#i wish my cat could understand that i adore him

[theautisticslut]

i got the viral criss-cross swivel chair and since my feet are no longer swinging down, my cat has decided that i must HATE him and he keeps biting my computer workstation now with a vengeance

[sweeterlovers]

DOG SITTER / OSCAR PIASTRI

oscar piastri x female reader / SMAU FIC

FACE CLAIM / none!!!

WARNINGS / it’s not specified where reader lives but it’s implied that oscar had to take a plan to baby sit the dog 😭

based off this request !!!

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INSTAGRAM

liked by yourbsf, oscarpiastri, and 2,352 others

yourusername can anyone babysit my dog for the weekend!!??? my usual dog sitter is sick!!! i need help ASAP!!!!

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user5 i wish i could!!!!

user77 aww your dog is adorable! what’s his name?

yourusername his name is honeycomb!!!

user2 i love that!!!!!!

yourbsf you went to instagram to get a dog sitter?

yourusername well yes!

user721 i love golden retrievers!!!! 🐶🐶

oscarpiastri Hey! if your still looking for a dog sitter I can do it!!!! Just let me know!

yourusername Yesss I am!!!!! thank you so much!!!!!

oscarpiastri Of course

user43 WHY IS OSCAR HERE?????

user31 he saw that everyone has dogs on the grid so this is his plan

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TWITTER

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oscarpiastri posted on his story!

liked by landonorris, yourusername, and 12,622 others

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yourusername awww i miss my boy :(((((((

oscarpiastri well your going to see him soon!

yourusername yeah yeah yeah…… i’m so grateful that you stepped in, what can i do to repay you?

oscarpiastri well maybe i can take you out on a date when you come back?

yourusername i would actually love that 😊

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INSTAGRAM

liked by landonorris, yourusername, and 992,625 others

oscarpiastri I ended up really liking the dog 🐶 👍

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user11 oscar what

landonorris and the girl?

oscarpiastri maybe

user6 the dog is adorable

user213 i always thought of oscar as a cat person

user44 he does give off cat dad energy!!!

user7 they should date!!

user30 they have such a cute story!!!

user2 👌👌👌❤️❤️❤️

user364 she gives off golden retriever energy!!!

user8 omg she does!!!!!

yourusername and what about me?

oscarpiastri you run a close second, honeycomb really stole my heart

yourusername i understand that

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INSTAGRAM

liked by yourbsf, oscarpiastri, and 327,972 others

yourusername me, honeycomb, and my “dog sitter”

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oscarpiastri sorry for lying….. but it came to a good ending 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️…. right?

yourusername i forgive you 🤍

oscarpiastri and honeycomb?

yourusername you won her over

user221 we need to see honeycomb in the paddock!

user4 🫶🏻🫶🏻

yourbsf cuties

yourusername i love youuuuuuuu

user89 the sunset is so beautiful

alexandrasaintmleux we need to have a play date with honeycomb and leo!!!

yourusername omg yes!!!! it’s a need

user42 leo and honeycomb is a duo we need!

francisca.cgomes we need a paddock meet up!!!

yourusername yesss!!!! leo, simba, and honeycomb!!!!!

alexandrasaintmleux can’t wait!!!!! ❤️❤️

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TEAM RADIO / SWEETERLOVERS - guys i love dogs :))

[onyourowndaisymae]

"is... is that my sweater?"

satan notes the lethargic way you look up from your book, watching heavy eyelids lead a slow blink. whatever dusty tome lies in your hands has clearly lured you halfway to dreamland-- and from the looks of it, your cozy attire and the crackle of the nearby fireplace didn't seem to help much, either.

"huh?"

"are you wearing my sweater?" he asks, softer this time.

you let your head fall down to your own chest. you stare at the familiar green sweater on your body for a few moments before lifting your head.

"huh?" you repeat, too tired to comprehend the question for a long moment. then, "... oh. yeah."

a warm chuckle rumbles in his chest as he comes closer. satan had been looking for his sweater all day-- left only in a black undershirt, because it was more about the principle of finding it than needing it-- but he had been wholly unaware he'd left it in your room earlier that day. he couldn't bring himself to regret it, though. you look quite cozy cuddled up on the library sofa like that, swaddled in a blanket and his scent, lost in some book like a vision from an old painting. how he wishes he'd been a little quieter entering the library-- maybe he could have snapped a photo of you like this for himself.

as your lover, satan knows he should probably escort you to bed for a proper rest. but a selfish part of him wants to bask in this scene longer, to let the storm that rages in him find solace at this little slice of heaven. it's odd for a demon to crave peace like this. you've domesticated him in that way-- like a feral cat off the street finding comfort in a stranger's apartment, you've lulled him into a sense of contentness he didn't think he'd find in this lifetime.

oh, what a wonder you are.

"do you mind a little company?"

you nod, sleepily, yawning through what was intended to be a verbal response, but satan's at your side before you make yourself try again. his hand finds your shoulder and coaxes you to sit up. with a little adjusting, he slides into the space behind you and urges you to lean back into his chest. his legs stay on either side of you-- it's warm, comforting, doing nothing to help you stay awake. but it doesn't seem like satan minds your drowsiness.

his eyes fall to the nearly discarded book in your hands. emerald eyes scan over the words. they're familiar, causing a curious itch in his brain that lingers for a few seconds before his epiphany.

"is this... that book i read last week?"

"mhmm. i wanted--" another yawn, "-- to understand what you were talking about, but... i got sleepy."

he understands now. his sweater on your warm body, the library couch, the low fire nearby-- you're indulging in a small taste of his world.

what did he do to deserve someone as wonderful as you?

"i can read it to you, if you'd like," he murmurs, low and quiet. if you wanted the full experience, he'd give it to you-- complete with a nap in his arms. it's selfish, though. he really just wants an excuse to admire you up close, to lose himself in thought about how much he truly, deeply adores you. sometimes the sensation is so overwhelming that it shows on his face in flushed cheeks and soft eyes-- and that is a little too embarrassing to be caught with by anyone, but especially by you.

when you snuggle into his chest, he begins to read from the top of the page where you left off. it doesn't take long for your breathing to even out, your body to grow still and heavy in his grasp. he slides the bookmark between old pages where you originally left off. satan predicts you'll forget most everything he read to you by the time you wake up.

his mind wanders to the soundtrack of your peaceful breathing. he's grateful for lazy days like this. being able to bask in your presence is a gift. to know that you yourself were creating a similar experience by hiding away in one of his favorite reading spots, well... he's lucky you're asleep, as the flush on his cheeks only grows hotter at the thought.

maybe he'll let you borrow his things more often.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Cave boy Danny starts talking about one of the debates Tucker and Sam without mentioning their names when asked who the two are,Danny panics again and says that Sam is Selina since that's not that big of a jump when he starts saying her name

"One of my best friends would agree with you." Brucie suddenly speaks up one night at Dinner when Damian rants about his school not offering enough Vegetarian options. "She is an ultra-recyclo-vegetarian."

Bruce blinks having never heard the term before. A quick glance around the table tells him that neither have the others. Must be slang from his universe then. "What does that mean?"

"She doesn't eat anything with a face," Brucie explains. The curve of his lips has the tiniest amount of bestowed fondness that could only come from infatuation. Oh, Brucie is sweet on the girl. Bruce feels mildly alarmed as all his kids and Alfred sits up in interest when spotting it.

Unaware of what he just unwillingly gave away Brucie continues "Not to be confused with being a vegan because she will eat bread and cheese, but not often. She gets real mad when people mislabel her."

Dick grins, leaning over his forgotten dinner to pin Brucie under an eager stare. "I bet. Mislabeling is the worst."

"It is!" Brucie agrees, seemingly satisfied that someone else feels the same. "Especially when getting her to like you is like trying to get a cat's approval. But it's totes worth it when you do. No one has your back better than her."

A....cat's loyalty? Oh no. Surely it couldn't be-?

"What's your best friend's name?" Steph speaks up asking what's on everyone's mind. They all lean in a little closer as Brucie mindlessly gathers some rice on his fork.

"Her name is Sa-" Brucie takes a bite of his rice before swallowing. It takes everything in him not to quote Alfred and scold him for speaking with his mouth full. How Brucie grew up with such manners, Bruce would never know. "Selina! Her name is Selina."

Oh.

It seemed even in another world Bruce's heart would fall into Selina Kyle's hands.

His kids all but burst into cheers. Even Jason, and that was very hard to accomplish in the last few years.

"I knew it! I knew it!"

"Of course, it's Selina! Who else could it have been?"

"I suppose Kyle is not too horrid a partner for Father."

Duke and Cass high-five while Alfred seems to be glowing in parental pride as the other kids chat about his on-and-off girlfriend again. If a civilian version of himself still fell for her, Bruce could convince his Selina to quit the crime life and be his permanently.

Brucie stares a comprehensive eye around the table, so Bruce takes pity on him.

"I have a Selina as well. My kids....enjoy her company." He says, watching blue eyes swing at him as tiny black bangs fall slightly over them. It's adorable, and he finally understands why he had so many admirers. He bets civilian Brucie breaks just as many, if not more, hearts than he did at that age. "How long have you known Selina for?"

"Um...since she moved to my school when we were ten, so about four years, give or take?" Brucie shrugs, a slight blush overtaking his face. "She's great."

Oh, Bruce bet she is.

"Wait." Tim suddenly speaks up, eyes narrow in mistrust. Bruce had noticed before that the second youngest was suspicious of their dimensional visitor. He had been meaning to pull him aside to talk about it. "You said one of your best friends. Who is the other?"

"...Ethan. My other best friend is Ethan," Brucie says after a moment. He must mean Ethan Bennett. Bruce thinks wistfully of the old days when he would play basketball with his dear friend before he was lost in Clayface.

But why did Brucie pause on Ethan's name like that? It almost seemed like he was very carefully selecting that name or was trying to control his facial reaction to it.

A familiar blush bloomed over Brucie's checks and- oh. The boy had spoken about wishing he was from a world where bisexuality was more common, didn't he?

It would make sense. It's not like Ethan hadn't crossed his mind once or twice when Bruce was a teenager, either.

Tim's eyes narrow further. "I don't believe you."

"And I believe you can't stand the sight of your reflection because you're convinced no one will ever want it either." Brucie cheerfully chirps back before closing his eyes and sighing as if tired. He slumps in his chair, leaning his head against the headrest. "Sorry, that was mean. I'm trying to be less mean."

Bruce frowns at him, aware of Tim's eyes going glossy to his right but his son doesn't seem to want to step away. All conversation stops as they glare daggers at Brucie. Dick especially seems the most upset. "That was uncool Brucie"

"Yeah, sorry force of habit. My older sister and I-"

"Your what?" Bruce cuts him off, wondering if he heard right.

"My older sister?"

"You have a sister?"

"Yeah, don't you?"

"No," Bruce whispers. "No, I don't. I'm an only child."

"Oh. I'm the second youngest. I have an older sister, an older brother, and a younger sister." Brucie turns over to Tim to offer a sincere apology that the other gracious takes, but Bruce can't hear him over the sound of blood rushing between his ears.

"Mother and Father had more children?"

"Kind of." Brucie's face twists slightly in consideration. "Tommy and Harley are adopted. They are technically cousins since they were made by my uncle Vlad. Kate.....my older sister Kate, is my aunt Alicia's bio-kid but she was raised by my parents since she was one since Aunt Alicia wasn't...in the best mental state to care for her. No hard feelings are between them."

"Tommy, as in Tommy Elliot?!" Dick gasps, springing to his feet. "He is your adoptive older brother!?"

Brucie appears startled by his reaction, but he nods all the same. Bruce feels dread sink into his stomach.

"He's evil!" Dick shouts.

"I know." Brucie shrugs, uncaring. "Tommy has some issues, and he had them since he was...fourteen, but he's not dangerous.."

"Did you all miss that he said Harley is his younger sister? Harley as in Harleen Quinzel?" Jason cuts in, twisting to pin Brucie with a hard stare. "That's her real name, isn't it?"

"Well, her real name is Harleen Wayne, but she prefers Harley," Bruice says carefully. "Why? Do you know her?"

"She's evil too!" Dick gasps. "Brucie, you're in terrible danger with those two around!"

"Nah, Kate will stop them." Brucie waves his hand. "Sides Tommy and Harley are always traveling. Neither are home much these days."

Bruce feels a headache growing behind his eyes as Dick desperately tries to explain what happens to Brucie's adoptive siblings in their world. At the same time, his counterpart argues on his sibling's behalf.

(No one knows about the electric candles disappearing from the dinner table as the house descends into madness, trying to make the dimension travel realize his danger. Even fewer are aware of Danny's silent apology to Sam, Tucker, Jazz, Dan, or Dani for butchering their names and somehow still connecting them to someone in this world.)

Master Post Link

[solitary-traveler]

Two Sides of the Same Coin

How are you so unaware of the fact that he despises you because he’s desperate to remain unattached?

Harbinger!Scaramouche x Gn!Reader

Notes: Hi, I caved. So for those asking for a part 2 on certain stories... I'm not sure how to approach a part 2 for the two of them so I did this instead. Hopefully, it satisfies you AHAHAHAHA. Also, I'm not that well-versed in writing smut but hey, I tried-

Warning: harbinger x secretary lol, cursing, NSFW, marking

Scaramouche hates everyone. That’s a fact.

Yet for some reason, he despises you. 

He detests the flicker of luster within your eyes when your lips voice a low hum, triggering your body to sway along to whatever illusive melody is in that tiny brain of yours. He loathes your gratified, cat-like stretches, a testimony that amplifies his obscene appetite. He finds himself revolted by your ability to catapult his judgment far from the naked eye, and inspire his thoughts to vanish into nonexistence.

He hates this so fucking much.

How can one even bear this much animosity towards someone? Even he didn’t know. All he was aware of was how much it aggravated him when he saw you exhibiting interest in anyone that wasn’t him. For Archon’s sake, you were his secretary. Not Childe’s. Not Dottore’s. Not even Her Majesty’s.

His secretary.

Is that so hard to understand? Even a brain like yours could surely discern something so unambiguous. So why were you still preoccupied with others? Especially with those worms who were beneath his rank? How baffling could this concept be that even you can not be conscious of it?

How are you so unaware of the fact that he despises you because he’s desperate to remain unattached?

For someone like Scaramouche, life was nothing but a cruel joke. Providing him the luminescence of his longing only to be dispelled and scattered within the air he didn’t need. It has happened three times already. He doesn’t need it to resurface and transpire again.

He despises you so much he won't let you be his 4th.

And he despises you so much he’ll make sure to drill this lesson in that thick-headed skull of yours.

Wretched whines and hitched gasps reflect around the room, only to bounce against the walls and into Scara’s ear, appeasing his vulgar notions. He's been at it for… how long now? An hour? Or two? He couldn't remember. But why should he keep track? He was far gone, consumed by his irrational side that led his sensibility astray. Everything around him has withered away as his focal point shifted to your mellow and inviting passage. The tight heat provided solace akin to that of a home. His home. Oh, how he wishes he could stay inside of you forever.

“Remember this, you fucking whore”, he hisses as he adjusts your position for his convenience. He relished the way your nails jab at his skin, scraping against his back as he rams into your sweet spot. It drove him insane. Despite the turmoil of sweat and cum, the movement of his hips does not falter. If anything, he proceeds to fasten his pace. "I'm your boss," he growls as his slender fingers curl around your hips, "Your Harbinger."

His lips twitched upwards as he instilled in his memory the way your face contorted in pleasure. "And you...", he pauses, only to deliver a hard thrust that provokes more moans to spill out your pretty mouth,

"You are nothing more than my secretary"

Scara kept jack hammering into you, forcing your face on the pillow to stifle your piercing cries of ecstasy as he subdued you. He's going to make sure you'll be the good little bitch he wants you to be. His figure looms over you like a shadow, an impending threat as he takes you from behind. "You obey me", he snarls as he inclines his head near your ear. He grapples your chin for him to catch a glimpse of your adorable face. It delights him to see your tear streaked features pressed against the pillow, seeking an end to this twisted play as your body argues and wails for more. At a leisurely pace, he slithers down your neck as his hot breath leaves a succession of feather light kisses on your skin. "You do everything I tell you to do"

With a vigorous bite, he slams with ferocity before burying himself in a great depth inside you. A wanton moan pushes past your lips as he starts to grind. It was euphoric, a dopamine boost that is sure to maneuver him over the edge. "I'm not going to let anyone have you,” he chuckles, “not even the gods"

His hold was secure, ensuring that you can’t slip away. Not like you would anyways. Not when you get a thrill out of this as much as he does. He knows how much you savor every inch of his cock as it throbs and shudders against your tight walls

"Just you wait", he grins against the comfort of your complexion as he unhands your hips, "I'll become a god”

“Your god"

He withdraws from the intimate space with a smirk. He stationed his hands on top of your thighs, before spreading them apart. An incentive to impale himself further into you and propel you to see Celestia in all its glory.. 

"And you'll be my first follower. You'll devote yourself to me and me only. You'll worship me like the fucking god I am"

His thoughts ran back to the failures of the past. Past people who fractured glass words known as promises, who didn’t care enough to sustain him in their grasp, who withdrew from his life and left him to fend for himself. Each one of them took a piece of the puppet, and never had the heart to return it back. And now, in your grasp was a substantial segment of him that he never wanted to give away. Yet, somehow, you had managed to snatch it away.

He hates you for it.

And he hates himself even more for wanting you to keep it.

So he has no choice. He won't let you be one of them. He won't allow himself to lose you too. 

"I'll keep you safe. I'll always look after my most devoted follower"

He's going to become a god, that’s for sure. He’s going to attain the towering heights of power possible and bind you to him for all eternity. He veers down, before puncturing your flesh with his teeth. It leaves a deep impression on your smooth skin. A mark of promise. 

"So don't you dare fucking leave me behind. Understand?"

"I won't allow it”

[leviscolwill]

adore

pairing: bsf!jude x fem!reader

summary: you adored your friendship with jude, but sometimes you wished things weren't so complicated between the two of you. [wc: 3,2k]

contents: mostly angst ??? a few cute moments here and there bc i'm fluff girly thru and thru 🤞, they can't communicate to save their life, drunk jude, a random man being annoying, jude being a dumb fuck, language, did i miss anything ?

note: this wip has been rotting in my drafts for a couple of months, i hope you enjoy it because i really enjoyed writing it 🫶

now playing adore by cashmere cat & ariana grande...

"please don't leave me y/n... you don't understand, i need you here."

"jude, i'm literally going to the toilet. i'll be back in 5 minutes, now let me go."

your best friend had always been the clingy type whenever he'd reach his alcohol limit (which was usually only after a couple of drinks). but tonight he was practically glued to your side, not that you minded, you basically spent your whole life attached by the hip. but you had to admit, it hurt a bit to see the person you couldn't have, not in the way you wanted to have him, at least, act all lovey-dovey with you.

the nature of your relationship with jude was complex, to say the least. he was your best friend since you were kids and you wouldn't change that for the world. but the way he looked at you sometimes made you yearn for something more, or whenever his touches on your shoulder or your waist would linger a bit too long to be friendly. maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you, after all, the chances of jude wanting you the way you wanted him were very low, not to mention the fact you led two different lives. but it didn't matter, you could manage to live and long for him with the hope that one day you could be more than a best friend to him. and this thought was all you needed to face him and his sparkly eyes for the rest of the night.

when you got out of the bathroom, your mind was still full of thoughts of your relationship with jude running in your mind. you were so engrossed in your thoughts that you bumped into a man's chest, not really being careful about your surroundings.

"i'm sorry, i wasn't looking." you quickly apologise to him, you were already on your way to your friends before the man grabbed your wrist, quickly letting it go.

"it's okay sweetheart, can i get your name as an apology ?" you cringed at his poor attempt at flirting with you, but you weren't feeling confrontational tonight.

"i'm-"

"y/n !" jude's voice made your head turn in surprise.

"you were gone for so long i almost forgot what your beautiful face looked like." he said smashing his face on your shoulder.

"is that your boyfriend?"

"ummm, no he's my-"

"depends who's asking." jude interrupted you, side-eyeing the nameless man.

"jude. i can speak for myself." the look he gave you broke your heart a bit, his lips pouting in sadness.

"if he is not your boyfriend, i'd gladly take your number, might even take you back to my hotel room..." it was obvious to everyone around that the situation was uncomfortable for you, that familiar feeling of disgust you always got when a man was being too friendly creeping on you.

"who do you think you are?" your best friend stared at the man with a frown on his face.

"jude, let's not..." the tension between the two men was evident as people stopped to stare at whatever was happening.

"relax mate, i just wanna talk to your friend nothing more." the stranger grabbed your wrist, still looking at jude, testing him, testing how far he would go to stop this.

"let me go." you didn't have to try getting away from him because jude did it for you.

the nameless guy suddenly let you go, and seeing him hold his jaw while screaming profanities at your best friend was all you needed to understand what just happened. jude punched him, but the alcohol in his veins prevented him from dodging the punch that came straight for his eyebrow.

immediately you took jude's arm before he found another idea to mess up your night some more, and walked out of the packed club for some air. you ordered a uber for the two of you and texted your friends that you were getting home early.

even fresh air couldn't rid you of the anger that coursed through your body. of course, you were mad at the man who couldn't keep his hands to himself. but another part of you couldn't help but be pissed at jude and his impulsive behaviour. but when you looked at him and saw blood trickle down from his eyebrow, everything was suddenly forgotten and you could only worry.

"fuck you're bleeding, why didn't you tell me? fuck, fuck, fuck." you searched through your bag for a tissue, mentally cursing yourself for how messy it was, and handed one to jude.

"just didn't wanna bother you..." he mumbled, holding it to his wound.

you both waited for the uber in complete silence, you knew you needed to have a conversation with jude about what just happened but you'd do it tomorrow, when he was sober and when your judgement wouldn't be clouded by anger.

thankfully, your uber didn't take too long to arrive, you helped jude put his seatbelt on after watching him struggle with it for a good minute. the atmosphere was tense and it seemed the driver felt it so he didn't try to make conversation with any of you.

you were halfway to your destination when you felt jude's fingers brush against yours lightly. you took a glance at where your hand lay, on the middle seat, jude's hand was right next to yours and when you looked at him he was suddenly entranced by his shoes, busy pretending it never happened.

you were sick of him acting like a child, so you held his hand, since he obviously wouldn't do it himself. the rest of the drive was silent but the atmosphere was peaceful, a nice change from the club.

you let go of jude's hand once you arrived at the villa you rented with your group of friends. you immediately took jude to the bathroom to clean his cut, he looked like a child while you were gathering the material you needed, mumbling words to himself with a frown on his face.

"is it gonna hurt?"

"probably not." these were the first words you exchanged since the club, the uneasy atmosphere of the room wasn't one you were used to whenever you were with jude. he was the one person who could understand you the best in the world, but it just wasn't the case tonight.

"can you hold my hand?" it was like he turned four again. but you couldn't deny anything from him, especially not when his eyes were glassy from all the drinks he had, so you took jude's hand in yours.

you started cleaning the cut, fully focused on your task, trying your best not to be distracted by the way your faces were inches from each other's.

"you're so pretty..."

if there was one thing you knew about drunk jude, it was that had loose lips. he couldn't keep any secret from you whenever he had the right amount of alcohol in his veins, and that often worked in your favour, but right now his words were only distracting you from your job.

"don't say that..." your heart was racing both at his words and at the proximity you two shared.

"i mean it." he was tracing your jaw with his fingers. you felt your hand quiver at the unexpected contact, and afraid you might mess something up because of jude, you quickly put a bandage on top of his, now clean, cut.

you started tidying up everything you used and expected jude to go to his room but he didn't budge.

"what's wrong?" you were a bit worried his injury was more serious than you thought and his brain was just working a bit slower than usual.

"kiss it better... please?" he said pointing at his bandage with a kissy face.

you were torn between kissing or slapping some sense into the boy standing in front of you. jude bent down so your face was in front of his, you obliged because you knew hammered jude would not have let you go to bed before you kissed him better. not because you wanted to, of course.

he was still unmoved, looking deep into your eyes so you took his hand in yours and led him to his bedroom for him to get a good night of sleep.

once you got jude to his bedroom safely, which wasn't an easy task given how starstruck he was at every little everyday thing in the house, he threw himself on his bed and grumbled something about clothes, before taking off his shirt with no prior notice. you immediately looked at your feet to give him some privacy while he changed clothes. he only giggled at your action saying he knows how much you would like to watch undress. which wasn't true, of course.

you took a quick peek, to make sure he was under his sheets. handing him a glass of water once he had his sheets pulled up to his chin and a content look on his face.

"no thanks, i'm not hungry."

"this is a glass of water?" you were perplexed at jude's words. the fatigue of your body preventing you from trying to understand his nonsense.

"well, i'm not hungry for water." you sighed at his childlike behaviour and considered shoving the water down his throat at some point before retracting, not really wanting to deal with the homicide of one the most in-demand football players of the moment.

you placed the glass on his bedside table and walked towards the door, unwilling to talk to a very drunk jude when all your body asked for was a good night of sleep.

but you couldn't ignore jude calling your name in a tired voice. you turned around to listen to whatever he had to say to you, only for him to beckon you closer with his hand. you rolled your eyes but still obliged, sitting on the unoccupied side of his bed.

"i just wanted to know why you were mad at me tonight." you didn't want to have this conversation tonight, but it seemed jude had other plans.

"because even if your intention was right, i think we could've solved the issue with no fits of screaming and fighting. i know you meant right but you can't just act without thinking all the time." you weren't even sure jude was registering your words properly, his eyes moving up and down your face.

"but i was mad at him too, he kept talking to my girl as if i wasn't right there." although jude was hardly convincing by the way the words came out of his mouth all slurred, you had to admit him calling you his girl put a faint smile on your face.

you thought your best friend was done but he just kept right on.

"fuck, you don't even know how many times i wished i was your boyfriend to stop these men looking at you that way. i mean i wished i was your boyfriend all the time, but especially then and also when you show me whoever you're talking to, you really have a vile taste in men y'know."

you looked at jude in total shock, he wasn't aware of what he just said from the way his face had the same drunken expression as before.

"do you mean it?" maybe he was pulling a prank on you. the look on his face didn't seem too serious, but then again he was drunk, how could you know how serious he was?

he laughed, how could he laugh in what was a very serious situation from your point of view?

"of course i mean it, sometimes it even looks like you want me too, maybe i just thought wrong. just tell me you don't want me, i reckon i could live with the fact i'm your best friend a bit longer." jude's nonsense somehow got even more nonsensical. how could he be saying all this with a smile on his face? even worse, how could he possibly think you didn't want him to be your boyfriend? you didn't even know what to say to him. hell, was there even a right thing to say in this exact situation?

"you can't do this to me jude... you can't just say this shit to me when you're drunk out of your mind. what do you expect me to say? i don't even know if you're aware of what you're telling me right now." words finally found their way out, your voice was much less cheery and much angrier than his as you felt a sense of injustice seeping through your veins. how could he say this to you like it was the simplest thing in the world? did he only love you when he was drunk? did he actually mean that, or was he over-exaggerating things under the influence?

"i love you and i loved you for a long time, please believe me, i know you're my best friend, and i don't want to ruin things between us... but i just needed to get this off my chest." jude was truly confused as to why you were so mad at him for this sudden 'confession'. of course, you didn't have to reciprocate his feelings, but he could only think about how he ruined your friendship for good from the way you responded so vehemently.

"goodnight jude." you left his room before he could add anything, and your thoughts were already running wild. you weren't sure if you should be feeling happy that he felt for you what you felt for him, or if you should be mad at jude for dropping this bomb on you so suddenly when he could clearly not think straight, making you doubt about the whole thing.

if you were overthinking before, your brain was now about to explode from everything that just happened in the span of an hour.

once you got under your sheets, no amount of sheep counting, lofi music, or breathing methods could put you to sleep. your brain was screaming at you, urging you to freak out about what just happened. every and each of your thoughts led back to jude, your own brain was torturing you, forcing you to separate truth from fiction at 3am.

you wished jude told you the truth, you wished his drunken words were his sober thoughts. but you didn't know how you were supposed to act like this never happened if this wasn't the case. how could you possibly come back to your little role, so well perfected over the years, of jude's best friend after he gave you the smallest glimpse of hope? your friendship with jude was the most important thing for you, but you wondered if you'd be able to pretend for the rest of your life or if you would go insane before that.

when sleep finally started taking over your endless train of thought, you came to the conclusion that if he meant what he said earlier, he'd have no issues telling you once he sobered up. you comforted yourself with this idea while your eyes closed by themselves, no more energy left in them to fight for the sake of overthinking.

jude had been avoiding you all day. the only time you exchanged an eye contact was during breakfast and even then he quickly went back to his room, not speaking a word to you. you could tell he was avoiding you like the plague, if he happened to be where you were he'd immediately flee the room, suddenly mesmerized by his phone.

you wished you were mad at him for how he was treating you and how he was making you feel, but the truth is, you could only focus on your heart breaking a little more each time he'd walk past you like you were two strangers.

after dining with the rest of your friends, you decided you were sick of jude's little games. if he didn't want to talk to you, then you would confront him whether he liked it or not.

it took you all the strength of the world to knock on his door after taking a deep breath.

no answer.

there was no way he knew it was you, you were sure of it. maybe he was just avoiding everyone tonight? you quickly refuted this idea, you saw him laugh with a couple of your friends half an hour ago.

you knocked again, a bit harsher this time to make sure he'd hear it. still nothing. you were preparing yourself to knock one more time, with much less hope than the first time.

"y/n, what are you doing?" yasmeen's voice startled you, it almost felt like getting caught doing something you shouldn't be doing.

"um... just needed to talk to jude, do you know where he is?" you couldn't help but feel embarrassed at the question. you were his best friend, if anyone should know where he was, that would be you. and your friend's dumbfounded look wasn't helping the heat creeping on your face right now.

"what do you mean? he left like an hour ago, had an unexpected meeting in london or something like that... he didn't tell you?"

it had been a very long time since you felt this way, maybe since middle school when your math teacher made fun of you in front of the whole class. your mouth suddenly drying, the sensation of your heart constricting, and your eyes stinging, trying their best not to let the sadness spill. it all felt like one big joke, you hoped jude would open the door, he'd tell you he was messing with you, he'd tell you everything he said last night again.

but that moment did not come. you couldn't answer yasmeen, afraid that the truth might spill along with your tears if you uttered a word. you simply shook your head, and went to your room, trying your best not to meet her eyes. your friends weren't blind, they could tell something was wrong between jude and you today, although none of them asked you what happened, they just kept a watchful eye on you and the way you looked at jude, in hopes he'd look back.

it felt good to cry in the privacy of your own room, far from the speculative conversation others were most likely having about the whole situation.

once your eyes were short of tears, you somehow found the strength to take your phone and click on your messages with jude to type a new one.

let's just keep doing what you did all day

i'll pretend you don't exist and last night never happened

probably best for us :)

[enoe-of-noen]

An MC who hides under their desk

I forgot about this.

Belphegor

Joins them

Taking naps under their desk may be cramped but hey, it’s comfy

This way he can be even closer

Doesn’t even try convincing them to go onto their bed

Mc always complains about their back after their naps

Beelzebub

Wishes he could join them but baby boy is too big for under desk cuddles

Ends up just snacking, laying down on the bedroom floor and his head on MC’s lap

Doesn’t mind the position

Loves doing this after he has a very physically demanding day

Great way to relax

Asmodeus

Is concerned for your body

You shouldn’t be so cramped!

Your bed is so so so much more comfier than under your desk, hon!

Or, even better, his bed!

Finds it to be an odd hobby of yours - reminds him of Belphie

Always asks if he can massage you if you feel any tension from your cramped positions

Satan

Reminds him of a cat

Finds it absolutely adorable

Although hopes you’re not stressing your muscles

“Would you mind some company?” He says with a smile and a book in hand

Who could reject such a request?

Leviathan

What are you doing down there?

Does it hurt? Is it uncomfortable???

Oh! Do you want some azuki-tan plushies to make it softer? Be right back!

Can he join you? Of course, he’d understand if you wouldn’t want to. He’s just a disgusting otaku who doesn’t even deserve to be in your adorable presence-

Shut him up by hugging him close. Let him know he’s loved.

Don’t worry about him being hesitant, he’ll warm up eventually.

Under your desk could even be considered better than cuddling in his tub.

Mammon

Oi, human! What’re ya doing down there?! Are you cramped? Is anything sore?! Why aren’t you on your comfy bed instead?

Humans are weird.

Well, I mean, Belphie would do this too. Whatever.

Huh? You want me to join?

…

….HA! You think you’re worthy enough to be in such a small space with the great Mammon?

Well you’re darn right! Scooch over!

Lucifer

Surely, your bed would be better.

Come on out, MC, your body will become sore.

Please MC, his old man heart can’t worry more about you than it already does.

Still no? Alright, make some room then.

Never mind, he’s too big for under your desk.

Offer that your lap is free.

He smiles and sighs happily as he rests his head on your lap, oh how he’s never felt such relaxation.

Having you near and close makes his heart beat a million miles per second, it’s absolutely heaven.

He does this on nights where he’s finally free from the stress of work, sometimes suggesting his own desk.

~——————————————————~

I had complete forgotten about this in my endless amounts of drafts. Got kinda lazy with Levi and beyond cause yeah. I had only gotten up to kitty cat boy before I ran out of motivation when I first wrote this - what, months ago? Hope y’all enjoyed.

[teyums]

a/n: cats are so funny because they genuinely think they’re doing something nice for you when they drop a mouse at your feet as an offering and it’s actually the opposite. i was watching my cat play with her little toy and it just brought the terrifying memory back to me bc WHY WOULD YOU THINK I WANT THIS? As soon as the idea came i wrote it, Neteyam just seems like the type LMAOO 😭

neteyam x human!reader

It takes Neteyam quite a while to understand the difference between Na’vi women and human women, especially the difference in what you do and don’t like. But you can’t blame him, you don’t look like his kind, you don’t smell like his kind, hell, you don’t even dress like them.

The Na’vi’s behavior very closely resembles that of a house cat on earth— you’ve noted after studying how Neteyam’s emotions portray themselves through his expressive tail, how his ears dip when he’s angry or perk up when he’s excited, or how he purrs when you finally agree to sitting in his lap instead of your chair while you finish up your work for the day. With the innate behavior of the two creatures mirroring each other almost completely, it’s no surprise that this also heavily factors into what they deem as ‘gifts’ for their favorite human.

Just as housecats will fetch their humans dead animals or rodents as an offering to them, the Na’vi way isn’t too far from that. You hated so much as looking at dead animals, let alone being near them, but when your childhood cat, Loki, used to bring field mice into the home and drop them at the foot of your bed, at least it was small enough for you to scoop into a grocery bag with pinched eyes and a hand over your nose while you fought back the tears of sheer terror.

Most of Neteyam’s catlike nature rendered adorable to you, and while you were more than willing to learn more about the ways of his people, this new custom he’d introduced you to had your heart dropping out of your ass like a brick and your soul exiting your body as if you could do without it. It’s when he shows up to the lab, a dead boar strung over his back with the biggest, toothiest smile you’ve ever seen spread on his lips until a bloodcurdling scream wipes it clean off his expression.

“Oh my God, ‘Teyam, get it away, get it away!” You shrill, so startled you almost tumble out of your desk chair, the hairs on your neck standing straight up as you divert your attention from the animal that’s almost the size of your body, a panicked hand splayed over your rumbling chest and the other extended out, palm towards him.

“What? You don’t like it? Should I have gone with a hexapede (deer) instead?” His brows gather in the center of his forehead when he steps closer and you immediately yelp and scoot back, the metal wheels of your chair screeching against the smooth tile with the effort of your retreat. He’s wholeheartedly confused, because any woman of his kind would find such a gesture as this one beyond thoughtful, and even romantic. Catching one of these things isn’t easy, and a clean kill with an arrow through the heart as to not rupture or damage the meat of the animal is even harder.

“I even skinned it for you!” He urges with a pout.

Your involuntary squeal interrupts his attempt to convince you as you fan your face with your hands, but it seems as if he’s still having trouble understanding.

“Perhaps I should have roasted it as well…” He ponders to himself with a hand pinching his chin, deep in contemplation while he keeps his catch over his shoulder and his eyes cast toward the wall, completely missing the way your trembling hands scramble over your desk for something to launch at him.

“GET IT OUT!”

He winces at the pitch of your shriek, astounded by how that loud of a sound could come out of such a tiny being. His brows raise before he quickly ducks to dodge the one-subject notebook that flaps past his head in a blur of fluttering paper, and he hurriedly obliges your wishes with a few steps back and a rushed ‘okay, okay!’.

Likes + Comments + Reblogs are much appreciated 💗

©teyums 2023

[akxmee]

𝗜 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗟𝗜𝗘𝗦, 𝗜'𝗟𝗟 𝗘𝗔𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗠 𝗨𝗣. //𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎.

choso x stalker!reader

She was obsessed with her cute neighbour, so she always made excuses to enter his house. He knew it, and still let her in.

14k words.

Tw: creepy things stalkers do, mentions of locking people in, obsession. There's no +18 scenes, only a few heated kisses.

'Choso Kamo.'

That's the name of one of your computer's documents. It was the last among the rest of the files, locked with a password and completely secured.

Why, you may ask?

Well, let's put it like this. Everyone has a favorite thing, don't they? Kids have a favorite ice cream flavour, teenagers have a favorite TV show they always watch no matter what, adults have their favorite company to make deals with... Well, you had a favorite too. It was Choso Kamo, your adorable neighbour who moved in next to your house not so long ago.

He was your favorite person, your favorite hobby.

Collecting photos of him was something creepy and you felt bad for it at first, but he looked so cute playing with his cats in them that you started to enjoy having little albums in your carpet about him. You even dedicated a whole schedule to the man; writing down when he worked out, whenever he ate, when he started drawing as he usually did thrice a week..he was just so perfect, so made for you.

Yeah. If god exists, he made Choso just for you.

Fate has intertwined you two the moment he became your neighbour, you were so sure of that. Not only was he totally your type, you guys had a lot in common!

You two liked cats, you liked the same bands, you both liked the same food, enjoyed the same shows, read the same genres when it came to books..you even started to like crafting too when you first saw him working on something at his garden! Yes, the look on his eyes as he sawed the wood, the sweat on his forehead falling as he drove the screws and the exhausted breaths he left as he carried those heavy pieces into his house drove you head over heels, so now you like crafting too! Not because of the hobby itself, but because choso looked so good doing it that you may aswell like the days he crafts something.

Besides, it was tha reason you were working right now. A lemonade with a refreshing effect, that's what you were making for your hardworking neighbour. You added the perfect amount of ice that you knew he loved, pouring the liquid in a cute vase and heading to his home to pay him another visit.

Yeah, another visit.

You visited his house frequently, always having a excuse to do so. And somehow, he was kind enough to always let you enter! Now you both were in "friendly neighbour terms", but you wished to get even closer. Because you could pat his shoulder, but you wanted to hold his hand and because you could talk to him, but you craved to kiss him. Everything you desired was proximity, closeness, being able to call him withouth making any dumb excuse.

But that was something that required patience and insistence, just how you were being right now.

—Y/N? Is something the matter?

Ah, that sound got you out of your trance. You looked up, finding choso who just opened the door. He looked so damn good, and you melted just by the way his tired eyes focused on your figure.

—Not really. I could hear the saw from my house, so..

He scratched the back of his neck, giving you an apologetic smile.

—I figured you did, sorry. I'm crafting some furniture for my house.

You shook your head.

—No, no! It's okay, I understand. I knocked just to give you this, you looked...—Your eyes analyzed him, fighting the urge to drop any compliment. —..exhausted, and i thought you would enjoy this.

The black haired man looked at your hands only to see you offering him the vase of lemonade. He raised his eyebrows, his lips curved in what almost seemed like a cute smile for a second. He grabbed the vase you gave him.

—That's so thoughtful of you, thanks.

He smiled, you nodded.

—Want to come in so i can give you a drink in return?

That's what you were waiting for.

Choso was always so kind, letting you enter his house for food or games whenever you did something for him. That's his way of payment, since you knew he had issues with money and couldn't afford to pay you whenever you helped him change his lights, shelves or doors (he never asked for your help, however you somehow casually just happened to pass by whenever he was struggling with something like that). You always reassured him that it was fine, but he still insisted on having you over for dinner or lunch.

You smiled.

—Yeah, that would be nice.

He let you in, and you sat on his sofá while he brought something for you to drink. Minutes later he came, sat down next to you and gave you a cup of tea.

—Not as refreshing as the lemonade, but I promise it's good.

He handed it to you and you thanked him as a result. You gave it a sip and a surprised expression appeared on your face. He noticed that and asked:

—Is something wrong with the tea?

You instantly shook your head, resting the cup on your lap.

—Nothing at all! It's just, this is my favorite tea.

—It is? It's my favorite tea too.

He laughed at your reaction, as you smiled sweetly at him. To him, you were a cute girl he had for a neighbour that he could rely on when he needed help with his home or ask for help when it came to baking something for his little brother whenever he would visit and also a great companion he liked to have around since you were sweet and fun, but that's just his impression of you. He didn't know you were as awful as he was when it came to baking but mastered it just for him, he didn't know you found boring changing lightbulbs and only found fun the time spent with him and neither was he aware of the fact that you weren't giggling because you thought he was funny, but because you were so excited about having another thing in common with him.

The evening went great, you both laughed and updated eachother with gossip from your neighbourhood. You were making progress day by day, and you could feel It by the way he seemed more and more casual as the visits kept happening. He was growing more comfortable with you, and you were loving it! Choso talked to you about his brother Yuji, about how life working as an artist was and even showed you some photos —which you already saw, but now that he was the one showing them to you they looked even prettier—, he also asked about how to make Apple pies and more.

But that's not one of the main of reasons you came here for.

—Hey, Choso?

He hummed, taking a sip of his lemonade.

—Could I use the bathroom?

He looked at you, then pointed at the hall.

—The last door, the one on the right wall.

You already knew that, but thanked him anyways and went on your way there. You counted the Doors: one, two..then the third one. That's the one you're looking for.

Not because it was the bathroom, no.

Because it was his bedroom.

You entered the room, checking every corner you never saw through the window. He had a small computer on the desk, a few clothes on the floor, school items scattered all over the sheets of the bed such as a few pencils, notes, papers and more to be seen. Looking at the walls, you found several posters and pictures he made along with photos of him and his family: most of them were with yuji, his little brother, at places like a lake, his first day of kindergarten, at a sleepover...you found yourself smiling because of that, he was just so perfect. You had to capture this place, the place that held the most of his personality out of this home. Just a picture, only to visualize what kind of things he likes or what kind of furniture he's more fond of. You just needed a picture, something to have as a reference to analyze him, and it was as simple as clicking a single button of the mini polaroid you carried in your purse. However, as your hand reached for your purse to grab it...

—I think you're at the wrong bathroom, aren't you?

You froze.

Right behind you was Choso, the owner of the voice, leaning on the frame of the door while looking at you waiting for an answer. You weren't even facing him and you could already feel the grin on his face while he talked to you. Did he find out? Did he know the reason you entered his room? A lot of questions ran through your mind in a span of seconds. You tried to keep calm telling yourself things such as "no, how could he ever know? He wouldn't have let me in if he did" or "it's imposible for him to know I had a camera, since I didn't even get to grab it" and eventually, you had the courage to turn around to make visual contact with him and make up a lie.

—I'm sorry, got distracted in the way.

He kept quiet, letting you continue talking since he was not satisfied with your answer. You turn your gaze to the walls of the room, finding a lot of artpieces he made. You looked at him again, pointing at them with your eyes to let him know what you were going to refer to.

—I just wanted to see them up close. You showed me through photos, but i never thought they would be so...detailed. It's truly beautiful.

He seemed to be taken back by your answer.

—You think so?

—I really do. You're a great artist, Choso.

The black haired male looked like he bought your excuse. He looked actually touched by your lie and you obviously knew why; that's why you chose to lie with it in the first place. Choso was never validated as an artist, being always told that he could do so much better if he studied something like economy or science. Nobody really complimented his art withouth mentioning how it, as good as it is, should be kept as a hobby instead of dedicating his whole life to it because it just wouldn't really make a lot of money. He knew that, but still chose that life ignoring people's words. However, sometimes it was imposible to ignore it and he somehow became insecure when people gave his art compliments, since he didn't really know if they meant them or if they think the same as the rest.

And that's exactly what you knew that he was thinking right now.

—You're not going to say anything else?

He expected you to throw your advice now. He was expecting you to say something among the lines of "it's beautiful, but I personally wouldn't dedicate my whole career to it", waiting for something hurtful like it always happens. He waited and waited, and you finally talked.

—Yeah, I do.

He mentally sighed. Oh, he was a fool for believing that you could be different just because you were his friend. Choso ran a hand through his hair, messing up his bangs a little.

However, you proved him wrong.

—Since you draw so good, could you teach me one day? I really need it for this project at school, so i thought that maybe you...

You kept talking, but he stopped hearing whatever you were saying. Choso's expression suddenly stiffened, he gulped and his jaw tensed as you kept going on something he lost a few seconds ago. His eyes lit up with a complete different light, and he took a few steps towards you.

Noticing his silence and the way he walked to you, you grew worried. You did know that this was a sensible topic for him and already planned how his reaction would be, but this was not what you expected as he looked so intimidating while he slowly made his way towards you.

—I'm sorry, did I talk too much? Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, you don't have to actually say yes.

He grabbed you by the shoulders with such force you did not expect from him. Fuck, you messed up didn't you?

By the way he was looking at you, yes the hell you did.

That's the least you ever wanted, honestly. Choso hating you for touching some personal topic was the worst thing that could happen to you. You just complimented him, so why? He was frowing, his muscles tense, his body language indicated that he was nervous and his expression showed he was deep in thought. You wondered how did you even manage to get him like that, to get him to shift his personality like that. One minute he was touched by your words, now he was looking at you like you were something new to his eyes.

And you were, he just wasn't showing it how he should've.

Why? Because he never received this type of trait from someone. Something as simple as that, he never experienced it even though he craved for it for so long.

—What are you doing?

He asks you, his tone demanding for an answer.

—What?

You answer, and there's seconds of plain silence until he talks again.

—To me.

That tone.

That soft tone and cracked voice as he whispered with such tenderness, urging you for an answer desperately.

Now you understood, looking up at him and figuring out his expression. His grip on you was not because he was angry, but because he didn't want you to run away from his question. His frown was not because he was angry at you, but because he was trying to figure himself out. His shaky hands and body language was not screaming at you to stop talking, but to keep doing so.

You finally broke him down.

It took you months worth of visits, weeks and weeks of effort to make this man finally see in you what you see in him. You relaxed.

—You finally see it, don't you?

Your hand traced his jawline softly, watching him close his eyes as he leans into your touch like a puppy. This was all you ever wished, to have him like this. If you knew it only took a few compliments, some deep talks about life the nights after you help him fix his garden and making him some food from time to time to make him finally look at you like this, you would have done it sooner. But once again patience is key, so you don't complain now that he opens his eyes and adverts his gaze towards you in such a delicate way.

—I do.

You grin.

—That's good.. that's good. How about you and I, having dinner at a restaurant tonight? Let's get to know eachother.

He hesitates at first but then nods, according to your words.

—Sounds like a good plan.

You already know everything about him, but the idea of having a date seemed so casual and so cute you couldn't help but cheer internally. How would it be? Would he dress and look handsome for tonight? Would you two share your first kiss then? Would he lend you his jacked if it's cold? God, you were so excited! He was just the perfect man, choso had everything you ever wanted and that's all that mattered. It's okay if it rains, choso will cover you from the water. Doesn't matter if your heels tire you, choso will carry you home. It's also okay if you don't like the food at the restaurant, choso will surely share his with you. He actually will, because you know everything about him when it comes to a relationship too. It only took creating a fake account and pretending to be some random girl to ask his exes how he was in a relationship. You had to be informed of what you would be getting into, of course!

They all agreed that the man in front of you was a true romantic, detail-oriented and above all very observant of his partner. Aside from that, the complaints that caused them to break up were each one different from the other. However, when it came to complaints or the reason they broke up, each was different so you didn't have anything to base yourself on.

But oh, you were rushing things again weren't you? You two didn't even have a first date, and you were already thinking about how you would be as a couple! You'll see when the time comes.

—Then, I'll leave and you come pick me up at 9. I'll look pretty for you, so look handsome for me.

He looked at you with certain surprise.

—You'll leave?

—Well, yes. You don't want me to look like this at the date, no?

You signaled to yourself, making him look at your simple dress and face with a casual makeup. You wished to look pretty and have an elaborated makeup to your date, and he seemed to catch up. Choso shook his head.

—That's what I thought. I'll see you at nine, then?

—Yeah.

Yet, his grip on your shoulders didn't cease. You gave him a few seconds to let you go, but he didn't.

—Choso?

He looked to the side, and a slight blush could be seen on his cheeks.

—I'm sorry, you don't have to do it if you're uncomfortable but..can I at least get a goodbye?

Oh, oh.

You were speechless for a second, did he just ask for you to kiss him that politely? Then you chuckled, making him look at you with an embarrassed expression. His grip on you disappeared, and he covered half of his face with his hand for you not to see the shame in his face.

—Nevermind, i'm taking things too far. I'll see you at nine.

He didn't even have the chance to run away from the situation when you grabbed the collar of his sweater and gently pulled on it to get him closer, giving him a little peck on the lips. Choso was the one to quickly pull away in surprise, but soon he realized what just happened and leaned back again for another one since he wasn't satisfied with that little taste. He grabbed cupped your cheek with one hand while his lips collided with yours in a way that you weren't even upset your first kiss isn't at the date. The feeling was almost as if they were giving you something that you have been longing for for a long time, something that you have only had the pleasure of imagining becomes a reality.

Then you pulled away, in need of air.

—That's enough for a goodbye, isn't it?

He looked at you in silence, panting as he catched his breath. Soon after, his lips were on yours again with more intensity than before, dancing a tango of emotions where the music increased with each gasp of air. Eventually his hand found the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, and his tongue explored your mouth with a lot of ease. He seemed to have a lot of experience, while you were left trying to catch up on his rythm.

—Not enough. Five more minutes and you go, please.

He pleaded when you separated before kissing you again. You didn't even have time to say yes, but the way you reciprocated the kiss told him more than enough. Soon enough his other hand found your waist and guided you out of the room, through the hall. His bedroom had this huge window —which you were really thankful for, by the way. It always gave you such a good view of him when you were looking at him through your window—, and he didn't want anyone looking at you two since it was an easy thing to do, so he guided you through the hall to another room between heated kisses with your fingers tangled in his hair. You ended up with your back against the wall while Choso took some keys out of his pocket, opening the door while leaving a trail of light kisses on your neck.

It wasn't strange for him to have a key to a room, since it was a normal thing for people in your neighbourhood to do so since burglasses were quite common so they kept valuable things safe in a room. You guessed he was taking you there since it was a more private area, but you found yourself with a room. Not enough time was left for you when you were thrown on a bed, having choso on top of you while pinning one of your wrists above you. You looked at him, who stared back at you intensely.

—Choso, five minutes already passed..

The man looked at you for a few seconds more, like he was admiring you. He looked absolutely breathtaking, His hair was messy, his eyes half open, his breathing altered, and his lips stained with the lipstick you were wearing. You dreamed so many times of this moment, yet you also wished for the date to happen so you couldn't entertain this more.

—I'm sorry, I just can't help It.

He kisses you once again. A soft tender kiss is left in your lips.

—Now that I have you, i can't let you go.

Once again. This kiss seemed to have more emotion than the rest, and it felt like he was devouring you.

—I can't let you go.

And again. Now, the kiss feels desperate and feral, he was kissing you again and again as if he was an animal.

—I can't. You can't go.

You were getting worried about what he was saying, but when you tried to get your wrist out of his hand a metalic sound was heard. You pulled.

CLANK.

You tried to pull again.

CLANK.

—Choso?

You asked, confused.

His hands left your wrist, and then you saw.

You were chained up to the bed.

He got up from the bed, and you tried to do too. However, you failed and almost fell off the bed due to the force of the pull that the metal gave you in reaction to your quick attempt of getting on your feet. He stopped you from falling, sitting you on the bed once again.

—Shh.. it's okay, don't freak out.

—What do you mean don't freak out? Is this some time of kinky roleplay?!

You tried to pull on the chain with your free hand, but it was no use. He scratched the back of his neck nervous, making a face of disappointment.

—Yeah, I figured you wouldn't like this place at first but don't worry, you'll like it eventually. It's pretty, isn't it? Look.

He grabbed your face and forced you to look around, and you found the least thing you could ever expect from this man. How could you not notice this when you entered? There were pictures of you all over the walls, a map of the city and different dots connected on a cardboard. A lot of your pictures were also on a desk, alongside with little hearts drawn of them. There was a part of one of the walls that was completely covered in drawings of your face in different angles, of your body and you doing some of your hobbies. Anyone that looked at it would easily think you were his muse. A computer was opened on the desk that had different recordings of the outsides of your house, and you were sure all of those pendrives scattered near were just about the same thing.

—It looks creepy now, but I'll eventually clean it. You know, you weren't supposed to come here today..—He, still grabbing your face, made you look at him by raising your chin with the intention that you maintain eye contact with him.—I was still making cute furniture for you to enjoy this place..but then i saw it. I saw what you tried to do.

His free hand reached his pocket, taking out your mini polaroid that was supposed to be in your purse. When did he take it? Fuck, it probably was while you two were kissing.

—I saw that you, deep inside, were just as sick as I am. And i couldn't resist it.

Your jaw tensed, but you still talked.

—Why?

He grinned, and his voice came out in a whisper.

—Because i have been waiting for so, so long.

He smiled at your innocence. Did you really think you were being sly with that dirty, little secret of yours? No, Choso had his eye on you for longer than you did. He saw you at work once, then he grew obsessed with you even if you never noticed him. Seeing you at work was not enough, so he eventually bought a House next to yours as if fate wanted him to get closer to you, and noted how to catch your attention. He changed his whole personality into some shy, cute and fun but still serious with black cat aesthetic boy just because he knew it was your type, and even went as far as creating profiles on social media acting like his exs whenever you, with another account he managed to find, asked about how he was in a relationship. That account was simply "asking for a friend", but he knew better than that. He lied to you, telling you just what you wanted to hear about a perfect boy in a relationship and stupid reasons of the breakup each different from another so you wouldn't think he had any specific red flag.

God, you were so adorable that he could lock you up forever.

Except for the fact that he already was.

—No, you're another whole level of sick. You were so normal, we had a lot of things in common..

—But we do! Y/N, look at me.—he brushed a strand of hair off your face, smiling softly.—We have things in common. We're both so in love with eachother, it's okay..

—No, Choso. You were meant for me..

His smile faded.

—I still am.

—No you're not. You were fake.

You were conflicted. You were sick in the head, but he was just another whole level. While you were happy with having him by your side, keeping photos of him and observing the man, he was locking you in. You had absolutely no right to complain, because you were just a little bit less bad than he was even though you were still guilty.

You tried to fool him, and you ended up being fooled.

—You're in denial, Y/N. Everything I am now I will forever be if you like it, I built myself just for you!

He was growing more demanding by minute, his grip on your face increased and you couldn't open your mouth to reply.

—You liked cats, I like cats too. You like some bands? well guess what, i like them too! You like that damn tea?! I like it too even though it tastes like shit!

He kept screaming, trying to reason with you.

You bit your lip and slipped out of his grasp. He seemed upset at that, but eventually decided to let you be.

You were still too in shock to understand what he did for you, weren't you?

—Fine, do whatever you want..—He moved away from you, leaving you there still chained to the bed. —It's not like you'll be going anywhere soon.

He scoffed, and you felt such a rush of emotions going on at the same time. Every feeling that you may have accumulated towards him during all these months disappeared from your heart as if they were pieces of a puzzle. Each moment you grew excited because you were just about to visit him, each photo you took of him and hung on the wall while you daydreamed of the day you could take one together with him, each moment you replayed in your head every conversation with him again and again before going to sleep...it all vanished. The love you felt slowly turned into a darker feeling that extinguished it until it turned into a kind of repulsion, disgust. You knew that the day will come when you your karma will come for you for having gotten into such dangerous terrain, but you didn't expect it to be this way.

Specially for it to be this man.

The man you idealized so much, the man you thought to be so perfect.

The man you claimed to have so many things in common with.

Well, now you knew for sure.

You did have a lot in common with Choso Kamo.

Author's note: not my favorite fanfic, honestly. It's not edited since it's 2am and i don't wanna re-read, so tell me if you find any mistakes! By the way, new chapter of "dogs and Cats café" will be out next week when i'm finally done with my final exams.

Hope you liked this, I'll be reading your comments 💕

[candycandy00]

Once Upon a Time - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 2

Retold fairytales featuring the JJK men! This is Sleeping Beauty featuring Sukuna! After your parents are killed, leaving you as the young queen, you hire the mysterious and violent Sukuna to be your Captain of the Guard to protect you from an evil fairy’s curse. You’re in love with him, but he just keeps refusing you! 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Read Gojo x Cinderella Here!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. AU. Reader as Sleeping Beauty, Sukuna as her Captain of the Guard. Somnophilia (sort of). Paralysis (sort of). Rough sex.

Any feedback is adored! Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more and @benkeibear.

It’s a very strange sensation, falling into your supposed “deep sleep”. You can still hear everything going on around you, Sukuna yelling your name almost angrily, as if he can intimidate you into waking up. You can still feel everything too, his arms holding you, then lowering you to the floor. It feels like he’s cradling you in his lap, but that would be ridiculous. You suspect that if your eyes were open, you could see everything too. 

It’s not so much a deep sleep as paralysis. You can’t move, can’t speak, can’t even open your eyes. But you’re very much aware of everything. 

You feel Sukuna’s palm tapping your face in a light slap. “Wake up!” he shouts, then grunts as if frustrated, then calls for more guards. You listen as he commands one of them to fetch a doctor and another to inform your advisers. 

“Is the assassin still in the castle?” one of the guards asks. 

“It was the fucking cat!” Sukuna yells. Then he says, “There it is! Grab it and snap its neck!”

No! Briar did nothing wrong! He didn’t understand!

You want to scream the words but you can’t. 

You hear a sigh next to you. “Wait, she likes the damn thing. Just find the needle in its fur and let it go,” Sukuna says. 

You feel immense relief. You’re sick of things dying because of you and your curse.

“I’ll put her in her bed,” he tells the others, and you feel yourself being lifted and then carried. A few seconds later, you feel the softeness of your bed beneath your back. You miss the warmth of Sukuna’s arms though. 

Over the next hour, multiple doctors and advisers visit your chambers, some trying to help, others just curious to see the curse in action. 

Sukuna stays in the room, occasionally speaking even though he rarely talked to these people before. Is he… doing this on purpose? To let you know he’s still here, watching over you? No, he doesn’t know you can hear him. 

At some point one of the advisers asks another, “Should we try waking her? The former king and queen told us about that method.”

A hush falls over the room, then Sukuna says, “So you know how?”

The other adviser says, in an uneasy voice, “Her parents were told a specific method, and they told us, in case something happened after they died. It’s a bit of a sensitive topic.”

You listen intently. You knew there was some secret method of waking you in this situation, but no one would tell you what it is. Instead, your parents and later the advisers had looked extremely uncomfortable as they told you not to worry about it. 

The first adviser who broached the topic clears his throat. “To awaken the queen, a man must… lay with her… intimately.”

What?! 

You hear Sukuna’s voice again. “So someone needs to fuck her?”

“Er… yes, Captain. That is correct. We find it uncomfortable to discuss, as you can imagine. She is unconscious after all, and cannot give her consent.”

A third adviser, a woman, speaks up then. “Remember what she told us before? I believe her exact words were, ‘I don’t care if the method involves letting every person in town piss on my face, do whatever it takes to wake me’. I think we should honor her wishes, regardless of how distasteful we find it.”

Yes! That’s the choice I would make for myself! 

One of the male advisers asks, “Who will do the deed?”

If you were able to, you would be holding your breath. There’s a pause, then Sukuna speaks again. “I will.”

!!!

“You?!” one of the advisers asks incredulously. “We can’t allow a violent barbarian we know nothing about to-“

“Wait,” the lady adviser says, cutting him off. “This ‘barbarian’ has saved our queen’s life more times than we can count these past three months. And everyone in the kingdom can see that she has a certain… affection for him. I believe she would choose him herself if possible.”

Yes! Yes! Please don’t let anyone else touch me! It has to be Sukuna!

After some more discussion, the advisers finally all agree to let Sukuna try to wake you. You hear their shuffling steps as they leave your chambers. 

************************

Sukuna looks down at his sleeping princess. Laid out on her bed, dress spread around her, she looks more lovely than ever, more innocent. 

“Hey, you’re not really asleep, are you?” he asks, standing over her bed. 

She gives no response. Of course she doesn’t. 

He leans over her, placing his knee on the bed beside her and his hand on her calf, slowly sliding her dress up. Her cheeks redden, and Sukuna laughs. 

“I knew it. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been with you too much lately, or if it’s a side effect of the curse, but your thoughts are coming through to me. Maybe not in words, but I’m feeling the gist of it. Like earlier with the cat. I felt that you didn’t want anyone to kill it.”

His hand moves further up, dragging the hem of her dress up high enough to reveal the fresh set of frilly panties she’s wearing. “I also felt it when you got all excited about me waking you up, how it has to be me.”

Her skin feels hot. He can feel her sense of embarrassment. “Oh? Getting bashful now?” he asks, untying the laces of her corset. “If you prefer, we can let someone else do it. Or we can just let you sleep for a while…”

The word “no!” flashes through his brain, radiating from her. He grins. “So I’m good enough to wake the princess? I’m not gonna lie, having you so helpless, unable to move or speak, is turning me on.”

He rips open the corset and pulls it off her body, then pulls the dress over her head, moving her limp body as he needs to fully strip her. Once she’s completely naked, he stands back to look. 

She’s more beautiful than he imagined in those nights when he jacked off in his bed, picturing her whimpering beneath him. The night he saw her pleasuring herself, the room had been dark enough to conceal much of her form. But now, with every lantern in the room lit, he could see her in all her glory.  

“Don’t tell me not to stare,” he says, sensing her thoughts again. “I’ve been waiting to get a good look at this soft body, bare and spread out for me. My eyes are feasting.”

Her whole body is flushing. She looks so delectable. How did he resist for this long? When he heard the method for waking her, he knew it had to be him. Despite his reluctance to bed her, the thought of any other man touching his adorable princess, seeing her in such a vulnerable state, made him want to stab the nearest living creature. 

And he knew what she wanted. Even without her thoughts somehow flowing into his mind, he knew she would rather die than let anyone else see her being weak and helpless. 

He strokes one hand over her face, wishing he could see that defiant look in her eyes again. He leans his face down close to hers, remembering how she looked earlier when she thought he was going to kiss her. That look of anticipation, of longing… it had almost made him crack. He can feel her emotions now, flooding his own thoughts. She wants this more than anything. 

He kisses her lips, pressing his tongue into her mouth to lick every inch of it, savoring the sweet taste of her. While still locked in the kiss, he slides his hand up and gently pulls one of her eyelids open. 

****************************

The light almost hurts your eye, but you adjust quickly. As you guessed, you can see when your eyes are held open, and right now you see Sukuna’s face hovering right over yours as he kisses you, his own eyes looking straight into your one open one. 

He grins into the kiss, then pulls away. “Your pupil just dilated. So you can see too.”

You wish he hadn’t broken the kiss. You’ve been craving it for so long. But then he releases your eyelid, letting it close before you feel him climb onto the lower end of the bed. His hands appear on your legs, spreading them apart. Ah! It’s embarrassing to be opened up so lewdly before him, even if you’ve wanted him for months. 

“I bet your sense of touch is much stronger with your eyes shut, huh? Every sensation that much more intense…”

His voice is like velvet as you feel his thumb rubbing up and down your slit. “You’re dripping, princess. This pretty little pussy is drooling for me.”

Your heart is racing, your breaths coming quicker. 

“It’s just too bad I can’t hear that sweet voice of yours moaning while I do this,” he says, then his fingers part your folds, and you feel his hot, wet tongue glide over your open pussy. 

If you could move, you would be arching your back, bucking your hips from the electrifying pleasure that shoots through you. His tongue circles your swollen, defenseless clit teasingly, one of his fingers sliding inside you. Your rapid breaths are getting louder, your body desperate for his tongue to hit the right spot. When he laughs, you feel the vibration of it, and you think this must be some form of torture he’s devised. 

“Getting impatient, princess? This poor little clit feeling neglected?” 

If you could, you would be begging him to get on with it, to just lick your clit already. But you can’t, and his tongue continues to move all around it. Finally, his tongue withdraws, and a second later, you feel his teeth graze over the tender little bud. 

Your body sucks in a sharp breath, the pleasure almost too much to bear. Then his lips close over it, suckling it as his tongue runs over the tiny tip. All the while, his finger is plunging in and out of your tight hole. 

You cum right then, your helpless body twitching beneath him as pleasure washes over you in waves. Oh, how you wish you could cry out his name. 

Sukuna withdraws his finger and moves off the bed. You hear fabric rustling, and picture him undressing. It’s not fair! You’ve wanted to see him naked this whole time! 

He laughs again, and you remember that he can sense what you’re thinking. “You want to see me that badly? Maybe I’ll be nice and show you.”

His fingers are at your eye again, peeling back the lid to let you see him standing over you. Only his bare torso is visible, but it’s enough to get you heated again. He’s absolutely gorgeous, with a perfectly toned, muscular body and those tantalizing tattoos running along his whole torso. 

“There’s something else you need to see,” he says, and his voice seems to drop the teasing, almost playful tone for a moment. “There’s a reason I kept turning you down. I didn’t want to wreck you. But now we’re in this situation, and there’s no avoiding it.”

He lets your eye close for a moment, and when he opens it again, he says, “Have a good look, Princess. Still think you can handle me?”

It takes you a moment to process what you’re looking at. He’s holding something in his hand, something that should not be that big. Something the size of his arm. It’s an absolute monster of a cock, hard as stone and pointing upwards, clear fluid leaking from the fat tip. 

Oh god, forget wrecking you, that thing could kill you! 

As he lets your eye close once again, you feel him climb back onto the bed. He must sense your fear, because he pushes your legs up and apart and says, “I’ll try not to hurt you. Too badly.”

This position is too obscene! He holds your legs back, your knees nearly touching your shoulders, leaving you more vulnerable than ever. You feel the tip of his enormous cock prodding at your slick little hole, and you shudder. 

Then, he begins pushing the massive organ into your warm, soft, pliable body. 

Ahhh, it’s too big!

You feel one of his hands on your face. “What happened to all that bravado from before?” he asks. “You were so desperate for me to fuck you, so sure you could take me. Now you’re getting what you wanted.”

There’s a softness to his voice that doesn’t match his taunting words, and despite it all he’s moving slowly, slipping into you inch by inch instead of plunging in all at once like you imagined. 

Even so, the stretch is painful, and a whimper escapes your lips. 

“Giving up already, princess? I thought you were tougher than this.”

I’m not giving up! I want you even deeper!

He opens both your eyes this time, his thumbs sliding your eyelids up. 

“You sure about that?” he asks you, red eyes looking as wild as the day you met him. 

Yes!

He grins. “There’s my brave little princess.”

I’m a queen, not a pri-

He suddenly shoves in, still holding your eyes open, still staring into them, as his cock fully sheaths itself inside you. Your body jerks, your breath catches in your throat. If you could scream, the whole castle would hear it. 

“Your pupils are really dilating now!” he says. 

It hurts, but at the same time, the feeling of being so full of him excites you. He lets your eyes close again, and for a few moments he remains still. Then, he begins moving, slow and easy at first, but giving way to deeper, harder thrusts. 

He groans above you. “You’re tight as fuck! I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold back if ever stuck my dick in this little virgin pussy!”

He hits a spot that has your body spasming around him and tears leaking from your closed eyes. 

“There it is… I found your weak spot,” he says. “You like it really deep, don’t you?”

Oh god… it feels so good! 

Your mind is going blank, pleasure and pain mixing so deliciously as he does whatever he pleases with your body. 

**************************

Sukuna can’t stop himself now. The feeling of her unbelievably tight cunt clenching him everytime he plunges in is overriding all his willpower. 

“Fuck… never had a virgin… take me this deep before…” he grunts out, intentionally hitting the spot that has her limp body shaking. 

Her thoughts are spilling out, broken and choppy, barely comprehensible: “want more… want you… love you… hurts… feels so good… go deeper… cum inside me…”

He reaches up to caress her face again, leaning in to run his tongue across her lips. “I will, princess. I’ll fill you up so good.”

She cums again, her pussy clenching him in a vice grip, her mouth gasping for air, and it’s the most lovely sight in the world. 

“It’s time for you to wake up,” he says, his voice going uncharacteristically soft. “Your kingdom is waiting for you. I’m waiting for you, my queen.”

He thrusts in so deep, it feels like he’s become a part of her, before releasing his seed, shooting his thick cum into her quivering pussy. 

Her eyes snap open, she breathes in deeply, staring at him in wonder. Then her arms wrap tightly around his neck as she leans up to kiss him. When she pulls away, she gives him that haughty look he’s come to enjoy. 

“Took you long enough,” she says. 

He grins. “You’re acting awfully high and mighty for someone who just came on my cock with tears running down her face.”

She flushes and averts her eyes, and he realizes he can’t feel her thoughts anymore. Ah well, not like he needs that to know how she feels. 

He slowly pulls out and sits up, looking down at her exhausted body. She’s still shaking slightly, breathing hard. It makes him want to take her again. But he has other pressing matters to take care of. 

“I’m going into the woods to find the old fairy,” he tells her. “And I’m gonna chop her fucking head off. She’ll be sending regular assassins now that the curse didn’t work. She’ll never leave you be until you’re dead.”

His queen sits up in bed, grasping his arm. “Take me with you!”

“Of course. I don’t trust these weaklings to protect what’s mine. Let’s go on the offensive!”

[lovebugism]

oh my god,,,, gurl!!!! THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT fic is sooo good 😫 my heart literally breaks every time I read this story. Thank you for blessing us with this masterpiece <3

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | square one

summary: eddie makes a confession that's been weighing heavy on his heart. you realize that your future with him is haunted by ghosts from your past. pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader word count: 16.3k warnings: hopper, steve, and robin being the reader defense squad, hints at reader's previously poor mental health, mentions of abusive and toxic relationships, a banshees of inisherin quote, b*lly h*rgrove because he needs a warning. (pretend any typos don't exist pls and thank u!) a/n: guess who's back, back again? ✨✨ i'd apologize for disappearing for a month, but then there'd be apologies in all my notes, so just know that i'm sorry every time i disappear unexpectedly, okay? 🥲 thanks for being so patient! please enjoy this long-awaited installment of tcar ily <3

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( SERIES MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

Eddie’s got a 1986 Van Halen tape in his boombox and a baby pink heart stitched into the fabric of his shirt. He’s the least metal he’s ever been, but he couldn’t be happier.

You keep your promise to him to patch up his torn Hellfire tee. If anything, you use the absentminded assurance as your excuse to see him again. The night you shared before, all but baring your scarred souls underneath glittering stars and streams of pale moonlight, hadn’t satiated your hunger for him. Eddie left you craving in a way you weren’t used to before — a yearning to be close to him that went beyond the boundaries of physical intimacy.

It was a simple sort of longing. It was a homesickness. A sense of nostalgia for a love you’d never felt before.

You wish you could wear Eddie’s adoration for you like a blanket, wrap yourself in the hand-stitched quilt of many colors and bundle it tighter around your shoulders when the cold comes. You want his softness to hold you in a way you’ve never been able to hold yourself.

You feel swaddled in it, succumbed and cloaked and at peace in all his tenderness. You’ve never been so at ease, so blissfully comforted by the presence of another human being. And Eddie feels all of that, every ounce of warmth you feel, because it pours out of you like rays of sunshine and bathes him in shades of gold.

He didn’t think you could get any softer than you had been that night at Skull Rock, until you were nestled in his unmade bed the next morning. You curled your legs underneath you as you weaved the needle and thread through the tear in his t-shirt, eyes squinted and tongue poking out the side of your mouth in an astute concentration. 

All of the sudden, you were marshmallow fluff and honey on toast — made of all things sickly sweet that made his stomach feel suddenly full. 

You finish mending the rip in record time and beam when he wears the heart-shaped stitching with pride. The rest of the day thereafter was spent in the tiny confines of his one hundred square-inch bedroom. From there, the both of you came to the silent understanding that you didn't want to spend another day apart.

The weekend had given you a limited sort of freedom, allowed you to pretend that you lived in a world with no responsibilities or anything other than Eddie Eddie Eddie, but adulthood made you no such promises. He had a side job to do to keep himself afloat, and you had a cat that thought it was the end of the world anytime you were gone for longer than a night. Both of those things together meant that the eve of parting was ultimately inevitable.

Every second you spent away from Eddie felt like you were grieving.

You mourned for him in the darkness of your apartment and tried to pretend you weren’t half a person in the cat food aisle at Melvald’s.

You tried to lessen the unbearable distance with phone calls, though it didn’t come nearly as close as feeling his fingers thrumming imaginary beats on your thigh or his heartbeat thudding against your ear. 

But his voice filled the emptiness of your one-bedroom apartment and the Eddie Munson shaped hole he’d left just behind your ribcage, and that was good enough for you.

When you weren’t with him, you were roaming around your apartment like some kind of ghost, with the phone tucked between your ear and shoulder and the rotary clutched in your free hand. 

You cook yourself dinner with him ranting about his day in your ear. You hold the receiver closer to Bowie and force him to hear her purr when she’s being exceptionally cute. He falls asleep some hours later to the sound of your soft snores, and you wake up the next morning to the sounds of his.

It was pathetic, truly.

You’d be gagging at how sweet it was if it wasn’t happening to you.

But it was.

Every ounce of this sticky sweet goodness was yours, and it tasted just like honey on your tongue. 

It was the honeymoon stage times a thousand, all rose-colored and reflecting light — your own personal utopia. It brought with it a heavenly sort of refuge, a bubble of peace you never wanted to pierce.

Eddie basks in the serenity of it all when he finally has you with him again. You’re in his lap, on his lips, and all over him, but it still isn’t quite close enough. He doesn’t think he’ll be satisfied until you’ve successfully melted with him and your limbs have entwined with his like tree roots, destined to remain that way for the next couple of centuries or so.

And it’s weird because he could hardly handle living in such a tiny trailer with Wayne, let alone stomach more than a couple hours with the guys from Hellfire all in one place. But you? You entered his life all at once and now he can’t remember what it was like without you.

He doesn’t particularly want to, if he’s being real honest.

It’s why he’s always less enthused about letting you leave when you’ve both got responsibilities dragging you apart. He begs you to stay with him a few hours more, pleads for you to stick around while he makes a quick deal or an emergency pick-up when Dustin Henderson calls and says he needs a ride. 

And you promise you’ll wait on him there, because he makes it virtually impossible to say no to his rosy pouted lips and chocolate syrup puppy dog eyes.

That’s when you run into Wayne for the first time, when Eddie’s out and you’re making breakfast for when he comes back.

French toast and scrambled eggs sizzle on the stove and warm the kitchen with all its cinnamon confections. It makes the man’s face screw up in confusion when he steps inside the trailer because he’s never known Eddie to cook a day in his life. And then his eyes find you — a young, pretty girl all alone in his kitchen with his nephew’s van gone from the drive.

“…Who the hell are you?” he wonders gruffly and pops a cigarette between his lips, totally unbothered.

He’s got no reason to be intimidated by the stranger in his trailer. He’s more confused than anything else, and he’s got this contorted look on his face like he’s blaming the exhaustion from the graveyard shift for his vision of you.

“Oh— my god,” you mumble through the mouthful of whipped cream you’d squeezed into your mouth moments prior. You fight to swallow it all down. “Uh. Hi. I’m, um… I’m Eddie’s... girlfriend?”

It sounds like you’re lying. 

In some ways, it feels like you are. 

You’ve been spending more time in his trailer than in your own home, but it’s not like either of you has motioned to make anything official just yet.

He eyes you with a tired and heavy gaze, eyes as dark and as infinite as Eddie’s. The man gives you a once-over and then chuckles lowly to himself as he tosses his corduroy jacket onto the back of the recliner and his tin lunchbox to the coffee table.

You shift awkwardly on the other side of the room. “…What is it?”

“When Eddie said he was talkin’ to a pretty girl on the phone every night, I thought he was lyin’,” he admits through hearty chuckles. 

It makes you laugh too. 

There’s little talking after the fact, besides you offering him some of the breakfast on the stove and him joking that you should come around more often.

You recount the story to Eddie when he returns, utterly mortified about the whole thing. You’re even more embarrassed when the boy finds amusement in your horror and starts to chuckle to himself — not exactly at you, but not with you either.

He laughs louder when you swat at him for it. You clamber on top of him, mattress squeaking mattress under your weight, as you demand him to stop through giggles of your own.

Somewhere down the line, both of you stop caring. 

Neither of you is quite sure where the conversation stopped and ended, only that when you started kissing, you couldn’t stop. 

They weren’t innocent little pecks, but they weren’t sloppy and full of tongue either. You press your lips together with the intent of being as close as you can to the other, like you haven’t spent every second you could together.

Neither of you will be satisfied until you’ve swallowed each other whole.

And you, you’ve got this ache for him. A swirling of want that’s constantly rippling in your belly for this boy. He’s just not usually under you when it’s happening — and now that he is, the crackling embers have burst into white and blue flames behind your sternum.

Your lips click each time you part, a lewd noise you never want to stop hearing. The sound of it gives you goosebumps, like a good song you’ve just heard on the radio. You wonder if Eddie can feel them as his hands start to creep up beneath your shirt and find purchase along your waist. 

You open his mouth with your own and sneak your tongue inside just as you roll your hips over his lap.

It’s the most forthcoming either of you had been in your three-day stint of nonstop talking. Even when you were over at the trailer, totally alone and pressed underneath him, it was otherwise completely innocent. You just make out like a couple of teenagers until one of you wants to make a food run or offers to roll a joint. 

And you like that. You like that he doesn’t expect anything from you, but it does get a little agonizing when you’ve tried every attempt to give yourself to him and he just won’t take it.

Like usual, Eddie tenses when he feels you grinding on top of him — partly because he feels a tingle at the base of his spine when he gets instantly half-hard, but mostly because he knows there’s nothing he can do about it.

He keeps preaching to himself it’s not the right time, it’s not the right time, it’s not the right time — but he’s got no idea when it’ll ever be the right time, if it’ll ever be the right time, or if he’ll know it when it comes.

Because he’s had you to himself for days now — no Wayne, no responsibilities, no pressure — with his tongue rutting against yours and your hands fidgeting with the metal buttons of his jeans, and it still doesn’t feel good enough. Eddie doesn’t feel good enough.

He’s not sure if he ever will.

And it’s not you. God, it’s the farthest thing from you. As far as Eddie’s concerned, he’s never had more fun with anyone else. He’s never laughed harder with anyone else. He’s never felt as comfortable with anyone as he’s starting to feel around you. So he’s not entirely sure why he finds the rest of it so hard. 

Eddie wants you so bad that the ache of all his yearning is palpable. It’s like the weight of it is what’s keeping him from you — unstoppable force, immovable object, blah, blah, blah. 

Either way, it leaves him entirely unable to take things further with you, however much he wants to. There’s something in his way and it’s him. 

Your heartache is his own when he has to pull away from you.

“You okay?” you ask him with wide eyes and swollen lips, always so concerned for him.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” he’s quick to assure you. He’s still breathless when he fidgets beneath you, trying to prop himself up on his headboard without rubbing his half-hard cock against your thigh.

When he succeeds, he musters a smile that shakes at the edges. “It’s just… you know, not everything… It doesn’t have to be about sex, you know?”

He makes himself as soft as possible for you when he says this. He gets rid of all the usual teasing lilts that tend to lurk on his tongue as the words spill from his mouth. The last thing he wants to do is hurt your feelings or, in some roundabout way, make you think you’re the problem. 

He just wants you to know that that isn’t why he’s been wanting to spend so much time with you. There was never an ulterior motive with him other than all the adoration he holds in his hands and his mouth for you.

The strike of hurt that flashes across your face is obvious to only Eddie, who’s spent enough time mapping out your features to know what twitches are ones of discontent. The slight frown that dips between your brows when they scrunch together for half a second comes like a stroke of lightning. It’s a brief flash of purple in the sky that leaves so quickly that it makes you wonder if it was ever there at all.

You fidget on his lap, not resting as comfortably upon him as you had been just moments before. “Oh…” you murmur through soft, jutted-out lips. “Sorry. I, I didn’t—”

“No, it’s not— that’s not what I—” he tries to assure over your insecure stammers, but succeeds only in tripping over himself in return. He cuts himself off with a breathy laugh, shaking his head while his fingers fidget on your hips. “That’s just not what this is about for me, you know? I just… I wanna spend time with you.”

It’s easily the softest thing he’s ever said to you — to anybody, for the matter — and the marshmallow sweetness of it all wraps around you like wisps of pink cotton candy.

Your apprehensiveness twists into something lighter, a pair of twinkling eyes and a bashful smile.

“Oh,” you hum again, obviously more pleased than before. “That’s nice…”

“No one’s ever said that to you before, have they?” Eddie asks you.

He tries to muster a crooked smirk as the words leave his mouth, but he’s got a feeling he already knows the answer. Hearing you affirm his suspicions will do nothing more than make him angry at all the assholes that had you before him, at everyone who taught you that you were good for sex and hardly a thing else. 

It makes him wish that he’d gotten to know you sooner. Maybe then you’d understand that he’d be happy just holding you like this and never doing anything more.

You don’t answer him verbally, just shake your head with your lips pursed softly to the side. You look more innocent than anything he’s ever seen before, even with your lipstick smeared on your chin. 

He’s still not quite sure how someone could be so reckless with such a fragile thing — to watch you break and not spend the rest of time grieving to know that you’ll never be quite the same again. 

There’s a primal instinct that swims in him then, an urge to keep you in his arms and locked in the confines of his trailer forever and ever. He wants to keep the wolves of Hawkins, Indiana from ever getting a whiff of you again. It’d be more than they deserved, anyway.

“God, you have got to get better boyfriends, sweetheart,” Eddie tells you with a playful lilt in his voice despite the anger simmering in his belly.

“Isn’t that what you are?” you giggle.

His world stops.

“Huh?”

You tense at his tenseness. Only when he’s gaping at you does the weight of your words dawn on you. “…Huh?”

The awkward moment goes as quickly as it arrives, chased out by the fit of laughter the two of you are quickly thrown into. Your entwining chuckles rise like smoke in his tiny bedroom and then settle back over you like a fuzzy blanket.

“Are you asking me to be your boyfriend, babe?” Eddie teases.

“Of course not,” you scoff. “Babe.”

“Oh, right, of course not. That would be way too crazy considering we’ve spent, like, every day together and have made each other come… what is it now? Twice?”

“Three times for me,” you correct with you a smile. “You need to catch up, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Another time?” he offers with a scrunched nose.

“Whenever you want.”

Eddie is grateful for your lack of urgency, even more so for the kiss you press to the tip of his nose. 

You peck him on the lips after — once, twice, and then a thiiird, drawn out time — before moving on to his chin and jaw and neck. Whatever part of him you can reach (which is just about everywhere, considering the vantage point you’ve got sitting on his lap), you sprinkle a kiss to it.

It’s an innocent sort of affection, the kind that makes him wonder how it ever came to be in the first place. What evolutionary measures led to this, to you pressing your lips to his skin to show how much you care about him? Eddie doesn’t really want to know the answer, he’s just grateful that it happened in the first place.

You’re so good at it, loving on him. You’re always so kind and so gentle in your way and it makes him feel guilty. There’s a lingering feeling of undeservedness that settles something heavy at the base of his stomach. How could he ever expect you to be so open with him when he hasn’t done the same for you?

A heavy sigh rattles in his deflating chest. 

“I gotta tell you something, sweetheart,” he cautions when your lips smack against the thrumming pulse below the left side of his jaw. “Something you’re not gonna like…”

A billion things run through your head all at once. When you part from him, he can see the rollercoaster of emotions each one of them puts you through.

Your first instinct is that he’s got some kind of partner he’s kept hidden from you until now. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve gone steady with a guy who’s then told you about some other girlfriend he had — or, god forbid, a wife. 

But then you realize that you surely would’ve had some sort of inkling if that were the case. There’s no way Eddie would’ve been able to spend every second of his day with you — and then another several hours on the phone when you had to leave — without someone else coming along to burst your bubble. 

And so far, there haven’t been any angry wives, just the occasionally confused Uncle Wayne.

Then you start thinking he’s about to tell you he wants an open relationship. The you’re great, but I’m just not ready to settle down yet spiel that you’ve heard a thousand times before. Usually when people say that, they mean that they just don’t want to settle down with you.

You’ll become some douchebag’s fuck toy for a month or more until the girl next door comes around. He gets her knocked up in record time, his family forces him to marry her, and they begin their cushy lives together in the center of some cul-de-sac — really settle down, as it were.

You’re not sure if you could take that from Eddie. You could grin and bear if it you had to, take whatever attention he’s willing to give you because who cares if he’s giving it to someone else on the side? You’re just not sure how long you’d last like that.

And then you start to worry that he’s just going to break up with you entirely — it’s not you, it’s blah, I’ll always care about blah, please don’t tell anyone about how we blah-ed. That whole talk. 

All the rest of your worries stop mattering so much because you’ve only just called him your boyfriend. And here he goes, about to end it all before it can really even start. That’d be just your luck, you figure.

“Did I do something wrong?” you caution after a few moments of heavy silence.

Eddie’s bleeding heart wrenches at your words, at how sad they sound spilling from your mouth, and how you immediately think that it’s got something to do with you. 

He shakes his head feverishly in response. “No. No, it’s not you. You’re… you’re perfect.”

“Okay…” you concede quietly, voice trembling with a lingering disbelief.

“I just… I haven’t been totally honest with you, you know?” the boy admits before his glimmering chocolate eyes fly open and he corrects himself quickly. “And I haven’t lied to you or anything. Not— Not exactly. I just… I wanna be honest with you… As your boyfriend and all.”

You can tell by the sudden weight in his voice that he’s serious. But the fine coat of glowing rose that splotches Eddie’s cheeks after calling himself your boyfriend for the first time makes you melt. 

You smile to yourself and start to trace the heart you’d stitched into his t-shirt with your finger.

“Yeah. I mean, we are about to spend our two minutes anniversary together and everything.”

“Exactly,” the boy huffs out a laugh. It lacks its usual jest, though, because of the ice-cold anxiety that drenches him from head to toe and makes his hands and feet go numb.

His fingers tremble where the rest on your waist, trying and failing to find a comfortable position there because, right about now, Eddie feels the most awkward he’s ever felt.

“I just want you to know that I… I’ve never done this before,” he confesses quietly and with his eyes squeezed shut. He prays that he doesn’t have to be any less vague than that.

Your face twists in confusion — your brows furrow and your nose twitches and your head tilts to the side like a puppy. And then you’re laughing, a soft little thing of a giggle that normally makes his heart sing, though now he can only feel it breaking.

“What…?” he tries to scoff out his own chuckle. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’ve already told me that, dummy. That you’ve never felt this way before…” you answer, reciting his own words back to him. You haven’t yet forgotten how he’d looked at you as you said them, pale skin made silk under the moonlight while he sparkled beneath the beams of it and his love for you. 

“No, it’s… it’s more than that,” he corrects. “I’ve never even had a girlfriend before you. Or anything really.”

You still don’t seem to understand. You just look on at him with uncertainty. 

A quiet “okay?” tumbles from your mouth entwined with a nervous giggle, because you don’t understand what’s got him so somber. He’s never dated anyone, you’ve fucked half of Hawkins — these are just facts that went unsaid before now. 

And maybe it’s because you’ve never been with a virgin before, but the thought that Eddie might be one hasn’t seemed to cross your mind at all. 

It’s that exact thought that scares him. 

Because if it hasn’t already, maybe it’s because you’re avoiding it altogether. And why would he ever be the exception?

He opts to bite the bullet and hopes that his heart doesn’t get broken after.

“I’m a virgin. Okay? I’m a complete, total, proper adult virgin,” he blurts with a brazenness he’d previously lacked when it came to all this. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before now, but I didn’t, because I liked you and I was scared. So if you wanna yell at me or if you wanna break up with me before our five-minute anniversary, I totally get it, but I should probably let you know that it’ll rip my little virgin heart to shreds, so…”

Eddie ends his nervous ramble with a trembling, lopsided smile that does little to ease the leaden tension he’s just manufactured in the four walls of his bedroom.

He can’t seem to gauge your reaction after the fact, which is strange because he always knows what you’re thinking. 

He knows when you’re laughing with him and not at him. You scrunch your nose and giggle when he tells you a funny joke, then tilt your head back and cackle when he trips over the punchline. 

He knows the exact moment when something’s started to bother you — when you get real quiet in your bubble of reserved stillness and your eyes start to glaze over. To anyone else, it might just look like a person who’s keeping to themselves. Eddie’s starting to learn that usually means trouble when it comes to you.

He knows the difference between your gentle sort of sadness and when you’re damn near inconsolable. When you cried at the end of Stand By Me, you smiled at him with a glassy tear-filled gaze, then rolled your eyes when he tried to comfort you. The tears only spilled over when you laughed because Eddie pretended you’d hurt him when you’d shoved him away. 

But when you’re really upset about something, you don’t show him at all — you fight to keep it all to yourself until you’ve squished the problem into a tiny enough ball that you can forget about all of it.

This is something different.

There’s too much crossing your mind all at once for him to get a good read of you.

You just gape at him, like you’re trying to figure out if he’s joking or not, and then fighting to understand what it means when you realize he’s being serious. 

And just when you’ve started to wrap your head around it all, when your brain remembers how to make words again and you realize you haven’t said anything in several agonizing seconds, a foreign voice sounds from down the hallway.

Not foreign in that it was unfamiliar exactly, just foreign in that you and Eddie had spent so much time alone that you were starting to forget that there was an entire world outside of yourselves. A great big world, filled with a great many people, some of whom were your friends who tended to get pretty worried about you.

“Edward Wayne— why the hell is the Chief in my driveway?” his uncle curses from the living room, sounding like he’s speaking through a cigarette in his mouth.

Eddie himself is immediately freaking the fuck out because he figures he must’ve gotten tipped off again. He tries to calculate the quickest way to get you off of him and to all of his cubby holes full of miscellaneous drugs so he can flush them down the toilet before Jim Hopper busts the door down.

And even though you’re not the drug dealer who’s had cops on their ass since they were fifteen in this equation, you look a whole lot more terrified than Eddie does.

Your eyes go wide and the whites of them swim with terror as you launch yourself off of his lap. You don’t spare another glance back at him, not even when you nearly trip over yourself when you shove your sneakers on your feet and shuffle out of the room. He’s forced to follow behind you like a confused puppy as you bound through the trailer at lightning speed. 

The haste of your movements startles even Wayne, who halts mid-puff of his cig when you’re in and out of the living room before he can blink. The opening squeak of the screen door and metal slamming against metal is the only thing that punctuates your exit.

“Would it kill you to answer your damn phone every once in a while?” the powerful timbre of Jim Hopper’s angry voice, of which only the man himself could pull off, is muffled until Eddie cautiously slinks onto the porch behind you. 

He finds the chief standing beside the Cruiser he’s parked sideways. The door of it is still flung open. A distant beeping sounds from the ignition. 

He’s still got on the pressed khakis of his uniform — complete with the golden badge pinned to his chest, darkened sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, and flat-brimmed hat on his head. Even with the majority of his face covered, it does little to hide the anger that radiates off of him like a hot stove eye.

You remain on the porch, shifting your weight on your feet at the top of the steps. “Okay, Hopper, just listen to me for a second—”

“Three days!” he shouts over you, not deterred by your composed nature. “I have been calling you… for three days! Seventy-two hours. No answer!”

Eddie decides to speak up from behind you despite his better judgment. “Yeah, uh, that was kinda my fault,” he confesses with an awkward laugh. “Wouldn’t let her hang up the phone—”

“I’ll deal with you in a second,” Jim interjects firmly and without thinking. He goes back to berating you with an admirable finesse. “Buckley wanted my head on a pike when I wouldn’t file a missing person’s report in the first twenty-four hours, but seventy-two? She was gonna kill me!”

Rather than argue with him, like every fiber of your being so desperately wants to, you make the difficult choice to concede with a heavy sigh. Because you don’t doubt that Robin was on his ass the second she realized you weren’t answering your phone or at your apartment when she and Steve dropped by.

She did tend to be on the overprotective side, after all, which obviously paired well with her melodramatic disposition.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’ve just been… busy.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the one before,” the man answers bitterly.

“It’s different, Hopper!”

“I’ve heard the one before, too!”

Eddie can only assume that the both of you are communicating telepathically, what with the way your synchronized glares seem to say a thousand words (probably every curse imaginable, if he had to guess) without your mouths ever moving once. 

He stands on the outskirts of it all, feeling a bit stuck in the thorniness of such a tense silence, like any slight movement might cut him.

Jim moves slowly, akin to a creeping snake, as his hands raise to remove the glasses from his face. Their lack reveals the ice-cold glare that was previously hiding beneath them.

“Get in the car—” 

“—No,” you reject just as the direction leaves his mouth because you knew it was coming.

Jim inhales sharply and smacks his lips against his teeth, like a father whose child is most ardently testing his patience. He plants his work boot in the gravel and his hand on his hips. His steel gaze goes far off for a moment before flitting back to you again.

“…Get in the car or I put you in handcuffs.”

Your breath hitches at the threat. You squint over at him. “You wouldn’t.”

Jim smiles at you, but it’s more threatening than anything else. “We both know that I would.”

Eddie’s eyes flit between the both of you. He can tell that Hopper’s serious and that you’re trying to decide whether or not to call his bluff, with your arms crossed defensively over your chest and lips pursed in a tight line.

You ultimately decide not to. Because Hopper has, in fact, done that before. And even though the circumstances are very, very different, you wouldn’t put it past him to do it again. So you all but stomp your foot like a protesting child and spin on your heel to storm back inside the trailer.

Eddie’s nervous gaze flits between your disappearing form and the storm cloud of a police chief standing in his driveway. When their eyes lock, he realizes he should probably say something. He cocks his thumb over his shoulder and stammers, “I should— I should probably…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. He catches the front door before it shuts and slithers through the crack of it to follow in behind you.

“Wait, was he— was he being serious about that?” Eddie wonders once you’re back in his bedroom.

It feels a lot less cozy than it did minutes before, less like the bubble of refuge that you thought nobody could pierce and more like a lonely space that feels entirely too empty. You pluck your things scattered around his room, and it starts to feel less and less like home with parts of you gone from it.

“I don’t know,” you answer within a sigh as you collect your cardigan from the back of his desk chair and shrug the thing back over your shoulders again.

“But it’s happened before?”

“Yeah. Once. When I was…” you confess quietly, then trail off. You get your bag from his nightstand and haphazardly shove your scrunchie, sunglasses, and chapstick into the bottom of it. “…When I was in a bad way— it doesn’t matter now.”

Eddie so desperately wants to pry.

He’d wanted to make a joke before, about the handcuffs — something less than tasteful about them and you and Hopper and some good ol’ freaky deaky that you'd scold him for after. But he decides not to now because you sound so strangely solemn about the whole thing, as though it was a story you buried deep with the intent of never bringing it up again.

“You don’t have to go with him if you don’t want to, you know that, right?”

“Of course, I do,” you scoff at his worries, not nearly as threatened by Jim as the rest of Hawkins. You move to stand in front of him in the center of his room and meet his furrowed brows with a soft grin. “He’s not gonna do anything, he’s just pissed. He’ll berate me on the drive back to my apartment and then it’ll be like nothing ever happened.”

That seems to please Eddie well enough, though he’s still a bit disheartened at your leaving.

“I guess we couldn’t keep spending time together like this, huh?” he teases lightly, like the realization of it doesn’t make his chest ache. “Sorta forgot about the rest of the world… whatever that is.”

“It was fun while it lasted,” you tell him with a shrug and a whimsical sigh.

“Wait for me, will ya?” he jokes, if only to make you laugh and to feel like he’s stuck in some sickly sweet ending of a romcom for a couple moments more. 

You roll your eyes at his dramatics but let him wrap you in his arms anyway. His hands find purchase on your elbows, thumbs rubbing soothingly along the outsides of them. “How about a kiss, then?” he offers when the urge to feel you because too great to bear. “For our ten-minute anniversary and all?”

“You never have to ask me, Eds,” you assure with a laugh. You rise to the tips of your toes and he meets you halfway. 

Home is in your mouth. It’s warm and cozy and safe there. It’s easily the most familiar place he’s ever known, with your bottom lip nestled between his own. He feels homesick when you part from him. 

“You’re not mad at me?” he wonders quietly, feeling a bit like a cowering child from where he stands in front ahead of you — eased only when you shake your head almost immediately in response.

“No. I couldn’t be even if I wanted to, I think.”

“Okay. That’s… That’s good.”

“We can talk about it later, if you want. After I get lurch off my ass.”

He tries not to smile too wide, but it’s hard not to beam every time he looks at you. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll… I’ll see you around, I guess?” he stumbles over himself, having forgotten how to say goodbye to you. 

It’s equally as hard for you too, it seems, because you nod at him and turn to leave and then realize once you’re halfway down the hallway that you might not survive if you don’t kiss him again. 

So you turn and rush back, catching Eddie with his back turned and spinning him around so you can peck him again. You feel his cheeks heat beneath your palm and his sigh against your cupid’s bow and his lips melt against your own.

You etch each tingling sensation into the edges of your mind in the hope that you won’t drive yourself completely insane when you inevitably start to miss him like crazy. 

You focus on that and on him when you find Hopper and his stupid proud dad smirk. It’s the only reason you don’t punch him in the jaw and tuck and roll out of the Cruiser when the silence becomes so slowly insufferable.

You’re starting to think Jim left the radio off on purpose. You’ve never known the guy not to drive around without the strumming of an old-school folk song to accompany him. You figure it must be some sort of intimidation tactic, to make you so uncomfortable that you break. You’re a lot closer to that than either of you realize.

You spare a glance over at the man next to you. He hasn’t looked at you once since you get in the car. He’s got one hand at three o’clock on the steering wheel and the other with its elbow propped up on the door as he scratches at the stubble on his jaw. 

He’s too at ease not to be bothered. This is obviously some kind of front he’s putting on to conceal his inner irritation.

You give on the lecture you’d been trying to prepare yourself for and exhale sharply through your nose. Your fingers fidget on your thighs as you kick your restless feet up on the console. 

“Get your feet off the dash,” Jim scolds without missing a beat. 

You huff and obey. “Okay, this is crazy— can’t you just yell at me already?”

He barely wastes a second.

“I cannot believe you right now!” he seethes through gritted teeth, stewing in a dad-like sort of anger.

“It was three days, Hopper!”

“You know what happened the last time no one heard from you for three days?” he shouts back. 

You tip your head back against the seat and groan. You should’ve known he was going to play that card. 

He waves an accusatory finger between the both of you. “You and me— we had a deal, remember? You let me check in on you. You agreed to that. You visit your little high school friends, and I see you at work, so I can make sure you’re not off somewhere killing yourself.”

Hopper becomes a casualty to the tense silence he created then, when you don’t retort with some comeback of your own and force him to feel every ounce of pressure from the leaden quiet. 

He sighs a great big, too loud sigh and shifts in his seat. His softening gaze flits between you and the road. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean it like that, okay? I just meant it, you know, figuratively. I wasn’t… trying to be mean.”

“When have you ever cared about being mean?” you monotone.

“I don’t,” he assures. “I’m just not trying to hurt your feelings, alright? Jeez…”

You try not to take too much pride in the man’s half-apology, though you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little bit rewarding.

Jim Hopper’s practically an iceberg. He only melts for his kid, Joyce Boyers, and you, apparently. 

It’s why he’s always so damn protective over you. He’s developed this sort of deep-rooted urge to keep you safe after watching you make every wrong decision a human being could possibly make. And when you mess up, because you do mess up, he feels like it’s partially his fault — that, if he’d done more, he could’ve kept you safer. 

It makes you feel like a burden most of the time, but you know it’s above yourself and mostly out of your control.

You’d known of each other for a while before you really met, because a troublemaker and police chief in such a small town are bound to. But somewhere down the line, he found you in a valley of mourning for someone that was still alive and you found him in a black hole of grief for someone who wasn’t. The empty and infinite voids within you both were stitched slowly together all over again. 

Jim Hopper was the dad you never had. You were the daughter he couldn’t.

And you thought something might change after he adopted El. You figured he might forget about you because it wasn’t like it was his job to watch after you or anything. Playing pretend always felt nice, but you knew it wasn’t real. 

It was to Jim, though, who’d developed a similar adoration for you as the one he had for Sara. He hasn’t been able to forget about you in the same way he hasn’t been able to forget about her. 

Every night, after he’s scrubbed the day off his body and washed it all down with a lukewarm beer, he lays on his pull-out bed in the small living room of his cabin and goes through a checklist in his head. 

He makes sure that he’s checked on El and reminds himself to wake up early to make her breakfast the next morning before he brings Joyce coffee at Melvald’s — Joyce. She always comes next on his list, always right after El, and then you. 

He forces himself to calm down when his blood pressure inevitably spikes at the thought of not having heard from you all day. He reminds himself that he saw you at work on his lunch break and that he’ll see you again tomorrow.

Jim hums to himself as he settles more comfortably into his springy cot, deciding that he’ll try a new wine he can’t pronounce when he sees you at Enzo’s the next day and that he’ll drink it while he rambles about Joyce or El’s new boyfriend.

He drifts to sleep with thoughts of Sara.

You’re as ingrained into his mind as every other person he’s grown to love.

He stopped worrying about never getting you out a long time ago. Like a tomato sauce stain on a dress shirt, he knows he’ll never get you out of his head. He knows even more so that he doesn’t want to — no matter how much you annoy him or how angry you make him when you don’t answer his calls.

“Sorry…” you murmur and swallow down whatever mundane argument you could’ve spewed then, at the result of his sudden warmth. You turn to gaze out the window and trace the edges of the puffy white clouds with your eyes. “I wasn’t thinking about that — the… deal, or whatever… Honestly, I was a little too busy being happier than I think I’ve ever been in my life, so…”

You don’t see the dramatic eye roll he gives you in response, but you can’t miss the hearty groan that spills from his mouth. 

“What?” you laugh in response. “Have you never been a kid in love before?”

It’s almost jarring how he goes from huffy to concerned in a fraction of a second. His head snaps over to you, jaw clenched and eyes suddenly stern and swimming with a lingering fear. 

“Love?” he repeats like he must’ve heard you wrong. “Love— That’s— That’s what this is?”

You shrug. “I don’t know… Maybe…”

His eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Please don’t tell me you’ve said that to each other yet. This guy was just a crush four days ago.”

“No, Hopper. We haven’t. I mean, he literally just told me he was a virgin, so I don’t think we’re even close to—”

“A virgin?” Jim echoes, voice high-pitched and giddy. He beams at you from beneath his bushy mustache and slaps you a little too hard on your arm when he laughs. “Shit, teacup. Are you runnin’ out of options over there or somethin’?”

You twist your body to hit him back harder with your right hand. “It’s not funny, Hopper,” you scold. “He’s nice.”

“You said that about Hargrove once—”

“This is different,” you monotone before the words have the chance to leave his mouth.

“Yeah? How do you know?”

The question stumps you for a moment because you don’t know — you can’t.

You’d never admit it out loud, but Hopper was right; you’re still not quite sure how you ever could’ve thought that Billy Hargrove was a good guy, but you did. You felt a similar feeling of elation with him as you do now with Eddie, an otherworldly sort of happiness that makes you feel like you’re the only person it’s ever happened to.

And here you are now, sometime later and reveling in the aftermath, still gluing pieces of your shattered heart together.

You treat love like a drug. You use and use and use until it stops being a fun thing and becomes a crutch you can’t live without. That’s always when it starts to hurt you, but you’re in too deep to stop craving it.

And you know it’s bound to happen all over again, but you have to believe Eddie’s different or else you might as well fall into the deep pit of despair you’ve been trying this whole time to crawl out of. 

He makes you happy, really really happy, and you’d rather gamble that he hurts you than give it all without even trying.

“I… don’t,” you conclude after a few moments.

Jim seems surprised by your admission, shooting you an incredulous look with his untamed brows raised to his hairline.

You meet his look with a wavering grin. “But he makes me really happy, Hop. Like… It feels like it should be illegal or something. He makes me feel so good my heart hurts. There’s like this—”

“Ugh,” the man grumbles in disgust, sullen all over again.

“I didn’t mean it like that, you weirdo,” you chide.

A grin twitches beneath his mustache in response. “I know you didn’t… ‘Cause Munson’s a virgin.”

“Oh my god!” you groan. “I didn’t even mean to tell you that, okay? Leave him alone— and a swear to god, Hopper, if you make fun of him—”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with it, alright? I mean, he’s got the expert around to show him the ropes— ow!” You cut off his stupid joke and accompanying sardonic grin with a fist to his shoulder.

Steve and Robin tend to be quite the formidable duo.

They’ve barely got a brain cell to rub together between them, but there’s still something strangely intimidating about them when they’re both angry. It feels a bit like they’re your I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed parents, and you’re the scolded child taking your lashings in the form of a lecture.

It’s what you feel like now, sitting across from them in your designated booth at Benny’s Burgers — the one by the window in the corner. It’s far enough away from the bustle of the entrance but close enough still to gossip about the assholes you used to know from high school when they walk through the door. 

“You scare the shit out of us when you go AWOL like that, you know?” Steve confesses, still soft even though you know there’s a more upset part of himself he keeps hidden for now.

His chocolate gaze flits between you and the pile of fries in the middle of the table that the three of you share. He finds the one covered in the most salt and pops it into his mouth.

“AWOL?” you echo with a distant laugh when you realize how much he sounds like Hopper. “It was three days.”

“Yeah, and you fell off the face of the earth,” Robin retorts, half-muffled through the hearty gulp of strawberry milkshake starting to melt in her mouth.

“You guys are acting like I went halfway across the country,” you scoff. “I was with Eddie. At his trailer.”

“Exactly!”

Steve’s face contorts mid-bite. “Wait, you were with him? The freak?”

It makes you roll your eyes. He’d been too busy hopelessly flirting with the waitress at the counter to hear the entire recounting of your absence to Robin, though it was more of you gushing about it than anything else.

“Yep,” you answer.

“You skipped out on movie night to be with… Eddie Munson?” he reiterates for himself, as though there was any correlation between watching the same three movies while gorging on greasy junk food with your best friends and falling more in love with a guy you were already head over heels for as he tried to explain away the unopened box of condoms collecting dust underneath his bed.

Both are equally fun in their own ways, but totally totally different.

“How did you survive without me, Steven?” you joke back in response.

“He didn’t,” Robin quips.

“So… what? You guys just went on some kinda bender? I don’t get it. Did you just fuck the entire time or something?”

“Well, contrary to popular belief, I can actually spend time with someone and not fuck them—”

“Okay, that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“And to answer your question — no, we didn’t fuck,” you confess, then elaborate more slowly, a tad bit awkwardly. “Because he told me today that… he is a… virgin.”

Your words seem to settle over each of them differently. Robin stills with her lips wrapped around the candy-cane striped straw then furrows her brows, as though their meaning hits her a few seconds after the fact.

Steve, meanwhile, goes entirely agape in an amazed sort of shock. His eyes go wide, his brows fly up and hide beneath the bangs that hang down over his forehead, and his jaw falls open. And then he starts to smile, a subtle hint of a grin on the corners of his pink lips, like he finds it funny.

“I knew it,” he murmurs to himself.

“…Why are you smiling like that?”

His smirk widens. “That freak said he screwed Vicki Carmichael senior year. I knew he was lying.”

“And why do you look so proud of yourself, exactly?” Robin asks him.

“Because now I feel less bad about never fucking her,” the boy explains like it’s obvious. He set his elbows on the table and gestures wildly with his hands. “I always thought the freak one-upped me because she, like, never gave me the time of day after Hargrove came along, you know? But… It’s good to know that I’m still king.”

His delighted grin is met with confused looks from both you and Robin, who look upon him with twisted eyebrows and squinted eyes. 

“Are you not aware of how strange everything that comes out of your mouth is?” you ask him, only partly joking.

“At least that settles why he wouldn’t let you give him a blow job,” the brunette girl concludes with a shrug as she slouches against the booth. “Poor guy was probably shitting bricks about it.”

You realize then that it does make sense, why he’d always been so adamant about your pleasure and never his own. Why he always touched you like you were some fragile thing he might break, and like everything was new to him. Because it was new to him. All of it.

And even though it baffles you to no end how he went his entire life without someone wanting to jump his bones (because truth be told, you’re doing a terrible job at hiding your want to do just that), the fact still remains — Eddie Munson is a virgin. 

He’s a virgin with an acute infatuation for the local slut, both of you freaks in your own right. 

It just adds more intricacy to a puzzle that already feels so complicated.

“I’ve never been with a virgin before,” you admit quietly, mostly to yourself, as you train your gaze on the straw wrapper you curl around your finger. “It’s different… Scary.”

“Why?” Robin wonders aloud.

“I don’t know. I just— I don’t know what to do now.”

“Just do what you always do,” Steve tells you like it’s that simple. He folds his arms on the table and leans in closer to you. “Experience is good. Okay? Experience is key.”

“No, it’s not that. I think I’m just… I’m scared I’m gonna treat him the way, you know, that I was treated. And I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna do that to him.”

You’re not sure when the shift started, when you stopped being a person to people. You only know that you were something less than that. Somewhere between junior and senior year, you become a plaything that anyone could do anything they wanted to with, and you were too starved for physical affection to tell them otherwise. 

You liked the attention. You liked feeling loved, even if it was only for a minute and a half, and all you had to show for it was a pool of cooling come on your belly.

Eddie’s the fragile thing now that you were then. 

He was a delicate little thing that can break so easily, something you could split in half if you wanted to. 

You don’t. 

You want so desperately to be kind, but you’re scared you won’t know how to, because no one’s ever been kind to you.

Steve reaches across the table for you, taking a wild stab at an attempt for affection after several months of being scared to touch you — he did enough of that, he thought, and he’d hurt you. But he can see the lingering ache hiding in your glazed-over eyes and feels an overwhelming urge to quell your worry. 

Five warm fingers wrap around your wrist, not too tight or too strong, just enough to stop you from cutting circulation off to the tip of your pointer finger and to remind you that he’s still there.

“Trust me,” he tells you with a sudden soft swimming in his caramel-colored eyes and a smile playing on his lips. “You couldn’t do that to anybody. Not even if you wanted to.”  

Your heart nearly stops at his words, at the sheer kindness of them, and at the way he holds you in the soft way you’re used to only Eddie holding you. Your eyes go wide when they flit up to him and then start to sting with the weight of unshed tears. 

You’re quick to blink them away though, while you playfully shrug him off and joke — “stop being so nice before I get the wrong idea, Harrington” — because it’s easier than accepting his tenderness.

Robin takes one look at his fond gaze, all gooey and dripping with honey, and then at your rolling eyes and accompanying shy grin, and groans at the softness of it all. She slides out from the confines of the booth and grumbles something about getting a refill on her milkshake.

“Some fries too, while you’re up?” Steve offers with a hopeful grin.

He’s met with the girl’s signature scowl.

“Please,” you finish for him.

Robin grins. “Anything for you,” she croons, if only to make the boy pout, before skipping off to the counter.

She leans her elbows upon the red wooden laminate top and smiles that same sickly sweet smile for Benny by the grill — no doubt trying to get her refills for free. 

Even though the bearded man seems unimpressed with her presence, you know that he’ll give them to her free of charge. He’s always had a soft spot for her, one of the only people in town who could rival his wit.

The door dings open, a familiar and high-pitched chime that often becomes more frequent as the evening progresses. This time it lets in a foreign, bitter breeze when the door swings open and closed again.

You can feel the chill from a distance — it resembles the crispness of autumn despite being comfortably settled in the middle of March. It nearly takes your breath away, prickles your skin and makes you grimace back a shiver. 

When your eyes leave Steve, a difficult feat considering he’s doing an alarmingly good impression of a walrus by sticking fries in his upper lip, you find that it wasn’t abnormally cold air at all. It was a Peter Parker spider sense form of anxiety that had felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over you.

Billy Hargrove used to turn heads when he walked into a room. 

Now he just sucks all the air out of it.

And it’s not like you haven’t seen him since the break up; for a while, the asshole was painted on the backs of your eyelids — he all but haunted your consciousness. You’ll see him around town on occasion, in his sunglasses and jean jacket and too-tight denim pants, while he struts around Main Street with his new girlfriend (otherwise known as, his flavors of the month).

You think this is the first time you’ve been in the same room as him since your split, though. It feels like it must be with the way your throat starts to tighten and you forget how to breathe. 

All at once, you’re scrambling for an exit. It’s like Billy’s a fire and his smoke is rapidly filling your lungs. Your legs start to tremble when your adrenaline spike. Your brain tells you to get out as quickly as you can before he burns you.

Steve notices the look of fear flood your features like a dark storm cloud. You were laughing just seconds before the door opened, equal parts with him and at him, but now you just looked terrified — like a child who’s just spotted a boogeyman in her closet.

He turns in the booth to find what haunted thing has just caught your eye and finds that it’s worse than any monster you could conjure up. It’s Billy fucking Hargrove, with his pretty hair and his pretty smile and his pretty girl under his arm.

His presence filled targeted, almost. Like he chose to come to this diner, on this day and at this time just to fuck with the group of you.

“Don’t even look at him,” Steve advises when he turns back to you. “Look at me, okay? He’s not even worth it. That asshole doesn’t deserve to ruin our day.”

And you try to listen to him. You try really, really hard to let him change that subject to the cold fries or Robin taking too long or a combination of the two, but you can’t focus on him. You’re already so overwhelmed at the sight of Billy that you can’t focus on anything else but him. 

You settle on the fact that you might just have to drag Steve and Robin out by their wrists because you can’t sit in this booth any longer, and you definitely aren’t hungry anymore.

And that’s when he spots you.

Your eyes lock and you freeze, immediately averting your gaze but catching the sudden sparkle in his own as he grins a sly, sadistic grin.

“No way,” you hear him say with a laugh under his breath. The sound of his voice makes you tense. You hadn’t realized how at peace you’d been all this time without having to hear it. Now it feels like so many little needles piercing your skin.

“Fancy seeing you guys here,” he greets after he’s made a b-line for your booth and dragged Vicki Carmichael along with him. He smiles with all of his pearly whites while he smacks pungent wintergreen gum between them. 

When he slides into the booth beside you, he does so without invitation, and forces Vicki to slink in next to Steve.

And like it wasn’t already awkward enough, you know Vicki — like, know her, know her. There was a drunken makeout at a Halloween party in ’82. Then a one night stand with her brother before he left for college in ’83. And then her Tom Selleck clone of a father at a sleepover for her eighteenth birthday in ’85. 

You’re not exactly proud of it, but you’ve gotten a rather hefty taste of her family tree, and the fact that both of you know it makes it that much more uncomfortable.

“We’re kinda busy here, Hargrove,” Steve tells him when he notices how comfortable he’s making himself in your booth.

“Ooh… Is this a little date?” Billy teases with a grin.

Steve’s face falls. “…No.”

“Oh, right,” he nods, though the sardonic lilt in his voice tells you that he already knew the answer. He crosses his arms on the tabletop and turns to look at you with eyes bluer than any ocean. They flicker up and down your form. Suddenly, you feel self-conscious in your baggy jean and tank top duo.

“You’ve been seeing that guy, haven’t you? What’s his name again? The, uh— the freak?”

“His name is Eddie,” Steve answers for you, defending him because you can’t find the words to.

“That’s it,” Billy snaps his fingers, then points. He nudges you with his shoulder. The familiar feel of his jean jacket against your skin makes you wince. “God, you must be runnin’ out of steam over there, huh? I mean… the freak? Seriously? You couldn’t do any better than that?”

The jokes were tolerable coming from Jim and Steve and Robin — they weren’t funny by any means, but you could stomach them because you knew they were jokes. But this? This was just to hurt you. And it works too easily because Billy knows exactly how to break you. He knows all the wires to cut and buttons to push because the puzzle of shattering your psyche is one he memorized long ago.

“He’s actually a really nice guy,” you manage through a tight throat, still staring at your fidgeting hands.

“Well, that’s good,” he hums like you need his approval. “It’s about time, right?”

You huff and choose to entertain him despite your better judgment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He only shrugs. “I don’t know... Just, you know, that found a guy willing to settle for you. That’s all.”

“Settle?” you repeat, trying to laugh despite how tiny your voice sounds.

“You know what I mean, c’mon,” the blonde boy chuckles. “Sluts are fun and all, but they’re not the kinda girls you wanna settle down with. Steve knows what I mean.”

“No, I don’t,” Steve monotones quickly and without thinking, gaze hardened and jaw clenched. “And you need to leave.”

“I”m hungry, Billy,” Vicki whines, feeling every ounce of the tension surrounding her — like syrup or quicksand. She slides her permed bangs from her eyes and tucks a rogue strawberry strand behind her ear in a nervous tick. “Can’t we just get something to eat?”

“Alright, alright. I know when I’m not wanted,” Billy chuckles.

You grumble bitterly under your breath. “Apparently not…”

“I’ll see you around, Harrington,” Billy singsongs with a grin that wreaks of insincerity while his girlfriend slides out from the booth. He turns to look at you and squints. “Don’t be a stranger, alright? Matter of fact, point Munson my way, and I’ll give him a few pointers.”

You’re uncowed by his offer and angered by his mention of Eddie. Your eyes are stern and unwavering as you meet his gaze for the first time since he sat down beside you. 

“I think you could learn a thing or two from him, actually,” you retort, words sounding sweeter than the venom lingering behind them.

Billy’s grin only widens, impressed by your arguing. “Ooh… I forgot about the mouth you had on you, sweetheart.”

The use of the nickname makes you cringe. It doesn’t sound nearly as fulfilling as it does when it comes from Eddie. Now, it just sounds artificial — degrading.

He leans in close to you like he’s about to tell you a secret and splays his arm along the back of the booth behind you. The nicotine on his breath makes you grimace; it’s intoxicating when it comes from Eddie, disgusting from the boy sitting next to you. 

His eyes are bluer so up close, darker than you remember them being, and you notice he’s trimmed his usual stubble to a patchy mustache. He looks like the grown-up version of the boy you used to know, visually more mature but still the same in his way.

“When he gets bored of you — because, let’s be serious, he will get bored of you — you know where to find me,” Billy murmurs to you, a cynical smirk on the edges of his lips. “I’ll make sure you stay nice and broken in for the next dozen guys that want a taste—”

Steve can’t hear a word from where he sits across the booth, but he’s fuming with fists clenched under the table anyway. He hates how close Billy is to you, more so how uncomfortable you look with the proximity and how his words make you flinch. 

“Alright, you need to leave,” he blurts. “Now.”

Before the blonde could respond with a quip of his own, Robin all but teleports to the head of the table. She’s standing in front of the four of you suddenly, carrying a basket of fries and a strawberry milkshake and wearing a frown on her face.

“You’re in my seat, dickwad,” she monotones, even though she hadn’t been sitting next to you before. She’s not the least bit threatened by the Californian douchebag.

Billy smiles up at her anyway. “I was wondering where the third musketeer was! Still a carpet muncher, Buckley?”

“Happily.”

“What do ya say me and you head up to Lover’s Lake later?” the boy offers despite his date shifting awkwardly a few feet away. It’s a joke, for reasons that are more than obvious, and that’s what makes it so unbearably unfunny. 

He slinks out from the booth. The lack of his warmth is strangely comforting and you’re able to breathe for the first time in five minutes. He stretches his back out when he stands to his full height in front of Robin, then shrugs with his hands splayed on his hips.

“Maybe you just need some good dick. I mean… we’re gonna die anyway, right?”

“I’d rather,” she quips with a rouge-tinted smile.

The way it makes him laugh is startling. He finds a strange humor in being rejected — in most things, really. You still haven’t forgotten the cackles that left his bloodied mouth when Steve delivered blow after blow to the boy’s face in the middle of his living room, like it was all a fun game to him.

That was, of course, before Billy got the upper hand and nearly killed Steve that night. He laughed about it that too, until Max knocked him out with a baseball bat.

He’s got the same grin on his face now as he did then when he turns to look at you. A pink and pretty smirk, just wide enough to reveal the dimple in his left cheek. It’s nothing short of taunting, like he’s mocking you without having to say anything at all.

“Don’t be a stranger, alright?” Billy repeats. He keeps smacking his gum between his teeth and winks at you before spinning on the heel of his boot. He guides Vicki with him to the counter with a hand on the back pocket of her jeans.

Even when Robin slides in next to you and effectively pierces the bubble of tension that had already started to shrink with Billy’s leaving, you still find it hard to breathe. You have to keep reminding yourself, forcing oxygen in and out with wobbling breaths through your nose, or else you just stop altogether.

The other two move on rather quickly, having no trouble finding their voices again after he’s gone. Their words are muffled, though, like they’re underwater.

“I forgot what an asshole he was,” Robin grumbles.

“Well, I didn’t,” Steve retorts, eyes scanning the basket of fries for the most strategic pick of the bunch. “I can still barely breathe through my nose.”

“That’s because you didn’t go to a doctor, dingus.”

“Because I didn’t need a doctor, Robin.”

“Yeah, because being concussed three times in two years is so healthy—”

Your eyes act like magnets as they stay locked on Billy’s form. He leans in closer to Vicki to tell her something, then pats her once on the ass before walking towards the exit again. The door dings when he swings it open. Through the window, you catch him pulling out a red and white pack of cigarettes — the same brand of Marlboro Reds he’s been smoking since he was in middle school.

“You okay?” you hear Steve say, but it sounds too far away for you to realize he’s talking to you.

Robin nudges you with her shoulder to jog you from your stupor. You blink hard once and then turn to her with wide eyes. “What?”

“You doing alright over there?” the girl wonders.

“Yeah,” your answer is too quick and too high-pitched to be true. “Fine.”

“Like, fine as in you’re actually fine, or fine as in, if I leave you alone for too long, I’m gonna find you living under a bridge like a troll?”

You roll your eyes at her. “Fine as in, if someone bums me a cigarette, I’ll be good as new.”

Steve huffs when you hold out the palm of your hand toward him. He’s the only one of you who smokes recreationally enough to carry a lighter and pack of cigs with him. You swear he only keeps it with him because the weight of them makes him feel cool. You’re grateful for them now, though, and for the escape they unexpectedly provide you.

His fingers are warm when they brush your hand. The metal zippo he drops in the center of it is far colder and carries a comforting sort of weight to it. He thumbs a cigarette from the pack for you, and you take it with a sardonic smile and a sickly sweet “thank you, Stevie.” 

Robin gets out of the booth to let you slide out of it.

The door chimes again, this time over your head when you open it. 

Fresh, spring air nearly knocks you on your ass when it hits you for the first time. You realize then, that you’d forgotten to tell yourself to breathe and now your vision’s all swimmy. The cool breeze tries its hardest to quell your swelling anger, but you’re still at a simmering boil. Fists clenched over the lighter and cig duo in your palm and your sneakers slapping angrily against the cracked pavement.

That’s what signals your arrival, the raging stomps that echo in the alleyway Billy takes his smoke break in. 

The boy takes a puff of his cigarette and smirks on the exhale at the sight of you. All he needs is one glance to see how angry he’s made you. It’s an innocent, childlike sort of rage that’s got you all scrunched face and red — a heartbroken girl on a war path.

“I knew you couldn’t resist me, sweetheart,” he taunts with his signature sarcastic smile. He holds his arms at his sides, like he’s waiting for some kind of embrace from you. “You used to be like that all the time — all over me, you know? Clingy.”

“You know what you used to be?” you ask him once you’ve planted yourself a few feet away from him, fists shaking at your sides in a nearly overwhelming mixture of rage and apprehension.

“What’s that?”

“Nice! You used to be nice! Or do you not remember that?” you wonder rhetorically. Your anger fades slowly, an ebbing tide, as a reminiscent sadness eclipses your fury — a flood of blue in all your red. 

The sharp frown between your brows crumbles and so does your clenched jaw as your harsh features crumple like a balled-up piece of paper. You look upon the man that broke your heart with all the shattered pieces of it.

“You used to let me sleep over at your place when I was too scared to sleep alone at mine, and you’d bring me food when I told you I hadn’t eaten all day, and you’d take me on drives when you knew I hadn’t left my apartment in days,” you ramble in a single breath, gesticulating wildly with your hands — waving them at him and at you and the still air between. They fall hopelessly to your sides. 

“You used to be so sweet, Billy…” you conclude with a wavering breath. Your chest trembles on the inhale as you straighten out your shoulders and lift your chin, trying your best not to look as defeated as you feel. “And you know what you are now?”

Billy grins that stupid grin at you, the one that almost looks kind. Almost. It’s still soft in all its insincerity, like a parent entertaining their kid that’s gone on some meaningless tangent.

“No, sweetheart,” he answers after a beat. “What am I?”

“Not nice.”

He scoffs out a laugh.

“You used to tell me, all the time, how scared you were about ending up like you’re dad—” he tenses at the mention of the man, of his own monster in his own closet. “—He’d beat you black and blue every night, and I’d bandage all your cuts and put makeup on you when you begged, so you could go out and pretend like everything was normal. And you know what? You’re just like him!”

Billy doesn’t cower when you walk closer to him. He’s got no reason to be afraid of you, but your words hit him in a place far deeper than a thousand bloodied fists.

“What he did to you, is exactly what you do to me… Or do you know see that?” you don’t wait for a sarcastic reply, mostly because you wouldn’t see the indicators of it through the tears that blur your vision. “You’re not punching me, but it feels like you are. You break me over and over and over and I have to pretend like everything’s just normal and that we—”

“Real mature of you. To bring out the dad-card,” he interjects, if only to stop your ramblings so that he might not have to hear the truth that comes with them.

“You used to he nice,” you repeat, you agonize, you deflate. “Or… Or did you never use to be?”

The shell of your mind answers for you, paints itself with all the memories you’ve been trying like hell to forget for the past six months. It’s easier to pretend the bad things aren’t real than unravel all the reasons why they were bad to begin with, you find.

The negative memories come together like renaissance paintings — dark and gloomy and blotted with too realistic tears and spatters of blood. The oil stains the backs of your eyelids, destined to remain there forever like paintings in museum that’ll stand the test of time if you nurse them well enough.

You hadn’t yet been able to forget the screams and the cracks of fists colliding with bone. They tend to keep you up at night, even when you squeeze your eyes shut and beg for your memory to be wiped away completely. 

Billy crouches over Steve’s chest and pummels wholehearted punches to the boy’s face, never tiring in their force, even well after the boy goes limp underneath him. You beg for him to stop while trying like hell to shield Max from the sight of it all. 

For a while, you’d blamed yourself for it — for Max being there in the first place and for Steve’s cuts and bruises. 

You’d taken the girl and sought refuge in the Harrington home after witnessing a rather heated fight between Billy and his father. There was a sudden urge within you to take her far away from it before it ended how it always did — in weeping cuts and salty tears and insincere apologies when the cops were called.

But you made it worse anyway. 

For Max, for Steve. 

And you apologized profusely for it after, cried to the boy in his bathroom while you nursed his cuts like you were the one who put them there. 

When he told you it wasn’t your fault, you didn’t believe him. Not until now. Not until you realized that Billy had always been angry — always raging with an ocean of fear and grief and violence.

When he fought with his sister, you thought it was normal, that that’s just what siblings did. But the way she cried to you after couldn’t have been normal. Neither could the unearthly fury that washed over Billy like a riptide when he found out you and Max had sought safety in Steve The Hair Harrington — angered that it was Steve and that he couldn’t be that for the both of you.

And then there was the fights. The yelling and screaming and crying fights that felt like the end of the world every single time. The kind of fights you shouldn’t be having when you’re eighteen. You thought that maybe there was some normalcy in the cheating and the secrecy and Billy’s accompanying assholery because that was all you’d ever known.

Or maybe because you had to tell yourself that was normal in relationships because you didn’t want your’s to end. Billy was the first guy to give a damn about you in ways that went beyond just sex. How were you supposed to just give that up?

But then there’s Eddie — Eddie The Freak Munson, who was really just sunshine wrapped up in leather jackets and wild hair and chunky rings and metal music. He makes you happy. The sort of happy that makes you suspicious because something bad has to counteract all the goodness he makes you feel. 

Maybe that’s what this was. 

Seeing Billy after having wrapped yourself in a blanket of Eddie’s warmth made you see somehow more clearly. He loves on you so much that it’s made a mockery of everything else. 

Whatever you had with Billy wasn’t normal, it was a goddamn shit show. He loved you when it was convenient and then had you believing it was the real thing, that you wouldn’t find it anywhere else, when you tried to leave him. 

It was a lie, all of it.

The realization makes you falter.

“Oh, god…” you sigh, voice fragile like cracking glass. “Maybe you never used to be…”

For the first time ever, you see Billy’s grin shake. The edges of it flitter, like he’s fighting to keep the corners quirked up. And his eyes have gone a lighter shade of blue, the way they always did when he blinked back angry tears as he talked about his father.

It isn’t rage glassing his eyes now. It’s something sadder, but still as real — something you never got from him in the two years you were together.

He tries, still, to cover it all up. He smacks his lips against his teeth, sympathetically. “Sorry it took you this long to figure that out.”

The laugh you exhale then is heavy with sadness. Your smile is far away and so is your gaze as you stumble back from him. You turn your head to the edge of the alley where mom’s with strollers and people in fancy suits bustle on the sidewalk and keep your eyes on the strangers that whiz by you’ll probably never see again. 

“This is… This is pointless,” you murmur. His lean form is blurry through the burning tears you blink away. “Every time I see you, it’s just more bullshit so let’s just— let’s just leave each other alone, okay?”

Billy takes a puff from his cigarette. When he sighs, white smoke billows from his plump, pink lips. “That’s a shame… I was just thinking that you were the most interesting you’d ever been.”

The ebbing tide that had just left you rushes back in a bubbling scarlet wave. His words don’t make you sad anymore, they just make you angry all over again because you know you don’t deserve them. And you’re not entirely sure why he’s chosen you to antagonize out of all the other girls who’d made the mistake of falling for him, but you’re too far past the point of not caring to ask.

“Bother me again and I tell Chief Hopper,” you threaten even though you don’t feel very threatening just now. “I know you’re not scared of me, but you’d be stupid to be scared of him.”

“Why’s that?” he wonders before sticking the half-gone stick between his lips again.

“Because he runs Hawkins. And he fucking hates you—” for what you did to me, you almost say. You swallow the words down like bile before they have the chance to spew out. “And… And be nice to Vicki. Okay? She’s too good for you. Don’t do to her what you did to me.”

Your plea for another is the last thing you say to Billy before you turn away from him. You wouldn’t be upset if it was the last thing you ever said to him. You’re grateful for the resounding silence that follows. It’s nothing but the sound of your receding footsteps and the soles of his shoes scrapping the concrete as he snuffs out his cigarette. 

There is no snarky remark or insincere plea — just two people who used to love each other that have no idea to exist together anymore. 

When you step outside the brick confines of the alleyway, you feel as though a fraying string that had always connected the both of you had been finally cut.

It allows you to take a deep breath in for the first time in months. A lungful of fresh air that cleanses you, body and mind.

And when you catch Steve and Robin idling at the corner and doing a terrible job of pretending like they hadn’t just been eavesdropping, you don’t get upset or angry with them — you don’t feel much of anything, really.

You just hand the boy his lighter and unused cigarette and let them comfort you on the drive back to your apartment.

A misery sandwich. That’s what Robin calls the three of you and the heaping pile you lay in. 

Your queen-sized bed is in no way meant to accomodate three moderately sized adults, but you make it work anyway, like you always do.

Steve lays on his back, legs crossed and hands tucked under his head. Robin is on her stomach on the other end of the mattress, arms wrapped around the pillow she smushes the side of her face into. You lay between the both of them — on the both of them. Sprawled out sideways, you’ve got your head on propped up on Steve’s ribcage and your legs thrown over Robin’s thighs. 

The awkward position is the most comfortable you’ve ever been.

“I can’t believe that asshole had the nerve to show up to the diner on our day,” the boy rants. “And then sit in our booth, I mean— who does he think he is?”

Robin’s response is mostly muffled by the pillow. “I thought he left, like, forever ago.” 

“Maybe he just couldn’t stay away. It’s Hawkins, shit attracts shit, right?” Steve answers with a shrug that jostles your head slightly. It doesn’t little to knock you from your stupor, though, where you’ve been stuck for the better part of the day. You pick at the skin around your nails with little regard for how red and raging it's gone.

He notices this and thumps you on your temple — hard enough for you to feel it, gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt you. 

You turn your chin to your shoulder to look over at him. He tilts his own head to stare down at you, honey-tinted gaze somehow stern and soft at the same time. “If he bothers you again, I’ll kill him.”

You’re instantly warmed by his protective disposition. You know that he cares about you, even though you like to joke that he doesn’t. Steve hurt you once, made a promise to himself to make it up to you, and then just never left you alone. 

You’re grateful for it. 

You’re not sure who’d be the butt of every joke if he wasn’t around.

“Good to know,” you answer, nodding against his side and trying to hide the smile he gives you. You fail. “You think if he breaks your nose again, it’ll pop back into place?”

His face falls. “You’re real sweet, you know that?”

You open your mouth to respond, something along the lines of “I’m always sweet. You of all people should know that, Stevie,” before a knock sounds at the front door. It comes in the several rhythmic raps that Eddie is known to give when he’s got a tune stuck in his head. 

Apparently now, it’s the chorus to “Why Can’t This Be Love?” The Van Halen song he said he couldn’t stand before you.

Robin huffs at the sound of the muffled taps. She frowns like a child. “Who the hell…?”

“It’s just Eddie,” you affirm through a half-hearted grunt as you rise from your comfy position.

That brightens the two of them up almost immediately. Her and Steve share a look you can’t place as they grin at one another. Then they turn back to you with identical mischievous twinkles in their eyes. “Your boyfriend is here,” the former of the two singsongs.

You roll your eyes, but make no move to correct her. 

When you stand from the bed and make the short journey towards the door, you hear the patter of their feet following close behind you. 

“Gonna go all the way tonight?” Steve teases and jabs you on the shoulder. “Do you want us to leave?”

“No, nothing is happening. And yes, I think you should leave,” you monotone playfully.

Robin rushes past you suddenly and grabs the brass door handle before you’re able. She swings it open without thinking twice about it. Her sudden appearance, coupled with the fact that it isn’t you, startles the man on the other side of the door.

Eddie’s umber eyes go wide, brows raising and disappearing beneath his fluffy bangs, as his head jerks back.

“Eddie Munson,” the girl full-names the stranger she’s never spoken a word to before now. She leans against the doorway and effectively blocks the boy’s view of you. Steve, who squeezes himself in beside her, doesn’t make it any easier. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You too, Buckley…” he wavers, trying to peer past them for any sight of you.

“Perfect timing, Eds,” you call out from behind them. “They were just about to leave.”

He’s relieved at the sound of your voice — even more so at your appearance when the two in front of you step off to the side to toe on their sneakers. 

You don’t look much different than when he saw you last. You’ve put on some makeup that’s started to smudge after the long day and changed your baggy sweatshirt for a more fitted tank top and boxers, but other than that you’re still the same. Still familiar and comforting in your way, a home away from home.

His smile is a tired one and it wobbles at the edges. “Oh, shit, am I— am I interrupting something?”

“No,” you’re quick to reassure him. “You’re saving me, actually.”

“Oh, give me a break,” Steve scoffs. “You love us.” 

The boy pulls you into a hug before he leaves, and it’s not the rarest thing in the world, but embraces like this do tend to be few and far between. He whispers  “use protection” in your ear and then a sharp “ow!” when you jab him in the ribs.

He and Robin smile kindly at Eddie when they walk by him and out the door, but waste barely a second before turning back around and grinning wildly at you. Steve flashes you a thumbs up while she mouths a cartoonish ‘good luck’ — like it’s the first time you and Eddie had ever been alone together. Like they were just on your ass about having been with him this whole time.

You usher Eddie and shut the door behind them. A quiet sort of peace settles on the apartment like a weighted blanket. The boy revels in every bit of its warmth.

Exhaustion drips from him like syrup. He’s sticky with it. His eyes have lost their usual twinkle, weighed down now with the burden of his fatigue. His face has lost most of its color, leaving a pale sheath of monotoned skin, and his hair is wilder than normal, with an unintentional sort of ruggedness to his curls.

It’s what being without you has done to him.

“You okay?” you ask him softly. It almost makes him want to cry.

“Yeah,” he answers anyway and idles in the spot where your kitchen meets your living room. “Just had a pretty shitty day. Wanted to spend time with you.”

“Me too… About the wanting to spend time with you part— and the shitty day part, too, I guess.”

Eddie smiles at your rambling, but purses it to the side to conceal it from you. “And since it is just about our…” he trails off and bends his elbow to check the watch on his wrist. “…Twelve hour anniversary, I picked us up some takeout.”

He sets the plastic bag on the counter. The red logo of Oriental Jade on the side of it makes your stomach roll with a distant hunger. You hadn’t realized how starved you were feeling after you abandoned your early dinner at Benny’s. It makes you more grateful for Eddie, who always seems to be on the same wavelength as you without even trying.

“Keep this up and we’ll be married before we hit hour twenty-four,” you joke as you rifle through the cartons — chow mein, sweet and sour chicken, dumplings, the works.

Eddie settles in next to you, propping his elbows on the countertop. “Well, I’m pretty sure the courthouse opens at nine, so… What were you thinking for the honeymoon? Hawaii? Bora Bora?”

“How about a cabin in the woods where no one can find us?”

“Hmm… Spooky. Sexy. I’m into it.”

You settle in the living room and eat on the couch while She Ra re-runs play on the television. You try to teach Eddie how to use chopsticks, though he can only work them with his non-dominant hand and all the wrong finger placements. You think it’s cute to watch him fumble with them, and you giggle about it until you’re scolding him for trying to feed Bowie some noodles. He laughs as you swat at him.

When all the containers are fully scrapped clean and tossed in the recycling bin, you migrate to the bedroom — which is perhaps too raunchy a phrase to use when the two of you only bury yourselves under the covers to talk shit.

Eddie drags out the chunky box fan you use when the air conditioner goes out in the summer — because it always goes out in the summer — and props it on the chest at the foot of your bed so the covers will billow around the both of you. “And it’s perfect because we can stay in the fort forever and not get hot,” he tells you, all giddy about it like he's a kid again.

“What if I get cold?” you retort.

Without missing a beat, he answers, “Well, lucky enough for you, I know several ways I can warm you up, sweetheart.”

He ditches his leather jacket and strips down to his boxers and settles in beside you underneath the blankets. The two of you lay shoulder to shoulder while you trace absentminded patterns on the palm of his hand and tell him about your day.

You make sure to leave out all the re-traumatizing-Billy-Hargrove bits, though. You focus mainly on the tense drive with Hopper and the small fight you’d had with Steve on the drive to the diner later that afternoon about the lyrics to Love My Way (both of you had been wrong).

Eddie tries his hardest to focus on your story and your fleeting touches, but he’s too far in his own head. You tell him all these things but he can’t stop thinking about himself — about whether or not you might’ve brought him up somewhere in between. 

He wouldn’t have blamed you, if you had. Steve and Robin are your closest friends and, for whatever reason, so is Chief Hopper, you’re bound to bring him up eventually. He was just hoping it would’ve been in a better capacity. Maybe about how kind he was or what a god he was in bed — not how he could only be one of those things because he’d never been anything in bed.

“It doesn’t make things weird between us, does it?” he wonders out of the blue.

You halt mid-sentence and turn to him with furrowed brows. “What?”

Eddie realizes then, that the first half of the conversation with you had only happened in his head. He prays that it’s too dark beneath the covers for you to see how red his cheeks get. “Just… What we talked about this morning. About me… you know…” He finds it hard to say the words. Or any of them at all.

“Why would it make things weird?”

“I don’t know. Because I wasn’t… totally honest with you, I guess? I feel a little bad about it, you know?”

“It’s okay,” you assure and turn on your side to be closer to him. Eddie stays on his back, more than happy to let you cuddle further into him. “I guess I do wish you’d said something before, though.”

His chest tightens. “I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know how to—”

“I’m not saying it to make you feel bad!” you interject quickly when you catch the spiral of regret he was about to twist himself into. You curl tighter into his side, tossing a leg over his thigh and wrapping your hand around his bicep in an effort to melt with him. When he turns to face you, your noses nearly brush.

 “That’s not how I meant it. I just meant that, if I’d known before, I wouldn’t have… I would’ve taken things slower. I wouldn’t have been so, you know, so all over you.”

He hates how apologetic you sound. Like there was ever an ounce of him that would want to take back what happened that night at his trailer or a part of him that might hate how much you love on him.

“I liked it. I do like it.”

“Maybe we can just start over,” you offer. “Pretend like none of that ever happened.”

Eddie knows there’s no way in hell he’ll be able to forget about a single damn thing — not his cum stained jeans and how you looked so pretty washing them for him, not the feel of your tits in his mouth or you wrapped around his fingers, not how you made him blow his load all over his fist just by talking to him. 

He goes along with it anyway, though, just for you.

“Okay...” he nods slowly, then squints over at you. “You’re still my girlfriend, though, right?”

“Of course I am,” you giggle.

He grins proudly to himself. “Well then… Hope it’s not too early to have our first kiss then?”

It makes you roll your eyes because it’s such an Eddie Munson way of asking to kiss you. You told him earlier the day that he never had to ask you — in fact, you’d prefer it if he’d just kiss you out of the blue and take your breath away without you ever knowing it was coming. But there was something foreign and sweet in his little reassurances.

“Kiss me silly, Eddie Spaghetti,” you beam. He twists on his side to press tiny pecks to your smile.

It’s rather strange, you find, to kiss someone this way without the intention of it ever becoming something more. You kiss him just to kiss him — just to map the outline of his cupid’s bow and memorize the pattern of his tongue. Just to feel him, as much of him as your mouth will allow you to.

With one arm curled under his head and the other cradling your jaw, when his watch alarms — high-pitched beepbeepbeeps in quick succession — it’s sudden and close to your ear. 

Your lips click in protest when they part. His are pink and swollen and glossy with your spit. He smiles with them. “Happy twelve hour anniversary, sweetheart.”

“How long are you gonna make that stupid joke?” you laugh like your heart isn’t swelling so much you’re scared it might burst entirely.

“Uh, I was thinking… forever. Yeah. That sounds about right,” he concludes after a moment of feigned thought. He turns his watch off again and you swear you see him set for another twelve hours from now.

“Forever?” you echo.

“Uh-huh. Forever—” he presses his lips to yours once. “—And ever—” Twice. “—And ever.”

Eddie kisses you until you’re flat on your back and surrendering to each of his tiny little pecks. You twist your hands in his hair and let him love on you a little while more. You giggle when his mouth trails from your lips to your chin to your jaw to your neck. Please don’t get bored of me, you beg silently within your laughter.

I don’t think I could even if I wanted to, he answers with each kiss his sprinkles to your starved skin. How could I, when you’re the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me?

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (6) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his. 

chapter summary: now that he knows of sejanus’s interest in you, coriolanus can only think of how to keep you away from him. 

word count: 2,566

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: coryo’s pov, hints of manipulative!coryo, obsessive!coryo, possessive!coryo, jealous!coryo

You were maddening. Did you not have any idea of the effect you had on him? Did you not realize that you occupied every single one of Coriolanus’s thoughts? Did you not realize that you made him want to destroy all of Panem if only for a moment of your time? But now, now you looked at him with nothing but loathing in your eyes. Why? Because he gave you a kiss? Did it not take your breath away as it did for him? 

Coriolanus could still feel your lips pressed against his. How soft your lips were. The way you gasped as he kissed you. How, for just a moment, you almost allowed him to touch you like that.  Then you were pushing him away, looking up at him with nothing but fire in your eyes. 

He almost wanted to laugh at the sight. Your lips were pressed into a thin line, your fists clenched into fists at your side. You were adorable when you were angry. No more serious than Coriolanus the Cat when he hissed at Coriolanus (the human) when he walked by. Coriolanus, for a moment, considered laughing. He liked seeing you this riled up. It made him wonder if you would be so…vivacious on your wedding night.

“What the hell was that!?” you shouted. Coriolanus stifled his snort. Were you truly that enraged by being kissed by him? “You cannot just, just kiss someone! We are not married, Snow! You promised that you would not ruin me!”

“Did I? I only recall saying your reputation would never be harmed.” Coriolanus rolled his eyes as he reached out for you again. He liked touching you. It made his mind a little quieter, reminded him that you were his. And now that he’s finally had you in an intimate way—your first and your last kiss—he wanted to do it again, and again, and again—lunch be damned. He imagined your mother still waiting in the dining room as the minutes ticked by, worry and concern and anger racing through her mind as she realized he was, in fact, ruining you for anyone else. Coriolanus licked his lips, realizing you weren’t pushing him away. Was this anger all a façade? Was this just an act for you to make him think you hated him? Were you as plagued by him as he was by you? “And it will not be, I will promise you that. If I wish, however, to kiss my fiancée in private, I shall do so.”

“You only did this so I would feel guilty if I tried to leave you for Sejanus, which I have already told I would not do!”

“No,” he said. “I did this because you drive me mad.”

“Then lock yourself in an asylum. Do not kiss me.”

Oh, there you go again. Saying such outlandish things to get a rise out of him. He loved when you were like this. He reached up, caressing your face. You tried to jerk away. And while he did love you like this, Coriolanus was also keenly aware that he needed to keep you in your place. He pinched your chin between his fingers. “You are to be my wife. You are to be the wife of a king. I shall treat you however I see fit. Do you understand?”

When you said nothing, he pinched harder. “Do you understand?”

“Only if you understand that I will hate you until the day I die.”

Coriolanus finally let out a laugh. Oh, you couldn’t be serious, could you? Were you not aware of the thin line between love and hatred, connected by the heat of passion? Did you not realize how easy it would be to get you to love him when you already felt so strongly about him? Coriolanus was sure that, by the time of the wedding, you would care for him just the same as he cared for you. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, petal,” Coriolanus said. He let go of your chin, using that hand to take one of your own. “Come now, let us have lunch now. Perhaps some food will help you calm down.”

“Calm down?” you repeated. “You cannot be serious, Snow.”

Ugh. There you go again—only calling him by his last name. It was an improvement, he supposed, from only calling him “Your Majesty.” But why was he limited to his surname when Sejanus received the honor of being called by his first? Surely there couldn’t just be friendship be you and the Plinth boy. Perhaps that was why you always held him at arm’s length. Perhaps there was more there that you did not want Coriolanus to know. He still did not know what you meant by “Sejanus was right.” What was the secret you were keeping from him? 

“And why wouldn’t I be? You have been acting as if I have threatened to lock you away until our wedding day. All I have done is ask one thing of you, and I have kissed you.”

“You asked me to stop talking to my friend. You…You accosted me!”

Coriolanus barked out a laugh. “And I compromised on the first point. I asked for you to refrain from speaking to him until after the wedding. As for accosting to you? What do you think will happen when we are at the altar? Better yet, when we consummate the marriage?”

You looked away from him. Ah, it seemed you hadn’t considered that. Were you as innocent as you seemed? Has your mother not yet informed you of how you would provide him heirs? He supposed that was right. Most Mama’s kept their daughters uninformed about those sorts of intimacies. It helped ensure that young ladies were not tempted in the same way young men were. You were as pure as they came, he mused, and Coriolanus Snow could not wait to ruin you. “Do not patronize me.”

“It is hardly patronizing to bring up the realities of our relationship. Now, come, let us have lunch.”

“Snow—”

Coriolanus ground his teeth together. What did he have to do to get you to refer to him by his first name? The only time he got to hear his name from your mouth was when you talked about that damned cat. He supposed that was better than nothing, but he wanted to be the only man that occupied your mind. For you to say his name because you cared for him the same way he cared for you. He imagined it sounded pretty, his name passing through your lips, honeyed with love and affection. What might it sound like when you were screaming it? 

“I believe the terms of our agreement were that you behave, yes? So, I will only tell you once more that we are going to have lunch, and you shall follow me into the dining room. You will sit beside me. You will laugh when I tell you jokes. You will smile and you will be the perfect picture of a Queen. Am I understood?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. For a second, he wondered if you would have a comeback that make him both want to laugh and scream. But, instead, you said, “I will not be who you want me to be, even if I am on my best behavior.”

That day, you ate lunch in complete silence. 

“Why is he here?” Coriolanus asked your mother as the Plinth family entered the ballroom. 

Your mother was hosting a ball to celebrate your engagement to Coriolanus. He, admittedly, was growing tired of these ridiculous affairs. If he could, he would speed this entire process along and enjoy the month-long solitude that the honeymoon would bring. It would, after all, be one of the rare times he did not have to attend any public engagements, attend any meetings, or ensure that the policies being adopted were following his agenda. He would be able to enjoy you completely and fully. Yet, he had to be patient. These sorts of engagements were tricky. If he moved too fast, he risked the ton thinking that he had already ruined you. The optics of that sort of rumor would not go ever well. It was not enough for Coriolanus to have power—he had to be beloved by the people who mattered. 

Of course, the ball might not have been such a terrible idea. It gave him an excuse to be near you. To remind the ton that you were his and he was yours. The only condition he gave when he received the news was that the Plinths not be in attendance.

“She threw a fit when she saw that they had not been included in the invitations,” your mother said. “I did not tell her it was because you asked for them to be excluded, if you are wondering. But she said she would sooner pitch herself out the window than allow her friend to be slighted like this.”

Coriolanus hummed. “You have to admire her loyalty, don’t you? Such a shame she doesn’t extend those same feelings toward me.”

“She will, eventually, Your Majesty. She’s stubborn, but not a halfwit. I’m sure after you two are married and have children, she’ll come to realize that you are the best husband she could dream of.”

“I believe she still hopes for a love match to save her from all this.”

When Coriolanus looked at your mother, she was rolling her eyes. “There is little a love match can provide that a well-bred husband cannot. I must take some blame, of course. I used to tell her about how in love her father and I were in our youth. How it felt like nothing in the world could stop us. I filled her head with hopes and dreams that she might find the same. I forgot to tell her how love can dwindle into nothing. About what happens when you think too much of the present and not the future.” Your mother looked up at Coriolanus. “There is no better man suited for her than you, Your Majesty, and she will realize it eventually.”

“Perhaps.” Coriolanus watched as Sejanus made his way through the crowd, to the refreshment table where you stood. His heart beat quickened. No. Sejanus could not steal you away, and certainly not at a ball celebrating your engagement to the King. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Coriolanus ignored the throngs of people vying for his attention. If he thought the meddling Mama’s were terrible before he was engaged to you, they were even worse now. Despite his obvious commitment to you, they seemed convinced that he could be so easily swayed. It took everything in him to not lose his temper. It would not go over well with the public, and he imagined it would go even worse with you. So, he held his tongue and offered tight-lipped smiles as he maneuvered through the crowd. 

As he neared you, however, he began to slow. As much as he would like to get between you and Sejanus to prevent anymore conspiring against him, he was equally interested in hearing what Sejanus had to say to you. Was he confessing his love to you? Was he convincing you to run away and elope with him? The Plinths still owned their home from the times before gaining their title. It would be the perfect place for Sejanus to hide away with you. 

Hmm…That was an interesting thought. Not Sejanus with you, of course. But the idea of taking you to a home in the country. Perhaps he could arrange for your honeymoon to be spent away from the Capitol? Coriolanus owned a nice summer home far, far from the Capitol. It might do him some good to get you away from the bustle of the city, to show you that Coriolanus could be a good husband if you would be a good wife. Yes, that was a good idea. He’ll need to make some arrangements as soon as the ball is over. 

Coriolanus hung back in Sejanus’s shadow, careful to make sure neither you nor Sejanus did not see him. This could only work if his presence was not noticed. 

“May I?” Sejanus was asking you, reaching for your hand. You allowed him to take it, lifting your hand closer to his face. For a moment, Coriolanus wondered if Sejanus was going to kiss your knuckles. Instead, he looked at the ring you wore over your long, white glove. “Coryo knows how to pick his jewelry.”

You hummed. He wished he could see your face. “I think it is a bit…obvious, don’t you? Every one knows his obsession with roses.”

“How fitting, then, he placed a permanent rose on his new obsession.”

“Is it a new obsession? You made it sound like his…so called infatuation with me ran much deeper the last we spoke.” Coriolanus wished you would pull your hand away. Why did you still allow Sejanus to touch you? He was the only person you should let hold your hand. “What is new is the…news of who you have had your eye on.”

The tips of Sejanus’s ears turned red. “I do not know what you mean.”

“Ah, so Livia and Clemmie were only gossiping then?”

“They are good at that, yes.”

It was true, then. Sejanus’s interest in you. Coriolanus crept around, ready to intervene at a moment’s notice. Now that this was confirmed, he really did not want Sejanus around you—their friendship be damned. Coriolanus was not going to let anyone stand in between his marriage to you. 

“I wish you would have told me, Sej,” you said. 

Coriolanus ground his teeth together. Was it not enough for you to call Sejanus by his name? Did you have to have a nickname for him too? 

“It wouldn’t have made any difference. Coryo has always cared for you. He’s done so much for me, I couldn’t get in the way of that.”

“It would have made a difference to me.”

Sejanus rubbed his thumb over your knuckles, his thumb pausing over your engagement ring. “It is sweet you think that.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up into a smile. “It is a naïve thought, isn’t it?”

Finally, finally, Sejanus dropped your hand. “I just wanted to congratulate you on the engagement. I’m sure you have many more people to talk to.”

“I would rather talk to you. But…I suppose I should take this as an opportunity to learn more about hosting. I am sure Snow will want many social engagements to prove we are a happy couple.”

Sejanus raised a brow. “Snow? My, that is a new development of your own.”

“Quiet. Were you not just saying you were leaving?” You tilted your head to the dance floor. “Go, find someone to dance with.”

“No one could compare to you.” But he walked away all the same. 

As Sejanus walked away, Coriolanus stepped in to take his place. 

“He is only a friend, Snow.”

For once, Snow said nothing. Not because he believed you, but because he was thinking of the most effective way to keep you away from Sejanus until after the wedding. Because he will be damned if he let Sejanus attempt anything that could take you from him. 

[getawayfox]

My favorite reclist of the year! It’s the best excuse to reread beloved fics and shout about them again. I couldn’t wait any longer to post it, so, without further ado: here are my personal favorites from 2023 and why I love them, along with a banner I’m really pleased with. 

Thank you, sweet writers, for giving us your wonderful stories. Wishing everyone a happy December and an amazing and soft new year!

I Fall On Grass by @tackytigerfic Drarry, T, 3.1k

I adore stories with mature characters and this one is no exception. It’s so charming: gentle pining over the years, throughout the realities of life and parenthood, written with such a light hand. And lovely worldbuilding of a slow life that they built for themselves, which left me smiling the whole day after reading it. It feels like a soft caress for my soul.

It’s Me or the Peacock by harrows Drarry, T, 4.6

Do you ever feel like reading a fun, lighthearted fic that will have you grinning all day? Look no further, this is the one. Picture this: established Drarry taking the plunge to move in together, except Draco is bringing his “avian third wheel” with him, adding a feathered twist to the mix. Harry can’t quite believe what’s happening and that’s not even the half of it. This fic is a delight!

Sun Shower by @moonmanatee Drarry, T, 6k

Meet Orkie (short for Snorkel), the delightful cat who loves his boy Harry very much. They share a special bond, silently understanding not to delve into the origins of their pasts. What matters most is their companionship and the comforting routine they’ve woven together. Now, enter Draco Malfoy, a fashion icon with phenomenal outfits, his mud-loving dog, Hubert, and a dash of mouthwatering culinary creations. Your heart will grow three sizes by the time you’re done reading; mine certainly did.

Birds Behaving Badly by @peachpety Drarry, E, 10.5k

Oh, this fic!! I swear my whole body was wiggling with delight when I read it – it’s hilarious and hot and so witty. Draco has a type, which leads to a fun case of mistaken identity, all artfully resolved with the intervention of a conniving seagull, Kevin. Brace yourself for some sassy Slytherin banter, side characters so vividly portrayed they’ll steal your heart (Goyle, I’m looking at you), and the enchanting backdrop of a magical Brighton in the summer. Cue the squeals of delight! 

A Saviour’s Guide to Manners and Decorum by @wolfpants Drarry, E, 13k

I have read every fic Wolf has written this year and, let me tell you, choosing just one feels like an impossible task – I wish I could include them all. But here is my pick, and it’s not because it happened to be my birthday gift. This fic is a gem, seamlessly blending humor with a soft, wistful touch (oh, and do I need to mention it’s also incredibly hot?). It resonates because Harry just wants to be accepted for who he is, refusing to change for anyone (as he rightly shouldn't!). Enter Draco, who is here to help, and not to “fix him”. Sprinkle that with a subtle hint of D/s dynamics, a generous serving of UST, and a sensual shaving scene, and you have got the perfect fic. LOVE!

I only want the ones I envy (I envy) by @porcelainheart3 Drarry, E, 13.5k

This fic is so stunning! A coming-out story with writing so clean and sharp it made me laugh out loud through (lots of) inevitable tears. It has a very competent magical inventor Draco, who wears sock garters(!). It has Harry on a self-discovery journey that feels so very real; with a heart-wrenching childhood flashback that will leave you shattered. It has the most supportive friends. It has banter and flirting and so many wonderful details (look closely at the newspaper in the fic for an extra dose of laughter). And let's not forget the most incredibly emotional blow job; talk about smut with feelings! It’s one of those fics that made me read the rest of the author’s catalog immediately (and trust me, you should too!).

A Time, Dark and Divine by @moonflower-rose Established Drarry, Draco/Ron/Harry, E, 17k

Oh boy oh boy oh boy, this fic is so scorching hot. And their dynamic is so complex: jealousy and possessiveness wrapped up in a delicious package of a boys' trip in Thailand. A stunning Ron POV filled to the brim with complicated history and tension, incredible characterization for all three of them, culminating, inevitably, in hot-hot-hot sex. I couldn’t get this story out of my head for days. If you, like me, like feelings with your smut, this one’s for you! 

Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w and @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm Drarry, E, 22k

This story is so charming and whimsical! First of all, this Draco is such an utter delight that I fell in love with him right away. He’s so entertaining! The concept of Christmas in July gives the story a wonderfully atmospheric and slightly wistful tone. Add to it a very domestic and playful dynamic between Draco and Harry, top-notch dialogue, so many creative details, and an absolutely delicious and intimate sex scene. From beginning to end, this fic is so warm and touching; a gentle romance that feels as if it was enchantingly sprinkled with a cheering charm.

the first in line by @oflights Drarry, E, 29.5k

This fic is hilarious, mischievous, and sexy all at the same time. And also a little bit unhinged in the best possible way. It had me in its grip from the very first sentence: “When the clock strikes midnight on his 25th birthday, Harry is having a threesome with a werewolf and a vampire.” (chef’s kiss!) and it didn’t let me go. We have a reluctant and grumpy Veela Harry, an over-the-top Draco, summer vacation vibes, a magical yacht, wooing with a hot air balloon (and more!), plus an absolutely delightful non-monogamous background Romione. Gah!!!

Of Magical Beings Being - Magic by @rockingrobin69 Drarry, E, 30k

What’s actually magic here is Robin’s writing. It’s… wait, I don’t think I have words for how rich and full this world is, how special! There’s pining and soft angst and an unreliable narrator and exes to lovers, but somehow all that doesn’t even begin to describe what this story is. It’s witty and fascinating and soft and playful. It’s about loving the other person so much that you do the wrong thing because you think that’s what they want, even though it hurts you. It’s about manifesting them in everything you do until they come back. It’s about Love, about Happiness. It knocked the breath out of me. It’s unbearably lovely.

Winner takes it all by @skeptiquewrites Drarry, E, 41k

This fic is absolutely devastating in a sort of gentle way. My heart broke a million times for this wonderful, hardworking, cornered Draco – who’s looking after his mum – as well as for a whole bunch of beautifully written side characters. The story starts with a bet, and from there, it unravels with Tee's razor-sharp writing, infused with nuance that makes the narrative incredibly rich and undeniably real. If you're in the mood for a cathartic cry, followed by a sweet, happy ending, don't walk – run to this fic!

[volterran-wine]

Three's a Crowd || Felix & Demetri

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 @xxx-wounded-angel-xxx : "Omg your requests are open!!! :D I am a huge fan of your Felix and Demetri (Felix is husband material and i love him so much) so i was wondering if i could get something about Felix ' romantic S/O and their platonic relationship with Demetri. I have a lot in common with Dem (anxious fashionable bibliophile) and i wanted to know how would Demetri's relationship with Felix ' mate would be. (Be my brother Demetri please)

Thank you! ❤️🦇"

Good evening dear, I am terribly sorry for getting to this request late—but I sincerely hope I have made up for the wait with this answer to your request. Demetri and Felix are my dear little duo, so I will always adore writing for them.

𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

—  𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐈 & 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗

The thing with Demetri is that, while he avoids a mate of his own like the plague; he will wingman for Felix until he meets his final death. There is no other vampire (besides perhaps Caius) who wishes for Felix to have a mate more. There is no one more deserving in his eyes.

So, the initial stages of Felix finding his mate will be rather blissful. Both Demetri and Heidi will probably shed a venomous tear or two as they watch Felix with his potential mate. The tracker will claim it was a speck of dust later, or a cat hair from Elizabeth that caused the reaction.

That being said, Demetri will never just roll over and allow a potential mate to have Felix. He will demand to get to know them at the same time as Felix is, throwing in his own questions and inquiries while his best friend falls deeper in love with his mate.

“When and where were you born?” “Have you ever met The Romanians?” “What diet do you adhere to?” “Have you felt the mate pull before?” “Why are you interested in Felix?” “Why have you—” You all understand the picture.

Within my writing these two are already platonic mates, the two of them will stick together until death tears them apart regardless if either of them finds mates. If Demetri finds something wrong with them Felix will take the concerns seriously as long as they are valid.

Having the same or similar interests as Demetri will be a boon however, it will be a great way to get in the trackers good graces while Felix is planning the mate ceremony behind his best friends back. If the mate in question happens to be interested in Austen Demetri would most likely warm up even quicker.

While they bond Felix will stand back and count every blessing he has ever had, because he cannot quite fathom he has done enough in either of his life to deserve a best friend like Demetri and as lovely of a person as his mate is.

Once trust has been built, the mate in question will just have to accept that Demetri with all his quirks and flaws will be their close friend as well. The two of them is a package deal, and neither will part from the other.

Demetri will be an overbearing mother in law and the best brother in law at the same time.

[selineram3421]

Can I request please headcanons of Alastor being faced with an AMBUSH! A SUPRISE ATTACK (from his s/o wanting hugs and kisses).

Yes. You don't understand. Hhhmmn-

Headcanons of Surprise Attacks

Warning! ⚠

⚠ Fluff, just a ton of fluff. Kisses, hugs, cuddles. ⚠

Romantic: Alastor X Sweet Reader

Alastor would often get into other's personal space and bug them with some physical contact. Which was ironic, considering that he hated when it was done to him.

Though, no one has really tried. Unless they had a death wish.

The only demon he was ok with being close was you. His wonderful significant other whom he adored and treasured.

Most of the contact you've had with each other was hand holding, or anything Alastor pulled you into. Hug, spin, dance.

Until one day~

You surprised him with a peck on the cheek. "Thanks hun!", you said, taking the word puzzle you were stuck on and walk off to go finish the rest.

He stared off into nothing for a while and then place a hand on his cheek where you kissed him. He stood there, thinking about it. It didn't feel terrible, it didn't bug him to the point of destroying anything.

Instead it felt nice. The Radio Demon wouldn't mind if you did it again.

You began hugging him from behind while he was cooking. It felt nice and warm. Alastor wasn't much of a hugger but he felt like turning around to hug you back and melt into your hold.

Then there were morning kisses. He'd wake up to you kissing his face, and you'd smile when realizing that he had woken up. "Good morning!" Its a wonderful morning.

Sometimes you had a bad days, coming home and surprising him with hugs.

"Darling?", he says questionably, wrapping his arms around you.

"Bad day. Cuddles.", is all you'd say.

With that both of you would go into the living room and cuddle on the couch, where Alastor would be able to appreciate how nice the hugs were. Soft and warm.

Whenever you would ask for help with making something, he'd help as much as he can or give you ideas.

You'd light up when things turned out right and turn to grab his face. "Al! You're a genius!", you'd say and pepper his face with kisses.

After you walk off humming a tune, Alastor is left blinking, trying to process. When he does, his face flushes. Covered in lipstick stains too if you wear it.

God this thing is so fluffy-

You still surprise him. Hugging him randomly. When you let go he pulls you back in for more. Now you've got him hooked on hugs.

With morning kisses, he craves good night kisses. And he gathers enough courage to ask you for some. "Darling, if you don't mind-.", he clears his throat. "Could I perhaps get a goodnight kiss?"

"Aw, my poor deer.", you coo and pull him closer. "Of course."

While you're busy give him good night kisses, his little tail wags.

When he starts working with the hotel, he feels a bit upset that you're not around to give him affection.

Lol, he's addicted.

Then he brings you over to the hotel one day. Cuddling with you once both of you are in his office.

He starts bringing you around more often, feeling overjoyed whenever you enter his office.

When he sees you kill someone for the first time, his heart is fluttering. Carrying you off for kisses and cuddles.

Husk walks in on the two of you in the middle of kisses. "Nope.", is all the cat demon says before walking out and closing the door behind him. He'll think twice before entering the office again.

It isn't long till he starts giving you surprise kisses as well.

~Seline, the person.

ML for Alastor🎙

[wobblesthecowgirl]

hiii🫶🏼

what would be your hc of the guys and their favorite thing about you (reader), or, what they unconsciously look for in a parter/relationship?

Rdr2 Men and what they love about you!

Thank you for the request! If anyone else wants to send ideas for me to write, 'Ask Away Partner!' Is where you can submit them!

I hope I met your expectations!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Arthur: The thing he adores most about you is how genuinely nice you are. You will help strangers who need it, look after stray cats, and listen to the gang member's problems. He just can't understand how someone so loving could want to be around him. He also believes that he is too bad for you to associate with, and that makes him feel guilty for even wanting you to be his.

Sean: Surprisingly, it's how blunt and stern you are. You will tell people how it is without beating around the bush, tell people off when they need to be, and take a lot of situations seriously. A leader; a strong willed woman. He likes this because when he gets you to laugh loudly, joke around and be playful, it's a big accomplishment for him. It makes him feel on top of the world, because he made you laugh.

Dutch: He loves how good you are at listening. Whenever he's had a plan that's gone bust, or just a terrible day in general, being able to come back and just let it all out. You will sit and nod, agree with what he's saying and console him, occasionally offering solutions which may help. He can't help but smile at your willingness to try to help and be there for him.

John: He loves a feisty woman. He may act like he doesn't like butting heads, but deep down he loves it. The way he can tease and jab at you, and you'll respond with even harsher jabs, sometimes a gentle slap to warn him that he's taking it too far, makes him grin like crazy. Keeps him on his toes, and majority of the time, it keeps him in check.

Jaiver: How you try to learn Spanish so you can sing along with him. He will just be singing by the campfire and he can hear you humming softly by his side with your eyes closed, and it makes him wish he could listen to it forever. Then one day, you tried speaking Spanish and he got so giddy and tried to help your pronunciation. He also wants to be able to talk crap about gang member's with you while sitting right next to them.

Charles: How you look after everyone in the gang. You learned how to sew wounds, help colds, and the herbs that aid with that; simply because you wanted to help people. The way you are soft with everyone, very calm talking, and well spoken makes him smile while he watches you converse with others.

Lenny: How you love to write and read. You get embarrassed when someone asks to read what you're writing, so he has sneakily gone through the pages, and loved how amazing your imagination is. He also asks you to read to him, finding your voice relaxing while he does basic tasks. If you're lucky, you'll take turns reading together.

Hosea: He loves how you can easily talk your way out of a situation. Your smart wits can get you out of any predicament, and they're always a hoot to watch. He loves to tell people around the campfire all the crazy adventures himself and you have gotten into because you talked yourself into them. He will suggest plans to Dutch so that he can see it unfold again and again.

Kieran: Your cooking skills make him want to cry every time; he thanks the heavens he gets to eat the food you make. Growing up, he always got plain or little things to eat, so when you heard that, you made sure to cook everything under the sun to make sure he was well fed. His eyes widen at every single plate you offer, he holds your hands and thanks you repeadtly, and smiles widely while eating the whole thing.

Josiah: It has to be your fashion sense. The way you can make any outfit look good blows him away, and he loves the little details you add. He makes sure to compliment you every time, "you look absolutely beautiful, my dear". He will also take you to the tailors himself just so he can watch your mind at work. It's an honor for him to have the chance to show you off in your outfits.