of his weird eyes. They're both swirled, one is purple with multiple swirls, and the other red with a single swirl and a boomerang-like symbol stamped into it. The skin surrounding the red eye covered in scars, easily fifteen to twenty scars decorating half his face. "Hello," he whispers, his voice low and husky instead of the soft cooing like before.

"Hello," I whisper back, trying to keep my voice strong instead of shaky. I do good at disguising my voice, not so much my hands. They shake as I point my needles at the man, the tips swaying from my nerves.

The man tilts his head a bit, eyes bouncing from the knitting needles to my face. "Do you... not have any real weapons?" He asks, the softer voice spilling out this time. What the hell is up with this voice change? A personality disorder maybe?

"Yes, I do," I lie through my teeth, the crack in my voice causing the man to giggle.

"I don't think you do," he continues to whisper, slowly shifting down so he's closer to my level, knees bent almost to his chest, hands on the ground to help him balance, and only an inch or two away from sitting on the floor. "I'm pretty sure you live by yourself too. A lady should be trained on self-defense if she's alone."

"Maybe I am trained," I race out, shifting the needle position so they're pointed at his neck. His neck is also half coated in pure white... flesh? "Maybe I'm a shinobi."

"You have terrible posture. You are not a shinobi," the deeper voice rings out, the silence left after it filled by a soft smile. "My apologies, I..." he giggles, closing his eyes as he tilts his head again, sending another smile my way. "I don't mean you any harm," he adds on, opening his eyes again, his smile less bright now. "I am a bit ill at the moment. I - demand," the deeper voice bargains in, making the man snap his mouth shut as he slowly blinks his eyes. "Apologies, again ma'am. I would appreciate medical aid and some food perhaps. Then I'll be on my way. No harm will be done to you... or your cat."

"Medical aid?" I mutter, glancing around his bare skin. There's a lacerations littered across the man, some shallow, some deep, some on his chest, and some on his arms. All of which are leaking blood. "I... I can do that."

"Great! What a lovely lady!" He cheers, snatching the needles from me. He looks around, tossing the needles into the yarn basket. "Let us stitch me up," he continues, scooping up Daku in one arm while he uses the other to tug me to my feet.

I'm dragged out of my bedroom and tugged into the kitchen. What the hell is going on? Why did I agree to give this man medical attention? Because I'm a nurse and it's my job. Because I don't know what this man will do if I say no. Because I'm a flight-er, not a fighter.

"Alright, do your thing little lady," the Intruder chirps, releasing my arm from his. He jumps onto the counter, placing Daku in his lap. My cat willingly - and happily - lays down, enjoying the belly rubs he's receiving once again.

I stand frozen for a moment, my mind split between the situation in front of me and the items I need to patch up my intruder. Wash my hands. That's the first step. I need to wash my hands.

My body jumps into action, moving forward, toward the sink. I quickly wash my hands, shaking them instead of wiping them off on the dish towel since I'm not sure the last time it's been washed. Pressure, clean, ointment, bandage. I repeat the steps in my head as I bend down, pulling out the box I use as a first aid kit.

"I should have guessed that," the man mutters, pulling my attention back toward him. "One of these days I'm going to learn to check under the sink," he says to my cat, dangling Daku before setting him on the counter.

My mind seems to be off as I start the steps, heading towards the intruder on my countertop. After setting the box down, I snap it open, taking out a good chunk of gauze to start adding pressure to one of his wounds.

The man looks down at me, his sight intense as he watches me slowly stop the bleeding from his multiple wounds. "You're making me nervous," I whisper, dropping the blood-soaked gauze on the counter to cut off a clean chunk, three or four wounds left still trickling with blood.

"Why are you nervous?" The man asks, his hand raising and resting on my shoulder. I jerk away from the touch, quickly blinking my eyes to try and calm myself down. "Don't do that. That's not how you treat a friend."

"We're not friends," I whisper, lifting the gauze to check the wound.

"Of course we are. How aren't we friends?"

"You broke into my house. You could murder me... or worse. You don't know anything about me and I sure don't know anything about you."

The man falls quiet, his eyes locked on me as I toss out the pile of blood-soaked gauze before I shift my attention to wetting a rag. "My name is... Obito," he mutters, stalling for a moment. "They call me Tobi at work though. I work for the Akatsuki." The confusion sends shivers down my spine, packing on another layer of fear. "Don't be scared, little lady. No harm will come to you."

"It's hard to believe that," I whisper, turning around and slowly making my way back toward him. "You work for a terrorist group. Are you going to kill me?" The question feels heavy falling from my mouth, but it feels heavier hanging in the air. Somehow, patting the man - Obito - with the washcloth, cleaning his wounds and the blood covering his two shaded skin keeps me calm.

"Little Lady," he coos, the same softness he used on Daku. Obito's hand settles on my shoulder again, only for a moment before it's cupping my neck. "I wish for peace in the world. Hurting someone helping me, someone not in my way, or defying me would not bring peace. Don't worry your pretty mind, Little Lady."

That doesn't help any.

————————————

"Little Lady? Little Lady?" A voice lulls softly, slowly pulling me out of sleep. Quickly the grogginess is snapped away and replaced by fear. My body jerks, my fist flying toward the sound. "You're a lot feistier this time," the voice from last week continues to filter out, the man catching my fist. Unlike last time, my intruder's face is covered by an orange mask with a single hole, showing off his red glowing eye.

"How has your week, Little Lady?" He asks, using his free hand to snap the mask off. My fist still in his hold is lifted, a soft kiss pressed to my knuckles before he drops my hand. "Are you going to answer my question or just keep staring?" He chuckles out, sliding off his black and red overcoat.

My heart pounds faster as I watch him undress, the puttering slowing when his shirt is tossed to the floor, showing off the old wounds and a couple of new ones. "Um... what was your question?"

"I asked how your week was. Wait a second though," he repeats, climbing out of my bed and leaving the room.

What the hell? What the actual hell? Why is he back? Why is he stabbed again? Because he's a terrorist, duh. Maybe I should have reported him breaking in last week. Though, maybe that would have ended with me dead. Am I going to die this time?

Before my fear can eat at me too much, the intruder is back, the makeshift first aid kit in his grasp along with a bowl. "Alright, now tell me about your week."

"Umm... I didn't... do much," I whisper, feeling like a deer looking at a hunter.

The bowl is settled on my nightstand, half full of water with a washcloth soaking in it. He climbs back into my bed, kneeling next to me as he opens the kit. "You had to have done some things. I've been gone for a full eight days. What did you do that whole time, little lady? Lay in bed? I hope not. Did I scare you that much? Don't be scared of me," he rambles, carefully laying out my supplies. "What did you do while I was away?"

"Worked," I whisper, carefully shifting into a sitting position in my bed. What the hell? What. The. Hell. My mind spirals because of the situation. I'm still wrapped up in my bedding, pressing gauze against a terrorist's wounds as he pressures me about my week. What kind of messed up situation am I stuck in?

"Is that all? Just work?" He asks, his fingertips gently dancing over my cheeks, occasionally sliding a piece of my hair out of the way. "You haven't done anything else?"

"Chores," I shortly answer, laying the blood-soaked bandages on the kit lid, not wanting to stain my sheets.

This guy can't seriously be a terrorist, can he? His voice is so soft. His touch is so gentle. He's so... giddy? I'm big into true crime, but I've never read anything about a murderer seeming so happy with life. Is it a cover personality, perhaps? Is he trying to get me to lower my guard to take what he wants from me? To kill me? If that's the case why didn't he take what he wanted last time he was here? Why wouldn't he have killed me last time he was here? I'm so confused.

"Anything else?" He asks, twirling a strand of my hair around his finger. "Anything fun? Anything for yourself? Did you hang out with any friends? Go to dinner? Do a hobby? Anything besides day-to-day things?"

"No."

He falls quiet, focusing on playing with the strands of my hair. At least he does until I pull away to grab the washcloth. When I fall back into place, patting at the mess of his chest, the intruder's fingertips are back dancing across my cheeks. "Little Lady?" I glance at him, opening my mouth to call back until I realize I don't remember his name. He softly chuckles, tilting down to tap his nose against mine, making me jerk away from him. "My name is Obito. Remember? It's alright if you don't. I know you're probably a bit traumatized from the start of our friendship."

"We're not friends," I mutter, pulling away to ring out the rag and let it soak as I focus on redressing his old wounds.

"Why aren't we friends?"

"You broke into my house... again," I start, carefully unwrapping his old bandages. "Friends don't break into each other's houses. Friends aren't afraid of each other. Friends don't just 'hang out' when one of them needs something."

Obito falls quiet, soft huffs coming from him as I clean and reapply bandages and ointment to his old wounds. As my focus shifts to his new wounds, he starts talking again. "Why are you scared of me?" I slowly blink as I stare at the man in front of me. He can't be this dumb, can he? What kind of terrorist is this stupid? "I haven't caused you any harm. I even brought you some money to replace the medical supplies and the food you used for me. Why are you afraid?"

"You're a murder," I answer quietly, dropping my eyes back to his wounds. "One that keeps breaking into my house when you feel like it. Normal people would be fearful of an akatsuki member, especially one that seems to have a special interest in them."

Again, Obito falls quiet, this time until he's fully patched up. Once I'm done working, I let my hands fall to my lap, my eyes locked on them. "Little Lady?" He calls softly, his head dipping down, positioned under mine. His nose is pressed gently against mine, eyes locked on me as he looks up at me.

I focus on his nose. I might not know the deal with his eyes, but I'm smart enough not to look into them. The dumbest person is smart enough not to look into the unnatural eyes of any person, much less an akatsuki member.

"As long as you don't plan to attack me, I won't attack you, alright? You don't seem to be an obstacle to my plans of peace, which means I have no reason to hurt you. After all," He starts, slowly pulling away, his voice a lot more pippy this time. "A good nurse is hard to come by. Stop filling your pretty mind with worry."

Obito climbs off the mattress, leaving me alone in the bed. My eyes stay locked on my blankets, listening to the sound of him moving around. The sound pulls Daku awake, him yawning, and the sound of his bell being added to the room. "Hello Kitty, it's nice to see you again," the intruder coos, walking across the room to pay attention to my cat. "Come on, cat. Let's go get your mom and me some food. Yes, yes, yes. Cookies and milk will be a nice snack for us."

Once he's out of the room, I flop back onto the bed, stretching out under the blankets. A long shaky sigh spills from me as I snap my eyes closed, enjoying the fake peace I have got for a few moments. What the hell is the deal with this guy? Why can't he just leave me alone? Why is he so obsessed with my cat?

Soon, my cat races into the room, the black ball of fur jumping onto the bed before prancing around my blankets. "Hey Daku," I coo, patting the spot next to me. He curls up for a moment, eyes wide as he watches my hand move before he pounces towards me. "Silly kitty," I giggle, turning on my side to wrap my pet into my arms.

I cuddle up with Daku, pressing him to my chest as I curl us into a ball. What am I going to do? Tell the Kazekage? Will he be able to handle it? To protect me? Is this situation worth bothering my Lord about? Would I get in trouble for helping a terrorist? I shouldn't get in trouble, my life is in danger, anyone would have helped with death was hanging over their head. My Lord would understand that, right? Maybe, maybe not. I just don't know.

"Little Lady?" Obito calls, pulling me out of my thoughts and shooting fresh fear up my spine again. I slowly open my eyes, being met with a smiling terrorist balancing a plate of cookies and two cups of milk. "As we enjoy our treat, I think we should discuss a few things."

"What might those things be?" I ask, snapping my eyes closed and holding Daku closer to me.

"I think I should apologize for constantly breaking in. We should discuss me sending messages before I appear. Perhaps we should discuss going to lunch together soon."

"Why would we do that?"

"You said friends hang out to just hang out and you're scared of me. I am not being a good friend. I want to be a good friend to you and I want you to not be scared. The more you get to know me the less scared you will be. Besides, I want to get to know you better too."

I don't believe that is true but I'm not exactly in the position to tell him no, am I? "Alright," I whisper, shifting to sit up again, Daku a bit pissy but settling into my lap once I'm done moving.

"Wonderful!" Obito cheers, setting the cookies on the bed and handing me one of the glasses of milk before carefully climbing back into the bed.

————————————

The envelope taped to my door is the first thing to snag my attention as I approach my house. The second thing to catch my attention is the black woven basket on my welcome mat. My fear is sparked as I approach my door, some of it subsiding as I kneel to look at the basket.

A black bow with red clouds similar to Obito's robe is tied at the top of the basket, keeping the clear plastic - holding everything together - in place. In the basket are quite a few different things; candies, cookies, a bag of catnip, a few mouse toys for Daku, bath bubbles and salts, what I think is perfume, a plushy raven, and a slim black box.

Maybe he's a stalker. Maybe that's why I can't seem to shake the akatsuki member off of me. That's great. I have a terrorist stalking me and demanding medical attention and friendship. However, there are a lot worse things he could be demanding from me. Maybe I should talk to the Kazekage. Maybe I should just pack Daku and me up, and make a run for it. I don't think that's going to work very well though.

I pick the basket up as I stand, my focus shifting to the envelope on my door. The envelope is black like the basket, but it's a cloudy black with deep red writing on the front. I sigh as I glance over the neat letters. L - I - T - T - L - E, L - A - D - Y.

I tug it off the door, turning it over to be met with more fanciness. A matching red wax seal is stamped into the folds of the paper, and a feather design is stamped into the wax. I roll my eyes, deciding to set the basket down to open the letter from my stalker. The paper is as high-class as the envelope, thick black stationary paper, bordered with red designs of more feathers. The same thick red ink coats the pages of the letter.

Little Lady (and Daku),

I want to thank you again for the medical attention you have given me. I am very grateful for it and for you inviting me into your home. Well, you didn't invite me in but I am grateful you didn't stab me with your knitting needles. It wouldn't have done much but it would have hurt.

Again, I want to apologize for making you fearful of me. I want to remind you that I don't plan to cause you - or Daku - any harm. Please keep reminding yourself of that as well.

Now that my formality is done I want to explain my gifts to you. The cookies and candies are obvious. I wanted to replace the cookies I ate the other day and I noticed you didn't have many snacks so I got you a few to hold you over until my next visit.

I also got some presents for Daku. Catnip and mouse toys that you can put the catnip into. I figured the toys could help you control how much nip he's exposed to. I have been thinking, and I'm not sure you have a secure place to hide the kitty drugs. Next time I am over I'll bring you a jar to hide it in.

I'm excited about our lunch together next week so I got you some smell nice things. I wasn't sure if you preferred bubble baths or salt baths so I got both. When you write me back, let me know which one you prefer, please.

The spray bottle of liquid is ~not~ perfume. Do not use it on yourself. It's chloroform, it will knock you and anyone else out. Do ~not~ inhale it or leave it somewhere that Daku can knock it over. You do not have the means to protect yourself so keep the bottle on you, especially with me constantly appearing at your home.

As for the box, it's a small pocket knife. Keep it on your person at all times as well. When you sleep keep it under your pillow. Again, you cant protect yourself so this shall help until I come up with a better plan. Hopefully, it'll help you feel less fearful for me as well, Little Lady.

Lastly, the crow is gifted just because it's cute and I hope it reminds you of me. Remember to do something fun for yourself. I cannot wait to receive your response letter and to see you for our lunch date. It'll be nice to see you in the light of the day.

Until Next Time,

Obito

I let out another sigh, glancing around the street. At least my stalker has a sense of protection... I guess. Plus, I guess I know he doesn't mean any harm now. Or maybe he gets joy out of giving his pray the means to attempt to protect themselves. What a mess I'm stuck in.

———————————————————————

#naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden oneshot #naruto shippuden x reader #obito oneshot #obito uchiha x reader #obito x reader #obito uchiha #obito uchiha oneshot

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abiiors · 10 months

Text

under the mistletoe 🎄// ross macdonald x reader (pt 2 of 2)

twelve days of christmas - day 3

a/n: best friends to lovers? no. it's idiots to lovers. this is also part 2 of secret santa cw: kissing, alcohol, very tame and cheesy. there might be typos... wc: 3k

a cheer cuts through the chatter in the room and ross finds himself standing under a mistletoe, liv first in his arms, then standing on her toes and then they’re kissing—sweet, long kisses that make him smile despite the butterflies in his stomach.

butterflies that should have been a result of the kiss. instead, it feels more like a swarm of bees buzzing in his chest from anticipation.

ross doesn’t expect to be this nervous. more than that, he doesn’t expect to pull away from the kiss before she does. even when liv looks at him with slight concern.

he certainly doesn’t expect himself to be so hung up on secret santa. he has bought plenty of gifts for people he cares about before! good ones too; sure, he’s no pro at gift giving but he’s not entirely hopeless. but this time he simply cannot afford to mess up. not when it took him two turns to get the name he really wanted.

everyone looks festive in some shade of red or green on white—and one silver but charli really pulls it off. liv has a beautiful green velvet dress on, her curly hair piled on top of her head and gold hoops dangling from her ears. liv looks stunning!

it’s her that really takes his breath away—the girl who’s been his best friend for over a decade now. the girl who now stares at him with a tight smile on her face, cheering almost on autopilot with the rest of his friends. she’s in a classic red slip dress and matching red lipstick that contrasts her skin so perfectly that ross almost feels guilty for staring at her longer than necessary. he’s right next to his girlfriend for fucks sake. he needs to focus!

the excitement in the room is off the charts! everyone’s buzzing to get to the main event—the secret santa gifts—and he feels a tiny pit of nervousness at the centre of all his enthusiasm. what if she doesn’t like his gift? what if it’s something she already has or something that’s too personal… too intimate.

liv breaks his little spiral.

“you alright?” she slides onto his lap with an easy smile and pecks him softly.

“yeah, just excited about the gifts! i wonder who got my name.” even with her on his thigh ross can’t stop his knee from bouncing up and down. the weird mixture of anticipation and butterflies is something he’s rarely felt before—not since… well not since her last birthday when he’d gotten her two tickets to the play she’d been dying to go to.

(if he’s being honest it was not since she’d asked him if he’d like to go with her.)

“me too!” liv beams and it’s as if that’s matty’s cue to announce that they can all finally, finally move to the living room.

the living room is adorned with twinkling lights and tinsel, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere. a decently sized pile of gifts sits under the pretty tree—the current object of everyone’s interest. his nervousness aside, ross feels as giddy as the others do, still like a child on christmas morning about to get the long anticipated pokemon card collection.

matty gets to the pile and starts calling out names one after the other.

ross is barely even listening—his mind races with a million different possibilities. what if it’s a shit gift? what if she doesn’t like it or has something similar or doesn’t get the significance of it?

what if she thinks he put no thought into it?

he’s barely even listening when polly coos over the “cutest jumper ever!” or when george cackles over his gag gift or when matty almost goes misty eyed over the vintage book.

he only snaps out of it when matty calls out her name and envelopes her in a hug.

“it’s perfect,” he sniffles and ross burns with envy.

not envious of matty. never envious of matty but… a tiny, irrational part of him wishes she were his secret santa instead. that she spent days thinking about him, obsessing over finding the perfect gift just like he had.

that maybe she spent her nights in bed, wondering a thousand times over if her gift would make him smile (it would, ross thinks. she could get him a £10 bottle of wine and he would still cherish it dearly.)

“ross!” matty calls out and he startles a little.

matty looks at him with a slightly puzzled expression and wiggles a neatly wrapped gift in front of him. it’s square and thin with a small note attached to it.

he recognises it instantly—a handwriting he’s only recently come to know as liv’s.

liv. his girlfriend. his secret santa.

and he’s an awful, awful boyfriend for the feeling of disappointment that rises in him.

his fingers move deftly, tearing apart the wrapping paper until the gift inside becomes visible. the first thing he registers is the word “untitled” printed front and centre in big bold letters. and below it: “divine connection: the last unreleased album”. it dawns on him slowly—the band, their band. the last album from their band. just his and hers. and on autopilot, his gaze snaps up to her.

“ross?”

for the second time that evening liv’s voice cuts through his spiral and he turns around to see her standing at the door to the balcony with a half-drunk champagne flute in her hands. she’s beautiful, he thinks. she’s always been stunning but his heart doesn’t skip a beat when he looks at her.

“can we talk?” she walks in and stands next to him, shoulders brushing with his. it’s a cold night. it’s silly being outside but he’s in a weird mood. he even kinda prefers it here.

“yeah of course,” he clears his throat and tries to appear casual.

“did you like your gift?”

“i did. it was… it was perfect.” at least that much is true. at least that much he can say with 100% certainty. “thank you. really, i mean it.”

“i know you do.”

for a minute she doesn’t say anything but her eyes roam over his face—a scruitinising sort of a look that makes him want to shy away. she’s never been particularly intense but in the few weeks he’s known liv, she’s had a way of guessing his little tells. it takes everything in him to not look away.

still, he closes his eyes for a minute.

the scene is still so fresh in his mind—ross opening the gift and looking up. ross staring at her and not liv. ross murmuring “thank you. it’s perfect.” and smiling at her before he even remembered that the gift was supposed to be from liv.

ross only looks at her, his best friend. and she can’t seem to meet his gaze.

liv clears her throat and brings him back to the present. she takes another swig of her champagne and offers him the glass. ross studies her lipstick smudge on the rim and accepts the drink gratefully.

“you’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

a second sooner and he would have choked on the drink or done a spit-take like a fucking idiot but the question leaves him so speechless that he almost drops the glass.

“who?”

“don’t play dumb now.” her tone’s a bit sharp but her words aren’t unkind and the thought of being scolded like that makes him blush slightly and straighten up.

he’s about to speak when she continues.

“i see how you look at her—how you looked at her when you opened the gift i gave you. you knew it wasn’t from me didn’t you?”

wordlessly, he nods his head.

“you knew i didn’t think of it. you were right though. i didn’t. i went to her because she’s you best friend.”

“and she told you about the band?”

liv clicks her tongue. “she handed me the record. turns out she had you for secret santa before we picked the names again.”

“oh…”

there’s another beat of loaded silence in which he struggles to maintain eye contact with her and not feel like an utterly shit boyfriend.

“liv i—”

“i know,” she smiles briefly. “but you can’t string me along, babe. look i like you a lot. i really do and i know… i know you told me you were trying to move on from someone but i assumed that was a past relationship. i didn’t realise you were talking about…your best friend.”

“i’m sorry,” he shakes his head. “i really am. i know that was shitty of me.”

“it was a little.”

none of them speak for a few minutes. ross looks at her champagne again, wishing he’d had a drink with him for this conversation. or maybe not—maybe a clearer head is what he needs. he is getting dumped, after all.

and yet… there’s no sadness. just a faint sense of disappointment.

“so this is it i guess?”

in one gulp liv finishes the rest of her champagne and nods. “yeah. this is it. for what it’s worth ross… i have no hard feelings.”

this time when she smiles at him, it’s open and sincere. much to his relief, it’s friendly. liv stands on her toes and presses a kiss to his cheek. it’s chaste and quick—a goodbye, one that he returns by hugging her tightly.

liv pauses at the threshold just as she’s leaving.

“why don’t you tell her?”

ross shakes his head in disappointment and feels the familiar ache settle bone deep. the night suddenly seems so much colder than before—no longer the cosy kind that makes you want to snuggle up with a loved one. this feels sharp and biting.

“can’t,” he shrugs, “i don’t want to ruin years’ worth of friendship.”

he expects liv to understand that. it’s a perfectly normal sentiment—to love someone enough that you’d rather have some of them than none of them. but she just shakes her head at him.

“wow…” liv sighs, “for a man so smart… you really are fucking dumb.”

and then she leaves him on the balcony, shivering and confused.

by the time he gets inside, there’s a lull in the party. everyone’s either drunk or loved up or both. well, maybe not everyone.

ross finds her huddled in front of the fireplace, absently staring at her wrist. at the pearl bracelet he got for her.

a near-perfect match to her beloved pearl necklace from her grandmother.

the fire casts a warm, golden glow on her—on her hair and the curve of her shoulder, the hollow of her throat, and down her chest. he stands transfixed at the threshold, waiting for something to happen.

maybe matty (passed out on the sofa) will wake up if he moves or polly might need something from him or george and charli might see them and he loves his friends but they have barely any concept of personal space after all these years. maybe he could just do it tomorrow when he’s not half-drunk, half-sober, and fully freaking out.

“ross?”

too late to hide now.

“why are you stood there? come on! it’s so cold!” she opens up her blanket cocoon—an invitation for him to join.

ross, startled by her voice, stumbles into the room. his cheeks flush with embarrassment and he clears his throat, trying to mask the awkwardness that has suddenly enveloped him.

fuck! she’s pretty. and yes he thinks that every single time he looks at her but it’s moments like these that really hit him like a gut punch.

liv’s words echo in his mind over and over again. for a man so smart… you really are fucking dumb. was she trying to say what he thinks she was? or is he just delusional and projecting his own feelings onto her.

her body is soft and warm when ross settles next to her, pulling her into his side and tucking her head under his chin.

“you were deep in thought.” ross teases a bit, not ready to broach anything serious just yet. what he really wants to ask is about the record—how she’d somehow known his perfect gift before he figured it out himself.

“just thinking about how good i am at gift giving,” she teases back. “matty was ecstatic.”

she's right but he can’t help but find a different meaning in her words.

“that you are,” ross murmurs in her hair, resisting the urge to press a little kiss there. it’s too much for him—this intimacy. something like that might just tip him over the edge.

for a while she doesn’t say anything and ross wonders if she’s fallen asleep. it’s quite late and they’re quite cosy, it won’t be the first time she's fallen asleep on him. maybe, if she is asleep, he might even press that kiss onto her head after all.

“liv’s not here?” her voice breaks his train of thought. it’s not teasing anymore—she sounds neutral and controlled and… and like she’s trying not to pry.

“we broke up.”

“what?!”

she almost shrieks and matty stirs slightly but goes back to sleeping again. ross feels guilty for just dumping it on her without any context.

“i’m so sorry,” she says before he has a chance to speak. “fuck, at a christmas party too! that sucks, love. are you alright?”

“it wasn’t like that. it was…” this is it, he thinks. his one chance to get it right. “i’m perfectly fine. i’m… i’m better than fine. it’s… well she–you… fuck okay!”

he cheeks grow warm. it’s worse now that she’s properly looking at his now, her face a mixture of concern and curiosity; that she’s now an attentive audience to his pathetic flustered words.

“let me…” he takes a big deep breath and squares his shoulders. “okay. let me get this right. for the next, i don’t know, two minutes, you aren’t allowed to speak, okay? okay. so! liv and i talked.” the skepticism on her face grows and ross tries not to let it deter him. “the gift, the record—”

“was it not good?”

“oi! no speaking, remember? two minutes.” ross scolds lightly and almost laughs at her sheepish face. “as i was saying, the record. it wasn’t her idea, was it? i asked her how she knew and she told me you gave it to her. for me! why didn’t you… why didn’t you give it to me yourself?”

for all her talking a moment ago, now she seems speechless. so much so that she can barely meet his eyes.

“it was a lovely gift, darling. maybe even one of the best and… i just want to know why, that’s all.”

her cheeks flush a subtle shade of pink, and she fidgets with the edge of the blanket. “i guess i wanted you to have something meaningful without making things awkward. i’d already bought the gift and i didn't want to complicate our friendship with something that felt so… personal, especially with liv being in the picture. and…fuck! if that’s what made you break up, i’m so sorry, i—"

“it didn’t,” he cuts her off firmly. ross can’t help but notice the small details of her face then—the tiny smudges of mascara from no doubt when she sleepily rubbed her eyes, the glitter on her eyelids reflecting the firelight. her big, beautiful eyes and dilated pupils.

her slightly smudged lipstick…

fuck, it’s the tiny lipstick smudge on the corner of her lips that makes him lose his ability to think straight.

“we broke up because… well there’s someone else,” he speaks in a low volume. subconsciously, she leans forward.

“someone else?”

the room falls into a heavy silence, broken only by the crackling fire. she waits, her eyes searching his face for any sign that he's joking or playing some elaborate prank. but the sincerity in his expression leaves no room for doubt.

“you’re my best friend,” he says, “and fuck, do i resent that! how am i… darling, how am i meant to pretend you’re just my friend when you’re the fucking focal point of my world?”

her breath catches so audibly that it’s almost a gasp. he waits for her to say something. anything. instead she leans in an presses her lips to his.

it’s so unsure at first, almost like she freezes and her brain can’t figure out where to go next. the kiss lingers, soft and tentative—both testing the waters of something uncharted. ross's mind races, trying to process the warmth of her lips against his, the subtle taste of her lipstick.

she pulls away before he’s even had the chance to kiss her back and hides her face in his chest.

“oh god, that was too soon, wasn’t it! that was–you just broke up and i—”

“love, don't hide your face, don't…” his hands gently cup her flushed face, making her look up at him once again even when she can barely meet his eyes and in that moment he realises he’s never seen someone so beautiful.

so this time when ross crashes his lips against hers, he makes sure to pull her closer. to hold onto her tightly. his arms are around her, her hands in his hair and oh she fits so perfectly in the crevices of his body. like a perfect puzzle piece.

by the time they finally pull apart, slightly breathless and grinning uncontrollably, ross hears her giggle.

“wow, that was my first kiss under a mistletoe…”

“we aren’t—”

“i know, but we’re next to one so it’s almost the same.”

he looks to where she’s pointing, to the little bunch tied above the fireplace.

“we could do better, darling.”

“yeah?”

“mm-hmm,” he murmurs, stealing another quick kiss from her. “let me take you home.”

and she agrees in a heartbeat.

lemme know what you think <33

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#christmas75 #12 days of christmas #the 1975 #ross macdonald #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x you #ross x reader #ross x you #ross macdonald angst #the 1975 angst #minor angst #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #angst to fluff???#in all honesty i kinda hate this because writer's block is a bitch but i can complain here because no one is going to see these tags #yeah. genuinely not very happy with this but also not in the position to rewrite it so we move

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