#in summer i shower maybe three times a week

[deathbecomesthem]

Exile in Guyville 1 - Mesmerizing

Moodboard by @onegirlmanytales

Record shop Eddie Munson x AFAB Reader

*Disclaimer* This story is written in second-person POV for reader immersion. I am labeling it an Eddie Munson x Reader fic. Reader is a unique character. They have a shaved head, are physically disabled - sometimes walking with a limp -, tattoos, and piercings. They have a backstory. If you are not interested in a fic written in that way, simply do not read it. Both Eddie and reader are bisexual. Reader is physically disabled and has PTSD. Eddie is bisexual, has PTSD, and chronic pain.

Series Summary: It's 1995 and Eddie is still looking for a home. His nomadic lifestyle as a studio musician for hire has become lonely as he watches his friends move on and start families of their own. The loss of Wayne, and the relationship he forms with an old rocker brings him to a college town where he meets you. Is there room in your life for him?

Chapter Summary: It's tattoo day.

Self Insert Fan art by @dr-aculaaa

It’s quiet, and it’ll be quiet for months. A respite from the nonstop energy that the college kids provide. It’s the first week of summer break, and all of the outsiders have been shipped back home to mom and dad for the hottest days. Even your own house, normally buzzing with activity, is empty with the exception of your ghost roaming the halls in the early mornings and late at night.

8 bedrooms, 7 roommates, 2 bathrooms. Summer means it’s just you and Mo. Mo’s mom lives in town, so she doesn’t have to stay in the big house with you. She can sleep in her childhood bed, eat dinners made by her mom, and take real baths in a shiny bathtub instead of standing in a shower with mold growing in the corner. It’s one of the many problems on the list for your landlord, never to be addressed. Despite the mold, the cracked tile in the kitchen, the lock that sometimes doesn’t work on the back door, and the complete lack of insulation in the walls – every single one of your roommates signed a new lease. It’s hard to beat $120 a month.

You love the empty streets, the quiet, the way the heat of the sun brings out the details on the otherwise drab streets. Every face you come across you know. This is a small town, really, when the kids are gone. Maybe you’re a kid, too, but you belong to this town, so you’re welcome. Mostly.

Right now your jeans are hanging low on your hips, the ends dragging under the bottom of your boots forever a murky brown color from wear and tear. You’ve had them for years, and you’ll have them until the holes are too big to be patched. You decided to forgo the bra for your appointment. One less thing to worry about while Danny did his thing. You threw a flannel over your black t shirt for modesty’s sake, and so no creepy douchebags decided to take no bra as some kind of invitation. It wouldn’t be the first time.

The nose piercing you got at the shop last week was healing slowly. Slower than it should, it was painful and red for three full days before the inflammation finally calmed. The piercing, a hack job performed by a tattoo apprentice, was a bloody experience that left your roommate sitting on the ground after nearly passing out at the sight of your face. She had her head between her knees while James, the dickhead, was sweating so much while he had his head hovering over your face you could feel it drip onto your own neck. That day you left swollen, sore, and with an important life lesson tucked away in your mind – never trust a piercer with no piercings.

When you reach the shop, it’s dead. You decide to wake it up, throwing the door open – hard – letting the little bell jangle loudly to announce your arrival. The front windows are street level, making it easy for passersby to sneak a peak into the shop as they wander the streets. You know that’s where you’ll be today. Danny will prop you up in the chair that sits in front of those windows, a stage where he can perform his great trick and draw in new customers. That was fine by you, but you always thought it should earn you some kind of discount to be his model for a few hours. Someone always came in when you were in the chair.

“Who’s there?” The question comes from the back room, along with disgruntled muttering about someone breaking the goddamn door. James, Danny’s apprentice, is sat behind the counter scratching at his sketch pad. When his eyes find the answer to Danny’s question, he rolls them, and drops his head back to his drawing.

“It’s your little pet, the Queen Bitch.” James’ usual greeting rubs a little more than it should today. You’re on edge, more than usual, and you have no patience for his bullshit. You show him your middle finger, too annoyed to spare the words, and stand in front of the counter with your arms crossed and eyes glaring. James only cares about the college girls that come through that door, the ones that he thinks might suck his dick if he gives them a free tattoo. The last time you were here you heard the work “dyke” muttered between him and one of his buddies, and you assume that’s why he hates you. Why waste the time? No time for a “carpet muncher,” as he affectionately calls you occasionally. To your face.

“I can head down to Sparky if you guys are too busy for me,” you make sure to call out loud enough for Danny to hear you from the back of the shop. You need him front and center, get some space between you and his minion. Plus, you made a fucking appointment, didn’t you?

There’s a small crash, and Danny’s rounding the corner and buckling his belt. You don’t want to know what he was doing back there, but you hope he was only taking a piss. “Sparky is a fat slob. What do you, fucking hepatitis?” He grumbles as he pushes past you and into the open shop.

“Please tell me you’re about to wash those hands.” Your wrinkled nose and mouth turned down with a sour expression are turned on the old man jerked his way across the room beyond you.

“Don’t start shit, you already know that’s what I’m doing,” and he is, hands running under the little sink sat near the tattoo stations, “I want you in the front today. You ok with an audience, my delicate little flower?”

You give a small involuntary head shake at his sarcasm before a nod in affirmation. You head to the chair, one you’ve been in half a dozen times already, and straddle it to fully expose your back to the empty room waiting for Danny to make his way over to you.

“So, I had to make an adjustment to your design. No complaining. It was too small, and you don’t want the lines fucked to hell.” He hands you the design to check out before he puts the stencil to your back. It’s bigger – by a lot, but you didn’t mind. You don’t tell him that though, you need haggling room. That’s the fun part. You have to put up at least a little bit of a fight.

“Come on, Dan. How much more is this gonna cost me?” You wave the paper in his face for a second, and he’s snatching it out of your hand with a grumble.

“We agreed on $80 initially, I’ll do the revised design for $125.” It’s your turn to grumble.

“Sparky would do it for $100.” Your sing song voice is laced with venom.

“Yeah, and you’d come out with an infection. $115, final offer.”

You pretend to make serious consideration of his final offer, but you both know you’re gonna take it. It’s fair, and it’s still less than you should be paying. You’ve never understood why, but Dan has a soft spot for you, and he always shoots low on the price.

On your first visit to the shop to get a tattoo you pointed to a design from the wall. It didn’t matter to you, it could have been anything. It was a tattoo, anything to mark your skin, to distance yourself. That day your hair still hung low, and you were in the pretty clothes your mom picked out for you. Danny had laughed at you, actually laughed.

“Baby girl, tattoos hurt. Maybe you should go get your nails done and sit in the tanning bed instead.” The smile he wore that day cut deep, and only added to your determination.

You had shocked the absolute shit out of him by falling asleep while he gave you the purple butterfly tattoo on your left hip. That day it was impossible to hide the scars. Danny saw them, you wanted him to see them. He knew from that moment on, pain wasn’t an issue for you.

Today, you look forward to the pain. The feeling of the needle penetrating your skin. Your mind has been loose and chaotic. Being in the chair always helped to bring your focus back. A meditation of ink and blood. Even James keeps his mouth shut while Dan’s working unless he’s directly addressed by his mentor. If you had the cash, you’d come every week, a tithe to your chosen church.

The next hour is a practice of meditation, transcending the scratching pain at your skin. You relax and let Danny work, you’ve learned to trust his arthritic hands. They steady as soon as the gun is turned on and his gloved hand rests on you. You listen to the rhythmic sounds of the gun and James’ scribbling at his sketch book. It’s not until the jingle of the bell at the front door that you’re roused from your sleepy state.

You listen. You’re on high alert always, more so when your back is exposed, and you can’t see behind you. You don’t need a problem, but sometimes one finds you at the worst time. What you hear is the sound of boots scuffing the tile floor, slowing at your chair before making their way to the front counter. Not a word exchanged with you or Dan, but you felt the eyes on your skin, watching the ink mark you.

“Hey man, what’s good?” You let out a little snort, you’re sure Dan can hear. The greeting is overly friendly, something you never hear from James. You can hear hands meeting hands behind your back. James sounds like a little kid, he’s kissing the ass of this new visitor. Not a girl, you know by the person’s gait. They’re sure footed and you can hear the jangling of metal. A wallet chain, you assume.

Danny pauses the tattoo gun to make his own greeting. He rarely tries to hold a conversation with anyone when you’re in the chair, which is appreciated. You want his focus on your body while he permanently marks your skin.

“Eddie, man! I was gonna stop by and see how the shop’s comin’ along once I was done with Ms. Congeniality here.” You bring your arm out to show Dan your middle finger, again thankful for a way to communicate your feelings without having to open your mouth.

A loud laugh, uninhibited, echoes through the small shop. Not Dan or James, they never laugh at you anymore, it’s the stranger, Eddie. You hear the boots click against the tile floor again as Eddie makes his way back to see the progress Danny’s made on your shoulder piece. You can feel him close, this new guy, but you keep your face pressed to the black vinyl of the chair. Anyone that friendly with James cannot be a friend to you.

“You really know how to charm your customers.” The voice is speaking over your back now. It’s deep and coated with honey. You’re very thankful to have your face in the opposite direction of them, because the sound of that voice caused your eyes to pop open unexpectedly. A tingle runs through your body knowing how close that the owner of that voice is to you right now, looking at your exposed skin and appraising it. After another beat, he must have really been inspecting Dan’s work, you hear his footfalls move back to the counter and away from you.

“Store is coming along. I’m getting more product tomorrow. You boys know anyone looking for some part time work? It’s a fucking ghost town around here right now?” Dan and James both let out little noises of ascent. Yeah, it’s summer in a college town and the locals aren’t lining up for part time gigs. A lot of the local shops end up keeping short hours or shutting down all together for a while.

“I’ll keep my ears peeled, brother.” You can’t help but laugh a little at James’ eagerness with Eddie. Brother, what a douchebag. James pretends he didn’t hear you, and continues talking, although a little less enthusiastically, “Ed, take a look at this, I’ve been working on your piece. Tell me what you think.”

The two men at the counter go back in forth in a conversation that doesn’t interest you. You’re letting yourself get loose, lighten and drift. Danny’s steady hand and the gun lull you back into that calm space that only exists in this chair in this tattoo shop. It’s another 20 minutes until the pressure on your skin disappears, and the sound of the gun stops. Dan groans a little as he moves off the stool, “Alright, Trouble, you’re all done.”

You stand, your arm still pushed through the neck of your t shirt, and head to the full-length mirror to take a look. It’s a damn good job, exactly what you asked for, even if it is a little bigger than you initially wanted. It’s better than you thought it would be. Again, though, you play your hand close to your chest. “Hmm, not bad, Dan. Some of those lines, though. Hmm, did you forget your coffee this morning?”

Eddie’s loud laughter, you know now it’s probably something he gives freely, finally brings your gaze to him for the first time. Your eyes’ progression is slow, moving from the black leather boots, up the tight black jeans to find a black leather jacket. Loose curls hang around to frame his face, the rest of his hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail at the base of his neck. Despite the out-of-date look, he’s gorgeous, and you hope he doesn’t realize it’s taking you far too long to peel your eyes away from him.

“You boys have a livewire here.” His smile is big and the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes tell you he’s probably a little older than you initially thought. You narrow your own eyes at Eddie while you feel Danny cleaning and wrapping your new tattoo. You’re trying to get a fix on this guy. Trying to understand why he’s even looking at you and trying to be friendly with you.

“Let’s settle up, boys. I’ve spent enough time in this hell hole.” You move past Eddie to the counter where James is waiting with you. You pull your arm back through the neck of your shirt and wrap your flannel over your chest, suddenly feeling very exposed. You place a stack of bills on the counter, there goes your hope of anything other than ramen and peanut butter sandwiches until pay day. “I still think I should get a discount after you fucked up my face last week,” you mutter out, sadly watching James palm the cash that belonged to you only moments ago.

“Your face was fucked up before you even stepped foot in the door.” James’ jab misses its mark completely because Eddie’s eyes are still on you, and you can’t hear the process the insult.

You slip a couple of 20s in Danny’s hand and head towards the door. Before you step out, you turn back to address the metalhead leaning at the counter. His hip’s jutted out and the light is hitting him like he was some sort of Heavenly creature sent down to provide you with extra grocery money during the off season.

“Oh, hey, Eddie, right? I work at the coffee shop across the street, but I could use another part time gig,” your voice is casual, but you are actually desperate. James opens his mouth to say something, you can hear his breath dragging through his crooked teeth, but Eddie puts a hand up to stop whatever insult he has in mind.

“The Record Exchange on Water. I just opened last week. Come down and we’ll work something out.” Eddie’s hand is open to you, palm up. An invitation.

You nod and duck out. You should have known. The hot metalhead owns the new record shop.

[houseofanticipation]

It's impossible to count the number of times you've imagined this moment. Late at night, under the covers; in the bathtub, and the shower; on slow days at the bookstore, the summer before senior year; during Mr. Madrigal's long, droning lectures. You fantasized so vividly you could see each scene on the back of your eyelids, hear each sound between breaths. Many a time your hand migrated southward, almost of its own volition. If you were in public, you'd hold it against your crotch, pressing it into yourself with the force of your clenched thighs. In private, you'd be far less subtle.

In all those fantasies, you never imagined it would look quite like this.

The hallway smells like cigarettes and industrial cleaner. The haphazardly patterned carpet is coming up at the edges. The yellow tube light overhead might be attempting morse code, the way it flickers. Paint peels from the door in front of you, and one of the metal digits in the room number has been replaced with one that doesn't quite match: room 233. You raise your hand, your knuckles inches from the door, and then you pause. You're not sure if you can go through with this.

Before you can decide, the door opens anyway.

You started posting pictures in your first year of college. It was just your tits at first. You'd been quietly following those subreddits and tumblr blogs for a while, and you thought it would be a bit of fun, a little thrill. You didn't expect the response you got: dozens of people telling you how much they'd enjoyed it, asking for more. So you posted more, and the people asked for different things. Post your ass. Post your cunt. Post your fingers in your cunt. Post audio of you moaning as you came. The more you revealed of yourself, the more attention you got, and the more attention you got, the more you wanted to show. People wanted to send you tips, so you set up a Cash App address. You never got much, a few dollars here and there, but it was nice to get a free coffee now and then.

And somewhere along the way, apparently, you let slip that you were a virgin.

The message came late last semester, from a Cash App user whose name was just a string of numbers. It read, "I will buy your virginity for $100,000. So you know I'm serious, here is $7000 for you to keep, deal or no deal. Let me know if interested."

It was like one of those hypotheticals you talk about with your friends at the dinner table. Would you work nonstop for a year if it meant you never had to work again? Would you cut off your hand if it meant you never had to die? Would you let a stranger from the internet take your virginity for a hundred thousand dollars? You thought about it for weeks. The 7 thousand in itself was a windfall you never could have imagined. It was the new laptop you needed, four times over. It was a large iced coffee ever day for three and a half years. After graduation, if you were smart, it could be your living expenses for the better part of a year. But a hundred thousand might be a house, or a car, or a few years of freedom to pursue your goals. And when you asked how you could trust him to pay when he'd gotten what he wanted, he told you he'd be happy to pay up front.

So here you are, in a dingy hotel, face to face with the broad-shouldered, potbellied older man in front of you. "I saw you through the peephole," he says. There's something impish about him. Maybe it's the toothy grin, or the way his ears stick out from his head, or the obvious glee in his voice as he looks you up and down. "My, you're much better in person. Come in! You got the money then?"

You nod. You didn't leave the Lyft until it was there in your account.

"Good," he says, throwing the dead bolt. "Let's get to it then, shall we?"

"What should...I mean, how do you want to..." you feel yourself talking strangely. Breathing in the wrong places, words tumbling over each other. "Maybe we should...talk first? Get to know each other?"

"No need for that," says the man matter-of-factly, unbuttoning his shirt. His chest is smooth, his skin a mottled pink. He waves a hand at your body. "Go ahead and get those off."

Back in high school, one of your recurring fantasies involved Jason Meier having his way with you in the back of that beat up convertible he used to drive. That old thing used to get you so wet. It was a piece of junk, but something about the exposure of it...In the fantasy, he's driven you out to some secluded spot outside of town. Cicadas drone all around. The night sky shines bright with stars. He cups your face with one hand, strokes your cheek with his thumb, asks you if this is your first time. He kisses the side of your mouth, then your jaw, then below your ear, then down your neck. As his hands undo the top button of your blouse, he tells you he'll be gentle.

The man is watching you expectantly. With his shirt on, he looked like a portly old man. Without it you can see that every inch of that stocky build is hard muscle. That pink skin strains against his mass, muscle rippling beneath it as he moves. "What are you waiting for?"

Your legs tremble. Your knees feel like they're about to buckle. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears. Your body has never done this before. You didn't know you could feel this kind of fear, and yet there's nothing to fight, nowhere to flee. You agreed to this. You decided this was what you wanted. Slowly, you pull your shirt over head.

He groans in the back of his throat, a long, growly sound. His face is a mask of focus, the impish joviality gone, his eyes fixated on your breasts. "And the rest."

You kick off your shoes, pull off your socks. An inch at a time, you slide your shorts and panties over your ass, down your legs, past your trembling knees. You step out of them, and now you're completely exposed. You cross your arms over your chest, then lower them when he grunts disapproval. Almost urgently, he unbuttons his pants, pulls out a long, rigid cock, and begins to stroke himself.

You didn't discover internet porn until your senior year, and before then the only penises you'd seen were a few drawings in your health textbook. In the fantasy, you unbutton Jason Meier's pants and fig. 7.5, "The penis becomes engorged when in state of arousal," pops out of his underwear. You take it in your hands, feeling the weight of it, the girth, and look up into those beautiful brown eyes of his.

This cock is much...realer. It has bounce, texture, even a sound as his hand slides up and down its length. It's longer than the one in that old fantasy, too, and it leans slightly to the left. For years you've wondered what it would be like to see a cock in person, and now that you're here it terrifies you.

"Come here," says the man, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Get on your knees."

You falter. "You didn't...I mean, we didn't agree to that."

"I bought your virginity," says the man. "You ever suck cock before?"

You shake your head.

"Then your mouth is just as much a virgin as your cunt. Get down here."

It's almost a relief to get off your legs, the way they've been threatening to give out. Close up, you can see the purples and blues of the veins under his skin. The head of his cock pulses with anticipation as your lips part, your tongue extends...

You don't think you can do this.

Then his hand is on the back of your head.

You always imagined Jason Meier whimpering as you took him into your mouth. You were never quite able to picture what he would feel like between your lips, on your tongue; the movie camera of your imagination always panned up at that point, to focus on his face. He would let his head fall back in pleasure, eyebrows knit with sensation, lips slightly parted. Now, though, there's no camera to pan. You are here. This is real. And his powerful hand is pushing your mouth onto his cock.

A sound you can't control comes out of you. Your back arches, your hands flail, and then by pure instinct they're on his belly, pushing against him, away from him. Spit runs down your chin, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand. "I'm sorry," you say, looking anywhere but at his face. "I'm sorry, I can't, I thought I could do this but I can't."

There's a horrible darkness in his voice. "I already gave you the money."

"I know, I'll give it back, I'm sorry." The words trip over each other on the way out of your mouth. "I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have, I just, I thought I could..."

His hand is on the back of your head again, and this time his fingers are curled tight into your hair. He jerks your head back, forcing you to look at him, and his eyes are cold and predatory. "I'm not interested in returning what's already bought and paid for." He jams himself back into your mouth.

You always imagined yourself savoring it, taking your time to explore every inch of Jason's length with your tongue, but there's no time for that now. The veiny, throbbing thing in your mouth bypasses your tongue entirely, forcing past your uvula. You gag, then gag again. Your stomach churns and you convulse as your body tries to remove the foreign object, but the man just pushes harder. Your eyes water as he slides deeper, deeper, making your throat bulge, your limbs spasm. As his balls touch your chin, you close your eyes and try to relax your throat.

He holds you like that. You gag for a third time, and thick saliva explodes through the gaps around his cock, dripping down your chin and collecting in a long, dangling rope. Tears roll down your cheeks as you try to acclimatize to the feeling, try to convince your body that nothing is wrong. You think you've got it, and then he moves slightly, and you're gagging again. He groans, grips your head tighter, and in the back of your throat you feel his cock swell slightly. He likes it when you gag for him, says a voice in the back of your mind. The motion is pleasurable for him.

You've got another problem rearing its head. You can't breathe. It was fine at first, but the man shows no interest in freeing up your airways, and in all the gagging and crying, you haven't exactly been conserving your oxygen. You pat his leg, trying to signal to him, but all he does is clap you on the side of the head. Your ear rings, you gag again, and his cock throbs. Black walls are closing in on your vision. The effort of struggling against him becomes too much, and your arms fall to your sides. Your eyelids flutter. You're going to pass out. You're going to pass out, and then what will he do to you?

But just before the world fades to black, he pulls your head back again. You feel every inch of his cock as it slides out of your throat. He lifts your face, and your eyes struggle to focus on his as you take lungful after lungful of glorious air. Drool spills across your lips, but you don't care. You're alive.

The man slaps you hard, leaving a stinging impression of his palm on your cheek. You whimper. Two of his fingers are in your mouth, pushing on the back of your tongue. Not knowing exactly why, you close your lips around them and shut your eyes.

"That's better," he says.

The first time you saw a male sex toy in use was in an ad before a porn video you were watching. You were taken aback by the way the performer had pounded it over his cock, barely more than an extension of his hand. You're reminded of that image as he parts your lips again, and the rape of your throat begins in earnest.

You haven't thought about Jason Meier in years, but at this moment he's the only thing keeping you sane. As your face rams up and down, up and down, you retreat to that beat up convertible, and Jason's soft, thoughtful face. As the man tightens his grip, Jason runs his fingers through your hair. As the man grunts and growls with pleasure, Jason coos your name. With each stroke of his cock down your throat, each spasm of your body, you focus on a different part of Jason's body: his large hands, his long fingers, his shoulders, his jawline, his liquid brown eyes. By the time the man finally releases your hair, you can barely feel your body any more. The convertible is far more real than the squeaky motel bed. The hands on your body are Jason's, soft and tender.

He climbs over the center console straddling you. You lock lips, feel your tongues in each other's mouths, kiss so deeply that it feels as though you share the same breath. He pulls the lever to lay your seat back, and then he's over you, on top of you, lifting your skirt, pulling your panties to the side.

This is the part where, in the old days, you would have slipped a finger or two inside yourself. But this time you don't have to. This time you can feel him inside you, really feel him, and he fills you up like your fingers never could. There's some pain—they told you there'd be pain, didn't they, your first time—but it falls away to the thrill, the lust, the pleasure. Jason whimpers as he slides into you, deeper, deeper, and you moan into each other's mouths as his pelvis meets yours. You take a moment to savor it, breathing each other in, and then he begins to thrust.

You feel drunk. It's exactly like you always imagined it, and somehow better than you could ever have expected. Each movement of his hips brings another sensation: a spasm in the arches of your feet, a hitch in your breath, a churning, swirling need in the depths of your abdomen. Deeper you tell him, harder, and he obliges, pulling you into him, and him into you.

You can feel the orgasm building, but it isn't like any you've had before. Every time you've ever cum, you've been in control. This time, Jason is in control. Jason decides when you cum, how you cum. One hand supports his weight as he leans over you, and the other slides up your belly. You used to watch those hands obsessively. The way he held a pencil, the way he bit his knuckles when he was thinking. Now that hand slides up, caresses your breast. Now that thumb brushes your hair out of your face. Now those fingers close around your throat.

You know you're safe with Jason, but the pressure on your throat triggers some animal fear response in you. You try to squirm away, but his arm is strong, and his hand his firm. Your hands go to his wrist. "I don't like that, stop." He just smiles. It isn't his usual sweet smile, either. This one is cruel. Predatory.

Your face feels tight. Your eyes bulge. You're beginning to panic for real now. "Jason, seriously, stop!" You beat at his arm with your fists, but he easily takes both your wrists in one hand and pins them over your head. You try to kick at him, but he's already past your defenses, between your legs, pushing them uselessly apart. His grip tightens, his rhythm increases, his cock swells inside you. He's getting off on this.

All at once you're back in the hotel room. The man's sweaty red face is inches away from your own, and the lust in his eyes is obvious. His cock seems to push deeper with every thrust, and the horrible thing is that the orgasm is still coming. It's close now, you can feel it, and it's like he knows exactly how to bring it out. You feel floaty, tingly, and that awful pleasure is welling up inside you, a pot about to boil over...

"That's right," he says, his eyes locked on yours. "That's what I was waiting for. That perfect mix of...pleasure...and...fear." He punctuates each of these last three words with a long, deep thrust, and it's these that send the orgasm spilling over. A choked moan pushes itself out of you as your back arches, your toes curl, your legs wrap involuntarily around his waist, tears roll down your cheeks. That floaty feeling has combined with the orgasm to create something like how you imagine heroin must feel; a wave of mind numbing, soul deadening ecstasy. Your insides feel hot, and at first you think that must just be what it feels like when you cum from sex, but then you see the look on his face and realize that he's cumming too. His grip relaxes and he pounds away a few more times at your now-limp body. You stare at the ceiling as he moans, buries his face between your tits, pumps round after round of his warm, thick cum into your cunt, your womb. After one final push he collapses onto you, his cock still inside you, his bulk crushing you into the bed. You don't move.

He strokes your cheek. Fondles your nipple. Kisses your neck. Then he kisses your mouth, his tongue pushing your lips open, his breath like damp earth. You barely see him.

It must be almost ten minutes before he finally gets up, his limp cock sliding out of you at last. You can feel his cum dripping from your cunt as he puts on his underwear, then pants, then shirt, then shoes. "The room is paid for the night," he says with his hand on the door handle. "Thank you for struggling. Taking someone's virtue is so much better when you actually get to take it.

You don't respond.

You don't know how long you lie there, motionless, dripping cum. Oddly, the man who just raped you isn't the one burned onto your mind's eye. Try as you might to return to that sweet teenage fantasy, all you can see is Jason Meier as he held his hand to your throat, and that cruel, predatory smile on his face.

[obaex]

the three times duke tried to tell you something - rafe cameron

summary: rafe's dog duke starts acting differently towards you, clearly trying to tell you something that you and rafe can't seem to figure out on your own.

word count: 1.2k

a/n: short, fluffy and sweet! forever loving soft rafe ♡

The first time, Rafe noticed before you did.

It wasn't unusual for Rafe's eyes to follow you as you walked through the house, drinking you in as you wandered past him to the kitchen or back to bedroom or onto the back porch as he tried to focus on his work, fingers itching to pull you into him and toss his laptop to the side. What was unusual was his dog, Duke, following you everywhere you went.

He couldn't put a finger on when it started, but suddenly it was like you had a second shadow, Duke following your every move, his eyes trained on you or sitting patiently at your feet whenever you were stationary.

You didn't notice until you were coming out of the shower and nearly stepped on him as he sat, waiting for you just outside the shower door. "Oh! Geez, Duke! You scared the heck out of me" you said, leaning down to pat his head, much to his enjoyment.

"Hey, have you noticed that Duke has been following me around?" you asked Rafe. As if for emphasis, Duke exhaled loudly where he sat nearly on top of your feet as he looked up at you with his puppy dog eyes.

Rafe smiled and leaned over to look at his dog, "You lookin' after our girl, Duke?" Duke licked his hand in response.

The second time, Rafe was on the mainland for the day and you were walking to get the mail, Duke firmly by your side, when your neighbor who was jogging stopped to talk to you. "Hey, Y/N! Good to see you! Having a good summer?" he asked.

He tended to be a little flirtatious so you tried to keep your answers curt and casual, but before you could answer Duke growled at him. You looked down in shock to see his teeth bared, his eyes fixed on your neighbor. He normally had such a sweet and loving disposition, you couldn't remember him ever being aggressive. You were almost embarrassed as you whispered "Duke!" in surprise. He looked up at you innocently before returning a narrowed gaze to your neighbor who was edging away from you both before he took off running again.

"Duke growled at Sean today when he stopped to talk to me" you told Rafe later that night. "I swear, Rafe, something has gotten into him, I've never seen him act like that before."

"Is Sean that guy that's always hitting on you?"

"Rafe..."

"Good boy, buddy!" he said, leaning down to scratch Duke behind his ears and getting a bark in response before Rafe pressed a kiss to your cheek.

It was all fun and games for Rafe until later that week the two of you were in the kitchen making dinner and listening to music. Rafe pulled you into his arms to dance with you. He nuzzled into your neck, pressing soft kisses there and tracing them up your jaw to land on your lips, catching your smile with his own. He kissed you softly and slowly as his hands traced down your waist, and then he began to tickle you, eliciting a squeal and a giggle from you as you tried to wiggle out of his grasp. Duke was on his feet and barking immediately, nudging himself between you and Rafe, and nipping at Rafe's ankles, finally causing him to drop his arms.

"Duke! Buddy! It's okay!" he said, putting his hands up in front of him in surrender as Duke stood protectively in front of you.

Rafe looked up at you, "Okay, maybe I'm starting to see what you're talking about..." he trailed off, looking down at his dog "...and I thought I was protective, what's gotten into you, huh?" Duke looked from Rafe to you and back again and barked once like he was trying to say something, both of you looking at each other in confusion.

That weekend you were curled up on the couch watching a movie, snuggled in Rafe's arms. Duke had been lying on the floor at your feet when he propped his head over the side of the couch and onto your lap.

"Hey, good boy" you whispered, running your hand over his head absentmindedly before returning your attention to the movie. He didn't give up. He nudged his cold, wet nose into your hand, into your lap, nuzzling you further and further.

"Okay, okay" you said, thinking he wanted more pets, and giving him more attention. But he was unrelenting, his entire head now resting in your lap. "Rafe, look at this. He's never this cuddly" you said as Duke came to rest his head nearly on top of your torso at this point, where he finally sat still, eyes looking up at you intently as you continued to pet him, now with your full attention.

"What is it, buddy?" you asked.

He nuzzled into your torso one more time for effect.

And that's when the lightbulb went off in your head.

"Oh my god" you said, suddenly.

"What is it?" Rafe asked, pausing the movie and sitting up quickly at your tone.

"Oh my god" you said again, popping off the couch as you ran down the hallway, Duke hot on your heels.

"Sweetheart? Sweetheart! What's wrong?" Rafe said as he got up to follow you both.

You had shut yourself in the bathroom and Rafe began knocking frantically on the door. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

Silence.

"Babe, you're freaking me out. Are you okay? Please just tell me you're okay?"

"H-Hold on" you said, your voice shaking.

Rafe jiggled the doorknob, his heart in his throat. "Babe, please don't make me break this door down."

You didn't respond and Rafe let his forehead fall against the door, eyes resting on the dog sitting next to him who was pawing the door helplessly.

The minutes ticked away before, quietly, the lock clicked and you swung the door open. You had tears in your eyes and Rafe immediately cupped your face in his hands. "Babygirl, what is it, what's wrong?"

You moved to hold up your hand that held a small plastic stick with a digital window reading one word that sent Rafe's heart into a maddening flutter: Pregnant.

"What?" Rafe whispered in disbelief as he took the stick from your hand.

"Babe, are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?" he said, a smile already breaking across his face. You gestured behind you at two other sticks on the counter, nodding and smiling as tears rolled down your face.

"You're having our baby?" he asked breathlessly, "I'm gonna be a dad?" The realization crashed over him as tears welled in his own eyes and you nodded vigorously.

"We're gonna have a baby!" he said, scooping you into his arms as he peppered kisses relentlessly on your cheek and forehead, finally finding your lips and searing them with a kiss that was so sincere and soft, overwhelmed with emotion.

You could feel him breathing heavily against you as you laughed and cried together, the moment broken only by Duke barking at your feet, jumping up, wanting to be a part of the action.

taglist: @surftrips, @ietss, @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @sweetestdesire, @softcoremaybank, @diary-of-jj, @m-indkiller

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Sibling Rivalry {3}

Pairing: F1 drivers (platonic) x fem!reader Summary: The rift you have caused comes to a destructive head when summer breaks is over. Warnings: 18+ only, lots of bad language, crash, injuries, angst WC: 2.9k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three

Summer Break “I really fucked up.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, the sound hoarse from all the crying. You were curled up on your side on the couch in Pierre’s apartment in Milan, your head on his lap as his hand ran up and down your arm in comfort. “He’s never going to forgive me.”

“He’s your brother, he’ll forgive you,” he assured you once again. “I’ve said way worse things to my brothers. Maybe this break is exactly what you need, get away from Max for a few weeks, have some space.”

“And Lando, and Charles.” You groaned as you rolled onto your back and stared up at your closest friend. “You have a bear in the cave.”

“Gross, don’t look up my nose,” he said as he pushed you off his lap.

“I can’t help it, it’s the angle,” you laughed as you sat up before sobering. “Have you spoken to them?”

“Lando was heading back to Monaco to spend the holidays with Luisa, and Charles was on his way to the Alps to meet up with Charlotte.” 

You sighed at the mention of their girlfriends and Pierre gave you a look of pity that you resented. Pulling your phone out, with the determination to move on from the silly crushes that had developed over the years, you opened the Raya app and shifted closer to him. “Can you help me?”

“Sure,” he said, taking the phone and locking it. “I’m taking you on a road trip.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Ah, but I think it’s what you need.”

Round Fourteen - Netherlands You reunited with the team for Max’s home race and a sea of orange filled the stands, all cheering for their Lion. You had tried to talk to him when you arrived at the track but you didn’t know what to say to repair the rift you had made. Every time you opened your mouth, nothing came out.

“That one’s for you,” Lance said as he tapped your elbow.

“Huh? What? Yeah, totally,” you rambled trying to recover from zoning out thinking about the three weeks of silence, not only with Max but Lando and Charles too. You had sat beside the Canadian on the sofa, the furthest point from the others and it hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Sorry, what was the question?”

“You look like you enjoyed your vacation with Pierre. It was quite different to how you usually spend your down time.”

“Because I was sober?” you teased. “My liver needed a break, as did my PR team, and it was really quite fun. Exactly what I needed actually and it was great to reconnect with Pierre since he upgraded to Yuki.”

You could feel three sets of eyes on you from the other end but then the conversation was diverted their way and you sagged back into the couch. That was until you heard the news that the holiday had been dubbed ‘break-up season’. Both Spaniards had become single in the first week, Logan and Lando in the second and Charles in the third. It had been quite the shock to their fans.

If Pierre hadn't removed your social media for the break you would have known all of this but instead you had to find out on stage with dozens of cameras capturing the surprise on your face. 

The second the interview was over you chased after Lando and finally caught up to him at the McLaren motorhome.

“Hey, can we talk?” You were aware that there were still plenty of cameras around, and it looked like the Netflix crew were scheduled to his team too. “Somewhere private.”

He didn’t exactly look happy at the request but his eyes softened as you quietly begged, “please, Lan?”

“In here,” he sighed, taking his cap off and running a hand through his hair as he opened the door to his room. The door clicked shut behind you and you looked around the small space, the air still humid and smelling like his body wash from the shower he took before the media conference.

“How was your break?” you asked as he sat down on a padded bench, leaving the more comfortable chair for you.

“Could have been better.”

There was a pregnant pause where you both waited for each other to speak. It wasn’t like him to be so short and you thought more would follow but he just stared back at you. 

Clearing your throat, you looked down at your hands on your lap. “I, uh, wanted to apologise for what I said to you. You were just being a good friend and I was a complete bitch.”

“You were a bitch,” he stated bluntly before he bit his lip and mouthed a silent, ‘sorry’ and tucked his knee up so he could rest his cheek on it.

You huffed a laugh of agreement. “I’ve heard that once or twice. I’m a work in progress, but I’m trying to change. Can you forgive me?”

His head lifted with a frown, his soft curls falling over his forehead to meet them. “What? No.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t expected everything to go back to how it was but you had thought he would at least accept your apology. Rising from the chair, you started to make your way to the door until you heard the vinyl bench squeak as he followed.

“Wait,” he said as he caught your hand reaching for the handle. “You were right. So there’s nothing to forgive.” He tugged your hand so you turned to face him before he let it slip through his fingers. “I was unhappy, and I probably should have broken up with Luisa a long time ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I guess I just didn’t want to be alone again. Which, after you left, I realised is a poor reason to be in a relationship. So I really wasn’t up for offering advice. ” He smiled sheepishly and opened his arms. “Forgive me?”

You stepped into his embrace and buried your head in his neck with a nod. “You were right too.”

“About what?”

“Everything.” You were reluctant to leave the comfort of his arms but there was still one other person to apologise to. “I owe you and Charles for saving my ass. How about dinner at my place on Tuesday?”

“I mean, it was mostly me,” he joked as he puffed his chest up and pushed his shoulders back. “But we can invite him too, I guess.”

“Of course, my hero,” you swooned sarcastically before leaning in and kissed his cheek. “See you next Tuesday. See what I did there?”

“There’s my Spitfire,” he laughed and shook his head. “For a moment I thought you were gone.”

Max’s motorhome was empty when you reached it and so was the garage but his engineer, Calum, was there and said Max had gone to visit family. It hurt more than you expected to hear that you hadn’t been invited, especially since it was Jos’ side of the family that lived in the Netherlands. The side of the family you shared with Max. 

That pain followed you as you wandered around the paddock a little lost, signing autographs and stopping for photos with fans on autopilot. You didn’t know where to go, or how to fill the hours until Max returned. Then when he returned you weren’t even sure he would want to see you after what you said.

“Hey, I’ve called out like three times,” Charles said as he suddenly appeared in front of you and frowned at your startled reaction. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, no, sorry, I’m in a world of my own,” you said as you looked around to see you were outside Ferrari hospitality. “How, uh, how have you been? I meant to call you over the break and thank you for what you and Lando did for me.”

“It’s no problem, but it was mostly me.”

“Funny, he said the exact same thing,” you smirked. “Anyway, as a thank you, you two are coming to my place for dinner on Tuesday. I promise I won’t give you food poisoning, this time.”

“Well, that’s something to look forward to,” he said sarcastically. “But Tuesday works for me. Where were you heading anyway? I thought you would be with Max.”

You couldn’t hide the wince on your face at the mention of your brother and Charles reached out and rubbed your shoulder with a look of concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine. I actually need to go do a thing,” you lied as you started to feel the increasingly familiar burn of tears in your eyes.

“Chérie, wait.” Charles made to follow as you backed away but he stopped when you shook your head.

“Fuck,” you swore under your breath as you turned your back and wiped your eyes. It was race week and your emotions were all over the place, it was a recipe for disaster. 

Race Day

You threw your phone across the room and watched it bounce off the couch before hitting the floor with a crack. You could worry about the broken screen later, with the race only an hour away and Max still ignoring you there were more pressing things to think about.

You worked through your warm up routine under the watchful eye of your physiotherapist before making your way to the reflex machine. The lights danced across the buttons and you slapped each one with precision until it suddenly clicked off. 

“You’re not focused,” Kristian tutted.

“I hit them all,” you argued as you caught the bottle he threw to you and took a drink.

“Reacting out of habit is not the same as responding by reflex. You need to think, then do, not just do.”

You grumbled under your breath about what a load of crap it was but made a show of the next round before he gave up with a sigh. “I’m going to head down to the grid,” you said as you grabbed your helmet and balaclava. “Pierre can help me finish up.”

It was easy to spot Pierre with his PT, his concentration solely on the tennis balls he was focused on catching before they hit the ground. 

“Mind if I butt in?” you asked as you took the tennis balls and replaced Ben. “He still won’t talk to me.” You dropped the balls at the same time and he easily swiped them from the air before tossing it back into your palm.

“You can take my spot for the anthem, I think I saw my name next to his on the seating chart.”

“That’s probably not a good idea,” you admitted as you dropped the balls one after another trying to trick him. “I called him a dick, twice.”

One ball bounced along the asphalt when he laughed, missing the easy catch. “That’s the opposite of apologising.”

“I know, he just pissed me off.” You caught sight of the race suit that matched yours and watched him walk on the far side of the grip with Charles. “I don’t like being ignored.”

Pierre grabbed the wayward tennis ball and returned to hold them up over your hands. “You did start that by ignoring him first.”

“I thought we were friends.” You caught the ball he dropped and tossed it at his face. “You’re meant to take my side.”

He caught it before it could connect with his nose and crossed his arms with an amused smirk on his face. “I am your friend, so I will tell it like it is. Go talk to him.”

 You narrowed your eyes at him as you stepped away and he nodded encouragingly as you made your way across the home straight. 

“Not now,” Max said as soon as you stepped into his field of vision, making Charles look over his shoulder. 

“Then when?” you asked. “After the race? Next week? Next year? Should I put my name up for a transfer? Is that what you want?”

“Woah, what's going on?” Charles asked as watched you grow increasingly more upset with each question.

“Nothing, just an inchident,” Max said coldly. “Oma sends her regards and she’s sorry she didn’t get to see you.”

“You didn’t fucking invite me,” you growled as you stepped closer jabbed a finger into his chest.

Max rolled his eyes and schooled his face to one of boredom. “You told me to leave you alone.”

Your hands balled into fists at your side. “You are such a fucking asshole.”

“Hey, hey, that’s enough,” Charles interrupted, pushing himself between you and your brother before you could get disqualified. “Walk with me.”

Charles stepped closer and his hands grabbed your shoulders, turning you around before one hand pressed against the small of your back, urging you to keep moving. 

“What’s going on?” he asked as he took a seat against the pitwall and pulled you down beside him. “And don’t say it’s nothing. You haven’t been yourself all week.”

“We had an argument and now he hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.” Charles draped an arm over your shoulder and pulled you closer to kiss your temple. “He’s your older brother, he could never hate you. Trust me, there’s nothing Arthur could say that would make me hate him.”

“Arthur’s too nice to say anything mean, but me? I’m a bitch.”

“You’re not a bitch, you’re just passionate.” He let his head fall back against the wall with a chuckle. “I like that about you.”

“You must be the only one.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he murmured quietly and you followed his line of sight to Lando who was making his way over while everyone else started to move to the front of the grid. “Time to go.”

Charles stood up as Lando offered you his hand, pulling you to your feet.

“Try not to get too excited hearing the Dutch anthem,” you grumbled, earning a laugh from both of them as they fell into step either side of you, “again.”

You were driving recklessly, determined to beat Max, but it had meant receiving a black and white flag warning for exceeding the track limits three times. One more violation and you would get a five second penalty, practically handing the win over on a silver platter.

“You need to manage your tires,” Nicholas warned over the radio. “You are pushing them too hard, the degradation rate is exponential. They won’t last to the end of the race unless you slow down and stay between the white lines.”

“I can’t slow down when I have Max with DRS behind me.”

“That’s not the plan. We want a 1-2 finish, it doesn’t matter who leads across the line.”

“It does to me.”

You passed the next DRS detection line and took the corner at speed before hitting the straight and trying to defend your position. Max was right at your bumper, riding the slipstream as he increased speed in preparation to slingshot out and past you. 

Only something went wrong.

Instead of going around you, Max’s front wing crashed into the back of your car, lifting your rear wheels off the track and sending you scraping the length of the pit wall while he spun out. Debris hit your helmet as Max’s car slammed into the concrete barriers and carbon fibre splintered apart, raining over you and the track. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you growled into the comms as you pulled your steering console out and unbuckled the harness. You jumped over the side of your car and ran towards Max’s, hurling abuse at him the entire way. “Who’s the spoiled brat now? You just couldn’t let me have the win could you? Dick!”

A pained groan was all you heard from the cockpit and the anger evaporated in an instant as dreaded fear replaced it. You leapt onto the top of the car and reached over the halo, pulling the visor up on Max’s helmet to see a dazed look in his icy blue eyes before they fluttered shut. 

“Max, I need you to open your eyes. Look at me, dammit!” you growled as you started to pull his harness open and looked around wildly, wondering when help was coming. “I’m sorry for everything I said. I don’t hate you, okay? I don’t hate you. You’re my big brother and I love you, so you have to stick around and be overprotective and piss me off for a very long time. So open your fucking eyes!”

“Zusje?” he asked after a moment of blinking dumbly. “What happened?”

“You forgave me and said I could borrow your yacht.”

“Bullshit,” he groaned as he pushed his harness off his shoulders and accepted your hand to help him climb out. “I would never let you borrow my yacht.”

A groan wheezed out as his boots hit the ground and you wrapped an arm around his waist to take his weight, holding him steady. “Does that mean you forgive me?”

“Only if I can get a recording of your radio, you actually sounded worried for me,” he said with a laugh before he clutched his ribs. “Ow, fuck.”

“Of course I was worried, asshole. I thought you were hurt.”

“I am hurt,” he pointed out before rapping his knuckles on your helmet. “I love you too, little sis. Even when you say you hate me.”

Click here for Not A Verstappen: Gridlock {1}.

Tagging: @destourtereaux @severerebelearthquake @sunf1ower16 @octaviareina @omgsuperstarg @mvclff1 @alwaysclassyeagle @icantcomeupwithamusicalname-blog @laneyspaulding19 @booknerd2004-blog @mimimarvelingmarvel @chonkybonky

[moumouton4]

PLEASE DI THE FREINDS WITH BENEFITS WOTH ADRIAN/CAHT NOIR🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 IM SO INTERESTED. maybe Adrian and reader like have a thing going on secretly and get give each other longing glances, like a have lidded gaze or something. Please my Curiosity is getting the best of me

Friends With Benefits || Adrien Agreste x reader

A/n : This is something I've been thinkg about since I started writing fics ! I hope y'all will like it 😍 It's gender neutral but I had a female in mind when I wrote

Warnings : no mention of gender for reader, friends with benetifs, slight exhibitionism, shower sex, wall sex, piano sex ?, rough sex, soft sex, mention of erection, 18+ READERS ONLY and wrap it before you tap it

Masterlist ⚜

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Word count : 910

There is definitely something going on between the two of you. Though no one seems to have noticed for now. There is only Marinette who is suspecting you, but she suspecting everyone so you know she isn’t a threat

He introduced you as a childhood friend but in reality you’ve only known each other for less than a year

You met one day as he was on his way back home as he was still in his Chat Noir outfit. He still had some time when he spotted you, so he decided to try his chance and talk to you

To his surprise you were as interested as he was. And even if at first he was a bit wary about letting you discover his true identity, after some time and because of how horny you were you just couldn't resist but jump each other’s bones

Since that day you’ve been friends with benefits. He’d come to you after a long day as a hero in Paris to release that pent up energy or after whatever the hell he did either it was for school or for his work

He is addicted to you, and you to him. You see each other at least once a week, it’s usually three or four times a week. Either at yours or at his home

Depending on how tired you both are you’re either going to fuck like you’ve never before or cockwarm him. It really depends. Sometimes he is more into making some cocky and teasing jokes, resulting in some giggly sex. But it’s also most of the time so intense it leaves you both breathless

One of his favorite thing is having you nice and slow in his bed, but sometimes fucking you against the tiled wall of his shower is everything he needs to finish his day smoothly

He also takes you on his piano

You’re always careful not to leave any bite or purplish mark on his skin in places that aren’t covered with clothes

He is shameless about leaving some on you though. You’re his and even if people don’t have this detail, they will at least know you’re taken

Poor baby is bad at relationship but he still want you for himself

You guys had had sex in a lot of unusual places. Either on the top of historical monuments like the Eiffel Tower or the Arc de Triomphe but also on the roofs of buildings in the warm summer evenings. He’d set a blanket there and you’d cuddle some time before getting started

The tension between you two when you’re in the same room is unbearable, but since everyone think you’re friends, no one catch it

His eyes are always on you, piercing and following your every move as if he was in his cat costume. There is no part of you that is left unexplored. If your cleavage is in display his eyes are going to drown in between the tender flesh and if your pants leaves no doubt about the curves of your ass and thighs his eyes will be stuck on them too

If your sitting side by side his hand will surely caress your leg under the table

But most of the time - and since then you joined the class - the only thing he can do during those moments is to send you long and ardent gazes. You’re the only thing he is interested and attuned to at the moment

His eyes squint slightly as he gives you another longing glance. He feels so horny right now and the tent in his pants gives it all away. He has 45 more minutes to calm down before the end of the class

At the end of the class you go to your locker. Classes just ended and you just want to go home and lie down while chilling. The room is currently empty but behind you feel a hot breath grazing your neck. Then an arm circles your waist and draw you nearer

The smell of his cologne makes it clear for you that it’s Adrien. You lean against him and his strong arms hold you tighter

“‘missed you a lot in there” his fingers played teasingly with the help of your shirt “What about tonight 21:00 at yours ?” ( 21:00 = 9 pm )

“I’ll be waiting for you then” you whispered, so that if anyone was around they couldn't hear you

“I’ll be looking forward to this princess” he murmured before planting a quick kiss on the corner of your mouth

When you turned around he saw the smirk on your face “What is it about ?”

You pointed at the tent in his blue jeans

“Shoot !” he muttered “J-just get back home safely o-okay. I’ll take care of this” he looked around to be sure no one was in sight

“You sure ? I could lend a hand”

He blushed, shaking his head, he just knew that if you guys were to start something there you wouldn’t be finished at least an hour after the school closes “Yep I’ll be quick. See you later beautiful” he gave you a quick kiss before carefully making his way out and unnoticed of the locker room

At the end of the day ( pun unitented ) he got to your home 30 minutes earlier than intended

But it was all all the thrill of being his friend with benefits after all, a surprise was always hidden behind another

[belokhvostikova]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Tuesday was the development between you and Eddie Munson. Wednesday, peace finally seems plausible for the two hurt kids, and understanding becomes a valued aspect.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, yelling, crying, implications to verbal abuse, self deprecating thought, mentions of anxiety, bulling, parent abandonment, domestic abuse, and childhood abuse and neglect.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I've gone back to all my posts and tagged everyone for the tag list. Literally. If you commented, I tagged you. If you reblogged and remotely mentioned you wanted more, I tagged you. If you were not looking to be tagged, please let me know so I can remove you. Also, I sincerely apologize to anyone who I've accidently been excluding from the tag list, that was my mistake.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐕. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐲

There was no investment in moral quandary for him. Logicality. Everything had to be logical under the guise that all faults of the world had been facilitated by the emission of emotions that tainted the globe. 

Feelings were wrong. Sentiment was wrong. Empathy was wrong.

He believed it was such vulnerability that led to the downfall of his life- not that he’d ever verbally admit his life had crumbled right in front of him, but a pit within the deepest tunnel of his consciousness recognized it. Drilled it. Cemented it. He had chosen to blame the emotions of amenability for the reason why his wife came home at four in the morning with the familiar scent of the neighbor’s cologne. From there, he knew to get rid of it. Emotions. So when you sobbed, asking why mommy hadn’t been home for a couple of days, he said it was not worth crying over. When you had to stand in court upon a scary looking man in a robe and hear mommy agree to only seeing you every other weekend, he said to not worry and suck it up. And when mommy stopped picking up calls and seemingly “forgot” it was her day to see you, he said to get over it. But maybe it wasn’t too bad, right? He always said to be grateful that, at least, he stuck around. At the minimum, he always provided good take-out often, though you were quick to realize it was because he had no desire to cook for you. But, hey, he had always let you watch TV during dinner. Granted, it was because he never sat with you, and chose the comfort of the living room couch, where you could always see the history channel playing from the archway of the dining room where you sat lonely. It was then, you got a deep understanding of the Civil War. And at least his stoicism permitted a great hatred for the presuppositionalism that had infiltrated Hawkins, Indiana. That was good, right? Though, you were never one to define metaethics through divine revelation, so it kinda didn’t matter. But it could be worse. He always said he could be worse. That his choice to deprive you from any physical harm was somehow enough to garner him some merit as a parent. 

And maybe that was one of the underlying reasons as to why Eddie Munson scared you so much. He was like your father. And your father scared you. 

-

Mid week. The morning of spring Wednesday had been a groggily dawn of humidity and fog. Though no weather circumstance could derail the perfected routine of your father’s morning. Wake up, shower, brush teeth, make coffee. Black, no sugar. The bitterer, the better. Because that was by true definition strong. 

It was like clockwork. Every morning. Because routine leads to success, he's ingrained. It was the only reason why every summer break since you were a child he had you waking up before sunrise with intentions of appearing downstairs for two hours of study time with a tutor he spent hours meticulously searching for that fit his standards. One with saggy cheeks, thin eyebrows, a thick accent, and a bad habit of reprimanding you with a smack of a ruler whenever you humanly made a mistake. The worst thing that could happen in his eyes was watching his daughter slack because of relaxation over summer. Especially after he programmed you into perfection. 

But the unthinkable had occurred, and his routine was interrupted. 

Between 6:30 a.m and 6:45 a.m, your father was set—like everyday—to retrieve the morning paper, sit down, set the timer, and complete the crossword puzzle. Ten minutes. Nothing more. 

But by 6:33 a.m, Eddie Munson was nearly murdered by your father. 

Oh, his girl. Of course, there was his sweetheart, Eddie was damn near devoted to that warlock, but then there was his girl. Definitely not the everloving relationship he had with his sweetheart, I mean, he touched her, and the harmonious sounds from her strings could elevate the pain of his mind, but there was still no doubt that a sentimental part of his heart was dedicated to his girl. Rusted and cranking, the old van had been gifted to the young man after countless hours committed to Harry’s Auto Shop over the summer. And though her imperfections nearly had him pulling the roots of his hair out of his head weekly, she still managed to get him from point A to point B—not to mention, she looked totally sick and provided the best comfort place to spark up a joint or spend time with a pretty boy or girl whenever the opportunity came (it never did).

But besides that, the moral of the story is his van, his girl, was deeply cared for. 

Except for the occasions of last night. 

Because right now, your father was wrinkling the informative pages of the daily news with a tight grip of pure seethe, because some dirty, gross van had parked over the curb of his property and ruined the pristine, clean-cut, green lawn with muddy tire tracks.

-

You had heard it all.

The blaring alarm at 5:45 a.m, the running shower from your father’s bathroom, and the heavy steps of his feet descend into the kitchen.

Exhaustion couldn’t fathom the ache of your body, as the fluffy duvet beneath you held no substance to the stiffening floor underneath. Not to mention, the heavy sorrow of the events that had only occurred a couple hours prior were relying heavy in your mind, prompting the loss of true sleep, made only worse when Eddie’s drunken snores were echoing as a constant reminder that he was right there. 

Eddie Munson was in your bed- Eddie Munson was in your bed!

The ever so slight glimmer of the awakening sun was bleeding upon his sleeping figure, almost dead with no movement. He hadn’t shifted an arm or a leg, mouth still agape from his roaring slumber with a puddle of drool staining your satin pillow. You’d timidly approached the edge of your bed, knees scraping along the rough floor to reach his peaceful face. The disheveled bangs of his forehead had crumpled against themselves, shielding him from the oozing light through your window. 

This was the calmest Eddie Munson had been in weeks.

No lumps in the mattress, an actual comforter, the pungent stank of his cigarettes now replaced with the captivating vanilla scent of your perfume, which eased him into a comfortable sleep and an all too real dream where you were in his arms. It felt scaringly natural. 

There was a part of you that didn’t want to wake him. Whether it was because you could take an hour studying his pretty face, which led you to wondering how anyone could even fathom being so nasty to something so beautiful, or whether it was because that childhood anger and nestling vexation against a world that hated him was still deeply residing within Eddie, and you could easily fall victim to such hatred. It happened before, it could happen again. 

You rested your head against your bed, a slight alleviation to the malaise of the floor, and let his warm breathing fan across your face. The tips of your fingers benevolently stroked the unruly strands of his bangs away, to reveal the fluttering eyes of his face. You wondered what he could be dreaming of. 

You.

You were all he could think of. Awake and asleep.

“Eddie.” You softly whispered. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best choice given his hangover coma, but Eddie needed gentleness. “Hey, wake up.” You shook his shoulder. A pained groan prolonged far longer than you expected, as his face scrunched in a wince of a pounding headache. “Are you okay?”

That was too real for any dream. Eddie’s dry eyes snapped at the sound of your saccharine voice, suddenly realizing the devastating events that occurred last night. “Sh-shit!” He attempted to sit up, but your hand held his arm back.

“Shh, it’s okay.” You cooed, as he peered around frantically confused. He cracked his neck with a sharp turn, and his big eyes landed on you; once again, comforting him, as though he hadn’t put you through hell in the mere days he’s communicated with you.

His head fervently began shaking, as if to reject all that he’d done, as if everything he ever did you to was just a nightmare of his own fears, that he didn’t do what he did. But he did. And his eyes started welling up. “I-I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He choked. “For everything, I didn’t- I’m so fucking sorry-”

“Shh, Eddie-”

“I don’t want to scare you, and I’m s-sorry for doing it in the first place, I’m so so fucking so-”

“Eddie, just lay down, it’s okay.” You attempted to ease into him, as you lowered him down, his begrudgement leaving him hesitating until his back was flat against your bed. 

Once relaxed, it seemed his body and mind gave up on the restraints of his emotions, and his stream of tears came pouring with all dejection and regret of how everything had played out between you two. Eddie Munson hated himself. Hated who he was. Someone set up for the failures of life, he rejected anything that could steer him from a path of love and acceptance. And he hated that. He hated the life he had. At any given opportunity to go back in time, he would scream at his father, hit his father, just get him and his mother away from his father so that he could just grow up to be a normal person. A normal person, who could process their emotions and not deduce themselves into a nihilistic asshole. A normal person, who wouldn’t degrade the only person who’s held him without hurting him. A normal person, who would love you and cherish you as you deserved. Yet Eddie Munson hated his life and hated any momentous occasion that could possibly diminish the pain of life… like you. Because good things don’t happen to Eddie Munson, and you held so much power to hurt him.

Seeing his palms stab into his eyes, you gently held his trembling wrist to relieve him from the pain he believed he deserved. “Come on, Eddie, please stop.” You softly spoke trying to ease his hands away from his face. “Everything is okay, I promise.” 

“N-no, it’s not!”

“Shh!” You rushed out. “My dad’s awake downstairs.” You whispered.

“S-sorry.” He spoke so meekly, as his hands cleaned the staggering wetness of his eyes and cheeks. 

The atmosphere between you both fell stagnantly silent, as he tried to control his breathing through the tiny sniffles of his nose. He felt you staring, eyes boring into the side of his head, as he peered up at the dark ceiling. He couldn’t stand to look at you right now. He had just drunkenly sobbed and was now blubbering like a child, because of all the bullshit he just put you through. He was a-fucking-shamed. Ashamed of all he’s done. Ashamed of who he was. And you were seeing the worst of it. 

“Eddie.” He closed his eyes and shook his head no. “Please.”

He slowly turned his head and met your tired yet so fucking beautiful face. God, he could stare at you forever. How could he do this to you? Put you through off of that, just because he was scared. He fucking hated himself, and you could so clearly see the despise against himself in his saddened eyes. I’m sorry I am the way that I am, I’m sorry you have to put up with me, I’m sorry I’m here ruining your life. He didn’t have to say it, it was engraved on his face.

His heart almost lunged out of his chest when you crept closer, noses nearly touching, as your eyes engulfed him with a meaningful stare. “I’m really glad you came.”

“What?” You truly couldn’t have been, but your head nodded with the soothing confirmation he needed. 

“Yeah, I am.” You whispered. 

“You shouldn’t be.” He whispered. “What I did was awful.”

“I know.” You sighed. “I know, and please don’t ever do that again. But I’m still glad you came. Glad that we talked. Glad that I got to understand.”

“I wish I told you sooner… and better.” He pinched his eyes closed at the haunting memory. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to scare you, I’m so fucking sorry I did.”

“I know you are.” There was no “it’s fine” or forgiveness to offer, because he truly did cross a line that terrified you. But you could accept his understanding of the wrongdoing he did. Because acknowledgement was a valuable step in moving forward. 

“I just- Y/N, I just really want to be with you.” There it was. He was putting himself out there once and for all, risking it, because you deserved to know. The torment of his emotional unavailability was ending, because he was ready to face the adversity of his trauma to make you happy. But that was exactly the issue. You could see he was ready to do it for you. Not himself. And whatever was brewing between you and Eddie Munson would not magically dissolve the underlying issue within both of you under the guise that you both got together and skipped away into the sunset happily ever after. Reality was a harsh slap in the face, and you knew he’d hate it, but it was what was needed. 

“I just want you to be okay, Eddie.” You confided with a heavy bite of your lip. “I… want to be okay, Eddie.”

His eyes were glossing with threatening tears again. He knew what was coming. “You don’t wanna be with me.” He murmured. It was no question, but a simple truth he had to face. 

“No.” You spoke with deep conviction. “I don’t want to be with the person you are right now. I can’t be. Not now. It wouldn’t be right, and I just want us to be okay.” You brushed his bangs away. His lips began trembling, but he accepted your boundaries with a vehement nod to his head to let you know he understood. “Eddie,” you punctuated so it became cemented, “I don’t want you to do this again-”

“I won’t, I swear, I won’t drink-”

“No, Eddie… I don’t want you coming here. To my house. To see me.” You sighed, as his eyes desperately scanned your face for the off chance you’d say you were kidding and you wanted him over all the time. But your words continued. 

“I’m really fucking sorr-”

“I know you are, Eddie. I know.” A heavy breath from your chest escaped. “But I need time, and it may not seem like it now, but you need time, too. So I don’t want you calling. I don’t want you asking anyone where I am or how to talk to me. Not Chrissy, not anyone. Promise me.”

He agreed.

But Eddie Munson would break this promise. Not for some drunken, overbearing, emotional reason, though. But for good reason. All because your bedroom door slammed open.

Synchronized through driven fear, yours and Eddie’s head snapped at the sudden bust of your bedroom door, where your father stood effervesce with indignation of pure enragement at the sight of Eddie in your bed. 

“Get out of my house!”

“Dad, wait!”

Your words were not of care to your dad, as he shoved you onto the ground with a shriek of horror escaping your lungs, as he charged himself onto your bed. The shot of adrenaline had coursed out any inebriations from the night before, as Eddie went against the swelling pounding of his head to jump from the comfort of your sheets and tumble onto the floor.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Imprinted with the mud of his shoes, the pool of his drool, and now crumbled under the heavy weight of your father’s fall, the sanctity of your bed—the only thing that had caressed you through the hardships of your life, where you found solace in the safety of its soft cotton and silk, where your mother once cuddled you to sleep as she spoke of the future, I’m gonna lay your pretty prom dress right on the bed and watch you become so beautiful for your special night, where you cried yourself to sleep for countless night because she left you and she didn’t actually want to see you become so beautiful for your special night—had demised under the ruins of men who made you bawl your eyes out and made you feel so little about yourself. And maybe your bed being derelict was a cursory occasion to cry over, maybe it wasn’t; nonetheless, your eyes began to brim with the flooding tears of the overstimulated stress of an exhausted mind, dry eyes, and a splitting heart.

“Please stop.” Too quiet and airy for any big, angry, men to hear.

Because big, angry, men don’t care for the aching pain of the people they hurt. 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…” Eddie stumbled onto wobbly feet, planting the palms of his hands to stand himself away from your reaching father. “M’so fuckin’ sorry!” At that point, the directions of his words were either targeted to you or your father, you couldn’t decipher, and truthfully, you didn’t care to decipher. 

Your father managed to unravel himself from the hold of your blankets, stepping off with heavy stomps to follow Eddie around your room. “You better get out of my fucking house, I’m fucking calling the cops! How dare you fucking touch my daughter?!”

“Dad, please.” Weak, broken, unheard.

“I fuckin’ didn’t!” Eddie was fortunate enough to spot his beloved jacket, snatching it from the confines of your desk chair, where he was able to roll it out as an obstruction to your father’s determined path of strangling Eddie Munson. 

Because in the mind of a relentless resolute driven by all the wrong ideas because of the pain he so adamantly refused the face, Eddie Munson was the cause of your ultimate failure. Eddie Munson manipulated his daughter. Eddie Munson got his daughter suspended. Eddie Munson would be the reason your failure tainted the family name. 

Eddie pummeled through your door, coming face-to-face with the extravagant expanse of your home. Cold. Everything was freezing cold, from the temperature to the decoration. Deprived from any signs of life. As if it was a museum. His bulging eyes found the large staircase, and it truly amazed him how his feet found every step without thought, simply autopilot. There was a yanking urge that was demanding him to go back. Go back for you. Make sure you were okay. Make sure to clean your tears up. Once again, he was making you cry. Maybe not entirely his fault, but his being was partaking in your agony and he fucking hated himself for it. But the weighing steps of her father marching right on his ass prompted him to move forward. Your front door was swung carelessly, welcoming the hot air of the burning morning, where once again, the clean cut grass of the manicured lawn was falling victim to Eddie’s destruction of mucky shoes. Maybe drinking hadn’t been too bad of an idea—it absolutely was—as Eddie’s drunken state, at nine at night, had left his keys impaled into the ignition ready to go. 

The haggard van erupted to life, Eddie had never been so grateful to hear the god awful clunk that definitely needed to be checked out. Peer out once more, your wrathful father ran with a tirade of curses that condemned Eddie Munson back to hell, but the screech of his reversing tires interrupted his polemic. “Don’t you ever come back! You’ll be dead before your kind can even step foot into my fucking neighborhood!”

Eddie Munson would return back in eighteen hours. 

-

“There’s an old man sitting next to me…” Wayne softly chuckled, as the lyrics had been repeating out of his mouth for the entirety of his shift, after Rodney Nickelvich decided to play the voice of Billy Joel during break. 

It’d been a particularly difficult shift. His back wasn’t getting any younger, and the evident ache that decided to settle in the lower region was making it known. But the stiffness of his folding bed would alleviate enough, at least until his next shift. But that never came for Wayne Munson. Because the second—the literal second—his head managed to even briefly skim his flat pillow, the presence of his caterwauling nephew combusted through their front door with no regards for the tired old man in the living room. Eddie hadn’t even looked his way. A straight B-line to the phone. 

“And where the hell have you been?” Wayne groaned with prostration. “Comin’ in here like you own the place, have you lost your mind, boy?”

But there was no answer. 

Where Eddie would have normally spoken back with a clear answer of respect, there was nothing. No acknowledgement. 

“Ed.”

Already engraved into his mind like the chords to his guitar, Eddie punched the buttons to your number on the yellow phone. But then he stopped. “I need the time… I don’t want you calling.” But this was bigger than that, right? He needed to know you were okay. “Please don’t hate me.” He scrunched his brows in the burning pain of betraying your boundaries. Once again. His finger dialed the rest of the numbers. 

But it was dead. Not a ring. Not a buzz. Not a single indication that your phone was even ringing. Just a deadline. And Eddie’s heart sank to the deepest pit in his stomach. “Fuck!”

“Eddie.” Wayne’s face etched with concern. “What the hell is goin’ on?”

Eddie’s chest began hyperventilating with worry for you. “I-I… shit, I-uh… I really gotta get to school.”

Wayne sat up, now. Never in the decade he’s been in the care of Eddie Munson had that boy ever rushed out to get to school. Something was deeply wrong. But he couldn’t even hurtle a question of scrutiny, as Eddie had already slammed the door shut with his being gone, so deeply perturbed. 

-

Eddie was truly pissed off at this point. 

The entire proposition of arriving early to school was to find Chrissy Cunningham, but just as it occurred yesterday afternoon, the cheerleader was nowhere to be seen in the breadth of Hawkins High. He knew he was going against your wishes, quite specifically, but his heart and mind couldn’t fathom the possible danger you could be subjected to. He had too. Right? Would you just hate him more for interfering? God, he was shooting himself over the complication he construed the entire situation to become. Asking his friends had quickly been classified as the most imbecilic measure he’d ever succumb to, as those guys had never found the courage to conjure up an idea to jump start an actual conversation with an actual girl. Knowing where the head cheerleader was was beyond their source of knowledge. Yesterday’s clothes, dry mouth, red eyes, the residing ache of his hangover still tormenting his sore limbs, and now having no comprehension of whether or not you were safe at the aggressive hands of your father, Eddie was about to traject the heaviest waterfall of beer and bile onto the grimy floors of Mr. Hall’s carpentry class. But the shrieking bell unexpectedly pacified the turbulence brewing in his belly, and he was shoving passed visibly annoyed bodies to reach the cafeteria. His only chance. 

His overloaded mind didn’t even process the trouble he was walking into, but unwavering was Eddie Munson as he marched into the bustling cafeteria of crackling students and cardboard food, legs pushing him to the table. “Chrissy!” Heads snapped like automated robots. Yeah, he probably should have thought this out. Glares couldn’t even amount to the looks he was receiving from the highest of Hawkins High. This was no laughing matter, but the urge to not laugh at Jason Carver’s battered face left all self control out of Eddie, as the perfect comb-over paired with the purple swollen skin personified the magnificence of juxtapositions.

“You want something, freak?” Jason stood with a puffed chest.

“Look a little different, Carver, that new?” Eddie gestured to the contuse skin, smirking oleaginously. As if it was previously discussed, Andy McAvoy and Chance Williams stood to defend the precious honor of their friend. In Eddie’s mind, it pleased him to know a conversation of protection was ordered by Jason to his goons to preserve any remaining prettiness of his face. Prom was coming up. “Relax, I didn’t say your names, did I?” 

Eddie and Jason’s gaze looked down upon Chrissy, who’s brows were cinched with confusion and worry as to what was going to occur. Jason could only snicker incredulously. “She’s not speaking to you! You really think I’m gonna leave her with some devil worshiper like you? Why don’t you do this whole town a favor and fuck off with the circus, fucking basketcase.”

But Eddie was indefatigable to the insults of the perfectly pristine. They’d been propelled since childhood, the last thing to strike his ego would be the dense words of Jason fucking Carver. Eddie had bigger issues at hand. 

“That’s really cute, Carver, but she can make her own decisions, and right now,” Eddie locked eyes with a frantic Chrissy Cunningham, “we have something important to talk about.” It was imperative for Chrissy to understand, and the moment her eyes softened, a breath of relief escaped Eddie at her understanding. Your name was oozing importance. 

“Are you that fucking insane-”

“Jason,” Chrissy held his hand, “h-he’s right.”

“What?!”

A disgustingly pompous smile eased onto Eddie’s face.

“It’s, uh, it’s for, um, Mrs. Durberry.” Chrissy nodded. “I-I have to, uh, tutor Eddie. We, um, we discussed it yesterday during, uh, lunch. Yeah, during lunch!”

“During lunch.” Eddie smirked with a condescending nod. 

Jason huffed through flared nostrils, bending down to look Chrissy right in the eye. Though whispered in secrecy, Eddie rolled his eyes with agitation. “Are you sure about this? Is he just making you do this?”

“No, I promise.” Chrissy assured. “You know I aced chemistry, Mrs. Durberry is just trying to give me an opportunity to get community service hours, and tutoring was the perfect chance. You know it’ll look good for college applications.”

The lie was good enough to believe- not good enough to like, but good enough to believe, and that’s all Eddie Munson and Chrissy Cunningham needed. Jason sat down in defeat, the other players following in unison, as Chrissy gathered her items. “You try anything, Munson, and you're dead.” Jason pointed with a stern finger. 

Chrissy had quickly walked by, hoping Eddie would just follow, but of course, he couldn’t leave without the last word. “Right, right,” he slyly smiled, “might wanna put some ice on that, s’looking a little nasty. Who did that to you again?”

“Eddie.” Chrissy chastised.

Now, it was most abundantly clear that Chrissy Cunningham was not an indictment of the American education system, her grades almost as perfect as yours—though no one could come close to your precociousness—yet Eddie had to reevaluate his beliefs when Chrissy was marching vastly farther than anticipated. 

“Jesus Christ, Chris, y’know we don’t actually have to intrude Durberry’s class? She fucking hates me.” Eddie giggled. “‘Specially after I used the bunsen burner to light a joint. Kept asking “what’s that smell” for a week.”

Chrissy finally came to a halt after turning into another empty hall. “Sorry.” She sighed. “Just can’t have Jason following us.”

“Y’know, you could probably do better than some control freak who follows you around.” Eddie shrugged.

Chrissy blinked at her shoes in contemplation. Eddie hadn’t expected the words to hit so deeply, a mere critique to the numerous problems he found in Jason Carver, but nonetheless, the cheerleader got extremely quiet, before shaking her head to get back to the point. 

“A-anyways, um, what is it that you, uh, wanted?” She rushed out.

“Oh! Right, um, I need you to go to Y/N’s house.” His eyes widened, as his lips tightened between his mouth. He knew it was outrageous to ask.

“W-what?”

“Look, I know that’s a big ask-”

“I already gave you her number and address, why don’t you g-”

“I did!” He heaved. “I fucking did, and I messed up!”

Chrissy slumped,“Again?!” 

Eddie winced. Again, again, again, again, again. 

“Look, I “made” it to her house, and we got to talk. But her fucking dad caught me in her room, and just went haywire on me. Practically chased me out.” Eddie stressed. “And I-I tried to call her to make sure she was okay, I mean, it’d been a long night and she was crying when I left, and, fuck, Chris, I don’t know what her dad is capable of.” Is he like my dad? “Her line was dead when I tried, like off the hook, and I can’t go over to make sure she’s safe, Chrissy. I have to make sure she’s okay. Can you please just, I don’t know, do this for me, I’m fucking helpless here, I’m…” Helpless to my mother.

Chrissy was taken aback by the pure fear in his eyes as he rambled into oblivion. She knew you. She knew your father. She could only imagine how ballistic he’s gone in the past couple of days knowing what’s happened. “Okay, okay, okay, yeah, um, yeah,” Chrissy took a deep breath with a soft nod to her head, “Yeah, I’ll try to come over- but her dad’s really strict, Eddie. Like extremely, he’s the only reason why she’s so, you know, hard about her grades and stuff, I don’t know if he’d actually let me see her-”

“Please, please, just try.” Chrissy took notice of just how tightly his hands were balling into themselves, knuckles turning a blistering white from the lack of ease he was inflicting upon himself. “She’s your friend, and she doesn’t want to see me, so please, I’m begging you, Chris-”

“I will, Eddie, I will.” She reassured, as she adjusted her knit sweater that suddenly became itchy on her sensitive skin. “I just, um, I’ll probably have to come up with an excuse, a-and skip practice.”

“Look, m’sorry I’m dragging you into this, but I just need to make sure she’s okay, and maybe you can finally have a chance to talk to her about…y’know.” Chrissy shook her head quickly, acknowledging but not trying to think about her implicit endorsement to the status quo at Hawkins High, and how much it had hurt you. And she let it hurt you. “Just- you can’t tell her it was me who sent you, okay? Sh-she wants nothing to do with me, and I’m trying to respect that, I just need to know she’s safe, but she can’t know I sent you. I don’t- I don’t want to make her more upset, Chris. I can’t, I just-”

“Eddie,” Realizing the words were once again coming out a mile a minute, he bit his tongue, letting a bubble of air constrict his lungs with a fervent grip. He wasn’t about to cry. He couldn’t. Not here. Not at school. Not in front of Chrissy fucking Cunningham. Not that she’d judge much, she could already see the sheen of his eyes. “I’ll do it, I’ll check on her. A-and I won’t say it was you.”

His body was finally able to ease at her response, finally letting his airway release all tensions from the stirring anxiety that was still nesting in the crevices of his stomach. “Thank you, thank you so much.” His hands reached for her shoulders with a firm shake of acknowledgement, though his strength had her stumbling on her feet a bit. Not that he noticed. He was still worrying about you. “Just, uh, call me or something, the second she, uh- the second you know she’s okay.” Eddie didn’t want to think of the other possibility. The possibility where your father had laid a hand on you. Or worse. He wouldn’t know what to do. In his experience, silently crying and letting daddy take his frustrations out was the safest option. It was what mommy said to do, so dad wouldn’t do worse. At least ice cream was always promised at the end to make it all go away.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll do that.” She nodded in agreement. 

With the confirmation stated, Eddie had already begun walking away with a determined plan in mind to sit in front of the yellow telephone until the shrilling call came through. His mind dead set on you. 

“Wait!” Chrissy had to snap him back to reality. “Eddie, I don’t have your phone number.” She lightheartedly scoffed.

Chrissy Cunningham began to worry. Yes, about you. She was ready to march her way past your father in order to make sure you were okay, and to pour her heart out on a well needed apology just so you could understand how sorry she was. Even if you didn’t accept it. But she was also worried about herself. Never in a million years did she expect Eddie Munson, of all people, to show her what true feelings were. He hadn’t even talked to you for more than a week, and he was bending over backwards to ensure all his wrongs were corrected for your safety and comfort. Jason Carvered loved her, she knew it, but the subtle things were becoming pronounced. Do you really think you should be wearing that? My parents will be there. Just come to the party, I’ll look bad if my girlfriend’s not there. When she comes back, I don’t want you hanging around Y/N anymore. She’s bad news and betrayed your friendship by fucking around with that trailer trash. Don’t make yourself look bad by being friends with her.

“Shit, yeah, sorry, my, uh, my brains all over the place.” He crazily signaled with a swing of his hand. Unlike yesterday, Chrissy’s pink pen was tainting a small torn sheet of notebook paper rather than skin, as risking the chance of Jason Carver seeing Eddie Munson’s phone number written on her hand would prompt another outburst of fury between the boys. So as Eddie reiterated the numbers to his home, Chrissy copied with intent. 

Intent to see you. Intent to apologize. Intent to inform Eddie.

“Okay, I’ll call you as soon as I leave her place.” Chrissy assured, as the queasiness in Eddie had simmered but surely hadn’t left. He knew as soon as he got home, the consternation would eat him unalive. 

Eddie nodded his head. “Yeah, thanks again, seriously, I’ll owe you whatever.” He sighed, before his brows perked. “Oh! I can give a twenty percent discount!” He didn’t even have to specify. 

Chrissy Cunningham didn’t smoke. But at least he was trying. 

“Uh, s-sure, Eddie.” She simply agreed, and it was able to give him a satisfied smile. “Anyways, yeah, I’ll talk to you later. Just try not to worry too much, I’m sure she’s okay.” She inspirited. 

“Okay, yeah, as soon as you can.” Eddie sighed. “I’ll leave you to it, I’m gonna go throw up or something.”

-

Luckily, Eddie Munson didn’t vomit in the filthy stall that is the boys’ bathroom at Hawkins High, though Chrissy Cunningham sure felt like she was about to hurl today’s lunch and breakfast standing at the doorstep of your home. Her toes tensed in the comfort of her sneakers, hearing the incoming steps of your father approaching the door. Hands gripping the straps of her backpack, she was ready- well, as ready as one can be about to face their best friend’s—did she even have a right to call you that—daunting father. 

The door swung. “Hi, Mr. Y/L/N!” Smile, a bright smile and wave from Chrissy Cunningham was sure enough to get anyone to be polite. But his face plastered the same dead expression he’s had for the last four years Chrissy had known him. No smile. No squint of the eyes. Unemotional stoicism. 

“Hi, Chrissy.” Robots had more pep in their voices. “Sorry, but Y/N is grounded, for quite an extensive period actually, so she’s not allowed visitors. Go home.” He began to close the door, but Chrissy’s manicured hand abruptly stopped the closure. 

“Wait!” She immediately reeled back, seeing the disrespecting look take over his face. “Sorry, sir, I-I’m not here to hang out, it’s just, uh, I brought all the school work Y/N’s missed. You know, from her suspension?” She spoke sheepishly. “A-and well, we don’t want her falling behind, sir.” A nervous chuckle accompanied her faux parent voice. “In fact, Mrs. Durberry and I actually discussed tutoring, so, you know, Y/N is back on track by the time of her return.”

It was in regards to your grades, your father’s favorite. Chrissy Cunningham was a genius. 

“Really?” He questioned quizzically.

“Yeah!” Chrissy bounced on the balls of her feet with a firm pat to her backpack. “I’ve got all her work right here. She’s free to turn it in when she gets back, and you know, she’s firmly secured that valedictorian spot, so there’s no need to worry.” She smiled, and of course, of course, that’s all he cared about in the wake of your suspension. 

So easily had Chrissy been let into your home. She wondered what she would say to you, as she followed behind your father to your room. It was strange. Your home had always been a cold one, but your laughter and the endless sleepless sleepovers had the ability to bring warmth to such a colorless environment. But all that suffocated her was hostility. Long gone were the memories of an innocent friendship between the two girls. Another factor to consider was the mere fact that your father was guiding Chrissy. She’d been over to your house for years, the layout didn’t suddenly change over a couple days, and a nervous thump began upsetting Chrissy’s heart. And she found out why.

“Had to lock her up.” He uttered with no shame, as he pulled out a glowing key from his pocket. Haphazardly bolted on your door was a new lock, evidently cheaply and hastily done, as the lock resembled the numerous ones used for the lockers at Hawkins High, and the chipped paint and exposed wood could only insinuate the fury in which this job was done in. Your door lock, one onced used when you and Chrissy discussed the boys you thought were cutest at school in your pink pajamas, was now accompanied by a prison lock keeping you captive in your bedroom. “Should've seen the trash she was bringing in.” He muttered mostly to himself. Chrissy didn’t speak. She couldn’t speak. Too disturbed for her own wellbeing. “Do me a favor, kid,” he unlocked the door, “knock some sense into that disgrace.”

He walked away without a care.

The door creaked open, and Chrissy had taken a deep breath. Stepping inside, with a soft click of the door behind her, her eyes landed on the still figure on your bed. Turned away and engaging at the neverending nothingness of everything, you cocooned yourself in your blanket, like a hurt child. Because you merely were one. Chrissy looked away, inching tiny steps closer. Disheveled would be an understatement to the usual cleanliness of your room. Knick-knacks and personal items were thrown about, cracked, and broken, and damaged beyond the actions of someone who was depressed. No, this was the destruction of deep rooted anger. 

No expecting the company, you simply screwed your eyes closed with the awaiting words of hatred you thought would be coming from your father at any second. But it didn’t. Only the familiar softness of Chrissy Cunningham, your best friend. “Y/N…?”

You immediately jumped at the sound, meeting your reddening, wet eyes with Chrissy’s round, worried blue ones. “Chrissy…”

The occupying distrust you had for her was incomparable to the pain of what had occurred today. Yes, she hurt you. Yes, you lost your one true friend. But you needed her. And your arms opened like the broken child reaching out for help, and she immediately embraced you on your bed. Your bed, where you spent countless times giving each other at-home mani and pedis, even though your allowances provided enough for professional services, but this was more fun. Your bed, where Chrissy once vented about the first fight she ever had with Jason Carver, because he disregarded her at a party to do a keg stand—yes, it was trivial, but they were sixteen at the time. And your bed, where you both shared the vulnerability of losing a mother, either physically or emotionally, through sobbing tears and tight hugs, but none of that mattered because you were best friends and had each other. Forever. 

“Are you okay?” Her vision appeared blurry under the disorientating state of water welling in her eyes. “I’m so sorry for everything.” Chrissy stroked your hair. You couldn’t muster a word to respond with, merely silently crying into the junction of her neck, where she smelled of spring flowers. You’d picked out that perfume for her. Her seventeenth birthday. “I should’ve stuck up for you, I-I should’ve told everyone to stop, I’m so sorry I didn’t.”

Her apology suddenly revealed why you lost trust in her in the first place. Urgently pulling back from the hug far quicker than Chrissy would have liked, you brought your knees to your chest, letting your face find solace on the tiny space rather than her embrace. 

“What are you doing here, Chris?” You mumbled so quiet, she was barely able to register it from the chirping birds outside. 

“I came to apologize to you.” At least she wasn’t drunk. “I- Y/N everything I did to you was awful.” Her plucked brows furrowed with shame and remorse. You carefully picked up your head, as she gently held knee. “When everyone started saying stuff about you, I was so confused, and before I could even question it, Jason had me promise to not be around you, and I’m so sorry. I’m not trying to excuse what I did, I just should have known better, and I needed to apologize to you.” 

Your eyes had closed in relief. You were beyond the trenches of exhaustion, everything was so sore from the exertion of crying, that the simple apology brought the grand relief you’d been yearning for. “I-I think I need space away from Jason.” That had your eyes snapping open. Jason and Chrissy, in love since the tenth grade, becoming the embodiment of young love in Hawkins. Their parents had practically set up a future in which both attended the same university as young adults, and married each other with the expectation of kids by the age of twenty-five. 

“I don’t like who he is as a person.” She confessed with a wobbly lip. “ I know he loves me, but I love you, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

You took her back into a loving hug, where she fell limp in your arms, as her tears stained your clothes. Though muffled you spoke with a small whine, “You sound like Eddie.” Which had her giggling through tears. 

She had slowly pulled away, smiling at the small curve of your lips that was brightening your face. She wiped your tears, and caressed the hairs out of your face. “Yeah, he’s kinda my new friend now.” She shrugged. “Even offered me a discount to his… business.”

You laughed with a roll to your eyes. “Quite the entrepreneur he is.” She snickered in agreement. “But yeah, I could tell when he came to my house yesterday.”

“Oh, god.” Chrissy plopped back on your bed. “How did you even figure out it was me, you’re so smart?” 

You giggled, joining her, as you stared up at the ceiling. “Seeing someone like Eddie Munson show up with pretty pink writing on him doesn’t seem like something that occurs innately in nature. Figured you had something to do with it.”

“I’m sorry for that, too.” She turned to look at you. “I shouldn’t have given him that information without asking you. He just really wanted to apologize to you, too, and it seemed like the right thing to do. What even happened?” She sat up to get serious.

You couldn’t fathom retelling the occurrence of what happened, so you merely opted for the safest choice, and nodded your head in silence. “He did apologize, just wish he would have done it differently.” You sighed. “And, uh, my dad-” Your throat had automatically constricted at the simple mention of him, eyes tightening with the hopes of suppressing the whirlwind of tears that were about to flood your face. “Chrissy, he wouldn’t stop yelling.” You began bawling, as she pulled you up to wrap her arms around your shrinking body. “H-he kept screaming a-and shouting, then he just- he just started throwing things-” Chrissy could only rock you body, gently and softly, letting your tears hit her shoulder with all might. “I was so scared.”

The dreaded question. “Did- did he hit you?” Chrissy spoke into your hair, terrified of how you might answer. But luckily, the tiniest bit of luck, you had shook your head no, and she let out a deep breath. But the harsh slap of reality was that your father had still severely crossed a line that put you in an unsafe environment. And you were petrified. 

“He’s not letting me leave my room.” You whispered through sniffles. 

“Did he take your phone, Edd-” Chrissy contemplated for a second, before she spoke extremely softly. “Eddie said you didn’t pick up when he tried to call you after what happened.”

“He tried to call me?”

“Just to make sure you were okay.” She emphasized. “He said he’s trying to respect your wishes of wanting space, but after what happened, he just needed to know you were safe… that’s why- that’s why I’m here.” Your brows furrowed and you immediately sat up. “I’d been wanting to apologize to you, and Eddie had been dying to make sure you were okay, so he asked me to come check on you, and so I could finally say sorry to you. He- Y/N, he really cares about you. We both do.”

This was the bit of progress you were wanting to see. To know that the Eddie Munson you met Friday afternoon, the one who coward away at the mere idea of feelings and compassion, the one who uttered the vile words that stabbed right through you, the one who shouted in defense because he was hurt, that that wasn’t him. It wasn’t who he wanted to be. It wasn’t who he truly was. But a recovery from trauma was not a linear progression, and last night you were able to understand the fluctuations of Eddie Munson, the reason why he berated and hurt, the reason why he comforted and protected, the reason why he wailed and sobbed. 

“Chrissy, when’s the next time you’re gonna see him?” You cleared your face from staining tears.

“I’ll see him at school tomorrow, but he asked me to call him to make sure you were safe first.”

You nodded. “I, uh- can you actually ask him something for me?”

-

That one clunking noise Eddie had once been so happy to hear? Yeah, he’s returned back to detesting it, as he felt it drew so much attention to the all too quiet streets of Pinecrest Acres. He made the conscience—and sober—decision to park behind the gray De Tomaso Pantera—fighting the urge to just pop the hood and look at the beauty inside—that resided two houses down from yours. It gave him enough coverage away from any view of your father. Eddie was terrified. Much to his dismay, Chrissy had been fairly vague over the phone when she rang him at 5:59 p.m exactly. Luckily by then, a buddy of Wayne’s had taken him out to an early dinner before their shift at the plant, so his uncle missed out on the Olympic-worthy run Eddie had made to the phone the second it began ringing. And Chrissy had spoken. A lot. But so little at the same time. He was happy to hear you guys made up. Truly he was. But Chrissy had carried on for a five minute tangent about how gladly you accepted her back into your life again. Eddie Munson was honestly jealous. Though she had mentioned how you specified wanting time away from her, too, maybe meeting up to speak that coming Monday at school when your suspension would be over. Eddie had wondered if you would speak to him then, too. But he didn’t have to wonder much longer. After he so kindly told the cheerleader to get to the point, the real point he wanted to hear, she had assured him that you were okay. Physically, at least. Eddie had dropped to his kitchen chair with a breath of relief that no one had touched you. But then Chrissy kept speaking. She wants to see you. Tonight. That had Eddie trajecting back up from his seat. But his questions had disappointingly gone unanswered. No details. No explanation. No reasoning. Just show up, Eddie. At midnight. At her window. And not drunk. Chrissy had never gotten the full story as to what went down between you and Eddie, so that part desperately confused and intrigued the girl, but she didn’t push any further. Eddie, though, had cringed in disgust at himself because he knew. 

An owl had hooted in the distance as he followed the tracks his beloved, dying van had made on your green lawn. Once again, Eddie had found himself in the same position as last night, cracking his neck and rolling his limbs for the climb of a lifetime. If it was somehow possible, he felt he was quivering more than when he was three beers down and no dinner. Yes, he was sober, but his heart could stop beating at the neverending questions his mind was bombarding against himself. Were you mad because he sent Chrissy over? Surely you couldn’t be, she would have said so. But you could also be really fucking pissed. The same type of anger that caught him off guard when his father swung on his little face when Eddie thought they were having a good time.

But he couldn’t rely on heavy thoughts as such. He just needed to get to you. Passed the trellis, over the trimming, onto the roof. Quiet as Eddie Munson could be. He couldn’t really be quiet, but he tried for you. Crouching his way to your window, he sucked in a deep breath before he ever so gently tapped on your window. He was eyeing his reflection, wondering who the hell he had become. The one definitive figure he didn’t want to become: his father. A relentless pessimist, hatred against the world, bruteness to show off, and the inability to take accountability for the hurt they cause, because they were hurt first, right?

But then your curtains opened, and there you were. You.

You, who’d included his friends when no one wanted them. You, who made him smile despite his hesitations of getting hurt. You, who took the fall for everything. You, who gave Eddie Munson a chance. 

You lifted your window open. “Hi.”

Eddie could cry right then and there. His shaky trembling hands slowly offered themselves to you, and you peered down, gently laying yours in his, where your warmth dissipated his coldness. He sighed with a loving grasp. “Y-you’re okay? He didn’t- did he touch you?”

Eddie had heard it from Chrissy, but hearing your small “no” was more comforting than a third-party person. 

“Why, um, why did you need to see me?” He softly cleared his throat. 

“I want to talk, b-but not here.” Eddie nodded ardently at your request. “Just somewhere far.”

Somewhere far, he could give that to you.

Helping you out of your window, you followed Eddie’s led to the edge of your roof, where you traced the dying height from your second story room to the hard, hard, ground. “Don’t be scared.” He soothingly smiled. “Remember, I made the climb drunk.”

You shook your head in disappointment, but he saw that small, beautiful smile peak through your lips. “Just, um, please don’t let me fall.” Your stomach sunk at the eerie possibility. 

But Eddie was there, and he let you know with a secure squeeze to your joint hands. “Never.”

You watched him descend. Off of the roof. Over the trimming. Down the trellis. He made it look so easy, as if he actively partook in the illegal activity of breaking and entering. Eddie would never admit it, not now at least, but for good reason he had done it once. Once. Mr. Godly had a cat that fifteen-year-old Eddie once saw the old man kick. Safe to say, Cronkers now resides in the makeshift cat house of cardboard, wood, and a childhood blanket behind the Munson’s residence. Her favorite is Wayne’s Monday meatloaf. 

He encouraged you down delicately. Instructing you to take small movements, find your steps, and he’ll be right there. He’d always be there. When your Converse hit the holes of the trellis, his hands faintly found your waist, where you trusted him to carry you down the last couple abrasive steps onto your crushed garden. Feet safely on the ground, you gazed up at his staggering height and met his concerned eyes. You merely nodded before he could get the words out, are you okay?

“Your car?” You interrupted his staring. But in his defense, your face was illuminated mesmerizingly in the moonlight of the dark sky. 

“Right, right.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry.” He muttered in embarrassment, as he quickly walked away before you could see his flushing cheeks. As if you hadn’t already witnessed him ugly cry drunk in your bedroom. 

You walked the quiet trip to his van, where he graciously opened the door for you. You didn’t know at the time, but the couple yards it took to get to his car, he’d been battling himself whether or not that’d be the right move to try. He’d never opened the door for anyone. But your small “thank you” that flashed his way had him praising to the gods he didn’t even believe in that he was a genius.

His car smelled strongly like cigarettes and weed. It honestly hurt your head, but you hadn’t expected anything less from Eddie. It made you giggle to yourself. The usual was everywhere; littered receipts and wrappers crumbled into the door compartments, numerous scented trees hanging from the rear view mirror, which you could only assume had been Eddie’s attempt to mask the nicotine and marajuana, and of course, an array of tapes thrown upon the floor at your feet, you could vividly imagine Eddie getting tired of a tape and carelessly getting rid of it. But then there was something else.

Eddie appeared in the front seat. “You ready?” He heaved.

“Yeah, but, um, why do you have these?”

“Ice cream?” He questioned more than answered. Yes, ice cream sitting in the tight space of his cupholders, two cartons with a spoon for each. “Um, well, I figured it’d be nice to, uh, have. I always, uh, liked having it, I guess. Always made me feel slightly better as a kid. It’s vanilla and chocolate. You can take whichever.” You eyed him incredulously, he eyed you worriedly. “Do you not like either of those flavors? I know I went basic, but I thought they were safe choices. I can get you whatever. Strawberry, cookies n’ cream, mint?” He grimaced, as though it was a deal breaker but he’d look right past it.

You giggled at him. “No, Eddie, it’s okay. I just didn’t expect it.” You shyly smiled.

“Okay, good.” He smiled, with a whistle of relievement. “So, it’ll make you feel better?”

-

Lovers Lake had been the destination of choice for Eddie. It was quiet and calming. The car ride had been, too. Eddie had suggested some music, but was adamant about his disdain for the radio, though you weren’t necessarily in the mood to have the voices of Megadeth screaming at you this late at night. Eddie had begrudgingly agreed. So it was quiet. He was itching to ask you why you wanted to talk, though that only seemed appropriate whenever you would arrive. You had reached over and played with the mini bobble head figure of Garfield that was nestled against his van’s windshield. You said it was cute. He blushed. Then proceeded to nervously ramble about how Uncle Wayne had one of Odie in his work truck. You didn’t know Uncle Wayne, but he spoke about him like you knew every detail about Wayne already. The lake had been abandoned and lonely upon arrival. The lights to Rick Lipton’s lake house had been shut off for nearly a year now after his arrest. Eddie had only agreed and smiled when you mentioned how an old, lovely couple probably lived there and sat out by the lake to watch the sunset. Sure, something like that. He’d let you have your fantasy. The way the idea lit up your face and eased your tension, he wasn’t about to ruin that. 

“We can, um, head to the back.” He offered, to which you agreed.

In truth, the bundle of blankets and pillows in the back of his van didn’t paint him out to be the greatest of all people, but he quickly assured that he frequently takes nap in the comfort of his van when he doesn’t have the energy for Mrs. O’Donnell’s voice. Specifically adding a yapping gesture with his hand to emphasize. So there you were. Sitting in the back, doors open to let in the midnight breeze, as you looked out to the glistening waters. You’d settled on vanilla after you noticed the tighter grip Eddie’s hand had clutched around the chocolate flavor, and surely, a blooming smile erupted on his face when he got to secure his preferred flavor of dessert.

“So, um-”

“I just wanted to speak to you.” You confided. “You know, when we’re not yelling, crying, or drunk,” you giggled at his wincing face, “as we have been doing for the past couple of days.”

“M’a fucking mess, I’m sorry.” 

“So am I, Eddie-”

“No, you’re not.” He firmly attested. “You were absolutely perfect before I came into your life and fucked everything up.”

You teased, “You're saying I’m not perfect now?” Your mouth dropped in a dramatic gasp that had him smiling. 

“No! No! I’m not saying that at all, you are perfect now, you’ll be perfect for the rest of your life and you won’t even have to try.” He sheepishly grinned, filling his mouth with a big spoonful to bite back the smile.

“Hate to break it to you, Eddie, but I’ve been far from perfect even before I met you. I wish you would see that. It’s doing more harm than good.” You spoke sincerely. “I don’t like you placing me into a bubble, Eddie, especially when you’ve hated the people who’ve done it to you. But I never have.”

His head dropped with a nod. “You’re right.” He accounted. “I’ve had the bullshit done to me for years, I thought it’d finally make me feel good to do it to someone like you. And it was fucking gross of me, because you’re right, you’ve never done anything to me. Actually, that night you took our photo, that was quite literally the nicest anyone has ever treated me- us. And, fuck me, did I like the shit out of you.”

You laughed at his shy revelation. “You have such a romantic way with your words, Eddie Munson.” You joked. 

“Sorry.” He covered his mouth so kidlike. “But, uh, yeah I obviously liked you, and well, something in me was just fighting me to stay away. Or get away, more than anything. Because, um, it’d… it’d really fucking hurt if you didn’t like me back.” He couldn’t meet your eyes, speaking with pure shame as to who he was as a person. “And, well, mission fucking accomplished, I, sorta, kinda went above and beyond with that logic.”

“You think?” You smiled.

“It was so stupid of me.” He regrettably sighed. “Because-because I thought- you were just so nice to me. Ready to be my friend and everything, that I knew, I fucking knew my feelings would get too much for me and the realizations that I couldn’t be with you fucking scared me.” His voice had significantly softened to ease the burning ache in his throat. “A-and I’m such a shit excuse of a person that I fucking hurt you when you didn’t deserve it.”

“You are not that, Eddie, don’t say that-”

“But I am, Y/N, I’m so fucking terrible. I-I’m, fuck- I really fucking hate my dad.” Your brows creased at the sudden change of topics. “He was an awful person, he- he would-” The crying began. “Fuck,” he wiped his tears completely embarrassed, “He would just do terrible things to me and my mom, and I fucking said- I fucking said I wouldn’t be like him, be like her- she just fucking took that shit, Y/N, she said it was for the best.” You held his hand, his ice cream long forgotten and pushed to the side. “I just don’t want to be like him- them. M’tryin’ so fucking hard that it fucking backfired. M’such a terrible person, and I’m so sorry.”

You wished this conversation wasn’t full of tears, but you realized how inevitable that idea was. You and Eddie Munson were hurting and releasing. Crying was necessary.

“You are not a terrible person, Eddie.” He had to hear, loud and clear. You rested your head on his shoulder, where his head dropped upon yours. “Terrible people don’t sit and wonder if they’re terrible. And the fact that you care about how you are as a person shows it.” You caressed the back of his hand. “You are a worthwhile person, Eddie. I can so clearly see it.”

“I’m really fucking sorry for everything I’ve done to you, Y/N.” He wiped the incoming snot from his nose with his denim sleeve. “I-I need you to know that everything I did was out of fucking stupidity.” He huffed. “What I called you, those names, that was fucking disgusting, and I don’t believe that about you at all. I never have.”

“I’m sorry for what I said about you, too-”

“Don’t you fucking dare say you’re sorry for telling the truth.” He deeply laughed through his sniffles, voice deeper from the being nasally stuffed.

You smiled back guilty. “No, I am! What I said was really mean, too.”

“Absolutely not, sweetheart.” He chuckled. “What was it, ‘a sulking asshole too pathetic to deal with their problems?’ You hit it right on the nail, princess.”

“Well,” you giggled, “even if you won't let me apologize, I need you to know that I still feel bad. Slightly.”

“Fair enough.” He grinned. “But I do need to apologize, and I need you to know that I’m truly sorry, Y/N. For everything. For what I said. For what I did. For making you feel horrible and scared. And for just putting you through all that. You didn’t deserve any of it. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“I know.” You whispered. “And if it’s any consolation to you, Eddie, I also hate my dad.”

“Oh, my god.” Eddie clutched his heart. “He really put a fucking number on me, fuck me.” He groaned, turning to face you. “Please, please, please tell me if he does something. I won’t be able to fucking live my life not knowing.”

Your lips tucked tightly within themselves, and with a soft nod you assured him you would.

You spoke. You both spoke for a while. The hours had passed unknowingly until both tubs of ice cream were empty by 3:33 a.m. Tears and laughter had flooded the back of the van, and you felt like you’d been his friends with him since childhood. He couldn’t fathom the way he treated you, when speaking to you floated him into another dimension of peace and acceptance. Something he hadn’t felt in the entirety of his life. But when you caught a glimpse of the repeating digits on his watch, your heart panicked and you urged him to take you home, which he suddenly complied. This time, though, Megadeth was gladly played, and to say you were shocked would be quite an understatement. Eddie had belted a laugh at your abrupt introduction to metal, finding your this-is-weird-but-I-don’t-want-you-to-think-I’m-judging-you face as the cutest thing ever. And sooner than he liked, he pulled up behind the De Tomaso Pantera. Your attempt to say goodbye fell short, though, when he shot down your idea to walk home alone.

“Really, Eddie, go home, it’s late.” You huffed, when you reached your house.

“I will, I will,” He snickered with defensive hands. “Just, uh, th-thank you so much for, um- well, being so understanding even after all that I did. I just- you really are the best, Y/N.” He ranked his hands over his face in hopes of concealing the ever growing smile on his face.

“Thank you, Eddie.” You giggled at his flustered state. “You’re quite incredible yourself.”

“Do, um, where does this… leave us?”

“I still want space, Eddie.” You spoke honestly, to which he concurred. “Until we’re okay.”

“Until we’re okay.” He sighed. 

-

Eddie had managed to take advantage of the four hours of sleep left until school began. There was no sleeping past his alarm clock, no rush to get dressed, no giving up when lateness was inevitable. He’d shown up, showered and full with a bowl of cereal that went a long way, as he approached Ms. Kelly’s office. It was nerve wracking. He’d never considered this to be a good idea, in fact, following his father’s word, therapy was a pussy excuse for the delusional to waste money on. But those were the words that held him captive from the potential he so well deserved to reach. Turning from her filing cabinet, Ms. Kelly had caught sight of his timid figure standing at the door. 

“Eddie.” She hadn’t been unfamiliar with his being, she’d actually been the one to break it to him the last two times that he was in for another year at prison Hawkins High. “How can I help you?”

He sauntered his way into her office, taking a seat with a gruff. It was evident his persona to seem calm, cool, and collected was falling through the cracks, as his finger spun the numerous rings on his fingers. “I, uh, I was wondering if it’d be cool to, um, just talk?”

“Absolutely.” Ms. Kelly dreamed of the day Eddie Munson would enter her office with good intentions. “Anything in particular?”

He shook his head. “No.” He sighed. “Just got a lot pent up inside, I guess.”

“Well, the floor is yours, Eddie.” She smiled. “Talk as much as you need.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | Unfortunately, my tag list for this series has gotten too long, so I will not be adhering to any further requests to be included. I'm so terribly sorry, but the amount of tags has beyond reached its limit, and I think it's best to stop. I hope it's understandable. Nonetheless, thank you all for your kind support, I hope you guys continue to enjoy the series, and if you ever have any ideas as to what you'd like to see, I'd love to know!

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[strawburry01]

Northern Attitude

Summary: The team goes out to a small Montana town facing a random string of murders pointing to a new cult forming in the woods around town. Only once they get there does Hotch realize he recognizes the assistant chief for the town force- someone from his university days.

Word Count: 3k

No smut just angsty, maybe not entirely canon compliant but nothing crazy.

Authors Note: Let me know if folks want a part 2 (you may get one anyway, but my brain hasn't decided yet), or any one offs from Hotch and the characters time in uni. I have ideas...

It was another cold morning in your room. You refused to go to bed if it wasn’t comfortably cocooned in at least three blankets, but it did mean getting out of bed in the morning was particularly dreadful. You groan as you stretch your back hearing it pop as you twist. Eventually, you push yourself out of your warm pile of blankets and pillows to take a shower to wake up and start the day.

You worked as an assistant chief in your small Montana town. Things were slow for the most part. Nobody beyond the average population, except for the summers when the tourists came in for hiking and camping, but even then, it was never too much. A few rambunctious teens some nights, the occasional robbery of the convenience store downtown, a random carjacking every other month, but this had all come to a screeching halt when a random string of murders popped up over the last few weeks. Unfortunately, based on the scenes and your analysis, it seemed cult related, bringing a lot more attention, specifically from the government, to your once quaint town. 

Shuffling back to your room after your shower you throw on your average attire, black slacks, blue button up, and boots. Being a woman in a small town police force wasn’t easy, but you’d done your time. It only took a few cases before the men started realizing you meant business, and often would run the opposite direction in the office whenever they saw you walking in with a bad mood knowing you would make their life a living hell. Graduating from university with both electrical engineering and criminology made you stand out when you entered the workforce all those years ago, but the quiet side of you still yearned for silence and a work life balance, which is something you did get all the way out here. Well, at least before this all. You’d been working overtime every night into the late hours trying to figure out what you were dealing with. All you had was your bed every couple hours at night before your brain would wake you up again with a flood of new theories and ideas. You’d be happy when this was over, for all the reasons.

You jump into your truck and quickly blow onto your mug of coffee to cool it down as you head out to the latest scene. You swear out loud as you nearly spill it onto your lap as you take a turn too sharp. You crank the volume of your radio up to help wake you up and try to put you in a good mindset. You never tried to come to work in a bad mood, in fact you tried to come in on the cusp of being annoyingly positive and cautiously optimistic. You knew this line of work was easy to get sucked down into and spiral, you’d seen it before, hell you lived it before when you were fresh out of university. It’s what got you out working in a big city, or for a bigger federal office. 

You pull into the parking lot alongside the other police vehicles that had already shown up for the day. This latest murder scene was unfortunately in an empty field behind an abandoned high school. Definitely not creepy at all, you thought to yourself as you got out and eyed the several busted windows on the second floor. You grab your backpack and mug as you make your way to the tent set up with the team’s temporary office with laptops and files from the case.

“Morning boys,” you hum as you step underneath the tent, observing the open screens. You get a few ‘good mornings’ back. Some of the guys had been working since the scene was called in and you could tell. Dammit you should have brought coffee or doughnuts for them.

“Cheers boss”, one of the officers, Carter, sighs to you as he walks into the tent, clinking his coffee with yours. Carter had always been one of your favorites, he was young, wide-eyed, but still meant business. He’d grown up in the area so he knew all the folks like they were family. You let out a small smirk as you sip your coffee, starting to map out the plan for today.

You’d have to scour the entire field. And the entire school. You didn’t want a single potential lead or clue or mistake from them to be lost. The team would hate it but it needed to be done.

“Alright team find a friend and meet back here in ten minutes. You’re going to be split between the school and the field and I need all of it thoroughly searched. Heard?” you said, leaning on the table facing the team you had. They all nodded or chirped back a complaint which you laughed at, “you got ten minutes to warm up”.

You leaned back on the front of your truck as you took out a cigarette and placed it between your lips. Lighting it up you stared out into the field. Dappled with yellows and oranges, you can’t even see the ground through the wheat and piles of ancient dirt. Why here? Any other day this would be beautiful, but knowing a murder happened right here made it such a tragic scene. There’s a crackle of gravel from an incoming car behind you. Probably the chief coming in, albeit uncharacteristically early since he usually stayed in the office until things got really hairy. You sighed as you let a cloud of smoke out of your lips, staring up at the sun. Your phone buzzes against your hip and you lazily slide it out before checking it. 

It’s a text from the chief. “Federal Bureau coming in today. Play nice.”. Your stomach flips. FBI? Well shit. Also how rude of him not to text you any earlier than right now. “Who?”, you texted back. You see the cursed three dots pop up and down a few times before the text actually sends. “BAU”. You nearly drop your cigarette out of your mouth at your jaw dropping. 

As if on some otherworldly cursed cue.

“Y/n?” a terribly familiar voice says from behind you. You take a sharp inhale, before taking out your cigarette and turning your head, trying to look charming as hell.

“Hello dear Aaron,” you say with a smile on your face, seeing the man who’d been stuck in your thoughts since the day he left your side. 

It’s his eyes that never changed. They still scrunch up as he smiles at you.

“I didn’t know this was your town,” he said as he moved beside you. You look up at him, placing your cigarette back between your lips and shrugging with a smirk plastered on the side of your face. You catch his eyes quickly flickering over you, just as you look over him. He used to be skinny, studious, almost a nerd, but the man that stood in front of you now was built, stern, and serious. 

“I got told a few seconds ago that you’d be here at all. Chief keeps me on my toes,” you remarked, internally thinking about how you actually wanted to wring his neck for not telling you sooner. 

When you woke up this morning you did not- in a thousand years-  expect Aaron Hotchner to show up at your work. At your crime scene. It was a tumultuous mix of excitement, nerves, intrigue, and still a bit of anger. You hadn’t seen him in years, let alone reached out. Ever since ending on a sour note you never tried, mostly because you knew he wouldn’t respond- not out of spite but just because he was so busy and focused on work. It was admirable, but also so annoying.

“You smoke now?” he asked, snapping you out of your mental musings. He was eyeing disapprovingly the cigarette still hanging in the corner of your mouth. 

“You wear contacts now?” you retorted, raising an eyebrow. He sharply laughed and looked back to his team as they approached.

“Have for a while” he said, turning back to you.

“Haven’t known for a while” you snipped before throwing your cigarette butt onto the ground and smashing it out with your heel to free yourself to meet his team. “We’ll talk later Aaron” you said with a nod which he nodded back to, ending this conversation, knowing more pressing things existed than-

your-

university-

situationship- 

showing up again in your life. 

Aaron’s team pops up behind him and brings you back to focus. Dammit there was a murder on your watch and you could only think of this fucking man. Grow up, you swore in your head as you forced a customer service smile onto your face. 

“Team this is y/n l/n, a friend from university,” he said as he gestured to you. He couldn’t make eye contact when he called you just a friend. You noticed two of the men on the team elbowed each other, no doubt in shock their boss actually had friends outside of work at some point in his life. 

Aaron introduced you to his team and you tried to run through their names in your head as you shook their hands. You were terrible with names. Agent Reid was the twiggy one who looked perpetually deep in thought, Agent Morgan was the one with the tight black shirt who who had an air of confidence about him, Agent Jareau was the sweet blonde who acted like the unofficial mother of the group, and Rossi who was the tired old dad of the group. I’m sure Aaron loved being bossed around by him, you thought to yourself as you shook his hand. He seemed nice, but Aaron had never been one to not be the one in charge- the little control freak. 

You brought them to your tent to introduce them to your folks, trying to get everyone on the same page with daylight burning. Later than expected due to the guests everyone was ready to actually start looking through the field and school. You felt Aaron’s eyes on you as you told everyone to pair off, but you nabbed Carter before he could object. 

The search of both areas wasn’t as successful as you had hoped. The school had some ominous latin scribbled onto the walls in red, which had been determined to be blood on the scene, although it wasn’t the latest victims. Reid had somehow been able to translate the latin- you could see in an instant why they kept him around.

“So what’s the deal with you and the FBI guy?” Carter asks when you get to the smack dab middle of the field. Your neck hurts from craning over the ground, trying to not let a speck of earth go unseen. 

“What do you mean?” you ask back, not looking up as you continue scanning the ground.

“I’ve never seen you flustered,” he quips as he pauses, “you actually like-I don’t know it was just weird” he said and half heartedly shrugged as he looked back at the group that had begun to reform by the tent. 

“It’s complicated,” you said, knowing that the young adult in him would eat the drama up. Sure enough, he perked up.

“Yeah? What is it? You got an ex?” he said, nudging you.

But that was the problem. He wasn’t an ex. He wasn’t really an anything. He was a friend, sure, but friends also didn’t make out in the corners of parties as much as you two had. And friends didn’t stay up until sunrise testing each other for the upcoming exams every single finals week. And friends didn’t invite each other to spend weekends at their family vacation cabin alone. 

“No, no, no, just-” you tried to explain to no avail, not even knowing how to justify this to yourself, “okay maybe,”. Carter let out a low whistle.

“Hey if my ex showed up to work I’d be flipping the fuck out, you’re handling this really well,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. You chuckle at the kids joke.

“Sometimes it’s just nicer to see a familiar face, you’ll get it when you’re older,” you said, knowing hated when you pulled the you’ll understand when you’re older card. He rolled his eyes and groaned. 

Once the sun started setting you made your way back to the huddle that was forming of everything theorizing and laying out the evidence. Tomorrow would be busy in the office working to get everything categorized and bagged. You leaned up against your truck again, just like you did this morning, and pulled out another cigarette, flicking the lighter onto the end. You waved your team over and told them to head home for the night. You knew a lot of them had families at home, and you tried to be respectful of it all, even if you didn’t have your own. Some of the security officers watching the spot for the night stayed and mingled with the BAU team a ways away from you, and you settled your sights on the pink hue of the clouds as the sun lowered.

A familiar body moved next to you. You didn’t have to turn to know it was Aaron. You blew a cloud of smoke out the other side of your lips and stayed quiet, waiting for him to start. He had his hands jammed in his coat pockets, his shoulder grazing against yours. People used to laugh at the height difference back in university, and it had only gotten worse it seemed, or at least Aaron walked around with much more presence these days. You were leaning up against the front grate of your truck and felt Aaron slowly move his arm behind you, holding onto the grate on the other side of your hip. Feeling his arm behind you felt so familiar. 

“There’s Latin at the other scenes too,” he said, facing straight ahead into the sun.

“Shit,” you said as you slowly nodded, realizing that the scribbles would not just be nothing. There was a moment of silence before he broke it again.

“Do you hate me?” he asked, glancing down for a second, but long enough for you to meet eyes before you looked away.

“You know I could never hate you,” you said begrudgingly, knowing it was the truth. His arm got closer to your back at that and you leaned further onto it, “it’s really annoying honestly” you halfheartedly laughed. You heard him laugh under his breath. You swallowed your pride and leaned in, resting your head on the side of his torso, letting out another cloud to try and soothe your nerves. 

“It’s nice out here,” he said, looking out at the sunset still which had only gotten deeper pink and orange. 

“ ‘S quiet,” you agreed, “I don’t know how you do it in the big leagues,”. 

“You know you could’ve too,” he said, looking down. You stayed staring straight ahead.

“I’m not doing this argument again Aaron,” you said curtly, as you eyed him back. He shrugged and turned away again. 

“You know you could have that’s all,”. 

“You ever think I’m okay with it out here? You ever think I don’t need to kill myself over every case with the fate of the world hanging on it?” you said, raising your voice a little.

“I’m just saying you were one of the best and you could do a lot in the bureau,” he said back, “in the BAU,” he tested. You let out an angry air of smoke from your cigarette.

“Dammit Aaron don’t do this again,” you said, cutting him off before he can say anything else. You throw your cigarette onto the gravel and kick some rocks over the smoldering residue, “I’m happy here, can’t you just be okay with that?”. Aaron watched you and sighed and shifted in his spot, taking the second to move his hand from the car to your waist. 

“I’m sorry Y/N,” he said, and he meant it. You sighed.

“I’m not going to be able to convince you to stay huh?” you asked, trying to joke, but inside you really did mean it earnestly. His thumb rubbed your side. It had been a while since you felt like this.

“I don’t think you’re able to,” he responded, sadness tinging his voice. The two of you stood, leaning into each other watching the sun finally dip behind the hills in the distance.

A few yards away Morgan stood on the phone, peeking around a car before ducking back. Garcia was not going to believe this shit.

[lovebugism]

❛ i’m telling you all of a sudden, but it isn’t new to me. i love you. ❜ with our boy Steve Harrington please?

i wrote this after watching little women, so this is like that one laurie and amy scene but stranger things coded <3 hope you like it!! (this is 5k words btw and barely proofread 🫣)

The R.V. smells like coopery blood, alternate dimension muck, and nine teenagers who haven’t showered in three days. But despite all that, Steve Harrington is next to you, smiling. 

As if there’s anything worth being happy about now. 

He tells you about a dream with a hopeful gleam in his honey eyes, like he believes it’ll all come true — like death is staring him in the face. “I know it’s silly, but I… I always dreamed I’d have this really, really big family. I’m talking like, uh— a full brood of Harrington’s. I don’t know, five… Maybe six kids?”

“Six?” you repeat with an incredulous laugh. You turn your body in the passenger seat to face him more, shoulder pressing into the worn pleather. You’ve got your brows raised to your hairline in shock at his admission and a beam on your face you don’t realize is there.

“Uh-huh. Six little nuggets. Three girls, three boys,” he says with an assured nod. There’s a distant smile hinting at the edges of his lips, and he looks at you with it for a moment before turning back to the road again. 

“And every summer, I figured all of us Harrington’s, we’d pack into something like this, and… just see the country. You know, the Rockies, the Grand Canyon, maybe Yellowstone. We’d end up in some beachside town in California and spend a week parked in the sand, maybe learn how to surf or something.”

You can picture the dream so effortlessly, almost like it’s one you’ve had yourself. 

In some ways, you did.

Steve Harrington was the kind of boy that filled you with butterflies and childlike daydreams. It was more innocent than lusting, more significant than a teenage crush. There was a time you’d wanted to be with him so badly that you could barely breathe. It kept you up at night, fantasizing about a future with a boy that didn’t want you. It haunted your dreams just as often.

You were, perhaps a bit begrudgingly, a part of that stereotype — a girl who wanted all of the things adults thought girls wanted. You longed for a pretty white dress and a husband that cried when you walked down the aisle. You wanted a small house with a white picket fence, a home that’s always loud with laughing children and barking dogs and loving parents.

It was a future you only wanted with Steve.

But he didn’t love you. Not the way he loved Nancy.

Not the way he still loves Nancy.

It’s not a crime he needs to confess to for you to know he’s guilty of it. You can see it written all over his face, in the way he talks about his future family and flits his gaze from the winding backroad up to the rearview mirror to look at her. He’s picturing her in his head the way you picture him in yours.

Knowing someone else is a part of this dreamt-up family and not you is a bitter pill to swallow.

It has you looking back too, at the gang of ragtag soldiers you’re about to save the world with. You glance over your shoulder at all of them, finding them dozing or outright sleeping in the back of the R.V. 

You don’t blame them. The past few days have been hell.

You’re just glad Max has finally found a moment of peace. The redhead lazes between Lucas and Dustin on the couch in the very back. She rests her head on the former boy’s soldier, but you can’t tell if she’s sleeping or not. Lucas has his eyes closed but a smile on his face as he lays his cheek on the crown of her head.

Dustin, on the other hand, looks dreadfully out of place among the two lovebirds. His head is tilted back and his mouth is wide open. Soft snores spill from his throat.

Erica, Robin, and Nancy all sit at the tiny table beside the tinier kitchen. Their heads are either resting on their folded arms or pressing against the window.

The small cushion adjacent to the couch is taken up wholly by Eddie. 

Your Eddie.

His long legs are spread and his back is slouched against the side of the R.V. He’s taking up every bit of room the thing has to offer, which wasn’t very much to begin with. His pink lips are parted and slightly chapped. He blows soft exhales from them that make his chest rise and fall with even breaths. 

Your hands begin to ache with the want to run them through his wild strands of hair, to ease his head to your chest and let the sound of your heartbeat chase away the nightmares that threaten to plague him.

You want so badly to sleep alongside him, but you know that slumber won’t come as easily to you.

Despite the exhaustion that weighs down your tired bones, whenever you close your eyes, you can only see Chrissy’s mangled body on the ceiling of Eddie’s trailer. The image of broken bones and sucked-out eye sockets is stained on the back of your mind.

It’s something you’ll never forget. Not in a billion, trillion lifetimes.

You’re scared you won’t ever sleep peacefully again.

But you’re glad Eddie’s finally resting. Even if you can’t. 

And maybe that’s what love is.

…Love.

You almost can’t believe you’re calling it that. It’s not like you’ve told him as much or anything. You haven’t been together very long, only a few months, but you’re not sure what else to call this feeling. Is it normal for you to want to fight the most powerful dark wizard known to man with your bare hands as long as it means keeping Eddie safe?

The realization that you’re actually moving on from Steve is perhaps more shocking. You were starting to think you’d be fawning over him for the rest of your life, destined to be alone forever while he got married and had kids. But then Eddie came out of nowhere. He swept you off your feet without even trying.

You’d spent so much of your life in love with Steve that you’d forgotten how it felt to be loved. But Eddie reminded you, most ardently so, and you’ve never been happier.

And Steve can see all that.

He can see how you’ve gone to hell and back — quite literally — to keep Eddie safe. He can see how Eddie still manages to make you laugh so hard your stomach hurts, even though death looms overhead like a big, gray storm cloud. It almost makes him angry. Not at Eddie, exactly. And certainly not at you. He’s more so mad at himself for waiting until you were out of his grip entirely to need you like air.

Steve wasn’t an idiot; he knew how you felt about him. He’s known for years. But Nancy was the only girl in his purview for… an embarrassingly long amount of time. Maybe that’s because she didn’t want a single damn thing to do with him at first, and it wasn’t like Steve to back down from a challenge.

But you? You were easy. You were always going to be there. Your love was the only constant thing in his life.

And then it just… wasn’t.

It was like his center of gravity had suddenly shifted or his feet had been knocked out from under him. The loss of you, of something that was never his to begin with, jarred him like he’d been awake with most vigor. Now, he finds himself living in a nightmare — forced to watch you fall in love with someone else while he ebbs slowly from your mind.

You sit with him now — with Eddie — while he and Dustin fuck around with the shields they’d crafted out of tin garbage can lids. You watch them with a smile on your face even though you’re shaking your head at them and telling them something that Steve can’t hear. 

You’ve got a sword in your hand, and you sharpen its steel with a rock. The too expensive thing had been hanging on the wall at The War Zone, and you told Eddie you just had to have it. 

“I’ll just… take up extra shifts at Wayne’s shop,” you reason with a shrug, gaze never leaving the bladed weapon.

“Do whatever you want,” the brunette boy responded nonchalantly as he dropped four cases of ammunition into the red basket in your hand. He smiled down at you. “That just means I’ll get to see you more.”

It hurts Steve for you to be so far away from him. 

You’re just across the small clearing. All he’d have to do is walk over to you, really, but it’s more than just the distance. No matter how close he gets to you, or how far you get from Eddie, your soul’s always going to be with him. 

Steve will never have you like that, and that’s what hurts the most.

He thinks he’s doing a pretty good job of keeping a stiff upper lip about it. He thinks he’s keeping some deep, dark secret, having no idea that he’s all but spilling his guts to Robin. Honestly, he’s just trying to make conversations while they make homemade bombs out of gasoline and glass bottles, but he’s more than obvious. As per usual.

“How long do you think they’ve got?” Steve asks her out of the blue while he pours the chemicals through the funnel and into the flask Robin holds out for him. He doesn’t wait for an answer. 

“Because I thought they’d be over forever ago, you know? I mean… it’s Eddie. She’s, like, totally out of his league, right? But I’m pretty sure they just had an anniversary or something because I saw him buying flowers at Bradley’s Big Buy the other day…”

Robin opens her mouth to get a word in, but Steve just keeps on going going going.

“Unless you think they were for someone else? But let’s be serious, right? He’s a freak, but he’d never do that to her. I don’t know… Maybe he’s just the sorta guy that gets her flower for no reason, and it hasn’t been as long as it feels.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure they—”

“Let’s face it, if he’s doing that for her, they’re probably gonna make it, right?” the boy laughs bitterly to himself. He stuffs a rag into the neck of the bottle. “God, I’m such an idiot… Maybe if I’d done those things, I’d still—”

“I swear to god, if you say you’d still be with Nancy, I’m gonna punch you in the forehead,” Robin snapped suddenly. She’s got a foreign sternness to her tone and a glacial hardness in her blue eyes. She glares at him with it. “You don’t love Nancy, Steve. And she doesn’t love you. So stop going for the easiest thing when you know it’s not what you want.”

He sighs. He knows she’s right. “I just—”

“I get it. It sucks being lonely. I’m pretty sure I’m destined to spend the rest of my life alone, so join the club,” Robin smiles, a tad bit cynically, at him. “It sucks being in love with someone you can’t have. Trust me, I get it. But you need to move on.”

Steve swallows. He almost winces at the thought of that — of never having you. He shakes his head as though to get rid of the idea entirely. “I can’t… I can’t do that, Rob.”

“Then what are you gonna do, Steve?” she asks him with a mirthless, but not unkind laugh. 

She nods her head over to you. You laugh as Eddie spins you in his arms, both of you marveling at how you’ve just nailed a tree on the far edge of the clearing with the knives you’d thrown at it. Steve can hear the sound of your bubbly laughter from where he sits. Its brightness rivals that of the setting sun. 

“Look at her. She’s happy. Finally. So… Just let her be happy,” Robin advises with a shrug. She sets the glass bottle in the box with the rest of them. “I mean, we’re about to stop a dark wizard from ending the world, you know? Some of us probably won’t make it out—”

“Don’t say that,” Steve scolds.

“Some of us probably won’t make it,” she repeats, firmer this time, like it’s something he really needs to hear. “Something could happen to Eddie. Something could happen to her. Do you really want to be the selfish asshole that ruins what could very well be everyone’s last moments together just because you’ve got a bleeding heart?”

She’s being harsh. He knows it deserves it. Now is virtually the worst time to tell you everything on his mind — just when you’re starting to really settle down with Eddie and about to fight some wizard in an alternate dimension.

Something could happen to her. Those words left Robin’s mouth and stabbed him in the heart like a thousand unforgiving knives. Steve can’t fathom anything ever happening to you. Even with the end of the world, with all of you about to fight a war, it never crossed his mind. He can’t picture his life without you in it.

He can’t lose you without telling you how he feels — that he loves you, that he’s always loved you, and that he’s an oblivious idiot who learned that too late.

He can’t lose you at all.

So, against his better judgment and Robin’s sound advice, Steve abandons his work with her and hikes the relatively short distance over to you.

Eddie hasn’t yet let go of you. He keeps his arms tight around your waist and hugs you from behind, pressing the back of you to his chest while his chin sits along your shoulder. His chocolate eyes are stuck on the bullseye you’d carved into the bark of the tree on the far side of the clearing. The four knives you’d thrown, now stuck at the very center of the target, stare back at him.

“This is probably a bad time to be turned on, huh?” he half-jokes, chin bobbing against your shoulder with every word.

“Eddie!” you scold as you wrench yourself out of his grip.

Dustin’s face screws up from where he lounges on the grass beside the both of you. “Gross…” 

You walk away from the two boys to collect your knives from the poor oak tree. Eddie whistles lowly at you while you go — as though he’s never seen you in a pair of jeans before. You throw your middle finger over your shoulder at him in response.

That’s when Steve catches you, when you’re finally alone, and with a tiny white lie of needing to go back to the R.V. for more gasoline. You offer to walk with him, just like he figured you might, because none of you wants anyone to go off alone. Not with Vecna potentially watching you.

You walk alongside him through the thick wood, dodging low-hanging branches and uplifted roots. Steve notices the distant smile dancing on the corners of your lips — a beautiful stain Eddie’s left there.

“What are you gonna do?” he asks you suddenly. “You know, when this is all over?”

Your brows raise at his question, mouth falling softly agape and eyes widening with a far-off look. You look stumped by the simple inquiry, like it’s something you hadn’t thought of yet — of any of this being over.

“I don’t know…” you murmur. “Go back to work, I guess.”

Steve laughs. “We’re gonna save the world tonight, and you’re gonna be back in the office on Monday?”

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll take a sick day,” you joke, just to hear him laugh again.

He lifts a splintered tree limb to get it out of the way for you, then ushers you to walk ahead of him. You mutter a low and shy “thank you” as you walk beneath it. He lets the branch fall again as he follows behind you.

“What about you, then?” you retort. “What are you gonna do after? Since going back to a nine-to-five is so unreasonable.”

“Actually, I was thinking about writing an opera,” Steve quips with a straight face. “I would be the main character, of course—”

“You’re such an idiot,” you giggle with the shake of your head. The airy, sunshine sound makes him smile down at you. His honey-tined gaze swims with longing. You don’t catch it because you’re not looking back at him.

“What do you want me to do, then?”

You tilt your head to catch his stare. Your eyes sparkle and your brows arch with a look both soft and stern. “Honest answer?”

“Of course.”

“I think you should go work for your dad. Try and… I don’t know… make something for yourself—”

“Alright, that’s not…”

“—Because you can’t work at Family Video forever, Steve!”

“You’re not playing fair,” he concedes quietly, laughing under his breath and shaking his head.

He shouldn’t have expected anything less — you did preface an honest answer, after all. It doesn’t make him feel any less bad about it, though.

You’d supported Steve through a lot of shit. Every mindless fight with his parents, every breakup that had him swearing he would never love again, every aspect of his douchebag phase that almost ruined your friendship. You were always soft with him, but never dishonest.

So when he told you that his dad offered him a well-paying job in Indianapolis, it didn’t surprise him when you told him to take it. Despite all the other shit (his broken relationship with his father and his incessant daydreaming of settling down with Nancy, namely), you knew he wasn’t happy in Hawkins.

“Fuck your dad, Steve. This isn’t about him,” you’d said. “You should take it! Starting building your life in the city! And when you’re finally making more money than your stupid dad, you can rub it in everyone’s stupid faces.”

Steve, of course, ended up turning it down.

The salary was high — too high for a boy just out of high school — but he figured no amount of money was worth a wounded pride. 

Steve was scared that it was all a ploy, another thing his dad could hold over his head, another accomplishment that wasn’t really his. And, truth be told, he was less enthusiastic about leaving Hawkins without you. He isn’t quite sure where he’d be in life without you guiding him through a significant portion of it. It made it nearly impossible to picture a life that didn’t have you at the very center of it.

He happily took to be Robin Buckley’s schmuck at Scoops Ahoy (and then again at Family Video) and Dustin Henderson’s unofficial chauffeur instead. He didn’t mind being a casualty of rattrap small town as long as it meant he didn’t have to stray too far from you.

But here you were now, right next to him in this lonesome forest, and still so far away.

You meet his boyishly forlorn expression with a sincere, tight-lipped smile. “You know that I’m right.”

“Yeah, I do,” he scoffs in response. “That’s the problem.”

“When we kill Vecna and save Hawkins for the… thousandth time… You should take that job. I mean, screw your dad, you deserve a life outside of all this shit—”

“So do you,” he argues.

“I’ll make it without you, Harrington. I’ll try to, anyway,” you quip, turning your gaze up to the family of birds sitting high in an oak tree and wishing you were one of them. You shrug to yourself. “I’ll keep on being a secretary at the car shop… Maybe settle down with Eddie.”

That makes Steve stop dead in his tracks. He laughs bitterly to himself, a quiet and venom-coated scoff. “Right. Because living with his uncle in a one-bedroom trailer is such a dream.”

It makes you stop, too, and turn on your heel to face him. You’re surprised to find him so many paces back. Steve sees a flash of hurt strike like lightning across your features, but he’s too hurt to apologize.

“I get it,” you concede with a small, cynical smile. “You don’t like him. You never have. But… He’s a good guy, Steve. If you just got to know him—”

“It’s not that,” he mumbles, cutting you off before he has to suffer through a list of reasons why Eddie’s so much better than he is. The boy’s gaze falls to the forest floor. He kicks a bunch of green pine needles with the toe of his sneaker rather than meet your prying gaze.

“Then what is it?” you retort. “Because I was just trying to help you. I didn’t say to, like, hurt your feelings or whatever. I just know that you want a life in the city, with a big house and a whole bunch of kids—” A laugh spills from your lips as you remember the dream he was telling you about. “You want that picture-perfect life, right? Now you can have it!”

“You don’t know what I want,” he counters quietly.

“Oh, please. I know you better than you know yourself, Steve Harrington—”

“Break up with him,” he blurts.

Your playful smile fades almost instantly. Your eyes search his face for any hint that he might be joking, but all you find is a deeply heartbroken boy. His bushy brows are scrunched together, his eyes glimmering with unshed tears, a puppy-like hurt painting each of his features.

You match his expression of grief with your own. Your face scrunches with a mixture of confusion and sorrow. “Wh… What?” you manage to stutter after realizing you’d been holding your breath.

“I don’t want you to settle down with Eddie,” Steve confesses. A secret he thought he’d take to his grave before ever telling you.

You’re quiet. For several long moments, you’re eerily silent. Even the forest hangs on bated breath. Birds stop chirping, the wind stops blowing, leaves stop rustling. It’s just you and him and a great big world waiting on the both of you.

A frown pulls down the very corners of your mouth. Your eyes go glassy and wide, like a heartbroken baby, and your head jerks back softly, still defensive and unsure.

“Why?” you force through a tightening throat.

“Why?” Steve repeats, finding it somehow within himself to laugh. He takes several short strides to stand with you again. With him closer now, you can see the sadness in his smile and the flush that blotches his cheeks. “You know why…”

You only shake your head in response. The words are far harder to get out. “No…”

“I just… I know it feels like I’m saying it all of a sudden, but it’s… It’s not new to me, you know?” Steve tries his best to explain to you why he’s choosing now, of all moments, to pour his heart out to you. His eyes are as wide and hopeful as the palms he waves out in front of him. “I don’t wanna go into this without you knowing how I feel about you—” 

“Steve,” you agonize in hopes of ending his rambling. “Don’t.”

“—And I just want you to know, in case something happens, that I love you.”

“No,” you say with the defiant shake of your head, your chin quivering and your gaze ice-cold.

“Yes,” he replies, just as stubborn.

“Steve…” you choke out when the name gets hung in your throat. 

A warm tear falls from your lashes and onto the very apple of your cheek. You wipe it away with the back of your hand and use your free one to bat Steve away when he tries to reach out for you. You stumble back from him, heading back the way you came — back to Eddie.

“Don’t, Steve. Just stop it.”

“Why?” he grieves in the softest voice he can muster, wet and warm with his hurt.

“You’re being mean,” you scold.

“I’m being mean?” he echoes with a sad sort of laugh.

“When it comes to you… I have always been second to Nancy. Always. And I won’t be the person you settle for just because she doesn’t want you, Steve,” you rant, voice fragile like glass or flower petals. 

He wants to tell you that he doesn’t want Nancy — that being with the person he loves won’t be settling — but you continue in your lament, and he misses the chance.

“I can’t… I won’t do it, okay? Not after I’ve spent my entire life loving you,” you confess to him, face scrunched in anger. It’s a subtle sort of rage, pointed both at him and yourself.

He watches, feeling totally helpless, while you wipe bitterly at your damp cheeks. Steve’s seen a lot of assholes make you cry. He never dreamed he’d be one of them. 

Robin was right. He’d ruined everything. It seems to be the only thing he’s good at these days.

“I’m sorry,” he calls to you as you walk away. “I wasn’t… I didn’t say it to make you sad.”

“You shouldn’t have said it at all!” you shout back, angrier than you’ve ever been with him. You take in a stuttering breath and exhale a shakier sigh, trying to calm yourself down again. “I just don’t get why you waited so long…” you agonize, words wet with tears. “Why did you wait until I was happy? Eddie… Eddie’s so nice to me, Steve. And you just… You just throw this shit at me right before we... That’s not fair.”

“I know…” he murmurs. “I know…”

The world starts turning again. 

Birds sing their songs, sounding somehow sadder than before, as though in lament for the brokenhearted boy. The wind begins to whistle as it brushes through the trees. It’s only half successful in breathing air back into your lungs.

A rustling of the brush gains both of your attention’s. It sounds like something is slithering somewhere in the thick laurel — a rabbit, a snake, a dark wizard out to kill a bunch of sad teenagers. 

You and Steve are alone, heartbroken, and clear targets for a monster who feeds on traumatized kids.

Though it’s entirely unlikely that Vecna has crawled out from the depths of the Upside Down and into these woods, you and Steve reach for your respective weapons anyway — him for the axe strapped to his back and you for the knives hanging on your belt. You’re ready to protect each other despite your distant anger.

But instead of some shriveled skin creep, you find freaks of a different kind.

The pale human faces of Dustin and Eddie peek out from the brush with curious smiles. They maneuver through the thicket and try to avoid the thorns. “What’s going on over here, huh?” the oldest boy wonders with his signature sparkling grin.

It’s almost scary how you so easily contort your features full of grief into a sickly sweet, artificial smile. You swipe the back of your hand over your face again to clear the tears clinging to your lashes, though it looks like you’re only wiping away sweat.

“Nothing,” you answer quickly with the innocent shake of your head. “Steve was just being an idiot—”

“Imagine that,” Dustin scoffs.

“—And saying stuff he doesn’t mean.”

“That’s not true,” Steve mutters, then clears his throat when the words come out more choked than expected.

“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t out here making moves on my girl, Harrington,” Eddie lilts with a playful smile. He reaches you and wraps a heavy arm over your shoulder to tuck you into his side. 

His sudden touches stopped surprising you a long time ago. You realized early on in your relationship that he can’t go without touching you for very long.

Eddie squints teasingly at Steve. “Go get your own.”

The boy doesn’t have a comeback at the ready. He isn’t sure of what to say, anyway. Eddie’s jokes aren’t as funny when they aren’t jokesanymore. He was just sort of professing his love to you and getting his heart stomped on in the process. He should probably be used to the feeling by now, but it stings like it’s brand new.

You’re grateful for Eddie’s appearance and the bickering that seems to follow him wherever he goes. It’s easy to get lost in his words, let all the sarcasm run over you, and forget the bullshit that came before it.

“We should head back before the others think we got abducted by Vecna or something,” you urge, desperate to get away from these woods and from this moment.

Dustin listens to you without question because he always listens to you. And Steve listens because he wants an escape just as much as you do. He’d rather go back to Robin and all her “I told you so”’s than keep watching Eddie hold you like he is now.

“What do ya say we skip this joint and have our own fun out here?” the wild-haired boy jokes, already leaning down to press a kiss to your mouth.

“Eddie, don’t—” you huff, but otherwise don’t fight him. It’s only an innocent peck, a loud smack upon your lips, that makes Dustin mutter “gross…” under his breath as he walks away. 

And if he heard it, that means Steve heard it.

You keep your eyes open all the while. You feel a bit numb, actually. A little like you’ve just kissed a ghost. You feel as cold as one, as distant and not all there. Eddie holds your hand the entire walk back to the clearing, but you have a hard time feeling it.

You feel a bit like woods surrounding you. You’re all crowded and heavy with sadness. You can’t tell if your grief is your own or if you’re feeling Steve’s too, because you can’t seem to take your eyes off him.

There’s an entire forest within you, you find, and Steve’s carved his initials into every tree.

[hqbaby]

seven — kinda nice

fuck ur instincts — suna x reader & atsumu x reader

you and suna are just fooling around—so why does he care so much when you start falling in love with someone else?

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 2.6k content. swearing, oral (m receiving), fingering, vaginal penetration, handjob, use of pet names, aftercare

“Don’t,” Yukie says, holding a hand up as if to stop you from speaking.

You frown. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, but you were going to.” She keeps her head down, focused on her notes. “You were going to talk about wanting to drop out again.”

“I was not.”

“Were too.”

“Was not.”

Yachi hushes you. “Are we studying or not?”

You point an accusatory finger at Yukie. “She started it!”

“Y/N, I love you, but can you just please focus,” Kiyoko joins in, looking at you desperately. “Your next exam’s worth 40% of your grade.”

You cross your arms and lean back against your seat. Like a stubborn child. “I know that,” you say. Although you were pretty sure it was only 30%. Maybe you actually should have been studying. You shake your head at the thought, then, “Can I have my phone now?”

“No!” they all say in unison.

“But what if ‘Tsumu texted?”

Yachi groans. “That’s exactly why you can’t have your phone,” she tells you. “You get way too distracted.”

“I do not.”

“Do too!”

“Oh my fucking god!” Kiyoko exclaims. She stands up and marches over to the corner of the room, furiously opening a drawer then slamming it shut. When she gets back to the table, she slides your phone over to you. “Just be quiet.”

“Okay,” you whisper, grinning as you take your phone to check it.

tsumu: u better be studying

You scream, hurling your phone across the room. The three girls look at you in disbelief as you offer them a guilty smile. “Sorry.”

The summer semester rolls away unceremoniously. You spend two weeks hunched over your desk, finishing papers and preparing for your final exams, getting an average of three hours of sleep every night. You run on nothing but coffee and instant noodles, only leaving your room to study in a different setting with your friends who are suffering too.

When you finally pass your last exam—your professor only nodding to acknowledge your existence—a wave of relief washes over you. The war has been fought. The battle is won. And you’re absolutely exhausted.

“I’m gonna sleep forever,” you say excitedly, digging into the salmon bento Atsumu brought you. “Fuck me, this is good.”

“I’ll tell ‘Samu ya like it,” he says, eating his own with gusto. “Ya can say no, but d’ya wanna come to my place tonight? We can watch movies and eat and sleep.”

You nod your head vigorously. “I’d like that,” you tell him. “I’d like that a lot.”

He smiles. “Good.”

Things between the two of you have been going well. You’ve been hanging out for more than two months now and you surprisingly feel no urge to bolt just yet. He’s a good friend and a good person, you like spending time with him. You’ve even started getting close with his friends and the rest of the volleyball team—much to Oikawa’s dismay. 

It’s even given you a reason to see Suna more, which is always nice. You’ve learned that he’s pretty much the same person when he’s around his friends. Quieter, maybe, and a little colder towards you (because you aren’t supposed to be close), but still the same Suna that you’re used to. It’s been interesting getting to know him this way. You don’t mind it at all.

Everything’s been good. You’re having a lot of fun.

Atsumu drops you off at your residence hall after lunch, promising to pick you up later. You give him a kiss and thank him before sending him on his way.

Your room is empty when you get there. Kiyoko’s probably out with Tanaka, you think as you flop onto your bed. The blankets are warm and soft and freshly washed thanks to your roommate who freaked out when you told her you hadn’t washed them in weeks.

You’ll have to get up eventually. Take a proper shower and put on something comfortable. Pack a bag for Atsumu’s place. Maybe grab a cup of coffee. But, for now, you set an alarm and let yourself sleep.

You deserve it.

The twins’ apartment isn’t what you expect at all. You’ve been to other boys’ places before and they all have a recurring theme—Suna with his dirty socks by the door, Oikawa with his hoard of unreturned clothes with price tags still on them, Iwaizumi with his giant Godzilla stuffed toy that he never acknowledges (which you should never acknowledge either)—you thought you’d find something similar in Atsumu and Osamu’s place.

But no.

All you’re met with is a barren wasteland. A living room with nothing but a plain couch and a television. A kitchen with no plates or cups or cutlery. An entryway with no shoes, no mat, no coat rack. Empty. Completely devoid of any signs of life.

“Did you get robbed?” you can’t help yourself from asking.

Atsumu lets out the loudest laugh you’ve ever heard. “It’s not that bad!”

“‘Tsumu.” Your wide gaze meets his. “Do you need money?”

He rolls his eyes at your theatrics. “C’mon,” he says, leading you to what you assume is his room. “Stop starin’ at my kitchen.”

“No, but, ‘Tsumu, seriously. There aren’t any curtains—”

When he opens the door, you’re met with, well, a regular room. A little messy, but bursting with life. The complete opposite of the rest of the apartment.

“What?”

He leads you inside and closes the door behind him. “People get a little rowdy when we throw parties here,” he explains, “So we keep all the common areas clear of anythin’ they might break or steal.”

“Ohhh,” you say, everything clicking into place. “I get it now… I think.”

After the initial shock of his apartment wears off, you realize that you’re standing in his room and decide to look around. Now, this makes more sense.

His bed has been made, albeit a little hastily, and he’s obviously shoved a bunch of clutter under the frame. He has shelves, mostly empty, save for a few textbooks and a volleyball signed by someone Oikawa would probably scream about if he knew. His desk is the tidiest part of the room, with nothing but his laptop and a stack of notebooks to the side. It makes you smile thinking about what he might look like when he’s sitting there and doing his homework.

He picks his laptop up and hops onto his bed, patting the space beside him for you to sit down. “C’mon,” he says, pulling out a bunch of snacks from his bag. “I promised ya a movie.”

You take your place beside him, letting him put his arm around you as you snuggle into his side. “And sleep,” you say, opening a pack of sour gummy worms. “You promised sleep.”

“‘Course.” He smiles, opening his laptop and going to Netflix. “So, what d’ya wanna watch?”

You settle on a romcom—10 Things I Hate About You—and you do exactly what Atsumu said you’d do. You watch and eat and drift in and out of sleep. It’s nice having him beside you, feeling his chest rise and fall with his breath. It makes you feel safe. 

When the movie ends, you decide it’s still too early for dinner, so you put on something else. This time, Atsumu picks. A horror film. The Cabin in the Woods.

As the characters on screen scream, you and Atsumu find yourselves in a rather heated makeout session. You’re straddling him, holding yourself up with both your hands on his shoulders. His legs are bent to keep you closer to him, his arms wrapped around you, hands going dangerously low.

He pulls away from your lips and starts kissing down your neck, occasionally stopping to suck at the vulnerable skin. You throw your head back and whimper, unable to bring yourself to complain about the marks he’s leaving. It just feels so good.

Without even realizing it, your hips start to grind against him, searching for some relief for the growing heat in your stomach. It’s only when you feel just how hard he is underneath his sweatpants that you come to your senses.

You look down to see him kissing your collarbone, eyes blown as he looks at you.

“Do ya wanna—”

“Yes.”

A smirk falls over his lips as he moves his mouth away from you and closes his laptop, pulling your t-shirt over your head. His hand slips behind you and unhooks your bra with practiced ease, yanking it off and tossing it to the side. He descends on your breasts, holding each with one hand, licking one nipple and playing with the other with his thumb.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, kissing the soft flesh. Then, he’s undressing you again, this time pulling down your bottoms, leaving you completely naked on top of him. He runs his large hands over your body. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

“Not fair,” you whine, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “You’re still dressed.”

Atsumu laughs at that. “Yer impatient, huh?” He cranes his neck to kiss you. “Gotta learn to wait, baby.”

Despite his words, he gets rid of his clothes anyway, helping you off of him so that he can remove his jeans and boxers. He stands at the side of the bed, rolling his clothes into a ball, his cock on full display. 

You feel yourself swallow. He’s big.

“Like what ya see?” he asks when he catches you staring.

Instead of answering him, you crawl over to the edge of the bed and take him in your hands, pumping his cock before licking the tip and wrapping your lips around it. He groans. You move your mouth up and down, using your hands to rub the parts you can’t fit. Pulling back, you swirl your tongue over the tip before moving down again.

He watches as you work, trying to memorize the way you look right now. It’s an unholy sight—you stark naked, your head bobbing up and down, sucking him off like nothing in the world matters. He could die right then and there and he’d be a happy man.

“Fuck, Y/N, yer gonna make me come,” he says before pulling your head away. You stare at him with a raised brow and he adds, “I wanna fuck ya first.”

You grin, moving aside for him to sit on the mattress before you straddle him again. “‘Tsumu,” you moan as you slide your cunt over his length. “Want you to fuck me.”

He reaches for your core and touches your clit, listening to your reactions to see what you like, dipping a finger into you and bending it until he hits the right spot. Soon, you’re nothing more than a moaning mess slumped over his shoulder.

“Ya close?” he asks, nipping at the skin near your ear.

You nod wordlessly, whimpers pouring out of your lips.

“Come for me, then.”

Your orgasm hits you like a train. It crashes into you as you stop grinding against Atsumu, your body wracked with pleasure. You hold onto him as he whispers praises into your ear.

“Did so good, baby,” he tells you, a soothing hand coming up to rub your back. “Still want me to fuck ya?”

You nod, coming down from your high.

“I need ya to say it, baby.”

“P-please fuck me, ‘Tsumu,” you say. “Please.”

He smirks. “Yer so polite,” he says, reaching over to a drawer on his bedside table and pulling out a condom. He rips the package open and slides the latex down his cock. You gulp, reminded of just how big he actually is.  “Yer such a good girl. Think ya can ride me, huh, good girl?”

You move your head mindlessly, practically drooling at the sight of him. “Yes, ‘Tsumu.”

“Go ahead then.” He nods. “Ride me.”

You lift your hips a little and take his cock in your hands. He hisses at the contact. Slowly, you line him up with your core and sink down onto him. Your eyes close at the feeling of him filling you up. When you’ve taken all of him, he gives you a moment to get settled. Then, you lift yourself up then fall back down again. The sound of slapping skin fills the room as the two of you moan at the feeling.

You do it slowly a few more times before you're bouncing on his cock, slamming yourself down again and again. You feel so full. “Feel so good, ‘Tsumu!” You moan. “So fucking good!”

His hands come up to cup your ass, fingers wrapping around the expanse of flesh. He halts your movements before drilling up into you, hard and fast. He watches as you throw your head back and your hands come up to hair.

“Yer so hot,” he says, pressing his face into your chest as he continues to thrust. “Takin’ me so well. So tight, baby.”

You can feel your second orgasm approaching. “I’m close, ‘Tsumu.”

“Let go, baby,” he tells you, voice straining slightly. He’s close too. It’s hard not to be when your pussy is gripping onto him that way, all warm and tight. “Let go for me, yeah? Like the good girl y’are.”

You let your high hit you again, hands scrambling to grab onto his shoulders. Your nails dig into his skin, scratching the flesh as he continues to move. “Fuck, ‘Tsumu!” Feeling his grip on you loosen, you start bouncing to meet his thrusts. “Come for me, baby.”

“Can I come on yer tits?”

You almost laugh at how meek the question sounds compared to everything else he’s said. “‘Course, baby.” 

You get off of him and let your knees fall to the bed. You lean down and press your chest to his groin, slipping off the rubber and pumping his cock. Your eyes stay on him as you move. He looks absolutely divine. 

In the darkness of his room, his blond hair catches a hint of light and shimmers above his head like a halo. He stares at you through his hazy gaze, the picture of a fallen angel.

Then, he throws his head back and cum shoots onto your skin. You keep moving until he puts his hand on your arm and pulls you up to kiss him. Your lips melt onto his. The kiss is nice and slow, the two of you holding onto each other as your heartbeats begin to level.

He pulls away first, grinning that boyish grin of his. 

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you say.

“Are ya hungry now?”

“Starved.”

“Let’s see if ‘Samu’s home. Get ‘im to make us dinner.”

“I hope he isn’t.” You wince. “We were kinda… loud.”

Atsumu shrugs. “Oh well.”

You hit his arm playfully as the two of you start laughing. 

He gets dressed and helps you get cleaned up, grabbing a damp towel from his bathroom and placing himself between your legs. “Sorry, sorry!” he says when you hiss as he wipes you down. “Still learning.”

“It’s okay.” You smile at him, endeared by his concern. “Just a little sensitive.”

When he’s done, he gives you one of his shirts (a jersey from his highschool team) and a pair of boxers to change into. There’s something so careful about the way he moves. Like he doesn’t want to scare you away. As you watch him go around his room—asking what you want, asking you if you’re sure you’re okay, insisting you at least drink some water—you feel your heart swell a little. It all just feels so… nice.

In fact, you’re so swept up in Atsumu that you don’t even see your phone light up in the darkness of the room. A text message just waiting for your reply.

rin: u wanna have dinner?

notes. atsumu babes hi <3 i have not forgotten about you <3 anyway!! before the plot continues plotting, lmk what team you guys are on ;)

[toxic3mmy]

prompt: you and alex hate each other but one night of your sleep talking changes everything

warning: slight mature content

________________________________________

ever since anyone could remember, you and alex hated one another.

the first time you met, he thought you were an annoying pick me, which you definitely were so far from. and you saw alexis as an arrogant prick who only thinks of himself.

the two of you had mutual friends, which was very ironic given how much you couldn’t stand one another.

your friends always ran into the issue where they couldn’t even get the two of you in the same room. it caused plenty of issues for the two of you to be together and so they settled on either not inviting the both of you at all, or the guys sticking together and the girls doing the same. but of course, the entire friend group wanted you guys to finally hash things out so they could all be together.

it was the end of spring and your mutual friends, minx, tina, rubius, and luzu decided that they’d cook up a plan to enjoy the first week of summer together even if you and alex didn’t get along.

the girls would bring the idea up to you, as the boys would to alex, and only mention that all the others would be joining you all in mexico for a few days without mentioning you or alex to the other. they would then say that there’d be three hotel rooms and you would have your own room. alex would also be told that he would be in his own room but in reality, your friends would have you and alex share a room while the others paired up. they all just really hoped that you guys could get to know each other better and maybe then you could all hangout comfortably without worrying about the tension between you and alex.

so it was set. the guys would take a flight an hour earlier than the girls and you all would meet up at the hotel.

it took no longer than a few hours to get to the airport and you were just ready to shower and sleep and visit the beach the next day.

you all finally arrived at the hotel and met with the boys in the lobby. immediately, you saw that annoying ass beanie and you already knew that alex was here too.

“why didnt you tell me alex was coming?” you whispered to tina

she simply shrugged and smiled nervously

“..and yeah, those are the plans for the week. so, any questions before we go to our rooms?” rubius asked as he went through the plans for the trip

“why is she here?”

“why is he here?”

both you and alex said almost in unison

“well.. we all just wanted to be together. and speaking of, y/n and alex you guys will be sharing a hotel room. we’re all hoping you guys can get the chance to get to know each other and get along for once.”

you and alex were silent. you both just wanted to please your friends so you agreed and all headed to your hotel rooms. you and alex were left alone as you walked side by side to your shared room.

“you’re gonna be one annoying roommate during this trip, aren’t you?” alex broke the awkward silence trying to be funny

“can you not.. its bad enough that i have to be in one of the nicest places in mexico but im forced to share a room with you?? like gross..” i rolled my eyes at him

“and you seriously think i want to deal with you for the next few days? this is going to be miserable” he replied

“ditto, bitch” i scoffed

“well, you really are going to be a huge pain in my ass you know??” alex continued to poke at me

“you’re no ray of fucking sunshine, sweetie”

we finally reach our room, i put my bags down and unlock the door. we both walk in and our eyes almost pop out of our heads.

“you have got to be kidding… one bed?! there’s no way im sleeping near you” alex scoffs annoyed

“you’re right alex, i’ll sleep on the bed and you can sleep on the floor like the dog you are”

“i’m not sleeping on the damn floor! i’m taking half the bed at least”

“fine, im feeling generous but you better stay on your side of the bed, don’t even breathe near me”

“what are you, six? i’m taking my half, man” he shakes his head

“if anyone here is a child, it’s you. but either way, stay off my side, ‘kay?” you smile sarcastically at him

“don’t call me that! i know all your insults are projections and you’re just insecure. and you won’t keep me from my rightful side of the bed”

“yeah okay, im insecure, mister ‘i wont ever take my beanie off because im most definitely bald under it’ ” you rolled your eyes

“i have more hair than your entire family, dumbass. and don’t even get me started on your insecurities, little miss constantly talking to guys and flirting when you’ve never even had a real relationship before” alex said as he crossed his arms

“oh, really? at least i talk to guys, and im not all ‘oh, you’re so p-p-p-pretty’ ” you mock him and his stuttering

“shut your mouth! i stutter and so what?? it doesn’t make me insecure, i just have trouble with words, okay?!”

“yeah, okay” you make a hand gesture of a dick going into your mouth, making fun of alex

“wow.. childish much? grow up y/n” he spat at you, sitting down on the bed and unpacking a few things, then scrolling on his phone

“alex?”

“what?”

“go fuck yourself” you smile and flick him off, angrily slamming the restroom door with your things to shower

“back at ya bitch” he said to himself, occupying himself with his phone

you take about thirty minutes to shower, get dressed, and do your nighttime routine. you’re exhausted from the plane ride and from arguing with alex that you’re ready for bed. you put everything away and slip into bed, still ignoring alex.

almost immediately, you fall asleep.

alex looked over at you as if he was going to say something. he saw you were peacefully sleeping so he continued to watch the video he had playing on his phone.

about an hour later, you found yourself deeply asleep but also tossing and turning in bed.

you throw your blanket off of you and mumbled something softly. alex thought you were talking to him so he took off one of his earphones.

he looked over at you and gulped as his eyes were drawn to the revealing pajamas you had on.

“please…” you whispered, talking in your sleep

alex perked up at the sound of your sleepy voice. were you talking to him?

“oh alex…” you practically moaned

his face was now red all over as he heard the sounds you made.

“mmmf, feels so good baby” again, you were sleeping and still a whimpering mess. you tossed and turned some more.

now this definitely gave alex an embarrassingly aching hard on. god, why was this happening? he thought of the grossest things he could to urge the pent up tension in his pants away.

he decided that he would not intervene and he would just go to sleep. so he pulled up your pajamas that were slipping off of you, covered you with the blanket, and laid down on his side. he was having trouble falling asleep as he had you on his mind. he was angry at himself for getting turned on so easily, and even more, he was pissed about how much he liked your sweet little whimpers.

right as he was about to fall asleep, he heard you mumbling again.

“i love you alex” you sighed, still asleep

alex couldn’t believe it. did you really say that? did you mean it or were you just dreaming? either way he decided to shut everything out and sleep.

——-

the next day you woke up refreshed and ready to see the beautiful city you were in. you were especially excited to visit the beach nearby. you got ready in the bathroom quietly to avoid waking alex.

alex woke up almost half an hour later and you cheerfully greeted him,

“morning ‘lex”

you got nothing in return. you frowned a bit but shrugged it off, assuming that he was still upset about having to share a hotel room with you.

you continued to get ready and finally changed into a cute purple bikini. you had a sheer top over it and some short shorts and also wore some cute platform sandals. the outfit showed off your tramp stamp and hip tattoos perfectly. you felt absolutely hot in this outfit.

you saw that alex still wasn’t ready so you let him know you were meeting tina downstairs and left.

“hey y/n, how was your first night with alex?” tina asked genuinely when you met up with her

“it was okay, we didn’t argue as much as i expected” you laughed

“well that’s some progress, right?” she asked hopeful

“i guess so yeah” you nodded

the two of you decided to meet the others for some coffee at the hotel cafeteria

alex, however, didn’t show

when everyone finished and was getting ready to head to the nearest restaurant for brunch, ruibius wolf whistled loudly at alex’s appearance

“mira que guapo, i might have to take you back to my hotel room tonight before any of the ladies here get their hands on you” he teased and alex laughed softly at him

“yeah, please get him off my hands” you rolled your eyes at alex but he ignored you completely

you shrugged it off thinking he was still upset about being stuck with you

after a brief brunch, the group headed to the beach.

you all happily headed to the beach and laid out your towels and chairs

you had found an outside bar nearby and ordered a drink. you then went back to where your friends were and laid on your chair, enjoying the sun on your skin. you took off your top and your shorts and your body instantly felt cooler.

you laughed and joked with your friends and just enjoyed their company. you noticed that alex wasn’t talking to you but he talked to everyone else and it honestly was nothing out of the ordinary. just as you were thinking of getting another drink at the bar, a tan guy appeared next to you.

“hola, estas bien hermosa y te quiero comprar un coctel. cual te gustaría, nena?” he asked as he took your hand in his, kissing it gently

“oh… lo que sea estará bien.” you blushed slightly as he smiled at you, you couldn’t help but stare at his golden abs. he was hot, there was no denying it.

he left to get you a drink and tina gave you a smirk before saying a short ‘see you later’ and she headed off with the others to take a swim in the beach.

“here you go, nena” the guy handed you the drink and asked, “como te llamas?”

“y/n, what’s your name?”

“me llamo luis, its nice to meet you y/n” he smiled softly

“y/n, i have to talk to you” alex suddenly appeared behind you and luis

“can it wait? im a little busy” you said a bit sternly to him

“no, it’s important” he grabbed your arm and turned to anthony before saying “we’ll be just a minute” he smiled fakely at luis and pulled me aside

“what’s so important that you had to interrupt?”

“put this on” he gave you your shorts and top

“what? why?”

“all these guys are just staring at you! cover yourself up y/n” alex said, annoyed at you

“so what? i can’t help it if i’m sexy”

“shut up.. you don’t understand how guys think. i don’t want anyone to take advantage of you”

“so let me get this straight, first you get upset about being stuck in a hotel room with me, then you ignore me practically all day and now all of a sudden you care about me?? and you’re trying to say i’m being a whore for showing off my body?”

“y/n… it’s really not like that” he sighed

“then what is it like?”

“well… i uh… look im sorry for ignoring you today. i just needed to think about um stuff”

“what stuff?”

“yeah, well no. i don’t know. something happened last night and i didn’t know what to think when it did”

“what happened?”

“did you have any dreams last night?”

“what?” you began to shake a bit because of course you remembered your steamy dream you had that night with alexis in it… but how did he know?

“you were talking in your sleep and um… saying my name and stuff..” alex said slowly, watching your face for your reaction

“oh… yeah um i think you were in my dream but we were uh getting massages together and-and with the um others too…” you said really fast and really nervously

“are you sure? it sounded different.. like you were dreaming of me in a more intimate manner y/n” his face was now so smug and it annoyed you

“are you kidding me?! that’s why you’ve been avoiding me more than usual? it was just a stupid dream! i mean, i even had a wet dream with obama in it once!” you huffed

alex only laughed and shaked his head

……

pt.2????

[corpsebasil]

The Summer I Loved You -> E.L. 🐚🍸🪝

Summary: you’re spending time with your friends for the end of the summer before senior year, and your childhood best friend is catching your eye more than you’d like him to

Part 1!

The sun was burning hot as you walked across the beach, the sand baking the soles of your feet and crackling with tiny shells. Tara, rambling about her latest date with a guy named Mark, passed you the Yeti cup filled with rosé so you could take a lofty sip.

A wine walk, she called it. Which is the only feasible excuse you could think of as to why the both of you were guzzling down a jumbo bottle of wine at noon, the hot Sun making you feel slightly nauseated. Or maybe, to your chagrin, the reason your stomach was turning was because of the two boys you saw up ahead.

Chads Meeks-Martin, your college roommate of three years, and your childhood best friend, Ethan Landry. Chad had a cute girl with platinum streaks in her hair tossed over his shoulder, spinning her around as she screamed with laughter. Her girlfriend, and Chad’s sister, watched in amusement. As Tara and you approached Ethan turned first, his brown curls made wilder by the salt-infused air, his toned arms tanned and bigger than they’d been when you’d seen him two months before.

The five of you would be spending two weeks in Charleston, staying at Anika’s family beach house for a last minute summer vacation before senior year of college. You’d been excited; you hadn’t seen any of them besides Tara, Chad, and Mindy since the end of the semester and, even if you shouldn’t, even if it was ridiculous, you’d missed Ethan more than anyone.

“Y/N,” he greeted, jogging over with a smile you’d known since you were kids. He nodded to Tara, sparing her a quick ‘hey’ before he tugged you into a hug, arms lifting you an inch off the sandy ground. Despite yourself you hugged him tight around the neck, your stomach twisting further at the scent of his cologne mixed with the coconut scent of Mindy’s sunscreen. “when did you guys get here? I thought you’d be here like an hour ago.”

“Tara wanted wine first.” You said, smiling sheepishly as he set you down, eyebrows raised.

You passed him the Yeti as Tara darted off to greet the other three of your friends, and he took a sip. Then he let out a long-suffering sigh, tossing those puppy-eyes of his onto your face.

“I missed you.” He said, passing the cup back as he slung an arm around your shoulders. “Mom’s been on my ass about Senior year. Internships and jobs and all that.” His expression pinched, a hint of stress tugging the corners of his mouth down. “Can you tell her to go easy on me? You’re her favorite.”

“You’re her son.”

“A biological technicality, Y/N.” His hand looped further around your shoulders to hook onto the necklace you wore, a thin chain with a small golden heart. His expression relaxed as he touched a finger to the charm. “I’m surprised you kept this.”

Your face tinged with a hint of pink and you ducked out of his grip.

“Why?” You asked, adjusting the necklace. “It was a gift.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Y/N!” Chad yelled, dashing over to scoop you up the same way he had Anika, yanking you away from Ethan and the topic of the necklace he’d purchased you. “My girl!”

You protested in vain, unable to stop a laugh from leaving you. Chad was one of your closest friends—had been since you’d been stuck together freshmen year—and it was no secret that he’d hit on you once or twice. You’d even matched at a Halloween party sophomore year, he as a shirtless (and stupidly hot) cowboy, you as a sheriff.

The two of you had inside jokes, fought over who did what chores, cooked meals together, and occasionally yelled at each other when he stayed for way too long in the bathroom or you took an everything shower.

But Ethan..

Ethan was your friend since childhood.

Ethan was the one who you called when you were upset, or tired, or bored.

Ethan had been drunk when he’d shown up to you and Chad’s shared apartment months ago, your roommate somewhere else for the night. Ethan had pounded on the door for five minutes straight while you were in the shower, his eyes red when you finally opened up the door. He was tired, he said, he couldn’t sleep, midterms were coming up and he needed you, needed to sleep on your bed. So you’d let him inside, let him collapse under your sheets, let him steal back the oversized shirt he’d left—just in case—inside your bottom drawer.

And when he’d given you the necklace he’d kept shoved in his pocket, moments before passing out, saying he’d bought it for your birthday months before but had been too chicken-shit to hand it over, you’d felt a pull to him that you’d been suppressing since you’d been a kid.

Now though, as you glanced up, eyes locking with Ethan’s, you felt a twinge in your gut as his smile faltered, his focus moving from you to Chad. You smacked your roommate’s back lightly so he’d let you down, your feet crashing back onto hot sand as you righted yourself.

“We’re barbecuing later, and then there’s a party on the beach, and then..” Chad talked as you walked, leading you towards Tara and the others, Ethan trailing behind a step.

When you glanced back he was looking at some point in the distance, seemingly deep in thought. So you hung back, shooing Chad onwards as you fell into step with Ethan, his tiny glance at you making your skin hum. He didn’t even have to say anything—his look towards Chad had ‘your roommate is obnoxious’ written all over it, and you suppressed a laugh.

“Be nice.” You whispered. It was no secret that Ethan’d never been a huge fan of Chad, though you weren’t sure why.

“I am nice. I’m so nice.”

“Surrrre.” You grinned and he bumped a shoulder against yours, tan skin brushing the untouched version of yours that would soon be just as dark. “We’ll have You and Me time, later. Don’t worry.” You said, referring to what he’d started coining as the moments the both of you would sneak off whenever his social battery inevitably drained.

“I need it.” He sighed, his head tilting, a small smile playing on his mouth, and damn you if the sight of his eyes on yours wasn’t the most gorgeous thing you’d seen all summer. But he was Ethan. And that wasn’t something you should be thinking about.

So when his fingers laced through yours, tugging you a bit quicker towards the others, snippets of their conversation coming into focus, you reminded yourself that it meant nothing.

Even if he meant everything.

-

IM MAKING THIS A MINI SERIES

[george-weasleys-girl]

Can you do a smut - George x reader - Where they're a week without spending time together, maybe cause of their work, they come home tired, anyway...

And when she talks about it, they decide to spend a night alone

"I just want you to be happy! And perhaps a little bit naked." or "When was the last time we had an entire night together, just the two of us?" 🧡 happy october🧡 and sorry, my english is rusty

Alone At Last

Warnings: pure smut, shower sex

18 +only

George Weasley x fem!reader

~•~

George collapsed on the sofa, glancing at the clock as he made himself comfortable. Y/N should be home from work soon. He smiled at the thought of having three glorious days together without having to worry about either of their jobs.

They'd both been looking forward to this little mini vacation for weeks. George had even bought Y/N a lacy little nighty just for the occasion. There was once a time when their sex life consisted of more than exhausted quickies before they passed out for the night. They both missed the days when they could just go at it for hours on end.

The thought stoked the fires of George’s desire. "Mmm," he palmed his growing erection through his pants. Obviously, his mind wasn't the only thing that missed those carefree days. He was half tempted to pull out his cock and start masturbating, his mind drifting back to the many times of one of them walked in on the other pleasuring themselves. It always led to a sleepless night filled with hot, passionate sex.

With a shuddering sigh, he decided against it, not knowing how tired Y/N would be when she got home. He didn't want her to feel pressured to do things she wasn't up for. The Ministry was working her to the bone lately, and this past week had been the worst. They'd barely seen each other at all, and George was missing his wife in more ways than just one.

~•~

A few minutes later, the familiar sound of the lock turning in the door alerted him to Y/N's arrival. He jumped up, meeting her at the door with open arms. "You're a sight for sore eyes," he sighed as she leaned into his embrace. "Another rough day, sweetheart?"

"I think I was being punished for taking a couple of days off," she tilted her head up to give George a kiss. "But it was nothing I couldn't handle."

"My poor love," George commiserated, leading her over to the sofa. "Glass of wine?" He asked.

"Yes, please," Y/N smiled, flopping back against the cushions.

"Any thoughts on dinner?" George asked as he poured them both some wine. "We could maybe go out if you wanted."

Y/N thought for a moment. She was very tempted. It'd been a while since they'd had a proper date. "Maybe tomorrow night, I don't feel like going back out again. And besides, Fred's at Angie's tonight. When was the last time we had an entire night together, just the two of us?"

"Excellent point, milady," George handed her a glass of wine. "The night is yours, then. What would you like to do first?"

"Honestly?"

"Of course," George said, sitting next to her.

"A hot shower," she admitted. "I just feel need to wash away this horrid day."

"A shower it is then," he said, kissing her cheek. "And while you're doing that, I'll order in some food. Anything in particular you'd like?"

"Nah," she said, taking a heafty sip of wine. "Whatever you want is fine with me."

~•~

The water felt wonderful, washing over Y/N like a warm summer rain. She let her mind wander, thinking about where she'd like to have dinner tomorrow night. Maybe that little Italian place that has the dance floor. It'd been forever since they'd went dancing. The memory of her scorchingly sexy husband dancing the tango reminded her of another fond memory. One which involved her moaning George's name as he pressed her against the shower door, the warm water pouring over them as he fucked her senseless. Y/N didn't even realize her hand had slipped down between her legs until her fingers began circling her needy clit, a soft moan falling from her lips.

George couldn't decide between Thai or Greek and headed into the bathroom to ask Y/N her preference. She rarely took long showers and would be getting out in a minute or two anyway. Her moans hit his ears before his eyes took in the beautiful visage of her pleasuring herself, causing his pants to become suddenly and painfully tight. He all but ripped his clothes off and proceeded to slide the shower door open slowly.

Just a quick tease, she thought. Then after dinner I'll fuck George until neither of us can see straight.

~•~

"You are so fucking hot when you moan my name," he purred, stepping into the shower with her. "But I wanna hear you scream it."

Y/N's went eyes wide, her hand stopping all movement but not pulling away from her aching pussy. Startlement shone clear on her face, but not a hint of embarrassment. She'd gotten over that long ago. Instead, she smiled, and reached out to stroke his cock. "I was just thinking about the last time we showered together."

The memory went straight to his dick and George groaned at the exquisite pleasure of her soft hand around him. "Good times," he mummered in her ear as his fingers slipped between her silky folds. "Damn baby, you're tight as a vice tonight." He grinned, pumping his fingers in and out of her as she shifted from slowly stroking his full length to quick, tight strokes around his sensitive head.

Their eyes remained locked on one another's face while their hands moved with expert precision. "You're so fucking hot when I'm jerking you off," she sighed, watching his face contort in pleasure. George responded by pressing his thumb to Y/N's sensitive nub. "Fuck, that feels so good," she moaned, throwing her head back. "I'm already so close."

"Me too," he groaned. He could feel his juices churning deep in his balls. "But I want to cum inside your tight, little cunt." Then, before she could respond George pulled his fingers out, sucking her juices off each one as he stepped back out of her grip and turned her around, pushing her against the wall. Y/N braced herself, placing her hands against the tile, and, bent over, thrusting her hips up, offering her pussy for the taking.

And take it, he did. Gripping her hips tight, he pushed forward slowly, savoring every ripple and pulse around him until he was balls deep inside her, forcing a long, loud moan from Y/N's mouth. "Fuck George, I love your fucking cock!"

"I know you do, baby," he grunted, thrusting into her. "Fills you up so perfectly."

"Yes," she gasped. "Makes me feel so good. So full."

Her words sent a surge of pleasure pulsing through his veins, and he picked up his pace. Their moans filled the room and mingled with the sound of their wet skin slapping together, creating a symphony of ecstasy that drove them both right to the edge. George shifted his angle, hitting the special spot deep within her that only he could reach.

"Fuck yes, George! Right there!" Y/N screamed, clenching hard around him as her orgasm ripped through her. George followed seconds later, groaning her name into her ear.

~•~

They sank down into the tub, a jumble of arms and legs. Y/N leaned over and turned off the rapidly cooling shower before collapsing back onto his heaving chest.

"Damn, that was incredible," George chuckled. "I need to interrupt your showers more often."

"You definitely do. Especially if it's going lead to that," she agreed, then shifted so she could face him. "Why did you come in here anyway?"

"I couldn't decide between Thai food or Greek. Thought I'd let you be the tie-breaker."

Y/N thought for a second before answering. "Thai," she grinned. "Let’s keep with the hot and spicy theme."

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @xmjthewitchx @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @samberriejams @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @mrsgweasley @hufflepuffie @morally-grey-obsessed @fredweasleyyyyy @anvaaryn @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @hmisa11 @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16 @kaysau2510 @qmylovexoxo @planetkt @costheticbabe @drama-queen-fromthevault @smallsweetvanillabean @hanne-montana @greenapplegrass @el-de-phi @lizzytrees @scooby-doo1995 @spididerman @yoursarahg @marvelgirlstories @theimpossible-girl-whowaited @ceehance @Havenater1920 @jelloangela @charmedfandomgal @loca4moony @whotfskai @netflix-addict @lunacurlclaw

[d0nk3y-k0ng]

༉‧₊˚. i ain't had no good dick in some months, should i be scared of you?

tw: f!reader (in either early or mid twenties), needy!reader, postmanga/timeskip!sakusa, talkative!sakusa, fiance!sakusa no use of y/n (CUZ IT ALWAYS TURNS ME OFF), praise kink, tit sucking, fingering, clit sucking, pussy eating, p0rn WITH a LITTLE plot, use of personal headcanons, reader gets called sweetheart, baby, good girl, etc.

w.c.: 1.03k words

dividers by @cafekitsune and @inklore i think

author notes: guysss omg i'm so excited this is my first ever oneshot (drabble?) plsss don't let this floppp i honestly thought my first piece would be jjk but here we are.... writing haikyuu.... anyways thank you for reading love u all <3 also the song title is edible by flo milli :3 PLS also give me constructive criticism i am so open to it + this is only part 1, so if yall want part 2 pls say soooooooooooo tag list: @kyamiia @nessieartss @screampied @sttoru @gleasonlovesjasontodd @jeannineee @suguriin (if you wanna be tagged or removed from tag list, pls ask!)

kiyoomi sakusa.

back when he was just a 16 year old in high school, he was considered a genius. a prodigy.

what kind of second-year was one of the top three spikers in the nation? outrageous.

and now he's 27, playing for one of the best teams in the world, the msby black jackals, with his former teammates and some new, destroying team after team.

he's a neat freak, a blunt teammate, completely anti-social, and a heavy hitter on spikes.

but what only you knew was different.

he's also a great cook, a passionate lover that doesn't need just words to show his love and a gorgeous dick that you swore to your best friend punctures your lungs every time it's inside you.

speaking of which, when was the last time it was inside of you?

"sweetheart," he calls from the kitchen. "will you come taste test this soup for me?"

summers were either spent at kiyoomi's parent's old beach house in malibu or the lake lodge in the grassy plains of switzerland. this year, to relax before his games in the fall and winter, and before you got married, you two decided to stay at the lodge. it was a two-story house with a veranda on the top floor and a 40 acre property. you lounge on the couch in the living room in one of his spare jerseys, watching TV before he calls you over.

"sure," you stand up, padding over to the kitchen.

oh, good god.

he looks like a dream. shirtless with gray sweats and curly hair slightly damp from a recent shower. not to mention that packing bulge poking out of his sweats. kiyoomi turns towards you, holding out a spoonful of his special potato soup.

"here," he tips your chin to gently spoon-feed you. it tastes wonderful, to say in the very least. he turns back around, sighing as he washes the spoon off with soap and water. typical.

"i feel like there's something off about it," he continues. "i can't really tell."

"maybe a little more salt?" you say, leaning on the counter, licking your lips. "pepper?"

"pepper?" he frowns. "maybe so-"

his sentence is cut off as you tug at the waistband of his sweats. he gulps. when you look at him with those eyes, and that little pout in your upper lip, who is he to refuse?

"baby," his voice turns a little breathy and he turns the stove off. "you know what you're doing, you know damn well-"

"when's the last time we fucked, kiyoo?" you wheedle. "we haven't since we came here. it's been weeks, i just need you."

he closes his eyes and runs his fingers through his hair. composure, he reminds himself. i need to focus on composure.

but he looks back at you, and there is no way he's going to say no. he licks his lips, turns to the sink, and furiously washes his hands and dries them off before grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you over his shoulder.

you yelp, giggling. "did you really have to wash your hands before this?" you ask as you're carried to the master bedroom upstairs. kiyoomi's hand reaches up to knead your thigh.

"i don't want my pussy to get dirty." he says quietly, before shoving open the door with his knee and placing you on the bed, reaching to remove both your clothing. he cups your breasts, groaning softly. you bite your lip to keep yourself from making too much noise.

he lifts your upper back to suckle on it with his eyes closed, and you moan.

"kiyoo," you mewl, reaching down to slip your fingers under your panties. his eyebrows furrows as he feels you move, and he gently grabs your hand.

"my pussy," he repeats against your skin. kiyoomi nips at your bud before trailing his lips down your abdomen, your navel, and the apex of your thighs. he slides your panties down and spreads you apart, blinking slowly at the slick sight, and humming in satisfaction.

"look at that," he coos, leaning down to give your clit a kiss, and you whimper, sliding your hands into his downy hair. "shit, look at how soaked you are." he licks a lazy circle against your pearl, and you bite back a shriek from the jolt of pleasure. "didn't know you were this needy, baby, shoulda told me sooner,"

you squeeze your eyes shut, your grip tightening on his hair.

"easyyyy," he soothes. "keep your eyes on me, alright? i'm gonna put a finger in now. remember your safe words," slowly, agonizingly slowly, he dips his middle finger in. from playing volleyball for over a decade, his fingertips are rough and calloused, his knuckles are exaggerated, and they move smoother inside your tight channel. you moan heavily.

"mnnn- fuck, oh my god..." you warble.

"i thank god for granting me this pretty pussy every waking moment of my life," he stuffs a second finger inside, pressing down on that particularly spongy spot that makes you writhe. "mm. guess i found the good spot," he slowly fucks his fingers in and out, eyebrows knitted tightly together in concentration. you whine, tugging at his hair as he sucks your clit as well.

"good girl," he croons. "look at that. taking my fingers like a champ, huh? y'close?" he delivers another kiss to your bud, and takes his fingers out to plunge his tongue in, mouthing at your labia. "holy shit," kiyoomi mutters. your lower stomach tightens as he continues, praising you and lapping at your cunt with abandon.

"kiyoo, shit, feels- ahn-!" your eyes cloud with tears.

"i know, baby, i know, feels nice, hm?" he licks faster, pressing down on your stomach.

"ahn-" you cry out urgently. "f-fuck, i'm gonna-" the tension in your stomach releases, and you squirt, releasing your fluids over his lower face and neck.

"oh, god, i just squirted all over you," you mumble, embarrassed. you know he'll be grossed out, but instead he looks some off his lip, tasting it.

"could use some salt," he smiles wickedly as he spreads your thighs apart further and positions himself above your entrance. "maybe pepper?"

fanfic by d0nk3y-k0ng

original character by haruichi furudate

[xoxovalrea]

Ifhy. Fugishiro m. + !fem reader

🎀Based on this audio🎀

༊*·˚ Warnings-  hatefuck-ish, rude words, alcohol use, mentions of weed, dom megumi, sub reader, smut

༊*·˚ A/n: pretend megumi is gojos bsf cus this isn’t like yuji😇☺️

༊*·˚ Sypno: You’re at a party you came for one sole reason, your crush. Just to find out he has a gf. Butt things work out in the end.

⋆·˚ ༘ * MINORS DNI🕊️ ⋆·˚ ༘ *

You liked gojo for a while. A while as in one whole college semester and two weeks during the summer. To back track you gave up on him after a party a specific party at that was of course hosted by the man himself Gojo and his dick of a best friend megumi. You three were friends you and megumi were even in the same classes but there was always this tension between you guys.

Anyways, your bestie nobara heard about a party gojo is hosting. Of course being the best friend ever she encourages you to go because “he might see how hot you are and tap that i would too honestly” you hit her and you both laughed in response. 

Fast forwarding to the night of the party, you took a nap because shit you were fucking tired from all the beach trips you did previously throughout the week. You woke up two hours prior which was NOT enough time to get ready but who the hell shows up for a party the time it starts? You hopped in the shower cleaning off all the crusties and musties you had. You of course shaved EVERYTHING just in case Nobara was right. But you had a feeling the night would not go as planned. 

There wasn’t really a theme but you knew it was a typical house party. So you threw on a black halter top and a beige mini skirt you didn’t really care about with some black shoes. You sprayed some type of sweet smelling perfume on and called nobara.

“Bitch pick up“ you looked at the ringing facetime call. She finally answered looking like she was driving. “Heyyy you look cutee girlie” she smiled at you. “Thank you pooka what the fuck should i do to my hair pony with a side part or down with a side part” she nodded and held up a 1. You quickly did your hair and headed out of your apartment complex and saw nobara’s white honda civic in front of the place. 

“Hi my fav girl” you said as you entered her car. She was putting on some sort of lipgloss. She basically had on the same thing as you but with tan pants total copy cat.  “Soo have you even been talking to satoru.” She questioned as she started heading to the party. “Yea a bit he is just so damn hard to talk to like just a few weeks ago he texted so much and now im unadded on everything” She looked at you with disappointment in her eyes knowing you’re gonna spend this whole party sulking over him. Funny thing is you definitely didn’t well for the record you didn’t cry at all but you got upset and other things but for the record you didn’t cry

See what you didn’t know is megumi liked you and hated the fact that you were wrapped all around Satoru’s finger. He hated the fact that you would stare off at him and just blank out everytime you, him, and satoru hung out. He purposely let gojo fall inlove with another girl and he would casually just let gojo ghost you. He went as far as to even setting gojo up on a date just so he couldn’t have you. He wanted you to forget about him in more than one way.

Anyways, nobara just nodded and said “maybe you should try his bestfriend he’s pretty cute” you looked at her like she was crazy “oh he HATES my fucking guts nobara. he wants me dead like the stares he gives me are the worst” you whine she shrugs her shoulders and adds  “well maybe megs wants to rearrange them you know its always the quiet ones” she giggles as you punch her shoulder and blush. You guys arrive to the party at around 9:30 ish As soon as you step into the house the thick sent of weed engulfs your lungs. Yea you smoked every 5 months but that smell could be the worst but the best at the same time.

You see nobara walk off leaving you all alone. “Well just say fuck me huh” you mutter to yourself trying to find the kitchen. You see megumi pouring himself a drink a simple one at that rum and coke. “excuse me” you say pushing past him to get a cup and some pink Whitney and a sprite . He looked you up and down rolling his eyes and scoffing “all dressed up huh“ he says taking a sip of his drink. You finish pouring your drink, “yea i guess“ you laugh “well you look like a slut” he chuckles trying to insult you “you must like sluts“ you reply as you walk off to find nobara. Feeling his eyes piercing through your skull. Yea megumi was cute but his attitude was fucking terrible. 

As you walk around you see gojo kissing a girl. You felt every bone in your body twitch with not with hate just sadness. Being honest you only liked his attention he was cute but his attention was amazing. The playful texts the calls everything it was amazing. You felt a tear run down your face and you walked upstairs towards the bathroom bumping into megumi who scowled at you.

You gained your composure after a solid 5 minutes of standing in the mirror with a burning throat feeling you couldn’t even cry. You sat on the stairs scowling and pouting at gojo and his new girlfriend. She was beautiful really really beautiful. You were snapped out of your thoughts when someone pushed you. It was megumi standing infront of you. 

“Enjoying the view?” Megumi questions as he laughs. “Go to hell” you say looking up at him pouting. “Already there” you roll your eyes as he sits down next to you. “the outfit didnt work huh?” He pouts at you as you shift over. “You know you could probably fuck anyone here but your too focused on gojos dick” you roll your eyes again trying not to curse megumi out “you wanna bet?” You say out of confidence. “Oh you’d lose in an instant”

You remember what nobara said and sigh. You grab megumi’s hoodie and straddle his lap seeing his face tint pink. “Are you fucking crazy” you roll your eyes as if he isnt getting rock hard under you right now. “Your not even pushing me off dont deny it now” you laugh looking into his low glossy eyes. “Well fuck kiss me.” He says you hesitate a little looking at gojo who obviously isnt paying any mind to yall. You kiss him gently holding his face. You feel him get harder by the second as you grind on his lap trying to get some friction.

Megumi snakes his hands around your waist. He sighs a bit as he deepens the kiss and carries you into gojos room.  He quickly opens and shuts the door pushing you against the wall kissing you harder. He hooked his hands under your bra cupping your breasts.

“You’re such a slut you know that right?” You gasp in response as he pinches your nipples. You think about how wrong this is especially fucking Gojos best friend in his room. You snap out of your thoughts from the feeling of being picked up megumi still dominating your mouth as he sits you on the bed. “Come on baby open that pretty mouth let me fuck it” he unzips his pants pulling them down along with his underwear. Revealing his pale colored dick suprizingly he was pretty big. He shoved his length in your mouth making you gag violently. He groaned loudly as he slowly thrusted in your mouth picking up pace by the second.

“So fucking wet and warm” he growled as he fucked your throat at this point he should be in your lungs because you can barely breathe with his length. “Look at me pretty girl” he said as he held your face you looked at him with cock drunk eyes and spit running down your chin. He rolled his eyes and took his cock out of your mouth. “lay down and spread your legs” he ripped your skirt off examined the wet spot on your panties and whispered a low fuck. Yes you hated megumi but fuck it felt so good to see a man look at your body like a starved animal. He kissed up and down your thighs leaving small marks, finally he slid your panties off revealing your arousal and pocketed them. He kissed the soft fleash of your pussy then licked a long stripe from your hole to your clit. You shivered at the sensation after a long minute of licking he finally sucked your clit making your hand jolt to his hair.

You arched and moaned as megumi ate you out. Really his tounge was skilled the muscle knew every spot inside and out of your body. “More” you uttered out in pleasure and he added two fingers in. You gripped his hair tightly from the sudden stretch he growled as you tightened around him. His fingers hit every spot you couldn’t its like you hated him for making you feel this good but at the same time you loved every second of it. You didn’t realize how this whole time he was watching expressions until he spoke “no come on baby look at me look at me and cum all over my face” you opened your eyes as your orgasm suddenly began building up you were seconds from coming eyes tearing up body shaking you came all over his fingers he lapped up your sweet liquids and came up to kiss your neck.

“Surprisingly you taste really fucking good” you scoffed at him he chuckled and slapped your ass harshly “Say thank you” you rolled your eyes “for what? Gojo’s probably better” you knew what you were doing you’re making him jealous it really fucked him up seriously. He looked at you like you were fucking stupid “Take it back” you laughed repeating what you said “really okay” he kissed you roughly biting your lip making it bleed breaking the kiss then flipping you into doggy style pushing your head into gojos pillows slapping your ass harshly multiple times then slapping his dick on your pussy. He slid it in quickly thrusting in giving you no time to adjust. Your eyes were rolling back head foggy not even 10 minutes in thats how good his dick was. You tried not to moan loud but megumi didn’t like it he grabbed your neck and yanked your head back to look at him. “Come on moan like the slut you are” you had no choice really you moaned his name loud enough for the whole house to hear luckily the music was up extremely loud. “Megumi fuck too big I can’t-“ he shoved your head back into the pillows he hated the word ‘can’t’ it just wasn’t in his vocabulary.

“Fuck megumi please im sorry” you dont know how many orgasms or how many positions megumi put you in but you know he wasnt even close to cumming and you guys ended up on the floor. “No no you want gojo right dont even think about moaning my name slut.” He smacked your ass harshly as he twitched inside of you as you came again. “Sorry ‘m so so sorry” you say slurred he laughs as he watches your make up run down your hot cheeks biting your shoulders again “awhh you want my cum baby? Or you want gojo to fill you up?” You shake your head no violently he doesn’t take this as an answer and slaps your ass four times making you scream. “Please you i want only you please cum in me please” you moan as he rubs your clit violently groaning and picking up his speed as be finally climaxes inside of you. “Fuckk baby you feel so fucking good” he shutters as he pulls out putting his cum back in with his fingers. Fingering you slowly to your last climax. You arch your back and cry his name as you squirt all over his fingers with a slight shake as you slowly fall asleep.

He picks you up off the floor and places you on the bed seeing you fall asleep. He laughs and puts on his clothes and dresses you carrying your sleeping body over his shoulders down the stairs letting gojo and nobara you guys are leaving. You woke up in the morning groggy and sore from last nights events, you felt a hand pull you in closer as you tried to get away. “Stop fucking moving” you rolled your eyes but obliged when the not so mysterious man behind you kissed your neck. “Megumi stop” you rolled over and kissed his lips softly as he looked at you with sleepy eyes arms still wrapped around your waist. He buried himself in your breasts and fell back asleep you did the did same resting your chin in his hair.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

      THE END💗

 This may be the last jjk fanfic I write as of rn😭 i gotta move on. Bye lovessss💗💗💗

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Summer in the 305 || LS2 {2}

Pairing: Logan Sergeant x fem!reader Summary: Logan comes home to Miami (305) for the summer break and you become attached at the hip. Warnings: 18+ only, made, smut, fluff WC: 1.7k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three

Logan must have managed to get some sleep on the flight because he was already up when you woke at noon. Sooty barely lifted his head from where he lay panting in his favourite spot in the sun, too tired from his morning run. After stopping to pet his head you walked into the kitchen and found your boyfriend shirtless, his hair still damp from the shower he had taken. You wrapped your arms around his waist and closed your eyes again as you rested your head against his back and started to doze off again.

“Go back to bed, sweetheart,” he said softly. He placed the knife down after finishing the lemon slices for the sweet tea he was brewing and reached over to the sink, almost pulling you off balance with the stretch to wash the acid off his hands.

“I’m good here. You can carry on, you won’t even notice me.”

He chuckled as your yawn warmed his back and he dried his hands. “You’re lucky I already went for a run then,” he teased as he grabbed your thighs and jumped, pulling you up onto his back. “There, better?”

You wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck before resting your cheek on his head. “Much.”

“I wonder if this is how the teenage mutant ninja turtles felt carrying their home on their back,” he mused as he crossed the kitchen to put the carafe of tea into the fridge.

“You would be the one that likes pizza. Wait, did you eat dinner for breakfast?”

“Maybe…” He was quiet for a moment, but the shelf it had sat on in the fridge had clearly been emptied and you pouted at missing out. “But I did save you a plate in the microwave.”

You untangled yourself from him and slid down his back onto your feet as your stomach rumbled loudly. He caught your hand as you aimed for the microwave and he tilted his head, tapping his cheek until you gave him the kiss he was after. With a grin he turned his head at the last moment to catch it on his lips and you laughed at the sly move before indulging in another, deeper kiss.

“What’s the plan for today, babe?” you asked while the meal reheated.

He leaned back against the cupboards and crossed his ankles. “Did you have anything in mind?”

You dragged your eyes slowly up and down his body before sending him a suggestive wink. “Maybe…”

He bit his bottom lip as it started to curl up and said, “I’ll have to check my calendar, but I think I can fit something in.”

“But not right now,” you stated as the microwave dinged and you hit the button to open it, the mouthwatering scent and steam wafting out. “Carbone’s trumps everything.”

Logan reached past you with a tea towel before you could burn yourself and placed it on the marble island before kissing the top of your head. “Can’t argue with that, sweetheart.”

Logan watched patiently as you speared the food with your fork, following it to your parted lips before he reached out and thumbed a dash of sauce that lingered at the corner. “You are torturing me,” he groaned as you took your time with the meal, humming exaggerated sounds with each mouthful.

“Oh? Did you want some?” you asked innocently.

He pushed off from the kitchen side and spun the barstool around to face him as he stepped into the gap between your legs, forcing them wider as your head tipped back to meet his eyes. “I want something sweet, sugar.”

You could feel his want pressing against you as you pulled his face down to yours, meeting him halfway with a desperate kiss. If you hadn’t been so tired from the late pick up last night this wouldn’t be the first time reconnecting after his two and a half weeks away. All those nights spent without him came roaring back and you moaned as his kiss drifted down your neck and he sucked the delicate spot above your collarbone.

“Lo, take me back to bed.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Logan’s feet remembered the path through the house intimately, not needing to look where he was going when his vision could be completely consumed by you instead. He loved to just watch you, watch your reactions to the world around you, he could spend hours watching you sleep while he battled jet lag and whatever worries plagued his sleep. Watching you calmed him in a way nothing else ever would - it had been that way from the moment he saw you. 

“I love you,” he said quietly after laying you on the messy unmade bed, taking a moment to just remember how you looked right there. He inhaled deeply in awe as he saw the love reflected in your eyes and then he noticed your lips already swollen from his kiss and the air left his lungs. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Lo.”

His palms brushed the shirt up your thighs and you lifted your hips up so he could free you of the panties you wore before taking your shirt and casting it away as well. You wanted nothing more than to hook your leg around him and pull him closer but patience was one of Logan’s many virtues and he loved to worship your body before all else. Where Logan was all hard, toned muscles and strength, you were soft and supple, moulding to his hands as they roamed your body.

Your back arched to his touch and a soft moan graced his ears when he kissed his way across your stomach and up to your breasts. Your eyes fluttered shut as his warm tongue flicked your already peaked nipple before his lips sealed around it and sucked.

“Logan,” you whined, the sound high and needy as you reached for him, palming the erection that strained in his boxers. “I want to taste you too.”

He smiled at the sound and chuckled as he swiped a thumb over your lips. “Later, sweetheart. The second these touch me I’d be gone,” he admitted unabashedly.

You giggled at the honesty and let him take his time, this time at least. You had three weeks of having him home and you were going to drown yourself in him, but right now you would be patient - as difficult as the task was when his lips were set to ignite your blood on fire.

The room filled with the sound of your moans as you looked down your body and met his eyes, as pure and blue as Biscayne Bay. You could feel every and nothing all at once. Light danced around your eyes even when you closed them and still his fingers and tongue worked to keep the waves of pleasure rolling through you.

“P-please, oh, Logan,” you cried as your legs trembled around his head and he gave one last lick that sent a jolt through you.

“Hmm, taste so sweet, sugar,” he hummed as he licked his lips and kicked his boxers off. His dick spring free and slapped his navel before he wrapped his fist around it and took his place between your legs, a thick bead of precum already welling at the tip.

The first orgasm was still fluttering with aftershocks when he guided his cock to your entrance. You never felt anything more perfect than the moment where a little push was all that was needed, where the resistance broke and he thrust home where he belonged - filling you so completely that your bodies become one.

You couldn’t think, you could barely breathe. You could only feel him. He surrounded not just your body but your entire being, his natural scent that no body wash could beat, the taste of his skin you gently grazed with your teeth, the vision of losing himself in the moment, the sounds of his uneven breaths in your ear.

“Shit,” he groaned as his head collapsed to your shoulder and you felt his cock pulsing in your cunt. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

You giggled as you picked his head up to see his eyes set in an extremely relaxed face. “It has been a while, Lo,” you assured him with a smile. “I still love you.”

“And you felt so good.” He kissed your lips and made no move to leave as he started to slowly roll his hips. “Still feel so good.”

His release mixed with yours and escaped your body as he fought against the sensitivity he was feeling, basking in the slick warmth your body offered until he started to grow hard again. “This is how good you make me feel, sugar.”

You followed his line of sight to where your bodies joined and watched his long smooth strokes into you, feeling every inch as it disappeared. Your breath hitched as he retreated, leaving you empty as you saw his cock coated and shiny with come after each thrust. “Fuck,” you moaned as your head fell back to the pillow and your core tightened, the vision still playing in your mind as his thumb found your clit. He wasn’t going to come again until you did.

It was mid-afternoon by the time you re-emerged from the bedroom and Sooty seemed to have recovered from his run as he bounced around the living room excitedly. Logan grabbed the ball he dropped at his feet and opened the large glass doors into the backyard, tossing it out onto the grass for Soot to fetch. It was almost instantly dropped back at his feet, the dark tail wagging up a storm.

“You look like you need another run, boy. What do you say? Should we take mommy to the beach?”

You took the two glasses of sweet tea you had poured and gave one to Logan as Sooty barked his answer. “That sounds like a yes to me. Why don’t you see what the boys are up to? They were as desperate for you to come home as I was, Callum especially.”

Logan grinned at the news of his close knit friends and he had promised them a good catch up over the break. Pulling out his phone he fired off a quick message to the group chat and was quickly bombarded with replies and a plan was made. Pocketing the device, he pulled you into his arms and watched the palm trees and ocean move with the breeze.

“Good to be home?” you asked softly as he fell quiet with reflection.

“Better than good. There’s not a word to describe it. It’s exactly what I need right now.”

logansargeant

Liked by yourusername, williamsracing, clementnovalak and 37,273 others logansargeant: Home is where the heart is. Time to rest, recharge and re-emerge stronger. ↳ yourusername: whoever took those stunning photos has serious talent (it also helps that it is impossible to get a bad photo of you) ahem… username1: in y/n we trust, out there doing god’s work for the Williams girlies. view all comments

Click here for part three.

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[celtic-crossbow]

You’re My Gravity

Pairing: Daryl x GN!Reader

Setting: Commonwealth

Warnings: Mentions of illness

Summary: A virus has hit home not long after the events of 11x24 Rest in Peace. You’re doing all you can to help but you’re worried Daryl has already done too much.

A/N: Request by @twigg96 can be found here. I’m not super stoked about how this one turned out. I’m so sorry that it came out a hot mess. I hope it’s at least a little entertaining! Even so, I may do the other prompt you gave me as a show of apology.

Prompt: “Look, you don’t like hospitals, I know, but I don’t think we can wait any longer.”

The hospital was apparently the place to be that day. Lifting the box over your head, you muttered apologies while slipping between folks left and right. Suddenly, the bandana Daryl had tied over your mouth and nose didn’t seem so unreasonable. The Commonwealth had been hit with another nasty virus, thus effectively leaving a gap in their usually well stocked supplies.

You and Daryl had taken several others on a week-long run. You had been successful but the trip had left you tired, dirty, and longing for about three days in bed with your favorite bowman.

“G’on, get.” He had playfully shoved you toward the hospital and called Dog, walking away with a chuckle. He had definitely seen you stomping your feet like a disgruntled toddler.

“Someone order a bunch of medical shit with names I can’t and won’t even try to pronounce?” Giving the box a gentle shake, you greeted Tomi with a nod and a smile that he couldn’t see.

“You can’t pronounce band-aid?” The surgeon teased. He took the box from you and you stepped aside to allow the other boxes to be brought inside. “Looks like the trip was a success! Y/N, this is wonderful!”

“How dare you doubt me!” You feigned offense with a hand over your heart. “I’m wounded, sir!” He laughed with you but you could see the exhaustion on his face. Staff had been rotating to try and ease the burden, but even with volunteers, their numbers were minuscule. “Listen, I’m gonna go shower and hit the hay for a while but maybe I can come back later and help out?”

“Thank you, Y/N. Truly.”

You patted the man’s shoulder with a nod and made your way outside. The air felt nice with the gentle breeze whispering over your skin as you pulled down the bandana. Autumn had always been your favorite season. Though you didn’t know what month it was, it was clear that summer days had passed. The leaves had turned colorful and were falling. Daylight hours had lessened. Most of all, you didn’t feel like you were cooking in your own skin each time you stepped outside.

“Daryl, I’m home!” You closed the door behind you, hearing the tap-thump of Dog shooting down the stairs to greet you. “Hey, boy.” His bowl was quickly filled with some leftovers that had been set aside for him, and you continued upstairs, longing for sleep. The door to your room was closed, something Daryl often did when he was there before you. He was a light sleeper and would hear you enter that way.

Except today. You found yourself leaning against the doorframe to watch him sleep. The archer had not even pulled down the sheets, simply sprawled out over them, fully clothed. You were tired but never too tired to take care of him. Making your way to the bedside, you brushed his hair back and placed a kiss on his temple.

“Hey, you. Let’s get you settled properly, yeah?” His brow furrowed and relaxed, but he made no attempt to move. With a smile and a shake of your head, you moved down and started unlacing his boots. Maybe the movement would be enough to rouse him a bit. It wasn’t until you started pulling off the second boot that he stirred. “Hi.”

“Hey.” His gravelly voice was laced with sleep. He gently swatted away your hands when you reached for his shirt, intent on helping him remove it. Any other time, he would have definitely let you.

“You wanna shower?” You asked while stripping out of your own clothing.

“Nah.” His trousers hit the floor and he kicked them aside, stepping on the toes of his socks to pull them from his feet. Leaving his boxers on, he pulled back the sheets and climbed back into bed, watching you get yourself ready. You might tease him later about how adorable he looked with those long, slow blinks of half-lidded eyes.

You didn’t make him wait long before joining him. The moment you laid down to face him, his eyes closed. ‘He must be exhausted.’ You thought. Daryl would usually move about the house with nervous energy once he returned from outside the walls. He could never settle immediately. Still, he was known for running himself ragged for the community. You had to keep an eye on him.

You couldn’t be sure how long you laid there, watching him sleep. The next thing you knew was a pitch black room and an empty space next to you. You sat up and wiped at your eyes, squinting to see through the sleepy haze still clinging to your vision. Dog was perched at the bathroom door, nearly blocking the light creeping from underneath it. Knowing where Daryl was, you stretched and laid back down. Tomi would understand if you didn’t come in to volunteer.

Just as you closed your eyes, there was a quiet, distressed whine from Dog, followed by the unmistakable sound of retching. You were at the door in seconds. “Daryl?” He didn’t respond but the sink began to run. You looked down to see his shadow moving. You tried again, rapping your knuckles lightly against the wood. “You okay?”

The door opened and you immediately stepped back as Daryl emerged. He was already dressed though you wondered where he was going. It was hard to see in the dark but he appeared sweaty, his hair sticking to his neck.

“Daryl?”

“M’alright.” His voice was more hoarse than usual.

“Yeah, I’m not so sure about that. Were you just throwing up?” You eyed him suspiciously as he sat down (collapsed) onto the edge of the bed and began to pull on his boots. When he didn’t answer, you stepped closer. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Said m’fine.” There was no bite to his words. He just sounded…tired. When you reached for him, he leaned out of reach and stood, patting his leg to call Dog. “Takin’ him for a walk.”

“Okay.” You conceded. If he felt like walking around with Dog, he must not be too bad off. “Be safe.” The jerky nod was visible enough and then he was gone.

You crawled back into bed and stared up at the ceiling. ‘He’s fine.’ Time passed as you tossed and turned, sleeping in small increments only to wake up and find he had not yet returned. ‘He’ll be back soon. He’s okay.’ Sunrise came and went, and you told yourself that this was Daryl. It wasn’t abnormal for him to stay gone for hours. He was well known in the community. People were always asking for his help or advice. Ignoring the gnawing feeling in your gut, you went about making breakfast, enough for both of you. ‘He’s fine.’

You were raking the eggs onto two plates when there was a strange sound at the front door. The pan and plates were quickly forgotten. “Hello?” You called just a few steps from the entrance. When the scratching happened again, it was accompanied by a familiar bark. “Dog?” The door was jerked open so fast that the poor animal leapt back, but his barking persisted tenfold once he saw you.

And Daryl was nowhere in sight.

That feeling of dread was back. “Where’s Daryl, boy?” You didn’t bother changing out of your t-shirt and flannel pants, and the house slippers on your feet were going to get the job done. Dog bolted and you followed, leaving the door open behind you. People were moving about, offering waves and greetings but you ignored them. Daryl would never send Dog unless he couldn’t come to you himself and there was no person he could send instead to tell you not to worry.

Dog cut down a narrow alley, quite a ways ahead of you. He knew you could see him. That dog was smarter than most humans you knew. The alley was one you knew well. It was a way to cut through the center of town and get to Carol’s house. You wondered why he would send Dog from Carol’s as you turned to enter the alley. And your heart stopped.

Dog was jumping around and barking in front of a figure slumped against the wall. And you’d know that mop of hair anywhere.

“Daryl!”

The concrete stung your knees when you dropped to his side, immediately assessing your partner. The first thing you noticed was the heat radiating from his skin. The second thing was the puddle of sick a few feet away.

“Goddamn you, you stubborn jackass!” You admonished him loudly, taking his face between your hands to lift his chin from his chest. His eyes snapped open, fever bright and wild. It took a moment for recognition to seep into his gaze.

“Y/N.” He sounded worse than he had last night.

“Dog, go get help! Go on, boy!” The canine tilted his head, barked once, and then took off while you turned your attention back to the archer. “Daryl Dixon, I knew you were sick!” You shouted while he coughed into his elbow.

“Maybe jus’ a lil’.”

You opened your mouth to speak but didn’t get the chance before he shoved you back a few feet. “What the fuck?”

“Don’t want ya gettin’ sick too.” The look he gave you conveyed that he hadn’t meant to push you that hard. “M’sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You moved right back into his space and could have laughed at his expression. “If I get sick, we’ll handle it then.” You brushed his hair behind his ears and away from his face as he let his head fall back against the wall. “Look, you don’t like hospitals, I know, but I don’t think we can wait any longer.” You looked up to footsteps running toward you. Carol and Aaron, followed by Dog.

Daryl gave a nod, resigned. “Yeah, okay.”

“He sick?” Aaron asked. He was already pulling up his bandana before you nodded. Carol quickly followed suit and kneeled down beside Daryl.

“Hey, Pookie.” She mimicked your earlier gesture of brushing back his hair. “Can you stand?”

You stood and stepped back so Aaron could move in to help. Daryl looked like he might try to get up on his own but then deflated and shook his head.

It was a long, slow walk but the four of you finally made it. Carol and Aaron stood outside while Tomi looked Daryl over and asked about his symptoms, confirming it was indeed the same virus. He was quickly given a fever reducer and was asleep before they started the IV for fluids. You refused to leave his side, but no one was brave enough to ask you to in the first place.

It had been hours since you’d arrived. You were gazing out the window when you heard the archer stirring. Turning, you watched quietly as his brow furrowed just before his eyes blinked open. It was easy to tell he was confused, as well as when everything came back to him. He slowly looked around until his eyes landed on you. You stared back but said nothing. It was he who looked away first.

“S’pose you’re pissed off, huh?” He asked quietly, intently focused on picking at his palm.

“Damn right, I’m pissed off.” He didn’t flinch but you could tell he wasn’t unaffected. You stood there for a few moments longer before sighing and plopping down in the chair beside his bed. You reached for the hand he was picking at and pulled it toward you, lacing your fingers through his. “Why didn’t you just tell me you were sick? It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve taken care of you.”

Daryl lowered his eyes, his free hand now toying with a loose thread on the blanket. The man never could keep from fidgeting when having a one-on-one conversation. “S’just—they depend on me, y’know? If m’sick—”

“There are others that can step up so you can take care of yourself, Daryl.” You watched him nod but he still looked ashamed, guilty. “We’re not in Alexandria anymore.” You reminded him, hooking your finger under his chin with the hand that wasn’t squeezing his own. Guiding him to find your gaze, you offered him a smile. “There are more people here. Things run more smoothly. You’re the best they’ve got and they know that. They appreciate it. But if you need downtime, they’ve got your back.” You lifted his hand to press a kiss to his wrist. “I’ve got your back. You just have to let to me. Okay?”

He was quiet for a moment or two, and you thought he might argue. Miraculously, he nodded.

“Yeah, okay.”

“No more hiding shit? Especially shit that could end with you on the opposite side of aliveness?”

“Sure.”

“Daryl.” You shot him a warning glance, accompanied by a small smile.

“I’ll work on it.”

You seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding. “I’ll take that. Now scoot.”

“Wha—hey!” He moved over slowly as you climbed onto the bed with him and curled up into his side. “M’sick, dumbass! You’re gonna get it too!” He tilted his head with an expression of exasperation when your shoulders shook with laughter. “I miss somethin’?”

“I started throwing up half an hour ago. Tomi went to get more fluids and junk.”

“You’re jokin’.”

“Even here, we get to be roomies!”

“Wish I’d stayed in the alley.” He teased hoarsely, wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer while you continued to giggle. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and yawned.

He’d sleep better with you there anyway.