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salaciousdoll · 1 year

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･˳ . ⋆ 1-900-PaintJob ･˳ . ⋆

In which Toji has the hots for you while he paints your walls

· · · ♡ Featuring Painter! Toji Fushiguro x Chubby!Fem!reader with guest appearances of Gojo,Geto,Nanami,Choso,and Hiromi · · ♡

୨⍣୧ ⁺⁎˚ ⋆━━ Warnings: Smut, pussy eating, sloppy pussy eating at that, spit, voyeurism( FaceTime call on projector), cowgirl riding, heavy and long dick Toji, admiring Toji( at you), body worship( heavy, praise kink, degradation kink, dirty talking, fingering, body painting with fingers during sex, do not try this with a stranger in real life( wrap up sweeties), fucking on first time meeting( I know, I know, but you’re neighbors), reader mind is fucked while you’re getting fucked, mention of brain d*** but not literally, dickmatized and pussy drunk, hints at chubby reader, black reader but not explicit, pet names( princess, baby doll, doll, baby, etc.), small age gap, if I miss something let me know

୨⍣୧ ⁺⁎˚ ⋆━━ Word count: 4.6k

18+, Minors do not interact

Ps: I’m gonna post this one last time, hopefully it ends up in the tags without the label warning. Anyways happy birthday to me!!!

Sitting on the white window seal with a large triple case- equal lit window in front of you casting a beautiful abstract of the neighbors house and apartments in your neighborhood.

You were watching your neighbor from across the street pulling out weeds from the dirt of nature. He was eye candy for sure, that’s why you always pretended to write in your diary whenever he comes out of his house. Sometimes he would be talking with his other buff/ fit friends while pulling out weeds or planting for his girlfriend. She was a ray of sunshine but a devil in disguise or so you heard. You haven’t seen her ever since you met her for the first time when you moved in. You two didn’t plan on hanging out or getting to know one another after your encounter with one another. Too busy, on her side. Your side was because you could feel the negative energy oozing off her and made no room for her in your life. Him and his other friends/ girl-friends were a different story.

One of them was someone you had your eagle eye on from the first time you saw him. Ever since you saw his white, skin tight shirt clinging to his body with a pair of black joggers and comfortable shoes; you knew you had to get him inside of your house. Luckily weeks later, when you were watering your plants you saw him come out the house a few doors down from you to walk across the street to Satoru’s house. You wanted him to laugh in your ear the way he was laughing at Suguru and Satoru’s jokes and playful bantering whilst sharing a few beers with him.

Once you were done with watering your grass and plants you turned your water off and took your empty bucket to go back in the house when you heard your name being yelled as you walked onto your porch. You turned around to see Satoru waving at you with a big smile on his plush, pink lips, “ Hi hi, {reader}, see you’re watering your plants, gotta keep them fresh for me to steal huh? Your flowers are mighty beautiful..”

You rolled your eyes and waved at him, “ Hell no, not for you so don’t even try it, anyways hello everyone, I’m going back in the house so see you gentlemen later.” Geto smiled and waved at you while Nanami smiled a little at hearing your voice. He always looked at you whenever you came out the house, he thought he was the only one who stared at you until he saw Toji Fushiguro eyeing you nonstop, even while you watered the plants.

“ That’s { reader}, she just moved here 5 weeks ago, so be nice to her alright.”, Geto says with a tight lipped smile. Choso took a sip of his beer and cleared his throat, “ How do you know when she moved in? I must say it's very Creepy considering you don’t even live over here at all.” Geto rolled his eyes and pointed to Gojo, “ because of him, dumbass. After all, he’s her neighbor, although, I’m surprised Toji hasn’t made a move even after only staying a few door dow-” Geto eyebrows furrowed and he was gonna ask where Toji left to when he got his answer when he felt his head being turned by Gojo to your house. He opened his mouth once he noticed Toji standing at your door having a conversation with you. Closing his mouth, he chuckled prior to saying, “ Nevermind then. He beat us all, huh?”

You, on the other hand, heard your doorbell ring and told the person on the other side to hold on. Once you answered you were so surprised to see your girl crush in front of you, smirking as well, “ Hello, pretty, my name is Toji Fushiguro. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Hope we get to be well acquainted with one another.” He took your hand and kissed your knuckles making your legs almost give up on you especially with the calm but sexy look in his pretty green eyes.

You didn’t even want to take your hand away as you introduced yourself back to him, ending with “ I hope we get well acquainted as well, sir.” He tsk, shaking his head sequentially, “ No, what did I say my name was?” You raised your eyebrows at the dominance oozing from his voice but answered him anyway, “ Toji, Toji Fushiguro, why? What happened? Do you have a low memory or something?” He chuckled as he still held your hand in his, mild sweat was all you felt on your hand as you looked at him with a tilted head in wonder of what he was chuckling at. “ No, no, doll. Don’t have low memory just making sure you know it so you can learn to not call me sir, makes me feel older than I already am.”

You couldn’t help but to giggle at his words because normally you would tell a man to fuck off already, he’s an exception. For now. Instead you stared at his shirt, noticing a little yellow stain that looked like paint. Automatically getting a scandalous idea inside your pretty brain, “ Say do you paint, Mister Toji?” Completely change the direction of the conversation because you don't need to be reminded that you are attracted to the older male even if you’re in your early 20s right now. The way you tilted your head to the side after you asked the question made his dick jump because he was one step closer to having you against the wall of your house. He smiled at you, “ Yes, here and there, for the cash or what not. why do you ask, little one?”

You mentally rolled your eyes at his last two words because you were in no shape or form little but you’ll proceed, “Good. How much does it cost to paint my living room in two days? Or you don't do house calls?” His eyes widened a little prior to him answering you without thinking, “ oh yeah I take house calls for a price but for you… On the house, take this as a housewarming gift from me to you. Besides honey, I’m not working on a boss time because I make my own time, therefore you’re on. In two days, I will see you soon, my favorite doll.” You smiled as he walked backwards off the porch while hanging onto your banister to help guide him down the stairs in case he doesn’t make a fool of himself in front of his doll. You.

You, however, waved at him and the others, “ Great, I’ll get the paint and other supplies, all you need to do is show up, mister Toji.” You walked back into the house with a smirk on your pretty face, you got him.

Now you were still sitting on your window seal, still looking at the now empty porch of Satoru Gojo’s house when the doorbell rang. You looked at your phone for the time and smiled— right on time. You fixed yourself up a little before answering the door with a small smile on your face, “ Welcome, Toji. Come on in.” Toji had in a tight white v neck shirt that showed some of his chest that made your mouth watery. As he walked past you he greeted you with a smirk and nod of his head. You stared at his back and ass as he walked in front of you taking in the way he wore his blue Jean painting overalls, thankfully just in his lower body, with black boots, he looked so perfect for this job and you almost believed he dressed like this on purpose.

You wore too into your head when you heard a throat being cleared startling you a little since it was silent at first, “ Don’t get too distracted, doll. I need to know how you want me to paint and where to start, don’t I?” He was teasing you and he loved the little fidgeting you were doing right now to his teasing. You gathered yourself and pointed to the side of you as you walked further into your spacious living room with only a covered couch and ladder inside of it.

He sat his extra tools down and looked at color paint you brought with his hands on his hips, the hips you so badly wanted to wrap your legs around as he dug inside of your pu-, “ Sweetheart, you’re gonna have to stop spacing out if you want time to be at least half way done, alright.” You nodded your head and put on your serious face, “ I apologize for my unprofessionalism, after all this is still business. Anyways, I really want this side to be a plain { c/y/c}, while behind the couch have the marble color thingy going on.” You pointed to the walls as you explained. When you lifted your hand, your shirt showed a little of your tummy, he so badly wanted to hold in his hands as he sucked on your pussy, and your thighs from the skort you wore gave him the adrenaline he hadn’t felt in a long time while painting for someone.

“ What ‘ marble color thingy’ you are referring to? I need a little example, doll.”, he said while crossing his arms over his chest making his muscles flex like he wanted to pop out the shirt. Is this his hoe shirt or something? You almost wanted to laugh at your mind for asking that question but thought against it because it’ll make you look crazy. You tried hard to think of an example and tapped your feet making him laugh at your frustration and stumbling over words “ um, you know, marble counters.” Or his favorite “ You know, um…” you didn’t even finish the sentence seeing as another laugh of his cut you off, “ I know what it is, princess, just messing with you.”

You rolled your eyes and began to help him by taking the top off the paint and setting your brush along with the long stick that attached to the roller brush down, “ There you go, if you need me I’ll be sitting on the window seal listening to my headphones. If you don’t mind me being in here with you of course.” He shrugged and asked you a question, “ You think you could turn on some music for me, don’t wanna listen to the sound of paint hitting the walls all day, hurt my ears, you wouldn’t want anything to happen to my ears now would ya’?” You thought about it and shook your head no before getting up to bring down your radio.

Once you finally brought down your little hello kitty radio seconds later, he smiled at the speaker prior to shaking his head and grabbing it from your hands, “ I’ll make jokes about this radio later, but right now I need you to sit your pretty ass down and enjoy yourself or you could watch me paint, doesn’t matter to me.” You almost tripped from him talking to you like that but gladly caught yourself— looking to see if he caught you and luckily he didn’t. He’s too busy pouring the paint in the paint tray.

Hours later, he seems to be getting slower and you knew he needed a break as you now witnessed him with respiration dropping down his body, shirt clinging to his skin as the product of sweating a lot. You turned on the AC and fan but he’s still sweating which means he’s working too hard. You got distracted by his back muscles moving back and forth as he painted on top of the ladder now. Your playlist was getting lost in your ear as you analyzed his build even more. He had a back tattoo from what you could see and you honestly wanted to see it. Just in luck, he turned to you catching you off guard, “ can you hear me? If so, nod your head.” You nodded your head because you could only hear him because your music was low and high.

Wiping his forehead with his arm, “ Good, do you mind if I take my shirt off, I’m still hot and can’t take it anymore.” You paused and looked at him with your lips pursed out. Your head nodded slightly disagreeing with your thoughts. You watched as he dropped the paintbrush on the tray afore taking his shirt off so slowly, basically stripping for you. You eyed his 6 or maybe 8 pack you couldn’t count because you were trailing your eyes to his man-boobs and almost clench your thighs at how big they were.

You were only snapped out of your day dream when you heard his deep groan, which only caused your eyes to widen at hearing what you heard. Maybe it was a floozy until you heard him talking, “ You keep looking at me like that there’s no telling where this paint will land when I’m fucking you against this very wall.” You turned away just to look right back at him with low eyes, “ yeah, um, I’ll go get that strawberry lemonade for you, hold on.” He chuckled because he didn’t know if it was because you thought he was thirsty or because he was thirsty for something else. Someone else really: you.

You walked to the kitchen as he climbed off the ladder. He watched you walk away and that ate at your conscious— while you were too busy thinking about how you looked from the back, he was moving the ladder to the side before laying down a big paper. He was gonna get you anyway it goes.

You grabbed the glass cups out of your white cabinet, putting ice in it followed by strawberry lemonade out of your pitcher. You grabbed lemon and cut them up just to play a slice on the side of the glasses. You weren’t even thinking straight right now because all you wanted is his dick down your throat. And you kept thinking about the ways you were gonna do it on your way back. You needed some dick right now in your life anyways, he’s the perfect man to get some from. You were gonna slut and trick him out because after this. Your new sugar daddy if you say.

You brought the cold glasses in and saw him sitting on the window seal with his legs cocked open, he looked so relaxed and you didn’t want to interrupt him but damn if you do, damn if you don’t. His shirt was still off and sweat glands were rolling down his chest and abs. His nipples were a mixture of pink and light brown and you were so in love with the way they looked that you couldn’t stop staring which made him smirk, “ Come on, pretty. You’re leaving my throat dry right now.” You snapped your eyes to his eyes and smiled a little prior to giving him his juice. When you did he smoothly pulled your wrist and made you stumble in between his legs, panicking about wasting the drinks.

You placed your lemonade down and gave him a stern look, well tried. It was just you trying to look mad and it failed because all he was thinking about was how pretty and hot you looked and that you did even through thick and thin. “ What is your problem, T?”

Toji took a big gulp of his drink afore placing it down and wrapping his arms around your hips, “ T? I like it, is that the nickname you chose to moan for me, hmm? Yeah, you make sure you moan it loud and clear, yeah?” You were so turned on right now that you made a hint that you wanted a kiss by looking at his lips, he chuckled and leaned up to kiss you on the lips. The kiss is slow and sensual. Your lips collided against each other in a heated makeout session. You didn’t even realize him reaching to dip his fingers in the paint beside him. He strategically used the fingers he’s not going to finger you with to dip inside the paint.

The paint was something that just came to mind right now, so he brought his actions to life when the paint trailed on your arm as you deepened the kiss with one arm around his shoulder. Sitting down on top of him, you felt his thick bulge right on the outline of your pussy as soon as you sat down too. Fuck he was huge and fucking thick. You couldn’t wait to fuck him and you made it known when you dipped your own fingers in paint— trailing your finger on his chest and then nipples making his body shudder from the coldness of the paint on his nipples.

You broke the heated kiss and smiled down at him with both hands on your chest. “ You’re mine after this, you know. So think real hard before you take the next step, baby doll. Wouldn’t want you to jump onto death row blindly.” You chuckled, “ I want to fuck, you’re the perfect slut of a man to fuck right now.” His eyes widened as he watched you take off your shirt revealing a pretty bra he so badly wanted to inhale. He was so obsessed with you that he’d wanna sniff any undergarment you had right now and you knew that, so you slowly teased him by taking the bra off slowly. Toji has been obsessed with you since he got the chance to see you move in, you didn’t notice him but he noticed you.

Toji’s mouth watered when your tits dropped from your bra, they were so pretty, the size of them adding on to his new fascination. Toji kissed you again, he kissed all the way down to your chest, “ These are fucking beautiful, want them wrapped around my cock but I’ll save that for later.” You whimpered at his dirty words as his hand without the paint tapped your thighs telling you to take off your pj bottoms and you did just that when you got off him.

Toji reached his hands to the hand of your panties— slipping his, free of paint, fingers inside of your panties rubbing your pussy as you hovered over him. It was a little difficult for him so he ripped your panties with his other hand leaving you completely bare for him. He finally got full access to your beautiful pussy and he almost gulped up spit just to spit it back on your pussy, claiming it for the men that’s watching on the other side of the FaceTime call he sat up while you were in the kitchen. He hid his phone well but what he didn’t know is that you knew you were being recorded and didn’t care at the moment especially when he’s literally eye level with your pussy.

He rubbed getting little whimpers from you as you gripped his shoulder in want and need, “ Please… T, I can’t anymore, fuck me, finger me, idc, I just need something inside of me.” Your voice was so pretty moaning out for him like this. You were already driving him mad and he loved it. You were wiggling around until he held onto your love handles/hips. He spit on your pussy with a loud sound of the spitting before licking all over your pussy with his spit. You gripped his hair with one hand whilst his tongue was flicking in circles around your puffy clit. You granted him access with one hand opening your pussy to his liking so he could see and lick everything.

He looked up at you with hazy, green eyes— still licking your pussy while you placed one leg beside him on the window seal, “ your fucking pussy, fuck~” he couldn’t even get his words out because he was too busy trying to devour your entire pussy in his mouth, which was literally impossible for anyone. You tasted so so delicious to him and he wasn’t about to let any of them on the phone fuck you. You were a moaning mess when you were close to your edge and you could tell he was enjoying himself because of the spit coasting your inner thighs, labia, and clit.

His spit was dripping and his face was dripping with your juices combined with his spit, “ Shit~ to-ji, I’m cumin, I can’t hold on.” And you couldn’t physically and figuratively because your legs were starting to shake. Toji didn’t care though because he was too busy shaking his head back and forth creating more motion in your clitoris, “ Aaah fuck, m’cummin, pl-please I’m cummin.” You gripped his shoulders so hard that you could practically crush them and yet he still wouldn’t care. He was gonna wear you out today before going back to painting.

You threw your head back when his groans and moans hit your pussy creating vibrations, “ Cum fwrh mew” you couldn’t exactly make out his words because his tongue was move in a wiggle motion on the inside of your pussy, so his words were impediment to understand but once he felt you clench onto his tongue— letting go onto his face. Your body shook as you came and he wasted no time catching every last drop of cum.

He sucked on your clit one last time making you stumble onto his lap, hovering a little whilst your legs were shaking like a leaf on a windy day. He looked at you licking his lips all the while taking off his shoes and overalls along with his undergarment— leaving him in black socks only, “ Sit on it.” Your eyes widened when he suddenly pulled you down not caring how much of your weight you got on him, he could handle it. Meanwhile, none of them can do it like he can. He always chased after girls your size, why? He just likes women like you. You could say he was a chubby chaser but his dick doesn’t discriminate against any bodies, petite, skinny, thick, no ass, ass, no titties, titties, he doesn’t care. He just has a record with women like you.

You took his hard dick into your hand, stroking him up and down, “ How badly do you want this Toji?” He looked at you with a smile on his face illuminating his beautiful features, “ I could show you and say it, I wanted this ever since I saw you hop out that little uhaul truck and I was sitting on my porch playing with my kids.” Your eyes widened and you smiled, “ How is little Megumi and tsukii doing?”

He chuckled before whispering a faint fuck because you were still stroking him, meanwhile you were unaware of what you were doing because of the conversation, “ kinda hard to talk about them when you stroking my dick like that?” You nervously laughed, “ oh right, I apologize that actually is wrong, I just wanna know how badly you wanted me and we got off track, now that I know, let me show you how bad I want you.” He was surprised at your words but more surprised at the feeling of his tip being swallowed by your wet pussy, “ Fu-uh-ck!!, you haven’t even taken me full, yet you have me groaning like a bitch.” You let out a faint giggle which turned into a moan as you slowly and carefully took him inside of you. As you slid down his cock, he stretched you out causing you to tightly squeeze your eyes from the pain. Your pussy was clenching him like she never wanted to let him go and that cussed him to hiss, “ Loosen up f’me, princess.”

You took a deep breath prior to slamming down on his dick when you got half of him inside. Both of you moaned very loudly as Gojo, Choso, Geto, Nanami, and now Hiromi's eyes widened when they viewed the projector his phone was connected to, luckily Gojo was a smart and strategic pervert. “ she did it, she actually took all of him inside of her.”

Meanwhile, Toji gripped your ass and curled up into you as you bounced up and down on his cock creating vibrations and movement with your body and his balls in one. “ Shit! T, please continue to fuck me like this, mmph.” He reached one hand to dip his fingers in the paint, just to put it over your chest, tummy, and getting more to trace your rolls. “ You’re so- so fucking, ahh… pretty taking my dick inside of you right now. You’re my little, Nghh~. You have me fumbling my words, sweetheart.” He gropped your tits with paint on his fingers and your ass with his other set of fingers— still fucking into you like a maniac. For an older guy, he’s got a lot of strength and stamina.

“ You’re my little masterpiece of art, fuck~ you keep clenching me I’m gonna.”, He moaned as he was now leaning back against the blinds on your window, denting them a bit, but you didn’t care. You were too brain dead out of words to even say anything. Your brain was nothing but fuzzy bubbles floating around, “ T’? It’s… it’s too much. Nnhh.” He noticed your spaced out look as you peered down at him and rubbed your clit with his thumb to get you back to him, “ Hold on a little bit longer baby, don’t space out on me yet, we’re gonna cum together.”

You nodded your head with a vicious lip bite as you moved your hips back and forth tired from bouncing up and down on his dick. Your juices were all over his cock, even dripping down his balls and inner thighs. That’s how much you enjoyed his dick inside of you. You never felt like this. You lost focus on the world and it’s just him now and you beat believe his ass feels the same because he forgot about them watching because all he was thinking about was you.

Your body started to shake as he began rolling his hips, “ Toji! I feel it, m’gonna squirt. Uhhh!” You squirted all over yourself and his pelvis. He stopped a bit to let you squirt before getting the idea to move inside of you again causing you to squirt more on his pelvis and lower stomach. You weren’t doing anything but shouting out little pleas and repeating over and over again how you have to cum.

Toji lifted you up with your legs on his arms, fucking into you like a pirate who haven’t had pussy or found any gold yet, “ Fuck, fuck, that’s it baby. Cum for me, cum all over your dick baby.” His words and the snapping of his dick moving in and out of you had you cummin’ in no time. You were about to scream loud but he placed a kiss in your lips silencing yours and his scream with a muffle to replace it. Your bodies was shaking against each other as sweat engulfed both of your bodies like you two were in a steam room.

This was the sex you missed and needed, but nobody did it like him. Toji was still rolling his hips while slowly walking back to the window seal that was a bench if you ask yourself. His butt hit the cold surface causing him to hiss especially when your pussy walls were shaping around his dick, “ Your pussy is shaping and getting used to my cock now, doll. Hope you’re ready because we’re taking this upstairs, they’ll have to hear from a distance.” He huffed and smirked down at you, kissing your forehead, chubby cheeks, and lips fore’ taking you upstairs bridle style, still having some strength in him even after cumming inside of your sweet pussy. You were gonna have to take the pill later, he wouldn’t mind giving you a baby because it was already set that he’s gonna make you his and his woman only.

From that point on, you got fucked any and everywhere in your bedroom. Your holes were being filled to the brim by him and you loved every second of it.

Tagging: @shunsuist @simpingfor-wakasa @happygoluckyalexis @mastermindenoshimaalicia @thehanging-gardens @bontens-angel and anymore who wants to be tagged

2K notes · View notes

juneberrie · 4 months

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DATING APPLEJACK !

request || equestria girls!apple jack x fem!reader

author's note: everyone say thank you to mars for encouraging my delusions & to the person who requested this. also ive been picturing her the way @/cloiiiiii on tiktok draws her so like yeah

ⓘ word count : 0.8k || applejack masterlist

probably didn't realize she liked you until someone (rarity) told her

"what? no way, i don't like-" and then the "HOLY SHIT I DO LIKE HER!"

she was the last to know

rainbow and rarity have to give her advice on asking you out (rarity's is serious and helpful, dash's is just "ask her out dumbass")

probably asked you out with flowers.

"so uh– i was wondering' if you'd, uh, y'know, wanna go out with me sometime? it's fine if not– y'know what, nevermind its stupi–"

she's so nervous!!!

anyways onto the actual dating hcs

she was the one to say i love you first

you guys were probably taking a walk or something and you were talking and she'll like smile at you really lovingly and go "i love you, y'know"

calls you really cheesy nicknames — sugar, sugar cube, pretty girl, my girl, princess, angel, darlin', missy, sweetheart, sweet pea, honey, etc etc

would take you on the cutest dates!!!

sunsets, picnics, apple picking (duh), late night drives

if u like shopping then she's def the kind of girl who'll hold all your bags

she'll also walk you to all your classes / walk you home

also!!! kind of gf who won't leave u alone in public. like if you guys go out she WILL stay with you at all times cause yk 😕

she's such a sweetheart

will open doors for you and get offended if you try to do ANYTHING yourself

SHE WAS RAISED RIGHT 🗣

can and will give you her clothes to wear. PLEAAASE wear her flannels/shirts around her she will lose her mind

"well, darlin', don't you look nice?" whenever u get dressed up

she either gets flustered really easily or she doesnt

pls imagine her in like. a white tank and jeans and cowboy boots

1 million dead 4923 injured

her voice in the morning >>>>>

it has a little rasp and her accent is like ten times thicker and just ugh

she's jacked btw. apple jacked.

she grew up up a farm like what'd u expect

anyways imagine needing to get smth off a shelf or something and she just comes up behind you and reaches to grab the thing and her arms ohmygod

love languages are definitely acts of service & quality time

CONSTANTLY doing little things for you

holding open the door, getting you flowers every week, randomly cleaning your room when she's at your house, filling up ur drink, ordering for you, etc

such a "my girl" kind of gf

"attagirl" "my girl" "pretty girl" "sweet girl"

randomly gives u compliments

also!! i don't see her as the kind of gf who comments under ur insta posts but she's def the kind who'll post them on her story

she's not a very social media person in general, but any post she does make is probably of you

would def write you a sappy letter on your anniversary/valentines/christmas/new years/your birthday

basically any chance she gets she'll write u a long, sappy letter telling you how much she appreciates you and loves you and yap yap yap

i don't see her as a person who wears much jewelry, but i can definitely see her having a locket with your picture in it, or some kind of matching bracelet

randomly starts yapping about you to the girls

"she's so sweet and i love her an–" "SHUT UP WE GET IT." "dang okay"

they're your biggest fans!!!

pinkie probably made a fan account on insta thats just her posting cute pictures of you guys

rarity helps applejack plan dates and shit

dash playfully flirts with you any chance she gets because she finds it hilarious when aj glares at her

speaking of that, i can't see her being someone who gets jealous super super easily?

like, i can definitely see her sidling up beside you, putting an arm around your waist, and glaring at the person who's flirting with you

"who's this, darlin'?"

she has an rbf so if you're really sunshine-y you guys look ridiculous tg

scary guard dog gf!!!!

such an early riser but if you ask her to stay in bed with you she'll be so dramatic about it (she'll sigh and be like "alright, alright, but just this once" <- its happened multiple times)

apple bloom adores you!!! she'll randomly barge into aj's room to talk to you (aj thinks its cute how much she likes you but she does NOT appreciate her sister's interruption)

100% your biggest supporter

if you do theatre or choir or orchestra, she'll show up to EVERY. SINGLE. PERFORMANCE. you will ever have

if you do sports, trust she'll be at all your games yelling her head off and holding a big ass sign

she's really good at cooking so she'll learn how to make your favorite dishes!!! this also means you guys have cute little dinners at home a lot <3

#mlp x reader #my little pony x reader #equestria girls x reader #mlp eg #applejack x reader #apple jack x reader #mlp applejack #liz’s writing ♡

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loaksky · 1 year

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— 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮

the deets — lo'ak is the black sheep in the family, clinging to honor by a precarious thread. you are the well-loved songstress in the tribe. he should resent you for being everything he's not, but his fickle heart can't bring him to do so.

the who — lo'ak x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 10.2k (rip yall)

the tags — (one-sided) rivals-to-lovers, angsty angsty, hurt / comfort, reader gives lo'ak a big ol smooch (perhaps more than one), lo’ak is the biggest dumbass and because of this he’s mean asf, reader has a big ol heart and just really wants lo’ak to like her, aged!up characters for maturity’s sake.

the warnings — language, lo'ak is in luv but doesn't realize it, he's in denial that the feelings could be reciprocated, this is super dramatic so put your seat belts on!

the notes — was feeling extra sad and wanted to write something self-indulgent. this lovely anon requested something, and i used their ask as inspiration to finish this beast. fine line, bags, and love in dark are the three main songs i listened to finish this, so if you wanna be in your feels, have a listen LMAO. despite all the support, i’m still so mf nervous posting this ejsjsjdjs

masterlist

SOMETHING UGLY KINDLES IN THE PIT of Lo'ak's stomach at the mere mention of your name. It's sour on his tongue, bitter in his brain. He doesn't know when he's started to feel like this, started to feel absolutely dreadful anytime he'd hear the timbre of your voice.

It's warm, thick like nectar and it makes him sick.

Ever since you all were little, the elders crooned over what a great girl you were growing into; strong, intelligent, beautiful. It made him boil how much they'd sing your praises, the high esteem everyone held you in as one of the clan's most talented.

Something dull would pick at him being compared to his older brother, but nothing burned more than being compared to you.

Maybe it's because it's always implied whenever your names share the same sentences, that lingering implication that he could be more like you. The clan fans the flames of your mere existence while Lo'ak is snuffed out like a dying fire.

He hates it. He hates you.

He thinks.

It'd be easier to, if you were awful behind the scenes. Arrogant, stuck up, but you're none of those things. You're kind, gentle, mighty when you need to be. It doesn't help that you shine like the brightest star, engulfing everyone in your light, in your warmth.

But Lo'ak resists. He sees right through you, sees right through every saccharine smile you send him. He can see it in your eyes, how you really see him. Despite standing a full head taller than you, he sees the way you look down your nose at him.

It grates his nerves, how disgustingly sweet you are towards him despite all attempts to rebuff you.

Certainly doesn’t soothe his ego when you always seem to be around the bend every time he gets bitched at by the clan, eyes soft and filled with pity. To add insult to injury, you frequently tail him like a shadow after these moments when all he wants is to be alone.

Like now, you linger.

It's after dinner and Kiri and Spider stand before him. They come together like the three points of a triangle and you stand an awkward distance away from them.

Kiri notices you first, her face splitting into a big smile as she waves you over.

Lo'ak breathes a deep sigh before locking eyes with Spider who tries his best to suppress an amused grin.

“Hi,” you chirp and Lo'ak can't help but roll his eyes.

Spider and Kiri greet you eagerly. Lo'ak simply nods his head in acknowledgement before tightening his fist around his dagger.

“We going or what?” he finally says.

You perk up.

“Where are you guys heading off to?” you ask curiously, hands clasped behind your back.

Spider opens his mouth to answer, but Lo'ak cuts him off quickly.

“No where important,” he says, unsure if you'll blab about their whereabouts to the elders, or worse, his parents.

You roll your lips and shift on your feet.

“Can I come?” you ask hesitantly, eyes hopeful.

Kiri's smile grows as she links her arm with yours.

“No,” he says sharply. “Absolutely not.”

Your face falls and something pulls inside his chest when you fail meet his gaze, your frown barely perceptible.

You make a move to pull from Kiri's grasp, but her arm tightens through yours. She levels Lo'ak with a weighty glare and you fidget uncomfortably under his narrowed eyes.

“Don't worry about it,” you say, like someone's hit a reset button. You smile that pretty smile and Lo'ak wants to scream. "It's okay, I think Rutan needs help with clean up."

You slip from Kiri's grasp and the three watch you walk off.

“Do you always have to be such a bitch?” Spider scoffs a disbelieving laugh.

“She's just gonna tag along so she can snitch,” Lo'ak grumbles.

“Oh c'mon,” Kiri argues. “________ just wants friends.”

Lo'ak sneers.

“I don't want to be friends with her,” he says firmly, knuckles white around the handle of his knife.

“Weirdo,” Spider mumbles. “She’s cute. Think she likes you.”

Lo'ak's spine stiffens.

“It's an act” Lo'ak grumbles. “She just wants to look good in front of the elders to keep up whatever nice girl show she's putting on.”

Kiri rolls her eyes hard.

There are moments when Lo'ak thinks he's being harsh, but he can't help himself. It's like he loses all semblance of a filter when it comes to you.

“Hi, Lo'ak,” you greet him sweetly, lowering yourself onto the fallen log he's perched on, fashioning arrows to practice with later on in the evening with Neteyam.

He shifts away from you, putting the distance of two bodies between the two of you as he pauses his task at hand.

“Hi,” he says flatly.

“Can I help?” you ask tentatively, fingers twitching towards one of the untouched sticks in a pile next to his feet.

His kicks them closer to himself, out of your reach before leveling you with a sharp glare.

“No thanks,” he says quickly and you recoil slowly, letting out a shaky laugh before fixing that stupid smile on your pretty face.

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize, straightening in your seat.

A silence so uncomfortably palpable settles over the two of you as you shift so that your knees are turned towards him.

His throat bobs when his gaze travels from your little toes all the way up to your inquisitive gaze, golden and searching. It makes something unruly settle in his gut and he turns his attention back to carving his arrows.

“Do you need something?” he breaks the silence finally. “I'm kinda busy.”

You bite your lip before scooting a little closer to Lo'ak's hunched figure.

“My birthday's coming up,” you start.

“I'm aware,” Lo'ak almost scoffs.

It's all the clan has been able to talk about for the past few days. How they'd be able to prepare for the golden girl's next birth cycle and what they'd be able to do to make you smile the brightest.

“Your birthday is a week before,” you state and his head whips towards you.

“How do you know that?” he asks sharply, accusation heavy in his gruff tone.

You flinch and he falters for a moment before your smile simply widens.

“We grew up together, Lo'ak,” you say and the way his name sounds from your mouth sounds absolutely heavenly. “You're my friend.”

Friend.

He scowls at the term.

“We're not friends,” he bites back.

If the statement bothers you, you don't show it, simply tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before putting on a brave face.

“I want to celebrate with you,” you say shyly.

“Hard pass,” he says too quickly, gathering his sticks and fashioned arrows under his grasp.

He leaves you in the clearing on your own.

You must be fucking with him. You have to be. It'd be the only explanation for why Jake pulls him aside a few nights later and tells him that you've requested to work with him and Neteyam during archery practice.

“No,” he says stiffly, shaking his head.

His dad levels him with a hard glare and Lo'ak sighs deeply.

“She's a nuisance, Dad,” he argues. “Me and Neteyam are making good progress with our training and we'll have to start at square one if she joins.”

“Lo'ak, this isn't an ask,” Jake says sternly.

“But, Dad!”

“Lo'ak.”

Lo'ak huffs, snatching his bow and quiver angrily before storming off.

“You're doing great,” Neteyam says to you once the three of you have convened in the training circle.

The three arrows you've shot have all landed within centimeters of the mark and to say that Neteyam is impressed is an understatement. Lo'ak, on the other hand, fumes not-so-silently as he tears his arrows from his target.

Yet again, you have another person wrapped around your finger and it makes his blood simmer as he assumes his position at the marker and loads his arrow. It splinters through the air and hits the target right on the bullseye. The arrow punctures through the hide and lodges its way into the wood from the sheer force of Lo’ak’s shot.

You start at him moon-eyed, lush lips breaking into a full smile.

“Perfect shot,” you observe. “That was awesome.”

Lo’ak scans your features hesitantly before his gaze flits to his older brother, waiting for any acknowledgment that he’d done a great job, but Neteyam is taking notes on the arrows still stuck in the fabric of your own target.

His heart sinks.

“Fuck this,” Lo’ak grumbles, bundling all of his belongings.

He stalks through the clearing, past his brother, to leave you two.

He doesn’t know what fuels the fire more, the fact that Neteyam didn’t even bat an eye at the feat they’d been practicing for for the past three weeks because he was too immersed in you, or the fact that you bore witness to his first clean shot and gave him that sickeningly sweet smile that made his stomach turn.

“Where are you going?” Neteyam sighs.

“Somewhere you two aren’t,” he grumbles under his breath, ducking through the brush of the lofty forest.

You lick your lips, locking eyes with Neteyam as you give him a bashful grin and slowly break away to follow Lo’ak’s path.

He isn’t far ahead as you push through the vines and low-hanging leaves, the path lined with large plants and the spindly roots of the looming trees. The grass is plush between your toes as you scamper to follow Lo’ak from a distance, watching as his lithe body climbs through the dense flora.

“Why are you following me?” he calls after a few dozen paces, stopping in the middle of the path to whirl on his heel.

His golden eyes are syrupy, warm despite the edge, and you can’t help but flash him your pearly whites in a genuine smile that takes up your dimpled cheeks.

“Why’d you run off?” you ask him. “You were doing so well!”

His chest rises and falls with a scoff.

“You can give it a rest, you know?” Lo’ak says flatly, fist so tight around his bow he feels like he’ll crush the wood.

Your expression morphs, eyebrows furrowing in a way that makes Lo’ak throat bob, something pinching behind his ribcage.

“What?” you ask, frown marring your pretty face.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you can stop acting like you wanna be friends with me,” Lo’ak says matter-of-factly.

“You are my friend,” you protest quietly.

Lo’ak rolls his eyes.

“Dude, whatever,” he mutters, turning his back on you.

“Is it so wrong?” you murmur and he stops in his tracks, refusing to meet your gaze. “To be friends?”

Friends.

That stupid fucking word again.

Lo’ak bites his tongue and stalks off, leaving you on the path.

Neteyam rips him a new one when he sees him at dinner later that night. Lo’ak hangs his head as Neteyam digs in.

“Is it so hard to be nice?” Neteyam asks, hand squeezing his shoulder as they stand a handful of meters away from the main circle.

As his eyes wander, he notices you sitting with his sister, head thrown back in laughter that glitters and wafts with the rising smoke of the fire. He swallows turning his attention back to his older brother.

“Just don’t like her,” he admits. “I want her to leave me alone.”

“You don’t like her or you like her too much?” Neteyam asks, brow bone raised.

Lo’ak’s face scrunches.

“Ew, no,” he blurts. “Why would I—”

“________ just wants to fit in,” he sighs. “She has trouble making friends.”

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Lo’ak mocks. “I don’t know why Kiri and Spider are always up her ass, she’s—”

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam warns.

“Dude, everyone is always ________ this, _________ that! I don’t understand what’s so great about her—”

A throat clears and the brothers both turn their attention to the newcomer. Lo’ak could groan in frustration seeing that you’ve abandoned your seat and now stand nearby with two wooden plates.

“They’re going to start cleaning up soon,” you say hesitantly. “Wanted to bring you some.”

Neteyam takes it graciously from you, nodding his head in thanks while Lo’ak stares down at the plate you’d arranged for him, abundant in vegetables and thick cuts of meat.

“No thanks,” he says flatly.

You try to coax him.

“C’mon Lo’ak, you say gently. “I know you haven’t eaten yet.”

“No thanks,” he repeats stonily, holding his hand up.

You offer up the plate again.

“Lo’ak–“

“I said no thank you,” he grunts, annoyed.

He’d only meant to push it back towards you, but one second it’s in your hands, the next you’re wearing dinner, the plate clattering onto the ground.

“Lo’ak!” Neteyam scolds.

“Shit, I didn’t–”

“It’s fine,” you breathe an airy laugh and Lo’ak freezes when he hears your breath hitch. “It was an accident.”

“Oh, ________…” Neteyam sighs, but you’re picking up the plate and scurrying off, ignoring the nearby snickering.

“Whatever you got going on, you need to cool it,” Jake scolds him in the family tent after dinner that night. “________ is a good girl, she’s trying to find her place. Can’t really do that if you’re gonna be a jerk to her all the time.”

Lo’ak resists the urge to roll his eyes because, yet again, someone is sticking up for you, admonishing him about how he could be nicer, how he could take you under his wing, how he–

“What about me?” Lo’ak argues. “I tell her to leave me alone all the time, but she doesn’t listen. Why do I have to be nice to someone who doesn’t respect–”

“Cut the bullshit,” Jake thunders. “You haven’t even tried being her friend.”

“Why should I?” Lo’ak counters.

“Because maybe you two are more alike than you’d care to learn,” Jake says knowingly. “Now go apologize.”

“Dad!”

“Go, Lo’ak.”

Lo’ak sucks in a deep breath before squeezing his eyes shut and blowing out through his nose.

“Fine, fine, whatever,” he grumbles, ducking from the tent into the humid night air.

He starts into the jungle, fingers brushing over the leaves and petals of the plants and flowers. He takes the moment to regulate his pounding heart in his chest before trying to wrack his brain for any words that he could scrounge into a believable apology.

When he crosses the glowing waters of a skinny brook, something rustles nearby and his hand is on the hilt of his dagger in the blink of an eye.

He turns to face the noise, knife drawn, but then you emerge and his body relaxes a fraction.

“Fuck, ________, you scared me,” he sighs in relief.

You fidget and swallow down the lump in your throat.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly.

A brief silence dawns the two of you and Lo’ak notes that you’ve cleaned up from the evening meal’s debacle, now wearing a longer loincloth threaded with round pearlescent beads that refract the luminescence of the surrounding forest.

Your grasp tightens around a leather bound journal and for a moment, he wonders what you could be writing about.

When you follow his gaze, you shyly tuck the journal behind your back and give him an uneasy smile.

“I wanted to–”

“I came to–”

Your words clash and you breathe a little laugh through your nose as you gaze at him with brilliant eyes. You start closing the distance and Lo’ak’s hands grow clammy.

“You first,” you offer.

Whatever threads of an apology he’d crafted in the moments prior have evaporated now that you stand before him, absolutely glowing.

“Lo’ak?” Your head tilts and his cheeks warm.

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely. “For what happened at dinner.”

You shake your head quickly.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you assure him, reaching out to touch him.

He recoils, clearing his throat as he retreats to put an ample amount of distance between the two of you.

You eye the berth and something shutters across your face as you rock back on your heels and flash him another uneasy smile.

You haven’t even tried being her friend, his dad’s words echo like a call in the night. Maybe you two are more alike that you care to learn.

Were you? You and Lo’ak were as different as they come, you molded by the love and adoration of the clan, him built up by the lessons and lectures he received from his parents and Neteyam.

“Where are you going?” you ask, blowing by the previous conversation.

He shrugs.

“Dunno,” he admits. “I was looking for you.”

The way you freeze is almost covert, your lips rolling as you try to hide the smile threatening to split your face.

“Oh,” you hum. “Wanna go for a walk?”

No, he wants to say. He absolutely does not want to spend anymore time with you than he has to. Likes to believe that he wouldn’t even bat an eye if he were to never see you again, but you’re looking at him expectantly and his dad’s words are like a mantra in his head, so he agrees begrudgingly.

It’s awkward at first, silent except for the natural soundtrack of the vicarious jungle. But like you do so well, you break the silence and Lo’ak has to resist rolling his eyes for the third time that night.

“What are your favorite colors?” you ask suddenly.

“I dunno, green?” he offers.

“Are you sure?” you laugh quietly.

Lo’ak thinks a moment before nodding his head.

“Yeah, green,” he finalizes. “And blue.”

He barely notices that you’d fallen behind, and when he turns to look over his shoulder, he sees that you’re scratching something into your little journal.

“And your favorite fruit?” you press, nose still between the pages.

Lo’ak breathes out a laugh and your head shoots up.

“What? You gonna send this list to the lab?” Lo’ak asks.

You give him a shy smile, shifting on your feet.

“No,” you say softly, then whisper to yourself, “just compiling a list to win your heart.”

Lo’ak barely hears you, ears twitching as his eyes narrow in confusion.

“What?” he asks.

You snap your notebook shut, shaking your head quickly as you pad through the grass to catch up to him.

“Nothing.”

Something ripples in the fabric after that night, you and Neteyam both notice when Lo’ak enters the training clearing the next afternoon and greets you with a nod instead of flat out ignoring your presence like he had the last training session.

And you think that the moment is fleeting, a one off, but as the days progress, you realize that maybe Lo’ak is finally softening around you.

He stays for entire lessons, the most minute of smiles twitching at his lips whenever you compliment his shots. He waits near the edge for you as you pack up your things, and while the walk back to the village is a quiet one, you bask in his company, triumphant when he doesn’t run off.

And while your evening walks are few and far between, you savor the moments he affords you, wedging yourself between him the crumbling walls of his facade.

Tonight is one of those moments, sitting on adjacent branches overlooking the lively forest, when Lo’ak lets you peek farther into his life than he’d originally intended.

“He never understands,” he sighs, popping a few berries from his satchel past his lips.

Tonight’s topic is his father and you listen intently, eyes fixed on the way he reclines on the branch and looks up at the stars.

“I try hard, you know? To make everyone proud, but all they see is my failure,” he says, obviously annoyed. “No matter what I do, it’s not good enough.”

“You do great things, Lo’ak,” you say quietly, the first words you’ve said all night.

And like your voice is a reminder, Lo’ak’s spine goes rigid, throat bobbing as he realizes that he may have said too much to you. He’s getting too comfortable and you’re all the willing to absorb every insecurity and every worry he has.

But something about quiet moments like these makes him loose-lipped, eyes fluttering to where you’ve got your notebook balanced in the seam of your thighs, scrawling something on the pages as you eat your own berries.

The words are leaving him before he can stop them.

“Easy for you to say,” he murmurs. “You’re perfect.”

The laugh that escapes you startles him and a few of the berries he was about to devour slips from his fingers and plunk down the leaves.

“I’m not perfect,” you assure him.

“Only someone who’s perfect would say that,” Lo’ak grumbles, peering over the edge of the branches to spot his fallen fruit. “The whole village loves you, everyone’s always so ready to bat for you.”

You look down at the pages of your journal with a sad smile.

“It’s a lot of pressure,” you admit quietly. “Everyone’s watching your every move, waiting for you to mess up.”

Lo’ak shifts uncomfortably.

You continue.

“And most of the villagers our age don’t like me,” you say, thumbing one of the pages. “They say I kiss ass, that I’m always trying to keep a leg up.”

Lo’ak winces, knowing that he’s the source of at least one of those sentiments.

“The elders think you’re honorable,” Lo’ak argues gently. “You’re talented, you have something to offer the people.”

“Honor means nothing if you’re bound by it,” you say finally, closing the cover to your journal. “If anything, I want to be more like you.”

“Like me?” Lo’ak asks incredulously, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

You nod, smiling at him.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I think you’re brave, fearless. And even if you care what people think, you do what you want.”

Lo’ak is quiet, taken aback by your confession.

Before he can respond, you’re gathering your things, bidding him a warm farewell as you begin climbing down the tree to disappear into the night.

After that night, you think that maybe you’re just imagining things, that you’re reading too much into the fact that Lo’ak has begun to finally act like you exist, but then Kiri says something and the hope sends your heart soaring.

“Seems like he finally got his head out of his ass,” she says a few mornings later as you two stand near a shallow stream, eyes peeled for any fish you two could bring back to the village.

“Think so?” you ask nervously, arrow trapping the flailing fish to the pebbles of the stream’s bed.

Kiri shrugs.

“He actually pays you mind now,” Kiri observes. “That’s a step up for sure. I think you just need to spend more time with him.”

You smile, splashing through shallow waters to capture the fish and add it to the growing pile in the basket between you and the middle Sully.

“Yeah?” you wonder

So you test the theory, basket filled with various peeled fruits and a little container of nectar you squeezed from the petals of a flower.

It doesn’t take long to hunt him down. When you enter the training circle, he’s packing up his things, quiver strapped to his back and bow in his fist.

Before you make yourself known, he’s turning on his heel to face you, eyes wild as he swallows down the lump in his throat.

He’d be the last to admit that the last night you two spent together was branded in his brain, that his mouth had dried up so much so he felt his tongue could crack.

There were so many implications in your words and it horrified him, scared him so much that he knew he couldn’t let you that close again.

But now you stand before him, pretty as can be, hopeful even, and he’s at a war with himself, absolutely caught between resenting you for being everything he’s not and giving into the draw.

“Hi,” you greet, basket heavy in your hands.

You look more radiant than usual, skirt brushing the forest floor, the woven vine of your top banded to expose your midriff.

“Hey,” he replies hesitantly.

“Where you going?” you ask curiously.

His throat bobs as he gestures behind him.

“Hunting,” is all he says.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” you ask eagerly.

He doesn’t. He shouldn’t. Because things are shifting and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stomach the change. If he’ll be able to admit to himself that you’re wearing him thin, that you make him feel things he’s never felt before and that it makes him feel like he has no control.

Because when it boils down to it, you make him lose control, make him lose his filter, and make him feel every emotion twice as hard.

“No,” he says.

And in that moment, you feel like you’re back at square one, watching as his eyes turn stony and his jaw sets firmly.

“You shouldn’t go hunting on your own,” you say softly. “Will someone be with you?”

“It’s fine,” he argues. “I’m fine.”

“I can go with you!” you offer. “I thought maybe we could sit by the stream and talk, but we can go hunting instead. We can–”

“No,” he says again, pinning you with eyes so lethal, it makes you wonder if you really had imagined the moments you shared with him, if you had imagined Kiri telling you that she saw it too.

You try again anyways.

“It’ll be good practice and–”

“I said no, ________,” he barks. “You’re dead weight and I want to be alone.”

Your lips seal and you bite the inside of your cheek.

Lo’ak could nearly scream in frustration when he notices the way your shoulders sag and it makes something in his heart cinch.

“Okay,” you agree, nodding quickly. “Be safe and–”

The words die on your tongue when you notice the look of annoyance on Lo’ak’s face.

Lo’ak is in deep shit, you come to find out hours later.

You sit outside of the training circle, knowing that Lo’ak will return down the path after his hunting trip. What you don’t expect, however, is Jake and Neytiri emerging with the entire line of Sully kids and Spider.

Jake grips the back of Lo’ak’s neck tightly as they march past wandering eyes, straight to the family tent. You don’t miss his wounds though, varying in depth, some bleeding, some sore.

You’re hot on their heels, standing right outside of the entrance as Jake tears into the middle Sully.

“Time and time again, I have to get on your ass for doing the complete opposite of what I ask you to do!” Jake’s voice is thunderous inside the tent. “Do you not realize that you not only risked your life but your sisters’ too?”

There’s a beat of silence before Jake continues, obviously pacing from the way his volume fluctuates.

“And what were you thinking bringing Tuk? She’s nine, Lo’ak!” he shouts, the anger and the hurt evident in his tone.

“I’m sorry,” Lo’ak mumbles.

“Yeah, I bet you are!” Jake scolds. “I don’t ask for much. All I want is for you stay in line. Just stay out of trouble and work hard on your training. I paired you with ________ and Neteyam in hopes that maybe you’ll tighten up and be more like them, but you’re always disappointing me.”

You frown.

Whatever Lo’ak had done probably didn’t warrant such deep admonishment and something tugs especially hard at your heartstrings knowing that all he wants to do is make his dad proud.

“You’re surrounded by good influences, but you always have to go against the grain, Lo’ak,” Jake says, the edge in his tone softening. “I’m getting tired of the bullshit, son. You need to clean up your act. Hear me?”

“Yes sir,” Lo’ak says quietly, voice almost a whisper behind the hide of the tent.

“Now go get yourself cleaned up,” Jake huffs.

Your spine is straightening when you hear foot steps closing in, holding your breath as the flap to the tent billows open and Lo’ak is emerging.

His eyes flit to yours and his expression sours further.

“Lo’ak,” you murmur, reaching out to him.

He’s shrugging you away, wincing when a wound on his shoulder stretches especially taut.

“You’re hurt,” you say quietly. “I’ll–”

“Leave me alone,” he says, eerily level.

“But you’re–”

“I said leave me alone, ________,” he warns, pushing past you in what should be the pursuit of his grandmother’s quarters.

Instead he’s making a beeline for the jungle.

You’d seen the look in his eye before he stonewalled you, seen the hurt and heaviness that most people didn’t seem to notice because he was always so adventurous and carefree.

You follow after him.

“Lo’ak, you know he’s only worried for you,” you try to reason gently, fingers reaching for his own as you duck under massive leaves and fluttering insects.

He whirls to face you, swatting your hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he bites. “You don’t know anything.”

You swallow, holding your hand to your chest as you watch him lay down every brick to wall himself off.

He hates it. He hates how you look at him, how you seem to pity the life he has to live. It makes him sick, thinking that you two have it the same. He’d rather be hated for being great than hated for being a let down. It’s insulting, how you think you know how it feels.

“Let’s go back. I’ll wrap your wounds and–”

“Of course, clan’s golden girl is gonna patch me up and make it all better, huh?” he seethes facetiously. “Just fuck off!”

You flinch, blinking at the boy you holds so much rage in front of you.

“I know you’re hurting, but you don’t have to be mean,” you whisper, taking in a shuddering breath to will yourself not to cry.

“Mean? Mean?” Lo’ak bristles. “I’ve tried telling you to lay off nicely, tried telling you to just leave me alone, but you don’t listen. You just pry and overstep and you make every little thing about you! Oh, it’s so much pressure, villagers our age hate me, of course they would! You already have everything and just have to go rub salt in the wound!”

You shrink, eyes welling as your lip trembles.

“Lo’ak, stop,” you whimper.

“We’re not friends, ________.We never were and we never will because I don’t like you,” he spits. “Now please, for the love of god, will you just leave me alone!”

The forest is silent save for Lo’ak’s ragged breathing, fists clenched as he glares down at you.

“I-” Your breath hitches and you choke out an apology. “I’m sorry.”

Lo’ak’s heart softens a fraction as you take a step back, turning quickly on your heel.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you rasp, tripping over your own feet as you stumble into a run, putting as much space as you can between you and the middle child who stands in the middle of the forest, unable to wrangle every harsh word he’d said to force back down his throat.

You dropped your journal.

Lo’ak is sure you’re looking for it, know that you’ve always got your nose stuck in it. You had dropped it running off and now he has its leather bound in his hands.

It’s been a couple of nights since the faithful evening he’d blown his top and he’d only seen whispers of you. It was so unlike you to disappear, to not be entertaining the masses as they fell to your feet.

He’d cooled off significantly, and when he replayed the conversation in his head, he winced, body folding in on itself as he realizes how harsh he’d been.

“Are you actually thinking thoughts?” Spider claps him on the shoulder, startling him so badly he drops the journal.

It lands spine down, the pages fluttering open.

He chances a peek before Spider is rounding his lithe figure to pick up the notebook. All he makes out is a rough sketch.

“You write?” Spider asks, intrigued.

“No, it’s ________’s,” Lo’ak answers.

“Oh, your little girlfriend’s?”

Lo’ak gives the human a cross look, snatching the book from his grasp as he stands up.

“Trouble in paradise?” Spider pries, scurrying to keep up with Lo’ak’s long strides.

A beat of silence before Lo’ak finally answers.

“Made her cry,” he mumbles, embarrassed.

Spider winces behind him.

“You serious?”

Lo’ak sighs.

“Yes, dude, fuck,” he breathes, hand coming to the back of his neck. “I don’t know what came over me. Dad was ripping me a new one and Neteyam already chewed me out before they got there and she was being annoying, so I just…”

“Bro,” Spider scoffs in disbelief, scratching the back of his head. “You’re a real dickhead sometimes.”

Lo’ak’s eyes wander as he shifts uncomfortably, feeling incredibly small as his friend glares up at him.

“I mean, I told her I wanted to be left alone!” Lo’ak tries to defend weakly. “I- I didn’t mean to.”

“She likes you a lot, dude,” Spider reiterates. “She just wants you to like her back.”

Despite the glaring signs, Lo’ak has trouble believing that your feelings for him far surpass charity work. They couldn’t, it was impossible. Because at the end of the day, you’re you and he’s…him.

He opens his mouth to say something, but Spider beats him to it.

“Did you at least apologize?”

Lo’ak squirms.

“Dude!”

“Look, I know, I know,” he tries to assuage the situation.

“________ is literally the sweetest girl in the entire clan you just–“

“I get it, bro, I get it!” Lo’ak huffs.

“Get your head out of your ass,” Spider says. “She might not stick around long enough for you to realize.”

“Realize what?” Lo’ak snaps.

“Are you really gonna play stupid right now?”

He blinks at the human.

“You like ________,” Spider says matter-of-factly. “You always have, ever since we were kids.”

“Oh, piss off,” Lo’ak grumbles.

“Dude, you’re literally my best friend, but I sometimes I wanna shove my foot so far up your–”

“I do not like ________,” Lo’ak says sharply.

“Everyone sees it but you, dipshit,” Spider scoffs. “You like her, but you’re scared. She’s perfect and she intimidates you. Think she’s gonna see you for what you really are and turn her back on you like everyone else does when you fuck up, but she’s not like that, Lo’ak. She’s been there whether you like it or not. But she might not always.”

Lo’ak swallows down the knot in his throat, fingers tightening around the notebook.

“Everything clicking?” Spider asks knowingly.

Lo’ak throws him a final narrowed glare before stalking off.

It’s Lo’ak’s birthday and just like every orbit, he spends it alone in the forest.

At first, he’d been burdened with the weight of hurting your feelings, but now his conversation with Spider weighs heavy on him as he climbs dirt walkways and flowered paths.

It doesn’t help that your notebook weighs heavy in his satchel, a silent reminder that he still has a piece of you while you cling to his peace of mind.

I think you’re brave, fearless. They’re the words you uttered to him that fateful night you turned the reality of you two on its axis.

As he splices all the moments you two shared like a reel, he realizes that it’s endless. That you’re always there, you’d always been there, like a layer of impenetrable atmosphere surrounding him.

He really should apologize, he knows this much, but you’ve disappeared like a wisp of smoke. Training sessions have returned to a sibling affair and he’s too prideful to ask about you.

It’s almost eclipse when he begins making his way back for the evening meal, knowing that a scolding will await if he arrives even a minute late.

After what had happened with you, he was lying low, trying to diminish his blip from the radar.

As he closes in on the village’s main circle, he notes that it’s quiet. A little too quiet. It puts him on edge, makes him draw his bow and feel around for an arrow in his quiver.

A few more paces and he’s broken into the clearing, a few stragglers milling about. Another half a dozen steps and it’s like the forest melts into a celebration, whorls of blue pouring into the circle as villagers begin trilling.

Lo’ak is hoisted into the air as the dying fire in the center of the camp begins to slowly roar.

“Happy birthday, baby bro!” Neteyam caws loudly as they begin jostling him into the air, chanting and dancing as the dense crowd of clanspeople celebrate him.

It’s like time slows as he peers from side to side eagerly, seeing the way Spider, Kiri and Tuk dance happily among his people. Jake and Neytiri stand near the fire, smiles wide when they see the look of awe on their middle son’s face.

When he’s finally set on his feet, he wobbles, childlike as he turns, taking in the glowing streamers that crisscross between the tents. Flowers of green and blue thread through the vines, gleaming like lamplight as the forest buzzes around them.

“Wha– What is all this?” Lo’ak croaks in disbelief, eyes flitting wildly as he notices Norm and Max standing next to a table they’d hauled from the pod to the circle, piled high with meats and vegetables wrapped in leaves.

A platter of yovo fruits, his favorite, are at the center, surrounded by a painted sign with his name and the handprints of dozens of villagers on it.

“You survived another orbit!” Neteyam laughs heartily, head-locking the younger boy before roughly digging his knuckles into the top of his head.

A laugh bubbles from Lo’ak’s lips, swatting his brother away as villagers and clan members he’d grown up with approach him one by one to greet him.

As the night progresses, he doesn’t even realize he’s searching until your mother approaches and his spine goes rigid, cheeks warming under her piercing gaze.

“From my ________,” she says, setting a pouch into his palms. “She toiled over these for many eclipses. Please take care.”

Lo’ak’s nod is delayed as his satchel shifts on his shoulders, a dull reminder that your journal still remains with him, begging to be read.

“Where– Where is she?” he asks suddenly, feeling your absence all the more now that your gift sits in the palm of his hand.

“My daughter does not feel well,” your mother says simply. “She wished to be excused from the festivities.”

His chest feels hollow, stomach tight as his cheeks burn. You’d mentioned this to him, all those days ago in the training circle, about wanting to celebrate with him.

His eyes flit to the flowers looped through the vines, the mountain of yovo fruits, the gift in his hands. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous. Doesn’t want to fuel the tiniest ember of hope in chest, but he can’t help it.

He can’t help but read into it, into the implications of this celebration you’d planned all for him, into every word you uttered to him in the quiet of the forest’s chirping.

It’s all it takes for him to lock himself in his own head. The feast melts into the background, dull, as his eyes cut the crowd for you.

You have to be here, gotta be hanging around the outskirts silently. The idea taunts him, makes his gut twist hard as images of you dancing in the circle, singing to him, celebrating him, loving him—

Lo’ak freezes, blinking incredulously at the thought that’d just crossed his brain. It makes him queasy, makes the regret and the guilt gnaw at every nerve ending as your crying face flashes like an unwanted slideshow in his brain.

It’s all he can think about as the festivities die, as villagers begin turning in the for the night and he helps his family clean up the aftermath of another orbit finally finished.

Spider helps Tuk and Neteyam near the fire, and as Lo’ak moves through the motions like he’s caught in a tide, Kiri watches, knowing all too well what consumes her brother’s mind.

It isn’t until Lo’ak is shrouded by the stillness of the early morning, his family tucked in their tent, bodies and limbs splayed as they sleep together, that he sits in a swinging hammock, your journal and the pouch in his lap.

It feels wrong, the way he thumbs the cover, working up the courage to turn it open. But Ewya, fate, would have never left it in his wake if it wasn’t meant to be read.

As his finger ghosts the etchings of the front cover, worn and loved by you, something tickles his leg as he admires the leather. He blinks in disbelief when he sees a singular woodsprite resting against his thigh.

Before he loses his nerve, he’s opening the pages with bated breath.

Recipes, nature notes, short thoughts fill the sheets and Lo’ak feels like he’s reading into your brain, seeing all the little things no one bothers to know.

he is like the sun,

shines so bright,

but burns the closer you get.

Lo’ak’s pointer finger glosses over the ink, over your curly handwriting.

he is so incredible, but he doesn’t even know it. i want to shout it to every creature in the forest, every tree and every flower. oh, how i wish to be as fearless as him.

His chest heaves as the words blur.

Fearless.

In this moment, he feels everything but. He feels like a coward.

He continues to flip, throat lodged as he sees drawings, both rough sketches and full renderings. He hadn’t even known that you liked to draw, yet here he was, observing his home through your artistic eye.

Flowers, leaves, trees, creatures, insects, fruits mar the stained papers, etched like it’d been caught in real time.

likes green and blue.

likes yovo fruits.

The entry from the day you’d first walked with him through the forest.

When he turns the page, his breath hitches.

In full color, you’d captured his bullseye from your first training session. His back taut from the release, expression shaded stoic. He looked mighty, like the strongest warrior, and it was all through your eyes.

Lo’ak doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the bullseye in the illustration bleeds from a fallen tear. Another one drips from his chin, then another.

The next page is the night you two had poured your hearts out to each other. Again, in full color, he’s watching the stars. You don’t leave out the glow of the freckles that smatter his face and body, don’t miss the smile that plays at his lips as he quietly points out that his dad had come from a star.

He flips again and different iterations and designs for what seems like jewelry litters the pages, shaded with different colors of blue and green, marked with varying notes, x’s marking through ideas you didn’t like.

Lo’ak remembers the pouch, sitting untouched in his lap, and his shaky fingers undo the ties. He shakes the contents on the flat of the notebook and the most intricate beadwork fits into the crease.

His eyes widen as he picks up the necklace in a trembling hand, the eclipsing sun catching the etching in the flat stones.

Four five-fingered hands and four four-fingered ones, each separated by jewels scavenged and cleaned from the bed of the glowing river.

A small scroll flutters from the pouch and Lo’ak chokes back as sob as he unrolls the hide.

Happy Birthday, Lo’ak. I am always grateful to know someone like you. May your next orbit be filled with endless blessings from Ewya and may you see yourself how I see you.

You see him, he realizes. You’re his supporter, a silent force that consumes every insecurity and swallows every doubt. You believe in him more than he believes in himself.

He stands from the hammock and runs.

You’re sitting in the same tree the two of you had rested in the night you’d confided in Lo’ak, watching as the sun eclipses and begins to light up the sparkling forest.

Something rustles and you sit up, hand on the hilt of your dagger as you search the area for movement.

As your eyes lock on the source, you almost wish it had been a beast coming to devour you whole. But as Lo’ak climbs the branches of the tree quickly, you feel the dread begin to solidify in your veins.

You take your satchel, hanging from a nearby branch and sling it over your shoulder, pulling your shawl over your head to prepare for your escape.

“________, wait,” he chokes breathlessly. “Please.”

You feel like crying all over again, feel so unbelievably stupid thinking that Lo’ak would ever see you the way that you see him.

You pause a beat as he settles on the branch across from yours, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

Something glints in the sun and your eyes widen when you see that Lo’ak has fastened the necklace you made him around his neck, right above the the leather chain that holds his beloved claw charm.

“You’re wearing it,” you whisper, lips twitching into a frown as you try your best to keep your tears at bay.

“I’m sorry, ________,” Lo’ak apologizes hoarsely. “Fuck, you don’t understand how sorry I am.”

The tears well on their own.

We’re not friends. We never were and we never will.

The words haunt you like a broken record and you shake your head, moving from your perch to move down the branches.

“Wait, wait,” Lo’ak pleads. “Please don’t go, I–”

“I hate you,” you whisper. “I hate you, Lo’ak.”

He freezes, watching as you balance on a branch below.

“I tried so hard to be your friend,” you whimper, angrily wiping away your tears. “You’re amazing. You’re strong, and you’re fearless, and you are everything I want to be, but you’re heartless.”

Lo’ak lets out a shuddering breath, a chill running down his spine as you look up at him like he’d smashed every star in the sky.

“I wanted to be with you, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “I hoped that maybe if I stuck it out, you’d see how much I cared, how badly I wanted to be with you, even if it was from a distance.”

“I do, _________, I do!” he argues.

He hadn’t always, but he sees it now. He sees you.

You shake your head again.

“You don’t,” you sigh, voice trembling. “It’s my fault anyways. You were right. You told me to leave you alone and I was being too much.”

“Stop–”

“Let this be the last time,” you assure him. “Let’s just– Let’s pretend we never met.”

“No, _________. Wait!”

You’re climbing down the tree and disappearing into the brush and, like a fleck of ash, you’re disintegrating into nothingness.

Most people think he’s being moody, that he’s just been scolded by his father or older brother, but Neytiri knows better.

She sees the way her son has changed over the course of the past few weeks. She knows there is a great burden that he carries, but much like her beloved and her eldest, he suffers in silence.

“Maitan,” she says quietly, brushing a braid from his face as he folds the leaves around a chunk of steaming meat.

Lo’ak pauses almost imperceptibly, but continues his task.

It isn’t like him to stay home and work with Neytiri. If anything, he’d be the first one out of the tent, Tuk, Spider, and Kiri tailing after him as they galavant through the endless forest.

“Something weighs heavy in your heart,” she tries again, hand coming over his.

Lo’ak stops and leans back, unable to meet his mother’s searching gaze.

“I hurt someone,” he says quietly.

Neytiri stiffens.

“What?”

“I hurt someone I care about,” Lo’ak admits. You’d called him fearless, strong. He needed to live by your word. “I hurt her and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Oh, Lo’ak,” she murmurs, squeezing his hand gently.

Her face has softened as she takes in his stony expression.

“My son, some things cannot be fixed,” she says honestly. “But all things require great effort. Sometimes those efforts will fall through, but that is the natural order of life.”

Lo’ak swallows.

“Whoever this special person is, if you have hurt her, she deserves the full effort of your heart, no?”

You do, he knows you do. You deserve every last effort. But a niggling streak of insecurity tells him that you don’t deserve someone like him. You don’t deserve someone who takes your affections for granted. You deserve someone who will love you with every breath, who will love you fearlessly.

“I really messed things up, Mom,” Lo’ak says quietly. “I don’t…”

Neytiri’s hand comes to Lo’ak chest.

“The night I first met your father, Ewya gave me sign,” she says. “He has a pure, strong heart. You do too.”

Lo’ak swallows.

“Be brave, Maitan,” she says. “Sometimes that is enough.”

Lo’ak’s fingers hurt from picking berries.

His cuticles bleed, pricked by the thorns of the fruit’s bush. Kiri hums beside him, weaving a little bag out of ropes of thin vines.

“You’re not gonna help me?” he whines.

“Why should I help you with your mess?”

You look beautiful under the glow of the evening meal’s crackling fire. It’s the first time you’ve emerged since before Lo’ak’s birthday feast and you’re being flocked by elders and villagers, wishing you well and asking about your supposed ailment.

He sits across the fire, fists tight as he searches for a lull in the crowd.

Spider snickers next to him, devouring the contents of his plate like he’s starved, watching Lo’ak’s useless pining like a show.

Be brave.

He’s standing to his feet before he can back out, crossing the circle to approach you. The villagers watch like they know something he doesn’t and the nerves are eating away at him as he steps into your space.

You look up from your conversation with a girl your age, the smile slipping from your lips.

“Can we talk?” Lo’ak asks, eyes wandering to watch the way everyone watches him.

You remain jaded.

“Now’s not a good time,” you say quietly and a few onlookers snicker in the background. “________,” Lo’ak tries again.

You stare up at him, the shadow of the fire dancing over your features as you seemingly look right through him. It’s humiliating, the way you remain seated and watch him fidget, but he figures he deserves the cold shoulder after months, years of casting you to the side.

“Let’s go?” you ask the girl, nodding your head over your shoulder.

The girl chances a glance between you and Lo’ak, noticing the telltale sign of your work etched into the stones of the choker he hadn’t taken off since his birthday.

She gives him a sympathetic smile as she follows after you.

He’s going to have to try a lot harder than he has, he realizes as your birthday looms right around the corner. The next eclipse, in fact.

He’s losing hope, losing courage, but he can’t give up on you two just yet.

He makes sure the berries he picked the days prior are packed tightly in his bag, the lid to the nectar fastened, and his present wrapped nicely.

It’s his last hope, his last shot to make things right.

Spider, Tuk, and Neytiri surround him, Neteyam and Jake off on a hunt.

They’d all been privy to the fact, aiding him in his endeavors as he organized his final grapple with your heart.

“Kiri said she’ll bring her right before eclipse,” Spider says, peeking from the flap of the tent. “That’s in, like, minutes.”

Lo’ak is nervous. Doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses you for good, but he knows he has to give it his best effort. It’s the least you deserve.

Be brave. Sometimes that is enough.

Lo’ak glances at his mom and she gives him a warm smile, ruffling his braids.

“You are the son of Toruk Makto,” she assures him, pinching his cheek. “There is nothing you cannot do.”

The words are carved into his brain as he rushes through the forest, the the stream that the curls and bends through the forest. It glows beautifully at night and that is his final push.

“Wait, give me like three seconds, I left something.” Kiri’s voice is muffled behind the trees.

“Huh?” Lo’ak sees the way your head tilts through an opening in the foliage.

“I’ll only be a second!”

“Wait, Kiri!”

Kiri is running straight for him, comes barreling through the bushes, and continues down the path.

“Good luck, egghead!”

Lo’ak takes in a final breath to quell the tremor in his hands before ducking through the bushes to reveal himself.

You’re sitting on the embankment, on a woven mat that Kiri had laid out for you two, decorative vines edging the seams.

“Oh, you were–”

You peer over your shoulder and your expression falls.

“Lo’ak…”

“Happy birthday, ________,” he breathes.

You don’t look amused, slinging your bag over you shoulder as you rise to your feet.

“Kiri and I are hanging out,” you tell him.

He scratches the back of his head.

“I…I had Kiri bring you here because I knew that you wouldn’t come with me if I asked,” he admits. “And of course, I don’t blame you, but I– I just really need to talk to you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, unable to look him in his eyes as he draws nearer.

“Just give me some time, please,” he pleads.

You finally meet his gaze, searching his eyes as he looks down at you earnestly.

You give him the tiniest nod, reluctantly shedding your satchel to reassume your seat on the mat.

The waters rush gently, like a song as Lo’ak lowers himself next to you.

His palms are clammy as he fidgets in his seat, the scent of herbs and flowers wafting from your dewy skin. He can’t bring himself to look at you, afraid that every sentiment he’d crafted in the hours of the night will escape him, so he watches the bubbling of the stream.

“Well?” you whisper, like you don’t want to shatter the fragile sheath of peace that layers you.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know I’ve said it already, but I really am, ________.”

“I know,” you murmur and his gaze flits to yours. “Even if you don’t act like it, you have a good heart, Lo’ak. You feel everything, even the things you don’t want to.”

He swallows.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says carefully. “I was mad and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

You sit silently, knees hugged to your chest. Your cheek rests against your knee, watching Lo’ak with seeing eyes. It makes him trip over his words.

“My whole life, I’ve always been compared to Neteyam,” he says. “The entire village would whisper about me and how I was nothing like the mighty warrior.”

When he glances at you, he notices your fingers twitch, like you want to reach out to him.

He squashes his fears and turns to face you, five-fingered hand coming up to thread with your four. You watch the union, uncertainty obvious in the way you tense, but Lo’ak squeezes.

“And then when we started growing up, you were just another person I had to live up to,” Lo’ak whispers. “You’re perfect, ________. You’re kind, and you’re smart, talented. You’re everything I’m not and it made me hate you.”

You shrink, but Lo’ak pulls you towards him, hand coming up to brush your cheek.

“But you’re all of that and more,” he continues, the words gushing like a river. “You’re always there, you support me and you defend me and see things I don’t.”

You become shy under his gaze because for the first time, he’s seeing you. He’s seeing you for every single thing you’ve been to him and it makes your stomach knot.

“I have something to tell you,” he says. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Your gaze is soft, palm still in his as he turns and reaches into the bag he discarded next to him. Your eyes widen when he produces your notebook, edges curled the slightest as he hands it to you.

“My journal,” you say, taking it from him quickly. “I’ve been looking for this. Why- Why do you have it?”

He looks guilty, lips rolling as he avoids your gaze.

“Did you…”

“I wasn’t going to,” he admits. “But there were woodsprites and I knew it was a s–”

“Lo’ak this is private,” you murmur incredulously. “Why would you read this?”

“How long, ________?” he asks quietly, grip on your hand tightening.

“Lo’ak, don’t–”

“How long?” he presses desperately.

Your eyes are watering, like that wicked night all over again and Lo’ak begs Eywa for the final push.

“Since we were ten,” you whisper brokenly. “It was my first performance and it was so stupid, but I was throwing up because I was nervous and you talked me through it.”

Lo’ak is stunned, the memory like the faintest of outlines.

“We didn’t even know each other that well,” you hiccup. “But you patted me on the back and you gave me this–”

You pull your fingers from his grasp and flip the journal to the last page, revealing a hidden pocket. Your nimble fingers pull a tattered string, the remnants of a vine, threaded with wilted flower petals, preserved from being pressed inside your notebook.

“You said that they made you make it during lessons,” you say, breath hitching. “That it’d be my good luck.”

He’d forgotten all about the memory completely, too caught up in driving whatever wedge he could between you two, building up walls to seal you out.

“And you kept it this whole time?” he asks, face scrunched in disbelief.

“I’d hold on to anything you give me,” you admit in defeat. “Heartbreak included.”

He lets out a shaky breath.

“________, I’m so sorry,” he repeats, hand coming up to your neck. “You have to know that. I’m really fucking stupid, but if you give us a shot, I won’t mess it up.”

Your hand comes up to his wrist, crumpling as you bow your head.

“Don’t do this to me,” you beg, moving to break away from him.

“Please.”

His hold tightens, other hand twining with yours.

“If I…if I give myself to you, I’m giving you everything,” you say hesitantly. “If you break this, you break me. I don’t think I can come back from this.”

Lo’ak presses his forehead to yours, breath warm against your lips as he searches your gaze for any semblance of hope.

“This is me being fearless, ________,” he whispers.

You melt, pressing your lips to his tentatively. He’s frozen for the shortest of moments before relenting, pushing up onto his knees to deepen the kiss.

He’s cradling your face and your hands are wandering and Lo’ak can’t help but think he could get used to loving you.

To being loved by you.

BONUS

“I was gonna give it to you on your birthday,” Lo’ak says sheepishly a few nights later under the stars. “But, you know…”

Your usual place among the branches of the looming trees have a lot of memories both bitter and sweet, but you suppose you could make new ones.

“You don’t have to give me anything,” you say sweetly, tail swishing to wrap around his ankle. “You’re all I need.”

Lo’ak doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to your saccharine words if the pounding in his chest is anything to go by.

His hands are shaky as he pushes the hide towards you, a bow made of vine tied neatly around the gift.

“Wanted to,” he says simply, moving the hair from you face to see your reaction better. “Open it.”

You’re gentle with the present, like you are with most things, but eager to see what he’d gotten you.

A tiny gasp falls from your lips when you finally see it, wide eyes meeting his as you free the jars of paints he’d mashed up, the brushes he fashioned, and the brand new journal he bound himself.

“Lo’ak, wow…”

“So you can paint me more,” he says, then adds timidly. “Or maybe us. Maybe you could paint us.”

an — holy shit guys, this was such a big project for me because i really wanted to dive into so many different things in this fic. to everyone who was waiting patiently, thank you sososo much. as usual, i took a lot of creative liberties with this one, but i hope you guys enjoyed nonetheless! although requests are paused for me to catch up, like always, if you wanna chat with me about literally anything, my askbox is open. lots of love hehehe :) xx

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn

#lo'ak x reader #lo'ak sully #avatar the way of water #avatar way of water #avatar #atwow #avatar the movie #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak avatar #lo'ak angst #lo'ak fanfiction

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gothmikasagf · 4 months

Text

Project matchmaker

Pairings: Lucifer x gn!reader, huskerdust

Warnings: reader is bored, bad choices, Lucifer is clueless and just wants to make Charlie happy, very bad choices, some swearing, crack fic, don't take this too seriously, reader is a dumbass, no smut. You might experience second-hand embarassement, sorry not sorry.

Summary: Valentine's day is approaching and reader is bored and wants to play matchmaker with Angel Dust and Husker. Lucifer is accidentally roped into it because he wants to make a good impression on Charlie. Chaos ensues.

Word count: 3.5k

Notes: I apologize for everything in advance. English is not my first language. Let's pretend Lucifer is actually over Lilith for the sake of the fic. Very, very nervous to post this but here we go.

Residing at the Hazbin Hotel wasn't as bad as people made it out to be. It was actually pretty difficult to find free rent and good company in hell, so even if you weren't sure about the whole redeeming thing, you weren't bothered in the slightest.

You spent the majority of your days going along with Charlie's exercises and gossiping with Angel Dust whenever he was free. You thought of yourself as pretty lucky compared to the average sinner in hell, so you weren't really complaining.

Still, there was something missing, some other form of entertainment, a dynamic that would switch up daily life a little and make it less boring. And after the weekly movie night on Voxflix that's when it hit you.

Since Valentine's day was getting closer, you and Angel decided to watch a cheesy rom-com, one of those that makes you sigh and squeal even if you don't believe in that type of love outside of the screen. You were just wondering about who the main couple reminded you of with flirty banter and hidden stares when suddenly the best idea ever-kind of-came to you!

"You okay over there, toots?" Angel had looked over to you worriedly.

"Never been better!" you smiled at him and redirected your attention to the movie, a plan forming in your mind.

You weren't even sure if Valentine's day was still a thing in hell, but if it wasn't, you were going to bring it back.

What you didn't know, though, was that the very own king of hell was gonna be accidentally roped into your schemes. And that you would end up developing an embarrassing crush on him.

Two days after your (not so) brilliant idea, you were in front of Charlie's room, asking for an audience.

You were ready to oversell your cause if necessary, but you knew Charlie had a good heart, and the fact that this idea might be beneficial for the hotel gave you high hopes.

You told her how it would have been wonderful if you could decorate the hotel's lobby for Valentine's day because everyone deserves a little bit of love, especially in hell! And throwing a small party would surely attract some new sinners.

At the end it didn't take much convincing. Charlie was very happy to have the opportunity to lure more people into trying to redeem themselves, and Vaggie wasn't too opposed either, as long as it was kept civil.

And that's how you found yourself in this predicament.

"I think pink would be the best suited for it." You said to none other than the king of hell. He was hunched over a gigantic banner that read "Valentine's day" followed by various hearts, and his face was scrunched into a deep, concentrated face.

After your successful meeting with Charlie, you thought either she or Alastor would have been the ones helping you with the task of decorating the hotel, you didn't know how wrong you were. Alastor didn't want anything to do with the project, pretending to be fully immersed in who knows what he was able to come up with on the spot. And you guessed that's when the big boss of hell himself came into the picture; having heard of Alastor's failure, he immediately jumped in to try and make himself look better in Charlie's eyes, even if it meant having to work with a lowly sinner like you.

He wasn't as annoyed by your presence as you were expecting, even if you were kind of bossing him around to get everything perfect. You would have the time to regret this later, right now you couldn't afford to not have the right atmosphere for what you were planning.

He nodded in approval and magically switched the color from red to pink, leaving some red hearts to create a better effect.

This wasn't your first time meeting the king of hell, you were right there when he and Alastor started fighting over who was the best father figure to Charlie. Although you didn't get to talk much that time or the one after that, as he was busy kicking Adam's ass. You were amazed by his powers, as any sinner like you would, and you found him to be quite a peculiar person. So you were quite happy, and also a bit intimidated, to spend this time alone with him.

"Now it's perfect" you said, finally happy with the final result. You started to think of a way to put it up effectively without having to use the hotel's old and rusty ladder when he unfurled his wings and easily put it in place.

They were so majestic and you had never seen such a shade of pure white, it wasn't really common in hell. You wondered how he kept them so pristine after all those years.

"Are we done now?" He asked while landing gracefully on the ground.

You looked around the lobby and smiled proudly at yourself. The bar was adorned with pink and white garlands, and cute and small red hearts spread here and there. From the ceiling, some pink and white paper flowers you and Angel Dust made were hanging beautifully, and the banner just tied them all together.

"We're just missing a little something." You said, not looking at him in the eyes. This was going to be the real protagonist of the event, and convincing him was going to be crucial.

He raised an eyebrow and looked at you expectantly. "We just need some mistletoe right there" you pointed at a secluded corner near the bar, where surely you'd manage to rope Angel and Husker close enough so that they at least would have to address the heart eyes they sent each other all the time. They weren't being as subtle as they thought.

"Mistletoe?" Lucifer crossed his arms and looked at you, confused.

"Yeah, you know the one that people usually have to kiss under. I think it makes a lot more sense for Valentine's day than Christmas, if I have to be honest."

"That's-" he tried to say, but you interrupted him because you really needed it for the plan to continue.

"I know, I know, but I spoke to Charlie and we reached an agreement." you really hoped that mentioning Charlie's approval was going to be enough for him to do it. You also hoped he wouldn't actually ask her because you did not have her approval for it. You were playing dirty, but you couldn't just surrender halfway through victory.

The man in front of you sighed, but he did it, you secretly thanked your lucky stars and tried to act as less suspiciously as possible.

You were getting good at this. Maybe you should really start considering a career in matchmaking.

"What does the king of hell think?" You asked while admiring your work. Maybe he didn't exactly like you or find your company suitable for his tastes, but you still thought you did a pretty good job together.

"I think it's still missing something" he said, looking around. He had discarded the jacket and hat half an hour ago, and you were just noticing he looked really good without them.

You were so wrapped up in your little plan that you didn't even take a good look at him. And maybe it should have stayed that way because he was Charlie's father, and oh, when did the room start to become so hot?

"Maybe a duck or two" he whispered to himself while scanning the bar's decorations. You took a little break from the inner hyperventilating to look at the same spot as him.

Was it some sort of hell's tradition you weren't aware of?

Maybe it was the sudden temperature increase in the room, or maybe you just wanted to make a good impression after an hour and a half of bossing him around (what were you even thinking?) but you found yourself agreeing with him. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

That night, the party was in full swing. The hotel's residents and some other sinners who didn't hate the idea of the theme party were all gathered in the hotel's lobby.

Charlie was ecstatic and she was going from sinner to sinner to explain her cause and invite them to the hotel. A way less hyper Vaggie was following her around, making sure everything went smoothly.

Alastor was still nowhere in sight, maybe hanging out with his friend named Rosie; while Nifty was going around chasing with a knife two bugs she found banging. They weren't going to have a good Valentine's day.

You were sitting at the bar next to Angel Dust, who was happily chatting away with you and Husker.

Lucifer was nowhere to be seen; he had appeared just before the beginning of the party, proudly showing you "his latest creation". A pink rubber duck with a bow and a small red hat resembling his own was pushed in front of your face. "It's a backflipping duck who also spits fire, and it's Valentine's day themed!" He grinned at you.

"That's remarkable" you had said and placed it on the bar counter, away from prying hands that could use it for who knows what.

"This was such a great idea y/n! We should do this every year!" an excited Charlie appeared behind you. "My dad is gonna be back soon, but I have to say you two did a really good job with the place." She patted you on the back and went back to chasing sinners.

"Yeah, what prompted you to do that?" Husk asked from behind the bar. You looked at the drink in your hand and shrugged. "I was bored"

Angel Dust snickered from next to you. "Our little y/n watched too many romantic comedies and thought they would hit it off with short king and maybe go at it or-"

"Woah" you chocked on air while Husk hid a smirk pretending to wipe the counter. "Angel, what the fuck?" You looked around to make sure no one important was listening in on your conversation.

"You didn't say no" he laughed, throwing his head back while Husk was pretending to swipe the floor where a couple of the red hearts had fallen. He was so close to the mistletoe.

"Because I don't need to, you'd have to be crazy to think you can bag the king of hell of all people" you hiss while trying to think of a way to get Angel there too.

"Darling, his wife left years ago, and he clearly hasn't gotten it on with anyone yet; don't sell yourself short." You took the duck you had put away and pretended to throw it at him. Only you accidentally pressed it, and actual flames started to shoot out from its mouth, causing Angel to jump back and land on the floor right next to Husk!

Your eyes went wide, and you dropped the duck to the floor. "Shit, I'm so sorry"

"Oh wow, he fell right under it" a new voice added.

Lucifer was right behind you and sent you an amused but also slightly confused smirk. Did he think you tried to kill one of your friends to get him under the mistletoe? Well, no shit he disliked sinners.

"Under what?" Angel started massaging his ass cheeks, you winced a little, thinking the impact of landing on the hard floor must have hurt him.

"Oh, y/n didn't tell you? We put mistletoe right there" he pointed at the exact spot. Now you were starting to rethink this whole plan, but it was already too late, so you had no choice but to push through.

"You know the tradition, right?" Husk shot you an unimpressed look while Angel was still on the floor.

"C'mon, it's not like you have to make out like them" you pointed at two sinners who were getting it on in a corner ever since they stepped into the party. You couldn't really blame them, wasn't that the spirit of the festivity anyway? Any kind of love was supposedly appreciated.

Then something amazing actually happened: Husk took Angel's hand in his, kissed it lightly, and pulled a blushing version of the spider to his feet.

Considering the way they had been dancing around each other for months, this was a huge accomplishment, and it was all thanks to you! At that point, you were too busy mentally giving yourself a pat on the back for the good job to fully pay attention to something that resembled Charlie's squealing coming from the back of the room. Did she have a radar or something?

When you met Husk's eyes the next second, though, you knew you had to get out of there and fast or you were done for. "Happy Valentine's day" you winked at them before sprinting like the coward you were to the other side of the lobby, leaving Lucifer and his little pink duck to handle the consequences.

Realistically, Husk and Angel combined couldn't hurt him even if they tried really hard, so you weren't too worried for him, and the duck had demonstrated she could defend herself quite efficiently.

As the party drew to a close, Charlie had roped you all into helping to clean up the place. You were busy taking down the bar decorations, carefully putting them in a box to store them for the following year, when you felt someone come up behind you.

You turned around and saw Angel dust with a handful of the white and pink paper flowers. He was headed right for the box on the counter, not looking at you.

"Hey, I'm sorry about earlier, I didn't mean for it to happen the way it did. You shouldn't have gotten hurt." You kept your eyes on the garlands, refusing to meet his eyes.

"No hard feelings toots, but next time I'm not letting you pick the movie. And no more romantic comedies for you" you laughed as he carefully maneuvered the flowers into the box.

"Okay, I deserved that" he smiled at you. You took one of the flowers and offered it to him as a peace offering.

He took it, careful not to ruin your hard work, and pretended to swoon over it. Your friendship was gonna be okay. Surely you were even now? You even gave up rom-coms for a while.

After successfully taking all of the decorations down, you were headed to throw the mistletoe into the trash. It had fulfilled his role and caused enough chaos already.

Halfway through the path to the trash can you spotted Lucifer magically fixing some of the hotel furnishings that had been destroyed by some sinners.

He stopped when he noticed you and started heading your way. Oh no, did he find out already? You couldn't just run the other way now.

"I just spoke to Charlie, and she was really happy about the party, but something tells me the mistletoe wasn't on the list of approved decorations" he raised an eyebrow at you, weight propped on his cane.

You huffed out a breath you didn't know you were holding in and scrambled your brain for an excuse. Surely he wouldn't hate you too much? Having the king of hell against you was already bad enough, but having the king of hell against you while you had a pathetic little crush on him was even worse.

"That was a personal project" you said reluctantly, looking everywhere but at him.

"Oh, and how did this project of yours go then?" you dared to take a quick look at his face, and his amused smirk, which made him look unfairly sexy by the way, was starting to make you think he was on his own personal mission to embarrass you.

"Fairly well, if we don't consider I almost cooked and burned one of my friends to a crisp. Sick duck, by the way."

"No, she's not sick, just themed." you almost burst out laughing at that. Maybe you should tell Charlie to keep him more up to date. "But maybe next time you shouldn't meddle with the heart's matters, you'll find out it's better if things just happen naturally" oh shit, how was he hot even while lecturing you? This wasn't good. He wasn't good for your sanity.

You held up the mistletoe to take one final look at it. "Yeah, lesson learned. I was just about to throw it out."

Only, Angel Dust chose that exact moment to carry out his revenge, and you should have absolutely seen it coming, it was once again your fault, and you could only blame yourself.

"Oh wow, they're right under it. You know the tradition, right?" He mocked. Husk was right behind him, two boxes in his hands, and he was holding in a laugh. They passed right by you and left you and Lucifer alone. You were really starting to question all of the choices that brought you to that moment.

Maybe if you asked him to kill you right there and then he would be kind enough to put an end to your suffering.

"Oh, fuck me" you muttered, your eyes scanning the lobby for the closest exit. Escaping without saying goodbye to Charlie wasn't an ideal solution, but you knew she wouldn't want to see your face ever again after this.

"Won't you at least let me take you out on a date first? I am more on the old fashioned side" he grinned.

You were sure you heard him wrong. It surely was one of those cases when you mix up what the person you like says in your imagination with what they actually say in real life. Was the mistletoe also hallucinogenic? You wouldn't be surprised if it was.

"I'm sorry for Angel Dust, sometimes he just doesn't know when to shut up" You immediately lowered your arm and hid the evil little thing behind your back.

"Should I take it as a no then?" he didn't stop smiling, but it looked less sincere now.

"Wait, oh-" you scrambled for an answer that wouldn't make you look even more pathetic "I would love to, but only if you mean it, this evil thing has already caused enough chaos" you finally tossed the mistletoe into the nearest trash can.

"Darling, you forget I'm the king of hell, no little plant has authority over me" he chuckles, and you smile at him.

If either of you noticed something resembling Charlie's squealing and her being dragged away by Vaggie, you didn't say anything. You didn't even think twice when you didn't see Angel Dust and Husk returning quite yet from depositing those two boxes into the storage closet; so you liked to think that at the end of the day, both you and Lucifer were right, letting things happen on their own was good, but a little push in the right direction didn't actually hurt anyone.

And when Lucifer planted both of his hands on your face to pull you into a kiss, you thought that maybe you shouldn't have thrown away the mistletoe at all.

#hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #lucifer magne x reader #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar x reader #husker x angel dust #huskerdust

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lovebugism · 1 year

Note

i am so sorry but reader talking about robin right before making out with eddie is like absolutely the best thing i’ve ever read i’m obsessed i genuinely can’t wait for anything else in that universe that you do

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | god help the girl

summary: in which you come to terms with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with eddie munson. pairing: virgin!eddie munson x reader word count: 13k warning: phone sex, more discussions of shitty boyfriends, j*son c*rver name drop, talks of unhealthy eating practices, smut 18+ mdni! a/n: this ask has been sitting in my inbox for ages now, but i wanted to save it until robin made an appearance in the series! thank you, anon, for being so sweet! and for the few of you who've been waiting on me to finally post <3 hope you enjoy! xoxo

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

They only met once, but it changed their lives forever.

That’s what the movie cover reads at least, but the words have long blurred into a jumbled mess at your tunnel vision. John Bender stares you in the face, but all you see is Eddie — boyish and brazen and scowling because he thinks it makes him look intimidating, but nowhere near as cruel as he seems.

He’s certainly got the hair for it, much longer and curls far wilder than Judd Nelson’s measly set of brushed-back locks. He’s got the terribly animated personality down pat, too; the one that either makes you laugh uncontrollably or squirm in discomfort when it’s pointed your way. And the style’s a pretty fine match also, though you’d argue that no one sports a leather jacket quite like Eddie Munson does.

Wallowing in your boredom at the empty Family Video store on Main Street — where your best friends slave over mundane work with aching backs and a lingering sense of gratefulness that no customer has been in in well over an hour — you find yourself analyzing each character pictured on the front cover of The Breakfast Club.

Robin would surely be Allison, you conclude rather quickly, because their deadpanned glowers are eerily identical. They’ve also got this sort of atypical aura to them, too, like a dark storm cloud or the promise of a long night. But strangely it sparkles — strikes of lightning or a sky full of stars. It draws everyone’s attention to them; even when they’re desperately trying to hide in the very back of a room.

And Steve would be Andrew, not particularly because of his affections for this Allison-Reynolds-Robin-Buckley hybrid you’ve concocted, but because "popular guy with daddy issues" is a trope that fits him far too well. He’s way more likely to get detention for trying to look cool in front of his assholes friends than for anything actually malicious of heart. But that would’ve been years ago now. He’s not that kind of guy anymore.

He’s soft and sweet — a Brian Johnson sort of soft and sweet, if you will. If Brian wasn’t the brains, but the sweetest dumbass anyone’s ever met.

You realize then, that Jim Hopper would make a mean Richard Vernon. He’s impatient to a fault, almost too stern at times, but never enough to make you genuinely fearful of him. You’ve found that it’s virtually impossible for you to take him seriously when he’s so cartoonishly angry. It’s a match made in heaven, you find, though Jim might take offense to the comparison.

And if Eddie is Bender, then that’d make you the Claire Standish of the bunch.

She’s dreadfully stylish, a bit stuck-up at times, and perhaps a little bit more spoiled than the average person; but it’s not like she ever claimed to be perfect. And you wouldn’t either.

You’ll take more pride in your wardrobe filled with pretty pleated skirts and flouncy dresses than your somewhat glacial disposition. And you might not be drowning in daddy’s money, but you’re certainly spoiled in other ways — if only in the employee discount at Enzo’s that got you wine for cheap and your connections at Family Video that meant free movie nights whenever you wanted.

The bad boy and the princess was a tale as old as time itself. It’s a fairytale you wouldn’t mind living in if it ended how it did in the movies — with a kiss on the cheek and an exchanged diamond earring in the calloused palm of another. A soft pink smile and a celebratory fist in the air.

But you’ve met your fair share of John Bender’s and none of them had been particularly kind to you, let alone had fallen in love with you.

Maybe that’s because you were no Claire Standish. Never pretty enough, never mousy enough, never pure enough. You try and dissect why you’ve never been successfully loved, and all the signs point to you, you, you.

You hope Eddie’s different. You need Eddie to be different.

“Something’s wrong with me,” you blurt out of nowhere.

Well, it’s not totally out of the blue for you. You’d been stewing over that thought since you got there — since you left the woods with damp underwear and the scent of you on Eddie’s fingers.

But to Steve and Robin, who’d stayed relatively silent and locked eyes only once after they noticed how abnormally hushed you’d gone, it catches them quite off guard.

Steve lifts his heavy head from where he mans the counter. His tired eyes leave the computerized catalog for the first time in forty minutes, and he has to rub at them with the bottom of his palms to see you properly. Meanwhile, Robin crouches at your side, taking returned tapes from the bin sitting next to her and placing them back upon the shelf you lean against.

She blinks up at you, deep ocean eyes swimming with apprehension, like she can sense the spiral you’ve just about twisted yourself into.

“What do you mean?” she wonders, ever the supportive best friend, as she plucks Heather’s, Pretty in Pink, and Weird Science from the bin and sets them onto their assigned rows in the Teen Drama section.

“Eddie won’t fuck me.”

Neither of them is particularly stunned by the unabashed nature of your admission.

Not only have they both fucked you at one point or another, but they’re your best friends — no one’s ever going to know you quite the way they do. It leaves little left unsaid between the three of you, with secrets you’ve all sworn to take to your graves. Steve once stuck a finger in his ass to see if he liked it (he did) and Robin sometimes gets off on her childhood teddy bear (rather ironically named Mr. Snuggles).

So this? This was nothing. Especially in comparison to all the other shit you’ve confessed to them because god knows the whore of Hawkins has a plethora of stories to tell.

Steve is more shocked by the name that leaves your mouth than anything else. “Eddie Munson?” he repeats with furrowed brows, like he had to have heard you wrong.

You bring your chin to your right shoulder to look at him, then nod.

“Eddie… The Freak… Munson?”

You nod again, slower for him this time.

“You wanna fuck… Eddie Munson?” Steve reiterates once more, as though the idea was too appalling to be true. “Eddie Munson — The Freak?”

“Yes, Steve,” you huff in irritation.

His face contorts into a puppy-like confusion. A frown settles between his bushy brows and he cocks his head to the side, nose scrunching and his lip quirking slightly. He couldn’t look more disgusted if he tried.

“…Why?”

You groan and tilt your head back dramatically. “That’s not what’s important here, Steve. The better question is why won’t he fuck me?”

The boy’s lack of any actual assistance doesn’t surprise Robin in the slightest — his dumbfounded gaze and innate confusion are actually pretty on brand. It just puts all the burden on her, to help you wriggle out of the mess you’d tangled yourself into.

It’s not like she isn’t used to it, though, nor does she mind doing it for you. She walks you through your emotions like a professional, squashing out all the burning orange embers for you before they have the chance to burst into flames.

“Well, what do you mean he won’t fuck you? Like… did he actually say that or does he just wanna, you know, take things slow?”

The latter would’ve been way too easy. Eddie’s always been nice enough to you. It’d make sense for him to want to stay unhurried and gentle with you, but those words weren’t exactly in your vocabulary.

The first time you were alone with him, you were getting yourself off on his thigh after making him come in his jeans. The next time you saw him, after four days of him clinging to your consciousness, there wasn’t as much small talk so much as there were two of his fingers stuffed knuckle-deep inside of you.

You don’t know Eddie’s birthday, but you know how he likes to be touched — squeezed and not rubbed. You don’t know his middle name or how he likes his eggs in the morning or what his relationship with his mother is like, but he’s already made you come. Twice.

You are completely, utterly, and totally incapable of taking things slow. So it wasn’t that. It couldn’t be. So it had to be the other thing. The very scary, terrifying, boogeyman of a thing.

“I mean, I offered to give him a blowjob and he completely turned me down,” you lament in reply.

Robin and Steve wince. Like, physically wince. Their faces scrunch and their heads flinch from something invisible. Audible ooh’s fall from their mouths without them even realizing it, because you don’t get rejected. Ever. Especially not after offering to pleasure someone without much of anything in return.

They don’t mean to react the way they do. The visible shock that coats their features is involuntary more than it is anything, and it only adds to your fears.

“Exactly!” you exclaim.

“I hate to say it, but I think hell might be freezing over as we speak,” Steve half-jokes.

“Well, he was working, right?” Robin asks with raised brows. “Maybe he was just busy.”

“Sorry, Rob, but no guy’s too busy for a blowjob.”

“Real charming, Stevie.”

“Maybe he just has a small dick,” the boy concludes with a shrug.

“I felt his dick,” you shake your head almost immediately. The feeling of Eddie’s hard cock through his denim jeans, all rough and warm against your palm, hasn’t yet left you. “It’s not small.”

“Well, maybe he can’t get it up—”

“Yeah, that’s not a problem either.”

Eddie was rock hard when you left him, throbbing and aching and obviously needing some kind of relief. That’s partly why you’d been so ardent to return the favor, though the other half of it was purely selfish — you haven’t seen a more beautiful sight than Eddie Munson getting off. To deprive yourself of that masterpiece made you feel like you were starving.

You have a hard time imagining the raging hard-on just… dissipating after you’d left him. That means he probably jerked off in the back of his van and you missed it. And if he came, right after he promised everything was okay, that means he just didn’t want you to do it… right?

Steve seems to be caught in the same inner turmoil you’re currently stuck in; and for good reason. In all the years he’s known you, he can count on one hand how many times he’s had to turn you down. And every time, it was because he’d gotten back together with Nancy. It was never because of you. Not once. And sometimes he felt like it hurt him as much as it did you.

As far as Steve’s concerned, you’re so out of Eddie Munson’s league that you’re not even in his fucking orbit — so the freak show, turning you down, doesn’t make whole lot of sense to him.

“Huh…”

“It’s me. It’s definitely me,” you conclude with the shake of your head. A bitter, almost hysterical laugh spills from your lips. “He thinks I’m fucking ugly or disgusting or something. It’s totally fucking me—”

Robin completely abandons her basket of tapes then. She rises to stand in front of you, looking timid as she does so. Her raised brows form wrinkles on her freckled forehead and her blue eyes widen to reveal more of the whites of them. She looks like she’s approaching a wild animal. A bomb that’s about to explode.

“Okay… You’re starting to spiral, alright? So let’s just try and take a few deep breaths—”

You don’t listen to her.

Actually, you do quite the opposite, as you begin to blurt every fleeting thought that crosses your mind.

“I’ve made out with nearly everyone in this stupid town— I’m pretty sure I’ve fucked almost half— and you’d think Eddie would wanna take advantage of that, the way everyone makes him out to be some sort of freak, right? But he hasn’t and at this rate, he won’t, and I just don’t understand why,” you ramble without taking in a single breath. “Usually being a slut is a huge turn-on for guys, you know? But what if Eddie thinks it’s gross? I mean, it is gross— I’m gross—”

You only stop for air when Robin takes your shoulders in both hands. She looks less apprehensive and more stern, as she forces you to look at her.

“Look. I love you, but you need to get a hold of yourself, alright? I know you’re not used to being told no, and I know how much it sucks, but shit happens. I’m willing to bet all the money I’ve ever seen that whatever is going on with Eddie has nothing to do with you, okay? And if it’s making you this upset, maybe you should just talk to him.”

“But I don’t wanna seem like I’m too eager, that’s gross—”

“Then find someone else to fuck,” she offers with her signature Robin Buckley half-smile. “I’m sure it would take you less than five minutes to find a willing participant.”

“Yeah, right here,” Steve jokes from the counter with the pathetic wave of his hand and a dumb grin on his lips.

You don’t hear him over the voices in your head — half calling you crazy for letting a boy drive you this mad over nothing, and the other half bitterly affirming each of your deep-rooted insecurities.

Your face screws up, like the thought of being with anyone other than Eddie upsets you — it does upset you.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Then what do you want?” Robin yells in your face, shaking you by your shoulders.

“I want Eddie!” you shout back without thinking. The words seem to spill out of nowhere. It takes you of all people by surprise. No one in this rat trap town would ever expect the whore of Hawkins to want to settle down, least of all the harlot herself. It’s strange; it’s riveting; it’s really fucking scary. “…Fuck.”

The brunette smirks, proud of herself. “Well. There’s your answer.”

“I hate when you’re right,” you mumble to yourself, pouting as she crouches back down again.

“I know.”

It was a terrifying thought, to know that you were head over heels for someone else. You try to come to terms with what that means.

Sometimes you think you fall in love with a new person every day. A cute guy holds the door open for you, a pretty girl compliments your outfit — they never think about you again, but they’re on your mind for days. It was so easy to develop such meaningless infatuations, especially when you were bored.

But Eddie was different.

He was a nice guy. A nice guy that was sweet to you just for the sake of being sweet to you; not because he secretly wanted something in return. That made you fall for him at first, but then you just… kept on falling. Eddie Munson was an infinite void you couldn’t crawl your way out of even if you wanted to, even if you tried.

And that’s what frightened you the most.

Because if you really thought about it, you’ve only truly been in love a handful of times. And, sure, it didn’t work out — that was normal — but some of them fucking ruined you.

You’re still trying to figure out who you are without all of the people that have broken your heart. You’re still fighting like hell every day to recognize the person you see in the mirror, while Billy Hargrove fucks off with a new girl every other week like he didn’t totally destroy you.

But, even still, Eddie was completely different. No one’s ever made you feel the way he makes you feel. And it’s more than the stupid heavy petting — it’s more than anything. It’s never been like this before; not even with the blonde mulleted asshole who ripped your heart to shreds.

And you’re scared that if you get hurt again, you’ll never be able to come back from it.

“Steve, do you have another copy of Fast Times in the back?” you suddenly ask the boy, tossing him a look over your shoulder.

It’s your last ditch effort to rid yourself of the ponderous, gray doom and gloom surrounding you like some storm cloud. Your comfort movie solves all of your problems — or, at the very least, Phoebe Cates does — but it seems everyone else in town has developed a similar fondness for minute fifty-three of the film and got all the tapes off the shelf before you could get your hands on one.

“You know I keep on in stock for you,” he answers quietly.

He reaches below the counter to pull out a spare copy for you, and your heart swells with the rays of a thousand rising suns and the songs of every morning bird.

Steve told you some time ago that he could change. And back then, all it did was piss you off, because he didn’t want to change for the town slut — for the girl he put through the goddamn ringer. He wanted to change for Nancy. The princess bruised his brittle ego a little, and then he realized what an asshole he’d been to everyone, to you.

But as angry as it made you, you never believed him. “Once the King of Hawkins High, always the King of Hawkins High,” you remarked bitterly.

You wouldn’t say it to his face, for the sake of keeping his ego from inflating all over again, but you could tell he was really changing.

He was kinder, he was softer. He stopped caring about what everyone thought about him, about what not caring would do to his reputation, and started giving a fuck about the people worth giving a fuck about.

Apparently, you were one of them.

“…Really?”

He nods with a subtle shrug. Like it was no big deal. Like it wasn’t one of the sweetest things he’d ever done for you — keeping your favorite movie on hand so you’ll always have a spare, knowing that it’s the only thing that gets you out of a deep, dark funk sometimes.

“Stevie… You’re gonna make me blush,” you lilt with a grin as you saunter over to him, hands innocently laced behind your back. “You need to be careful, Harrington. I’m gonna start to think you actually like me.”

He scoffs. “I do like you.”

“Yeah, when it’s convenient.”

It’s obvious your joke hits him where it hurts. It serves as a bitter reminder of the asshole he used to be, the douchebag he’s trying like hell to grow out of. He looks up at you with a sheepish, honey-tinted gaze before ducking away again.

A year or more ago it would’ve made you feel good, to know that you hurt him just a fraction of the way he hurt you. But you know that that isn’t the same man standing in front of you now, that he’d rather die than make hurt your feelings, and it makes you feel like shit for saying it in the first place.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a scrunched nose. The palms of your hands dig into the edges of the counter as you lean against it. Your shrug. “It just kinda came out…”

The barcode scanner in his hand beeps as he passes the thing over the back of the tape — never charging you, just getting the movie out of the database.

“So, uh…” he starts before clearing his throat. He focuses his gaze on the computer and types on the bulky keyboard with the tip of his pointer finger. “You really like this Eddie guy, huh?”

“Maybe. I think so.”

“And he’s not, like… a total freak or anything?”

You can’t tell if he’s trying to look out for you or if he just wants intel on what it’s like trying (and failing) to bang the local weirdo. Either way, it makes a smile tug slow at your lips as you joke: “Not in the way everyone thinks.”

“Jesus,” he winces at the obscenity of your words.

“Sorry,” you apologize again, though the laugh that bubbles from your lips after cancels out any hint of actual sincerity. “You don’t need to give me the talk or anything, Steve. I can take care of myself.”

“…Can you?” he half-jokes.

It makes you falter. “Well… With you and Robin and Hopper constantly on my ass, then yeah.”

“Just don’t want you to get hurt,” Steve finally admits, soft and suddenly shy as he hands the VHS over to you.

“That’s rich coming from you—”

He jerks back the tape before you can take it from him, leaving your hand reaching for thin air. His cinnamon eyes glimmer with a foreign seriousness, not completely unkind, but lacking their usual blithe. “That’s why I’m saying it. I just… I want you to be okay.”

Steve is one of the rare ones, you conclude right then in there — in the liminal emptiness of Family Video, beneath fluorescent lights that cast sharp shadows upon his already chiseled features. He was a mythical creature of a man, one who breaks your heart and does everything in his power to mend it again.

He hasn’t forgotten about what he did to you, not like Billy did, and he won’t. Not ever. He saw what he did to you and he never moved on from it, just matured enough to make sure it never happened again. And he won’t let another unworthy douchebag hurt you like he did. Not if he can help it, at least.

And he did try to warn you about Hargrove, to be fair. You were just the dumbass that didn’t listen.

“Well, me and my Phoebe Cates wet dream are golden, Pony Boy,” you promise. He hands you the tape again and lets you snatch it from his grip this time. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Stevie.”

Steve Harrington was right.

The fleeting thought flashes across your mind for half a second, and you quickly realize that those words have never been uttered in the same sentence before now. But he wasn’t wrong in what he’d said about you, just before you left — you were completely, totally, absolutely, and implicitly unable to take care of yourself.

You nearly passed out in the bathroom after taking the hottest shower of your life, feeling too woozy to slap on anything other than moisturizer because you failed to remember to actually eat something that day. It wasn’t totally your fault, though; if anything, it was because of Eddie and all the butterflies he’d given you that made food the very last thing on your mind.

You half-heartedly dry yourself off, keeping your hair in a towel, while you slip on a cotton set of underwear you’ve had for way longer than what's likely acceptable. Damp and half-naked, you prance into the kitchen to fix Bowie her bowl of dinner before you feed yourself.

You fork a can of wet food onto a flower-shaped plate and let her eat on the counter — because you’re an adult now, and you can do that sort of thing.

The calico purrs while she feasts, but your stomach thunders with negligence. You peek into your mostly bare refrigerator and make a mental note to go grocery shopping when you get paid next week.

With a lack of food and an even lesser will to cook something, you settle for the half-eaten chocolate bar you keep stashed in the very back of the fridge; kept only for the most special of occasions — when you’re reveling in your loneliness and trying to convince yourself that you can make it on your own.

It was practically the size of your forearm when you first bought the thing at some too expensive candy store in the city. Now it’s no bigger than your hand.

You eat the thing in bed, even though you know you’ll get crumbs everywhere and that it’ll make sleep agonizing for you — if you get any, that is. You’re bound to feel like a total zombie by the time the sun rises and the late-night sweet will likely make its appearance on your skin by then, in a red and raging blemish of a consequence.

You’ll feel empty and starved and surly, a snapping grouch instead of an actual person, until you get some actual food in your system.

And you’re more than aware of all of these things, but you don’t do a single damn thing about them.

You’re nothing but a sulking lump upon an unmade bed, lying in a pitch-black darkness that’s evaded only by the static-y television across your room, trying your best to pretend like you aren’t waiting for Eddie’s phone call. It’s hard to remember to forget him, though, when the movie you’re watching is practically a feature film of him and all the ways he makes you feel.

Spicoli and his terribly inebriated friends slur as they chorus “No shoes, no shirt, no diiiice” and you swear you can feel Eddie’s shoulder bump softly against yours as he laughs, hear every sound of his melodic chuckle in your ear that made you giggle right along with him. The low bass of Moving in Stereo plays in the otherwise empty silence of your bedroom, and every beat feels like the rhythm of your thrusts against his thigh.

Eddie Munson is all-consuming.

Even the thought of him feels physical.

Phoebe Cates all but undresses herself in front of you, but you’re stuck thinking about some guy who lives in a trailer park across town, deals drugs for a living, and can’t graduate high school. You’re a total fucking goner.

Your eyes flutter shut, and instead of the backs of your eyelids, you see Eddie’s trailer. Your lips start to tingle as they kiss his for the first time — hungry, yearning, needing. His thigh is pressed snugly into your cunt, denim jeans rough against your soft cotton panties, and you have to bite back a moan when he tenses every time you squeeze his hard, covered cock.

You can feel it, all of him, like he were here with you now.

You wish that he were.

His fingers would feel far better, leave far more sparks of electricity in your belly, than the ones as you sneak through the hem of your underwear.

You try and take things slow with yourself, to be as gentle as he had been with you earlier in the woods, but it feels strange to treat yourself with so much tenderness. To touch your pussy like it’s the first time it’s ever been touched. Like it’s a beautiful thing you need to be sweet to.

Maybe you find it so foreign to be careful with yourself because no one has ever been careful with you.

No one, except for Eddie.

Your touch doesn’t rival his. It doesn’t even come close.

No matter how tightly you squeeze your eyes shut or how hard you try to pretend that they’re his fingers inside of you, you can’t make yourself feel as good as he did.

Your fingers aren’t as rough as his guitar-string-scarred ones and they don’t caress your clit with the same methodical care. They don’t fill you quite the same either, nowhere near as satisfying as his much thicker ones.

And you’re no stranger to masturbation, not by any means. Sometimes it’s the only way you can guarantee an orgasm for yourself when you’ve got a partner who cares so little about your own pleasure. But Eddie was different. Eddie cared — so much so, that he’s gotten more orgasms out of you than you’ve gotten from him, which is something you’ve never said about anyone else you’ve been with.

It’s rare and unfamiliar, a bouquet of all things refreshing and terrifying and strange, tied together with a pretty little ribbon.

You know that you can make yourself come. It’ll just take way too long to actually be worthwhile and won’t be nearly as mind-blowing as you need it to be. You won’t be left with trembling thighs and nearly numb legs — just a pitiful excuse for an orgasm that you could get from any one of your exes with half as much work.

What you need is Eddie.

And you hate that. You hate how much you need him and you’re terrified of what that means.

As far as precedent goes, right when you start needing someone is usually when they start to leave. It’s like fucking clockwork most of the time — like everyone knows that you’re a ticking time bomb and eventually it gets too risky to stand too close to you.

You’ll just have to keep Eddie at arm's distance. So he won’t see the grenade that you are.

You pull your fingers out of your wanting cunt, still slick and throbbing with a need that you can’t give it, when the phone rings.

The high-pitched shrill in the quiet makes you tense like it’s the first time you’ve ever heard the damn thing. Your breath catches in your throat, first out of fright and then at the inclination of who waits for you on the other line.

Suddenly, you’re scrambling to collect yourself. As though there was any possibility that Eddie might be able to see you through the phone line.

You wipe your wet fingers haphazardly on the cotton of your underwear and sit up straighter from your ungracefully lazed position. Then you count to five — one mississippi… two mississippi… three — so Eddie won’t think you’re some kind of crazy person who doesn’t have anything better to do than wait for his call.

So he won’t know that’s exactly what you are.

You lift the ruby red rotary from its hook at your bedside table and stretch the corkscrew cord to press it to your ear. “…Hello?”

“Yeah, hi. I’d like to order a pizza. Half pepperoni, half hawaiian.”

You roll your eyes at his dumb joke, even though the familiarity of his voice makes you smile. It warms you like a home-cooked meal, like you were high-pitched and starving before and now you’re on the soothing comedown of finally being satiated.

“Yeah, sorry, we’re closed.”

“Then why’d you pick up the phone, huh?” he teases back. You swear you can hear the grin in his voice. You didn’t know a smile could be so audible. It makes you wonder if he can hear yours — if you’re doing a real shit job at pretending. You anxiously twirl the cord with the pointer finger of your free hand.

“Because I’ve been waiting for you to call me all night, dummy.”

Your answer is more honest than either of you were expecting.

Eddie’s sigh crackles through the shoddy reception. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. I’ve been working all night. I only got home, like, five minutes ago.”

You can hear the heavy exhaustion in his voice. “Rough day?”

“Kinda,” he answers with a shrug. You can hear the grating squeak of his mattress as he plops down onto his bed. “I dealt to one of Jason’s goons today… They always give me a hard time.”

“I’m sorry,” is all you can think to answer.

Eddie’s been the brunt of every joke since seventh grade — people made fun of too big clothes, his too wild hair, his too loud music. But he took it all in stride, laughing with everyone else before volleying a harsher joke back in response. You almost started to think that he liked it. That, somewhere deep down, he was fond of all the attention he got from people who supposedly couldn’t stand him.

But it hurts to know that it hurts him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not like you did anything,” he assures with a soft laugh. He makes the bold decision to be honest then, too. “You, uh… You made my day a whole lot better, actually.”

You don’t know if he’s talking about the brief fling in the woods or the phone call you’re sharing now or if you particularly care either way. Your heart flutters like it’s been kissed by the wings of a butterfly.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean… I don’t know— I couldn’t stop thinking about you, you know. And, knowing that I was gonna get to talk to you again kinda got me through the day, I guess… And, yes, I am fully aware of how lame that sounds, but—”

You don’t get to hear the rest of his excuse, of why what he just told you totally isn’t lame, because you’re covering the receiver with your palm and turning to squeal into your pillow. A far more pathetic sight, in your humble opinion.

There hasn’t been a more fulfilling feeling than this one, to know that he’s been feeling the same way you’ve been feeling about him this whole time. It’s better than all the orgasms he could give you combined, to be loved so wholly.

“…You okay?” you hear his muffled voice ask after you’ve gone suddenly AWOL.

You press the phone back to your ear and nod like he can see you. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. The phone… fell— you said you just got home?”

“Uh, yeah. I met with Hellfire for a bit at school. We’re almost at the end of the Cult of Vecna, so they’re kinda on my ass about it. The little shits are obsessed.”

“Well, they should be. It’s a really good campaign, Eds.”

“Thanks to you,” he mutters. You can almost picture the glimmer in his button eyes and the shaky half-smirk he always looks at you with when he gets all shy.

“That was all you, Eddie Spaghetti,” you retort. “I still have no idea how you did it.”

“Did what?” he wonders, chuckling a bit at the nickname.

“Make something so beautiful out of thin air.”

Lying in the depths of his bedroom, blanketed by the darkness and bathing in streams of moonlight, Eddie feels his breath catch in his throat.

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have a joke to spew out on the spot. He’s speechless, just for a moment, a quick blink of a second, with nothing to say. Because, if he really thinks about it, that’s sort of what happened with you.

You were just his customer and he was just your dealer.

You were a loyal client and then a girl way out of his league that he developed a too big a crush on. Then you made him come in his underwear and washed the sticky stains out of the denim for him. Now you’re on the phone with him. You let him tell you all about his shitty day and apologize like you weren’t the only good thing about it — like you aren’t the only good thing, period.

It’s not the most cliche love story, nor is it the most beautiful, but it has his cynical little heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird.

Then, when all the mushy mess fades like fog, he finally thinks of something to say.

“It’s the witchcraft, sweetheart,” he shrugs to himself. “Didn’t you hear? I’m a devil-worshipping freak.”

“You know that’s not it, Eds,” you retort with the roll of your eyes.

You know that it’s hard, to be a metalhead from the wrong side of the tracks in the eighties — at the height of the Satanic Panic and all the delusional craze. That shit’s followed him since freshman year. Even still, it nips at his ankles like rabid dogs.

Maybe you were never naive or bored enough to believe all the rumors, but Eddie Munson was always more than that to you.

“No?”

“You can blame it on being a freak show all you want, but I know it’s because you’re one of the funniest, smartest, most creative guys I’ve ever met—”

“You must not know a ton of guys then, sweetheart,” he interjects playfully, like he couldn’t stand to hear you compliment him any longer. You’d give anything to see his blushing cheeks just now.

“…You’re kidding right?” you giggle in response.

“Sorry— that’s— I didn’t mean it like— It was— I was joking,” he stammers, frightened that he might’ve offended you in some way.

It only makes you laugh harder. Both of you know you lost count of all the guys you ‘know’ a long, long time ago. You do imagine it’s somewhere near ‘a ton’, though.

“I know, Eds,” you assure with a contented sigh. “I was just teasing.”

“Oh.”

“The slut and the freak… Who would’ve thought?” you wonder all dreamily, like it’s a fairytale as old as time itself. That’s what it feels like, sometimes.

Eddie isn’t sure what you mean — who would’ve thought you’d be friends? Two people caught in that in-between stage of platonic and romance that’s complete agony and total, total bliss? A couple of kids falling in love—

“It’s sort of kismet, huh?” he answers.

“I think so.”

“So, uh… What are you up to?” Eddie wonders then, equal parts curious and eager to keep the discussion going. He’s frightened any lapse in conversation is going to lead to saying goodbye.

He wants to stay on for hours, until both of you are fighting to stay awake, and then listen to the sound of your heavy breathing when you inevitably lose — like that isn’t the creepiest thing anyone’s ever wanted. He’ll fight Wayne about the bill if it comes to that, he doesn’t care, he just never wants to stop being this close to you.

“Do you want the real answer or the fake one?”

“Uh… Both?”

“Well, I’d say I was doing something super productive with my night, you know, catching up on all the boring adult shit, but then I’d be lying. And I don’t wanna lie to you, Eds,” you tell him with a teasing lilt playing at the edge of your voice.

Eddie swallows thickly, fearing he’d somehow been caught in his own lie — or rather, his half-truth. He moves on quickly, though not exactly full of grace. “Right. Yeah. Totally.”

“Honest answer is, that the only productive thing I’ve done tonight is shower, and now I’m in bed watching Fast Times and eating all the chocolate in my house, because I can’t cook for shit and I have nothing else better to do with my night,” you admit to him, picking at the thread of your comforter.

“Oh, don’t tell me I missed the ‘Moving in Stereo’ bit,” he agonizes.

“Just.”

“Well, correct me if I’m wrong, sweetheart, but it sounds like you’re having loads of fun tonight.”

“I’m having a lot more fun now,” you assure him.

“Glad I can be around to make you laugh,” he retorts like he’s not all too happy to do it.

“You’re a total comedian, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“If I’m the jester, you’re the queen, sweetheart,” he promises, a grin evident in his voice.

Your breath catches in your throat something fierce; you’re almost worried that he’s heard it. His words pierce your heart, a stroke of lightning or a blade of steel. He’s joking, but it’s so strangely profound, the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to you and it’s dripping in sarcasm.

It’s sort of Eddie’s love language, you’ve come to understand, to say something so sweet but coated in venom to make it sour again. It makes you feel special, loved, almost.

A fire builds behind your rib cage, sharp and distant and all-consuming.

“Are you alone, Eds?” you ask him suddenly.

The sudden curve ball in the conversation takes him by surprise. “Uh, yeah, Wayne’s at work right now… Why?”

“Because I want you to talk to me…”

“Oh?” is all he can say because isn’t that what he’s been doing this whole time?

“And I want you to say things that… maybe other people shouldn’t hear,” you explain slowly to him.

“…Oh.”

He’s heard about this only once before, the whole phone sex thing.

It was from Andy in the back of Ms. O’Donnell’s class a year or more ago, though Eddie never called him by that name. Andy, in all actuality, was Jason Carver’s right-hand man, and he meant that in every sense of the phrase. Eddie was more than convinced that the guy was so obsessed with the blonde haired, blue eyed douchebag that he was giving him handjobs on the regular.

But it seemed the dick brigade couldn’t function properly without their leader and Eddie had the misfortune of hearing all the mindless bullshit they were spewing behind him — basketball, parties, girls; in true white bread fashion.

His friends gathered around him like he was telling some sort of secret, though it was loud enough for anyone in a three foot radius to hear. Eddie, caught directly in the line of fire, heard all about Chrissy’s older sister, Wendy, who was two years older and off at college.

He’d gotten her number from some party he’d crashed. At least that’s how he told it, right before telling everyone that she swore like a sailor when she came and that she told him all the dirty things she wanted to do to him while she did.

“It was like her hand was on my dick, dude, I’m serious. That shit was crazy, bro,” he’d laughed after retelling the whole conversation in excruciating detail.

Eddie rolled his eyes to himself then, inwardly jealous that he’d never get to meet Wendy — or any other girl that would be willing to have phone sex with him, for that matter. His phone only ever rang for telemarketers or a rogue Dustin Henderson calling to annoy him.

But, here you are now, the most wanted girl in Hawkins, offering it to him on a silver platter. He wonders if you’ve done this before, surely you have — oh god, he thinks to himself, what if you’ve done this with Andy?

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you assure him after his unusually long silence. “I know you’re probably busy and tired and everything—”

“No! No, yeah, I— I want to. I totally want to.”

“Okay,” you nod. Petals of a flower begin to bloom in your chest as you lie back in bed, settling further into the mattress. The movie, already long forgotten, serves only as light and background noise. “So… What are you wearing, Eds?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” he laughs.

On the other side of Hawkins, in a trailer in the middle of nowhere, Eddie rises from where he’d originally flopped back onto his bed with the notion that it was going to be a semi-normal night. He props himself against his headboard. His fingers twitch at his thigh.

“Beat ya to it, Munson.”

“Well, I’ll have you know that it is very sexy, sweetheart. I’m wearing the same Hellfire shirt you saw me in, I don’t know, five hours ago — except now it’s got a rip in it because I totally ate ass on the way back to the van.”

He tells you this to make you laugh — it works — but he prays you don’t ask any questions. Because he got it while hurrying back to his van mere minutes after you’d left him, so hard he thought he was going to burst, with no more than seven minutes until his next client arrived.

Thankfully, he only needed three.

“I love that shirt,” you respond in place of saying what you really want to — ‘I love how that shirt looks on you’ — how it clings to his lean torso and reveals his midriff whenever he stretches his arms over his head.

“She’s a lit-tle worse for wear now, sweetheart,” he lilts.

“I’ll stitch it up for you.”

“And I’ve got on a pair of boxers that are so old they’re practically see through because I’m pretty sure they used to be Wayne’s back in… I don’t know… the eighteen-hundreds.”

Eddie was right. It was sexy, though, for the exact reason they weren’t supposed to be.

There was something so domestic about it all. You can picture him lying in his bed, in the most comfortable clothes he owns, in the one place he can feel at peace. Like a renaissance painting, something familiar and comforting and beautiful — fuck, you’d give anything to be next to him.

“…I think that means it’s your turn now, sweetheart,” he teases.

“Is it?” you mock in return.

“C’mon. Don’t leave me hangin’ over here.”

“It’s nothing, special,” you assure. Your eye flits down to peer at your own body — nothing special, indeed, you think to yourself. The lilac cotton set came from the grocery store downtown on the clearance rack you so often frequent. “I just have my underwear on. It’s very boring, I’m afraid.”

It’s not boring. Not to Eddie — the boy who prides himself on his insanely active imagination. He might not be able to pass english with his brain, but he can certainly create worlds with it, and it’s too easy for him to picture you. He imagines you, freshly showered, and smelling of the warm lavender-vanilla scent you always smell like, mostly bare and lazing upon a fluffy comforter.

He swallows thickly. “Oh, that’s— that’s really, uh— that’s really sexy.”

His thankful that you don’t seem to mind his poor excuse for dirty talk.

“It’s only because I was too lazy to get into actual pajamas.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Yeah?” you press, smiling to yourself and caging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Yeah.”

“Can I tell you a secret, Eds?” you wonder, made brave enough by his own admission.

“‘Course you can.”

“Before you called…”

“…Uh-huh?” he eggs on, intrigued at the way you trailed off, sounding suddenly shy.

“I was…” The thought of telling him what you were doing mere seconds before he called makes you nervous. It wasn’t like you were ashamed of touching yourself or anything, nor is the art of dirty talking lost on you, but something about Eddie makes you timid.

“You were… what, sweetheart?” he wonders gently, with a too audible grin.

“I was touching myself.”

That’s all you tell him. The words linger and hang in the air of your separate bedrooms and you cling to the silence — almost mortified and anticipating his reply. Eddie, meanwhile, feels like his tongue has swelled in his mouth and all the air has been punched out of his lungs.

“Oh...” he tries to respond without the breath to accurately do so. “…Yeah?”

“You know what Phoebe Cates does to me,” you try to joke.

His laughter crackles through the receiver. “Yeah. I kinda have her to thank for the other night, don’t I?”

“Give yourself some credit, Eds. The hottest guy in Hawkins was sitting right next to me, what was I supposed to do?”

“No way you think I’m the hottest guy in town,” he scoffs. “Everyone knows you’ve got a thing for pretty boys.”

“Pretty boys?” you echo with a giggle.

“Uh-huh. The Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington type, you know?”

“Well, I think you’re a hundred times prettier than he is.”

“Really?” he scoffs cynically, obviously not believing you.

“He wasn’t the one I was thinking about with my hand shoved down my panties,” you admit, immediately quelling his self-doubt. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Eddie clears his throat and then stammers, “I— I guess so— yeah.”

“Are you hard, Eds?” you ask in a breathy whisper.

And he just nods to himself at first, too stupid to answer audibly. He can feel himself stiffening in his boxers, only halfway hard now, but getting firmer by the second. Soon, he’ll be aching.

“Yeah…”

“Can you touch yourself for me?”

Eddie would rather take a bullet to the chest than say no to you — at least, he figures that’d probably hurt less — so he slips his fidgeting fingers through the band of his boxers and takes his warm, stiffening cock in his hand. He squeezes himself just enough to make his stomach tighten.

“Want you to touch yourself, too,” he admits, neither asking or demanding it, just telling you.

“Yeah?” you tease.

“Well, I think it’s only fair, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but notice how breathy he’s gotten — how it shakes on the inhale and hitches on the out. He’s got his hand shoved down his underwear and you’re jealous of the fingers that get to wrap themselves around his cock. You wish they were yours. Both of you will have to settle, it seems.

“Whatever you want, Eds,” you answer playfully.

You obediently slide your hand back into the warmth of your panties. Your fingers slot between your lips and collect the slick that had gathered there since before you’d even answered the phone. You bring it up to your clit, circling the pads of your fingers there until you twitch, then dragging them down to press into your opening. They slip in with ease.

Both of you have turned into lovesick idiots, separated by so many miles, and missing the other most ardently. Lying in the depths of your bedrooms, basking in a velvet loneliness, building with a mutual pleasure with nothing but yearning hands and longing sighs.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut at the sounds of your low moans and fragile whimpers that crackle through the static — beautiful still, but certainly no match to the ones you were breathing in his ear just hours ago.

His lashes dance across his cheeks as he tries to remember how you’d felt against his fingers, soft like velvet and delicate like silk, weeping and pulsating with need.

He drags his hand from his boxers and lets the band snap against his pelvis. He spits into his palm and wets his cock with it, sighing as he tugs at himself without much friction.

“Are you wet, sweetheart?” he asks, though the words threaten to get stuck in his throat.

“Yeah,” you whisper back like it’s some kind of secret.

You work yourself open with your middle finger and slip your pointer in next to it without much trouble. Your walls flutter around them while you fight to find the spot the makes you keen. You’re only able to tease it, fingers not quite long enough to caress it completely. Your thumb keeps working at your clit, though, to make up for the lost pleasure.

“I’ve been wet since I left you,” you admit through labored breaths. “Haven’t been able to… to stop thinking about you, Eds.”

“Glad I’m not the only one whipped over here, sweetheart,” he manages a laugh.

“No one’s ever made me come that hard before. Not just with their fingers,” you tell him mindlessly, dumb on pleasure, as you feel yourself climbing that peak.

“Really?”

“Never,” you promise, then whine. “Doesn’t even feel as good now… Can’t get as deep as you can—”

Eddie hangs on your every word as he works his palm up and down his stiff cock, squeezing at the base and swiping his thumb over the head with an expert hand. His face scrunches as his stomach starts to tighten, he’s close to coming — too close for his liking. He doesn’t want this to be over so quickly.

“You’ve ruined every other guy for me, Eddie Munson,” you confess, more than pleased to hear how it makes him whine. It sounds like it comes from the depths of his chest, the way it crackles low and needy through the receiver.

“Good,” he grumbles through his pants after he’s gathered himself all over again. “Don’t want anyone else to have you, sweetheart.”

This time you’re the one letting out the most pathetic of whines. It makes a smile flicker at the corners of his lips.

“You like that?”

It sounds so dirty, but you can tell by the sincerity of his tone that it’s genuine. So you answer with a longing truthfulness, a delicate “yes”entwined with a yearning moan.

“You just wanna belong to me, don’t ya?”

Now, this is dirty talk. The teasing lilt of his tone — it’s almost degrading — and makes you clench around your fingers. “Yes, please,” you whine, all but pleading for him now.

Eddie’s close, so dreadfully close, with a pleasure so tangible he could taste it. Your words make his cock twitch in his hold as the fire builds in his belly.

Through your whole-hearted promises and wanting moans, he can hear the sound of your slick through the receiver. The static reception doesn’t do it justice, but the wet click of your fingers working you open was unmistakable.

A moan grumbles in his throat as he digs the crown of his head back into his pillow. “Holy fuck— I can hear you, baby.”

“I’m so wet for you, Eds,” you tell him through fragile slurs, like it wasn’t inherently obvious.

You were wrong before, about wanting to hide from him. You couldn’t conceal your need for Eddie if you tried. The honey you drip, all sweet and just for him, wouldn’t let you keep it a secret.

“I know, baby, I know,” he nearly coos. “Are you— fuck, please tell me you’re close?”

“Yes,” you promise in a whine. Your thumb presses harder into your clit. It makes your thighs tense until they’re shaking.

“You rubbing your clit for me, sweetheart?” he asks like he knows. “I know that’s what you like.”

You whimper, working at the spongy spot within you as your hips buck off the bed. “Yeah.”

“Keep rubbing yourself like that for me, okay? Want you to keep going until you come for me.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, it’ll come a lot quicker than he’s prepared for.

It’s too soft to be much of a demand, but you listen obediently anyway, rubbing at yourself though your sensitivity keeps building. It grows like a morning tide, rising and flowing like white waves on an ocean, stirring something fierce in the depths of your stomach.

“Eddie,” you sigh out his name, broken through staggered pants.

You hear his stuttering breaths, too. “Y—Yeah?”

“I’m about to come,” you promise through a whine when the familiar crescendo sends a shock through your body.

“O… Okay,” he responds, pathetically, then whines, even more so.

“Want you to come with me… Please…”

“Fuck— okay. Shit, sweetheart, I’m almost there.”

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him.

“Your pussy,” he answers without thinking — he’s not doing a whole lot of that anymore. “Wish I’d gotten to taste you earlier. Wanna feel you… fuck… Wanna feel you come on my tongue.”

“Holy shit, Eds,” you moan at his words, at the vivid picture they paint in your head.

“And you get so… God, you get so fucking wet. Just want you to drench me, baby.”

It feels good, to be complimented for something boys used to make fun of you for, to realize for the first time that’s it’s sexy — that you’re sexy — and that Eddie is more than happy to drown in you. The feeling almost rivals the impending orgasm that’s bound to hit you like a tidal wave.

“I’m thinking about how I coulda took you on that bench… Just, fucking, get on my knees for you. Shove my head between your legs. Hold your— shit, baby— hold your thighs open, keep you exactly where I want you,” he rambles but then cuts himself off to moan at his own words. “Goddamn, sweetheart. Wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

The moan you let out is pitiful. It leaves your mouth in the most delicate cry.

No picture has ever been clearer than the one of Eddie between your thighs, your hands knotted in his hair to move him to exactly where you need him most and forcing him there. You can feel his fingers digging into your hips, his rings pressed against your burning skin, and the way your legs tremble on either side of his head.

“Yeah. Keep— Keep doing that. Keep moaning for me,” Eddie tells you. “I’m about to… holy fuck, I’m about to come.”

“Wanna feel your tongue in me so bad, Eds,” you whimper, egged on by the moan he lets out. “Want your cock even more.”

That’s what does him in, the assurance — the promise — that you want him just as bad as he wants you.

He tightens his fist around his cock, achingly hard and raging a crimson at the tip, trying to imitate the way you’d feel around him. It’s not all that close, not nearly as wet as the honey you’d be dripping for him, but his imagination does the rest of the work for him.

All at once, you’re on top of him, riding him for all he’s worth, your pussy threatening to swallow him whole. You’ve drenched him, just like he’d begged for, and that wet schlick noise still echoing from the receiver is the evidence of each of your assured thrusts over top of him.

You’re still pleading for him anyway — for more, for his tongue, for his cock — and he wants so desperately to give everything to you.

“Oh god, baby—” he sputters. He grips the phone in a white-knuckled, fist trembling. “Oh, fuck, I’m coming, baby.”

“Please, Eddie. Please come for me,” you plead over the low sounds of the forgotten film playing across the room and all the dirty wet sounds your pussy makes against your fingers. You sound like you need it, like you want his orgasm more than your own.

“Want you to come with me… Can you— Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Please?” It’s not dirty talk anymore. He’s actually fucking begging you and doesn’t feel the least bit ashamed to do so.

He wants to hear all the pretty noises you make when you come — that initial cry that stems from the depths of your soul, the high-pitched whimpers that come when the sensitivity builds, and the whines that leave you when it ebbs.

He wants to hear it over and over and over again, like a worn cassette, and play it until the tape spins out.

“Yes…” you promise through a set of stuttering breaths.

There’s no talking when either of you come. Eddie’s long forgotten to talk you through it, but you would barely hear him if he had. The phone slips out of your hand when your grip slackens and it falls to the pillow beside your head.

You chase your orgasm full throttle, working through the crescendo and the strikes of lightning, focusing only on his muffled moaning and the pretty sounds he makes as he comes.

The breath of your name whimpered through a tight throat is what does it for you. Your body has hardly any time to warn you before you’re gushing all over your fingers, twitching every time the pad of your thumb rubs over clit.

That cry, the one you always let out as you come — all wet and full of need — makes Eddie orgasm right alongside you.

He swipes his thumb over his head again, collecting the pearls of precum gathering there and sliding them down the base to squeeze himself there like he’d been doing this whole time. He clutches harder this time, imagines it's your cunt locking him in a vice-like grip, and whines in his throat when he comes.

Several loads of it spill onto his cotton boxers, most of it gathering along the side of his hand and dripping down his knuckles. His breath staggers as he works himself through his high, praising you through the phone like you’re the one who brought him to it.

“Fuck, baby… You’re so good… So fucking good.”

You’ve long settled from your own orgasm, still tingly and numb in some places, but not as gone as you had been just moments before. You still float on a cloud, getting lost as you stare through your window at the half-hidden stars sprinkling the night sky and feeling as though you could reach out and touch them.

You can feel the satin moonlight bathing you, and the jittery static of the neon of the television screen. You can feel everything and somehow nothing at all.

“I don’t know how you do it, Eds,” you confess, hardly thinking about the words spilling from your mouth when you lazily bring the phone to your ear again.

“Do what, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know… You always make me feel good. Even when you’re not here… Even when we’re not getting each other off.”

“I feel the same way,” he promises you, all mushy, even though he feels like a slob for wiping his hand off on his discarded jeans on his bed. “Just… wish you were here.”

“I wish I was there, too… Wish I could clean you up.”

Eddie’s eyes shut tight as his head tilts back to his pillow at the thought. “Fuck… You’re gonna make me hard again, sweetheart.”

You perk up suddenly as an idea sprouts like a flower in your head. A smile blooms on your lips, and you rise up onto your elbows, glowing with an unanticipated excitement. “How long would it take you to get ready?”

“…Get ready?” he echoes.

“Yeah,” is all you say.

“I mean, I— I don’t know. I figure if I put on some new underwear and a fresh pair of pants, I’ll be good as new... Why?”

“You wanna do something?”

“Yeah. Sure. Anything,” he answers clumsily in place of saying, ‘Anything to not have to be without you.’

“I wanna go to Skull Rock.”

“Skull Rock?” he repeats.

Legend has it, you and Steve made that place a local landmark. People have always said that Hopper caught the both of you one too many times up at Lover’s Lake and the Quarry, that you needed a more hidden place to fuck. So you’d stumbled around in the middle of the woods until you found a place the chief wouldn’t think to look for you.

You’d certainly found it. Then every other horny high schooler did too.

It’s the place you go to fuck, the most private place in all of Hawkins — hell, maybe even Indiana entirely for teenagers who can’t get the house to themselves. And as appealing as it sounds, to take you beneath a sky of twinkling stars, Eddie doesn’t want his first time with you to be on dirt or in the middle of the woods. That’s how all the horror movies start, don’t they?

So, needless to say, your answer takes him by surprise.

“Yeah! You can see all the stars really good from there. It’s too hard to see them so close to town.”

Eddie’s heart swells all at once at how sweet you are, like sugar poured directly onto his tongue. You’re not eager to be without him either, it seems, and that thought is as gratifying as it is thrilling.

You’re an adventure he’s about to go on, without a map or a way out, a journey he’s happy to go into blind as long as you’re holding his hand the entire way through it.

It breaks his heart to hang up the phone. He practically begs you to do it for him, and it makes you laugh — a kind giggle entwined with a tease ‘you’re such a baby.’ It rings in his ears long after the receiver clicks.

Most of all, he hates all the stoplights that separate your place from his. He hadn’t known where you lived before now, not until you uttered it over the phone. He makes a mental note to figure out a quicker way, somewhere through the winding back roads that his old van can speed through to make the distance less daunting.

He pulls into your apartment complex, a quaint two-story thing on the quieter side of town, where the woods are plentiful and the street lamps far fewer. He turns his radio down out of respect for all your neighbors that he’s sure he’ll never meet and spies you through the neon orange porch lights. You shut and lock your door in quick succession, then scurry across the way to meet him.

Eddie leans over to unlock the passenger side door for you, already beaming, and finds you’re smiling too when you climb in next to him. The grin you shoot his way outshines the night sky and makes a bright yellow sun of the girl sitting in his passenger seat.

“Hi,” you’d greeted him, all shy like you didn’t just make him come all over his hand thirty minutes ago.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he volleys back like he always does, with that big ol’ smirk and teasing lilt as he cock his head to the side — using his playfulness to cover up the bashful mess you so easily reduce him too.

Neither of you had gotten particularly dressed up to see each other. All he did was put on fresh under and pajama pants. You succumbed to a smilier laziness it seems, haphazardly brushing through your half-damp hair, throwing on a too big t-shirt, and calling it a day.

The cotton hangs low at your chest, stretched out and obviously well-loved. It falls well past your thigh, though you spend much of the drive anxiously tugging it down.

It makes him wonder what you’re wearing beneath it. If you’ve tugged on a pair of shorts or if you’re in the bra and (undoubtedly wet) underwear you’d told him you were wearing over the phone.

Eddie winds himself up all over again while you sift through the flimsy case of endless cassettes he keeps tucked in the glove compartment that never quite shuts all the way.

“How do you now have any ABBA tapes?” you wonder like it’s baffling, with an Iron Maiden tape in one hand and Cinderella in the other. Metallica plays lowly, nearly inaudibly, from the stereo.

Eddie laughs and darts his eyes from the darkened back roads to look at you, all smiley and bathed in moonlight, before turning back to the road again. “Uh, because I’m not a thirty-year-old woman. That’s the shit moms listen to.”

“Moms and hot girls,” you retort jokingly.

“Right, moms and hot girls listen to ABBA — of which, I am neither, sweetheart. Sorry to be the one to break it to you… Besides, it’s not like you walk around listening to, fucking, I don’t know— Van Halen or whatever.”

“Hey. I listen to Van Halen,” you shoot back.

He scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s got what it takes!” you sing suddenly, not quite catching the rhythm of the song, but smiling anyway as you reach for his forearm resting on the center console. “So tell me why can’t this be love!”

“Oh, my god— that’s literally their worst song,” Eddie chuckles through the widest grin you’ve ever seen from him.

It makes you smile big too, looking like an idiot who’s totally head over heels for the boy next to her. And of that, you’re happily guilty of.

“Not true,” you shake your head defiantly. “I love that song.”

“So that means it has to be good, right?” he retorts playfully, shooting you a teasing look, though his beam is more than sincere.

“Obviously,” you answer with a scoff that makes Eddie roll his eyes.

He knows he’s going to start to love it, though, if only because it’s the only Van Halen song you halfway know.

He’s going to hear that song on the radio and he’s going to want to turn it, but he’s going to remember this moment now — the one with you reaching for him while you sing the lyrics to a song he can’t stand, sitting pretty in his passenger seat, while the moonlight blanches your smile and the bare skin of your thighs.

Eddie Munson is going to love that goddamn song for the rest of his life.

He parks as close as he can to Skull Rock, knowing his van can’t work its way that far into the woods. The two of you are forced to walk the rest of the way, not exactly minding it, though Eddie’s incessantly worried you’re going to get cold.

He’s already forced his jacket upon you, which you took with little fight. It warmed you almost immediately — with his cozy heat and musky cologne.

You make mindless conversation the entire way there, about music and then about his band and then what animal you’d want to be in your band if that were the least bit possible. Eddie chooses a sheep without any hesitation, though you’re confident that a penguin would be far cooler.

You keep a careful distance between you, at first, like both of you are too scared to initiate the first move. That is, until you trip over a raised branch and nearly eat ass on the forest floor. Then Eddie’s holding your hand the entire way, keeping you close.

“If you wanted me to hold your hand, you coulda just said so, you know?” he jokes. “Didn’t have to go through all the dramatics, sweetheart.”

You try and yank your hand out of his grip in protest then, but he doesn’t let you. In fact, he pulls you closer and twirls you into a bear hug that you happily relax into.

He feels your sigh fan against his collarbone as you rest your head at the nape of his neck, his arms wrap around your shoulders as yours settle at his waist. He rocks you back in forth, in a moment that’s too almost sweet to make fun of.

Eddie finds a way, of course, “See?” he singsongs. “I’ll hug you like this all the time, if you want. You don’t have to almost kill yourself to get my attention, babe.”

“All I did was trip,” you laugh at his theatrics.

“Death by tree root… What a gnarly way to go.”

He holds your hand the entire way to Skull Rock.

He doesn’t let you go once, not until you’re ascending the large boulders to plant yourselves at the very peak of them. He’s grabbing you again once you settle, though, and the two of you just sit there, for several long moments, just gaping at the stars that dance with life above you. They sprinkle an infinite void with enough light that manages to touch you, trillions of miles away.

There’s a subtle beauty in that Eddie never would’ve appreciated before now.

“Shit, babe,” he breathes through a whimsical existential dread. “You were right. The stars are really fucking pretty out here.”

You love how much he loves this, to come to Skull Rock with you and count the stars. Any other guy would’ve had their tongue down your throat by now, stuffing your hand down their unbuttoned jeans.

But not Eddie.

He just holds your hand because he likes the feeling of his fingers entwined with yours, grasping tightly onto you while he gazes at an infinite universe — like you might float off right along with it.

His neck is stretched to gape at the night sky. You catch his adam’s apple bobbing every time he swallows. You want so desperately to kiss his milky white skin and sprinkle blotchy red bruises there.

His curly locks fall over his shoulders. He shakes his head to get his bangs out of his eyes while the chocolate buttons of them dart around the endless void.

He’s more beautiful than every star in the sky combined. You can’t be sure of how many that is, of course, but it’s a whole bunch if you had to guess. It makes sense, though, for the prettiest boy in the whole damn galaxy.

“Told ya,” you answer with a smile, leaning over to nudge his shoulder with yours. “You come out here often?”

You’re asking if he takes girls here and he knows it, but it’s not like you’re being inconspicuous about the whole thing. Eddie gauges it almost immediately, the subtle jealousy hinting at your tone — something no one else would’ve caught — and he squeezes your hand in reassurance.

He shakes his head. “No… Never.”

“Never?” you press with raised brows, like his answer shocks you.

“Ever. It’s not really my scene, I guess… But what about you, sweetheart? Never seen you around these parts before.”

You knock his shoulder again, harder this time. “Shut up. You already know the answer to that.”

“Yeah…” he nods to himself, eyes darting back and forth as he reminisces on something. “You and Harrington, you and Hargrove. Hell, I think I heard about you and Jason one time—”

“That was a long time ago,” you argue. “Before I even knew you, okay?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs in defense. “You totally have a thing for pretty boys, sweetheart.”

“I never said I didn’t, Eds. Just that you were pretty, too.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs and rolls his eyes like he isn’t glowing red beneath the moonlight.

“You’re better than all three of them, Eds,” you confess with a sudden softness that catches his attention almost immediately. He turns his attention from the sky to look at you properly again. His breath catches at you sad you look — all beautiful and coated in shades of blue.

“…Yeah?”

You nod and drag his hand into your lap to fidget with his fingers. You trace the skeleton heart on his middle finger, subverting all your attention there because it’s easier than having to look at him now. “Better than all of them combined— not even just them, you know? Out of everyone. No one’s ever been this nice to be before.”

“Me neither, sweetheart,” he confesses with a morose grin. “The freak of Hawkins High attracts a lot of assholes, believe it or not.”

“Is it bad?” you wonder cautiously, like you’re scared to hear the answer. In some ways, you are.

You hadn’t known him in high school, not really. For obvious reasons, you ran in very different circles. You never even had classes together. There was never any excuse to be close to each other before now, never a reason to become friends. So you didn’t.

You grew to know him as a freak, and he knew you as the town slut. Then somewhere down the line, he became your dealer and now… here you were.

But you’ve graduated now and he’s still army crawling towards a diploma. You couldn’t save him from the hell of Hawkins High even if you wanted to.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he shrugs. “Jason and the dick brigade just wanna make my life hell, that’s all.”

“I hope they aren’t,” you respond shyly.

Eddie scoffs then shoots you a smile. “Oh, of course not. Look at me. I’m at Skull Rock with the most wanted girl in Hawkins. I’m living the dream, sweetheart.”

“So you don’t care?” you wonder, peering at him through your lashes, as you twist the silver cross around his finger.

“Care about what?”

“That I’m a slut,” you laugh like it’s obvious.

Eddie doesn’t think it’s all that funny. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s not like it isn’t true, Eds,” you retort with a trembling smile. “I mean, that’s literally what people call me — most people don’t even care to call me by my real name anymore.”

“I don’t care,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t care about that. I don’t give a shit about what people say about you. If everyone cared about what everyone said about everyone, neither of us would be here right now… Because you’d think I was some devil-worshipping freak and I’d think you were too busy getting it on with Chief Hopper.”

You screw your face up immediately at the thought. The mere idea was repulsive. The asshole was practically your father these days. Jim Hopper was in that small bunch of available people you would never fuck, and happily so.

“I’d never stoop that low,” you joke.

“I like you, how you are, right now,” Eddie promises. “Don’t want you to change a damn thing.”

His brown eyes twinkle with a sincerity that rivals the stars above you. All of a sudden, you don’t care about a bunch of heavenly bodies light years away from you — you care about this man, the one sitting beside you now, holding your hand even though your palms have gone all sweaty.

It’s too good to be true — the way you looks at you, the way he talks to you, the way he treats you. You’re scared that it’s a dream, that you’ll wake up and find that none of this was ever real. Or worse, that he was, and that he just didn’t care about you the way you cared about him.

It’s almost irrational. Almost.

But it’s happened before.

And it’s left you a scarred and mangled mess.

You shake your head to yourself and scrunch your face as you turn to look him. “Have you ever done this before, Eddie?”

“Don’t what?” he wonders with furrowed brows.

“I don’t know…” you shrug. ��Any of this? With anyone else?”

He’s grateful he doesn’t have to lie. Or tell some clumsy half-truth for the sake of saving his own skin. He realizes tonight is perhaps the most honest he’s ever been with you, baring his pale soul beneath a silver moonlight.

“Never,” he answers, unwavering, with a firm shake of his head.

“Really?”

“Really,” he nods, then swallows thickly at a gut-wrenching realization. “I’ve never felt his way about anyone else before.’

“Me neither,” you promise.

It’s a tad more meaningful coming from you than from a boy who’s never had someone to love and to love him back.

You’re experienced, you’ve found what you like and what you don’t like. You’ve been with guys who have given you the world and guys that have ended yours altogether. And out of all of them — all of the assholes in Hawkins you could’ve picked — you’ve chosen the freak.

You want him.

You want Eddie.

The revelation makes him grin. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart, Eddie Spaghetti.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #virgin!eddie munson x reader #virgin!eddie munson

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writingwithciara · 5 months

Text

Look At Her- Matt Sturniolo

summary: y/n is nick’s best friend & chris has been in love with her for years. he gets distracted whenever she walks into a room. matt is the only one who doesn’t love her. however, that changes one day when they’re filming a video

word count: 5.6k

pairing: matt sturniolo x reader (romantic), nick sturniolo x best friend reader, chris sturniolo x reader (platonic)

notes/content: saw a post from @mattitties and got an idea for a fic, but I kind of switched the pov around a little bit. little bit of an argument somewhere near the middle, kind of angsty at parts, happy ending

masterlist

“Nicolas!” y/n didn’t even bother to knock as he entered Nick’s bedroom. The eldest triplet threw his phone down on his bed and held his chest.

“Jesus, y/n. You’re going to give me a heart attack if you keep doing that.”

“I do this every single time I come over. You should expect it by now.” She chuckled and sat on the edge of his bed.

“You’re right.” He smiled and joined her. “So, what’s up? What do you want?”

“What? Can’t a girl come see the best friend she missed?”

“You saw me last night.” Nick looked at her and shook his head. “What do you want?”

“I’m bored and needed some Nicolas time.”

“Who let you in the house?”

“I let myself in. Isn’t that why you guys gave me a key?” she smiled playfully.

“Matt gave you a key for emergencies, y/n.” Nick laughed again and stood up. “Wanna film a video with us tomorrow?”

“Always.” y/n sat up straight and smiled. “What’s it going to be?”

“It’s a surprise.” Nick smirked, piquing y/n’s interest more. “But, um, dress code is casual so just wear whatever. It’s going to be so fun.”

“Whatever you say, Nick.” y/n followed her best friend out of his room and to the kitchen where Matt and Chris were talking. Matt continued speaking, even when Chris stopped.

“Chris, what is going on with you? Are you even listening?” Matt asked.

“Of course, Nick.” Chris looked over to where y/n and Nick were sitting on the couch.

“What? I’m Matt, dumbass.”

“What? Oh, sorry.” Chris snapped out of his daze and looked over at his brother. “I apologize for not listening. Y/n walked by and I just….there’s something about her that I can’t get out of my head.”

“I still don’t see it.” Matt shook his head and followed Chris’ gaze. “She’s nice and I’m sure she’s someone’s type, just not mine.”

“What? She’s outstanding!” Chris gasped and looked at Matt. “I can’t believe you don’t like her.”

“I like her, just not the way that you do.” Matt patted his brother on the shoulder and went to the living room. Chris took a minute to compose himself before joining the trio in the living room. Y/n smiled and made room for him next to her on the couch.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Christopher.”

“Yes it is.” Chris sat down and mentally beat himself up for the awkwardness he exhibited. But when y/n smiled at him again, he felt like himself. Everything was normal.

“We’re filming a video tomorrow and y/n is gonna be joining us.”

“What’s the video this time?” Matt asked. Chris tried to pay attention to the conversation but after he heard that y/n would be joining them, he zoned out and focused all his attention on her. She didn’t notice and kept up the conversation with his brothers.

He couldn’t help but think of everything he wanted in his future and how badly he wanted her to be a part of it.

Later that night, y/n was chilling in Nick’s room alone when Chris walked in.

“Hey Nick, I was wondering if-“ he paused when he saw it was only y/n there. “Oh, hey.”

“Hey, Christopher.” She smiled. “What’s up?”

“Well, I was just wondering if you were staying here tonight so you don’t have travel back again in the morning.”

“I actually hadn’t even thought about that. But now that you mention it, maybe I should stay. I’m sure Nick won’t mind sharing his bed for one night.”

“Well, if he does mind, you can have my bed.” He smiled softly.

“I appreciate the gesture but I couldn’t do that.”

“If it makes you feel better, I slept in my bed last night and you know I don’t do that two nights in a row.”

“That’s a good point.” She set her phone down and gave him her full attention. “Who’s the unlucky one tonight?”

“I was thinking of sleeping in the living room but now I’m thinking it’s gonna be Matt.”

“Good choice. But if I’m sleeping in your room, you should sleep in here with Nick.”

“He would hate that.” Chris chuckled when an idea came into his head. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do then.”

“Sounds like a plan.” y/n smiled and grabbed her phone and charger.

“Alright, y/n. I got all your favorite snacks. Time for movie night.” Nick walked back into the room and set the food on the bed. When he noticed Chris standing in the room, he looked between them. “Oh. Did I just ruin a moment?”

“No, of course not.” y/n laughed and looked at Nick apologetically.

“Well then why is Chris in my room?”

“Hey, roomie. Guess who’s staying in here tonight?” Chris smirked. Nick gasped and looked at y/n.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Nick tried to be upset but he secretly loved it when other people slept in his room.

“I’m staying over tonight, for convenience & Chris offered me his bed for the night.”

“What? But he-“

“Is sleeping in here like we planned, Nicolas.” Chris shot his brother a look and Nick just nodded.

“Oh, of course. Completely forgot. Silly me.” Nick looked at the snacks on his bed. “Can you at least stay for a movie, y/n?”

“I would love to but I’m really tired and want to be rested for tomorrow’s video. Goodnight guys.” y/n waved and headed to Chris’ bedroom.

“Okay, why aren’t you sleeping in your room tonight?” Nick sat on his bed and raised his eyebrow. “Wait a second. You like her, don’t you? Are you jealous that she would’ve been sleeping in here with me?”

“What? Of course not. She’s my best friend.”

“Actually, Christopher, she is MY best friend. You’re just in love with her.”

“That’s what I meant.” Chris shook his head and looked back over at Nick. “Whatever. Let’s just go to bed so we can be well rested for the video.”

“You mean well rested for y/n?” Nick smirked and put his phone on the charger. Chris climbed into the other side of the bed and smacked his brother. “Just shut up and go to sleep.”

Later that night, y/n was wide awake. She felt weird sleeping in a bed that wasn’t Nick’s, even if it happened to be Chris’ bed. As close as she was to him, it was nowhere near as close as she had always been with Nick. And she knew he had a crush on her, whether he cared to admit it or not, but she could never bring herself to reciprocate those feelings. Not when she was just starting to realize how she had been feeling about Matt.

Something about him had drawn her attention but she didn’t understand why. He was moody 90% of the time she was around and he made her feel like sometimes she just didn’t matter to the triplets. Chris was the complete opposite of Matt and treated y/n like she was the most important person on the planet.

So why didn’t she have the same feelings for him that he did for her?

A sound from the kitchen startled her before she could argue with herself further and she decided, against her better judgement, to go investigate. She walked out to the kitchen and noticed the fridge was open but nobody was around. Grabbing the pan off the counter, she slowly approached the refrigerator. Matt popped up quickly and she nearly had a heart attack. She considered it karma for scaring Nick.

“Jesus, what are you trying to do? Beat me to death with a frying pan?”

“Me? What are you doing popping up like that? You nearly gave me a heart attack, Matthew.”

“Okay well in my defense, I didn’t know you were staying the night, nor did I intend to drop this bottle of ketchup.”

“The fact that you’re still holding the bottle is hilarious.” As she laughed, Matt tossed the bottle back into the fridge with a disgusted look on his face.

“It’s really not funny at all.” Matt tried to act serious but he couldn’t do it. He also began to laugh along with y/n. As their laughter died down, he looked at her for a moment and the way she looked at him, made him feel seen. “So, who’s room are you sleeping in?”

“The couch, actually.”

“What? Why would Nick make you sleep on the couch?“ Matt was about to offer her his bed instead but stopped when he saw her smile.

“Relax, Matthew. I’m actually sleeping in Chris’ room tonight.”

“Oh.” He looked at her and realization hit him. “Oh!”

“Not like that, jackass. He’s sleeping in Nick’s room tonight. He offered me his bed because he doesn’t sleep in the same place 2 nights in a row.”

“That’s not even true anymore because he actually slept in Nick’s room last night.”

“Then why would he offer his bed up to me?” she shook her head and thought for a moment. “Wait, he’s got a crush on me. How could I forget?”

“As if it wasn’t blatantly obvious.” Matt smirked. “Do you think he knows that you know?”

“No and let’s keep it that way until I can figure out how to let him down gently. He deserves that much.”

“Yeah I guess so.” He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and peeled the label off. “So, why are you up so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep. It felt weird being in someone else’s bed.”

“Yeah I get that feeling whenever the boys and I have a sleepover in one of our rooms.” He looked at her. “So, was it weird sleeping in Jack’s bed when you guys dated?”

“Never actually slept in his bed, Matt.”

“If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about, that’s gross.” He began to laugh quietly. “But you guys dated for like 2 years. You’re telling me you never slept at his place?”

“He was always over at my place. And he was very understanding of the whole thing too.”

“Well that’s good that you had someone like that.” Matt offered her a small smile and started heading back towards his room. “I hope you can get at least a little bit of sleep. I know what Nick wants to film tomorrow and you’ll want as much energy as possible for it.”

“Thanks, Matt. Good night.” y/n smiled to herself and returned to Chris’ room. Sleep came easily for her after that conversation with Matt.

The next morning, y/n was woken up by a soft knock on the door. She slowly rolled off the bed and answered it, not surprised to see Chris standing there.

“You didn’t have to knock, Chris.”

“I know but I figured you’d still be sleeping and I didn’t want to interrupt your beauty sleep. N-not that you need it anyway.” He began stumbling over his words and his cheeks felt like they were on fire.

“Thanks, Christopher.” y/n giggled a little and it made his heart soar. “I’ll be out in a few minutes. Just gotta get changed out of this.” She gestured to the outfit she had changed into last night. Chris looked down and noticed it was one of his favorite shirts.

“That my shirt?”

“Yeah. I hope you don’t mind but I didn’t plan on staying the night so I didn’t bring anything to sleep in. And I know I have clothes in Nick’s room but by the time I got there, you guys were already asleep so I just….decided to borrow one of your shirts instead. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No. Not at all.” He smiled. “It looks great on you, by the way.”

“Thanks.” The compliment caused her to blush and she turned away. “Just give me a few, okay?”

“We’ll be waiting patiently.” He nodded and walked out to the kitchen. “She’ll be ready in 5.”

“What’s got you so smiley today, Chris?” Matt asked.

“She slept in my shirt.” Chris couldn’t help the way his smile grew and didn’t care that his brothers were about to tease him. He knew he was in love.

“That’s cute. Our little Christopher has a crush.”

“No. He’s in love.” Nick corrected. “And I don’t blame him. She’s gorgeous and if I was straight, I’d be in love with her too.”

“I still don’t see it.” Matt chuckled and shook his head.

“How can you not, Matthew?” Chris was still shocked, but also a little relieved that Matt wasn’t into y/n. It meant he might finally have a shot with a girl for once in their lives.

“If anything, I think of her as a sister.”

“Are you sure your eyesight is perfect? Because you’re not making any sense right now.” Nick rolled his eyes at his brother then looked over towards the hallway when he heard the bedroom door shut.

“Okay. I’m ready to film. What are we doing today?” she stopped in the entryway and the boys looked up at her. She was wearing her jeans paired with one of Matt’s sweaters. It wasn’t unusual for her to wear the triplets clothes but this was the first time she was actually wearing something of Matt’s. She had all of their attention, specifically because of that. “What are you guys staring at?”

“Pardon our staring. It’s just that you’re wearing Matt’s sweater.” Nick walked over to her and grabbed her hand. “Let’s get ready to film.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Matt. Do you want me to take it off?”

“No. It’s fine, honestly.” He had to take a moment to swallow his drink. It also stopped him from saying something awkward and weird. “Let’s get to filming, shall we?”

“We shall.” Nick guided y/n over to the kitchen counter and handed her a blindfold. “Congratulations. You get to be blind for the video.”

“That doesn’t sound as fun as you promised me yesterday.” She pouted and looked at the three boys in front of her.

“Well, we figured with you being the smartest out of all of us, we should let you have the ability to hear and talk so we can get through this baking video with as little of a mess as possible.” Matt smiled and put the bandana across his mouth. Nick and Chris both put headphones on and Matt handed y/n the cake mix.

She struggled with opening it so Matt did it for her. Chris noticed how close Matt was standing and started to get jealous. He saw y/n’s lips move and she looked towards Nick or where she assumed he was. She started to speak again but neither of them could hear anything so Matt had to ask them without saying a word.

“DUDE I’VE NEVER BEEN DEAF BEFORE! THIS IS FUN!” chris shouted, louder than expected, causing y/n to jump a little closer to Matt. He grabbed her arm gently and continued helping her in any way he could. She mumbled a ‘thank you’ to whoever was helping her. Chris watched this and was suddenly made aware of how much it actually sucked to not be able to hear her voice.

After a painstakingly long hour, they had put the cake in the oven and removed their restrictions. Y/n was washing her hands when Chris approached her.

“You know, it sucked not being able to hear you the whole time.”

“Oh, did it?” she smiled and turned to him. “I kinda wish I had been deaf so I wouldn’t have had to listen to you and Nick butcher a Justin Bieber song.”

“Hey, I think we slayed that song.” Chris replied defensively.

“I disagree. I could hear the whole thing as well and you guys did not sound great. Wouldn’t sign up for karaoke any time soon.” Matt joked, earning a slap from his younger brother. Y/n laughed and it made Chris upset that she laughed at Matt’s joke. Chris turned to Nick with a sad look on his face. Matt nodded his head towards the couch and y/n followed him over there. As they talked, Chris could feel himself getting mad. Matt knew how he felt about her and he didn’t like that they were suddenly so close.

Over on the couch, y/n kept glancing up towards where Nick and Chris were talking. With a heavy sigh, she turned back to face Matt.

“How am I supposed to let him down easy? He’s the sweetest, Matt.”

“He truly can be.” Matt looked over towards the kitchen and noticed that Chris was gone. “You might just want to come right out and tell him. It’ll probably be easiest.”

“Yeah sure. Good idea. I’ll talk to you later.” y/n gave Matt one last look before heading to Chris’ bedroom. One knock and he opened the door.

“Oh, hey. What’s up?”

“Can we talk?” y/n pulled the sleeves of the sweater down to cover her hands. Chris opened his door more to let her in and as she sat down on his bed, he couldn’t help but think about the sweater. Matt’s sweater.

“What did you wanna talk about?”

“I know you have a crush on me.”

“Oh.” Chris chuckled and sat next to her. “And?”

“When I figured it out, I tried to get myself to feel the same way. I really tried to, but I’m sorry. I just don’t. I do love you, Chris. But you’re my best friend. You’re great in every way and I’m sure you’ll find a girl who will appreciate everything you do for her. You’re easy to love, don’t get me wrong. But for me, it’s just not in the way you want and for that, I am truly sorry.”

“I’m not going to lie and say that it’s alright and that I’m over it. But as long as I still have you in my life, I for sure will be fine. Eventually.” He looked at her and seeing the upset look on her face made his heart hurt. “I can’t make you love me the way you love Matt and I can get over it with some time.”

“I do not love Matt.” y/n shook her head. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Yes you do. You just don’t realize it yet. And that’s fine. You’ll get there. And maybe one day, you can find happiness with him.”

“Chris, I promise you that I do not love Matt. I don’t have feelings for anyone right now.” She looked at him and sighed. “Okay, maybe a little crush. But that’ll pass quickly. It’s not like it’s been rolling around in my head for years. It’s new. Really recent.”

“Well it’s all good anyway. Matt told me himself he didn’t see what I saw in you and he would probably never see you the way I see you.”

“Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?” he questioned right back.

“You’re kind of acting like a jerk right now, Chris & I don’t like it.” She stood up quickly and headed for the door. “You’re supposed to be the sweet triplet. What’s gotten into you?”

“The girl I’ve loved for years has feelings for someone who won’t like her back. It kinda sucks and it’s the kind of thing that can make anyone upset.”

“Chris, you better stop right there before you say something that’ll get rid of me for good.”

“You’re Nick’s best friend. You’ll always be around.”

“But I won’t talk to you. It was nice knowing you, Chris.” y/n rolled her eyes and walked out of the room. Nick saw her face and just let her leave. Matt knew what had happened and instantly felt bad.

Over the next few days, y/n spent very little time with the triplets and it really messed them up. Nick was missing his best friend, Matt missed having her around to make fun of Nick and Chris with him, and Chris felt like he was missing a part of him.

“Nick, can you please see if y/n will come over tonight? We can all have a movie night like we used to when we were younger.”

“She’s not going to agree to that. She’s really upset with you, Chris.” Matt answered for Nick.

“And you know this how?” Chris raised an eyebrow, instantly curious at his brothers sudden closeness to y/n.

“I’m talking to her right now. She said, and I quote, ‘tell chris he’s an asshole every chance you get. thanks matthew.’ Don’t hate me for relaying the message.”

“Do you think you could call her and let me apologize? She won’t answer my calls.”

“You gotta do this on your own.” Nick finally spoke up.

“Yeah. What happened anyway? I know the gist of it but I don’t know any details.”

“She told me she knew that I liked her and then she tried to let me down easy and I went into Asshole Mode. We got into an argument and then I said some stupid things and she got upset and left.”

“What were you arguing about?”

“I accused her of having a crush on you, which she initially denied but ended up admitting to. Then I told her that you didn’t see her the same way and never would.” He sighed when he realized how bad it sounded. “I need to go talk to her. She must be so heartbroken. Matt, can you drive me?”

“Sorry, dude. Like Nick said, you gotta do this on your own.” Matt placed his hand on Chris’ shoulder. “Besides, it’s not a far walk. You’ll have time to think about what you’re going to say on the way there.”

“Yeah I guess you’re right.” Chris then turned to Nick. “Want to come with me? I could use someone to practice on before I get there. And maybe she’ll answer her door if she sees you.”

“Okay. I’m only going because I miss my best friend and she won’t talk to me either.” Nick grabbed his phone and followed Chris out the door. Matt was alone for the first time in what felt like forever. However, that didn’t last long because 5 minutes later, there was a knock on the front door. Matt walked over to it slowly.

“I swear to god, if you idiots forgot your keys again, I’m going to laugh.” He opened the door and was shocked to see y/n standing before him. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

“I came to the realization that I shouldn’t have acted the way I did and I came to apologize to Chris.” y/n looked up at Matt when she heard him chuckle. “What’s so funny about that, Matthew?”

“Chris was feeling the same way so he and Nick are on their way to your place as we speak.” He smiled. “Do you want to come in and wait?”

“Yeah, thanks.” She stepped into the warm house and went straight to the living room. Matt followed and sat on the opposite end of the couch.

“How long have you been wearing that sweater?” matt looked at her and noticed she was still wearing the sweater of his that she borrowed.

“Oh, I wore it for 3 days then I washed it. Now I feel like it needs to be back in your possession. It is one of your favorites, if I’m not mistaken.” She went to take it off but Matt grabbed her wrist to stop her.

“No. It’s fine. It looks good on you. Better than it ever did on me.” He lightly chuckled. “Chris would kill me if he heard that.”

“Well, I’m not his girlfriend and I think the whole situation is resolved so technically, you can say whatever you want.”

“I think it’s best if I talked to Chris first. Just to make sure everything is fine between you two.”

“Matt, she wasn’t home. Do you know where- Y/N!” Nick shouted as he ran over to y/n and pulled her in for a hug. Chris walked in slowly behind Nick and didn’t look happy, until he looked up and saw y/n.

“Can we talk?” he nervously scratched the back of his neck and went to his room. Y/n looked back at Matt before following Chris into the bedroom. She sat on his bed while he paced back and forth. “Look, I need to apologize for how I acted last week. It was uncalled for and you can like whoever you want. I shouldn’t have tried to get your mind off of Matt. Honestly, I’m pretty sure he’s into you now. Maybe he does see what I see. Because he’d be an idiot not to.”

“Chris, you don’t need to apologize. I was out of line too and I should’ve thought of a better way to let you down gently. Although, I did mean what I said when I told you that you’re easy to love, Chris.” y/n looked up at Chris and smiled. “I missed being here and I missed seeing your face.”

“I missed you too.” He chuckled and pulled her into a hug. She gladly returned it. While they were having their moment, the door flew open and Nick was standing there.

“This is cute and everything but I want some time with my best friend. We went a whole week without spending any time together and there’s 3 movie nights we need to make up for.”

“Let’s go set up the living room like we used to and the 4 of us can sleep out in the living room.” Chris suggested, casting a glance down to y/n.

“I’m 100% in.” she squealed excitedly and ran to Matt’s room to convince him to join them. Chris and Nick shared a look and went to go set up.

“I’m going to go get some snacks from the store. Who wants to tag along?” Matt grabbed his keys and looked at the three of them.

“Y/n can go with you. She knows what I like.” Nick waved them off before either of them could protest.

The drive to the store was quiet but the journey inside was worse. It was as though the moment they shared an hour earlier was completely forgotten. By the time they returned to the living room, Nick and Chris had everything set up.

“Okay, we’re each going to pick a movie and we’re going to watch them all. No falling asleep, got it?”

“Yeah Chris.” y/n teased.

“Hey, I can stay awake.”

“Only if it’s the movie you pick.” Nick smiled. “Which is why your movie will be last tonight.”

“No fair.” Chris tried to be upset but it was hard when he was surrounded by 3 people he loved. The 3 who could make him smile no matter what.

By the end of the 2nd movie, Nick had passed out. Chris suggested that they draw on his face but y/n shot that idea down quickly.

“Before we start my movie, I’m going to go change into some pajamas so I’m a little more comfortable.” y/n headed to Nick’s room, leaving Matt and Chris alone.

“You know, if you’re into y/n, I say go for it.” Chris looked down at the candy on his lap, almost like he wasn’t entirely sure of what he just said.

“Thanks but I’m really not into her like that. Well, actually, let’s just say things certainly shifted for me the day we filmed that baking video. It’s hard not to find a girl attractive when she’s wearing your clothes.”

“Unless you’re Nick.” Chris chuckled. “I’m serious though. She really does like you, Matt. I don’t think it’s just a crush like she claims. I also don’t believe it’s to the same level I was at for her, but she definitely has some feelings for you. If you really don’t like her, please let her down gently. She deserves only kindness given back to her.”

“I guess that’s what I’ll do then. Let her down gently.” Matt sighed and waited to start the next movie. Y/n walked out a few seconds later and for the first time ever, Matt couldn’t take his eyes off of her. It was like he was truly seeing her in a new light.

“Time to start my movie.” She took her spot between Nick and Chris while Matt pressed play. Chris noticed the stare and smiled to himself, knowing that this was the best possible thing for his 2 favorite people.

After all 4 movies had been watched, y/n looked at all 3 of the boys. Matt and Chris were passed out with their heads resting against each other. She snapped a picture of it and looked over at Nick. It was his rule that nobody was to fall asleep during any of the movies and y/n knew she’d be yelling at him for it in the morning.

Since she was alone, she decided to get up and go exploring the house on her own. She had spent a lot of time in Nick’s room and a decent amount of time in Chris’ room but she had only ever got a glimpse of what was in Matt’s room. This was her opportunity to finally see it. Nobody could stop her as she entered the bedroom.

Matt’s room was incredibly clean and neat, not what y/n was expecting at all. As she walked around looking at everything, her eyes settled on a framed photo on his desk. It was from the triplets 14th birthday and around the time Chris had realized he had feelings for y/n.

She picked up the picture and examined it some more. Nick’s arms were wrapped around y/n and Chris while Matt was standing behind them. All 4 of them had large, bright smiles and it made y/n wish for a simpler time again.

“You’re in my room.” Matt stood in the doorway and watched her jump.

“I’m sorry. I was just really curious to see what your room was like. I’ve never been in here before and it’s not at all what I was expecting.” She looked at him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It was going to happen eventually.” Matt took a step into the room and shut the door. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“What’s that?”

“Did Chris actually tell you that I could never see you the way that he does?”

“Yeah. And thanks for reopening that wound.” y/n sighed and sat on the end of Matt’s bed. He joined her and placed his hands in his lap awkwardly.

“He was right, you know..”

“Wow. Thanks again, Matthew.” She looked at him. “Did you come in here to make me feel bad or something?”

“No. I came in here to get ready for bed but then I saw you standing over there admiring the picture and it felt like everything shifted. Like our whole dynamic changed somehow and I’m still trying to process what’s been running through my head these last few days without you here.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. And what I was trying to say just a minute ago is that Chris may have been right a week ago but if he had said that to you now, he would be completely wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that last week, I didn’t think I could ever see myself feeling the way Chris did about you. Then we filmed the baking video last week and when you came out wearing my sweater, I thought it was really hot. It was the first time any girl had worn my clothes before and it felt really good knowing that the first one was you. And after tonight, I think I might actually have feelings for you. They may be small but they’re definitely there and I think I’d be an idiot if I didn’t tell you how I felt right away.” Matt took a deep breath. “And it’s okay that you may or may not feel the same way. Just thought you needed to hear it.”

“I do have feelings for you, Matt. I mean it only started recently but I do know that I like you. I just feel bad for Chris because he was so into me and I couldn’t give him that same love back.”

“Can we not talk about my brother right now?” Matt chuckled and held y/n’s hand. “Going back to what I said this afternoon and how I needed to talk to Chris. I talked to him while you were changing into your pajamas and he told me that if I genuinely liked you that I should go for it. And that’s what I’m doing. I don’t think there’s anyone like you in the world, y/n. You’re one of the kindest people I know, not to mention the most beautiful. Honestly, I never thought about it before but you’ve ticked off all the boxes on my list.”

“So does that make me your ideal girl?”

“I believe so.” He smirked and his eyes went down to her lips. “So, what do you think about that?”

“I think maybe you should kiss me before I lose my mind.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She pulled him into the most gentle and loving kiss he had ever experienced. After a few long moments, Matt was the first to pull away, even though he didn’t want to. He looked at her with the biggest smile he ever had.

“Okay, so for me, that was the best kiss of my life.” He couldn’t help but chuckle.

“It was the best kiss of my life, too.” She smiled and placed her hand on his cheek. “How good did you say it felt seeing me in your clothes?”

“Really good.” He looked in her eyes. “Like, it felt really really good.”

“Oh, so it turned you on?”

“Oh yeah.” He smirked and held her close. “Glad you’re still wearing my sweater actually.”

“Are you now?” “Definitely.” He kissed her again. And again. And again. As if the kisses would eventually runout. How could he have not done this sooner?

taglist: @worldlxvlys

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader

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sleepyxxhead · 9 months

Text

༉‧₊˚. flufftober 2023!!

WEEK 1: Troublemaker!Matsukawa x Goody-two-shoes!Reader

CONTENT: fem!reader, partying, underage drinking, drunk!reader, Mattsun calls reader “princess”, “doll”, “doll face”, etc.

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

CHARACTERS: Mattsun x fem!reader

NOTES: FLUFFTOBERRRRR YAYYYY!! I’m definitely not going to be posting at consistent times each week but i’m hoping to do each saturday. idk tho maybe i’ll post late probably

Matsukawa was crazy in love with you. The class president, the volleyball team manager, you were constantly consumed in extracurriculars; it seemed as if you were focused on everything except for him. Every other girl in school wanted him -- except you.

“Matsukawa-san! I got you chocolates!” Another one of his crazy fangirls squealed before scurrying away.

“Thanks,” he replied dryly, before tossing it into the pile of chocolates he had received for Valentine’s Day.

“Wow, Mattsun, that’s more than usual,” Hanamaki mused, chewing lazily on some of the sweets from the pile.

But instead of swatting his friend’s hand away, Matsukawa stayed silent - much to the former’s confusion.

“...Mattsun?” Hanamaki waved his hand in front of his friend’s face. “Earth to Matsukawa~”

“What’s this idiot up to?” Iwaizumi asked, entering the gym alongside Oikawa.

“Looks like he’s staring at president-chan~” Oikawa hummed.

“What? No I’m not,” Matsukawa grumbled, snapping out of his trance.

“Sure,” Makki teased, slapping a hand on his friend’s back.

“I’m nOT sTArinG..?” Iwaizumi mocked, rolling his eyes. “Fucking dumbass.”

“Mattsun likes Y/N-chan~!” Oikawa sang repeatedly as the four boys started stretching for practice. “Aw, look! His cheeks are turning red!”

Matsukawa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was never going to hear the end of it.

You hated Matsukawa Issei.

He was disruptive, annoying, and very good-looking.

“‘Sup, coach?” Matsukawa draped his arm over your shoulder, using the nickname he had given you ever since you became the volleyball team’s manager. You could smell his cologne despite him being all sweaty from practice. “No chocolates for your favorite volleyball player?”

You shrank under his weight, face heating up at the touch. “It seems like you have plenty already, Matsukawa-san.”

The boy didn’t seem to like your answer, because, in an instant, he had your back against the wall outside the gym, one hand planted beside your head.

“Come on, darlin’,” he breathed into your ear. “Nothin’? Really..?”

You could feel heat shoot up into your cheeks, his bold actions yet again flustering you.

“Look at you, cheeks all red f’me,” Matsukawa rasped. “So cute.”

With a satisfied look on his face, he pulled away, casually turning around to catch up with his friends. “Later, princess,” he called at you, wearing a shit-eating grin.

You covered your crimson-red face, trying to process what had just happened. “I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!” You muttered to yourself, grabbing your backpack to walk home.

“I hate him,” was all you could mumble as you headed towards the train station, furrowing your eyebrows and balling your fists. He made you feel so…uncomfortable. Whenever you were around him your heart would pound, and your stomach would do flips, you’d get all sweaty -- the list goes on.

But the more you thought about how you hated him, the more you thought about him. His dark, curly hair; his lazy eyes; his crooked grin. Just thinking about him made your heart flutter.

You groaned in frustration, finally realizing your feelings: you had fallen in love with one of the dumbest, most annoying -- but somehow most highly sought after -- boys at your school.

You knew that he didn’t like you and he was just teasing, you knew he was going to break your heart if you confessed, you knew all of his fangirls would hate you for the rest of eternity, but you just had to go and fall in love with him. He just had to make you fall in love with him.

As your week went on, you had hoped that your little “crush” would subside, but it didn’t. In fact, it only grew stronger the more he pinned you against walls or called you flirty nicknames.

He came up to you more frequently now, draping his arms over your shoulders from behind just to see you jump at the sudden touch. Whenever a guy would approach you he’d become even more relentless, calling you more nicknames, finding more excuses to pull you close.

He was driving you insane and he knew it. Now whenever you were around him your face would turn so red it looked as if you were ready to explode. It frustrated you to no end knowing that he flustered you so easily and didn’t share the same feelings.

“Yahoo~! Manager-chaaan~!” A high-pitched voice caught your attention as you finished up some classwork at lunch.

You raised your head, looking around for the voice. To your left, you saw Oikawa and Iwaizumi walking up to you.

“Over here! Hi! Can we sit?” Oikawa asked you, sitting down before waiting for an answer. Iwaizumi stayed standing, waiting for your response.

“Yeah, sure,” you told him, turning back to your homework. “Do you need something?” you asked the boys with a sigh.

“Manager-chan~ no need to be so cold!” Oikawa whined as he snatched your homework away from you.

You looked at him, a small pout on your face. “Yes?”

“Great!” Oikawa chirped. “Do you want to come to the bonfire by the river tonight?”

“What? No,” you answered immediately. “I hate parties -- bonfires, whatever. Plus, I have work to do for the student council.”

“C’monnn Y/N-chan~! Loosen up a bit, you’re always working. You need to relax a bit, have some fun, y’know?” Oikawa whined, filing his nails.

“I just can’t Oikawa-san. You know I love hanging out with you guys but I’m not that much of a ‘party animal’ like you two,” you said, drawing air quotes with your fingers.

“President-chan! Don’t be such a party pooper,” Oikawa complained. He leaned in close, cupping his hand around his mouth. “Mattsun’ll be there~”

Your eyes widened, hoping the two boys wouldn’t notice the heat rising to your face. “W-what makes you think that’ll convince me?”

Iwaizumi chuckled, lowering his voice. “It’s pretty obvious, y’know?”

“What’s obvious?” You sat up straight, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Oh our sweet, sweet manager…” Oikawa cooed. “Her face is so red thinking about Mattsun~!”

Your hid your face with your hands.

“Come on Y/N,” Iwaizumi sighed. “You don’t have to drink or anything, just have some fun.”

The ace raised his eyebrows expectantly at you; he almost reminded you of your mother. You were a third year and had never been to a single house party, why not have some fun? You groaned, knowing you’d regret your decision later. “Okokokok, fine!”

“Yay!!” Oikawa clapped his hands together. “We’ll pick you up tonight!”

As you got ready, you couldn’t help but notice a nervous feeling rising in your stomach. It would be the first real social event you had gone to, after all. Not some student leadership meeting or team bonding experience. You had no clue what to expect; the only vague images of parties or bonfires you had were scenes of huge house parties in movies that you watched with your friends a long time ago.

Just as you were grabbing your purse, your phone buzzed, indicating that your friends were here. You checked that you had everything that you needed -- or thought you would need -- and headed out the door.

“You really got her to come,” Makki remarked, grinning at you as you climbed in the back seat next to Mattsun. Iwaizumi was driving, Oikawa in the passenger seat, and Mattsun and Makki sat in the back seat with you.

“That’s right! I told you she would~” Oikawa responded, snatching five dollars from his friend’s hand. Makki rolled his eyes, looking out the window.

The car was fairly small, causing you, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki to be squished together, shoulder-to-shoulder, in the back.

Looking out the window you caught Oikawa wiggling his eyebrows at you through the sideview mirror, to which you gave him a confused look, but you knew exactly what he meant.

“So, Coach.” Matsukawa leaned impossibly closer to you, causing warmth to rush into your face. “How did this shithead convice you to come?”

“Not nice, Mattsun!”

“I-I dunno, we’re all third-years now and I’ve never been to anything like a party before. I just wanted to experience it, I guess,” you pondered.

“That doesn’t sound like you at all Y/N-san,” Makki said with a snicker.

“Yeah, I guess I just wanted to relax for once.”

“Makes sense, you’re constantly working -- I don’t even know how you have time to manage the volleyball team,” Makki thought aloud. “Have you ever had alcohol before, Y/N?”

“Uh, no? I wasn’t planning on having any tonight either,” you answered.

“To be expected of Mrs. President-chan!” Oikawa commented. “You know, you really should try some at least!”

“Eh, maybe,” you responded sheepishly. To be quite honest, you weren’t even thinking about alcohol until Hanamaki brought it up.

As the five of you arrived, you started to feel even more nervous. Despite being outdoors, the strong smell of alcohol and smoke overtook your senses, nearly knocking you over.

“Feelin’ woozy, princess?” Matsukawa asked under his breath, bringing his hand up to your back to help balance you.

“Just don’t like the smell of alcohol is all,” you responded, grateful for his hand. You watched Iwaizumi, Oikawa, and Hanamaki walking up to some other friends, saying hi.

You saw many other teenagers, just like yourself, walking and sitting around, holding cans and bottles and cups of alcohol. You couldn’t help but feel like an outlier as you followed your four friends around, staying behind them and looking at the ground nervously.

You soon found a spot to sit down, leaving your friends to go enjoy themselves. You watched them mill around, having fun and laughing with other friends.

“Hey, what’s your name?”

Turning your head, you found a girl that looked your age. She had dark hair and a big smile across her face. Judging by the way she acted, she had clearly had a couple of drinks already. She held in her hands two cans of beer as well as her phone.

“I’m L/N Y/N, and you?” you asked politely.

“I’m Nakamura Megumi! You want one?” she asked, holding out one of the cans to you as she sat down beside you.

“Uh, sure,” you responded, taking the can. You took a small sip, almost making a face at how foul it tasted. “I go to Aoba Josai, how about you?”

“I go to Johzenji!” she said, taking a sip of her beer. “Ohmygod, do you know Oikawa Toru?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m the manager of the volleyball team actually.”

“Oh my god! He’s so hot! Is he here?” she asked you giddily.

“Yeah, he’s right over there.” You pointed to him.

“Oh my gosh, isn’t he so hot?!” she fawned, noticibly slurring her words. “I’m going to go talk to him!”

You let out a sheepish exhale, watching her run stumble towards your friend. You took another sip of the awful liquid in your hands, deciding that you would finish it, not wanting to waste anything -- even if it was so horrible.

As the evening went on, you finally finished the contents of the can, throwing it to the side as you tried to focus your vision. Your head was spinning and your face felt horribly warm. You stood up, almost losing balance as you tried to spot your friends.

“Y/N?” Matsukawa said as the four of them walked up to you, grabbing your shoulders to keep you standing. “What’s goin’ on princess?”

“‘Wanna go home…” you whined. “‘M tired.”

“Okay, let’s get you home,” Matsukawa muttered, steering you towards the direction of the car.

“How much did you have to drink?” Oikawa asked you.

“Mmmm, like…one can?” you drawled, leaning into Matsukawa.

Your friends chuckled as you all got into the car. “Of beer? Damn, Y/N I didn’t know you were such a lightweight,” Hanamaki commented.

“Hey..! Not nicee!” You grumbled in Matsukawa’s shoulder.

The rest of the carride was silent, the thrumming of the car’s engine slowly lulling you to sleep.

As Iwaizumi finally pulled into your parents’ driveway, your eyes fluttered open. “Are we home?”

“Yeah, are your parents home?” Matsukawa asked, reaching across your body to open the door.

“M-m.” You shook your head. “Business trips…”

Matsukawa sighed in relief as he awkwardly climbed over you to get out of the car. He bent down, back facing you, sticking his arms out behind him. “Get on my back princess, I’ll carry you inside.”

You slowly draped your limbs over him, resting your head on his shoulder. “You guys can go, I think I’m just going to stay with her to make sure she’s okay.”

Iwaizumi nodded as Oikawa winked at his friend through the open window. “Use protection!” Makki called out teasingly as the car backed out of the driveway.

Matsukawa used the spare key under your doormat to enter you house. “How did you know ‘bout that..?”

“You told me about it awhile ago,” he said as he carried you upstairs to your bedroom. “Take a shower, I’ll get you something to eat, yeah?”

You nodded, getting off his back. You stumbled into the bathroom with your pajamas under your arm and turned on the water.

Matsukawa walked back downstairs, grabbing two packs of instant ramen for the both of you. As he waited for the water to boil, he left a glass of water as well as an Advil on your nightstand.

The smell of ramen convinced you to take a quick shower, feeling your empty stomach grumble. Opening the door to the bathroom, you found Matsukawa sitting on your bed, watching a show on your laptop and slurping up a bowl of ramen. He nodded towards your bedside table on top of which was a glass of water, an Advil, and a steaming bowl of ramen with some chopsticks. You almost drooled looking at the ramen.

“Have some water and ramen, then you should take the Advil,” Matsukawa instructed as you climbed under the covers next to him, grabbing the bowl of ramen and chopsticks.

“Watcha watching?” you asked him, looking at the screen.

“Spirited Away,” Matsukawa chuckled.

You gasped. “I love that movie!”

“I know, princess. Eat up.”

Once you finished your bowl and took the Advil, you snuggled up into Matsukawa trying to focus on the movie.

“Tired…” you told him, rubbing your eyes.

“Alright, doll,” he said, shutting the laptop and putting it to the side.

You wrapped you arms around his neck, hiding your face in it.

“I like you,” you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. “But don’t tell anyone though, ‘t’s a secret…”

“I like you too princess.” Matsukawa wrapped his arms around you, rubbing his hand soothingly up and down your back. “Go to sleep now.”

NOTES: AHFDSLAKJF flufftober is here!! anyways matsukawa is more flirty/bold than a troublemaker BUT THAt’S OK. this is the longest work i have posted here 💀

anyways i’ve been trying to get my 2 REQUESTS done AND IM SO SORRY ITS TAKING SO LONG but i’m having writer’s block rn idk and i know that’s like a really shitty excuse but i just can’t write LFDMSAFD please be patient as i try to write those 👍

have a nice day cutie <33

dividers: @cafekitsune

taglist form

inspired by prompts from: @creativepromptsforwriting

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spadecentral · 1 year

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👬 Two For the Count | Ace Trappola x Deuce Spade

>> requested: no >> a/n: this idea was from @marshmedow's pinned post!! i loved it sm i had to write it, i hope you don't mind

>> masterlist: here!! >> summary: fatal crashes never end well >> reader prns: n/a >> warning(s): hospitals; death; medicine; suicide

"C'mon Ace," Deuce pulled on his boyfriend's arm. "Let's go!"

Ace had promised Deuce that he would finally go on a ride on Deuce's Magical Wheel, and this was finally the time.

"Yeah, yeah," Ace rolled his eyes as he tried to buy time. He was never particularly fond of the vehicle, always being worried about Deuce whenever he went on it, and now that he was going on it he felt an extra sense of dread.

Reaching the Magical Wheel, Deuce smiled. "Well, here she is in all her glory."

"I uh, I see," Ace coughed. "And how long will we be... riding this thing?"

"Maybe thirty minutes? I don't know." Deuce shrugged. "Here! You can wear my helmet."

Ace held the helmet in his hands before asking, "Shouldn't you have a helmet too?"

"Don't worry, I've been riding this thing for ages! I'll be fine."

"Dumbass, you need a helmet." Ace let his worries get the best of him.

"Trust me," Deuce whined. "I'll be fine."

"If you die, it ain't on me, alright?" Ace joked.

"Whatever you say," Deuce said as he rolled his eyes. "Now get on!"

Ace stared with wide eyes as he and Deuce got on the open road. Occasionally, Ace would spit out a piece of Deuce's hair that got into his mouth. And other than the small reach that never fully landed on Deuce's handlebars, Ace was practically stone-still.

"You alright back there?" Deuce smiled.

"I'm great!" Ace said, but Deuce knew that he was uncomfortable by the way his voice cracked.

"Let's get something to eat then," Deuce slowly sped up, looking for the nearest shopping mall.

"With what money, loosey-deucey?" Ace smacked Deuce's side.

"Oh, yeah." Deuce looked away from the road and up at the sky. "What should we do then..."

But Ace could focus on nothing but the road. And when there was a slight slowdown in the cars in front of them, Ace's only instinct was to turn the Magical Wheel.

Ace was lucky that he made it out with only some minor injuries. He was grateful to Deuce for giving him his helmet.

Deuce was... not as fortunate. It pained Ace to see his boyfriend hooked up to several monitors and a ventilator. Several of Deuce's bones were broken, and there was no chance of him waking up soon.

Ace spent every second of his life in that hospital room until Deuce woke up. The other first years tried to get him out, get him to take a walk around the hospital gardens. Even Riddle tried. The best Trey could do was get him to brush his teeth. But other than that, he wouldn't budge. Ace didn't want the first thing Deuce to see when he woke up to be an empty room.

But, not everyone wakes up from fatal Magical Wheel crashes.

When Deuce Spade died, Ace's world shattered. He cried and wailed. He wouldn't let go of Deuce's cold hand. It took three nurses plus Riddle to get him away from Deuce so they could take him off the bed.

He hated everything and everyone. He wouldn't... no, couldn't go to Deuce funeral. He didn't want to embarrass himself anymore than he already did. A crying fool who lost his best friend and his boyfriend, both in the same second.

Eventually, he had to go onto antidepressants because of how much his mood changed. And the first pill bottle was all he needed. No refill necessary.

That bottle would be held in his hand until the next morning when Trey barged into his room to finally make him brush his teeth.

Ace wouldn't be brushing his teeth the next morning. Not ever.

#twstnexus #deuce spade #ace trappola #deuce x ace #ace x deuce #ace trappola x deuce spade #adeuce #twst #twisted wonderland #twst deuce #twst deuce spade #twst ace #twst ace trappola #@.twst.works

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aoizaraka · 1 year

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ɢᴏᴏᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ɴᴏᴡ!☽

PART 1 TOMAN CAPTAINS x Toman's Best Friend!Extremely Flexible!reader [ 🄰🅄🅃🄷🄾🅁'🅂 🄽🄾🅃🄴 ] reader will be identified as female, but I will try my best to post a gn ver.

pls give suggestions on the characters I should do for part 2!

MANJIRO SANO <𝙢𝙞𝙠𝙚𝙮 - very impressed with your flexibility and will ask you how far you could go without breaking your bones to see how flexible you are. - most likely will try to imitate it thinking it was easy considering how easy you made it look like (dumbass ngl lmaoo) but will probably hurt himself so you'll have to be the one to stop him from doing that if mother Kenny (Draken) isn't there.

-He met you because the place where you took your Gymnastics was near his Grandfather's dojo. He was just walking around till he saw you, beating up some bully that everyone in his neighbourhood was talking about

-he was absolutely impressed. he then went up to you and proceeded to talk with you like you didn't just beat up a guy 4x your size

-days passed and he hanged around you often. he even introduced you to Emma, Senju, Shinichiro, and Mikey's friends.

-then you guys met Draken, then started hanging out alot more as a trio

-when Toman was formed, you didn't accept his invitation to join them despite how powerful you were. But you did usually fight people alongside them and often hung around them which made it seem like you were a member.

-Mikey considers you as one of his closest friends, and is clingy around you. He is fully aware of your strength which makes him awe at you. He justs worry that you'll leave him like the others did. But at the same time, he justs wanna have fun with you and Draken.

RYUGUJI KEN <𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣

-he is grateful for you whenever he's not around and Mikey's doing random shit, he always counts on you.

-his opinion on you though-- he thinks your a capable, strong person.

-since Mikey met you before he met Draken, he somewhat respects you yet treats you like a good friend nonetheless.

-onetime when you guys were fighting someone, he saw your flexibility for the first time.. he was shocked ngl.. (in a somehow somewhat good way) shocked to the point he couldn't focus on his opponent anymore.

-yep, he knows what being flexible and what flexibility means but doesn't really care about it until he saw you kick some guy with your leg as high as you could.

-he wouldn't hide how impressed he is, in fact, he would say it was cool tbh

-if you guys would fight together, (or you and mikey or just all three) it would be legendary like Wakasa and Benkei.

-think about it though, if you all three fought together-- Mikey and Draken's strength with your Flexibility and fighting skills, yall would traumatize whoever you're fighting.

-he would ask you for some women advice so he would know what to do when talking to Emma.

-he loves your calm personality and will vent how annoying Mikey is to you.

MITSUYA TAKASHI

-like Draken, he loves your calm personality and was impressed when he saw your flexibility. But at the same time, he cant help but worry(?)..

-due to your calm energy, he introduced you to his younger sisters because he knew you weren't gonna act chaotic. Which he was right about, his sisters did like you alot.

-you both are the chillest people which makes you guys one of my preferred favorite duo.

-you don't necessarily hang out THAT much but you guys rarely do. You do converse though when you see each other at Toman meetings.

-asks you if you're okay and if it hurts, worrying when he saw you randomly doing a split on the floor when he comes to your place to give you back something you forgot while babysitting his sisters. (that was the first time he saw your flexibility.)

-like the other captains and vice captains and the Toman member's in general, he has respect for you because you are one of the friends of Mikey and Draken, but treats you friendly as well.

-Mitsuya thinks you're a good person even if you don't show much emotion.

BAJI KEISUKE

-like Mikey, he is curious how flexible you are.

-I can imagine him watching you fight because it amuses him how you beat people so easily.

-this is unnecessary to say but I can't help myself, but one time you were just walking around like a normal person would do until seeing some guy burn a car right in front of your eyes. Turns out that guy was Baji.

-when he did notice you, he didn't really care. Until you told him you could give him a new match box (or whatever you call it) because you noticed his matches were running out.

-he then decided you were a cool person.

-like Mitsuya, he doesn't hang around you much unless you guys are fighting other people together or both in a Toman meeting.

-he doesn't care but finds it interesting you flexible you were.

MATSUNO CHIFUYU

-respect.

-he is respectful to any one of the president's friends.

-you looked.. somewhat intimidating at first when he saw you, but when he got to talk to you he realized you were a calm, collected person.

-that, he admired.

-then when he saw you fight for the first time, applying your skills in gymnastics.

-"your bones didn't cut in half or something?"

-"no?? tf"

-I get a feeling you guys both like cats...

-one time, you both bumped into each other while heading over to some cat cafe.

-"[ LAST NAME ]-San? What are you doing here 😮😮😮"

-"no what are u doing here"🤨🤨

ɴᴏᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴏғʀᴇᴀᴅ

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪs ʙʟᴏɢ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ @aoizaraka . ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴀɴʏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɪɴsᴘɪʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ/ʀᴇғᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇs ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ.

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excalisi · 1 year

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my personal opinion on yoohankim

the reason why i am unwillling to read more than three pages of ao3′s yoohankim ship tag (this prelude is, in fact, ineffectual to my argument because at the time of this post, ao3′s yoohankim ship tag has three pages, but please ignore this for my following point) is because they all get them completely wrong.

all three of these mfs are emotionally inept and incapable of speaking their true feelings directly. they would not say, “i love you.”

what they would say (in a scenario [not Scenario] wherein they’re not at the pre-relationship stage, but not quite past the pining stage, after going through extreme amounts of character development. important, because at any other stage in this process, except in the ones past the pining stage, these would either be insults or just not said ever): “your prose is beautiful.” “i wrote this for you.” “i want you to be my ■■■.” “you were my beginning, and i want you to be my end.” “you’re my protagonist. i’ve put too much effort in you to let you go now.” “thanks for betareading for me.” “you’ll starve if you don’t take breaks, technical god of this universe or no. i made kimchi jjigae.”

the stages are like this:

pre-relationship is them at the end of canon.

pining is an extremely long period of uncertainty and miscommunication and learning each other where they help each other smooth over some issues (ie. thinking that kim dokja is going to disappear again if yoohan take their eyes off him, yoo joonghyuck having to acclimate to not regressing anymore bc he’s in his epilogue and the idea that any death he will experience will most likely be permanent, and han sooyoung grappling with the fact that she very publically arranged for kim dokja’s return so everyone knows that she has non-negative feelings about him, and just non-negative feelings in general).

getting together is a long space where they realize other, not apocolypse-related stuff about each other (kim dokja’s home isn’t the house kim com share, kim com themselves, or even yoohan. it’s ways of survival. han sooyoung is the type of writer who churns out ludicrously high word counts with an appalling ease and practically posts their first draft with minimal revision, but the end product is offensively flawless. yoo joonghyuck’s favorite skill he owns is cooking, not only because he likes taking care of others, but because he vastly prefers being able to create something with his own two hands over killing.)

the relationship life stage is domestic bliss (with an excruciating amount of annoying married “it was your turn to do the dishes; you forgot to write this on the grocery list, dumbass; you said you’d do the laundry yesterday!” bickering)

extremely important that they sound like they hate each other. all of them are very quiet about affection, and their eqs are all collectively shit enough that they would be unwilling to discuss whenever they cross a relationship milestone, such as holding hands, sharing a bed, or saying they care for one another aloud. but this ends up working in their favor, as they’re on the same, emotionally inept “i would actually rather strip in public and get arrested for public indecency than talk about my feelings” brainwave, so it doesn’t matter that they don’t talk about it

every time people write them as anything but the codependent, emotionally incompetent, bitchless trio of dumbasses they are, a part of me dies a little inside.

btw: they are in an ace relationship. either that or qprs. they are all in some shade of love with each other, whether it be platonic or romantic. han sooyoung is a lesbian.

thank you for listening to my tedtalk

#orv spoilers #orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #yoohankim #yoo joonghyuk #han sooyoung #kim dokja

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onigiri-dorkk · 2 years

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Lonely Nights

Rivamika smut. Like, really shameless smut. No holding back. It's porn. BAHAHHA. Gonna hold off on posting this to Ao3 for a while hehehehe. (Kind of inspired by the 'condom' scene in Microcosmos pffff)

Title: Lonely Nights

Summary: Levi accidentally finds something in Mikasa's satchel on their solo travels at sea on the way to Marley.

"Is this what you were imagining, Mikasa...? Me fucking you like this?"

Word Count: 4,990

*Edit: I uploaded this to Ao3 and fanfiction.net!

Levi gulped, a bead of sweat rolled down his temple as his widened eyes stayed planted at what was on sight on the ground.

Mikasa's satchel was left in the common chamber of the boat; a simple rock of the boat had caused it to fall over on the floor beside Levi as he sat at the table drinking his chamomile tea. The man placed his teacup carefully on its saucer before squatting to the floor to carefully make out what spilled out of a peculiar paper envelope from her bag. The envelope didn't have writing on it or anything, it seemed a bit secretive. But that wasn't what caught him off guard.

It was the pile of condom packets spilled across the floor by his feet.

He raised his brows and scoffed to himself. It was fine. Mikasa is a grown-ass woman, he thought. She was an attractive woman, and no sane man could deny the appeal of Mikasa Ackerman. Her sex life was none of his damn business. But to be frank, Levi was a little relieved the brat was being responsible. But what the hell? He couldn't help but wonder who the hell was sleeping with Mikasa Ackerman.

Jaeger? Kirstein?

No, those two are dumbasses.

Either way, someone was a lucky bastard.

He cocked a brow and shook his head of his thoughts. The sudden tightness in his pants was a nuisance, and he leaned forward to pick up the remnants of Mikasa's belongings, stuffing it back into the satchel.

Levi halted once again, his hands froze as he began to process this even more. He and Mikasa were on a journey back to Marley alone. No one else, besides Onyankapon who was manning the boat. Unless she has a thing for that man…

No—what the hell? Why does she have these?

He gulped.

…Is it for me?

Suddenly images of Mikasa's unclad body flashed in his mind; at least, what he'd always imagined it to be. His palms began to sweat imagining holding her creamy skin and hourglass form; he'd always noticed it whenever they'd help each other dress and gear up for missions and expeditions, much more when they'd spar. It was an undeniable painful attraction that the captain had always tried to kill off by occupying his mind with other things or of the impending war they had to deal with.

But there he was, kneeling on the wooden floor of the boat staring at the damn condoms… His thoughts full of detailed imagination of what it'd be like to fuck Mikasa for a night.

He slapped his palm to his forehead to snap out of it, leaving a slight red mark in its trace. Levi, what the fuck are you thinking? He slumped at the ground and ran his stressed hand through his hair. He felt his breaths suddenly turn shallow and his skin began to turn hot at the thought. It was always shitty to get so hot and bothered with no way but in the privacy of his cabin to get it out of him.

Levi was almost done picking up the condoms when he heard the door suddenly swing open behind him.

"Captain, have you seen my—"

His head flipped backwards at Mikasa as he stood quickly to his feet. Levi's face turned opaque-red as his eyes shot to Mikasa's, who was staring at the open bag in her captain's hands — he felt as if he'd been caught. He had no words to offer to console the moment. All he did was close the flap of the bag and toss the bag onto the table in between them.

"Captain? Were you looking through my belongings...?" Mikasa asked without emotion on her face.

"Your shitty bag spilled all over the floor." He turned his reddened face away and made a waving motion as if to shoo her away. "I think I got everything for you."

Mikasa quickly snatched the bag from the table and protectively braced it to herself, opening the flap to double-check on what was in it. Her eyes widened with embarrassment at the revelation that Captain Levi had seen what she carried with her on this trip.

"U-um, I can explain," she began, but Levi threw a palm in the air to stop her.

"You don't have to explain shit. You're a grown-ass woman. Not my business who you fuck." He cleared his throat and began to walk away in the opposite direction, facing his body away from her to hide the evidence of his blaring erection. It took so much effort for him to turn his profile to her and look towards her — still not directly at her eyes. "I just need you to know we won't have time for you to run around meeting men around Marley."

"Captain, it's not…" She took some steps towards Levi. "It's not for men in Marley."

Levi turned to face her and cocked a brow, surprised at this rather curious display of Mikasa as she made her way to stand close to him. Hm? What is this? It was different, and the man was as amused as he was aroused by this proximity and the conversation at hand. She seemed shy but her lips — her damn lips — were a cherry red, and she held a secretive look on her face which revealed her underlying boldness. He watched her eyes quietly darkened at him.

He was still doubtful, still trying to get a full read on this situation as he fought his thoughts running rampant from earlier, but it all went blank when he caught a glimpse of Mikasa's eyes staring at the bulge in his pants as she bit her lip. Fucking sultry.

…He dared to test the waters.

"Oh?" He took a step closer to her, closing some of the distance between them. He noticed she didn't move back, as if she wanted him to get even closer. His voice lowered to a breathy, deep tone as he slowly grabbed the bag from her hands. "And what might you need these for, Ackerman...?" He took the envelope of condoms out of her bag with the tip of his fingers before dropping it into her hands.

She stared at what lay in her hands for a moment, unmoved. And for a second, Levi wondered if he had miscalculated, until he caught a glimpse of Mikasa fluttering her lashes, closing the gap between them entirely as she pressed into him, daring to challenge him back. But as usual Levi stood his ground with her; their faces just mere few inches apart as she felt his stiffened member against her leg. Mikasa took the gamble to brush harder against him. A coy smirk arose on her face at the soft sigh that escaped his lips.

She got him.

She stared, not giving him a word, forcing him to wait moments for her answer and to feel her breathing against him, before she finally leaned forward and spoke quietly into his ear. "It's for our lonely nights at sea, Captain."

He tilted his head, finally grasping a full read of this… situation. Not that he had any control of it; he was turned on and damned already. But the signal was well received, and it thrilled him.

"Tell me, then," He pulled back and lifted a hand, gently tugging at her soft dark hair backwards with his fingertips. A weak groan escaped her throat at his grip. "Is tonight one of those lonely nights, Mikasa…?"

Mikasa pulled away, the air turning electric as she turned around. A smile curled on her lips and his body tensed as he watched her walk to the door of the chamber with a slight sway in her hips. She closed it to a click behind her and peeked over her shoulder with slow-blinking eyes, entertained at the ravenous expression of Levi ogling at her as she walked slowly to him again. "It won't be very lonely if you'll join me, Captain."

"Then I can't leave you unaccompanied, can I?"

Mikasa felt electricity soar throughout her body at his answer. She stood before him and began tracing a finger across his chest before pushing him firmly against the wall with a thud.

"Shit," he hissed. He was really aroused now. His eager hands found her waist and he pulled her selfishly to himself before lowering to grab her ass.

Mikasa slid her palm down his chest, further down his solid abdomen, then grazed her palm against the bulge of his pants before pawing at it. He threw his head backwards at the touch and let himself rest against the wall as he felt Mikasa's graceful fingers stroked his length from outside of the fabric, her shy giggles filling the air.

"Hell, Ackerman," he locked eyes onto hers as she grinned at his uncontrolled movements in her grasp. "That feels so fucking good." His raspy voice in her ear demanded more. He began to reach for her face until she grabbed his wrist and placed his hands onto her breasts and—shit, she wasn't even wearing a bra. He could feel how plump and taut her breasts were, and her hardened nipples were bursting from the seams. The erotic sighs that left Mikasa's mouth were reward for this touch.

They stood there against the boat walls; Mikasa panted louder with her captain as she stroked him harder, and as he leaned down to bite her stiff nipple in his teeth through the fabric of her shirt. It'd been years since Levi had sex with a woman, and if this was the night that'd break his streak, Captain Levi planned to savor every second of it.

…Is this happening?

The boat suddenly gave a strong rock that made them clumsily stumble, breaking their balance and snapping them out of the heat of the moment. Levi took shaky steps backwards away from Mikasa's touch, and they stood there, faces and lips reddened and plump with arousal staring at each other with widened eyes before turning away and catching their breaths. The reality of what just happened began to dawn on them.

It was awkwardly silent until Mikasa picked up her bag. "S-sorry," she mumbled under her breath, before turning to leave the room quickly.

Levi watched her exit with a stunned look on his face. The door shut behind her and a wash of guilt and regret filled him in the moments that followed. He slammed a fist against the table and paced back and forth.

Shit... Shit! I shouldn't have let that happen.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

An awkward hour passed. Levi lay in his cabin, staring at the ceiling, trying to distract himself from the guilt and soon-to-be shame the next time he'd have to face Mikasa. He was angry with himself and began to doubt his leadership. And for fuck's sake, his erection still wasn't settling down.

The night started off finding the shitty condoms in her bag, daydreaming about who the hell Mikasa Ackerman would give herself to, and there she approached him and stroked him with desire he never thought he'd see in her eyes as she looked at him. His heartbeat began to race again as he replayed those moments; her hand rubbing against him, the feeling of her breasts in his hands. Fucking hell.

But it was no excuse. He was her captain; she was his subordinate. And it was his responsibility to keep it together, to hold it all back, even if he had always been insanely attracted to his right-hand soldier - even if she returned that attraction. And the responsible thing to do right now is own up to his irresponsible mistake, instead of laying in his cabin wanting to please himself at the memories.

Next thing he knew, Levi was heading to Mikasa's cabin door, ready to knock. He was ready to tell her it can't happen again, that there was way too much at risk, that he can't be interested in anything that could compromise his leadership over her. He was ready to apologize and own up. He stood there, staring at his feet and rehearsing his words in his head while fighting off the thoughts.

He lifted a hand and knocked, finally looking up and realizing the door was already open. "Mikasa." His heart was racing, ready to face her with shame.

There was no answer.

He knocked again, listening for if she was asleep. But as he leaned in, the tempestuous sounds of Mikasa's heavy breaths, her panting and moaning lightly in her room proved otherwise, and she began mumbling something passionately under her shortened breaths.

"L-Levi… Levi…!"

The man couldn't control himself any longer. He swung the door open desperate to see this evidence; the literal breathtaking back view of Mikasa Ackerman bent forward on her mattress wearing nothing but an opened button-up shirt as she pleased and touched herself thinking of him made Levi turn to complete mush, giving him possibly the most painful, impatient erection.

He expected Mikasa to fall over and cover herself in embarrassment at his entrance.

Instead, she peeked over her shoulder, ass still in the air, glazed eyes rolling back for a split second before meeting with his, and she didn't stop for a moment to continue fucking herself with her fingers as she knew he watched. In fact, she fingered even faster at the sight of Levi — a dazed smirk flashed at him as if she had been counting on him to show up, and the way she moaned his name even louder was inviting.

Levi didn't know what the hell overcame Mikasa over this trip. But the pieces were falling together, and the way she now spread her legs open towards him, exposing her dripping pussy from behind and licking her fingers at his direction, told him she wanted to fuck him just as much as he wanted to fuck her right here, right now.

Levi completely gave up and accepted the invitation. And oh, was he hungry. He rushed into her room and slammed the door closed behind him, undoing his pants and kicking his shoes off in an instant. "Don't fucking stop," he commanded as he brought out his cock and began pumping on his own, making his way to her. "Don't stop thinking of me," he hissed. He took the space between her bare legs on her mattress, kneeling on the cushion and facing her raised ass as he watched her listen to his demand to please herself in front of him.

Her pussy was dripping and her toes were curling at his presence, and she knew he liked watching her involuntary twitches.

Levi groped her ass before giving a hard slap, forcing a yelp from her lips.

"Again," she pleaded.

Who was he to deny?

Slap.

He smirked at the immediate reddened mark of his handprint on her cheek and it sent him in a total frenzy. Mikasa yelped again and had to stop touching herself as she winced from the sting of humanity's strongest's slaps. Her wet fingers clenched against the bedding above her head and her dry, open-mouthed gasping suggested she needed a break.

But Levi had other plans. "I'm not allowing you any breaks tonight, Ackerman." Levi spat on his right hand and immediately began trailing a finger between her slick folds. It felt like gold on his fingertips, and her pleasured sighs were music to his ears. He leaned his aching body over her back and brought his left hand to pull her dark hair towards him.

"A-ah—yes—Levi!" She called out his name and he pulled even harder while shoving two fingers deep into her, making her gasp.

He bit the skin of her shoulder before leaning into her ear to speak. "Do you want more, Mikasa?" He began pumping into her with three fingers knuckles deep now, the sopping wet sounds filled the air of her room even before she answered.

"More," Mikasa gasped, "More, Levi—AH!"

Immediately at the demand, Levi let go of her hair and shoved her to fall forward into her pillow. Her ass still high in the air, Levi leaned down and violently crashed his tongue against her center of pleasure from behind; he vigorously rubbed her clit with his fast-moving fingers as began his awaited feast between Mikasa's legs.

Mikasa screamed even louder, her back arched forward as she felt the flat of his tongue slowly graze her pussy in long, broad strokes. She felt the groaning of that low, seductive voice of her Captain create pleasing vibrations against her. His soft, hot tongue continued working back and forth onto the full length of her slickness as he lapped faster and faster. He reached his tongue further forward, flicking her clit with insane speed and pressure that had her seeing stars.

She was moaning so loud from her gaping mouth, Levi knew without a doubt Onyankapon could hear everything on the boat, but he didn't give a damn. He wanted her screams to be heard across the fucking sea. "You taste so fucking good, Mikasa," his muffled voice let out. "I've wanted to taste you for so long."

He threw her legs over his shoulders in the air, forcing her to balance on her forearms on the bed as he began fucking her pussy with just his tongue. Her sweet juices were running down his chin, all over her thighs, and for once he didn't mind this kind of mess. It was fucking filthy, yet he loved every bit of it. He attacked her swollen clit with vigor and spoke to her between the sucking, his voice muffled between her thighs. "Is this what you were imagining, Mikasa...? Me fucking you like this?"

She was at her limits, and he was dead right. This was exactly what she had imagined and wanted for so long, and she knew this solo trip would be the perfect opportunity to finally fuck her attractive captain. That was enough to bring the tension in Mikasa's body to finally snap. "CAPTAIN!!" She was shrieking so loud without restraint, Levi could feel the vibration of her voice bouncing back from the metal walls as her body jolted against his mouth still eating her out through her climax. He pulled away and watched her pink flesh pulsing before his eyes.

She was still in the middle of jolting when he threw her against the mattress, grabbing her ankles and flipping her onto her back with no time to spare. Her shirt splayed open and he took a moment to take in the sight of her perfect breasts as they jerked and jolted with her aftershocks. What a sight to see.

"Think you can handle more of me, brat?" Levi stood from the bed, hovering above her as he stripped her open shirt from her body, throwing it aggressively to the ground below him.

Mikasa's naked body was covered in dripping sweat, waiting desperately for him again. She was still huffing, struggling to catch her breath to even answer him. She watched as he leaned down on her, pressing his face between her breasts before moving to leave red lovebites all over her chest, dragging his tongue and marking his soldier's territory. She winced as he lightly bit her nipples, then soothed it with his wet tongue.

He pulled his trousers down and revealed his impressive erection that had been achingly waiting for this. Mikasa's glazed eyes stared down at him; Levi could see the desire and excitement in her face and it made his cock twitch. She was still panting, but she managed to say one word: hurry.

Levi crept up between her legs on the bed. Mikasa reached down and began stroking him, thumbing the bit of wetness at the tip of his cock before stroking the full length back and forth. "Fuck, Mikasa," he clenched his teeth and grinned at her. That was enough to fill her energy back to the brim.

Mikasa remained laying down and grabbed Levi's waist, tossing him up to line his cock to her face as Levi knelt on all fours above her. She raised herself slightly on her elbows to take him by the mouth, sucking without restraint. She laved her tongue around the full length of his stiff member before focusing her tongue around the tip in slow, languid movements. Suddenly she took his full length into her mouth down to her throat in one motion, lips parted around the base of his cock, sucking with hallowed cheeks.

Levi began thrusting into her mouth; the wet heat engulfing his cock as she stroked his lubricated length with a fast-moving hand. He was fucking her pretty mouth, making eye contact with her, and wanted nothing more than to come right there — but Levi was a patient man, despite Mikasa Ackerman testing him this way. He grasped a hand at the headrest of the bed and savored the feeling.

He quickly peeled away from her, saving his energy and catching his breath. He fell back onto his knees as he sat up. Levi looked down at Mikasa in heat, he could see her tongue still moving in her open mouth as she gasped for air. She flashed a smug smile at him. "Have you ever imagined that, Captain…?"

"All the time." He made his way off of the bed and yanked her body with him, making her open legs fall off the side edge of the bed as he stood between them. Her arms were laid on the mattress above her head and he took both wrists to pin them down. "I imagined this all. the. fucking. time."

He smoothed his cock against her wetness, rocking his hips forward and back to explore the warm length of her as she squealed beneath him. Her eyes closed and he could see the way she was savoring the feeling just as himself — it was clear that they both had imagined this for so long. She tried to free her pinned hands from his grasp to hold him but he wouldn't let her. He lined up his tip to her entrance. "I need you to look at me, Mikasa. This isn't a shitty dream anymore."

Her eyes shot open the moment he pushed into her tightness inch by inch, and she gave a raspy moan as she adjusted to his large size. Their eyes were locked onto each other's now — the reality of this bringing them a shared ecstasy they had never felt before as Levi began to pump incessantly inside of her. Mikasa bit her lip at the pressure building inside of her from Levi's mass filling her; Levi gritted his teeth at the heat hugging his throbbing cock, and neither of them could look away. It was too damn good.

Levi began pounding into her rigorously, eliciting louder moans from the woman as she rolled her hips towards him. "Just how long have you wanted me to fuck you like this, brat?!" He raised his voice over the sopping sounds of their flesh smacking together.

She couldn't physically bring herself to answer him; not just because her body was being fucked like this but because she honestly didn't know. She'd always imagined this, maybe from the beginning. Mikasa had spent many nights in the quiet of her cabin and in her tent on expeditions touching herself and thinking of Captain Levi. She felt the pressure building deep in her again.

Levi finally let go of her reddened wrists and tossed her on the mattress again on her back. He brought her slender legs high against his chest as he thrust into her again, setting his tempo again. His ears perked at her moans even louder at this angle. He watched as she dragged her hands down to grope her own breasts, playing with her nipples as her breasts bounced back and forth with his rough movements.

He could feel her muscles beginning to clench around him, and he dipped lower and jackhammered even harder to reach her sweetest spot. Mikasa began to scream bloody murder on the boat. "Le-LEVI! Not yet—"

She pushed him backwards aggressively, making him fall on his back on the mattress as he panted. She squirmed for a second before sitting up and slowly crawling above him with legs still twitching. Mikasa found her place atop of him is if he was her throne, and bucked her hips to force his re-entrance. A sigh escaped her lips.

Levi's hands found her waist as he watched this display of Mikasa's sexy body bouncing on top of him; his hands helping her slam more pleasure on his length. She reached for his hands and guided them to her breasts that were dangling over his face now. Levi reached his neck forward to suckle on them while she writhed atop of him.

Then she arched backwards, gripping his calves in her hands, grinding on him violently back and forth; she could feel the tip of his cock hitting her inner walls that made her see stars. "Holy shit, Levi," She threw her head back as she squirmed in circles on him, making the stickiest sounds of their lovemaking fill the air. "You feel so good," she spat into the air above them.

It built his confidence. "Yeah…?" Levi reached a hand from her breast and up to her neck, pulling her down to look at him again. His hand gripped the back of her neck as he pulled her in for a kiss; his tongue found hers and they began to breathe each other in as Levi began to slam into her from below. "Is this better than what you expected?"

"You're lasting lon... longer than I expected," she smirked and teased him, her words hitched for a moment at an aggressive thrust.

"Who the hell do you take me for, brat?" Levi grabbed her body and tossed her on her fours beside him as he made his way behind her again. She looked over his shoulder at him and he slapped her ass again like earlier, except it stung even more. He lined himself up again as she planted on her elbows. "I'm humanity's fucking strongest. I could fuck you like this every night."

"Is that a challenge, Captain?"

Levi wanted to fuck the sly tone out of her voice. "It's a promise. You're fucking mine."

Mikasa felt Levi's hand wrap around her throat, choking her slightly from behind as he plowed into her at his fastest and most merciless pace yet; reaching a pleasurable depth in her that she didn't know was reachable. A choked sob she tried to hold in escaped. It almost hurt, but it felt so fucking good, just like his hand moving from her throat and hooking fingers in her mouth. She began sucking his fingers as he continued attacking her from behind. This time, Levi's moans were the loudest as her mouth was occupied.

Suddenly Levi grabbed Mikasa's arms and held hostage them behind her back; she fell face forward into her pillow and let out uncontrollable euphoric screams. They were so hot; the air of the cabin turned humid with their hot breaths, panting, the screams and groans. She could feel her juices seep more and more down her own legs and against his body every time he thrust; she was gonna explode.

The thought that Captain Levi was enjoying this as much as she was enjoying it was sublime. The thought that he wanted to do her like this every night was heaven. "Fuck me... Fuck me, LEVI!" She screamed recklessly into the pillow at the top of her lungs, uncaring at who might hear. He met her demands instantly, going at her like a wild animal, this pleasure like nothing else for both of pressure in her body exploded into a climax again, convulsing with her shattered breaths. Mikasa felt like her quivering body was on fire.

"Mi-Mikasa…! I'm gonna come—" She felt his cock swell even bigger inside of her as he pumped through her aftershocks. He lasted as long as he could before Mikasa dared, "Fucking come on me, Levi!" He pulled out of her and came onto her belly with indecipherable groans. Mikasa took his dick in her hands and stroked, letting the rest of Levi's love sputter on across her breasts at his release. His frenzied eyes took a moment to look down at her; his work of art displayed the just-fucked body of Mikasa Ackerman.

Levi slumped to the mattress beside her and threw a hand to his sweating face, gasping for air. "Holy shit, Mikasa," he breathed and turned to her as she giggled innocently at him. She was a damn mess. He watched as her naked body stood from the bed, his juices dripping down her breasts and down the curves of her waist before she wiped it with a cloth.

He expected her to get dressed and tell him to leave, but instead she laid back in the bed, pressing up against him and tracing a finger across his chest. They lay silent, just breathing for minutes that felt like an eternity; both wondering who would be the one to break this silence of their thoughts going wild.

"Captain…"

Shit. She's probably regretful now. I knew I shouldn't hav—

"Keep your promise." Mikasa blinked at him and smiled, then leaned over to his ear and whispered. "...Fuck me like that every night."

"Mikasa, you know we only have three more nights at sea here."

"Like I said," she closed her eyes and began to drift to sleep. "Every night. Even after all of this."

Levi's eyebrows raised, impressed. The thrill and idea of making love to Mikasa Ackerman at her demand excited him. But goddamn, he was spent.

He began to sleep… Until his eyes shot open.

We forgot the fucking condoms.

#rivamika #rivamika SMUT #SHAMELESS SMUT #HAPPY SMUTTOBER #may my husband never read this #LET ME KNOW WHAT YALL THINK #onigiriwrites

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vigsilantes · 2 years

Text

kind of a mess (adrian chase x reader)

Pairing: Adrian Chase x Reader Summary: Adrian comes home from a night out as Vigilante and you help clean him up from the fight you didn't go to. Word Count: 1.3k Tags: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Post-Canon, Reader-Insert Warnings: swearing, gore, blood, knifes, drugs

>>>(read on ao3)<<<

Working a double shift in a loud, busy cafe all day can absolutely be exhausting. From annoying customers, to screeching children, to complaining dumbasses who messed up ordering their own orders, you definitely had a migraine. Whenever you get migraines, it’s never fun, and all you can really manage to do is lay down and relax. After Adrian picked you up from work, he almost immediately realized you weren’t feeling good, and instead of being his loud, energetic self, he was his quiet, energetic self for the sake of your headache. Quietly, he ran through his day of work at Fennel Fields, and you two complained about work for the ride home. Once you got home, you decided to stay in for the night instead of helping out with Vigilante business. You could definitely use the night off from stopping criminals. So, after Adrian made sure you were all set to be left alone, meaning he made sure you had something to eat and medicine for your migraine, he left your apartment, and you laid down on the couch. You threw on some reruns of Parks and Rec and eventually fell asleep.

A loud thud outside your front door abruptly woke you from your nap, which caused you to frantically jump off of the couch and grab a hidden knife that was strapped under the side table. You slowly approached the door and listened to the other side but all you could hear was shuffling and low mumbling.

“It’s me, babe,” you heard Adrian grumble. You immediately opened the door to see a hunched over Vigilante with wounds all over his body.

“Oh god,” you huffed, threw the knife down, and tenderly pulled your boyfriend into your apartment. “I don’t go out with you guys for one night,” you said with feign annoyance in your voice, Adrian chuckled under his mask. Once you got him in you led him to the kitchen and he sat down. He ripped off his mask and his hair was damp, his nose was bloodied, and he had a cut on his forehead. He looked at you and raised his eyebrows. You got his glasses from his safety pouch and placed them on his face for him, he pushed them up his nose.

“What the hell happened?” you softly asked, and he gave you a cunning look. Turning away from him you quickly ran to grab some medical supplies to clean him up. Luckily it doesn't look like he needs any stitches.

“So, it’s actually a really funny story,” he began, sounding encouraging, but when you turned around to walk back over to him, he was awkwardly smiling. You handed him a towel to hold to his nose and got out antiseptic to clean his cuts. You were now hovering over him, and you lifted up his chin so you could observe him. His eyes were soft as he looked at you.

“Go on,” you offered, wanting to know what the hell he and Chris got into. You began preparing a bandage for him.

“Okay well, we were just going around the town like normal, except in the car a little while after I picked up Chris, he kept complaining about how much Taylor Swift I was playing, which was too much apparently, but that just seems crazy to me, so he was going through my phone and I eventually just pulled over so we could fucking agree on something to play but then we saw these two black shady cars pull up and it ended up being a drug deal an-“

“Hold on, this is gonna sting,” you told him truthfully. You put some antiseptic on a cotton ball and patted his forehead.

“Ouchhhh,” he whined, and gave a weak smile.

“Sorryyyy,” you replied, feeling bad. After he got used to the pain he calmed down. “So?”

“Yeah so, we saw a drug deal!!” his eyes lit up. “It was this weird liquid shit from Gotham that really fucksss people up, and we beat the shit out of these guys to find their suppliers, then once we got to the shipping docks where they had this drug stored – we snuck in, then got in a fight, then got caught for a bit and they tried interrogating us but we didn’t say jack shit obvs, and then we broke out and killed everyone!” he exclaimed, and looked back up at you with fire in his eyes. You stuck the band aid on his cut.

“Seriously, the one night I don’t go out with you dinguses!” your face turned pink, and he laughed. "At least you don't need stitches tonight, babe," you reasoned. He had some blood on the corner of his mouth, you wiped it away with your thumb and let your hand linger there for a second. He stood up and met your lips with his for a passionate kiss, you could tell he missed you.

“How are you feeling? Does your head still hurt?” he asked and rubbed your shoulder. “I could get an ice pack or something for you it you need it, honey!?” Even torn to shit he’s still worried about your lousy headache.

“I slept it off, babe, but thank you,” you smiled, and gently caressed his arm, feeling warm inside from how much he cares about you. You finally got a good look at him, and his suit was tattered up a bit, and there was blood seeping through a few spots but it wasnt anything too serious. “Can you help me take off your suit?” you asked, he shook his head. He slowly started undressing, and piece by piece his armor fell to the floor. After shedding off the suit you gently pushed him down to the chair so he could sit, he moaned.

You started cleaning up his wounds and applying Neosporin to some of them, but he was mostly covered in what will soon be bad bruises. After a few minutes of cleaning his wounds and hearing more play-by-plays of the night, you had successfully patched up your boyfriend. You helped him get up so you two could go sit together on the couch. He was wearing nothing but his boxers and he felt a bit cold when you touched him, so you grabbed your favorite knit blanket and wrapped it around him before you sat down next to him. He immediately pulled you close to him and wrapped the blanket around you too. He never cares how much pain he is in; he always wants to be close to you.

“Now I feel bad for not going out with you guys,” you said softly and looked at him.

“Pshh, you don’t even need to, it wasn’t that serious… we’ve been in worse situations, babe,” he stated, trying to make you feel better. “Remember Goff, or those other drug dealers? Now those were some sticky situations,” he tapped your arm playfully.

“Yeahhh but still.”

“Hey, don’t feel bad, for realzies, even though you weren’t there I still heard you in the back of my head which is what helped me loosen my ties to attack them!” he admitted, you blushed.

“Really?” you brightened up, and he nodded his head.

“Yeah! So technically you did help us out there tonight, even from here!” he beamed, he’s always so optimistic, you absolutely adore it. “Thank you,” he smiled and moved the hair out of your face.

“I didn’t do anything bu-“

“Okay well thank you for literally being in my brain and helping me do something to escape but also thank you for cleaning me up,” he grinned, and you couldn’t help but smile. He always makes you cheese so hard, and you will never understand how he does it. “I looked like a fucking mess, didn’t I?” he asked. He pulled you in even closer than you just were and snuggled together on the couch.

“Yeah, you did,” you laughed, “not anymore though, now you're only kind of a mess,” you both chuckled, he rested his head onto yours, you were both tired.

“Awesome! Kind of a mess is something that I can totally work with!” he said, softly kissing your cheek.

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persianflaw · 1 year

Note

4 11 14 16 pick anything

4. what was the last straw that made you finally block that annoying person?

i can't think of a singular "annoying person" in fandom that i've felt compelled to block in a while. most of the time, if i'm blocking someone over fandom, it's just because i don't mesh with their interpretations and it's the easiest way to filter their content out of my dash.

that being said: the first person who came to mind was this user from sherlock fandom who was convinced that they had been the first one to come up with a particular portmanteau or slang or something, and had strong feelings about that. it was their url too, and i think there was some kind of recurring drama where they got mad at people for tagging posts [slang term] because it meant they couldn't check their url tag as easily. it was this really goofy petty drama and for some reason i thought it was the most annoying thing in the world back in 2012 or whenever this was.

also, rjalker, who has since deleted their blog, and who i feel no shame about naming because they said some pretty fucking nasty things to and about me when i made about the most milquetoast "i think murderbot should kiss its friends :-)" post you could think of. they had bad opinions about murderbot and apparently about a lot of other fandoms. but they blocked me first so it doesn't really count for this LMAO

11. number of fandom-related words you’ve filtered

14, but several of those are variants. it's a few fandoms i'm not personally in (AA, critrole) plus sansmaeda and as many variants of that stupid homophobic "fingers in his ass sunday" meme i could think of, which i do consider fandom-related

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

gushing over attributes that a character does not actually have. this is more noticeable with live-action canons, since illustration/animation/text description allows for a lot more individual interpretation. not everybody's fave has long, slender fingers or full lips or a nice ass (this is the biggest one that people delude themselves about). let's not kid ourselves.

16. you can’t understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

the m/m/f dynamic where it's "the girl with her shit together taking care of her silly boyz" is nothinggg to me. let the woman be messy or an idiot or a weirdo too! it's uptight sitcom wife who has to mother her goofy dumbass sitcom husband with extra steps.

also, femdom where the dom's pleasure is weirdly sidelined or-- sanitized is the only way i can think to word it? unfortunately common in het femdom but it definitely exists in f/f femdom too. all of the focus is put on the sub and what they're getting out of the experience, even if it's the dom's pov. it's kind of like the real-world phenomenon where submissive men will talk a big game about wanting to please their goddess but in reality their idea of "servicing" is ultimately still about what they think is sexy to do, if that makes any sense. let me see how she's feeling too! let me see her enjoying pegging her partner or having her boots blacked or whatever, really viscerally enjoying it.

#ask #swarovskinipples #choose violence ask meme #i went pretty broad with most of these haha #ty for sending them!! these were fun :>

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theplanetprince · 2 years

Text

Schrodinger's Adolescent || Ch. 18

Fic: AO3 || FNN

Fandom: Danny Phantom

Rating: Teens and Up

Word Count, as of update (approx): 133k~

Chapters: 18/40 (subject to change)

Relationships:

Dash Baxter/Danny Fenton,

Sam Manson/Tucker Foley,

GhostWriter/Ember Mcclain,

Characters:

Danny Fenton,

Dash Baxter,

Sam Manson,

Tucker Foley,

Cujo,

Johnny 13,

Ghostwriter,

Sidney Poindexter,

Mr Lancer

Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Slow to Update, Canon Rewrite, Post-Reality Trip, High School Setting, Fake Dating (Kinda), Unrequited Love, It's requited but they're dumbasses, one-sided attraction, fluff, I know the content warning is extensive, but I promise there's fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, Danny Fenton has PTSD

Content Warnings: A lot of talk/descriptions of food, mentions of starvation, stalking, inappropriate contact with a minor, assault,

Fic Summary: “Schrodinger put his cat in a box with a bottle of poison. He closes the lid. The cat is alive or dead— In this state, the cat is neither. He leaves the box closed. You are the cat.”

All Danny Fenton wanted was to be normal. He had to work harder at it than most of his peers. Normal wasn’t exactly an option while being the Phantom of Amity Park. Of course, that all changes when Danny accidentally outs himself to his bully, Dash Baxter. Between dances, big games, school plays, and violent biker demons— Danny’s got his hands full. What may be surprising is just how much Dash cares about the human underneath the ghost…

Author's Note: I am beyond relieved to have finished this chapter. I am so glad. It took me all week but I've finally can carve my way forward. I guess I should thank Wes for this one. Wes really changed the direction for this chapter, and I think I owe him that. -Voorhees ✌

Wesley liked the outdoors— No, he adored the outdoors. Home to Wes wasn't limited to the construction of a building. He was never the kind to feel comfortable in one place for long. He had to move, and he had to stretch his legs. He loved climbing trees. That was the big positive he took away from the move to Amity Park. They called it the sticks for a reason. There was so much life compared to the major cities the Westons resided in prior. At first glance, at least. The irony wasn't exactly obvious then.

Whenever the world got to be too much, as it often did when you were a teenager, Wes could just put one hand over the other. Then suddenly, his issues didn't seem so bad. They seemed so small up above the ground. His brothers had affectionately given him the nickname 'spider-monkey' due to his habit of dropping everything when he made eye contact with something he could climb or jump off.

More often than he'd like to admit, Wes would pop open his bedroom window and slide down the rain gutter and walk to the park just like he did tonight.

He walked until he found the tallest tree he could. He elected to climb it until his arms burned from carrying his weight. He didn't hear it when the motorcycle pulled up. No, he was still lost in his thoughts and grief. He was stewing from another fight with his parents. They had busted his chops for his 'attitude' … again. Like Wes wasn't entitled to one after being trapped in this hellhole. Attitude was how you survived.

Resting his back flat against the trunk, he exhaled. Tapping the back of his skull against the bark, Wes turned over the argument once more. He thought about the look of worry on his mother's face. He thought about how his dad never used to shout so much before they moved here—wondering what he could have said differently. What could he have done—?

Did it even matter?

No one even listens to me, anyway.

Not my parents, not Kyle or Easton. Not even Dash…

That brought his thoughts back to the present. What was he going to do about Dash? Why was he so… stubborn?! He had to know the Fentons were bad news.

Wes didn't have friends anymore. Danny made sure of that. But Wes still owed Dash his loyalty— Wes still needed to keep him safe. Wes wanted to cling to whatever he could hold. He couldn't just come out and say it like that, right? Wes and Dash weren't exactly on speaking terms… but…

Why did this have to be so hard?

Wes wanted to be good. He wanted to be true and good. The issue therein, nobody believed it. Nobody thought Wes was capable of such noble pursuits. Most of all, he wanted to be happy, but the world wouldn't let him. Not if the world still had Danny Fenton in it.

Danny Fenton was a stain that refused to fade.

Danny Fenton was a monster.

Danny Fenton had to die, but by some miracle— he couldn't. He can't die.

What's the opposite of a miracle?

Weston could care less who delivered the coup de grâce. He just wanted to be there to witness it. He wanted to know exactly what kind of evil sustains itself for that long without burning up. Maybe it would be like discovering a new element. He wanted to see them open him up. What kind of diseases could you cure with a guy who refused to die? How much money would that be? Had to be enough for a bus ticket out of Amity Park.

It wasn't exactly righteous to wish death upon someone. But since when was it righteous to walk back from your maker?

If people had read the Bible like they claimed to, they'd know it was cover-to-cover murder.

Then again, this wasn't about what Weston wanted. He was just the running joke at Casper high. He wasn't one of the zealots who praised the heavens for opening and gracing them with the Phantom. He was crazy; after all, why should it matter what he wanted?

That's the thought Wes kept coming back to. As if his brain was a one red-light town and every road led back to the same question and the same solution.

If Danny Fenton died… would this all go away?

The question sat there and stared at him. Stared at him with that same idle and taunting expression that the ghost boy did.

Would everything go away? If even for just a little bit? A couple of days at most?

He sat in the tree at least thirty feet off the earth and let the breeze pass him by. The chill made him aware of the tears on his face that definitely weren't there before. Wes wiped his eyes and rubbed his nose. The moon bounced off his pale, skinny limbs, and he mulled over how he got here. He fiddled with his sweatshirt ties. The red cords were fraying at the ends, the plastic parts having cracked. He pressed them between his thumb and the rest of his fist, spreading the threads even thinner. Twisting.

Why did he have to look at me like that? Like I was dirt?

Why is he so obsessed with Danny Fenton all of a sudden?

How could he be so—

"Easy Shadow, easy. We'll go see our boy soon enough. You have to leave them wanting more." There was a chuckle in the dark.

Drawn to the sound of boots crunching gravel and a voice, Wes peered down from his perch. There was someone below him.

Through the bramble and leaves, what the ex-jock could make out, was a man… and something. Something distinctly inhuman surrounded him. It looked like… slime? Like oil animated and suspended in the air. Whatever it was, it shimmered in the borrowed glow of the moon.

It had teeth.

A lot of teeth. Sharp and pointed, like that of a predator, evolved to kill for the joy of it and not for sustenance.

"Yknow, It's gonna be a real shame about that kid… " The biker continued to muse to himself as he put down his kickstand. Adjusting his long flowing jacket as he went, brushing the dust off his leather clothes. He retrieved a box of cigarettes from his pocket and then a lighter.

Clasping onto the paper roll with his teeth, he flicked the metal wheel a few times before a spark caught the tip.

Exhaling a plume of sour smoke, the stranger spoke hoarsely and with the faintest bit of humor, "He really didn't have to make himself such an easy mark. But walking around like that with the perfect body—?"

He stood up, stretching his arms above his head casually and sighing, "With that whole, 'you gonna finish that?' line— it's like the kid was after my own heart."

The stranger snickered.

"Such a shame…" He shook his head, "No one's gonna even know the difference when we're done."

The shadow gurgled a reply to its master, or what Wes assumed to be its master. It seemed to have a rapport with the man, like a pet. It followed the gestures and waves of the stranger's hand.

"What kind of a name is 'Dash' anyway? We're definitely changing that."

As Wesley leaned to his side, balancing himself between an adjacent branch and the one he was sitting on.

Did he just say—

The tree cracked, disturbing the still atmosphere, sending the residents of said dwelling into the sky with alarm. The pine needles rustled as what Wes initially thought of as a sturdy foothold began to rumble.

The duo on the ground snapped their glares up into the night. The moonlight blew out their eyes. Their scleras glowed white like feral animals caught on a trail cam.

Ghosts.

Holy shit.

Wes held his breath. His lips folded into his mouth to hold back a scream. Sweat caressed the curves of his cheekbone and poured down, down, down off his chin, and to the bark chips below. He clenched his teeth so hard that Wes thought he would somehow break through his jaw.

Please don't see me. Please don't see me. Please don't see me. Please don't—

Crickets and cicadas chirped in the stillness.

"Lay back, Shadow." The man took another drag off his cigarette, turning his gaze to his beast, "I don't wanna keep lover boy waiting."

The comment made Wes' stomach sink. There were thousands of ways he could've interpreted that, but none of them were good.

The man chuckled. His deep voice was like trying to fathom the rolling ocean. Yes, it was serene to a point, but it hid so much. It hid too much. Maybe there was a bottom to it… but not one desirable or one that wouldn't utterly destroy you before reaching it.

"Remember, buddy, if you catch it—" A twig snapped as the biker took a few more steps under the tree's canopy. He knocked on the trunk.

He growled, "You eat it. "

The biker departed. Tossing the filter of his expired cigarette to the side, the embers faded into the seamless dark.

Wes couldn't hear him leave, whether that be because of his heart beating in his ears or because the ghost had shed his physical form.

Maybe he didn't leave. He only wanted to lull Wes into a false sense of security.

There were a few seconds at most where the conspiracy theorist didn't move—just a few seconds of doubt.

A few seconds too many as the sentient black mass darted under the tree.

Cautiously, Wes centered himself on his weakened branch. He got his knees under him and perched on the balls of his feet. The tree replied with another sharp crack. He was getting down one way or another. Let it be through gravity or by his agility.

He was on the clock now.

Hands dove into this center sweatshirt pocket. Finding his field notebook, he tossed it—he found his copy of the ghost hunters' almanac. The written word would do little to help him now. The papers he kept with him only rustled in protest.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!

The thick viscous sound of that animal— that creature— that thing slithering up the tree caused his body to break in goose flesh. It was the sound of the world ending as clouds blotted out all the light. It was the sound of rain falling in reverse. It was the last gasps of the cosmos that no one could perceive in the vacuum of the void.

From the roots, the tree began to tremble as if caught in the middle of a cataclysmic earthquake. He got his back to the wall and limited his window of vulnerability.

It was indescribable. It was the hoofbeats of hell's cavalry.

And it was getting closer.

Futilely Wes called out, "Get back!"

In his panic, the edge of his palm brushed the cool metal of his taser.

Thank god for overnight express shipping.

Unrelenting thoughts racing, Weston realized he never looked up. There was a branch just out of his reach—

The monster wailed in its bottomless hunger. It wove itself into the spaces between the fabric of the bark. Tendrils coiled around the pine needles, and molecule by molecule, the entity rewrote itself into nature as if it weren't a cruel parody. It moved like a disease—Swift as an infection.

All it took was a jump. Just a jump—

Wes snapped his glance from impending doom consuming his foothold to the branch above him. It would be a stretch, but it wasn't like he had any other choice.

Kicking the chip in the branch, more of the white inner flesh became exposed. All it would need is all of his weight coming down on the weak spot.

Knees apart, Wes took the leap.

The branch still persisted.

"C'mon! Dammit!"

One more time, the young man channeled all of his strength to his legs—

The last fibers of the branch snapped with an almost melodic sound. It was so beautiful and terrifying. Terrifying, for a brief moment, he was in the air. He was nothing but mass and matter. One-hundred-twenty pounds of dead weight that hung there in the sky. In anticipation for the nine-point-eight-two per second squared equation of gravity to finish him off.

But Wes caught himself— just barely. Just enough. There was liquid seeping from his hands. Hot and burning.

It wasn't his time yet. There was still work to be done.

Not today.

The impact sent up the gravel in a cloud of dust and the monster down with it.

"Yeah! Bitch! Now you know!" A tight laugh escaped his diaphragm. It punched its way out of him with his victory. He tapped his sweaty forehead on the limb of the tree. Wes repeated to himself, " Now you know ."

His biceps burned as he pulled himself onto the higher hold. He swung his legs and pressed his eroding sneakers against the trunk until he got the upper branch between his thighs. He flipped onto the top side, still trying to catch his breath.

"I-I should've stretched. Whew —" Rolling his shoulders, Wes shuddered.

"Yeah— yeah, I-I definitely pulled something." He ghosted his hand over the stitch in his side, " Aghhh…"

So much ow. Whole lot of ow.

The pulse in his hands only got stronger as warm blood began to rise from his flayed palms. He glared down at his sorry hands. He didn't dare try to make a fist, and he can forget about basketball for—

Wait, what was that?

That awful noise…

Something between an infant trying to form its first words and something being blended between the teeth of an irreparable garbage disposal. The gurgling returned. It was a throaty clicking and rasp of a death row inmate seeing stars in his vision as the injection took hold, as he choked on his own bile. That sound. That awful sound.

It was so close. It was practically all he could hear.

But where is it?!

Then the death rattle evolved into an ear-shattering squeal. Like Wes had left the calm serenity of Amity Park's forest and entered the killing floor of a meat farm. The breath of the monster was as thick as blood and rotting meat. He could hear the links of chain beating against the stained floor as they raised the carcasses to the ceiling. Wes could hear it all despite shutting his eyes tight and using both of his hands to block it out. It's what he would do during thunderstorms or if the curtain plagued his tired mind with shapes of someone that meant him harm. It was all he could do. Close his eyes and pray.

Oh, God, no.

The needles in the tree rustled in weak protest as the dark being darted in and out of the gaps, working in a whirlwind to tie the living down. The spots of green withered into ash, decaying into nothing.

It had latched itself onto the bottom of Wes' shoe like mud, and it chilled every nerve and cell in his body. The stain only grew and grew at an illogical panic-inducing pace. Its spread was uncontrollable. It clouded his vision. It eclipsed him. The Shadow contorted Wes's body against his will.

Forcing Wes to pulverize himself.

It didn't want him. Shadow didn't want Wes. Johnny didn't want Wes. So, it would kill him. It would stop when Wes's remains were no longer entertaining.

Nobody wanted Wes.

It was a few more moments after Wes's abrupt landing before someone said anything.

"Oh, great, that's exactly what this situation needed. Another dead child…" Stephen gestured to the body of the high schooler in front of them. He was tempted to poke the boy with his shoe to see if he would twitch.

The Phantom's initial startle had sent him skyward. He had jumped six feet out of his skin and floated there. Danny didn't say a word. Not even scolding the senior ghost for his barb disguised as levity.

Ghostwriter turned his glance toward his ward, it was unfocused but still burning, "Friend of yours?"

Still gawking at the young living on the ground, it took Danny a few moments to register that Wes was unconscious. That wasn't unsurprising, he did fall from a tree for god's sake—but seeing him there on the ground…

It didn't feel good. There was a pang of unidentifiable emotion that pulled at him. It pulled and kept pulling him further into his memories he was better off abandoning. Guilt? Was that it? Why did it hurt to look at Wes this way? Barely Wes's chest was still moving. The subtle rise of his lungs expanding was the only thing tipping the scales in his favor.

Unnerved that his companion who had talked his ear off the entire journey to this point, Stephen snapped, "Daniel!"

The Phantom's voice exited his body with no coherency. He made a noise but it wasn't a word. It was just in acknowledgement that the other party said something. Danny had dropped from his flight, and landed on the ground jostling from one foot to the other. He moved to his classmate with hesitation. Danny wasn't sure he could do anything to help, but something compelled him to try anyway.

His approach was curious, cautious, and excruciatingly slow.

Lowering himself, Danny tried to sift through thousands of questions and thoughts that all seemed important but held no weight like smoke. Scouring the recesses of his mind for any faint flash of the article Sam made him read for how to treat concussions. Anything he retained from health about first-aid.

Anything… anything at all.

Selfishly, the Phantom had made the assumption he was indestructible. He didn't think he needed to know. There were better uses of his time. For the life of him, Danny couldn't tell you what those uses were now. Off playing video games and screwing around. Not paying any attention yet again. Now his mind was painfully blank.

"What's going on out there?"

His sister's voice brought him back to reality.

"I— Jazz— I-I need you to read me off the steps on how to revive an unconscious person!"

The static crackled across his ear piece, "Wh—"

"Now! Jazz, tell me what to do! I found Weston… I found…" The Phantom trailed off uselessly, his voice was quivering like he was that scared boy in the basement again, " He's hurt real bad, Jazz. "

For all the posturing, for all the bravado— this was the creature everyone in the zone was so terrified of? Stephen crinkled his nose at the scene. The elder would have been so bold as to call the sight… tender.

Ever still woozy and boozy— Stephen had exhaled a burp. He took a respite under the tree, hunching over. The ghost tried to rationalize that he no longer had functioning organs so he did not need to be nauseous but this did little to elivate the feeling. The living world would remind him with no sympathy that he was supposed to be rotting worm food, and by existing in this plane all he was doing was hurting himself.

Why would Johnny choose to subject himself to this willingly? Surely he wasn't that sentimental about this little town.

As Stephen widened his stance and kept his head towards his chest, that's when he saw it.

A book.

A hardback book just sitting face open in the dirt. An unassuming brown leather tome. The cover was upside down or— or Stephen was a little more than half-in-the-bag. He picked it up, and brushed the debris away from the cover. As his marble like eyes scanned the serious typeface to make sense of it, the Ghostwriter began to cackle—

The Ghost Hunter's Almanac, Written by Edna Wickett.

The kid was a ghost hunter! Of course! Irony seems to follow the Phantom just as closely as the shadow of death.

Danny ripped his head away from his task and to his elder, "What's so funny?!"

"A ghost hunter! The boy's a ghost hunter." Stephen guffawed, slapping his forehead with the heel of his palm. His clawed fingers tangled with his curly black hair.

"If you're just gonna stand there and not be any help— can you shut up?!" The Phantom glared at the drunk, trying to find his sister's calm and level voice again.

Danny did as she said with no room for error, listening for a heart beat, seeing if Wes's airway was blocked, it was obvious she was reading off of a website but it was more resources Danny had at the moment. By his unprofessional opinion, Wes was fine— just asleep and banged up. Really banged up.

Danny pleaded with his sister, "Is… is there nothing I can do?"

"... I'd maybe call an ambulance?" Jasmine offered gently, "If Wes' not up and walking around within a few minutes. Just to make sure he did sustain a neck or spinal injury?"

Danny's gloved hand ghosted around his own throat when she posed that option. He blinked rapidly and swallowed. He really hoped it wasn't a neck injury.

"I-I can't leave him here. We can't… No hospitals …" Danny couldn't imagine a good outcome if he were to drop off Wes on the doorstep of the emergency room.

He gripped the living teen by the shoulders and softly shook him, quietly whispering pleas and demands that fell on deaf ears.

Stephen leafed through the book. Curling each page around his claws. It was well-loved. Frantic notes in the margins and highlighter ink that bled through the worn page. The information didn't seem to bridge any gaps, or enlighten the older specter on anything new. He had seen this book in his library as well. The opening passage was etched into his brain.

In regards to the recently deceased… They are to be treated with the utmost respect because at one point they were our friends, our neighbors, our parents, our siblings, our lovers, our children. Soon we will join the choir. It is not a matter of if, but when. This book is to be a guide to navigate the uneven rocky terrain between birth and death. This book is also a warning to those who are not satisfied with answers provided. A warning that must be heeded. Unless you wish to be adopted early into the choir of hollow voices.

Still chuckling, the undead-shut-in took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes, "I don't understand you." His shoulders bounced with his stifled reaction, "I really don't. Why do you… why do you try so hard ?"

"What're you talking about?" Danny barked.

"You know better than anyone that these— People —" The way the author wielded the word you would have mistaken it for poison.

The elder ghost spat, "These people aren't worth the effort ."

"I knew that when I was alive!" He tossed the book at Danny's side.

The book landed with its covers clattering. The Phantom didn't flinch. He knew what it was.

" Stop it, " Danny replied solemnly. He fidgeted uncomfortably. Caught between a lie, or a statement he simply didn't believe. But he wanted to. Danny wanted to believe that Ghostwriter was wrong.

"We're petty, and stupid— so, unbelievably stupid—" Stephen slurred, "Small, and cruel ."

He exhaled breathlessly, "And it only gets worse when we die."

"It only gets worse ."

Danny said nothing. He only listened. Replaying that look on Dash's face. That terrified look kept replaying on the backs of his eyelids. Biting the inside of his mouth, the Phantom was caught between punishment and atonement. As if somehow they were the same thing.

"But that's what I can't stand about you, boy—" Stephen braced his palm against the trunk of the tree, the colors of his form only saturating with his anger, "You think you're better than us. You think you're above it. Don't you?"

The Phantom couldn't conjure a reply. It was better to stay in silent denial, than to keep lying. It was getting harder to breathe, the blockage in his throat refused to wilt. Jazz's voice was in one ear, and Stephen was in the other.

"Don't you?!" Stephen exploded, forming a fist and scratching his nails down the thick skin of the tree, "You deny what you are, and for what?! You think these people actually care about you?!"

He scoffed, "The Phantom of Amity Park! They love you in the same way they love a caged bear. They love you because they fear you. They would feed you their young if you asked and fear the consequences if they didn't follow through. You think they're smart enough to know the difference between a good ghost and a bad one? Yeah, if that's what helps you sleep at night, Daniel—" Ghostwriter mocked his younger, " Congratulations , they love you."

Giving a slight turn of his head, Danny's hateful eyes found the Ghostwriter, his chest heaved with his growing fury, "Got anything else on your chest, old man?"

"You're still an animal." Stephen growled, "And animals need to eat. And you're starving by pretending to be noble."

Brow only knitting, and shoulders tensing— The ghost boy seethed.

"Oh my god, you don't know!" Stephen inclined his head in disbelief, his grey skin dewy with perspiration and reflecting the moonlight. He exclaimed in mutter, "Of course! Of course you don't know."

The Ghostwriter put into small words for the child, "Ghosts are evil. Intrinsically. We are not a part of the ecosystem. Ghosts feed off of misery. So we create it. Wherever we go we hurt people, because that's what keeps us here. We exist as blunt instruments— reduced to repeating patterns and base primal instincts. That's why I never wanted to leave the Ghost Zone…" Stephen watched his physical form jitter and flicker. He stared at his hand, and tried to keep his anger at the forefront of his mind. It was the only thing that anchored him here.

"That's why you're hesitating. Isn't it? It's why you're paralyzed. It's why you're leaving him there in the dirt—to suffer—because you're feeding—"

The gravel shifted as the Phantom's boots agitated the ground as he turned between his two points of focus, "The only thing you should be concerned about, Stephen , is staying out of my way…"

Danny exhaled several glowing cyan wisps from his throat, "You talk too much. Way too much for a man who can't fight his battles."

As the boy snapped back to treating the living, the Ghostwriter could barely perceive the light trail that followed Danny's awful piercing stare. A stare few forget and even fewer survive. The ghost boy exhaled an affirmation only for himself, "I'm not evil."

A toothy smirk curled into the book-keeper's cheek, and it tinted his voice, "And you'd be the judge of that… wouldn't you?'

Over the ear piece, the ghost boy could hear the distinct rattle of a phone vibrating against his sister's desk.

"Wh-why is Dash calling me right now?" Jazz said in between mumblings and rereadings of the article in front of her.

Without thinking, Danny blurted out, "Wait— Wait! Don't answer that! You need to focus and help me—"

"What if it's an emergency?" Her voice collided with her brother's. Jazz didn't let her panic become anything other than background noise, however everything seemed to be happening all at once without rhyme or reason, "Dash'd never call me like this out of the blue, what if it's a ghost attack?"

"Jazz, whatever you do— don't answer that—" Was all the younger sibling could say in the absence of another lie. Danny was desperate for any excuse to keep his sister away from hearing just how screwed up he actually is. Reflexively he clapped over his mouth.

It was the last question he wanted to hear. It was a razor slice around the curve of his quivering, gasping throat, leaving him to bleed out. There was a beat of silence, a beat where Jazz debated if she really needed to know the answer. Her voice was clear amongst the compression of the device, Jasmine asked, "...Why?"

Too overwhelmed with trying to breathe, focusing on not losing whatever semblance of control he had, Danny didn't answer her. He couldn't answer. Preoccupied with not collapsing and breaking into a thousand pieces right here in the dark. He gulped down lungfuls of air but he was still drowning— he knew he didn't need to breathe, it offered no relief like how it did when he was alive. Helpless. Helpless and heavy. Everything was so heavy and closing in on him—

"...Wh-what did…" Jasmine stuttered out, "What did you do, Danny?"

Swollen eyelids fluttering open, Wes stirred. His thin legs began to draw towards his center. His worn sneakers kept worthlessly scratching against the dirt. The ginger moaned in pain, as he summoned all his strength to his arms to prop himself up.

"Hey—Hey, man, hey take it easy." Danny croaked out, "Do-do you r-remember your name and where you are?"

"Fenton…?" Wes blinked his eyes before holding his presumably pounding head into his hands. Weston's vision was waning, but his hearing was pitch-clear-as-a-church-bell-perfect apparently.

"Well, uh, that's uh— that's me technically." The ghost boy replied, with an anxious flutter to his voice. Hoping his creeping panic attack wasn't obvious.

The living teen kicked, and thrashed away, causing a cloud of dust to rise around him. Wes the end of the cut volatile wire with no grounding agent. Danny could almost see how his lungs kept fighting against Wes' chest muscles. Wes shuddered and twitched, he was scared but his anger—? His anger was blinding. Wes snarled, "Fenton!"

Danny wanted to set their petty rivalry aside for a moment, "You took a really nasty fall ther—"

A searing jolt hit the ghost boy's core. His abdominal muscles convulse and flexed wildly without any permission. His body racked with pins and needles. Fire ignited in his blood as his body rebelled against the sensation. Danny's torso hit the ground next.

Coughing, the ghost boy peered up at Wes, holding a device engulfed in blue static in his hand.

"What the hell's the big idea— huh?!" Wes dialed up the wattage of his pocket taser, "Wh-what the hell did you do to me while I was knocked out, you—you freak?!"

Danny spat some grains of sand from his teeth, "That—That, really , h-hurt."

"—Fuck yourself, Fenton," Wes rose to his knees, huffing the entire time, "What's your angle, asshole?!"

"I… I-I di-didn't do any-anything to you," Danny kept repeating. Drool began to exit from his numb face. Two pale rings sprung free from the undead-teen's ribcage. The last of his strength extinguished, Fenton kept writhing as if his back was being used as a butcher's block.

Wes' expression dropped, as he slowly enunciated, " Bull. "

The ex-jock gestured to his face and then the motorcycle, "You invite a couple friends down here, then what? What're you planning? You wanna Hijack some bodies, what for?"

When Danny didn't answer right away, Weston raised the taser above his head—

A hand had clasped around the living boy's wrist. Black claws contrasted Wes's pale flesh. The intense pressure Stephen put on the teen's arm was enough to bruise.

Ghostwriter's face split in two as he let out a devastating wail, " GO AWAY ."

The author's jaw dislocated and fell, and kept falling. It stretched beyond all physical reason. Wes could see into Stephen's gaping mouth curtained with pointed teeth, he could nearly see into his empty stomach. Grey rotted skin barely held Ghostwriter's bones in place.

Wes stumbled back. He stumbled, eyes wide with horror. The young man scrambled and bolted from the scene.

There was a loud crack. Danny assumed this was Stephen setting his mouth back into place. There was a wet click, as the elder specter regained control over his forked tongue.

The Ghostwriter sighed, hearing the haphazard footfalls of the young man tearing away into the night like a spooked deer. He lowered his glance to Danny's hobbled form.

"A resilient little cuss, isn't he?" He adjusted his cardigan and glasses, "I suppose you've both got that in common."

It was lunchtime at Casper high again. Nothing remarkable on the menu today. Something unrecognizable to the human taste palette, yet the school still charged four dollars for. Some chose to forgo the whole thing entirely. Some would eat in their classrooms or the rooms of their favorite clubs. Some wouldn't eat at all if they could help it.

Often the seniors and those with cars just went to the gas station down the hill to get their bags full of all the name-brand junk food they could find. From the track field, the quarterback could see the platoons of cars depart, and students eagerly get their fix. He halted in the middle of his lap, checking his pulse. Pressing his fingers to his throat, he felt his heart struggling to keep up with the rest of his body— just under the pads of his fingers.

At least one-ninety, Baxter decided.

In a glance, he saw the painted lines on the asphalt become vacant as cars peeled out of the exit. Dash blinked and what was beyond the chain link fence that rattled was empty. He was surrounded by emptiness. Sweat cascaded down his body; it clung tightly like a second skin. It burned his eyes. Dash closed them again and cleaned himself off.

What he wouldn't give for just a little rain. The clouds had been heavy and welcoming, but it proved nothing more than to be meteorological red herring. It was pointless to think humans could predict anything. We're just making sense of a world much bigger than us, after all. A world much older and wiser than us. We assigned meaning to such patterns because we were the first to record them. The cold hard truth of it is that the universe is chaotic and, therefore, meaningless.

His heart was beating so hard— he could feel it travel up his spine. Thrumming in his brain stem, as if the momentum would rip him apart. Dash exhaled a breath he didn't know he had been holding, "...Rough start."

It was just like this last night. When he saw the ghost kid standing there. In his room.

There was no point in lingering on it.

He was something of an icon for students at Amity Park. Something about him spoke to the unseen and undying boiling anger in the hearts of teenagers. Anger was the keyword. The Phantom was hardly invested in being a hero. It was more so an obligation than a genuine goal of his. Some were just glad The Phantom was on their 'side.'

…

No one liked it when you pointed out that there weren't any sides. They just wanted to assume ownership of the 'good' ghost. No one wanted to think what would happen if the Phantom one day decided he wasn't a people-person anymore.

There was nothing Dash could have done to stop him. You don't contain a force of nature; you just… pray. This was a ghost town. It's best not to argue that with them. There were theories, of course, but Dash didn't much believe in any of them. That's all anyone had in Amity Park. None of them really stood up under scrutiny.

The ghosts were pieces of people repeating patterns from displaced periods of time. This theory seemed to absolve all the creatures of guilt or even liability for the harm they did to the living.

That one was quite popular with the intellectual head type thinkers. But nothing about last night was routine or ordinary. In fact, the reason why it was terrifying was because the Phantom never did stuff like that. At least to anyone else. Dash believed in concepts he could touch, grasp, and feel, but he didn't trust ghosts as far as he could throw them. Which unsurprisingly wasn't very far. Spirits led to many loaded questions no one wanted to think about. Amity Park citizens were confronted with the inevitably of death every single time they opened their front doors.

Ghosts were the victims of violent or unjustified deaths. Dash would scoff at this like it was a poor joke. Okay. If that's all, it took, explain what happened to the ghosts of those in any war ever? Being something of a hopeless romantic in love with the earth and the people on it— there was the unspoken other side of the coin Dash typically fronted with. The utter pessimism that with the ability to love gives you just equal depth to hate just as hard. Baxter wouldn't admit it so much out loud, but his bitterness came from a place of being so infatuated with people that you hate them for hurting each other. He didn't want to believe that somehow that need to hurt others persisted. Maybe love neutralized that pain, or perhaps it made that hurt more tolerable. We could just be destined to hurt each other no matter what. It's probably why Dash would rather be alone. It's probably why we strive to find the one person it's okay to hurt over and over again.

That's what people do best. Break each other's hearts.

Is that what I have to look forward to when I die?

Maybe this was just projection on his part, but— Dash knew physical pain was such an ephemeral concept. You could outlive pain. You grow from it. You channel that energy somewhere else. Pain was mortal. That was the athlete's perspective, wasn't it? It was the ability to take your hurt and rage into your body effortlessly as if absorbing poison.

Perhaps the ghosts just had unfinished affairs in the living plane.

No theory ever seemed to fit perfectly. It was as if they were all popping seams.

The horrible truth was that gave Dash a knot in his throat. They were all ghost stories in the making.

He opened his eyes and stretched his neck. Looking over his shoulder again to the parking lot. There was a motorcycle in one of the spaces close to the fence. With his leather duster barely grazing the ground below him, the man stood out.

When did he even pull up? Why didn't I hear the engine?

…

There was this pang in his chest, and his blood ran cold.

The man from the woods yesterday. That man… that man sat on top of the machine. He flashed the quarterback a toothy smile and a wave.

Hesitantly, Dash waved back. More accurately, he lifted his hand in acknowledgment of the biker's presence.

Taking two fingers, the man stuck them in his mouth and whistled so wolfishly it echoed across the field.

Well, he's persistent. Shouldn't he be a creep on his own campus?

Dash rigidly walked back towards the main building, quickly stopping by the benches to gather up his jacket and books.

From the fence, Dash could hear the husky voice of the man from the woods call out, "Aw, leavin' so soon, superstar? C'mon, don't be shy!"

Baxter said nothing as he put an arm through his letter jacket. This school had to get better security.

Kwan, whose nose was stuffed deep into a geometry textbook, wearily asked, "Can we please get something to eat? I'm starting to see triangles when I close my eyes."

The metal risers creaked under while the linebacker fidgeted. He seemed unaware of anyone besides the two of them on the field.

Running a hand through his hair, Dash hastily agreed to the solution that would get them the hell out of there as fast as possible. He nodded, "Yeah, yeah, I just need to change out of my gym clothes."

"Are you okay?" Kwan detected the hurried tone.

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it." Baxter pulled his friend along, believing there was strength in numbers, "Let's just get a move on before the line gets too long."

Maybe the man would leave if he could see the kind of people Dash really hung around with. The quarterback would say it was unlike him to be scared, but that would be a lie. Dash knew whatever that guy was up to; it was no good. He was peppering on compliments and flattery to get something from Dash. What that 'something' was, remained to be seen— but Baxter was not sticking around to find out.

"It's nothing, or I shouldn't worry about it?" Kwan picked up their bags, carrying both his and his best friend's books under his arm. However, he was still being dragged along by his superior.

"Dash, Dash, easy, dude!" Kwan pried his friend's wrist off his bicep as soon as they were in the safety of the gymnasium.

"Sorry…" Baxter said.

Kwan's brow pinched in the middle, "Are you sure you okay? Do you, like, maybe want to call your doctor to—?"

"I-I'm fine… just, spooked, I guess." Dash slowed as he reached the locker room door, holding it open for his friend so they could continue their conversation. "But I promise, everything is under control."

Without a better word, Kwan was a good friend because he made Dash feel safe. He didn't ever want to do anything that would compromise that feeling of safety between them.

"You came to my house, drenched in sweat like you just ran a marathon, and you threw up in the yard." Kwan shook his head and bounced the door off his shoulder. His tone was flat, just repeating the facts, following his friend to the lockers.

Dash's eyes fell slightly as he wrestled out of his gym shirt, "I'll replace the wonky flamingo I destroyed with my stomach acid."

"That's not the point, and you know it." Kwan crossed his arms. He watched Dash to ensure he didn't blindly punch himself in his hurry, "You never actually told me what happened last night."

Hunched over by his locker, the captain was just stripping off his first layers and reorganizing his lockers. He reapplied his deodorant.

"It was just… nerves, s'all." The athlete fumbled with the cap and stick, "It's hard being the quarterback in a school where the leading cause of our failure is somethin' called the 'quarterback curse'."

"Is it those snobby Elmerton douchebags?" Kwan threw out the suggestion, prodding for any answer, "Did they jump you or something?"

"No," Dash said tersely. Pulling on his black shirt that he wore last night. Thankfully, it didn't smell like puke. Kwan's mom was nice enough to make sure the kid got his clothes taken care of.

Slapping the tops of the lockers, Kwan was getting frustrated, "Did Wes say something to you?"

The quarterback's face was tense but neutral. Not giving a single indication of his thoughts. He stared hard into the crimson surface as if the metal would start to warp. Barely moving his lips, then just to breathe and say, "Wes and I have nothing to talk to each other about as far as I'm concerned."

Kwan sighed, "Your shirt's on backwards there, Patrick Bateman ."

"Goddamnit."

Electing to look at the wall, so his captain could fix himself, Byun-Ji barred his arms over his chest and leaned back on the bench, "Sue me for caring about your stupid ass. But you're really starting to scare me. So just… tell me that this is the worst of it, and you'll be fine."

Kwan didn't mean to sound so… desperate, but he tacked on an additional caveat, "Can you do that for me, Dash?" Even quieter, Byun-Ji demanded, "Please?"

Baxter knew what his friend was asking for was impossible. What the entire world was asking of Dash just wasn't in his ability to do. He couldn't be 'normal.' He was cracked into so many different facets that Dash couldn't recognize the original anymore. The schism deep within himself was only eroding further and further into nothingness. The Dash Baxter Kwan needed may have existed one point years ago, but… truthfully, Dash has forgotten which traits he's stitched to his eclectic tapestry of people he's become. The leader, the golden child, the one everyone pins their hope to, the canary in the coal mine—

Then the pendulum swings back. He's Mr Johnny football hero. He's every cliche in the book; he's the big bad wolf.

The quarterback wanted off the ride. He wanted to disappear. He was terrified of the day someone got too close to realize how rough the patch-ups were.

Smoothing out his shirt over his stomach, Dash agreed, "Everything's under control."

"That's not what I wanted to hear, but I'll take it." Kwan raised his hands up in surrender before slapping his thighs, "I'm gonna name my first grey hairs after you, y'know that knucklehead?"

Unceremoniously, Baxter hopped into his sweats, covering his shorts with them, chuckling while cinching his waist with the black drawstrings in the band. The lock clicked back into place—

Picking up the letterman, Kwan's eyes caught the bright red patch just above the elbow. The saying on it was applicable 'Fragile! Handle with Care!'

Cocking a brow, Byun-Ji had this incredulous expression.

Snatching it away, Dash shook his head and muttered an explanation, "it's an inside joke with a couple of friends…"

The linebacker said nothing as he migrated to the locker room door.

However, that heavy door burst open suddenly.

Both boys startled in place.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Weston put his back into shoving the heavy drab door out of his way, using all the strength in his thin and brittle body to get inside.

Neither Kwan nor Dash said anything, despite Wes's careworn stare.

It didn't occur to him until after they stopped being friends, but Baxter couldn't stand it when Wes looked at him. His green eyes bore too close of a resemblance to the Phantom's. It was such a superficial reason— but it was the truth. Dash didn't like to look at him.

"Yeah, don't get up, assholes." Wes exhaled.

He always looked sleep-deprived, but today? God, it was as if he got socked in the face by a pitching machine. His eyes were swollen and purple— leaking discharge of some kind. Little nicks were on his face, which he didn't seem to bother covering. It was like he went one to apeshit with a cheese grater on his skin. A large cut across the bridge of his nose was barely contained within a thin butterfly bandage.

"Jesus, Weston—" Kwan exclaimed and winced.

Dash took a moment to compose himself, "What— what happened to you?"

The sounds of his high tops squeaked against the concrete.

Naturally, Wes wanted to roll his eyes but obviously could not. He shuffled to the sinks to wash his face. He muttered something to the effect of, "Do you want the truth, or do you want the version you're comfortable with?"

There was a beat of silence as Wes stared at them from the restroom area. He turned the faucet on, "I fell out of a tree."

Kwan decided to humor him for a moment, "Did you get any good pictures before you fell? Preferably of that one house, they rent for porno?"

Dash's expression got all folded and irritated at his linebacker's comment.

Coughing, Wes smiled sarcastically, "You wish."

The football players stood awkwardly and fumbled with their belongings for a moment. It got quiet again. What were they supposed to say?

Dash offered with a weak gesture of his hand. Like he was reaching out but couldn't commit to it. As if the commitment was too great. He was reaching out because the bridge of their connection was still actively burning; it wasn't too late for them to save each other.

He quietly instructed without any warmth in his voice, "... You should increase your vitamin c intake over the next few days. It helps you heal faster. Try not to sleep on your side if you can help it. Wrap a towel around your neck to keep yourself in place."

"This isn't my first time being punched in the face, Baxter." Wes splashed some water on himself.

"Just figured you'd want the advice of the leading expert on being punched in the face, Weston," The quarterback shrugged, fiddling with the strap on his book bag.

Wrinkling up his face, Wes pried the bandaids off one by one, turning the surface of the porcelain sink red. He winced, "Keep your eyes on your own work, Baxter. Try not to screw it up this weekend, okay?"

Kwan opened his clenched jaw to say something to Dash's defense but was called off.

"Try to keep your nose clean, alright, Atlas?"

'Stay alive,' Was what Dash meant to say.

Why couldn't they say, 'I care about you'?

'Don't do anything stupid.'

Softening at the nickname, Wes traced the lines on his face. He nodded, "No promises."

Without another word, the pair departed, leaving their classmate to his own devices. What else could they have done? Forced him to the nurses' office? Make him go home? It was clear that whatever his goal was this time, it wouldn't be achieved unless everyone saw. What did unstable people ever want? Attention? Mission accomplished.

Dash didn't know what was in his heart in regards to Weston. Not pity. Not anything positive.

As the football players navigated the turns out of the gym and across the courtyard. The blond passed his palms over the foliage. His fingers caught on the twigs and leaves. Thoughts passing to what Wes said yesterday…

What the hell did he mean by that?

Dash was in danger every single day of his life—

He exhaled at this, though his stress only seemed to sink further into his being.

The cafeteria was amok with underclassmen. The lines hadn't entirely spiraled out of control yet. The menu was some kind of food item. Foodstuff, Dash believed that was the technical term. He couldn't remember the last time he actually looked at a sloppy joe, let alone actually consume one. The cafeteria offered plenty of health-conscious options. Extremely sparse salads. Damp broccoli that was supposed to be steamed. Cut carrots. Some kind of chicken that inspired indifference.

Kwan grabbed a tray for both of them out of habit.

And out of habit, Dash followed along. A routine he had done so often that it was practically muscle memory. It no longer felt like a conscious choice when he spoke up with his order.

Food was complicated.

It's probably a little silly, but Dash couldn't help but think about his favorite food. Eclairs. They were nostalgic. He would split them on the couch with his mother while they watched television. She'd put them in the freezer beforehand so it would make the soft stuff softer. The outside would melt against your tongue, and the cream would escape.

He'd also say tomato soup. Not for any particular reason. Probably because it was the only thing he could cook without screwing up. Canned tomato soup required very little, just the stove to get it going. It was sweet and thick and warmed your chest.

Dash yearned for the days of simplicity but then came the hypocrisy in the form of pancakes. The breakfast people most associated with mistakes and failure. Pancakes were never perfect or circular. They were messy and sticky. The hassle never seemed worth it until it did.

Baked potatoes reminded him of barbecues during the summer. Potatoes were something shared with everyone, chips, fries— it was stock food that stuck to your ribs. They kept you alive when nothing else did. They could be cooked so many different ways they hardly held a resemblance to its original form.

The woman behind the counter in the clear hairnet clicked her tongs and dropped a number of cold vegetables on his organized plate.

Another woman dropped a ladle of chili and mystery meat onto Kwan's plate with white bread.

Dash had trained himself to become nauseous at the scent of grease. His stomach lurched, and bile bit at his throat.

Their usual table in the center of it all. This was done so the A-listers could survey their kingdom. Little did they know their panopticon was only an illusion. They were the natural spectacle. Even when the gods sat high on mount Olympus, they were only as real as the public believed in them. And like those parables of mythology, they were studied, compounded for their flaws despite their responsibilities. As if they didn't suffer from the same sickness as mortals— desirous of everything. Grasping onto things they weren't supposed to have.

High school blows.

It was a fun house with no real theme, just mirrors.

When Dash thought about eclairs, he thought about Danny. It was a natural thought progression of things Dash should not have. He thought about elementary school. He thought about the day he tackled Danny when he wasn't expecting it. Grass stains on both their shirts and faces.

There wasn't so much thinking involved in that process. Just energy that needed to go somewhere.

"Kwan, could I ask you something?" Dash didn't look up from his food tray, only pushing it around with his fork.

The linebacker in question slapped a hand on his captain's back, "Of course. Your mileage may vary, but anything you need. Thank you for choosing Byun-Ji; how may I be of service?"

Dash untensed and rolled his shoulders. Not fully relaxed but approximating it. He cautioned with a laugh, "Um… I'm not really sure how to ask this… but uh, y-you've kissed people before, right?"

A wide smirk broke out across Kwan's face. Amused didn't even begin to describe the near devilish expression that became affixed to his features. Nodding slow, Byun-Ji pointedly agreed, "Yeah?"

"Forget it." Exhaling suddenly through his nose, Dash decided against it, "It's stupid; forget I said anything."

Grabbing his water bottle, Dash could only attempt to drown himself from here. It's not like he could un-ask—

Poking his captain, Kwan all but demanded the details, "Oh, no—no, you've been sketchy and twitchy all week, and you're telling me it's because you've met a girl?!"

Hiking up his shoulders around his ears and fumbling to make himself smaller— Baxter muttered, embarrassed, "There's no girl."

"Tell me everything, dude! What year? What club?" Suggestively the linebacker added with a wiggle of his brows, " Measurements?"

Uh, sophomore, no extracurriculars whatsoever— oh, yeah— and a guy.

"It's not like that ."

"I can't believe you didn't mention this last night! You know my parents are gonna want to meet her— I think they're more invested in your marriage prospects than mine." Kwan grabbed the quarterback's shoulders in an effort to entice more information out of him. However, he was met with silence.

The linebacker leaned on his serious face and bridged his fingers over his face in mock dramatics, "I knew God would answer our prayers about your lack of hoes."

Dash raised his brows and deadpanned, "Har har."

Okay, when astonishment or mockery wouldn't get him anywhere, the duke of Casper high knew when to call in the heavy artillery. Removing his aviators from his pocket with the practiced motion of a federal agent, Kwan solemnly stated, "We have ways of making you talk."

Eyes blown wide— Dash waved his hands in a declarative motion, but it was too late.

Taking a sharp inhale, Byun-Ji kicked up his feet onto the bench. The linebacker leaned on his captain, crushing him with his mass into the corner wall and subduing his protests. Kwan cupped his hands along his mouth to make a megaphone and yelled, "YO! POLLY-POCKET AND HER BAND OF MERRY POMPOMS, GUESS WHO'S GETTIN' HIS V-CARD PUNCHED!?"

The entire cafeteria turned their heads to the noise. Some laughed— actually, correction— a lot laughed. The student body loved their daily dose of A-lister Antics. It gave them something to speculate on in their free time. And by God, when the ghosts didn't attack, students had a lot of free time.

"Kwan, I swear to— I'm gonna kill ya!" Dash shoved against his would-be subordinate, though it was impossible. Kwan was in a totally different weight class. He was fitfully grabbing fistfuls of clothing, hoping to either pull his friend off or slip out of the pin, though no such luck.

This earned the blond a noogie, "Tell me you aren't this bad at talking a girl out of her bra too?"

With a furious groan, Dash knew better than to fight it. He rode out the sharp knuckles grinding into his scalp and fussing up his hair.

Next thing Baxter knew, he was being held nearly horizontally in a headlock, Kwan practically dragging him across the bench. Then he was watching a platoon of kitten-pump pink heels clicking across the dusty linoleum towards their lunch table.

"You have gossip for me, Kwan-cakes?"

Barf.

No one in their right minds would say that Kwan and Paulina were dating. It was more like she was using him to upset her dad, and Kwan could still flirt with anything that showed any interest. The pair seemed to have a mutual contract instead of a relationship. Or perhaps this is just what relationships were to them. Maybe there was a feeling of faint affection and gravitational pull that drew them together. Though boy-girl arrangements never seemed to be Dash's area of expertise. Byun-Ji would often claim to have the best girlfriend ever; Paulina would, in turn, show him off like a prized-show-pony. They never seemed to fight. They liked being around each other clearly. But there was never anything more than that. Their relationship was… primarily gathered by subtext. It was confusing. They were close. Kwan and Paulina were in the way your elbow and tongue were close. Like something about it just didn't quite line up.

Why can't I have that? Why can't I have a fraction of what they have?

It was a more enviable teenage confusion than what Dash was working through.

The head cheerleader set down her burgundy lunch tray and took a seat across from her boys. Her legion of followers did the same thing, each acting as a limb of their host—simply an extension of her brain. If Ms Sanchez needed some napkins, faceless cheerleader number six would be passing up the chain of command. The girls came in near surgical organized lines and fanned out to find any and all available seating. Forcefully nudging lesser students out of their way.

Efficiently, Paulina tore open the plastic utensils that came with her lunch—for some reason, Dash always pictured her future career as being a courtroom stenographer. It was the way she tucked her flat-ironed hair around the curve of her ears and showed off the delicate pink pearl earring in her lobes. Something about it screamed Law and Order . She just needed those kitschy bright red cat-eye glasses—though good luck getting her out of her puka shell jewelry and tattoo choker. She wasn't trendy; she wasn't capturing a moment—Paulina was the moment.

"They were out of those black and white cookies you like, so I just got you two brownies—that okay?" Sanchez asked with a sickly sweet smile to her beaux.

Dash was now imagining blowing his brains out, in case you were wondering.

Happily, the linebacker snatched up the pastries from his cheerleader, finally releasing Baxter.

"First things first, Dash, not every girl likes kissing, so don't worry if you suck at it." Sanchez delivered this charitable donation with about as much passive aggression as possible.

Somehow this is worse than if my parents were to give me dating advice.

"Yeah, if she's anything like Paulina, she'll hate kissing. So just stick to, like, stuff you're confident in. Oh, practice on your hand or like—"

Dash interrupted, "Please, God alive, do not finish that statement."

Arriving fashionably late, Star took her rightful seat across from Dash as she was his cheerleader.

This day keeps getting better and better.

"What's up about Dash's virginity?" Star queried, a bit too loudly for comfort.

Why did I know that was gonna be the first thing out of her mouth?

"Uh, still intact." The quarterback said awkwardly. He was discrete in wanting to shrink to a speck of dust on the atomic level and never be seen by human eyes again.

Robinson smiled, "Oh… that's, uh, good?" She paused to read his growing pained expression, "or uh, I'm sorry?"

Kill me, kill me, kill me.

"Yep." Dash was practically scarlet. His entire body became pink. You could fry an egg on his forehead with the power of pure mortification.

Kwan snickered, "He's got a girlfriend."

"I really don't," Baxter retorted defensively.

"Then why're you asking for kissing tips?" The linebacker was boisterous and slapped the table with an open palm.

"I dunno, just felt like taking a survey! What's it to you?!" Dash weakly shoved him away.

Paulina speedily got through her disclaimer before placing a single leaf of salad into her mouth with precision and poise, "You have to tell us who she is, so I can tell you why she can do better."

"Is that why you didn't have your jacket yesterday?" Kwan badgered some more, hoping to shake out some information.

"Scandalous…" Paulina purred

Dash only groaned in response, burying his burning face in his hands.

"Guys, don't tease him too hard," Star whined, "He's gonna pop a gasket."

"That's not the only thing he's popped— look, he's wearing a promise ring—!" Snatching His right hand, Sanchez directed everyone's attention to the gold band adorning Dash's ring finger.

"Oh no, this is actually a funny story…"

…This drifter gave me a ring because we shared cigarettes— and, wow, that's way too many red flags.

Dash rephrased, "Not, like, funny ha-ha, but unrelated funny."

This did nothing but earn him steely stares from his peers at the table.

Anxiously he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I didn't think you'd be this bad at lying," Paulina muttered with an even level voice, "Yet, here we are."

"So, does she go to a different school or what?" Star pressed a fist into her cheek, trying to fight the irritation that pulled at her features, feigning disinterest.

"I didn't even consider that Star!" Kwan declared, wiping crumbs from his chest and continuing to speak with his mouth full, "Does she go to Elmerton? Is she a Papermaker? A couple'a regular ol' Romeo and Juliets."

This earned a chorus of 'aw's from the background cheerleaders.

Dash dissented, "You guys know that's a tragedy, right? Not a romance? They both kill themselves?"

Like a rabbit, Paulina worked on one salad leaf with delicate little bites, "I can help hide the bodies if needed."

Expecting another round of bitching from their captain bitch, Kwan glanced over to Baxter. But the quarterback was staring off at something just off in the distance from their table at the front of the cafeteria, with a view of the land they reigned over. Following his gaze, Kwan was met with a sea of faceless Casper High students. It was clear Dash was starting at something— someone, maybe? But no one Byun-ji could assign any significance to.

Without another word, Baxter stood up jerkily and off-balance. Taking his tray with him.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the cafeteria, at the table closest to the rear exit to the courtyard, surrounded by trash cans and litter, Sam, Tucker, and Danny had been chatting amongst themselves there.

The goth raised her brows as her hands were preoccupied with her BLT, excluding the B.

In the middle of a joke, Foley saw Sam's eyes shrink towards a shape in the distance.

Daniel, with his face propped on his fist. The picture of an exhausted high schooler in his element. Fenton didn't have to turn his head. He already knew. Danny could detect Dash's aura from yards away, it seemed. Like his ghost sense, this… sensation, this unidentifiable shiver across his atoms— gave him a few seconds to brace. What Danny would be bracing for remained to be seen. Dash didn't scare him. Don't make him laugh. But this unpredictability was becoming tiresome. The anxiety that the quarterback sparked caused every single one of the ghost boy's muscles to tense. It was a bottomless apprehension that left him physically sore. Maybe if Fenton didn't look, then maybe, the trainwreck coming wouldn't be so bad. He wasn't afraid of him but afraid for him. How would Dash embarrass himself today?

The stride was focused and only gained speed as Baxter's target came into view.

Armed with his tray, the quarterback dropped it in the empty space in front of Danny. He was flushed and in a hurry. But in a rush to get out of there as fast as possible, Dash relayed in as neutral a tone as he could convey, "I'm not hungry."

And for added measure, he gave Fenton a noogie. However, it wasn't knuckles against scalp in the traditional sense. Dash more so playfully ruffled Danny's bangs out of his face before making a quick exit out to the courtyard.

Sam and Tucker, in tandem, put on big smirks in the ghost boy's direction.

He threatened under his breath before grabbing a fork and picking up where Dash left off, "Don't even start."

It was a case of excellent timing because Danny was inexplicably starving . Even if it was crummy cafeteria food, it was better than the nagging emptiness in his core—that static vacancy right behind his ribs.

There was something kind of sad about turning the guy who'd, by cliche definition would, steal his lunch money into a delivery boy. Then again, Dash was so loaded he didn't need to lower himself to mugging nerds for their allowance. Was there anything really awful about this kid, or did Danny just imagine it all? Christ, the guy, organized canned food drives and coat donations during the winter— not because he had to, but because he was good at it. How could you hate someone like that? Maybe it was easier to hate him than to think of all the ways they differed. Of course, Dash was popular. Of course! He was easy-going, generous… handsome. Kinda… when the golden sunlight dappled through the tree leaves just outside the window. The way it complimented his hair and olive skin. It wasn't hard to look angelic in that lighting. However, what kind of angel would have a notched nose and a crooked smile?

Hating Dash Baxter was like hating the pop song chorus stuck in your head. He was so universally accessible to hate. The quarterback was a song that wanted to assure you that everything was great and only good times were in your future. Suntans, parties with solo cups on a Friday night, or the cloudless beaches of California. The song called to mind the scent of chlorine-filled pools. All with an air-tight shrink-wrapped beat. Dash Baxter, like any radio party anthem, was designed to be perfect. That's why he needed to be destroyed.

But Dash wasn't perfect. Far from it, actually.

Danny wasn't about to admit that right now.

What was being a teenager besides being angry for no reason? God, he could kill something. And the scary part was that he was in constant doubt of his restraint. Why was he even angry? He couldn't remember. Danny just wanted to stop. For a little bit, at least. The best way he could describe it was in chemical terms. Acidic.

Leave it to the quarterback to just get lean meat and vegetables.

#schrodinger's adolescent #schrodinger's adolescent 2.0 #danny/dash #teddy ghost #swagger bishie #dandash #danny phantom #dp #phic #enemies to lovers #slow burn #mine

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