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hellodropbear · 2 months

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it's time. (II)

mapi leon x daughter

yay for part II! (part I here)

trust even i'm surprised that i finished this over the weekend (definitely should not have because I definitely have too much uni to be writing this)

hope you enjoy !!!!!!

~~~~~~

It was an unfamiliar sight, Mapi in the training kit. She frowned at herself in the mirror, still not entirely sure that this was the right decision. It felt unfamiliar too. The sleeves were tighter than she remembered and the shorts fell lower than they used to.

Even Isabel seemed to notice something was off with her mother, clinging to her all morning and providing her with more hugs and kisses than Mapi could have asked for.

"Go out?" The toddler was confused, clearly. It wasn't often that they left the house straight after breakfast time, but she knew they were leaving because she was dressed up in her special red and blue shirt and her Mami had brushed her curly hair back into a ponytail, clipping any stray hairs back with her favourite fluorescent clips.

"We are going to training today, Is. Mami is going to play with your Ale and Leila from yesterday!" She mustered on a smile as large as she possibly could, trying to hide her anxieties and fear from the child and instead busying herself with slipping on her socks and some baby adidas sneakers.

"Patri? Pina?" She frowned, wracking her brain for the other names. "Jenni?"

Mapi nodded. "Yes, with them too-"

"Ingrid!" Isabel beamed. "She pick me up!"

"Ingrid will be there, I'm sure."

The toddler laughed in delight, standing up from where she was sitting on the floor, her shoes and socks successfully on her feet. It was only when Mapi stood up too that she charged into her mother's legs, wrapping her arms around them in a big hug.

"Don't be sad, Mami!"

"I'm not sad, Is." She picked her up easily, grabbing both their bags for the morning and walking out of the apartment. "I'm excited!"

It wasn't a long drive to the training centre, maybe half an hour. Isabel was easily entertained in the back, her lion captivating her in ways Mapi didn't think she would ever be able to comprehend.

But the 30 minutes was over too quickly and before she knew it she was walking back through those doors and into the changing rooms. She was early on purpose, wanting to avoid all the attention on her as she walked in also and wanting to meet the babysitter that the club had found to watch her daughter as she trained.

"She's 14 months old, she is smart though. She can say around 30 words and has a really good memory. She can walk well, climb up stairs if she's given the chance so please don't leave her alone near any steps because she is more than likely to fall."

The young looking girl nodded, her eyes flicking to the list she was given.

"She eats at 12?"

"Usually. There is a lunch box in her backpack, just start with the stuff labeled 1 and 2, then keep feeding her until she refuses. Usually she'll eat all the food offered, but if she doesn't want it, don't force it. Don't let her sleep if she gets tired because she naps at around 2 which is when we'll get home and I don't want to mess up the schedule."

The blonde nodded as Mapi looked her up and down, clearly judging whether she was good enough to look after her precious child.

She hesitated.

"Have you ever been arrested?"

The girl, maybe 18 years old, looked at her in confusion.

"No?"

"Where you a high school bully? Homophobic? Racist? Anything?"

She shook her head.

"No, no. The club hired me, I have all my qualifications and plenty of experience. I had to go through two interviews for this. I'm from the preschool just up the road, we volunteered and then had to go through a long process to be hired by this club. I promise, I'm a good person."

Mapi nodded, still seemingly unconvinced.

"This baby is everything to me. Ok? If a single hair on her head is missing or harmed, I know where to come looking."

She held the baby tight, not wanting to let go and the girl's eyes widened, cracking her knuckles out of anxiety.

"Mapi!"

Both Mapi and the babysitter's heads whipped towards the door, Alexia striding in and standing beside her shorter friend.

"Leave her alone!" She shook her head, before looking towards the girl in front of her and sticking out her hand. "Alexia. What's your name?"

"Camila. Nice to meet you." She smiled uneasily, still hyperaware of Mapi's judgemental eye despite Alexia's sharp words and nudge in the side.

"Nice to meet you too, Camila." She turned back to Mapi. "It's time to say goodbye to the pequena and go over to training. Jonatan just asked if you were actually coming back today or if he misheard because you're late. Don't restart that trend of being late every day, please." Alexia's was balancing on a fine line between desperation and leadership, Mapi well aware that she was trying her best to not be completely overbearing and bossy.

Mapi rolled her eyes, taking one last glance at the increasingly more nervous babysitter in front of her before looking back down at the clueless baby in her arms. She planted soft kisses all over her head, trying to avoid the tears from springing to her eyes.

"Ok, my Is. Mami loves you so much and I'll see you so soon. Be good for Camila for me, yeah?"

The baby smiled excitedly, clapping her hands.

"Mami!"

She wrapped her arms around Mapi's neck, planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek and patting it once she had moved away.

"I love you, Mami."

"I love you too, Is."

She blinked away the tears as she passed the small child over into the arms of the stranger, trying to ignore the look of confusion that crossed her daughter's face as she handed Camila the backpack.

"Mami? Where go?"

"I'll see you very soon, my love." She struggled to look at her daughter as she spoke, worried that she would burst into tears and prevent her mother from leaving.

The centre back kissed the crown of Isabel's head as the emotions washed over her, promising she would be back soon and that everything would be ok. Isabel seemed to understand well enough, looking up at Camila with curiosity, poking at her face with her chubby fingers.

"Everything will be ok, Mapi. I promise."

Mapi nodded at her babysitter, leaning into the comforting arm that Alexia had placed gently over her shoulder.

"Thank you, Camila." Alexia spoke for Mapi, sensing her friend's emotions. "We'll see you in a couple of hours."

It was only when they left the room that Mapi allowed a single tear to slip down her face, quickly brushing it away to try and hide that she had become so emotional.

"It is stupid." She shook her head, looking away from Alexia.

The midfielder was quiet for a few seconds, trying to decide the best way to deal with this unfamiliar and uncomfortable situation.

"It is not stupid. She is your daughter, you are worried, this has never happened before. It is normal to feel this way."

Mapi shook her head, sighing softly.

"I have never had a babysitter for her before. You are the only person who has ever taken care of her without me there."

Her voice broke at the admission and she finally turned to make eye contact with Alexia.

"What if she hates it? What if she needs me and I'm not there for her?"

The midfielder didn't respond, almost certain that Mapi wasn't done talking; that these were rhetorical questions.

"What if it doesn't work out and she needs me for the rest of her life? What if I can never come back to football?"

Alexia sighed softly, Mapi's voice fading out a clear indicator that she was finished.

"Maria, you can't worry about things that haven't happened yet. You will figure everything out, I will help you." She lead the centre back towards a seat, subtly texting Jonatan that they'd be a few extra minutes late. "Isabel is a good girl. She will be good for Camila and she will be happy to see you in a couple of hours. And if not, we can figure something else out, we can find a new babysitter, we can think of something else."

The centre back used the heel of her hands to rub at her eyes aggressively, sighing and leaning into Alexia's embrace.

"I just worry that I'm not doing everything right for her. I want it all to be perfect because if Luis was here, her life would be more than perfect. He would have been such a good dad, and I can't even give her that."

The brunette observed Mapi carefully, using her thumb to gently wipe away the few lone tears that remained beneath her eyes. It was a topic that had come up often, Mapi's insecurities in comparison to her friend, but it was a topic that Alexia still struggled to talk her friend out of.

Because of course Mapi is a great mother, but Luis would have been a great father too. Mapi knows that more than anyone so Alexia can't just say that they will never know if it's true or not.

It would be an insult to Luis' memory.

"Just because you don't have that picture perfect family does not mean you are doing anything wrong, it doesn't mean you're a bad parent. Isabel is happy, she is smart and she loves you. It's all you need. And yes, Luis would have been a great father but there is a reason that he trusted you to have her. Biologically, Mapi, she is yours. Luis wouldn't have agreed to spending all that money if he thought you were a terrible person with bad morals, bad decision making and not a maternal bone in your body. You just have to believe he would have trusted you with her life. Everyone else does, it is just you that struggles to comprehend it."

Mapi was silent but Alexia hadn't expected a response. Maybe in a few days when she had time to think about the midfielder's words, which Alexia was sure she would; she always did. But they were so meaningful - her words, too meaningful to be able to come up with something to say right on the spot.

"Thank you, Alexia."

~~~~~~

Surprisingly, training went well. It took five minutes and a splash of water to the face for Mapi to face the team in the gym, but it took less than 10 minutes for her to forget about all her issues once she started training.

The gym work was stuff she had been doing for a year alone, but as soon as they headed outside and started playing, Mapi realised how much she had actually missed the sport. It was a part of her, she realised, and maybe she had been so down because she had been missing it for so long.

She was practically flying up and down the field, blocking shots, dominating rondos and shooting free kicks far out of the box.

It was like she was on a high, nothing would bring her down; nothing could slow her down.

And Mapi couldn't have been happier.

Alexia watched with pride as she slowly reverted back to the person she once was, boisterous, excited, happy. She was becoming the person that the midfielder had missed for almost a year and a half; the person she knew before her life was flipped upside down and shattered into a million pieces.

The person that Alexia had prayed every night to see again.

She hadn't lost any skill either, still the fierce defender who would put her body on the line if it meant preventing a goal and the entire team was shocked. Excited, maybe, to have one of their best players back after a slightly disappointing season. It definitely wasn't a secret that they had missed their key centre back.

Mapi was thrilled. Excited, over the moon. She couldn't believe how good just one session with the team made her feel, the complete antithesis of how she was feeling when she broke down to Alexia, in doubt of everything she had done over the past 14 months. It felt like the beginning of her life falling back into place and she almost drunk with happiness and pride as she sauntered back into the changing rooms.

She was the last one in, chatting away to one of the technical analysts about something entirely unrelated to football, so she was expecting a half empty changing room, most people heading out quickly or showering after the somewhat gruelling session.

What she didn't expect was for everyone to be standing and waiting for her, beginning to chant her name as she entered.

The tears that sprung to her eyes were happy this time, finally feeling like she was out of the long and dark tunnel, lost and confused with not a clue how she was going to get out.

But like most tunnels, the way out was right in front of her. So obvious but so frustratingly challenging to reach, such a long journey required to get there.

"Calma, calma!" She laughed as tears filled her eyes, a single pair of arms pulling her into a hug that was quickly joined by the rest of the team. "Vale. I love you all so much."

"Ah Maria gone soft!" Leila's teasing voice was easily distinguishable over the rest of the cheering and Mapi could only slap her lightly on the side as the hug dissipated. "I am joking, Mapi, of course I am."

Leila smiled too and it was then that Mapi noticed her glistening eyes, and when she looked around the room, she noticed the same thing in a lot of her long-term teammates.

"It is a family, Maria. Everyone is right there waiting for you to let them in."

"Everyone is there for you, Mapi. They love you."

"They were all so proud of you when they came yesterday, they can't wait for you to come back."

"They asked about you over the weekend, they want to know how you are doing."

"They want to meet Isabel, but they're worried that she's so small that they'll hurt her accidentally. They said they really wanted to visit you though, so long as I hold the baby."

Everything that Alexia had said to her about her teammates rushed through Mapi like a warm stream, emotions floating through the gushing water until Mapi was a crying mess in her cubby, completely aware of where the sudden emotion had come from.

Because the midfielder was right, they were a family and Mapi did have their support. Even though she asked them to stay away, even though she ignored them for months.

They were still there for her and the centre back knew that she would be there for any one of them if the roles were ever reversed.

Because they are a family and the love each other like sisters.

Alexia's arm was around her again, the familiarity a fire blanket on the emotions that were blazing through her.

"Are you ok, Mapi?" The midfielder knew the answer to her question before she even had to ask it, but blinked away her own tears as she watched her friend fall apart.

She wasn't used to an overload of emotions when it came to Mapi, usually just experiencing her naturally upbeat nature. She was never much of a crier, usually going numb immediately at any tragic or disappointing news, hiding her emotions to anyone around her and only breaking after she was sure she was completely alone.

She still was like that, but with Alexia it's different. Alexia is her best friend and has seen her through so many highs and lows of life that she is entirely familiar with Mapi's sporadic emotions.

Her tears in the locker room were not expected, but they did not come as a surprise to Alexia. Because the past months, full of challenges, of sadness and grief have lead up to this moment of pure and unbridled joy, something the midfielder had been desperate to witness for so, so long.

There are of course be hiccups, bumps in the road and dips on the rollercoaster still to come. It still would not be an easy road for the centre back.

But for now, she was on a high and that was all that mattered.

She had found herself again, out there on the field, right where she belongs.

"I am just so happy, Ale."

~~~~~~

"Isabel!" The small toddler's head whipped up to the door, spotting her godmother at the door, beaming as the midfielder strode towards her.

"Mi Ale!" She stood up from where she was sitting, waddling towards Alexia and wrapping her arms around her legs until the brunette reached down and picked her up, balancing her easily on her hip.

"How was she?" Alexia's attention was on Camila briefly, as the blonde stood up, a sheepish smile on her face at being caught doing role play with a toddler.

"Good!" The blonde nodded, only continuing at Alexia's silent request. "She was very well-behaved. We did some drawing, we played with toys, we played with blocks. She ate all the food she was offered and I think she is almost ready for a nap."

Alexia nodded, her attention back on Isabel.

"You had a good day, Is?"

She nodded giddily.

"Camila says I can come back again soon!"

"I'm sure you will." Alexia looked back up at the blonde who held out the small backpack. "Thank you, Camila. Mapi will be very grateful."

"It's no problem. She's an absolute pleasure."

Alexia smiled, telling the baby to wave goodbye and watching as she did so, before walking back out the door and towards the locker rooms.

"Where Mami?'

"We're going to see Mami now."

Isabel babbled away incoherently as they wandered through the facility until she spotted her mother in the locker room, excitedly poking at Alexia and gaining Mapi's attention.

"Mami! Mami!"

Mapi's head whipped up and her face dissolved into a smile, standing up and striding towards her daughter, easily plucking her from Alexia's arms.

"Hello my Is! I have missed you." She placed a soft kiss on the crown of her head as the child wrapped her arms around Mapi's neck.

"Mami!"

Mapi chuckled at her daughter's inability to say much else, instead just holding her close, grabbing her own bag and the small backpack from Alexia and heading out to her car, the midfielder close behind.

"So I assume you're coming back tomorrow?"

Mapi looked at her friend like she was stupid, a soft smirk on her face as she finished strapping Isabel into her seat.

"Of course I am. I'm back, Alexia. I think for good."

"I'm proud of you." She stood awkwardly, leaning on the side of the car, watching the blonde fuss over her daughter.

"I wouldn't be here without you." It was clear that Mapi was becoming emotional again and was trying desperately to not let herself fall apart again.

Alexia could see that, so she didn't do anything else or say anything else. Mapi was happy and that was all that mattered in that moment.

"Drive safe."

Mapi looked at her again, the same look of amusement at her friend's statement.

"I always do."

Alexia rolled her eyes, waving goodbye and walking over to her own car, her eyes still on Mapi as she got in. She was emotional herself after the training session, finally realising that her friend was slowly coming back to her.

It was after Mapi had driven away and Alexia was sure that she wouldn't be seen that she allowed the tears to fall freely.

It was relief, really. She was relieved that Mapi and Isabel really were going to be ok.

~~~~~~

Isabel was asleep in the back of the car by the time they arrived back home, and Mapi was able to carry her upstairs and into her cot without her stirring at all.

It was only after she had finished up with some household chores that the baby monitor went off, soft garbling coming from the nursery.

"Hello there Is!" She cooed at the groggy toddler, lifting her up out of the cot and rocking her gently.

She quickly ate the snacks she was offered, still sleepy when Mapi placed her into the stroller and headed outside and downstairs for their afternoon walk.

"Where do you want to go today, Is?"

The toddler looked up when she heard her name, shifting from her comfortable position, arms wrapped around her lion toy.

"Leon! Mi Leon." She held it up to Mapi and roared quietly, laughing at herself when Mapi smiled down to her.

"Your lion." The mother confirmed, leaving the lift and walking through the foyer of her apartment.

They were walking out when she heard someone calling her name, turning around quickly to see the pretty new signing, Ingrid Engen, walking towards her and leaving two large suitcases behind.

"Ingrid?"

"Do you live here?" The Norwegian was smiling as she spoke, although Mapi could hardly tell whether she was actually smiling or if her face was permanently set in the positive expression.

"Yeah. We live on the 6th floor." Mapi nodded, smiling but avoiding eye contact with the gorgeous brunette. "Do you?"

"I'm moving in today. 4th floor."

Mapi's heart had been steadily increasing ever since she heard her name, but at those words she thought it may stop right then.

"We're just heading out on a walk, if you wanted to come."

The Spaniard didn't know why she was asking, but the words just came out. She could feel her face flushing as she spoke but the Norwegian just made her feel so unbelievably nervous.

Ingrid looked down at her bags, then back up at Mapi. She blushed, smiling sheepishly.

"I would love to. I'll just run these upstairs if that's alright?"

Mapi nodded, moving towards the seating on the right to sit down and wait, her head in her hands as she went through all the reasons why this was a bad idea.

She didn't even know Ingrid, yet the midfielder made her feel a type of way that she hadn't felt in a very long time. She seemed so calm and so kind, someone that Mapi so desperately needed, yet refused to admit it.

Because she didn't have time to be a girlfriend. She was a mother first, then a footballer. Having a partner just wasn't an option, not when she was so busy with her current occupations, not when she already felt so guilty for handing her child off to a babysitter every time she needed to do her job.

She looked up at the sound of the elevator arriving, standing up when she saw Ingrid and pushing her pram over towards the door.

"So, congratulations, Mapi!" The Norwegian beamed and the Spaniard looked at her in confusion which prompted her to elaborate. "Today... you had your first session back since Isabel. That's what the others said, why they were all so excited."

"Oh. Yeah." Mapi grimaced. It wasn't something she was particularly happy about, considering she gave birth over 14 months ago and only just went back to team training. "I'm glad to be back, I definitely missed it."

"I can imagine." Ingrid smiled as they crossed the street, the setting sunlight catching her eyes and causing them to sparkle, something that didn't go unnoticed by the Spaniard. "It can't have been easy."

Not wanting to get into that now with someone she barely knew, Mapi changed the subject with ease.

"Where do you want to go? We usually just go down to the park and have a bit of a play there, but we can go somewhere better if you'd like?"

Ingrid shook her head.

"We can go to your park today and then somewhere else another day! I'm sure that your daughter wouldn't appreciate someone coming in and changing her routine." The Norwegian continued to smile, and Mapi became more and more sure that her face was always set in that grin.

She chuckled lightly at Ingrid's words, shaking her head.

"She wouldn't care in the slightest. As long as she has somewhere to run and play with her lion, she's happy."

"She's adorable."

Mapi knew. She knew she had a cute kid, one that people in the supermarkets would rush over to coo at. But her kid was so much more than that because she was smart and she was so loving. She had an excited personality and was full of so much joy that Mapi would wonder where it was all coming from.

She loved her child from the moment she was placed in her arms, but the excited and joyful person that Mapi was known as had been lost since her friends were killed in that car accident.

Isabel reminded Mapi so much of her old self, but she didn't know where it could have come from. The baby’s joy and excitement about the world was the complete antithesis of Mapi's overwhelming grief, fear and confusion.

And she knew that if it wasn't for the small baby that she loved more than anything else in this world, she probably wouldn't have made it through the death of Luis. Definitely not.

But Mapi didn't tell Ingrid all that, instead just nodding in silent agreement.

"She's a good girl. She's good for her Mami." The Spaniard looked down at the small toddler whose eyes were slowly drifting again. "She's always sleepy after her nap, then she'll be wide awake for a while at the park and usually will fall asleep on the way home. I'll wake her up when we get back, we'll eat dinner and then she likes to cuddle after dinner and that's when she'll fall asleep for the night and I put her down."

Ingrid laughed quietly.

"Very established routine?"

Mapi blushed furiously, smiling with a sheepish expression.

"The baby books all said routine was good. We fell into one and it's easy. She's easy. You know I took her to my paediatrician when she was 5 months old because she never cried?" Mapi laughed quietly. "I was so worried and searched up why and it was so scary that I took her."

Ingrid laughed alongside the Spaniard.

"What did your doctor say?"

"She said that Isabel's happy, that I'm doing a good job and that I should never use google to find out what's wrong with her." She scoffed. "That’s why I had to start reading things up in the baby books!"

Their laughter dissolved into easy conversation as Mapi lead them down the street, letting Ingrid do most of the talking, listening intently as she raved about her home, her family. She told Mapi that Norway was filled with countless fjords and mountains, lakes and rivers that gave the country soul, spirit and wonder. She said it was a hidden gem, the most beautiful thing in the world.

But Mapi disagreed, because how could anything be more beautiful than the girl that was stood beside her. Her eyes widened as the thought flashed through her mind, instantly averting eye contact and subtly shaking her head at herself.

She was like a 12 year old on her first date with their crush, and she cringed at the painful awkwardness that she made up in her head.

Ingrid listened as Mapi spoke about her home, back in Zaragoza where her parents and brother still lived, the Norwegian enthusiastic about visiting the Spanish city and immersing herself in the new culture.

Mapi listened as Ingrid complained about missing her cat and dog at home, and the Spaniard told her that she could meet Bagheera as a temporary substitute.

It was easy for both of them, despite the language differences. Light conversation fell lightly in English, google translate only proving useful a handful of times, though Mapi emphasised that Isabel could barely understand her first language, let alone English.

The sun was well and truly setting as they arrived at the park, Mapi laying out the rug and pulling her daughter from the pram right under one of the street lights that would prove useful in half an hour.

"Mami!" The girl squealed when her mother's face was finally in front of her, her eyes lighting up as she was placed on her feet, Mapi crossing her legs and sitting down beside her.

"Is, you remember Ingrid from yesterday?"

The baby nodded shyly, moving back towards her mothers arms, nudging her face into the crook of Mapi's neck.

"Don't be nervous, my lion cub! Remember, we are brave at heart."

"Lions, Mami." Slowly, her face peeked out from it's hiding spot, waving and smiling shyly at the Norwegian who waved back, a soft smile on her face.

She slowly moved towards Ingrid, holding out her lion toy and making a lion noise.

"She wants you to copy her." The Norwegian smiled at Mapi who had supplied the useful information, roaring softly at the small girl who giggled loudly and pulled the lion toy back into her arms.

"soy leon!" Ingrid couldn't understand Spanish, but somehow she knew what the toddler was implying, nodding happily as Isabel continued to babble in incoherent Spanish, entertaining herself by rushing between the two footballers who sat on opposite sides of the mat.

The distance became shorter and shorter, however, as the two footballers inched ever so slowly towards each other, their voices softening as the sky became darker and the space between them smaller.

The curly haired toddler fell exhaustedly into her mothers arms, dropping her lion beside her and cuddling up towards her mothers neck, successfully ending the ongoing conversation between the two adults.

"You are tired, mi amor?"

Instead of answering, she yawned loudly from her comfortable spot in Mapi's arms, Ingrid laughing softly at her tired face.

"I think it's time to head home for some dinner, if that's alright?" Mapi shifted nervously as she stood up, unsure if she should offer her hand to help Ingrid also.

Luckily for her and her decision making, the Norwegian stood up and picked up the blanket before Mapi had finished her internal debate.

"Of course!" Ingrid flushed crimson, her mind and body brought right back down to Earth, the floating feeling slowly evaporating as she folded up the blanket, an uncomfortable silence falling over the duo.

Mapi was right in her prediction that Isabel would fall asleep as they walked home, and Ingrid laughed as she noticed that the girl had passed out almost instantly when she was placed down in the pram, tucked into a blanket and hidden away from the rest of the world with a scarf that Mapi used as a makeshift curtain.

The walk home went quickly and the trio were back in the brightness of the apartment complex before they knew it.

"Thank you for taking me with you this evening." Ingrid smiled gratefully, pulling Mapi into a soft hug.

The Spaniard tried to stop herself from melting into those strong arms, but she was rendered speechless, her heart rate sky rocketing and her eyes closing.

She regained her vocal abilities once the hug broke, clearing her throat awkwardly and averting her eyes. Those green eyes were too much for the Spaniard, they made her palms sweaty and her heart beat too fast for her liking, so she resolved to just not look at them.

"It's no problem. Thank you for keeping me company. It was nice to talk to someone whose entire vocabulary isn't just limited to 'Mami' and 'lion'."

Ingrid laughed, and Mapi realised again that the sound of her laugh had the same effect on her as those sparkling eyes.

As they said goodnight and retreated to their own rooms, Mapi also realised she was well and truly fucked.

Because she couldn't date, there was no time.

But she had fallen for the Norwegian, hard and fast, and she didn't think there was much she could do about it.

"Your Mami is so silly, Isabel!"

~~~~~~

yay finished

I haven’t done much romantic writing so I’m worried that this will be painful for everyone to read (like it was for me) but let me know what you think!

if you have any requests please let me know, i will either add them in or write something about them at some other point (i have seen the ones that have been sent in and i will be writing them, just have to go through planning stages first)

i also was inspired from the olympics and have written a blurb of isabel as a teen competing in a sport (5 cents to anyone who can guess which sport) so please let me know if you'd be interested in reading it hahahah

and also let me know if you see any mistakes because i edited this all in one go and was too lazy to do a final read :)

(in summary, let me know)

have a nice day x

#mapi leon #mapi leon x ingrid engen #alexia putellas #ingrid engen #woso #woso fanfics #barca femeni #fcb femení #woso imagine

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word-wytch · 1 month

Text

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 17

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 17/? 19k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ Finally alone, tensions come to a head and feelings erupt.

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Chapter CW: smut (18+ nsfw), emotional first time, heated conversations, hurt/comfort, love confessions, heavy petting, dry humping, body worship, unintentional edging, nipple play, cock stroking, piv sex (protected), aftercare

✏︎ For reference, here is a bingo score card map of Teach's apartment

✏︎ Special thank you to @the-unforgivenn @munson-blurbs @rip-quizilla @ladylilylost for holding my hand behind the scenes and rekindling my light with your own on a daily basis.

It was nothing like you had imagined.

In your countless daydreams involving Eddie’s van, it was always things like the breeze gusting through a cracked window, or the bones of his knuckles as they stretched between yours that drew your focus. The details were always fuzzy. Staring into the open passenger door, they were coming into full view now under the yellow interior light. Cigarette butts crowded the ashtray beneath the radio. A nest of candy wrappers cradled naked tapes in the center console. McDonalds bags littered the seat that would soon be yours. Eddie crinkled them into hasty balls beneath his fists, arcing them over his shoulder to clatter against a cymbal somewhere in the back.

“Sorry, I uh, wasn’t expecting company,” he said with a shameful shake of his curls. Bracing the seat cushion, he reached toward the floor before chucking two empty Mountain Dew cans into the rear abyss. French fry crumbs clattered to the weather mat with a brush of his hand against the plaid fabric. Coyly glancing from under his lashes, he sat back in his own seat and gave the space a final look. “Ok, should—should be good now.”

Like an open maw of caramel leather, it could have swallowed you. Securing your thumb under the strap of your bag, your boots left the salty pavement and found the ledge, lifting you out of the darkness and into the dim chaos. With a gracious smile, you slid into your place beside him. The seat was a comfortable cradle at your back; spacious and sturdy. Sliding your bag between your knees and feet, it found a home on top of the fry crumbs and other mysteries you decided not to entertain.

You sat there for a beat as the details enveloped you; the scent of old cigarettes and leather, the stale hint of fast food, the exhaust on the cold night air wafting in through the open door. It squealed on its hinges when you shut it, sealing you behind its jaws as the light above you faded to black.

Then it was just you and him. Just you and him in the dark leather cavern with nothing but the light from the dashboard and the soft floodlights making a halo of his frizz. Nothing but the engine rumbling idly, and the rush of your pulse in your ears. Nothing but short bursts of breath, and eyes that roamed with cautious amazement.

It was strange for Eddie to see you here. You, in the passenger’s seat of his van. Out of your usual context. Surreal, like a dream he’d woken into.

“Thank you,” you muttered into the silence, “for the ride.”

Eddie blinked hard, snapping from his trance. “Yeah—yeah. Sure thing.” Chains rattled against the zipper of his sleeve as he shifted the gear to reverse. Reflexively, his right hand braced your headrest, peering over his shoulder as he slowly backed out. “So uh, where are we going?”

His scent sucked the words off your tongue — the acrid remnants of grease on his fingers, the warm musk of his leather-clad wrist. Tearing your eyes away from his tendons flexing inches from your face, you eked out a response. “Oh—just make a left onto Randolph.”

With a nod, he hit the brake, removing his hand to shift forward toward the parking lot exit. Tail lights caught the soft glitter of snow as your small white sedan faded in the ample side-view mirror. There was a view from up here, like the van was swallowing the pavement as it careened out onto the road. Like you were seated in a leather throne, watching traffic below surge like a sea of subjects on the rush hour wave.

Eddie tapped his hands against the wheel to a nervous rhythm before one of them reached toward the stereo—which might as well have been a button labeled detonate—because the thundering sound could have blasted you both back into 1984.

“SHIT—” he screeched with a manic twist of the volume dial, a stray curl wavering in his ragged breath. “Sorry.”

A laugh bubbled out of you. A wild, cackling thing, as if you were a toy wound up by nerves and the noise had released the crank. It was absurd—surreal—watching traffic lights change from the passenger’s seat in Eddie Munson’s van as Iron Maiden squeaked out the quietest guitar solo you’d ever heard.

Eddie’s shoulders slacked in relief, hand relaxing against the wheel as he breathed a chuckle. The stoplight painted his cheeks even redder, and your spinning world stilled to a single focus as you gasped for air: his wild eyes, glimmering with soft bewilderment like you were an angel or a ghost he’d picked up along the road. Like he was struggling to believe you were real. Like he was struggling to believe you were here.

And just like that it was quiet again. The van rumbled idly beneath your seat, kicking up a smokescreen of exhaust. His soft lips parted and twitched. Straightening your shoulders and dipping your chin, you prepared to receive any words he had to offer. You even thought a soft smile might encourage their release, but nothing came out. The light turned him green, and with a sharp sigh through his nose he shifted his attention back to the road.

Smoothing your hands across the wool in your lap, you chewed at your own stubborn words as you did your bottom lip. But they were too big to make it out. Too loud, even with the rumble of the engine. Instead you cast your attention over your shoulder with a heavy sigh. Lately it was rare to find yourself out past dark. Even rarer that you looked past your own pained reflection in the glass. Passing below you like a panorama, Christmas lights wrapped stout bushes and glowed under a fresh blanket of snow. Plastic reindeers and light-up Santas crowded lawns amongst nativity scenes. Bright colored bulbs wrapped porches and rooftops. Through these dirty windows, you could almost call it beautiful.

“Straight?”

You blinked out of your daydream. “Mhm, until Chester, then make a right.”

Eddie gave a single nod, keeping his eyes on the road. Typically by the time he made it past Melvald’s he would be fumbling in the pocket of his coat, pinching a cigarette out of the box and feeling for his lighter on the dash while his knee kept him out of a ditch. Today he had precious cargo. Chin locked dutifully forward, he still couldn’t keep his eyes from staying, from catching the lights as they danced across your holy form. You were watching them intently, lost in some daydream he could only speculate about. It was a vision he could get used to. Secretly he hoped you’d stay distracted, just a moment longer. Long enough to snap a mental polaroid, to shake it and save it for later. Tension splayed his hands on the wheel, and he firmly adjusted his grip with a slow exhale.

Shifting against the leather beneath you, your fingers found the stitching, running nervously along the smooth piping, filing it somewhere deep in your memory. It was good like this. Cruising like a tall ship above the sea of cars as Eddie palmed the wheel. Feeling his presence in the seat next to you; solid and stable like a captain at the helm. It was better than a dream. Absent of clasped palms and open windows, but rich in realness.

Tin cans rolled hollowly in the back as the van veered right, and you wondered how many other lucky people had been given this place of honor after shows at The Hideout, or parties on the weekend, or long summer nights that bled into day. You could almost picture him pulling up to a gas station; the smoke wafting out of the doors as they opened, the crinkling of Snickers wrappers and cracking of pop cans, the laughter over the roar of the stereo. You were surrounded by remnants of good times past. Closing your eyes, you imagined for a moment that he was taking you somewhere else. Somewhere fun and exciting, somewhere you would surely leave behind remnants of your own.

When the van passed the baseball field and approached the tidy row of lights outside of each apartment door including yours, you wished he would just keep driving. Way out past the farms and forests, straight into the stars. You wouldn’t even look back.

“This lot here,” you gestured as a crushing feeling crept into your chest.

With a solemn nod, Eddie did as he was instructed. He braked and cranked the wheel, drove all the way to the end—to the last apartment on the single-story strip—and pulled into the empty spot in front of it.

You sat there for a moment, idling as the large headlights illuminated a single red door, the number 8 beside it. Suddenly it was like you were a child again, being dropped off at home after a weekend with Janet. It was the same sinking feeling. With a slow exhale, you worried your lip between your teeth.

Eddie killed the engine. His hand splayed the wheel, brows pinching as his thumb dug into the leather with a heavy sigh. Your eyes connected, and the staring match began. It sucked the moisture from your mouth. All you could taste anymore was your heartbeat. All you could see were those eyes—dark and brimming with a million words behind them, almost loud enough to hear. Let me in, they begged. Please, I’m so close.

The door was right there, glowing and red. All it needed was for you to unlock it. Only you could do that. Words wrestled on your tongue. They grappled with each other, flung each other from the ropes and into the ring. You can come in, one side said. Help me find a mechanic. The angel—or was it the devil—pulled that voice into a headlock, gritted thank you, goodbye in a voice that sounded an awful lot like your mother.

Goodness was a mantle. A weight that kept your shoulders back, your lips pressed tight. In the end it was goodness that moved your hand, grabbed the leather from between your legs and slid the heavy burden onto your lap. It was goodness that placed your fingers on the cold plastic handle and pulled.

“Wait—”

There was a sparkle in your eyes. It flickered in the darkness as you turned over your shoulder.

“We need to talk.”

Your fingers left the handle as you settled back into your seat with a sigh. “I know, we do.”

“Like, now.” It was loud and insistent, much more than he intended, but it just leapt out. “I want to talk to you now,” he repeated softer this time, thumb digging into the leather of the steering wheel.

“Okay, yeah. Yeah—no you’re right.” Your stomach did a summersault at the admission.

The knot in Eddie’s gut released slightly. He chewed his lip for a second before continuing. “I mean, we could talk out here I guess but it’s like, twenty degrees out and I’m running low on gas.”

Your front door glowed in the halo of his headlights. He didn’t have to spell it out. You weren’t going to make him. But it had to be him who was asking, because all your lips had space for were four words, pinning their opposition to the mat, buying just enough time to sneak out. “You can come in.” It was quiet, but clear as you tugged the plastic handle, nodding over your shoulder for him to follow.

Eddie’s eyes grew wide, and in an instant he was throwing off his seatbelt, fumbling his keys into his pocket, and scrambling out the door into the cold.

It was like your fingers were moving through molasses, like they’d never held a key before, less found the right one on your keychain, placed it in the slot, and turned. It didn’t help that he was watching so intently, that you could feel his breath in clouds over your shoulder. Still, despite your churning nerves and roaring conscience, one of the voices—whether it was the angel or the devil, you hadn’t decided—rose up in hope as you turned the handle and pushed in.

It was nothing like he had imagined.

Then again, he wasn’t really sure what he had imagined, just that there was something—some sign of life—like posters, or paintings, or something that suggested you even lived here. Instead as you flicked on the lights to the narrow hallway, he saw nothing but white walls. He froze for a moment, glancing down at his boots weeping onto your clean white carpet. He was struck by the impulse to remove them, to preserve the cleanliness of such a sterile environment, but when you kept on walking, the impulse was greater to follow.

In a few strides he was passing a kitchen to his left; plain with a small formica table and chairs. He couldn’t get a glimpse of much else before the hallway emptied into the living room. This space looked slightly more lived in, but barely. There was a crocheted afghan in shades of brown draped over the cream floral couch. A remote and papers on the coffee table. A TV in the center of the room. In the corner by the sliding glass doors were few cardboard boxes labeled with words he couldn’t make out. Even the Christmas tree beside them was bare. It was amazing to him how much nothing there could be in a place somebody lived, how it was even possible. The only piece of furniture that seemed to hold some fragment of personality was the long record cabinet pushed up against the wall to his right. On top there were even a few records leaning between the speakers and the record player. It was hard to make out what they were from the track list on the back, not that he had much time before you turned around.

Eddie Munson was standing in your living room. Right behind the TV. You had to blink a few times to believe it. The dark, broad angles of his shoulders jumped out against the stark wall behind him as if he was a cardboard cutout. Out of place, out of time. He was moving though; stuffing his hands in his coat pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels as he chewed his bottom lip.

You’d really done it now—invited a wolf inside your den. And now you were alone with him. Truly alone. Hidden from the outside world behind a door you’d locked yourself. You could say anything—do anything—you wanted. Fingers moving to the top button of your coat, they froze just as they did when you passed the front closet. As if removing it would render you vulnerable, would encourage him to do the same, encourage him to stay. Goodness drew your fingers from the plastic, tucked them safely inside your pocket.

“Thank you for the ride, I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no problem.” He took a step forward, and a knot began to twist low in your belly. “Look, I’m sorry about what I said last week. About it not being a big deal,” he began with a slow, deep breath. “It was like, really fucking stupid a-and just—god,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “insensitive of me and I’m sorry.”

You could tell he’d really thought about it. By the look in his eyes you were sure it had eaten away at him ever since you’d left him in your classroom. “Thanks, I appreciate the apology.”

His shoulders relaxed a little.

“I’m sorry too, honestly. This whole situation is…” you shook your head, breaking his gaze with a bitter sigh, “a mess. I never—” you sucked your teeth, searching for the words like they were stones on a dark path through the woods. “This is my fault.”

Eddie blinked in disbelief, offering a hollow laugh. “No, it isn’t.”

“No, it is.”

He rolled his eyes, unable to mask his annoyance. “What, like I didn’t ask you out? Ask you to smoke with me? Ask you to kiss me?” The last question lingered in the air between you, hanging for a second before you cut in.

“I should have said no,” you doubled down. “It’s my responsibility—”

“Stop.”

“I never should have put you in this position—”

“STOP.”

“No, it is my fault, Eddie. I’m your—”

“What, you’re my superior?” He strode forward, spitting fire like a volcano. “What like—like I’m some helpless child?”

“No—”

“Then talk to me like I’m an adult, because I am.” He was yelling now. Suddenly it felt like you were shrinking, dwarfed by his imposing silhouette. He must have seen the fear flicker in your eyes because he doubled back, raking his hand through his hair with a ragged sigh. “I’m twenty years old,” he leveled. “I’m twenty years old and still in fucking high school for some reason.”

Folding your arms across your thick coat, your lips twitched but nothing made it out. It was swallowed by the emptiness of the room, by the silence he left you in, by his dark eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t come here to argue, I—” he balled his fist and lowered it with a sharp breath through his nose. “I’ve barely been here five minutes and I’m already fucking everything up.”

Tentatively, your boot met the carpet in front of you, approaching as if he were a wounded animal. “You’re not,” you soothed.

Eddie took a deep breath, eyes smoldering like coal. “I hate this.”

“Yeah, me too,” you stated quietly.

“I hate that has to be like this. That I’m like this and you’re—” he gestured toward you, hand falling dejectedly as if the next word was too painful to speak, “that I can’t—” he swallowed the wavering threatening his voice, “can’t be with you the way I really want to be.”

The heat in his voice could have melted you—leaked you out of your coat, and your boots, and your blouse until you seeped into the carpet. Until there was nothing left but the puddle he had rendered you. “I know,” you breathed. “So do I—”

“Then why don’t we just—?” He stepped forward, a hunger growing in his eyes like he’d glimpsed his first meal in days. Like he wanted to devour you.

And you wanted it. More than you cared to admit. The heat creeping up your neck didn’t lie, but your feet were far more self-preserving, treading backwards on the carpet. “It’s dangerous.”

He took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders with a frustrated sigh. “You know what, how ‘bout I just drop out?”

“Eddie—”

“No, really. As soon as we come back from break.”

You shook your head, pulse pounding in your temples. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Why not? It would solve the problem, wouldn’t it?”

Your coat was suddenly suffocating, the room closing in like the narrowing space between you as he encroached with another step. “No. I’m supposed to be helping you a-and now I’m just getting in the way.”

Eddie fumed, nostrils flaring. “Getting in the way of what, some stupid piece of paper? I mean what the fuck do I need a diploma for anyway?” He gave a hollow laugh. “W-what you think I’m gonna be like, a doctor or some shit?”

His words were like daggers, aimed at himself but they sank into you. “It’s important to you. I know it is because you would have dropped out a long time ago if it wasn’t. I’m not gonna let you throw that away. Not when you’re this close. Not for me.”

The anger was rising again, building like steam in his chest. “Then what do you want me to do? Stay in school, risk your job?”

You paused for a moment, eyes flicking back and forth over the carpet. “Even if you did drop out, how do you think that would look to this whole town? You suddenly drop out of school and then… what? We just happen to start dating? You don’t think that would raise a few eyebrows? Most of my coworkers know that I’m tutoring you. It’s easy to put two and two together. People talk.”

Eddie heaved a sigh, glaring at the tidy stack of papers on your coffee table, the neatly folded afghan on your couch, suddenly swallowed by the order, the evidence of both of your positions. “Then what should we do?” He felt like he was on trial, like you held a wooden hammer, like he was waiting for it to fall.

In the end, all you could offer was your honesty, like a hollow whisper. “I don’t know.”

It sunk like an arrow in his chest, shocked him with the depth of its sting. “Why not?” The words just shot out, and the pinch in your brow let him know where they landed. “I’m sorry—I mean of course I know why not—like practically speaking but—” His retort was drying up on his tongue, pounding feebly in his chest. “I just thought that, I mean we both—we both have feelings for each other.” A tangible pain flickered in his eyes. “Don’t we?”

“Yes, but—” The words caught in your throat at the sight of him. Those enormous almond eyes that haunted you whenever you closed yours. The way his lips twitched and trembled and begged you to capture and still them. And those hands, capable of so many things. Under stage lights they were sure and nimble, plucking complex melodies with ease and precision. Under fluorescents they fumbled carelessly, left everything they touched either bent, broken, or beaten. Did you trust them to protect you? Trust them with your career, your reputation, your heart? Did he know what he was truly asking you? When you finally collected the words, they came out low, and quivering. “You could ruin me.”

He wasn’t sure what hurt more, the fear in your eyes or the sting of your mistrust. Eddie took a step forward, placing a hand on his chest in earnest. “I would never do that.”

Anger startled you as it rose up, clawing its way out of the grave you buried it in when you slammed your car door shut outside the pawn shop. “I’ve known you for four months, Eddie.” Your lips formed a hard line, tears threatening behind your eyes as you gestured to the boxes in the corner. “I knew him for five years.”

Eddie seethed, a fury rising in his chest at the man who’d hurt you, at the whole situation. “I can’t change that,” he snapped. “I wish I could. I wish I could just-just wave my hand and make it all better. I wish—” he breathed a hollow laugh, “that everything was different. That we’d met at some bar and I was some—some… I don’t know, just some guy instead of some fuckup who needs your help with his chemistry homework.” His voice betrayed him, fracturing the last few words. He swallowed, tears welling behind his eyes. After a deep breath, he finished. “I wish I could change a lot of things, but I can’t. All I can do is ask for you to trust me because the only thing I want in this world is a chance to show you how much I love you.”

The words bloomed in your chest, stung behind your eyes, hung like the aftershock of a bomb in the space between you. All your life you had wanted so many things. All of them ended up stored in boxes, sitting in drawers, held in secret daydreams. Remnants collecting dust. Fantasies no one would ever know. Eddie Munson stood there in your living room and told you that he loved you, and never in your whole entire life did you want something as badly as you wanted to believe him. To tell him that you loved him too. To crash into his arms and never leave. But fear held its icy grip, kept you frozen in place. Tears burned behind your eyes but you buried them too. “Those are big words, Eddie,” you whispered.

Molten feelings churned in his gut, came spewing out before he could stop them. “I’m not illiterate,” he snapped.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know what this probably looks like to you,” he wavered hotly, nostrils flaring as his mouth became a thin, hard line, though his eyes were welling and wounded. “That—that I’m just some young, reckless guy who has the hots for his—” the last word caught in his throat.

“I don’t think that,” you whispered.

“Then what do you mean?”

The pain in his voice fractured the ice around your heart. “I just...” You breathed a deep sigh, searching for the words in the carpet before meeting his gaze again. “I just need to make sure you mean them, like really mean them, because—” your voice snagged. Through the hot blur, you glanced at your full moving boxes. Your empty Christmas tree. Your empty walls. Empty as the day you left Indianapolis. Empty as the day you moved in. “I can’t do this again.”

The crack in your voice could have shattered him, much less the image of you, shrinking in your stiff wool coat, swallowed by the sparseness of the room. You, trembling like prey, smaller than he’d ever seen you.

“I mean them,” he uttered hotly. “I can’t do anything about your position, or mine, or your past, or how difficult this is for both of us. But…” he drew a deep breath, treading his words like rocks on a river. “I want you to give me a chance. A chance to be like—like a real person with you. Someone who can take you on a real date a-and—” The rest of it snagged in his throat, eyes welling as he swallowed back tears. He clenched his hand into a fist. Steadying himself with a deep, convicted breath, he continued. “I promise you will never have to worry—at least about how I feel—because I love you. And I mean it.” He let it hang in the air for a moment, straightening his shoulders. “All I’m asking for is a chance to show you.”

You closed your eyes, tears cascading down your cheeks as you stifled a sob. When you opened them to a blurry room, Eddie was standing there, waiting for you. In your whole life you could count on one hand all the truly bad things you’d ever done. This, by any technical account, would be the worst of them all by a long shot. But when you searched your heart for the right answer, all you could find were fragmented dreams of the wind in your hair, and your feet on the dash, and his hand clasped in yours, and the wild open road, and every soft, quiet want you had ever locked away. When you finally opened your mouth, all you could manage were two words—broken, half-whispered, terrifying, and true. “Show me.”

Swiftly, like a summer wind, Eddie crossed the room in two quick steps, snatched your face in both his hands, and kissed you. And just like that you were swept away. Stunned and breathless and whole all at once. Crushed between his hands and mouth, hot tears pinching through your lashes to cascade over the rough pads of his thumbs. You blindly grasped for him, fisting the leather of his coat to keep him from evaporating, to keep you from floating away. An exhale shook from both of you—wet and shuddering—as he parted just a fraction, just enough to capture you again. You melted there against his lips, wept like melting snow into his palms, dripping toward the carpet as his thumbs swiped the remnants from your cheeks. It was sniffling and sloppy, messy and real, and here—in the absence of bells, and desks, and lights that made everything wrong—it was the rightest thing that you had ever known.

With both his agent hands, Eddie kissed you for every time he wanted to but couldn’t. A thousand fervent daydreams pressed against your lips. One for every time he saw you in the hall, every time you’d brushed against his arm, every time you’d looked at him with kindness when everyone else saw a freak and a waste of their time.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips. A shallow sob escaped through the corners of his mouth and you kissed it away, thumbs soothing over his wet cheeks. “I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” And you meant every word.

Eddie stilled against the bridge of your nose and sighed, eyes closed, relishing as the words washed over him like a balm. Your breath mingled in soft pants as you rocked against his forehead, swaying to a rhythm only the two of you could hear. As if on cue, you opened your eyes together and were swallowed by two massive brown spheres.

His thumbs gave your cheeks another swipe before dropping from your face, and yours did the same. You both took a moment to reset yourselves, wiping your eyes and noses on your palms and sleeves, soft chuckles escaping through giddy, disbelieving smiles at one another. His lashes were wet and clinging in a way that made him impossibly more beautiful.

Until now, your touch had belonged to the shadows. A timid trek across the ridges of his knuckles under the cover of a desk. A fenced exploration over the landscape of his ribs in the dark outside The Hideout. Now—in the gentle glow of the lamp beside your couch—you boldly cupped his face with both your hands.

He was real, all of a sudden. The oval face that shot you smirks in the hallway and haunted your waking dreams, now here in the palms of your hands. Dragging your thumbs over the apples of his cheeks, they dimpled with a smile. Warm and flush in the golden light, softer than you’d ever imagined. Every subtle angle of his face, drawn together to make him—the ridge of his jaw under your fingertips, the phantom brush of stubble as you traced it. With gentle awe, your thumbs grazed over the crinkles in the corners of his dark, roving eyes. Real. Here. Yours. Now.

“I read your assignment,” you softly admitted.

Eddie’s eyes widened with a gentle puff through his nose. “Oh yeah, how’d I do?” he murmured playfully. “B minus? I mean I didn’t exactly finish so it’s probably more like a—“

You silenced him with your lips. After a breathless, five second eternity, you parted with a heavy smack and looked him dead in the eyes. “A plus.”

Eddie melted between your palms. Trailing your hands down the soft contours of his cheeks, jaw, and neck, they flattened against his chest for a moment as it rose and fell beneath his black hoodie; steady and strong. He glanced down at your hands through gentle lashes, and then back up at you. With a coy flick of your eyes, you slipped up and over his shoulders, fingers diving under the silken liner of his coat. With both palms, you traced the strong angles, guiding the leather off of them until it thudded to the floor.

There was a single beat before he kissed you. Hard. Drawing the air from your lungs and the sense from the rest of you. When his tongue asked for admission there was no hesitation. You let him in, parting your lips to accept his wet heat, swept away by his current—breaking and cresting over and over. Hands hanging limply at your sides, he captured and devoured you, drawing you into his maw with every slip of his tongue against yours.

Your chest lurched forward as he tugged the buttons of your coat, working them from the thick wool eyelets with an urgency that bordered on frustration with the garment’s existence. His lips parted slightly as he glanced down, noses still touching, panting into the fractional distance as the eagerness of his fingers threatened the strength of the thread. Your mantle fell to the floor in a heap, and his hands—greedy and splayed at your waist—pulled you close.

His kiss came in waves, taking you under, again and again. It was the most delicious thing, to drown. To go slack and let the slick heat of his mouth take you under. You were learning to love drowning. Learning to love the darkness and the lack of air, the crushing of his body, the lapping of his mouth—bringing you to surface just enough before plunging back in. It was safe, to drown with him.

Both hands twisted into his hair, tugging with fervent desperation as need rose up in you like a bubble that had been trapped at the bottom of the ocean, so sudden and consuming. Your teeth dragged along his bottom lip, tugging the plush membrane with a boldness that earned you a groan, a tightening of hands around your waist, a warm, wet tongue which you eagerly accepted. Yours danced against the gummy muscle, tasting everything—the hint of acrid smoke, the wistful sighs that echoed in the cavern of your mouth, the satisfied fulfillment of being truly alone.

His hands were burning through your blouse, splayed open at your waist like he was trying to make contact with every atom, pulling you so close it stifled your breath. There was a whole landscape here, a hill under your soft red cardigan where your back dipped toward your spine. He trekked it with his fingers, up and over, back and forth, feeling the muscle bend to his touch, and the subtle arch in your back when he did.

A feeling prickled through him. Up through his fingers, low in his belly. Desire—so familiar, and yet foreign as it ignited in a way that satisfied this time. There was something else too, rippling through his chest, seating somewhere in his sternum as he dipped his fingers—just the middle and ring—beneath the wool barrier of your skirt. The zipper grazed his knuckles, and he tasted something even sweeter than the strangled moan that ushered past your tongue:

Power.

He did it again. Pressing his fingers into the curve of your spine, splaying beneath the wool and pulling back in a firm grip around the muscle of your lower back, letting his fingers drag firmly over your skin like he was trying to claw through the cotton.

It burned in a slow, delicious way. Burned in a way that made you dizzy, made your pulse jump from your throat and thrum in that low, forbidden place, beating life into a space that could no longer be ignored. You clenched your thighs together, arching your back at the demand of his touch, dipping your tongue into his sopping mouth as a helpless sigh escaped you.

He lapped it up eagerly. Again, fingers splaying, clawing, burning. Like a sorcerer weaving a spell through the fabric—drawing you nearer, making you pliant. He met your sighs with approving hums. Bright, like the timbre of his voice, but the color was deeper, thick with a coaxing desire. They slipped down your throat like water in a desert, leaving you thirsty for more.

There was an animal in you. Eager and starving. Pawing at his chest as his lips slid between yours in a rhythmic cadence. His hand burned at your back, clawing with insistence, warring with the few remaining shreds of his decent will. You obeyed with a cant of your hips, more than was proper, more than was chaste. Your rational mind flickered in for a moment, but the throaty, approving hum it earned you and solid mass of his waist molding and conforming to yours hushed it quickly.

Eddie nipped at your bottom lip—testing, eager. A tingling rush flooded your core, tugged at your wrists like marionette strings, draped them over his shoulders and around his neck. Do it again, you begged with an arch of your back, pressing your chest to the contours of his. Eddie obliged with a drag of his teeth.

There was an animal in him too. Stirred by rocking of your hips, taunted by your boldness. It was like a waking dream, more unbelievable than any fantasy he’d ever had. You, draped around him like a doll, begging him to play. Boldly, he splayed his hand, starting between your shoulder blades and dragging firmly down your soft cardigan as he traced the length of your spine. You, bending like a string on a guitar, molded by his touch to sing the sweet release of your sigh. It ghosted hotly on his tongue, swirled in the pit of his belly. What other melodies were locked inside, waiting for his hand to be expressed?

Boldly, he breeched the barrier of your skirt, palming past the ridge of rough fabric, down, slowly down, over the mound of your rear. He rested there, grabbing with the full spread of his hand. It was sinful, how taught and plump the muscle was, how he’d watched it move for countless days from his station in the back of your classroom, eyeing how it shifted as you leaned on tired feet, etching words onto the board while he memorized your figure. Eddie tightened his grip, drawing upward, letting the swell of it pinch through his grasp.

Music—in the gasp of your mouth against his, the quick suck of air hushed by his lips, relinquished in a sigh. Guiding you closer, rocking you into him with the strength of his wrist, repeating the motion, reveling in the waves he made with every grapple of his palm.

The ice in you was melting, tingling to life like a limb half asleep, radiating through the pinch of his hands to that dormant place again. He was using both of them now—spreading and massaging as his tongue probed deeper. Your arms relaxed, limp on his sturdy shoulders, eyes closed, letting him do as he pleased—mold you like putty in his palms. Letting him lead you with the dance of his lips. Letting him sway you to his own silent rhythm. Letting him, letting him.

It was like a waking dream to feel him in this way. To feel the angles of his body rock into yours, timed with the rhythm of his mouth. Such sensual movements coming fromthe man whose heated glances often gave you pause to wonder. It was a fantasy you could get lost in. Words—as they had been since you had met—were too bold, too brash, too loud. But here, you could tell him anything you wanted. So you told him, whispered the deep desires of your heart with a slow grind of your pelvis. He answered with a moan—sticky sweet, rippling across your tongue and down your throat.

Your arms released slightly from their seat atop his shoulders, unable to mask your delight in the softness of his curls against your wrists and fingers, how the ringlets slipped through them like silk. How desperately you’d longed to touch them. How suddenly evident that was.

It felt so good to feel him with the wholeness of your hands—free now to wander wherever they pleased. Possessed by the animal stirring inside you, they padded up the ridges of his neck, tangled in the hair at the nape and tugged.

Eddie groaned into your mouth, surprise and delight ghosting hotly on your tongue. It jolted in the space between your legs, aching alive with every movement of his body, every sigh and sound. It ached for more, curious about what else you could coax out of him. Breaking from his lips, yours traveled south, over and under the ridge of his jaw, delighting in the barely-there brush of sandpaper stubble as you tracked it, the way he tipped his head to expose the pale column of his neck.

His scent was so present here—concentrated, rich, and sweet all at once, clinging to him in the delicate oils of his skin and hair. It spoke to you in a silent language, one that the animal in you was fluent in. Heady and intoxicating with green lights, and safety, and irrepressible desire. You pressed your lips to his neck, inhaling deeply as his pulse thrummed with life beneath them. It was a chaste and reverent gesture, honoring his life-force with your mouth as you trailed slowly down.

Eddie sighed at the contact, closing his eyes, presenting his neck to you like a feast. It occurred to him here—in the fuzzy, swirling mush his brain was becoming as the blood rushed south—that he had never been kissed like this before. So reverently and lovingly, as if you painted worship with your lips.

Tendons rippled as he swallowed, and the animal in you stirred to gather a taste. Starting with kitten licks, innocent flicks of your tongue peppered between kisses against his beating flesh, so salty and musky and sweet. His chest dipped in a sudden exhale against yours. Tightening your grip in his silky curls, you angled him to you, jaw unhinging with a mind of its own before swiping a long, greedy trail up his tendons.

“Ohh—” The sound leapt out of Eddie’s throat, surprising even himself. Not that he would have wanted to catch it. He wanted to let you know, wanted to ensure that you continue.

You tasted the velvet vibration under your tongue. Felt the release of his hands, the warmth at your waist, dipping under your cardigan to feel you as closely as he could. Buried in the shadow of his hair and scent, you continued your trek—licking and kissing while his palms pressed you closer.

Eddie was turning to putty by the second, all logical thoughts escaping out his rushing ears like steam. The animal was stirring below his belt; stretching and yawning, tingling awake. Suddenly he was clawing at the starchy cotton barrier, digging up the fabric from where it was secured beneath your skirt.

The air was cool all of a sudden there, tingling from exposure but quickly soothed by a clammy warmth. The animal in you preened, arched into his touch, dizzy from the contact with your skin. It bared its teeth, dragging them slowly along the column of his neck with the next pass of your lips.

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned, unsure in his haze whether it was from the rush of your teeth or the bareness of your flesh under his fingers. Finally. Lids twitching as his eyes rolled back in his head, a memory flickered in—a bustling, crowded hallway. You, standing front of his locker clutching books in your arms. Him, ushering you forward. The first time he’d ever touched you here. He had stored the memory away safely, memorized the dip of your waist under his palm, played it over and over until it wore out like an old tape. Your skin was alive under his fingers now—smooth and warm and real and reacting.

With one hand resting on his shoulder, your other twisted deeper into his hair. Silk between your fingers, nails grazing up the back of his skull. You mumbled nonsense into the wet trail of his neck, nipping and kissing and licking, tasting his swallow as his hand splayed across your skin. There was a whisper of perspiration at his hairline as the room became incredibly hot all of a sudden.

You were reacting. Arching under his fingers, growing bolder and bolder with every pass of your mouth across that incredibly sensitive spot. It made him dizzy, stupid. Absolutely set his blood on fire. With a slow, upward swipe, his hand climbed the column of your spine—up, up, up—until his fingers grazed the clasp of your bra. Jesus Christ. It was hardly the first time he’d touched a bra, but it was your bra, and you were the one reacting beneath it.

Eddie was reacting too. He could feel himself unfurling in his boxers, rising fully to attention. God damn it, Munson. It’s just a bra for crying out loud. But there was no hope of taming it now, not when your teeth were grazing that sensitive spot that made his entire body flush with heat. It throbbed as your tongue dipped below the collar of his shirt, your hips so dangerously close. He wasn’t exactly ready to give you an anatomy lesson, fearful it scare you with its realness somehow.

But you were gone, lost in the smoke-acrid scent of his clothing, in the salt of his skin yielding under your tongue, in the hiss of his breath as it left his lungs. Lost in the warmth of his hand sliding down your bare spine. Pressing raw, wet kisses to the humming stretch of his neck, you concluded that you couldn’t feel nearly enough.

You captured his mouth again, and this time the kiss was open and hungry, sweeping and led by your tongue. Hands breaking from around his shoulders, you trailed over the firm swell of his pecks, down his ribs, around his waist. You pawed down his back with a slow, greedy swipe, admiring the firmness of his muscles under the thick cotton, the way his hips tilted from the pressure as you neared his belt. You did it again, more pressure this time, trekking your pelvis upward across the landscape: stiff denim zipper, steel belt buckle, and—

A hard jab to the hip.

Eddie gasped into your mouth and drew back in horror, lips gaping and sputtering the beginnings of an apology. “I—um—”

Your eyes flicked down at the tent in his jeans, unable to stop yourself. “It’s—it’s ok, we were just—”

“Yeah I know, but—” he swallowed, face like a roaring furnace under your gaze. His hand twitched with the impulse to cover himself, but he redirected it behind his neck, wringing it through his hair with an embarrassed laugh. “I got a bit carried away.”

Your eyes shot back up to his and you fought to keep them level. “No, it—it was me. It’s ok, we can stop—”

“I don’t want to,” Eddie blurted out.

Your eyes widened, lips parting as the gravity of his words set in. It was suddenly quiet enough to hear the clock ticking in the corner, the heat rushing through the vents in the floor.

“I think that’s um,” he sucked his lip, glancing to the side before meeting your gaze again, “kind of the problem.”

The look in his eyes was darkly threatening, brimming with a wild heat. A feeling stirred deep in your core, something like fear but it fluttered and trembled like yearning.

“We can if you do though—want to stop, I mean.”

It was suddenly so real—Eddie Munson standing in your living room, offering himself to you in this very bad way. You wanted to think you’d be good, but as the words left his kiss-swollen lips, all you could think about was how badly you wanted to know how it felt.

Eddie just stood there, forcing his shoulders back against the fear closing in around his heart as he awaited your possible rejection. He followed your eyes as they slowly scanned his form, flushing under your gaze, suddenly so aware of himself. It was a look he’d never seen on you before, a heat that simmered beneath curious amazement.

He wanted you to look.

In all your years of discipline, there had always been a series of events in between you and a moment like this. Coffees, dinners, chaste kisses outside the door of your apartment. It was a long time before you let anyone in, and even still, it had only been one man. One whose cues and advances had become familiar. Predictable. Monotonous. Boring.

You wondered what he looked like under there; that forbidden line protruding under denim, attentive and alert, made ready by your touch. An offering to you, if you would have it. You thought about his skin under the bulk of that sweatshirt as his chest rose and fell, how good it would feel pressed to yours in the dark. How you ached to feel him move in that way. How badly you wanted to know. So terribly bad.

Finally, you whispered the truth. “I don’t want to stop.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, face falling in near disbelief. Suddenly he felt like a dog that caught a car.

Show me, your voice echoed in his mind as the carpet, and your records, and your tree came into focus. Show me, as the lamp beside your couch painted your features with soft anticipation. Suddenly, a dam broke, flooding him with images of Fs thrown face up on a small desk in front of him. Of folded arms and disapproving glares. Of a corner somewhere with his back to his classmates as they played with blocks and snickered as he sulked in time-out.

Show me.

The memories coiled in his belly like a serpent, struck him with a fear that if he did, you might be disappointed. But the way you were looking at him—like a virgin on prom night with your wide eyes and fingers tangled in a knot in front of you—made it all subside.

Slowly, he closed in, umber eyes flickering with a blended hue of want and trepidation. His hand came to your cheek, delicate fingers tracing your jaw as if you would disintegrate beneath his touch. When you didn’t, his thumb grew bold enough to swipe across the apple, palm sure enough to cup your face, angling it upward to meet his lips. It was chaste. Reverent. Different, somehow, than any other kiss you’d shared. His exhale mingled with yours as you melted against his mouth, hand snaking around your waist to pull you close. Every angle of you against every angle of him. No gaps.

And then he showed you. Open mouthed, tongue scooping in a desperate rhythm with yours. The kind of kiss that left you bruised and breathless. You tasted every aching unsaid word between you, cupping his face to capture all of them. Tasted the power of his want, the demand of his tongue dancing against yours. The taste was deep, heady and complex with the knowing where all of this was heading. He showed you with his palms, clawing at the fabric of your blouse, bunching it up to slip his eager hands beneath it.

He showed you with a roll of his pelvis, hardness pressed against your hip, splitting your mouthes into a shared sigh from the satisfaction of the friction. It rippled through every dormant part of you, blooming deep and low. Heat raced to your cheeks, heart thumping in the cage of your chest. It occurred to you then, how deeply love and fear were intertwined. How tangled fascination was between them. How desperate you were for him to show you. Desperate to feel every inch of him. Desperate to experience it all. You responded with a tilt of your hips, reveling in the feeling of his length as it dragged, in the delicious sin of it all. And his touch transformed you, made that deeply-buried need rise up in you full-force.

You kissed him deeply. Eyes closed, swaying under the direction of his palms, tongue dancing in time to his rhythm. How good it felt to just be led, how satisfying his leadership tasted. Abandoning all thoughts, listening only to the soft desires of the animal in you. Yes. Good. More, it whispered. You arched your back, grinding your pelvis sinfully along his length, lost in the feeling.

Eddie was gone. Consumed. Possessed. Directed solely by the need to feel that delicious friction spark and soothe. He braced you, tightly gripping your rear, guiding your movements just how he wanted. Suddenly—as if something snapped in his brain—he was pivoting you in a 180 motion to trade places. Lips breaking only to glance where he was going, he backed you into the wall shared by your kitchen.

“Mmnh!” The noise was pressed out of you as your back met the solid surface. Eddie descended on you, lips locking with your neck, pelvis pressing you firmly to the wall. His hand wandered down your right leg, hiking it up around his hip for better leverage. And you just let him. Pliant like prey, encouraging his savage nature with your sounds.

It was a position you had never been in before—skirt pooling at your hip, thigh-high stockings and panties exposed like a scene from a book you’d gotten in trouble for reading back when you were in high school. It was something you’d resigned to fantasy, to dog-eared pages illuminated by a flashlight under your blankets. Suddenly you were on the cover—chin tipped toward the ceiling, head dragging against the plaster as Eddie trailed a dizzying path down your neck. He pressed you into the wall with a grind of his pelvis, dragging his stiffness along your most intimate seam. You groaned, eyes rolling into the back of your head as the last remaining shred of goodness dissolved. What was left spoke only the language of desire. A language that felt native, yet foreign, like one you learned before words. Before rules and desks and pencils and report cards and curfews and diplomas. Before your goodness forced you to forget.

It almost hurt, in the best way though—his fingers digging into your thigh, the muscles threatening to cramp as you squeezed your heel under his ass to hold your position, sweat tingling the back of your knee. A fair price for how good he felt there. Even under the barrier of the stiff denim, you could feel the way he tapered off, the fat ridge of his cockhead as it rutted over your mound. Firm and insistent.

There was a fire in you—alive and insatiable. Stirred awake with every pass of his hips, by the look on his face when you met his eyes—savage and dark, pinching in pleasure, mouth hanging open like he wanted to devour you. His curls were a curtain between you and the light, a shadow both of you could hide in, swaying in his ragged breath. You snaked a hand over his shoulder, tangled it in his mane and gripped hard at the back of his head.

The sound he made was somewhere between a purr and a whine, thick and desperate as he met flesh below your ear again. It rushed through every cell of your body—dizzying, pulsing through the veins in your hand as you raked your fingers across his scalp. You arched against the wall, straining to present your neck to him.

It was almost too much. You, in his clutches, writhing under the drag of his teeth, the scent of your skin and clothes, the tingle of your nails against the base of his skull. Eddie’s hand wandered down your thigh, swept up in the current of that doughy flesh and the mound of your cunt with only cotton and denim between you. He broke from your neck to get a look at you—stiff blouse disheveled, wool skirt rumpled, skin sinfully exposed, that heavy-lidded, fucked-out look you wore better than all of it. All by his doing. Your breaths exchanged in silence for a moment as his pelvis kept the pace; slow and undulating. His mouth became a gaping O, brows pinching as he reached the apex of his movement before drawing back again.

There was a scent hanging in the air between you. Warm and heady. Deep and complex. One you recognized surely as your own. It was emanating from under your skirt, from that slick, throbbing place. Heat burned your cheeks as Eddie inhaled deeply through his nose, eyes pinching, mouth parting in recognition.

You. So warm and rich and you. Even through the barriers he could feel a slickness, a non-resistance as he thrusted upward over your mound. It drove him absolutely crazy, made the part of his brain that spoke only the language of friction and pheromones take over, made him tingle and twitch and clench with that tell-tale sign of immanent conclusion. Eddie had to brace the wall, close his eyes, collect himself before he lost all sense of control.

“Oh Jesusfuck—” he panted, “I—ohgod—mmm-hmm-hmm—” Eddie trailed off with a crazed and slightly nervous chuckle, biting his lip as he mustered every fleeting ounce of self-control to draw back from the edge. His cock protested, weeping furiously at the denial. Blood was racing through him at an alarming rate. Sweat tingled his forehead, his chest, his hand still locked under your knee. The animal in him was chomping at the bit, pleading for him to unlatch his belt, undo his zipper, push aside those white cotton panties and slide home. He stiffened his jaw. Clawing into the wall, he hung his head with a sigh. “I want you,” he gritted. “You want me?”

The words throbbed. Buzzed. Ached. You looked up at him fuzzily and responded without a second thought. “Yes.”

“Here?” he breathed before sobering to his own suggestion. “Fuck—sorry.”

The lewd heat of his question sent a pulse deep and low, a question that the animal in you had no qualms about answering. But the human in you wanted so much more.

“Forget I asked that, I’m just—hah.” He lowered your leg with a deep sigh. Delicate curls clung to the sides of his neck, tingling from perspiration. He cleared them with a wring of his hand, chest heaving beneath a sauna of clinging cotton. “Just need to cool down.” Suddenly he was tugging up sweatshirt from behind his shoulder blades, pulling it up and over his head. It hit the floor with a thud. His shirt went with it.

He stood there for a moment, filling the silence with his breath as you drank him in; a landscape of smooth, pale skin. You swallowed a rush of feelings coursing through you at the prospect of his bareness. A whole new world to your eyes. Ink mapped the space under his collarbone. Delicate curls dusted the valley between his pecks—subtle hills which plateaued to rows of heaving ribs. You followed the trail of dark hair below his navel until it disappeared beneath his belt. A breathtaking vista.

His skin drew you in like a magnet. Stepping into the sphere of his radiant heat, you traced the swell of his pecks with your fingertips, flattening your palms against the smooth, warm terrain. His heart pounded beneath them. Living, breathing, and bare. With a coy, tentative finger, you traced a path over the ink beneath his collarbone, offering a soft chuckle at the cartoon zombie there.

“I think he likes you,” Eddie joked, mentally kicking himself the moment he said it. But your smile only grew.

“That’s good, I think I like him too,” you offered playfully, tracing the lines of its wispy hair as your teeth caught your bottom lip.

“Good, ‘cause uh,” Eddie snaked a hand around your waist, eyes crinkling warmly, “he’s not going anywhere.” His words were so suddenly earnest, trailing to almost a whisper.

You melted, eyes flitting to his with a foreign but effortless sultriness as your fingers walked the ridge of his collarbone down into the valley between his pecks. You raked over the delicate curls dusting the path, nails dragging bluntly against his skin. A wonder to explore.

Eddie’s expression darkened at the gesture, filled with a sudden awareness of his own body, his own solid strength reflected back at him through your eyes. Carding your fingers through the whisper of hair, you flashed him a glance before trailing lower. The sensitive skin of his stomach rippled softly under your touch before you hopped the ridge of his navel, entering new territory.

Thick, dark hair spread between your fingers—down, down over the swell of his belly, following the trail until it disappeared below his belt. There was a hesitance, a coyness that colored your pause before you tucked them curiously beneath it, feeling soft curls against your knuckles. Eddie swallowed thickly, eyes growing wide with anticipation, flitting to yours like a dare.

A strange, thrilling darkness coursed through your hand, gripped his belt buckle and tugged. You were mesmerized by the flex of his abs, by the buck of his hips in response. His nostrils flared, and a sharp puff ghosted over your arms. The tip of his cock almost grazed your palm, flexing against the black denim, perfectly outlined, flooding you with that darkness again. Pulsing deep and low, it bared its teeth and purred its next command.

You obeyed, dropping your hand to the space between his legs. Eddie’s breath hitched, hands freezing in flexed position at his sides. The denim seam stretched out like a runway beneath your fingertips, bulge heavy and round on either side, hot and humid. It was sinful, the way his balls drew upward under your touch, how clearly you could feel their outline, their weight. It filled you with that irresistible darkness, a badness that swelled as your hand trailed upward. His anatomy was evident even through his jeans—roughly six inches, stiff and thick, veering off to the side to seek space inside the tight cage. The ridge of his tip plumed under your palm, fat and damp as your fingers trailed behind. You swallowed, throbbing at the realness of it all.

Eddie hissed, rapidly disintegrating as he watched your hand trace his cock like it was the most mesmerizing thing you’d ever seen. And it was. Watching him fall apart as your fingertips reset themselves under his package, as they drew slowly across every aching inch. The way he twitched as you neared his leaking tip, the strangled sound trapped behind his bitten lips. You pressed against him firmly, dizzy from how sinful this all was, from the ridge of his tip so evident under the denim, from how badly you ached to feel it raw, feel it sink between your thighs and fill you. A purr rippled in the back of your throat as you offered him another slow stroke, pausing at the tip to draw a slow, firm circle with your thumb.

“Holy fuck—“ he breathed, tipping his head back toward the ceiling as his most sensitive nerve endings wept alive. He was desperate—for you, for your touch, for any friction you could offer. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he should stop you. But that voice was distant, tiny, barely a whisper. What was louder was the rush of satisfaction emanating from under your thumb.

The darkness was growing in you—coiling in your abdomen and stretching through your fingers as you watched his Adam’s apple bob with a thick swallow. Fluid seeped through the denim, and your contact with it flooded you with feelings that made you want to rub harder, faster, to draw other things out of him.

A strangled groan caught in the back of his throat as Eddie tried to tamper down the feelings rising up in him again. The ones that tightened deep within his body, made him twitch and buck his hips to seek your hand. The friction was delicious, overdue, a feeling he was both desperate and fearful to chase.

“Mmm, yeah?” you purred with a voice you almost didn’t recognize, sliding your thumb right under his heart-ridge where it met his shaft, rubbing up and down in short bursts.

“Yeah,” he choked. It was his favorite spot. The one that sent fireworks straight to his brain, made his brows pinch and knees turn to jelly. He closed his eyes, lost in the feeling, drifting away until the sudden absence of your hand had his eyes snapping open. He whined, flooded with equal parts relief and disappointment.

The rise and fall of his stomach had your body suddenly—violently—crying out for the warmth of his skin against yours. Fumbling with the top button of your cardigan, you slipped it free, working the others until it peeled off of you to join Eddie’s sweatshirt on the floor. Heart hammering with eager anticipation, your fingers met the starch of your blouse.

“Wait—”

You froze over the top button.

“I wanna do it,” he uttered.

Hands falling to your sides, you granted him permission with a dip of your chin.

Slowly, delicately—as if sudden movement would cause you to flee—he feathered the stiff collar with his knuckles, brushing it back to expose the slope of bone beneath it. Tracing the stitching down to the first button, he padded the bone-white plastic, ushering it through the slit with his trembling thumb.

You swallowed, heart pounding under the intensity of his gaze as the V in your shirt grew deeper. How soft his eyes were—wide and alive but dipping in a way that could only be described as reverent.

He worked the next button free, exposing a pink satin bow at your sternum, breath fanning the skin beneath it in awe. Like a pearl in the shell of your blouse, nestled between two heaving cups. Unable to help himself, he brushed it with the ridge of his knuckle, smiling as his chocolate eyes lit up.

It was beautiful to watch—the subtle twitching of his cheeks, the angles of his working hands, the curious amazement hiding under his lashes as he exposed you. Such careful movements from a man who could destroy you.

It was nothing like he had imagined. In his countless daydreams involving him taking your clothes off, he’d failed to capture the subtlety in it. The shy dip in your eyes, the rippling of your heated skin as it met the cool air, the brush of peach fuzz hair under his knuckles as he slowly worked you free. So alive. So real.

When he was finished, he stepped back and admired his work, checking in with a meeting of your eyes before continuing. With a warm brush of his hand, Eddie slipped the stiff fabric over your shoulder, exposing your bra and the soft, forbidden slopes of it all. You shrugged off the blouse like a shell you’d outgrown, let it fall from around you till it crumpled at your feet.

You stood there a moment as he drank you in, a sense of power rising in your stillness like a statue at a shrine. With a dip of your eyes, you granted him your divine permission.

Eddie traced the strap with his finger; a shimmering runway of elastic. He’d seen it once before, stored it safely in his memory—black and daring like caution tape, taunting him at a distance as your lips popped from a bottle in The Hideout. Here it was baby pink, rising and falling with the swell of your breath as your lashes dipped shyly toward his roaming hand. He tucked a finger beneath it, impossibly soft skin gliding against his knuckle as he ushered it off of your shoulder.

Your smile was unstoppable, puffing softly through your nose at such an innocent gesture, the way it made his eyes light up with boyish wonder as the straps yielded to his touch.

Eddie swallowed thickly, heart racing as his fingers walked along the underwire ridge, across the well-washed pilling satin under your arm and around your back. He located the clasp, eyes dipping down into your cleavage with anticipation as he pinched you free.

The cage fell, straps trailing down your arms until it landed on the ground between you. The chill of the air had you reacting; puckered and alert as you bravely drew back your shoulders.

Eddie’s mouth fell open.

There was a coyness in your smile that surprised even yourself. A sudden rush of girlishness watching his hungry eyes roam your figure. Not because it was the first time a man had seen you like this, but because it was the first time a man had looked at you like this. Flickering between boy-like awe and man-like heat, you realized that you had never felt more beautiful exposed.

They weren’t the first pair Eddie had seen. Between all the magazines under his bed and the few real girls that had been desperate or curious enough to show him, he had seen all shapes and sizes. Yours were different. Yours he had memorized from the back of the classroom, dreamt about with his elbow propped against the small desk. Yours had existed as only speculation from stolen glances in the small chair next to yours, as a fantasy just out of reach.

Jesus.

Christ.

Eddie blinked hard and swallowed. The details were mesmerizing. Holy in their you-ness. The pebbled skin which puckered into hardened peaks, their unique color, the soft flesh around them. Full and round. Rising and falling with shallow, anticipating breaths. Impossibly real. Impossibly you. You, who he adored from far away, trusting him enough to bare yourself up close.

Tracing a featherlight knuckle along the soft underside, Eddie flicked up to your eyes with a heat that could have melted you. All you could muster was a fluttering sigh, and he took his cue. Cupping your breast with his whole hand, he drew his thumb upward across your nipple, watching the peak of it bend to his touch and pop from underneath it. Mesmerized. On the downstroke he captured it against his forefinger, pinching and rolling the sensitive peak.

A soft hiss escaped you, strangled and desperate to escape. His touch sent a jolt that buzzed through your whole body. All rational thoughts were just noise now, fading away as the angles of his hand came into focus. His hand. There was a roughness to it, a calloused graze that sparked pleasure with every pass. Timid at first, but growing bolder. Through the thickening haze, you watched him watching you—those lust-blown eyes under heavy lids, his features pinched in reverent disbelief. A look he wore unspeakably well.

Eddie swallowed. It was absolutely brain-blanking—the soft, supple skin yielding to his thumb as he cupped that forbidden curve. How your back seemed to arch as though you were a puppet and he held the strings. How your chest—your chest—rose and fell to a rhythm of his making. So much power in a single digit. He extended it in tight circles, studying you, committing every atom to his memory. But watching you slip between his fingers was nothing compared to the look on your face. Your pinching brows, your bitten lip, your begging eyes. A puddle, rendered by his touch.

With sudden animation, both his hands splayed wide, palms clamping over your breasts to grapple in a firm squeeze. Your skin dimpled like dough between his slowly tightening fingers. He did it again, relishing in your fullness, watching with rapt attention the way they yielded to his digits; heavy, soft, and round. Licking his lips, he removed his hands, hovering just above your nipple to rasp a question. “Can I kiss you here?”

“Yes,” you managed, struck with a sudden pang for the fact he even asked. Your answer barely faded out before he descended on you, pressing his pillow lips around your peak, flicking out his wet tongue, taking you into his furnace mouth. You heaved a deep sigh, eyes rolling back into your head. It tingled like a limb that was asleep. You hadn’t known it though, not until he’d kissed you there. It occurred to you—in the thickness of your haze—just how many parts of you had been sleeping. For how long was uncertain, but as you thawed under his touch, the rest of you begged to know what it was like to feel awake.

Eddie lathed his tongue around the peak, pressing his hands to your back to draw you closer, as if he couldn’t possibly be close enough. A hunger had arisen in him, one he’d suppressed on a daily basis since he first laid eyes on you. It coursed through his veins as he latched, surged into his fingertips as he dragged them down your back. His lips locked tight, tongue flicking over that attentive bundle of nerves, sucking it. He was gone, lost in he arch of your back, the heave of your breast against his chin on your sharp inhale, the reward of your moan on your exhale. And just like that, he devoured you. It was sloppy, careless, and yet somehow deeply reverent. The unhinging of his jaw, the way he dragged his whole tongue across your nipple as his bottom lip trailed behind, lathing and sucking again and again until he’d had his fill of one and transitioned to the other.

You’d never had a man consume you in this way; devour you like he was starving. No desire had ever possessed you this badly. But for him, you were a willing feast, and it had never felt so good.

Your nipple left his lips with a pop, eyes darting darkly to yours as he panted through the hanging O his mouth became. This sparked a hunger in you; a fierce desire to taste him again, to feel his bare skin against yours. As if both of you shared the same thought, your bodies collided, slotting at the hips like a puzzle as his arms coiled around your waist. You captured those puffy lips again, delighting in the wet heat behind them. They pressed fervent wishes to yours, ones too bold to utter but distinctive in their taste. His mouth found a rhythm, ferocious and insistent, tongue sliding home against yours, in and out.

Excitement turned his body to a live-wire at the feeling of your bare curves pressed to his, animated with a sudden urge to rid you of the rest of your clothing, to drag you to the bed and make you his. Images zapped through his brain at lightning speed, raced through his blood with every pump of his pounding heart. Suddenly his lips were at your collarbone, lathing a hot trail up the ridges of your neck as the heat sung through his veins. It came out as a mumble against the skin below your ear. “Bedroom?”

It was one word. His voice. So heavy and colored with lust that it tingled through your entire body. A million images shot through your head, rippled and throbbed with the want to experience every one. Eddie paused there for the answer, breathing hotly against the skin of your neck, pressing insistently into your hip. It was a sobering word, and yet the weight of it clouded all logic. The clock ticked on in the corner. Your pulse hammered in your ears. The animal in you responded, met his eyes, took his hand, and led him down the hallway through the door on the left.

It was dark in there. Between the glow coming in through the cracked door behind him and the street lamp shining through the slats of your blinds, Eddie could make out the shape of a dresser, a desk, a bookshelf, the rectangular mass of a bed against the wall to the left. And you—a soft silhouette—stopping in the center of the room to look at him.

There was a small part of you that still could not believe you were about to do this. That Eddie Munson was standing in your bedroom, shirtless and heaving his breath as the faint hallway light made a halo of his frizz. He shut the door behind him, leaving you both in near darkness. There was a pause. A space filled with both your anticipating breaths for just a beat until he descended on you, and then there were no thoughts anymore.

Suddenly it was like you were drunk at a party. Between the wet smacks of his crushing lips, you could almost hear the thud of the bass from the living room, the din of voices bleeding into one outside the door. Every party you had never attended, every bad thing you had always craved to do—flashing behind your eyelids as his kisses intoxicated you.

You surrendered completely. To the fantasy, to desire, to him—parting your lips, receiving his tongue, giving in to the rush of his skin pressed to yours, the waves of him taking you under, his crushing arms around you. In the dark, all hesitance dissolved, all trepidation vanished. His mouth was hot and insistent. His hands, completely in charge. A whine escaped your lips, one that you had never heard before. It was needy and desperate and only stoked the fire in his kiss.

Desire spoke plainly, simply. A language you were learning with each pass of his demonstrating tongue. Soft syllables of “yes” and “good”. Sounds that transcended meaning, reverberated in your chest and throat, distilled down to its essence—love. Pure and true. Rising with each breath. Singing in your veins. You were learning to listen. Learning to forget all you had been taught. Learning to remember. When all was dark and there was nothing left but desire, there was so much to hear, so much to feel, so much to learn, and he was a masterful teacher.

Desire spoke volumes through your fingertips; clawing across the thick muscles of the back of his neck as you collided. It spoke in verses in the breath exchanged between you. Soft stanzas in the rush of skin-on-skin. It moved in daring undulation, a dance laid dormant in your bones, sparked to memory by the soft hair below his navel, by his strong arms around you.

In the dark, there were only feelings. The tangle of his curls around your fingers, the angle of his jaw between your palms. The friction of your dewey bodies pressed together, nipples dragging against the sparse hair of his hammering chest. The muscles of your hands and mouth burned with desperate heat. Every nerve heightened. Every cell aware.

Eddie lead the dance with his hips, his tongue, his impatient fingers—free to seek and roam. It was like every fantasy he’d ever had about you was coming to life beneath his palms. In this one he didn’t need to imagine. It could have been any of them—backstage in a dressing room after a sold-out show, at a hotel somewhere along a desert highway, right here in your bedroom just being real people. There was a boldness that came over him, an agency the darkness provided, one where he could be the sort of man he always dreamed he was. One where his hands were sure and stable, never fumbling. One where he impressed you with his prowess, rendered you awestruck and proud.

Breaking to kiss his neck, you savored the oily sweetness of his skin, the richness of the scent emanating from under his arms—musky and spicy and so indescribably him. You’d caught it a few times in the past when he’d propped his head in his hand on the desk, or stretched toward the sky against the stiff wooden chair. It made you dizzy, filled you with a pang so deep you had to bury yourself in the textbook to sober you human again.

Presently, all rational thoughts were clouded by the tightening of his biceps around you, the tendons rippling under his skin as he swallowed. You flicked out your tongue to taste them, pawing down his smooth back, dragging your nails over his shoulder blades, down, down, down over the dip in his spine, the muscles of his lower back.

In the dark, only the animals in you remained; ferocious and insatiable. Yours felt like nipping at his jaw, his clawed impatiently at the zipper of your skirt, yanking it down, working it free to pool at your feet. You stepped out of it like an old skin, kicking it toward your dresser. Feeling for the zippers on your boots, you steadied yourself on Eddie’s shoulder, tugging them down with a few clumsy hops before toeing them off. Tossing them into the darkness, they clattered against your dresser before thudding to the floor. The same with your stockings, which landed somewhere by your desk.

Eddie’s kisses became sloppy, erratic, barely a split second before his sweaty palms descended on your rear. They clung to the thin cotton fabric—one at each cheek—and dragged slowly, tightly upward. The burn was delicious, stoking the fire in you as the delicate cotton bunched under his palms to expose you.

“I have a condom in my wallet,” he mumbled into your neck.

The words struck you dumb, dizzy, rippled up your spine to loll your head backward. He reset his hands, fingertips raking over your naked flesh, clawing into you like dough. All you could respond with was a thick, fuzzy laugh as your cheeks splayed under his touch—back arched, chest sparking against his, brain quickly turning to putty.

There was no masking his delight as he clawed the cotton fabric, spreading your cheeks like dough under his palms. How pliant you were. Eager. A willing landscape for him to explore. His fingers trekked lower, dipping under your cheek until they brushed a hill of wet cotton. Eddie choked on the sound leaping out of his throat, zapped senseless with need. Snaking his arm around your back, he swiped his fingers slowly over your mound. You were saturated. Soaked through to slick between your thighs. For him.

The thickness in his breath could have rendered you to ash. You arched your back like a cat in heat; fluttering open, throbbing with emptiness. The sound that came out of you was unrecognizable, rising from that deep, foreign place to purr against his neck. You were learning how much you liked this position—like a ragdoll in his arms, eyes closed as his finger dipped under the seam of your panties, as it slipped against your folds. You loved the way he explored you—heated but tentative. Loved how it made you feel—desired, craved. Loved most of all how it made him react, his breathless cursing, how now two of his fingers were spreading and sliding, parting your folds, exploring your heat. It felt unbelievably good. You spread your legs a little, hoping to encourage one of them inside you.

But he didn’t. Instead, his hands retreated. Eddie sucked his fingers, eyes pinching as he savored your tang. They left his mouth with a pop. “I need you, now. Like—like right now,” he wavered thickly. Metal jingled, leather snapped against his palm. There was a pop of a button, the sound of a zipper, a sigh of relief that ghosted over your face. He shoved his jeans down around his ass before pausing with an irritated huff. “Fuck, my boots.”

“Let me,” you offered, crouching down until your knees met the carpet. You felt for the laces, padding around his ankle to find the loops, impatiently digging your nails into the tight double knots to work them free.

It was all he could do just to look at you. You, kneeling before him, fumbling and cursing and so incredibly real. When you finally pried the boots off his ankles, you stood up on your knees, eye-level with his open zipper.

The moonlight bleeding in from behind your curtains made his pale skin glow, accenting the dark trail below his navel. It looked delectable—the swell of his belly before it tapered off to dip below the waistband of his boxers. You pressed your lips to it, nuzzling into the hair before your teeth caught the swell of fat under his navel. It flinched against your lips with his gasp.

You couldn’t help yourself anymore. Your fingers—so trained in good behavior—were suddenly behaving very badly; moving on their own, dipping between his legs to cup his balls. They lurched against your hand, sliding up on either side of the humid cotton. Show me, you begged with your hand as it tracked slowly upward. It felt so bad, in the best way bad could feel. The carpet burning into your kneecaps, the jagged metal zipper grazing the backs of your fingers as you traced upward, the burning stretch of his hardness underneath the cotton, the soaked plume of his tip. So unbelievably bad. Your eyes darkened, and your nose dove into the checkered fabric without a second thought. All remaining fragments of your rational mind were melted by his musk into a fuzzy haze that only understood one thing. It spoke in flutters and wet, aching throbs. Your hand returned beneath his package as you began to track kisses up his clothed, attentive length.

Eddie’s breath hitched, belly ripping in your peripheral as your lips met the ridge of his tip. You pressed a lingering kiss against the soaked cotton. “Fuck,” he hissed, tipping his chin toward the ceiling. He gasped when he felt the warmth of your tongue bleed through the fabric. “Oh—ohhhmyfuckinggod.”

His whine was almost enough to unravel you. Dragging your fingers coaxingly under the weight of his sack, your tongue got acquainted with his tip, flicking up under the fat, heart-shaped ridge, tasting the slick reward which you lapped through the fabric. It was bad. So terribly bad, yet nothing had ever tasted as satisfying or sounded as sweet as the ragged sighs your bad behavior earned you.

You purred, giving him a couple generous pecks before your fingers wedged under his waistband.

Show me, you said as your cool fingers met his molten skin, and Eddie found the strength to open his eyes and look down at you. You, from a thousand aching fantasies kneeling before him with heavy lids and mouth agape as you peeled down the fabric to free him.

It was a proud thing. Holy in its him-ness. Like a singular painting, the motifs were consistent; a collection of lines and shapes that came together to make him. In the plume of his tip you could almost glimpse echos of the wide, pink bow of his lips, the ball of his nose. It curved attentively upward, bobbing with his breath as you admired it with equal parts reverence and heated curiosity until your hand closed the gap.

There was a breath you both let out together, a silent oh breathed in unison at such intimate contact. Eddie had to bite his lip, close his eyes, tip back his head toward the ceiling as your fingers—the ones he’d ached to touch a thousand times—so intimately explored him. He assumed he was not the first man you’d touched in this way, but the way you were grazing with such delicate wonder gave him pause to consider.

Desire flooded your entire body, heightened and exhilarated, tingling with curiosity. Fingers trailed over velvet veins, eyes alight as your knuckle swiped upward along the underside, testing its weight and reactivity until it met the dimple of his weeping ridge. A whine left Eddie’s downturned lips; a guttural plea to continue. Obliging, you gripped him, tightening as he bucked into your hand, velvet skin gliding under your firm grasp. “Mmmm,” you purred on an upward stroke, a darkness rousing in you from his complete undoing.

Eddie half-buried his face in his hand, fingers raking across his scalp as your thumb breeched the ridge, padding over his most sensitive spot before circling his slit. “Ohh fuck,” he moaned. “Jesus fuck.”

It wept under your thumb, sticky and gushing another wave of arousal as you squeezed. “You like that?” came a voice you’d never heard before but liked the sound of.

“Ahhhh-hah,” he breathed a crazed laugh as his balls twitched from the friction and the sound of your voice saying that.

His tip was soft and rigid all at once. Slick and inviting to your thumb. You couldn’t stop yourself from rubbing it, from delighting in the way he bucked and melted and breathed under your touch. Your other hand dipped curiously, zipper scraping your knuckles, hair so soft against your palm as you cupped his sack—heavy and actively tightening against his body.

Eddie’s eyes rolled back into his head, heaving a breath from the pressure mounting inside of him. The animal in him was desperate to chase it—to clench, and spill, and explode—but he wanted to be good for you. Good like he always imagined. He wanted to make your back arch, your toes curl, to drill you till your claws drew down at his back until you howled with your own release.

Mesmerized by his display of pleasure, you pumped your hand, twisting slowly at the top, delighting in the way he rutted into your grip, how effortless his hardness slid within your grasp, the way his breath hissed from behind clenched teeth.

It felt so good. Ungodly good. Too good. Biting his lip, he sent a silent prayer toward your popcorn ceiling, searching for something—anything—in his bank of horrible memories to bring him back to Earth. But as your thumb settled into the spot that had him seeing stars, a sudden wave of fear crashed over him. “Stop,” he barked, hand clamping tightly on your wrist. “I’m gonna—hah—oh fuck.” Eddie hissed a long breath, drawing himself back from the edge with every last ounce of his will.

“Sorry,” you breathed, releasing your grip. His clammy grasp lingered a second before letting go.

“No, don’t be sorry, fuck, I just—” he released a slow, steadying breath through pursed lips before continuing, “I just don’t wanna totally ruin this. Know what I mean?”

You did, and you imagined it for a second; pumping his cock, feeling his balls twitch against your palm as he exploded to paint your chest white, how it would cream under your fingers as he painted the ceiling with the colors of his voice. It drove you mad with wanting, but the throb between your legs was more demanding.

“Don’t get me wrong, it—it feels really good. Just… a little too good,” he said, wringing a hand behind his neck.

With a sensual flick of your eyes, you tugged his jeans and boxers down until he was able to step out of them. Eddie extended a chivalrous hand, and you rose to your feet. Effortlessly, as if they belonged there, your lips found his in the dark, drawing his face between your palms and planting a kiss that lasted a whole breath. His lips parted, tongue seeking yours as his fingers found the waistband of your panties. He looped them through the leg hole with a pointed tug that had you stumbling into him.

“Mmm?” he mumbled against your mouth.

“Mmhmm,” you sighed.

He peeled them off of you, leaving a wet trail that clung to your inner thighs as they passed your knees and ankles. Breaking the kiss, you kicked them aside.

There was a single beat as you both stood naked in the darkness, just breathing as you drank each other in. Bathed in moonlight, stripped away to reveal the truth of what you had been all along: simply a man and a woman. Then, suddenly, as if a trigger snapped in both of you at once, there was a collision. A smashing of lips, a tangle of arms, a slotting of hips as you entwined.

Your whole body came alive at once, zapping with life as his velvet length pressed to your hip, zinging as his lips tracked down your jaw to seek your neck. It was bliss to come undone, to loll your head back and just give in. To let him lead the dance toward your mattress. To let his hands cup your rear, spread your legs and wedge his thigh between them. To let him do whatever he wanted. The sparse hair of his leg sparked along your delicate flesh. It had you clawing at the muscles of his shoulders, arching your back, grinding your pelvis in a way that would have put the novels you kept in your nightstand to shame.

Eddie propped his foot against your the boxspring of your mattress, kneading his hands against your ass as he made a meal of you. The wet trail you left against his thigh had his brain short-circuiting, leaving nothing but the animal in him to grapple with the living fantasy of you, naked in his arms. He could not possibly touch you enough. There was not enough flesh on his palms, nor nerves in his whole body to feel you in the million ways he wanted to at once. All at once, every fantasy he’d ever had, crashing like a tidal wave as his hands steered your hips in real time.

It felt better than you’d ever imagined; the rush of his bare skin under your palms as they glided down his back, the estranged pleasure mounting where his thigh met your most intimate seam, the friction of his teeth against your neck. You were drowning in the most delicious way. Drifting toward some place on the horizon that spoke only the language of heavy palms and panting breaths. Letting him carry you there.

You whined when he lowered his leg—quickly replaced by his hand, spreading and exploring, breaking from your neck to watch it happen as his mouth became a silent, hanging O. There was a fire in his blood that was mounting, throbbing in his temples, blinding him with need as his fingers parted slick hair, carded through your folds, slipped against your eager entrance. Every inch of you. The fever broke, and the sliver of his brain that had urged patience snapped silent. Now, a much deeper voice barked. No more waiting. No more wanting.

Your calves hit the edge of the mattress, sending you tumbling backwards onto the chilly comforter. Eddie was quick to pounce, climbing on top of you, prying your legs open with his. You fluttered eagerly, melting into the heat of his chest as he pinned you to the bed—trapped in the sweetest cage of his arms.

In the course of your relationship, it was always your position that had wedged itself between you. Yours, behind the big desk. His, behind the small one. Your position—a thing at risk of being lost. A mantle. A standard for you to uphold. This one defied them all. Wrong, by all technical accounts, but in all your life, nothing had ever felt so right as your position beneath him.

You breathed together for a moment, chests expanding into one another, foreheads pressed together, exploring the bridge of his nose with your own. Thighs splayed open, heart beating rabbit-fast, completely at his mercy. A faint terror whispered in the back of your mind at the prospect of his bareness, at the ways he could ruin you. And yet you ached for ruin all the same.

Eddie’s tip kissed the wet heat of your lips and the animal screamed from the base of his brain to push. But he caught the hitch in your breath, the way your hips flexed backward in response. He bucked reflexively but stilled, biting his lip with a pained huff. “I’m not—I’m not gonna, I just…”

A soft sense of trust flooded in as Eddie drew a deep breath, dragging himself through your folds. It was a delicious sort of torture, the ache enough to drive you mad. Empty and thrumming with anticipation at the prospect of fullness so near. Drowning in the fantasy of him sinking deep, of feeling him leak from you later. You whined, drawing your fingers down his back as his hips rolled slowly. So dangerously close.

It took all of his strength to hold his position, all his control to keep from sliding in. He liked how it felt; you beneath him, writhing in the cage of his arms. He liked the little sounds you made, how evident your wanting was, how he could feel you almost take him in, how his cock would dip ever so slightly against your entrance like you wanted to. He was stunned by it, delirious from the rush of sensation. “Hmm—” he winced after a few more agonizing seconds, “fuck, I can’t take it anymore.” Peeling himself from your body, he shifted off the side of the bed with a creak of the mattress and into the darkness.

You laid there on the comforter, staring dazed at the ceiling as he padded across the room. Lifting your head to glance, it struck you just how real this was, and yet more startling than his naked form making his way across your bedroom was how comfortable you felt with all of it. How at peace you were as his belt buckle jingled from the darkness, as his pants returned to a heap on the floor, as his wallet snapped shut.

It was suddenly all very real—the cool sheets under his knees as you drew back the comforter, the condom wrapper crinkling between his fingers as he felt for the jagged grooves, the anticipating silence filled with both your breaths. The soft metal split, and he fished the rubber from the package with a trembling finger. Tossing the wrapper into the darkness, he felt for the nub that indicated the tip, the ridge that indicated which direction it should roll. He’d done this enough times to know by now but for some reason it felt like a foreign object; clumsy, slippery in his hands as he grasped himself. Finally, he got it; pinching the nub to roll it down over his flinching tip, he unraveled it until it was flush with him.

You watched his silhouette quietly through the frame of your legs, heart kicking up with a sudden, surprising nervousness as you felt the warmth of his hands on your knees. He resumed his position, settling between your thighs, propped on his elbows. The return of his warmth was a welcome thing; comforting and soothing, familiar and indescribably correct. You both laid there a moment just breathing. Just being. Sobering to the tickle of his bangs against your forehead, the sweat beneath them as you rocked against it, the tang of salt when you captured his lips.

A sudden wave of nerves coiled through his belly as his tip kissed your entrance again, how it gelled with the rush of desire, the fire licking through his veins. His arms trembled under his own weight, the anticipation, the now-ness of it all. “Ok,” he breathed, “you want me?”

You swiped down his face, clearing the stray hairs that clung to the sides of his mouth and sweaty temples. It was easy to answer. Easy to admit. “I want you.”

It soothed him like a balm, washed over his trembling shoulders, his hammering chest. Imbued him with an urgency that had him splaying his knees, rocking his hips, and inviting himself in.

There was a pressure at your entrance—a filling of that aching space that had you seeing stars. When he asked for admission there was no hesitation. You welcomed him with open thighs and hands that tracked the muscles of his back as you received him in one slow thrust. Your inhale stuttered at its crest, caught in your throat before hissing from your lips as you ached alive, ached awake. Finally, with no resistance. Only the sparks of ineffable pleasure as the emptiness inside you was filled at last.

A shudder escaped both of you at once, something closer to a sob. Yours directed toward the ceiling, his ghosting over your neck. You stayed like this a moment—locked, seated, stunned by the pleasure of your joining.

Eddie hung his head with a groan, curls waterfalling around your face as he rutted impossibly deeper. He could have died here, buried himself and made you his tomb. He was crumbling, coming apart, actively deteriorating from the warmth of your body around him, from the all sensations of you, from the stunned satisfaction flooding through every inch of him. Finally, it cried. Finally, finally. The edge was close, a few pushes away. He could feel the components preparing, desperate for release, begging the rest of him to push, push, push. His whole world was spinning, threatening to collapse in on itself. Dragging himself away from the edge with a deep breath, he reeled in the parts that threatened to unravel at at the way you accepted him. How effortless it was, how tightly you hugged him, both inside and out. How your palms gripped his shoulders, soft inner thighs like a cradle for his hips. He swallowed thickly, blinking hard to open his eyes up to you, beneath him, around him like a home he’d been missing his whole life. Finally, he allowed himself to relax into the feeling, to let his weight fall against your belly. Flush with every angle, gasping into the soft crook of your shoulder.

You drew him impossibly closer, tucking your ankles under his rear, raking your fingers across his scalp as he settled. The fullness was ecstatic, the stretch so deep it was like he was burrowing behind your navel, radiating dull pleasure from the space he occupied. It was a perfect fit. Tailor-made to reach the points that pined for pressure in both of you. So full you felt like you could burst. So full it prickled at the corners of your eyes, exited your downturned mouth in a gasp—a silent prayer, a thank you toward one that was answered. One you had asked for in secret, pressed into the folds of linen napkins, whispered into the ceiling of The Hideout as the stage lights touched your face. You could have stayed like this forever, merged and crystalized. Deliriously, you prayed you would, and yet you ached to feel his love animated. To be battered by it. Bruised by it. Bullied by his fierce, frenetic love. By an energy you had glimpsed in stolen moments, witnessed him harness on stage, tasted in the smoke on his tongue.

Eddie raised his head to look at you, admiring the shading of your features in the near darkness, the bliss painted across your lips, your heavy lids. A waking dream. You tipped your chin, feathering his mouth with yours; sensual, playful, eager. He brushed against your parted lips, twin breaths mingling in soft pants before an urge arrested him. It was loud and all-consuming, shouting from the base of his brain, seizing his hips to draw back and roll forward. It had both of you seeing stars, grunting soft exclamations into the fractional distance between you. The sound and the friction gelled like a gas to feed the fire coursing through him, igniting a fierce urge to move, to show you, to deliver his promise.

And just like that he was gone. Possessed. Arrested by a driving need that had him hunkering forward, rocking his hips to a rhythm older than either of you could imagine. Familiar, ingrained, and almost involuntary. The pleasure had him drilling down to chase it; open-mouthed, eyes pinched, swept away by the current of his own making. He was dizzy with it. Lost in it. Fisting the sheets as his hips met your thighs with quick, heavy smacks. Desperate and frantic, hurtling toward his edge at a terrifying speed.

A moan was punched out of you—guttural, gasping. One that had your neck craning against the pillow as your chin reached toward your headboard. And you just held on; winding through his hair, dragging drown his back, drowning in feeling. Tight ripples of pleasure radiated from every thrust, stirring something so deep you had forgotten you had buried it—the fear that you would go your whole life and never feel this way. It bubbled up through your sternum, burned at the corners of your eyes, surfaced in strangled sounds at the back of your throat.

The friction roared like wildfire between you, and a tightening deep in his body warned him with flashing lights that looked red but felt green. A blended hue of pleasure and fear coiled its way through his abdomen, but he was consumed by you—warm and wet and tight around him. Gasping to his rhythm, making music that he’d never heard before. He harmonized with it, quickening his pace with grunts through gritted teeth. His mind was a swirling mess, forearms burning and trembling, sweat dripping down his neck, but none of it even registered in the wake of blinding pleasure. So good. So fucking good. How badly he wanted to show you, to hear those sounds escalate to screams.

You sobbed a moan, splitting at the seams as time and sense slipped away down the current. Unraveling like a spool of thread rolled down a hill. Becoming blissfully undone after a lifetime of being wound so tight. Pleasure sparked through your channel, tears flickered in the corners of your eyes. It felt as though you might break open. “Eddie,” you whined, clawing into his shoulders as you arched against the mattress.

It swirled between his ears, rushed down his spine to throb in that deep, low place. His name, your voice, this way. There was a kick inside. A switch that flipped. An urge that he was helpless but to follow, unable to control. His heart rate quickened, breath heaving as he spiraled down a tunnel with nothing to brace but the mattress. “Oh fuck, oh god, oh no, OH—”

It was the moment right before the release that was the sweetest. The tingle he could feel radiating from deep inside like a big yawn. He drew a deep breath with a skyward tilt of his chin, and for a few precious seconds there were no thoughts; no guilt, no shame, nothing at all in the midst of his blackout collision with pleasure. Eddie fisted the sheets, lurching forward as he slammed into you.

Colors. Vibrant and rich. Painting the air between you with each shallow gasp. Escalating in pitch toward a spectacular display. It poured out of him. Every ounce of frustration, every bottled feeling, every unlived fantasy, erupting all at once. He buried it inside you. Hips pressed flush against your thighs, burrowing deeper with every pulse. Wave after white-hot wave. Crashing over him, coursing out of him with open-mouthed gasps. Waves of relief so good it threatened tears.

It was breathtaking—the hue of each pitch. Sharp inhales through gritted teeth that melted into deep grunts on the exhale. Each twitch ignited inside you—sparks that had your eyes rolling back, had you drawing your knees toward the mattress to take it all. You grappled his shoulders, nails bluntly dragging down his sweat-kissed skin, grazing up the back of his neck as his moans faded to soft whines. So full.

There was more. Still more. Coming out in dribbles now, petering to heaves with nothing left behind them. The spasms sent sparks inside you, and you fought to savor them—spreading wider, tucking in your ankles under his rear to draw him deeper. Finally, he collapsed, ragged with relief. He stayed like this a moment. Spent. Deflated. Chest expanding into yours as sharp pants dulled to steady breaths.

Slowly, Eddie raised his head from where he’d hung it, sobering to the clock on your nightstand. It mocked him with glowing red numbers, of which he hazily calculated that only three had passed since he’d put the condom on. A surge of guilt rushed into the vacuum that pleasure left behind. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t—” he winced, hips jerking in the echoes of his climax.

His words almost didn’t register through the fog of your bliss. “Sorry?” you breathed, blinking back into the room.

“I—” he flinched again, fisting the pillow beneath you. “I came like, immediately. And you didn’t.”

“Oh—oh no it’s ok,” you soothed, running a hand down his back. “It felt unbelievably good. Like… the best I’ve ever had.”

Eddie heaved a sigh, overtaken by a strange mixture of shame for himself and pity for you. Suddenly he felt like he was back in your classroom, like you were ignoring his spelling mistakes, praising the C he got on his chemistry test. He shifted his weight, becoming increasingly aware of his chest sticking to yours, of the hair clinging to his neck, of the rubber around him straining with his own fluid, tight in the midst of hypersensitivity.

He was quiet. A tense sort of quiet you’d seen from him before. Slowly, gently, your fingers found his temple, stroking away the sweat, tracking down to cup his jaw, settling just under his ear as your thumb busied itself with his soft cheek. “Eddie,” you whispered.

It was soothing. Attentive. The kind of touch a hurt child might receive. A touch he’d craved for longer than he cared to admit, yet in this context, it was the last way he wanted to feel. “M’ gonna make it up to you,” he mumbled. Drawing on his quickly waning strength, he peeled himself from your body to sit back on his heels, still inside you.

It was almost a shock—how chilly you felt in the absence of his weight. How bare and vulnerable. A soft cry escaped you, arms drawing around your body to shield against the cold creeping in.

The sound stirred him, dredged up and compounded the gnawing disappointment in himself. The nagging sense that he was fucking this up too, just like he did everything else. Desperate to hear something more satisfied, his fingers found your clit, drawing tight circles there. But you were still reeling in the pain of his absence, could still feel the shame radiating from him, and it dulled any chance of good feeling.

“Stop, Eddie—” You grabbed his wrist. Eddie sighed sharply through his nose, stilling his hand.

It was flooding in now, that hot tingling feeling he’d felt countless times under the fluorescents. How he’d fucked it all up, how he was making it even worse now. He could feel himself start to go soft, the condom becoming loose, sticky and uncomfortable. He drew back his hips to exit, but your knees locked around him.

“No, please—” The tears were close, right there. Stored from moments before in the height of your pleasure, just waiting behind your eyelids. You took his hand and tugged it gently toward you. “I just want you.”

There was a twinge in his chest that burst at your words, at how they wavered and threatened to crack. At how honest they were, how they felt to hear coming from you. Lead by your hand, he gave in—to gravity, to exhaustion, to a weight he’d carried for so long it seemed to be a part of him. Settling on top of you, resting his cheek against your sternum as heart thrummed steadily in his ear. The pain in your voice still echoed there, the thought that he’d caused it, unbearable. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

You shushed him, stroking over his temple, clearing the hairs that clung to his face. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Your lips found the crown of his head, pressing a long kiss there, inhaling the soft scent that filled you with an indescribable warmth. “I love you,” you whispered. “I love you.”

The words reverberated through your chest into his ear, softening the clench in his jaw, the tightness in his shoulders. Eddie took a shaky breath through his nose. “I love you so much,” he wavered thickly, “I just—I just want to show you—”

It nearly broke you; the pain behind his words, the sudden realization of where they came from. You shushed him again, thumb soothing over his cheek. “You have.”

A knot released in his chest, undone by your careful fingers, exiting as a shallow sob he’d been harboring for longer than these last few moments. For longer than he could remember. The weight of it shook you, but you still remained. Solid, tangible, real as he collapsed into you, a haven for his tired bones to rest. It was all ebbing now—the adrenaline pounding through his veins since the moment you got in his van, the heightened sensations across every inch of his body, the sudden rush of pleasure, crashing all at once. Softening everywhere. A numbness settled over his limbs, all doubts ushered away by your thumb.

And then it was quiet. Absent of even the hum of the heat through the vents. Engulfed in a protective darkness with nothing but the sound of your own steady breathing—slow and soothing. Chests rising and falling against one another, lulled by a rhythm only the two of you could hear.

His hand found yours in the dark, trailing across your wrist, sliding up your palm to lace his fingers between yours. The bones of his knuckles filled the empty space with a comforting stretch. Just like he’d done a dozen times in the shadows, like he’d done a thousand times in your daydreams. You squeezed back tightly, and for a still, silent moment, there was no separation. No gap to close between what you had and what you wanted.

It was good like this. Alone. Together. Stroking his temple, feeling the crinkle of his smile against your palm, the cadence of his breath as it slowed nearly to sleep. Drifting off to some place on the horizon where neither of you had been before. Who knows where it would take you, what perils awaited out over the edge, when the sun eventually rose, when the halls filled once more with the echos of a hundred voices watching. But for now, there was only the soothing sound of your breaths, the rhythmic thrum of your two tired hearts as you drifted there together.

______

Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @raccoonboywrites @storiesbyrhi @trashmouth-richie @carolmunson @keeponquinning @blueywrites @alottanothing @bebe07011 @alizztor @godcreatoreli @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @mrsjellymunson @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @big-ope-vibes @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi @sllooney @lunaladybug734 @callingmrsbarnes @ajkamins @mimsthebannished

There will be a celebration hosted by the lovely @teddiemunson86 and @ladylilylost on their discord server next Sunday, Sept. 1st at 2pm EDT where I will be talking about the chapter and what the future has in store for our forbidden lovebirds! If you're interested in joining, the link to the server is here. I also frequently post snippets and memes in the discussion channels. Hope to see you there!

📝 MASTERLIST ⎮📖 AO3 ⎮☕️ KO-FI

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson older reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x teacher!reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson angst #don't stand so close to me #dssctm #eddie munson hurt comfort

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thebearer · 1 year

Note

what about reader coming to the restaurant before family cause she had a bad day and carmen was pissed off about something wrong that happened but when he sees you looking up at him pouting, his demeanor switches so fast

"Fuck, Richie, can you quit fuckin' with me!" Carmen roars, slinging the bowl with a hard shove.

"Cousin, I'm not doin' shit to you, alright?" Richie seethes, rolling his eyes as the other chefs- the new hires- avoid eye contact. Carmen doesn't act erratically often, tried not to for his reputation's sake, but today was a bad day.

"Hey, cousin, you need to chill the fuck out, alright? Get it out of your fuckin' system now before dinner rush because those people," Richie pointed through the window, where there was an empty dining room- for now. It would be filled by six o'clock. "Will fuckin' see you actin' like a jagoff."

"I wouldn't act like a fuckin' jagoff if you would do what I fuckin' ask you to!" Carmen roared, eyes bulging and vein by his neck protruding.

"Hey, relax, alright." Richie grit, breathing deeply out his nose. "Go fuckin' take a break. We got it. Go see your girl or somethin'. Get that stress out, for fucksake."

"The fuck are you talkin' about-"

"Your girl has been in your office for this past twenty minutes while you were actin' like a moron." Richie snapped, Carmen's demeanor suddenly faltering. "Yeah, get embarrassed, cousin. She heard all that shit."

"Just- shut the fuck up, alright? Fuck you." Carmen huffed, stomping towards the office.

"Don't fuck me. Go fuck her. Get some of that fuckin' attitude out, holy shit." Richie snarled, rolling his eyes.

Carmen ignored him, walking through the door of the office. You sat at his desk, mindlessly scrolling though your phone, barely looking up when he walked in. "I swear to God, Richie's a fuckin' pain in my ass." Carmen started in, ignoring your solemn expression. "Fuckin' wise ass. Thinks he knows fuckin' everything, and you know what? He- What's the matter with you?" Carmen stopped his ranting and pacing, skidding to a stop to look at you. Your sad eyes and long face.

"Nothin'." You muttered, looking up at Carmen gently. "What did Richie do?"

Carmen shook his head, sitting on the desk in front of you. "Not important. Tell me what's wrong, hm? What's goin' on?"

You faltered for a moment, deciding to shake your head and ignore your emotions. "It's nothing, Carm-"

"-You're lyin' to me." Not a question, a fact. Carmen's raised brow to you that. "Why are you lyin' to me?"

"I'm not, it's just..." The shaky breath you took in, a strangled, watery gasp had Carmen's heart lurching. "I just had a really bad day." You hated the way your voice cracked, wobbling and wavering with emotions. You'd cried all the way here, the freshness of the tears coming back to you again, flooding your waterline.

"What happened, baby?" Carmen's tone dropped into a coo, a soothing balm over your teary demeanor.

"It's just... I don't know, I felt like I couldn't get anything right today, and-and I just... I'm really tired." You admitted with a small quake in your tone. "I just want this day to be over."

"Did someone say something to you?" You'd bitched a few times about a coworker making off handed remarks to you, and Carmen was more than happy to say something to him. He didn't mind at all, insisted on it, in fact.

"No, it wasn't Toby." You rolled your eyes at the mention of him. "He wasn't bad today, actually, which made it worse. I just, I don't know, my mind was all over the place today and I-I'm just stressed."

"I'm sorry, baby." Carmen rasped, hand on yours, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles.

"It's ok." You pouted, exhaling deeply. "I just want to go home and not have another fucking thought for the rest of the day.

"Wish I could help you with that." Carmen grinned, playfully, proud to see that you smirked, shaking your head at him. "'m serious. You need me to do anything?"

"No." You shook your head. "I'm starving, so I'm gonna eat and then go home. Sit in the bath until I dissolve." You grin lightly up at him.

Carmen smiled, leaning over to kiss you sweetly, hands cupping your face, tasting the saltiness of your tears still lingering on your lips. "Are you hungry now? I can get you somethin' to eat real quick, baby. What do you want?"

"No, Carmy, I'll be alright-"

"Hey, Marcus," Carmen was sticking his head out already. "You got any focaccia ready?"

"Yes, Chef, I have a few prepped-"

"-Gimme one, please. Thanks, Marcus." Carmen nodded, taking the bread, and passing it over to you.

You frowned at him. "I was fine, Carmy. Could've waited until family." You pouted, but you were already tearing the bread basket open, mouth watering at the sight.

Carmen grinned. "I know, but I don't want you to go hungry. Had to taste tonight anyways. Tell me what you think." He muttered, watching you tear off a piece.

#thebearer #carmen berzatto #thebearerblurbs #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #carmy x reader #carmy smut #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto fic #carmy berzatto fluff #the bear fx

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vibrantshoyo · 8 months

Text

I suppose this is Part 2 of my lil AU I’ve now dubbed SCKAP AU. The C stands for Cora 😊

Part 1 | Part 3

I decided to also have Cora steal Dellinger bc why the hell not! (Delly is also nonbinary I’ve decided)

Drake and Cora being allies. Shachi and Penguin, being the only ones of Cora’s kids to not have bounties (Post Dressrosa) send a nice photo to their grandfather Sengoku. And Dressrosa fits for Cora, Baby 5 and Dellinger.

Oh and Baby 5 (Rosie) is absolutely one of the Worst Generation. She’s the first mate here so it matches up nicely w the Kid and Straw Hats having both Captain and First Mate as part of it.

[cracks knuckles] ok here we go:

Basically, after Cora and Law get beat up by Vergo but before he calls Doffy, Rosie shoots him in the neck (he lives 🙄).

So you got all four of them hauling ass away from Minion before there’s even a bird cage. (Vergo gets saved by the marines on the island so there’s even more of a delay for Doffy to get info).

Cora takes them all into hiding for a few years (including Bepo Shachi and Penguin). Law tho is pretty adamant that the way they’re living isn’t freedom bc they’re still trying to stay out of Doffy’s notice.

Bam - Heart Pirates exist.

Though they decide that they’ll pretend Cora died back then (both out of love for their father and as a strategic move). But of course, man gets a bounty anyway. Not sure how bounties actually get decided on in canon, but here Fleet Admiral Sengoku gets the draft first. He sends Drake to investigate.

So as long as Sengoku’s Fleet Admiral, Cora doesn’t have a bounty. The kids aren’t really comfortable working with him, but they see it as something they gotta do to take down Doffy.

Long ass explanation as to why Cora’s bounty has him in his Dressrosa fit lol

#one piece #SCKAP AU #x drake #donquixote rocinante #donquixote rosinante #donquixote corazon #shachi #one piece shachi #one piece penguin #baby 5 #baby 5 one piece #dellinger #one piece dellinger #dellinger one piece #shachi one piece #penguin one piece #heart pirates #vibrantshoyo #whew that’s a lot of tags

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boxofthings · 10 months

Note

got any roach-centric fic recs? like idc the pairing, ghostroach/soaproach/ghostsoaporach any thats roach focused plzz

*cracks knuckles* I GOTCHU ANON this is my time to shine

If anyone wants to reply with their own pls do!

(These are in no particular order)

GhostRoach:

i left my heart in the mountains (right next to yours)

I'm going to want you 'til the stars evaporate

and here i stand (in the dirt with you)

These are all by Santihan and ugghh these were the fics that pulled me back from my near decade-long ghostroach obsession sabbatical. Well-written, emotional, they are amazing, my favs, I will rec these til I die (the first two are painful :'))

Things That Burn by abel_obel

Such a good one, I always go back to this when I'm in a ghostroach mood. Good ol' classic person A gets injured and person B freaks out

Roach Wouldn't Really Do It...

Exhaustion's a Funny Thing

Both by tinyduckies! Def read the TWs for the first one, but arghhh, I go back to these ones a lot!. I really like how the first one's more realistic/gritty when it comes to the aftermath of surviving Loose Ends

Second one's just a lovely depiction of Ghost and Roach's dynamic. Loved the banter and the second chapter ends real sweetly :)

The Barracks: Part 2

Ulterior Motives

Both by doberman, these two are much longer fics (which ghostroach is in desperate need of) and are such interesting reads!!

The first one is an AU that takes place in a pub with Ghost being his repressed, unhealthy self, and Roach coming in as the new co-worker to sweep him off his feet lol

The second one is ongoing and takes place slightly after MWII with Ghost meeting Roach outside of deployment

Sovereign by Applescone

God, this one really puts me in an introspective mood. It's so well-written and just feels so grounded and human. Takes place years after Loose Ends, with Ghost and Roach rekindling their relationship whilst dealing with the complications of Shepherd's betrayal and death

我给你早在你出生前多年的一个傍晚看到的一朵黄玫瑰的记忆 by Alex_Upshur

Ok I know this is in Chinese, but just use a translator like I did and yeah, while it won't be as accurate as the author wrote it, it's still a really lovely fic and i adore it :') A lil bittersweet look into the 141's lives and sweet moments with Ghost and Roach <3

Of Doubts and Dreams (Retold)

The Hook Up

All written by Call_Of_Booty, an og ghostroach author from wayyy back during the og trilogy (and ff.net) days. The first one's a rewrite of one of their old fics and it focuses on Roach and Ghost's dynamic up until the night before Loose Ends.

Second one's about Roach deciding to leave the SAS whilst he and Ghost have complicated feelings for eachother due to past hookups. Both great reads!

Distance Makes the Heart Pissed Off by krwaken

I'm sure every GhostRoach shipper knows this one lol. A lovely 200k word slowburn of these two <3

Fear & Delight by EpiKatt

Hornet's Nest with more GhostRoach :))

Tell Me Why This Has to End by Feral_Raccoon

ANGST :( Post-Loose Ends. Ending broke me haha

and you wrote your name / right there next to mine by cheese_n_crack

more Loose Ends angst :( A bittersweet ending with Ghost and Roach looking at the stars in their final moments

You'll Get Sick Anyways by ghostslefttit

Very short, but very cute lil fic with Ghost taking care of a sick Roach :))

If We Crash (I Hope We Do) by mintyiecat

Man I can't even begin to describe how much I love this one. Portrays Ghost and Roach's relationship post-loose ends where Roach is now a civilian. Loved how the author depicted their relationship as not flawless. Felt very human and raw. Very sweet ending :)

GhostSoapRoach

Something in the Orange by fixfoxnox

Y'all been knew this would be on here lol

Follows Roach's pov where he's been reincarnated into the reboot timeline with all his memories from his old life and him trying to make his way back to Ghost. This one makes me sad as hell. Has all the feels :')

Something in the Orange by insomniamemoirs & RandomWordsAndStormyDays

Funny how my top two GSR fics are named the same thing, but hey, they're both amazing. I was apprehensive because of the "calling Soap Roach by accident" trope, however they really diverted my expectations and made these three really feel like equals in a relationship. Really love how they made sure to establish a strong dynamic between Soap and Roach instead of pitting them against each other. And Roach isn't just some 2D character here, he's very nuanced and I love it!

Freezing Waters by AmphibianEft

Sweet fic of Roach getting injured and Soap and Ghost freaking out and taking care of him

Stress Relief by Anonymous

Just Soap and Ghost taking care of Roach after Hornet's Nest (smut) :)

SoapRoach

Leg Day by tinyduckies

Good ol' smut lol (09 soaproach mm)

Everything That Isn't Said by pajamabees

More 09 smut

Taste by fixfoxnox

Just 3.5k words of Roach wanting to kiss his captain :)

fall for me by punishervest

Just a sweet moment between 09 Soap and Roach with Soap reminiscing on his past with Price but also considering how he wants something more with Roach <3

She (Means Everything To Me) by mylareading

Just 1.9k words of Soap being down bad for Roach (super sweet)

Roanig (Roach x Konig)

I Really Like The Way You Stare At Me by turqu0ise

The fic that introduced me to roanig <3 Just a cute fic focusing on the development of their relationship

Subatomic by tinyduckies

Another nice fic focused on the development of their relationship. Loved the interactions they had in this :)

These are the ones I have so far! I'm sure later on I can add to the list, and if anyone wants to reply with their own feel free :)

I've also been made aware there are Keegan/Roach fics, but I haven't gotten around to reading them yet, but def check out their tag anon! Hope this was an adequate rec list haha

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seeingivy · 1 year

Text

my love, mine all mine

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content: HEAVVVYYYYY ANGST. does contain one part where a man is being icky/hitting on a girl in a gross way. viewer discretion advised. protect your peace.

an: ok yall. chapter is named after a mitski song we know it's not good. don't hang me at the stake now.

songs mentioned: my love, mine all mine by mitski

previous part linked here

“This is disgusting.” you mutter, as Armin leans over and takes a picture from what might literally be the worst angle ever.

Connie Springer, human menace, has been sleeping on your shoulder for a majority of the flight to Seattle. And drooling on your hair in the process. You make a mental note to kick his ass when he wakes up for being responsible for the globbed up hair you'll have when you see Eren again.

“He’s been sleeping for almost the entire flight. And he slept all day before the engagement too.” Armin murmurs, flicking the picture in between his fingers as he waits for it to develop.

“Typical.” you respond, readjusting so his head falls on your shoulder more comfortably.

You lean your head against his as he continues to snore against your shoulder, the desperation, the anticipation of what you’re going to do sitting heavy in your head. You’ve run through it a hundred times, the words stringing together in your head.

You’re staying with Eren for the weekend. His birthday falls at the end, but he’s too busy to see you guys, so you’ll take him out the day after.

After making ten very aggressive phone calls to the Seattle Aquarium and throwing a nice amount of money their way, they agreed to close off the aquarium for the weekend, so that you and Eren could have it all to yourself.

So that you could drag him there after he was finished on set and lie down flat on the cold floors to just watch the fish swim above you. So no one else is there when you tell Eren that you still love him, so you’re both surrounded in your own little fishbowl. So that he understands you never did stop loving him. That you won’t ever.

You pause. The guilt sits deep in your stomach, eats at the smallest parts of your conscience and corrupts it. The desperation, the anticipation - it sits heavy in your mind. But the doubt, the guilt, and the anxiety does too.

You either get to have Eren forever or you lose him for good. Because Eren is dating another girl and it comes down to something really simple.

If he likes her more or you.

“You okay?”

You look over at Armin and his perceptive blue eyes are peering into yours, his forehead scrunched up near his hairline.

“I-I have a dilemma, Armin.”

“Do tell.” he responds, propping his elbow against the armrest and leaning his cheek on his hand.

“I….I want to do something. But it could hurt someone.”

He frowns, squinting his eyes at you in confusion.

“I feel a certain type of way. And I want to tell someone. But being honest means I could hurt someone else. Sh-should I still do it?” you ask, cracking your knuckles between your fingers.

“Will it hurt you if you won’t say it?” Armin asks.

Yes.

It’ll hurt you if Eren goes on thinking that you don’t love him the way you do. That walking away from him wasn’t the biggest mistake of your life. That him pulling away kills you, because all you want to do is keep him close.

You can’t keep it all in, regardless of what the outcome will be. And for all it’s worth, you have the feeling that when you’ll see him, it’ll get the better of you, that it’ll be a matter of when you tell him, not if.

“Yes. I-I don’t think I can keep it in Armin. I’ve been sitting on it for a while.”

He brings his hand down on yours and squeezes. And then his blue eyes are shimmering, in the pale fluorescents of the plane lights, and you can’t help but smile back. It’s surging through you - the want, the need, the love you hold for him.

And there’s only three more hours till you’re there.

“I can’t believe you’re finally telling Eren you still love him.” he asks, so nonchalantly as he slides the picture of you and Connie, fully developed, into his wallet as he turns back to you.

“Am-am I that obvious?”

“I mean. You feel a type of certain way? We’re going to see Eren? It wasn’t that hard to piece together.”

“No. You’re just perceptive.”

Armin brings his hand down on yours again, squeezing hard, as he smiles at you - so bright and cheery that it makes you excited.

“God, ‘Min. Why are you so excited? You’re kind of supporting me being a homewrecker right now.”

“I-I don’t know. Hyla, I’m sure she’s great and all, but I just don’t think she fares up well to what Eren needs. Not like you do.”

You can feel your cheeks burning at his admission, the compliment and the implication solidifying in your mind. That Armin, Eren’s best friend, thinks it should be you. That you’re good for him. He’s quiet for a few minutes, sliding through the pictures of Jean and Mikasa - the one’s she posted of Jean and her hugging on the ground, minutes after he proposed. Equipped with a caption, that brings you to tears.

the one place i’ll always find myself returning. jeanboy, it’s you and me always.

“What do you think love is, Y/N?”

“That’s such a loaded question to ask me on a dingy ass flight to Seattle, Armin.” you deadpan.

“No, no. Just think. What is it?”

You rack your brain, long and hard. And they all come to mind - your parents, Falco and Colt, Eren, Jean and Mikasa, Levi and Hange.

Levi and Hange. The love letters Levi wrote to Hange, that he gave you when you wrote invisible string for the vow renewal. Maybe the first time you figured out what love might mean. That it was sharing every little part of yourself and every feeling you’ve had - ecstatic, overwhelmed, happy, sad, bored, and soft.

“Knowing each other. Love is knowing each other, Armin. And-he’s pulling away. I-I don’t want him to leave because there’s still so much more of him I-I don’t know yet. I could have a lifetime and it still wouldn’t be enough.” you murmur.

He smiles, leaning his head against yours, as he talks again, his soft voice murmuring into your hair.

“Eren’s known one thing since he met you. And it’s that he wants you around, wants to know more of you, that you’re the best person he’s met. He picked you to be his co-star, called you almost everyday he wasn’t with you, ran into my room and talked to me what it was like to kiss you after you guys wrote New Year’s day, you’re just it for-”

“Wait, what? He did what?”

“Huh? What part?”

“The New Year’s Day thing. You-you knew that we kissed?”

“Yeah. He told me and Marco, like fully woke us up. Said that you guys were practicing the kiss after you wrote the song and that we both needed to kiss someone immediately so we could understand how he felt.”

You snort.

“I don’t remember it being that way. I like totally froze up when he kissed me the first time. We-we had to do it a few times to get it right.”

“Well, it’s always been you for Eren. I bet you could aim wrong and he’d still come and talk about how kissing you is divine.”

“Divine?”

He freezes up, eyes wide, as he realizes his choice of words.

“Armin. Did Eren say kissing me was divine?”

“No. No- we don’t talk about that stuff. It’s- long story, you-you don’t want to know.”

“No. No, now you have to tell me. We’ve known each other forever, it’s-it’s not weird. Quit being all shy.”

“Y/N.”

“Armin! Please. We-I want to know. Please, I won’t tell him and I won’t think much of it.”

“Okay, well. When I started dating Annie, you and Eren had already been together for like a year. And I wanted…to know how to…”

“To?”

“Have sex.” he murmurs.

You bite down on your lip to avoid laughing and he turns his face, cheeks glowing pink, as he whispers profanities at you.

“You’re so rude. I’m not talking about this.”

“No, no! Armin, you’re just so cute.”

“Quit calling me cute.”

“Sorry! It’s just. You and Eren are so sweet, you’re like brothers. Giggling like little high schoolers about sex.”

“We were highschoolers. And you’re acting like you and Mikasa are any different.”

“Yeah! But you guys know we do that, I just never thought you and Eren talked about this stuff. So what did he say?”

“No. This is breaking bro code. I’m not telling you.”

“Armin! Please! You brought it up now it’s going to bother me forever. And-and you and me. We’re cool like that. We can talk about sex because we’re two grown adults.”

“Y/N.” he responds, in a warning tone.

“Pretty please! I’ve always wondered what Eren thinks about me because he-he’s so reserved and-and it’ll help me. When I tell him, to-to know how he felt about me. Help me not back out.”

“You’re annoying. You-you can’t just use that against me to get me to tell you.”

“Fine. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

He groans, leaning his head against the chair, and clenches his jaw. And then Armin’s turning his head, voice all quiet as he whispers.

“You tell another soul and I will kill you.”

“Okay, okay. I promise ‘Min.”

“I-I asked him about it. Because Annie and I were going to….I wanted to make it special. And-and I’m not the type to really, really take initiative when Annie does it first but I-I wanted to.”

“Uh huh.”

“And then I asked him, like. What it’s supposed to feel like. Having sex for the first time. Because, I mean. Isn’t it awkward? And I had heard it hurts for the girl so-”

“I’m trying not to like bite down on my own hand right now. You’re like a little angel.” you coo.

“Shut up. Anyways, Eren said that the first time he-he felt bad. Because it did hurt you and that he just held you after till you felt better. But the second time, he said it was like nothing he ever felt before. That he understood why people do a bunch of stupid shit when they’re in love because it feels divine.”

You swallow hard.

“Armin. He-”

“You’re it for him. I hope I got that through your head. Now just go tell him. And quit making me tell you secrets, you’re breaking every sacred code I have as a man right now.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry, I didn’t mean to mess with your divine brotherhood.”

He flicks the top of your head as you link your arm with his and squeeze hard. And flutter your eyes shut, with him on your mind.

“Connie.”

You reach forward and shake his shoulder, as aggressively as you can, in the back of the car.

“Connie.”

He’s slumped over against the window, fast asleep, despite the fact that he slept nearly the entire way here.

“CONNIE.”

“Huh?”

His eyes flutter open, deeply filled with sleep as he registers where he is, holding his hand out to grab you.

“Con. We’re here. And why the fuck are you so tired?”

“Shhh.” he responds, pressing his finger to your lips as he tumbles out of the car, leaning the majority of his body weight on you as you both walk towards the house.

Not Eren’s house, the one you stayed at when Ricky locked you out, but the townhouse on set since Connie needed to be back as soon as possible. You switch positions with Armin, him taking the responsibility of lugging Connie, as you both walk up to the door.

You nervously reach up to brush the tangles out of your hair and rub the tiredness out of your eyes as you knock on the door, putting on your best smile.

Eren.

Or not. The door swings open and a short girl answers, a bored look on her face and a martini glass secured in her hand. Despite the cold weather, she’s dressed up in a mini skirt and her hair is all clipped up in rollers - clearly from a makeup team by the way they’re placed.

“Can I help you?”

“Um. I’m Y/N.”

“Okay?”

“I mean. We’re here to bring Connie back. He-he’s supposed to start filming again today. And we’re visiting for Eren’s birthday.”

“Oh. Okay fine.”

She swings the door open as you and Armin hold Connie upright, loose greetings falling out of his mouth as he waves at the twenty people that are in the room, their names falling out of his mouth. They’re all lounging around on the sofas and in the kitchen, heads pushed together in their own conversations or on their phones.

“Connie. We-where are you supposed to go?”

“Uh. Right. We-we can just go to my room.”

He drags you and Armin up the stairs, even more people crowding the area, as you shuffle past and make your way up. Connie shoves you both into his room, the two of you falling on his sofa, as you watch him shut himself in the bathroom immediately.

“Should we try to find Eren maybe? I think Connie’s like sick or something.” you whisper.

“Yeah. But it might take a while, there’s like sixty people in here.”

“I don’t understand how anyone lives here. Lana and Eren staying in a house off set makes way more sense now.” you respond, as Armin pulls you up and you drag yourself through the halls.

You both amble down, observing the mess all around, as you read the names on the doors. You’re both holding hands, hard, so you don’t lose each other in the bustle of people and the sweat hanging in the air. And nearly six paces down, you find the door with Eren’s name scribbled across the door. Armin lightly knocks as you both peek your heads in, to find Hyla - fast asleep in his bed.

You swallow hard, pushing hard on Armin’s hand, as you both quietly shut the door behind you and walk back down the hallway.

She’s sleeping in his bed.

“Let’s just see if anyone knows where he is, yeah?”

You nod and both push down the hallway again to the crowded room you entered in, nervously watching the swarm of people in front of you and nitpicking on which one to ask. Despite the chill in the Seattle air outside, the inside here is sweltering - the mix of people certainly being a fire hazard and responsible for the itching warmth in the room.

One of the girls, lazily leaning over the counter, beckons for the two of you to join her, which you awkwardly accept.

“Who are you guys?”

“I’m Armin. And this is Y/N. We’re friends of Eren’s, we were looking for him. Is he around?”

“Ah. Eren and Lana are probably busy with the Bear.” she says, turning her shoulder and snickering with the people around them.

The bear?

“Well. We’re going to his birthday dinner tonight. You guys can see him then, the bus leaves at like six.” she mutters, shuffling off to the other side of the house and walking away.

“Okay. Thanks.” you respond, awkwardly rubbing your hands against your arms and turning to Armin.

Right on cue, loud music starts blaring overhead and you and Armin instinctively reach to cover your ears, Armin signaling that the two of you should just go outside. You both leave the sticky, hot room and walk out, kicking the rocks as the music blares on inside.

“God. Levi would have an aneurysm if we ever did something like that to the townhouse.” you mutter.

“I think I had an aneurysm standing in there.”

“What should we do?”

“It’s only four thirty. Let’s just…walk and get coffee. It’ll be six by the time that we’re back and we can meet him at dinner.”

“Okay. Sure.”

Two hours later and you’re seated at the most awkward table, in the history of awkward tables. Maybe even more awkward than the thought of the Thirteenth Disciple of Jesus, Ryomen Sukuna, being at the Last Supper.

You and Armin are across from the two empty seats - because Lana and Eren are late. Armin’s stuck next to a weirdly rowdy crowd of people, with Connie at the center, who suddenly has a random burst of energy and has been screaming for a better part of the last hour. And on your left, you’re stuck next to Hyla and Myka, who are way too inquisitive for your liking.

“So like. Can I ask you a question?” Myka asks, leaning into your space.

You shake the glass of water in your hands, perspiration leaking down your elbow, as you give her a nod. You nervously twiddle with the straw in your mouth, biting it into oblivion as she starts talking.

“So. I listened to dorothea. And then I listened to lacy. And I was just wondering what happened between you and Historia? Because your song was really sweet but she makes you look like a bitch.”

You swallow hard.

“Ah. I don’t know, we used to be really close when we were younger and filming Attack on Titan together and stuff. I think we just grew apart. And-you know. Songs are more about their meanings, I-I don’t think lacy is about me and dorothea isn’t necessarily about her.”

“Okay but like. What actually happened? Don’t like beat around the bush.” Hyla states, her tone biting as she swirls her own straw through her glass.

It’s the first time you’ve ever heard her talk, with your own ears. Seen her with your own eyes and interacted with her in the flesh.

She’s scary. Freakishly high cheekbones, slicked back hair, and siren like eyes that pull back to her hairline. A pointed nose, a sharp jaw - and unlike Lana, there are no soft features, no soft expressions to offset the harshness on her face.

“She obviously doesn’t like you. And honestly, it’s fucked that she projects onto you so hard. If she wants to be successful, she should just work harder.” Myka states.

“Historia’s busy, Myka. Got other things on her mind.” she states, making a snipping motion with her fingers.

“Sorry, what?” you ask.

“Oh, you know. Scissoring. Because she’s gay.” Hyla states, the ice in her glass clinking against the straw.

You freeze. And swallow hard to think hard on what to say next.

A topic that you don’t personally broach, and never have, but one people can’t seem to stop talking about.

Maybe you’ve had your suspicions. And you push them down and let Historia be. The longing glances at Ymir when she was putting on her harnesses, the way they were attached at the hip - entirely different than the way you and Mikasa were and more like how you and Eren were.

People suspected. It was a hot topic of conversation, especially after Lacy dropped and the people thought the lyrics were…homoerotic. People were stuck trying to figure out if Historia wanted to be you or date you.

You don’t comment on that. She’s entitled to whatever she is and trying to figure it out for her does her no service.

“So what are you going to order?” Myka asks, leaning over to look at the menu.

“Probably the spicy brisket ramen?”

“Ugh. Ramen has so much sodium. That’s how you get fat arms.” she mutters, flipping her eyes through her own menu.

You swallow hard as you shove your face into your own menu this time, probably drawing blood on Armin’s ankle by the way you’re jamming your leg on his foot. He lifts his own menu as well, the two of you whispering behind them.

“This is what my worst nightmares look like.” you whisper.

“If he doesn’t show up in five minutes, we’re leaving.” Armin responds, giving you a nod.

You both drop your menus to find Hyla staring at you two weird, which you two return with less than peachy smiles and lift your glasses to drink together. And right on cue, Eren and Lana are speed walking to the table from the entrance of the restaurant, absorbed in their own conversation.

Lana takes the seat across from Armin and Eren takes the one across from yours - Lana’s eyes bulging out of her head when she sees the two of you while Eren’s too absorbed in the conversation he’s having with Hyla.

“Ok, I’m here. Quit whining.” he says, leaning his hand against the back of Hyla’s chair.

“Only you would be late to your birthday dinner, Eren.” she responds, giving him a smile as she leans forward to kiss his cheek.

“My birthday is tomorrow, so technically, I’m early.” he responds.

Lana elbows Eren in the side, which he rolls his eyes at before turning his head back to Hyla, who's pointing at the menu.

“Eren.” Lana repeats.

“Huh? What?”

He lifts Lana’s drink on instinct and takes a sip, putting it down as he glares at her.

“It’s non-alcoholic. Calm down, Lana.”

“No. Eren.” she responds, grating her teeth as she gestures her eyes over to you.

And then Eren looks over, his eyes bulging out of his head this time when he sees you. Except his shock goes farther than Lana’s because when he moves his hand off Hyla’s shoulder, he accidentally knocks his glass across the table, the cold liquid drenching the front of your shirt and your skirt.

“Jesus, Eren. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Myka asks, snickering as she looks down at you.

Armin’s quick to respond, yanking his jacket off and placing it on your lap, drying the wetness on your legs as Eren stares at the two of you and then immediately turns to look at Lana.

“Y/N. Armin. What are you guys doing here?” he asks, jaw clenched against his skull.

“They’re surprising you for your birthday. Such sweet childhood friends you have.” Hyla says, giving the two of you a sickly sweet smile.

“Um. I-I’m going to go to the bathroom, my clothes are really wet.” you mutter, beckoning Armin to stay as you quickly speed walk to the bathroom with his jacket wrapped around you.

The second you make it into the bathroom, you shut the closest stall shut and lock the door, hanging Armin’s mostly dry jacket on the ring as you survey the damage. Eren’s drink - bright blue in color - has left a big mark on the front of your white shirt, but is virtually invisible on the black pleats of your skirt.

You instinctively grab for the tissues and wipe down the front of your shirt, which only makes the stain worse. And you don’t know why - why this entire thing is so humiliating, but you can feel tears burning in your eyes and your throat itching with insurmountable heat - as the stain doesn’t lessen, the blue splotch staying.

The door swings open and you hear an immediate knock on your door, shiny black shoes visible from underneath the stall.

“Hey Tinky-Winky. You okay?” Lana whispers, her voice soft as she leans her head against the door.

“Y-yeah. Just, um. Trying to get the stain out, that’s all. I’ll just wear Armin’s jacket.”

“Okay. I-I’m waiting for you out here when you’re done, okay?”

You lift your head to the ceiling, hoping that it’ll push the flaming tears back into your eye sockets as you try to quiet your sniffles and shove Armin’s black denim jacket over your clothes. You open the door to find Lana, sweet Lana, leaning against the door with a smile on her face.

She looks different. Her cheeks are fuller and rosy pink, her short hair growing out to her shoulders. And you don’t miss the soft bags around her eyes, the tiredness sitting in her frame. She opens up her arms, which you quickly sink into, her hands in your hair.

“I missed you.”

“Yeah. I missed you too, La-La.”

She pulls back, her arms resting against your elbows as she talks.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“Surprising Eren for his birthday. We-we missed him.”

She brings her hand to your cheek, cupping your face.

“He misses you too. Lots.” she says, giving you a smile.

You give her a smile back as you wrap your arms around her neck, breathing in her sweet flowery smell, as the door swings open again, only for Eren to be leaning against the door frame. You pull back and look at him - brown hair, green eyes, and no smile - staring back at you.

“Y/N. You-you’re okay?” he asks, shutting the door behind him.

“Yeah. Hi Eren. H-happy birthday.”

He breaks a smile - the first one you’ve seen today - and opens up his arms, wrapping them around your frame as he leans down, lips close to your ear. His right hand is firm on your back and the second one is cradling the back of your head, firm around your locks of hair.

“It’s tomorrow.”

“I know that, Eren.”

“Okay, sweetheart. No need to show off.”

At the sound of your nickname, you’re only wrapping your arms around his neck harder, standing on the tips of your toes, in any attempt to be closer to him. His smooth, laundry smell, his skin soft to the touch, and his hair perfectly tousled against your hands.

“Y/N?”

“Hm, Eren?”

“As much as I like holding you, I am technically trespassing in a women’s restroom right now. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

You pull back, nervously reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ears as you nod, giving the two of them a look.

“Okay so. I’ll go first. Lana, come out like five minutes after. Eren, give it like seven. Not ten, because the timing would be suspiciously perfect.”

Eren squints his hand at you, his forearms clutched across his chest, as he glares.

“Or we could all go back together.”

“No. No, no. That’s weird. Just wait. I-I’ll see you two out there okay.” you respond, giving the two of them a smile and a thumbs up as you push out of the door.

You nervously duck back to the table, buttoning Armin’s jacket up as you slide in next to him, squeezing his hand under the table when he gives you a questioning look. You shake your head as he gives you a nod, the two of you clear and focusing back on the dinner at hand.

“Y/N. Are you hooking up with Sukuna? He’s hot.” Myka asks, leaning into your space.

You spit your water back into your glass as you start choking on the parts that went down, Armin’s hand comforting on your back.

“Um. No, never in a million years. We’re just friends.” you respond, giving them a smile.

“The Promiscuous video was really hot. You’ve never looked better.”

You turn your head to find the guy seated between Connie and Armin leaning over, holding his hand out to you as he talks. He has short black hair and cold, steely eyes.

“Vinh.”

You place your hand in his, thrown off by the clamminess, as he smiles continuing.

“I mean. Some part of it has to be real right? That whole bit where Sukuna’s like on the floor crawling after you walk away, when he pretends to pass out when you blow him a kiss, and when you throw the water on him just to take his shirt off after...you can only fake chemistry like that to some extent.”

“Ah. I’m an actress. That’s my entire job. And the song is called Promiscuous. We-we obviously leaned into a little bit. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“That’s music to my ears then.” he says, smiling.

You know that smile. It reminds you of Ricky.

“Vinh, stop it. And Connie, you’ve had enough to fucking drink.” Eren says, glaring bullets at the two of them.

“Eren. Shut the fuck up.” Connie responds, clearly irritated with Eren. The two of them hold their eye contact, for too long, as you look at Armin.

“Connie. I will beat it out of you again if I have to.” Eren responds, which makes Connie drop his gaze. The group laughs as Eren scoffs, his knuckles white against his glass.

You’re thrown off by the sudden hostility, Eren’s demeanor entirely different from what he was in the bathroom. Granted, he was still a bit off-putting in there, but the fact that he’s…purposely picking a fight with Connie is entirely unlike him at all.

Connie gets so irritated that he storms off, leaving the table all together, as everyone murmurs what a buzzkill he is.

Connie’s always been the life of the party. Even insinuating he’s a buzzkill is downright ironic.

“So. How is filming for the movie going? Which one is this again?”

“Don’t Worry Darling.” Hyla responds, swirling her fork around her plate.

“I’m really excited to see it, you guys. I’m sure it’ll be great.”

Hyla twists her straw in between her fingers as she looks in between Lana and then you.

“Lana Banana.”

Lana curls up her nose at the term, tilting her head over to look at her.

“You’ve just been so busy lately. You’re not really looking fit for your part anymore. I think Y/N should take it. Don’t you think, Eren?”

Eren swallows hard as he looks at you, eyes flitting between you and Lana, as he stays silent. And the beat goes on for too long and no one talks, so you bite the bullet and do it for them.

“I uh. Don’t have time for that actually. Danny and Sareen lined up a four day only show in New York City for me the week of the Institute Awards. I’m supposed to close for that award show, so I-I’ll have a lot of rehearsals leading up to it.” you respond, dissolving the loaded question so Eren didn’t have to.

“Well our next movie. You should definitely join, everyone here loves you. Vinh especially.” she says, smiling.

“Oh! I-I’ll see about that.”

“Don’t you think Y/N and Vinh would be cute together, Eren? She’s clearly into that whole bad boy thing since she liked Sukuna.”

“Oh, I don’t-”

And then Eren’s leaning into her space, lips a few feet away from hers, as he smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear. And then he presses a kiss to the top of her forehead, her cheeks turning bright pink.

“Do you want to get out of here? Just you and me?”

She gives him a giddy smile as she nods, putting her hand in his, as he drags her out, arm secured around her waist. He gives Lana a look over his shoulder as he leaves, which Lana ignores as she gives you and Armin bright smiles.

You settle into the bed, Lana at your side, as you reach for your phone.

you: everything good?

armin: yeah. connie isn’t even here he like never came back. also his room smells like pop rocks LOL

you: so THIS is why he’s sleeping all the time.

armin: everything good with you?

you: yes. i’m sleeping with lana.

armin: okay. sweet dreams. don’t think about stuff too hard.

you: speaking of stuff, i don’t think i’m going to do it anymore, armin.

you: i thought that eren and hyla would be more like…me and ricky. but he actually likes her i think.

armin: yeah. i think so too, i’m sorry y/n.

you: our time just passed i guess. better to keep him around as my friend than not at all, right?

armin: it’ll pass, y/n. it-it goes away. talk to ymir. about hisu. she can help you better.

You turn on your sheets to find Lana next to you, already sprawled over the majority of the bed, and dead asleep. Her expression looks so tired, her deep breaths indicating that she’s already fully out, despite it only being five minutes since you’ve been here.

And she looks soft. Her jaw isn’t as sharp anymore, a little bit of fullness in her cheeks, but the same pointy nose.

It’s pretty. She’s pretty.

You bury your head into your own pillow as you flutter your eyes shut, trying to will away the image at dinner. Except you can feel it in your space, the thought of them together, like you’re being poked.

“Y/N.”

Poke.

“Y/N. Wake up, sleepyhead.”

You flutter your eyes open to find Eren, big green eyes staring at you, with his jacket pulled over his head as the source of the aforementioned poking. On instinct, you reach forward and make contact with his nose, which has him falling against the wall and groaning. The sound is so loud that you both look over at Lana, who is unbothered by the sound and still dead asleep.

You jump up and cup Eren’s hands in your face, fingers soft and feeling for his nose in the dark.

“Eren. What-what the fuck was that?”

“You’re asking me that? You’re the one who just punched me in the nose!” he whispers.

“Are you stupid? I’ve had like three different run-ins with people stalking my house. I-I learned self defense.” you whisper back.

His face softens and he brings his hands up to where yours are - still resting on his face - as he removes them and drags you towards the door. There’s a jacket on the desk, which he’s holding open for you and gesturing for you to put on.

“What are we doing?”

“I-Armin told me you want to take me to the aquarium the day after my birthday. But. I-I can’t. I’m busy but I still want to spend time with you so, let’s go.”

“Where? It-It’s like almost eleven. Aren’t you filming tomorrow?”

“Please? It-it’s my birthday? One hour to my birthday?”

You roll your eyes and nod which has Eren pulling the hood over your hair and carefully zipping the jacket up as he gives you a smile. The two of you tiptoeing through the townhouse as you sneak out. His hand is locked in yours, pulling you hard, as he pockets the keys to one of the cars and drives you out.

He’s driving along the roads, nearly empty, as the moon shines light on the puddles in the road. The car comes to an abrupt stop at a small house and when you get out, the breeze and the smell of salty air envelopes your nose as you march up together.

“You have a beach house?”

“Not mine. It’s a friend’s.”

You nod as the rocks crunch underneath your feet and Eren pockets his keys, shoving the brass into the door and dragging you in. The lights are open and there’s a decent amount of giggling getting louder as he pushes you through the house, a confused look on his face.

“Why are you guys still awake?”

You turn your head to find two people - a guy who can’t be much older than you holding a little boy - frosting cookies over a granite countertop.

“Eren!” the kid says, shaking his arms and leg in his hold until he’s dropped.

The boy runs over to Eren, wrapping his arms around his legs as he excitedly laughs, the sound so loud it pierces your ears. In a good way.

“Teddy. Why aren’t you sleeping, little man?” Eren asks, crouching down to pinch at his cheeks.

The other man, from before, takes your side as he responds to him, giving Eren a knowing look.

“Nightmare, Eren. I’m Landon, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Y/N.”

“Ah. The infamous Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you.” he responds, smiling as he holds his hand out for you.

“Are you here to play with me, Eren?” Teddy asks, jumping up and down against Eren’s legs.

“Not exactly. But I do have a friend I want you to meet.”

Eren looks up, a smile on his face, as he gestures for you to crouch down next to him, Teddy standing in front of the two of you.

“Teddy. This is my pretty friend, Y/N. Can you say hi?” he says, emphasizing each word slowly.

Teddy gets embarrassed when you smile at him and immediately buries his face into Eren’s shirt, the back of his neck entirely red as he nervously shakes his head against Eren.

“Teddy. Just say hi, she’s really nice.” his voice soft, coaxing Teddy to say hi again.

You smile as he turns his head, brown eyes peering into yours, as he awkwardly shuffles in Eren’s arms, his hands knotted together behind his back.

“Hi! I’m Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you.” you say, flickering your eyes quickly up to Eren who's beaming at you as he waits for Teddy’s response.

“I’m Theodore.” he responds.

“Theodore? Since when do you go by Theodore, little man? Trying to impress someone?” Eren asks, reaching forward to pinch his pink cheeks and lift him in the air, which has him giggling like no other.

You laugh as the two of them keep laughing together, leaning against the countertop where Landon’s leaning, the half frosted cookies in his hands.

“So how do you know Eren?” you ask.

“We have a mutual friend. And he keeps coming around, to play with the kid. Uninvited, mind you.”

“We’re sorry to intrude. Though, he dragged me here and I had no idea. So it’s his fault.”

“Sounds like him.” he says, dusting off his hands as he walks over to Eren, scooping Teddy out of his arms.

“Okay, Teddy. Say bye to Eren and Y/N now. It’s bedtime.”

You walk up to Eren, who’s hunching down so your faces are close to each other as you both wave bye, the silence filling up the room as you step back and away from Eren. He gives you a soft smile as he places his hands flat on your back and pushes you through the open door, the sand and ocean glimmering under the light of the full moon.

Eren swipes a guitar case and a blanket off the patio as you both discard your shoes and pad into the sand, a few feet away from where the waves are crashing. Eren hands you the case as he places the blanket flat onto the sand and lies down on it, tapping the spot next to him and beckoning you to join him.

You cross your legs and sit instead of lying down, his head a few feet away from your knees. His green eyes focused on the moon, shining above, bathing you in the pale light. You open up the case, a beautiful acoustic guitar lying in the case and start strumming aimlessly against the strings, not missing the way Eren smiles at the tune and closes his eyes.

“Can you sing me something?” he asks.

“What do you want to hear, almost birthday boy?”

“Invisible string.” he responds.

You smile as you switch the chords, fingers strumming against the strings as you quietly sing, watching Eren’s closed eyes and his soft smile. His dimples on display, the freckles underneath his eyes, his soft, soft hair.

It’s only then that it stings. That you hold all this love, all this big, real love for Eren. That at one point, you felt it together at the same time but that he’s moved long past that.

As you finish, Eren’s shooting up, swinging the strap of the guitar off of your neck and slipping it around his own. He’s tapping the ground in front of him, beckoning for you to lie down in front of him now, his fingers soft on the guitar.

“What song is it?” you ask, head turned to the side away from him and focused on the crashing of the waves, how they roll perfectly, rise and fall to crash against the sand.

“New one.”

“Hm. What’s it about?”

“Marco. He-he gave me this Maya Angelou poetry book on my birthday a few years ago, the birthday where you gifted me the vinyl. There was a quote in it that just made me think.”

“What was the quote?”

“Just like the moons and the suns, with the certainty of the tides, just like hope springing high, still I’ll rise.”

The wave rises. And it crashes. Again and again.

“Sing, Eren. I want to hear it.”

Moon, tell me if I could Send up my heart to you? So, when I die, which I must do Could it shine down here with you? 'Cause my love is mine, all mine I love, my, my, mine Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love, mine, all mine, all mine

You shuffle away from the tides to look at him, his eyes focused on the strings and his fingers plucking so softly. Eyes focused on his lips. The lips, that could end you here and now.

“The moon is blushing up there, Eren. You’re writing love songs about it.”

“The moon is my muse. I can only write songs about her.” he whispers, his hands making their way to your hair, to tuck your flyaways behind your ear.

You feel your cheeks burning, the image of Eren - seventeen and whispering in your ear about how you’re his moon, how you have a pull on him - on the forefront of your brain.

“Y/N. You-you don’t remember what it means?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“This.” he responds, his fingers switching to the other side and tucking your stray hairs behind your ears.

You feel your ears burning, when you remember. The secret signals that you and Eren came up with. And the tucking the hair behind the ears, it’s- it means he wants to kiss you. You shoot up and Eren swings the guitar off, knees hiked to his chest as his green eyes look at you, expectantly.

“You-you can’t, Eren.” you whisper, the thought of dinner still in your mind.

“Why not? Do you not want to?” he asks, whispering back.

“That’s not fair to her. You can’t.”

“You-you heard me right? Nothing in the world belongs to me, except my love. And-and you're the only thing that's really mine. You-you still do, right? Belong to me?” he asks, his voice wavering.

“Eren.”

“Please. Please, I don’t want to beg. Don't make me. Do you still belong to me?”

He brings his hand up to your face, warm against your cheek, which is ice cold from the biting wind, and you lean into it. The warmth, in his hand, his eyes, his honey sweet voice.

“Yes. Yes, I do.” you whisper.

“Y/N. You- don’t get confused. You know what this means right? Us?”

You give him your best smile and nod, your fingers tingling. It means he still loves you too.

He leans forward, eyes closed as he kisses you, warm and soft. The sensation tingles all the way down to your stomach, makes your cheeks burn, and your brain prickle. And you relax, the familiarity of this, so delicate, so unchanged from the time he kissed you last that you can’t help but smile into his lips.

You lean against his shoulder and look up, at the moon above you two, his arms wrapped around you.

“Moon looks pretty tonight, doesn’t it?” you ask.

“Always has.” he responds, his lips soft in your hair as the warm tears fill your eyes.

“Happy birthday, Eren.” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“Thank you, my moon.” he responds.

And you stay there, to watch the sun rise. On the two of you, together, for the last time.

Eren tucks you back into bed with Lana as the sun peaks up, though it’s a battle in itself. Because Lana’s all starfish on the bed, her limbs tangled over every open space on the bed. But Eren’s rude and he’s just flopping her around, until he makes space, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leaving.

And hours later, the sun is sinking down, with Lana nowhere to be found and Armin reading at the couch to the side.

“Hey.”

“Jesus. It’s almost sunset, you’ve been sleeping all day. Whatever Connie has is rubbing off on you.” he mutters, reaching over to hand you a water bottle.

“Sorry. I slept late because-”

Because of Eren.

You jump up and take the seat next to Armin, excitedly telling him everything that happened last night. And he’s smiling so bright, blue eyes glimmering that you’re both excitedly hugging each other and squeezing hard.

“Well. He’s been out all day, but he should be back tonight. Let’s go to dinner before we leave, yeah?”

You nod, jumping up to the bathroom to get ready, the smile on your face aching your cheeks as you reach for the toothpaste. You peek your head out the door at Armin.

“‘Min.”

“Hm?”

“Do you have toothpaste?

“There’s some in Connie’s room. Just go grab it.”

You take your toothbrush and bustle through the hallway, past the crowds of people walking through. You’re lucky you never have to mourn the frat house experience. You’re fairly certain you’re living it right now.

You swing into his room, the smell of candy overwhelming, as you push forward and open the door. Only to find Connie, leaned over the counter, fixing up three lines of white powder with a credit card.

“Connie. What are you doing?” you ask, your throat burning in your neck.

He turns his head and his eyes nearly boggle out of his head as he quickly swipes the powder into the sink and the excess on his hands against his pants. He’s smiling, too big, too synthetic as he grabs your hands.

“Y/N! Nothing! You- it was a joke. It’s not what it looks like, I swear.”

You swallow hard as he presses you into a hug and the dots connect, your eyes burning.

Connie’s doing drugs. It’s-it’s why he sleeps all the time and then suddenly has intense energy out of nowhere, why his nose is red, why Eren told him to stop drinking.

Eren’s words from dinner ring in your head, of how he said he beat it out of Connie, and sit in a bad way.

Eren beat Connie up for doing this?

You pull back and press your hands to Connie’s face, to take him in. His skin is burning hot to the touch and there are beads of sweat matting his forehead, his entire demeanor so anxious, so jittery and nervous that it sets you off. And all you can think of is sweet Connie, so excited and energetic doing this in his free time that it makes you eyes burn.

“Connie. Are-are you okay? Why are you doing this?”

He freezes. And at your words, his entire demeanor changes and suddenly he’s on the floor softly crying, his head in his hands. You join him on the floor and put your hand on his shoulder.

“Connie. What’s wrong?”

“I-I just wanted to be the best, Y/N. I wanted to be the lead for once, I-”

“Connie. You, you’re-”

“Do you know how fucking tired I am of all of this? I-I can’t do this anymore. You- I’m done. I have to quit, I have to-” he says, shaking in your arms as you wrap your arms around him, tears streaming down your eyes.

“He couldn’t even let me have this one thing, Y/N. Eren just had to be the best.” he spits out, his chest heaving up and down as he mutters out more words, a long list of profanities directed towards Eren.

“Connie. You- we can go. Armin and I are leaving in a few hours, you-you should come with us. We-we want to help you.”

“You don’t get it, Y/N. Wherever I go, this thing follows me. That people know my fucking name when I walk down the street, when I go to the beach, when I’m at the doctor. We’re never getting fucking out of this. This is our life now.” he responds, cheeks straight on your face.

You reach for your phone on the counter as it buzzes, Armin’s name flashing across the screen. Connie’s still lying down flat on the floor, his tears falling straight onto the floor.

“Y/N.”

“Armin.”

“Are you crying? I-I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding, let’s just go-”

“It’s Connie. Can you come here? It’s- he’s not okay.”

“Okay, okay. I’m running.”

And a few seconds later, Armin’s pushing into the bathroom and his eyes are boggling at the sight of the two of you and his face falls when you explain. And then your phone starts buzzing on the counter, the notifications constant. You lift it and scroll, eyes flitting through the letters.

mikasa: don’t panic. we’ll figure out a response, okay?

jean: call us as soon as possible okay? ill kill him next time i see him

nobara: i’ll fly out to see you. are you still in new york?

levi: Call me when you get a chance. Hope you’re okay. Hange is going to talk to him.

sukuna: On your side. Whatever you do.

“Y/N. You- there’s something you have to see.” Armin says, dragging you out and handing you his phone. He rushes back into the bathroom to Connie, as you scroll through the tab on his phone.

It’s a video of Eren and Lana, with chunky headsets and microphones in front of their faces. You recognize the backdrop immediately - one of the WBS’s most popular podcasts, called Life in Love.

You press the clip and tilt the phone, eyes focused on Eren and Lana as they start talking.

“The person that you’re most associated with, Eren, is your co-star, Y/N L/N, from Attack on Titan. Can you comment on that, on what it’s like to have your first love be something so public?” the interviewer asks.

“First love is a funny way to describe it. I-I know that a lot of people like to assume things and we’ve never really said it publicly, but we never did actually date. It was a whole thing we did together, while we were filming Attack on Titan. Method acting.”

“Can you elaborate?” the interviewer asks.

“It’s like that thing with Ricky James. I mean, we’re all actors, we’re all part of the entertainment industry. And we do things, pretend a little, to make our art feel more authentic. The reason Y/N and I act so well in Attack on Titan, and win awards from it, is because we do it outside of it too. It’s like we’re acting all the time. You can turn it on and off.”

“So are you just friends, then? I mean, Y/N has an interesting track record with her own friends, like Historia and Jean and Mikasa that many people have pointed out before. Is that something that you can corroborate? That she’s a good friend?”

“She’s a good friend of mine, we-we laugh about it sometimes. And as for the stuff about her other friends, you know. You’re in competition and if you have something you really want, you-you’ll do anything to get it. That’s something I can admire. There’s only one person who ends up on a pedestal and if you have to kick people off to get there, that’s what it is.”

You jump off the bed and rush back into the background, where Armin is crouched next to Connie, his hand on his head.

“Connie.”

“Y/N. Hey, you ok-”

“What were you saying about Eren?”

“Huh?” Connie asks, eyes deeply lidded and his breaths becoming more labored.

You put your hands on his shoulders and shake, as aggressively as you can, as the tears stream out of your eyes.

“What did you mean? What did Eren do?”

“What he always does. Put himself first. Even if I’m the thing at stake.” Connie mutters, his hands shaking in your hold.

Armin gives you a pained look as your tears flow harder, your hands still on Connie’s shaking frame.

“Y/N. Get ready. We-we should leave.” Armin says, hands on his phone as he calls the car.

“Okay. I-I need a few minutes. And we’re taking Connie with us. I-I don’t care if he gets fired or whatever, he-he’s not staying here, Armin.”

Armin presses his hands on your shoulder, squeezing hard.

“I was going to say the same thing. C-calm down, Y/N. Okay? I’ll be back in a few.”

You wait in the kitchen as Armin lugs Connie’s bag down, swirling the glass of water in your hands. Your eyes are focused on everyone in the room, a smaller group, ambling around the room.

“Hey.”

“Oh. Hi Vance.”

“It’s Vinh.” he responds, giving you a smirk.

“Sorry.”

He scoots closer to you, his hand firm on your shoulder, as he leans down, a smile spread on his face.

“So, would you ever think about doing it with me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Faking it. Except, we can do all the real things too.” he says, securing his hand around your face and leaning closer to your lips.

You push his hand off as you put space between you two.

“Why would I ever do that?”

“Don’t act like you’re above it. Eren, Ricky James. I don’t see how I’m any different. Or if you have any dignity to preserve.”

You feel your throat dry, at the impact of Eren’s words solidifying in your mind. That him saying that your relationship wasn’t real only furthers all that hate you received after you told everyone the truth about Ricky.

That you were fake. And it meant now that people were going to start doing it again - start nitpicking every little thing, your relationship with Mikasa and Jean, with Eren and use every mistake you’ve made against you.

And for guys like this, it’ll just make them think this is okay. That you’re easy, that they’re entitled to what you’ve done for others because you’ve done it before.

“It-it’s really different.” you respond, running out of the kitchen.

You quickly duck out of the room as you see Armin dragging Connie down the stairs and make your way over to help him, the itchy, dirty feeling of the interaction you just had being pushed to the back of your mind.

You and Armin lug Connie to the back seat of the car, letting him lie down flat against the seats, as Armin reaches for the last of the stuff to put into the car. Connie’s still twitching in the seat, eyes pressed shut and sweating.

You place your hands on both sides of his cheeks, the tears filling your eyes again.

“Connie. I-I think we should take you to rehab or something, you-you’re not okay.” you whisper.

He’s quiet, still shaking in your frame as he opens his eyes and looks at you. And the tiredness, the red and the pain mixed together has your heart flinching in your chest, cutting deep.

“I hate myself for it. I didn’t want to be like this. That asshole who is high when his best friends are getting engaged.”

“They won’t be mad at you, Connie. We-we understand.”

“But I don’t understand. I wanted to remember it, Jean and Mika, they-they’re special. I-I wanted to remember it.” he says, his voice cracking as the tears start spilling down his face.

“Con.”

“I hate myself for it. I really, really do.” he says, so definitively, so sure of himself that all you can do is squeeze his cheeks in your hands as he falls asleep.

You brush your fingers through his buzzed hair one last time as you step out of the car, only to see Armin and Eren arguing near the bags by the door. You walk up, which stops them all together, as they both focus their eyes on you.

“Eren. Can I talk to you?”

He tilts his head towards Armin, who's still standing there, fists clenched. You give him a nod as he walks away, rolling the rest of Connie’s bags towards the car.

“Did you want something?” he asks, eyes squinting into yours.

“Yeah. I-I want to know what happened. You and I- we.”

“Y/N.”

You reach for his arm, for his fish tattoo right above his elbow and squeeze.

“Eren. It-it’s not true, right? There’s an explanation for this? Because we-we can help you. We’re taking Connie and leaving and you should come.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“Eren. Whatever it is, we can figure it out. Just come with me. Or if you need me to stay, I’ll do that too. We can figure out how to tell the truth about it all. I won’t leave.”

He rolls his eyes, green eyes glaring into yours as he responds.

“Y/N. What part of what I said was a lie?”

You swallow hard, the acidic feeling in your mouth burning.

“Like almost all of it? You and I were real. We loved each other. And we still do.”

He places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes, as he drawls his voice out, each word stinging more.

“Do we?” he asks, his look so harsh it stings and the tears rise to your eyes.

Yes. You do.

“Yeah. What-what about yesterday? On the beach?”

He sighs, pushing his hand through his hair as he falls out of your hold, putting space between you two.

“I asked you if you knew what it meant when I kissed you. You clearly didn’t understand what I was trying to say.”

“And what did it mean, Eren?”

“That was a one time thing. For-for fun. It didn’t mean anything like that, I-I was just thanking you for coming down all the way for my birthday.”

You pale.

“You and I spent hours talking on the beach. About-about it all and-”

“We did other things too.” he responds, his voice biting.

You feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, the understanding registering. That you spent hours on the beach talking, but amongst that there were other things you did too. The pale purple on his neck is proof of that.

“But-but you said all that stuff before. Sang that song, called me the moon and-”

“You’ve always been into that fluff shit. We always say corny shit like that before we do stuff.”

You pale, every memory of Eren whispering soft words against your skin as he kissed you souring in your mind. Because of the insinuation that none of it was real. That he just did it because he knew you liked to hear it, not because he meant any of it.

“Excuse me?”

“You know. The whole “we’re fish together thing” and the songs and all that.”

You stare at him, at his forehead crushed up in frustration and his green eyes, cold and soulless as they stare at you. You look down at his fish tattoo, and cross your arms to cover your own, glaring back at him.

“You’re a fucking liar, Eren. You-”

“Y/N. I’m a fucking actor. My entire job is to pretend like I like you, do you really think I am so incapable of keeping the act up when the cameras turn off?”

“It doesn’t make sense. There’s no reason for you to do that.”

“There is. I want to win Best Actor in a TV Series.”

“And what does that have to do with us?”

“Levi said that this role, if I did it right, could make me the fucking best. And you-you had no experience. I had to make sure that you actually liked me so that I didn’t have to carry you in every fucking scene. So that your acting wouldn’t bring me down.”

"Eren."

"Why did I win an award for the Thank You scene? Because you actually fucking liked me, because you were able to cry and act in the scene. You're a good actor, but you were never that good."

“But what about after? You-we were together when we weren’t filming.”

“You went on your tour. Got distant. Did I ever once make any effort to talk to you when you stopped? No, I didn’t. You broke up with me on that balcony because your team wanted you to date Ricky James instead of me. Did I stop you? No. You know why? Because who you date doesn’t fucking bother me, not in the slightest.”

“You knew. We-we understood each other. That’s why we broke up, because it’s fishbowl and-”

“Who the fuck would be okay with that? Seriously, if it was all in earnest, you think I’d just let you do that?"

“Then why the fuck are you writing depressing ass songs at the Met Gala and then taking care of me after the whole thing went down?”

“Y/N. You’re so fucking naive. That’s what you have to do. I act on the screen and I make people interested in me after the fact. I write songs about you, make it seem like you’re the one who broke up with me, so that people stream the songs. So that people talk about them. So that they’re popular. And then I save you after the fact, because at the end of the day, you and I still have a show to fucking finish and I can’t exactly leave you out there in the rain, can I?”

“Eren.”

“Think about it. After you were good and fine with Ricky, did we keep talking? Did it stay the same? No. I had no interest in putting effort in after that, because I was dating another girl. And I still am by the way.”

“Eren.”

“Get it through your head. You- I had to help you. In whatever way I did. Your parents weren’t famous and you had no ins. I have to do something to offset that if you’re my co-star.”

"No part of real to you? Not even one?"

"It-it's fun to pretend sometimes. But that's all it is, Y/N. Pretending. Faking it."

You feel a hand on your shoulder, squeezing hard, and turn to find Armin, his jaw clenched against his head.

“Are you serious, Eren? How can you even say that to her?”

“It’s the truth. She should try it sometime.”

You choke back a sob, your chest heaving up and down, as Armin lets go and pushes Eren, the irritation sitting in his chest.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you doing this to Connie? To Y/N?”

“Armin. We filmed one show together when we were kids. Don’t get mad when I don’t have the same loyalty that you all feel for each other. It was fun, but I still have a career outside of it.”

“Eren. You loved Attack on Titan. And us, you-you wanted to go back to it so many times after we stopped filming and went on hiatus.”

“Yeah. Because I was in a show that was actually good. Not shitty movies that were flopping. That-that had nothing to do with you guys.”

“Eren.”

“You guys should leave. I’ve had enough.”

Eren reaches for the last bag, grabbing Armin’s polaroid camera on top before pushing the last bag into Armin’s hands. And when he extends his hand to hand Armin the camera, he pulls back at the last second and lets it fall to the ground, with a resounding crack.

All you see is red.

“Eren. What did you just do?” you ask.

“My bad. I broke it.” he spits out.

Armin swallows hard as he looks at it, the camera that’s documented every portion of your childhood, every up and down and in between for the past seven years, now broken in his hands. Levi and Hange's vow renewal, every birthday, everyone messing around in between takes and- he just broke it.

You crouch down and put a hand on Armin’s shoulder, his tears falling straight onto the floor, over the camera. And pick up the pieces with him, the jagged edges hard in your hands, as you carry them over to the car.

You look back one last time, to see Eren with his hands in his pockets, illuminated by the moonlight, you take one last look and sit in the car. And then get in the car and let your tears flow freely. You lift Connie’s head and place it in your lap as Armin puts in the directions. And on your right, your phone buzzes and you pick up.

“Hello?”

“Hi! This is the Seattle Aquarium! We just wanted to know what time you would be coming by for your friends birthday tomorrow so we can set up?”

You swallow hard and hang up, cursing the stupid aquarium and the stupid fish that got you caught up in this in the first place.

You slide to Eren's contact - the picture of you two staring back at you - and block the number. And make a mental note to get your tattoo removed.

“Hello.”

“You’ve sat idle for three months now. And I’m not letting you sit around any longer. It’s-you have to defend yourself. This-you’re better than this. They’re making a mess of you.”

“Let them. Is there really anything I could say to stop them? No and-”

“Watch the link I sent you. Quit talking back with your shit excuses and remember why you even did any of this in the first place. And then call me back when you’re thinking straight.”

The line goes flat as the notification comes, the link in your messages. You open it up, a clip of Hange’s getting their triple threat commendation. Their speech, the one that got you involved in all this shit in the first place, ringing in your ears. The only reason you wanted to be a triple threat in the first place.

To anyone watching at home, in their living room in their rundown pajamas, this is a sign to never ever give up on your dreams. Because that used to be me, and it can be you too. Never let anyone stop you from becoming the triple threat you are meant to be. To let that fire run wild and true and let people see the real you.

The media made a shit show out of you, in the three months that followed. So much so, that you don’t even show your face in public. Because it snowballs so fast, the entire drama around Don’t Worry Darling, around you and Eren and Hyla becomes the only thing people talk about.

And the narrative is simple. You're quickly written off into something you’re not. That you faked your relationship with Ricky James and Eren Jaeger for publicity, that you leached off of their fame to be famous yourself. That it’s all you care about.

Hyla goes on the record and brings up the night you and Eren shared on the beach. And quickly gives you your reputation as a home wrecker, as a people pleasing attention seeker who likes people who puff up her ego.

People like Jean and Mikasa, like Connie and Sasha - who are still famous and good for your image, but not famous enough to over shine yoU. Not like Historia, who you so quickly discarded and then opened a full on competition with when you released your records.

That at the end of the day, all you are is a small town girl from Canada, with a sick need to be at the top of the pedestal. To have people clamoring around you, praising you, because of your inferiority complex. That you're easy, that you have no feelings, that you're not even a real person.

The words churn in your mind, the thought angrily swirling with every other feeling. And the push, the support in a moment like this solidifies your plan in your mind. To let that fire run wild and true and let people see the real you.

The real you.

you’re right. i’m in.

on my first flight out. we’re going to bury this asshole in the ground.

And in the most perfect way, you’ve got the best person at your side helping you. Always known for upstanding honesty, truth, and for digging people into holes when they deserve it. For burying them with art, with carefully chosen words and songs.

It’s what makes her the perfect right hand to your revenge. Historia's always had a flair for the dramatics.

next part linked here

an, again: sukuna reputation era? sorry. girls do it better. (im just kidding, he'll be part of the reputation era but our best baby girl historia will be too). there is just something so insane about them ALL using historia as a piece of evidence against y/n and then her being right at her side. also no one hang me at the stake please.

taglist:

@k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636

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theriverbeyond · 1 month

Note

It's crazy how well-crafted Hadestown is, like there aren't many shows out there that have equally strong messages artistically and politically. What do you think of the balancing of Hades as a character? Personally I love how it's shown that even after his reconnection with Persephone it's his clinging to the existing power structure that leads him to make the deal he does with Orpheus, so it isn't a clear-cut redemption - I think that is what makes it so neither his humanity nor the system he upholds feels hollow.

CRACKS KNUCKLES ok so on a character/thematic/narrative level I'm obsessed with Hades because the political compentary he represents feels so coherent and distinctly recodnizable to like, Figures and Systems Of Power that exist in the world right now

I really really really love how Hades specifically turns to industry because he is *lacking* genuine love/connection/care and using these material comforts trying to fill the void inside him -- "Lover, you were gone so long/ Lover, I was lonesome/ So I built a foundry/ In the ground beneath your feet" -- it feels very similar to how so much of modern life is Being Sold The Idea Of Love And Connection. We too turn to capitalism to replace genuine connection that is lacking in our lives, like how buying and being sold the aesthetics of community is easier than actually creating and being in community. Genuine affection and care vs the feeling of power as you wield it over others.

And Hades doing this only further alienates him from Persephone, and it becomes this vicious cycle of him creating and upholding a system that drives away any actual connection, which then of course only motivates him to Continue Onwards. His "Lover, when you see that glare/ Think of it as my despair for you" with Persephone responding "Lover, what have you become/ Coal cars and oil drums/ Warehouse walls and factory floors/ I don't know you anymore".

And re: Hades' redemption, I think the fascinating thing is he ISN'T redeemed. TO ME!! He gets to the point of redemption and then he turns away, which I think fits really well into the overarching theme of the show, as in, resisting the pull of capitalism feels impossible and often ends in tragedy but we should do it anyway, and also fits the PATTERN of the show, which is people getting to the doorstep of freedom and then turning around.

Specifically, when Orpheus asks "Can we go?" and Hades says "I don't know", that is his redemption point. He wants to help them, but he feels stuck, and trapped in this web he created and sat himself in the middle of. Can he break his own system? And Hades' personal tragedy is he gets SO CLOSE but then the Fates (or like, his own inner dialogue) come in and tempt him away. They make him Doubt -- "If you let him go/ Oh you're a spineless king/ And you'll never get em in line again". He is, at the end of the day, TOO trapped in the system he has created ("Whole damn nation's watching you"), too dependent on the workers he exploits that he doesn't see any other way to live. "That's the way the world is". Hades gets so close to letting them go before he turns around, because he decides that letting them go means letting himself go, and he no longer thinks that is possible.

He does let them try, though. "Give them a rope and they'll hang themselves" he does expect them to fail, because he doesnt himself have hope that another world is truly possible, but he knows Orpheus does. Even as he turns back I feel like he's saying. If you believe another world is possible, prove it. "Show the way so we believe"

And I'm just so obsessed with this sequence because like -- "Show the way so we can see/ Show the way the world could be/ If you can do it, so can she/ If she can do it, so can we/ Show the way" -- the unspoken here is that Hades is watching too, and this is a trial, and a test, and like. He can't break the system. He doesn't know how, he doesn't feel like it's possible. But he's watching, he can't not watch, and so that means like. Orpheus' effort is worth it. His believing is worth it. Even as they all fail, again and again and again, it's worth it.

#hadestown #media blogging #LISTENNNNNNNNNN IM. THIS IS A REALLY GOOD SHOW.#ty anon ❤️❤️❤️ if anyone else wants to talk to me about hadestown i have SO many thoughts ough

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dabisqueen · 1 year

Text

With Consent

Dabi x fem!Reader

⇢ word count: roughly 3.7K

⇢ plot: what plot? there's no plot, just porn (ok, ok. You go to meet up with Dabi at the warehouse but he doesn't show up. Or does he?)

⇢ warnings: 18+, minors DNI, kabedon, lots of kissing, Dabi is a teasing piece of shit, fingerfucking, consensual unprotected sex, orgasms, creampie, no aftercare but at least he calls a cab

⇢ personal note: the second part or rather missing porn to "Without Consent". Thanks to @/sharlockart for allowing me to use your magnificent art again.

Thanks to @/blankexpressions-and-falsefires for being my beta again. Lub u!

9:58pm

Staring at the display of your cell phone, you sighed. It wasn't like you hadn't been excited. All day long you've thought about this moment, the moment where he would walk into the street, his smirk welcoming you like… like what? The boyfriend you never had? Tch…

10:08pm

Letting your eyes wander around, you noticed the dry leaves from the past year trailing a pattern along the ground, the dingy street light barely illuminating the street.

What are you doing here anyway?

10:20pm

Your knuckles turned white with the way you strained your grip on your phone. This was the right meeting place. There was only one abandoned factory in town.

Should've stayed home tonight.

Shuffling your feet, you clasped your open jacket shut. The air outside had gotten a little chilly, the warmth of the summer day dissipating quickly. It hadn't been as cold or breezy as yesterday but still - you felt a little chill creeping up your spine with the skimpy dress you were wearing.

10:30pm

Well, this sucks.

With a frustrated sigh, you stuffed your phone back into your pocket and headed down the cracked sidewalk, skipping over some potholes as the light of the dim street lamp slowly faded behind you.

When you rounded the corner of the building, a hand clamped around your arm and pulled you into the darkness.

A second hand covered your mouth, muffling your rising scream. You stumbled backward, until your back was pressed against the brick building. The hand holding your arm let go and slapped against the wall beside you, boxing you in.

"Leaving already?" Someone chuckled against your ear. "I thought we had a date?"

You would have recognized that voice anywhere.

Dabi.

Your eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, dragging from the dip of his collarbone right in front of you all the way up to his face. It was indeed him, strikingly handsome as always– you tried your best not to shrink beneath the intensity of his gaze.

"You didn't show up!" You tried to defend yourself.

"I was here the whole time, doll– " his eyebrows drifted upward, sly and smug, "–watching you."

You blinked dumbly.

"You were there the entire time?" You were trying not to tense too much.

He didn't answer. He didn't need to, the way the corners of his mouth quirked up suspiciously was all the answer you needed.

"You’re such a fucking asshole," you spat.

"Villains aren't nice, sweetheart," he said with a cocky smile on his face, "didn't ya know?"

Biting your lower lip, your face heated up from embarrassment but– something else lurked beneath the shame.

His azure eyes trailed along your face, tracing every feature carefully, slowly, lingering on your mouth. His free hand came up, thumb running over your lips.

"Missed those," he revered, lust-filled azure eyes trained on your lips.

"Dabi, w-what do you want?" Heat bloomed in your face at his proximity.

"Can't you guess?" He angled his face to the side, slotting it closer to yours.

You tried to move but his thigh slipped between your legs, hips pinning you in place. It made your heart pick up its pace as you flattened yourself further against the building.

He tutted quietly. "It's rude to leave without answering someone's question."

Your head thumped against the bricks when you realized he was moving even closer, eating up the space between you. This close, you could see the brilliant hue of his sapphire irises, framed by thick dark lashes that complemented his intense gaze.

You tilted your head to the side, cutting eye contact, heart fluttering like a butterfly. His warm breath ghosted over your ear as strands of his messy raven hair tickled against your cheek.

"J-Just– stop the teasing already...” You stuttered, your voice cracking.

"I thought you liked it… had to clean my pants after our last encounter." He trailed off into a half-hearted chuckle.

"Fuck you!" You spat, knowing all too well that he had hit the nail on the head.

"Hm– what was that?" His lips brushed over the rim of your ear.

"Y-You –ahhh– heard me right." You uttered, distracted as he continued ghosting your ear. His lips were warm and soft, the rough texture of his calloused lower lip a teasing stark contrast.

"Say it again." He cooed.

He was such a little shit.

"F-fuck you." you mumbled, feeling the heat rush to your ears.

He laughed airily, "Such a naughty lil girl, aren't ya—"

"I'm not…" it was hard trying to think with the way his mismatched lips pulled into a teasing smirk against your skin.

"I think you are. Meeting a villain at night, wearing this—" his hips rolled slowly against yours, "—skimpy dress."

"I-It's not skimpy." You swallowed hard, heat rising to your face.

But he was right. You had dressed up for him in hopes of doing more than just kissing.

And you were getting off on this. On him.

Deep down inside you knew that you had already lost the game. Your hands tentatively came to a rest on his belt as you leaned your head against his shoulder, breathing him in, his smoky scent, his comforting warmth.

"Good girl," Dabi rasped as his lips finally met your skin, licking over your earlobe before sucking it into his warm mouth.

…Shit.

You lost your strength right there and then, your knees buckling under you. A soft, breathy moan escaped you and you felt it travel right into the growing swell of his cock at your hips.

Goosebumps rippled across your skin, causing every hair to stand straight. There was no helping it. Parting your lips, another breathy moan escaped you as Dabi's tongue flicked over the soft piece of flesh before pulling back, releasing it with a pop.

Your resolve was wearing thin as his lips– so soft, so warm– trailed along your cheek. There was only one thing on your mind– the desire to have this man all over you, touching you, kissing you– inside of you.

Clutching his belt tighter, you drew him in, pressing your hips against his hard erection. It was all you could manage right now, with your brain succumbing to his scent, his heat– his very presence.

His hand moved up your thigh, hitching your dress up high, tracing small circles on your skin, with each pass drawing closer and closer to your core. Every time his pinkie slid closer to the seam of your panties, you felt ready to explode, wanting more than just his fingers brushing along your skin.

"What happened to the attitude?" He murmured, his fingers dancing closer to your puffy folds.

You were trying to formulate a response, really trying. But your brain short circuited and you were left sucking in short little breaths instead. With one more graze of his pinkie you decided you had enough of his teasing.

"Dabi, stop the games." A small trembling whimper –all you could manage with your heart in your throat– left your lips.

He stalled, his brow quirking up."Oh, you think I'm playing games?"

You didn't know how to respond, your mind completely focused on his fingers going still at the crease of your thigh, the heat radiating off them igniting the fires within you even more.

"I'll show you games…" he growled low and tempting, hooking his other hand under your chin to tilt up your face.

His lips crashed on yours without warning, coaxing your mouth open with his dexterous tongue. It was hungry and devouring and urgent. There was no holding back, entwining your tongues following a low groan that he let escape into your mouth. You were gasping for air, your insides clenching around nothing.

A lustful moan was pulled from your lips, his hot hand traveling up and under the seams of your panties, long fingers finally finding your swollen folds and stroking along to gather your warm, slick juices.

Dabi pulled back, looking at you with molten desire as he started circling your clit, further stoking the blazing fire inside your core.

Arching your back, your head pushed against the damp bricks as Dabi bent toward you, the hot press of his mouth against your pulse intoxicating.

"Tell me what you want, princess." He demanded between kisses and nibbles.

You tried to fight the arousal building up even more with each pass of his finger, but the coil was seconds away from unwinding.

"I asked you a question…" he pinched your clit, making you jerk.

"N-Nothing!"

"Didn't your daddy tell you to not lie to a villain?" He mused, pinching your clit again.

"Dabi, please," you winced.

"Answer me!" His tone became low, rumbling through his chest.

"I-I want you, Dabi."

"Wrong answer." His words were punctuated with another pinch to your sensitive nub.

That fucking jerk! You felt so humiliated but you had no choice, not with the coil inside wound so tight, desperately begging to be released. You looked up with as much courage as you could muster, meeting his eyes before biting your lips.

"W-Wanna cum—" You whined pitifully.

"Atta girl," Dabi chuckled and gave your clit a light graze.

Then he dipped down, pushing three fingers past your tight entrance without warning. You keened, the stretch heavenly, much needed to stoke the white heat into exploding below your belly.

"So fucking wet—" Dabi groaned, starting a rapid pace, smearing your glistening juice all over his hand, your panties, your thighs– everywhere.

His searing tone traveled straight to your pussy. The way his hand pumped between your thighs felt amazing– better than you'd imagined. This wasn't a dream, this was the real villainous Dabi between your legs, fucking you with his fingers in earnest now, reaching deeper and curling them to hit that one spot even you couldn't as his thumb continued to rub your clit.

Please don’t stop… oh God.

It felt so lewd. But more than right. It didn't take long for you to come undone. Losing your composure, you sank into him, eyes fluttering shut as the beginnings of it started washing over you.

And then the tension exploded, intense waves of pleasure racking your body. You felt dizzy, holding your breath as a hot glow spread through your body. Your muscles clenched and released around his fingers as he kept working you through your high.

Then he pulled out, leaving you tensing around nothing, heart still beating a thousand miles a minute. While you tried to calm your beating heart, the blood rushing through your ears nearly made you miss his low chuckle and the clinking sound of a belt being undone.

Dabi dipped down, his hands sliding along your exposed thighs to dig into your ass, long fingers squeezing rough and hard. He had you up in a flash, your arms flying around his neck, your legs coiling around his hips in an attempt to seek some purchase.

"You want this dick in your pussy?" Dabi glanced at you from behind his dark bangs.

You shuddered, knowing exactly what the answer to his question was.

"I need it," you pleaded, so desperate for him, for his cock to fill you up, it had you nearly in tears.

His chuckle resonated from deep within his chest as he effortlessly slid aside the fabric of your panties, slotting the hot tip of his cock, hard and ready, against your leaking entrance.

Your head was spinning, unable to wrap your mind around what was happening, too high on endorphins to realize—

—that you were about to let yourself get fucked by a wanted criminal. A murderer. Yet, a hot one, that allowed the overwhelming ache between your thighs to continue to muddle your brain. Your core clenched as you realized that all you wanted was for him to fill the emptiness inside you.

"You ready, sweetheart?" His eyes met yours while he rolled his hips, slickening his shaft along your folds, gathering your juices on it.

You were about to shake your head because nothing in this world would ever prepare you to be ready for this. But then Dabi slammed his hips against yours, slotting balls deep inside you with one swift thrust.

There was no preparing for how it felt. You felt so full, so stuffed, his girth stretching you unlike anything you'd felt before. A jolt of pleasure tore up your spine and you collapsed against him, helplessly impaled on his shaft.

"Taking me so well," he groaned the words out between gritted teeth. "'S fucking tight—"

Looking down, he watched his dick slip from your drooling pussy, each piercing popping out before he slowly shoved it back inside your gaping hole.

"Kept thinking about fucking you dumb on my cock." He started thrusting into you, the stretch of his cock rendering you stupid.

"Shit. Taking me –fuck– so well." He made sure you could hear every filthy swear he let out while he kept pumping his dick inside of you.

"I'm gonna fucking ruin you." He growled.

"Yes, please!" You choked out.

Your mouth hung open, drool wetting the corners of your mouth, as you cried out his name over and over again.

His cock ground deep inside your pussy as he started rocking into you a little faster now, making sure you could feel every single piercing, every inch of his cock sliding in and out of you.

His biceps flexed each time he lifted you up just to drop you back down on his cock, splitting you open. Rolling his hips, he kept hitting different angles, tweaking positions until he caught that special spot that had you crying out.

"There?" His gaze was heavy with desire, punctuating each word with a wet grind of his hips against yours.

"Y-Yes, Dabi–" you were on the verge of losing your mind, lashes heavy with the tears of overwhelming pleasure.

You tried to focus on him, taking in as many details as you could so you would forever remember this night. He looked like a dream to you– pupils dilated, face coated in a thin sheen of sweat. His lips pressed to a thin line as he took you in, his hips smacking forward, balls slapping against your ass with each rut.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “So damn sexy."

All you could do was cling to him while he fucked you, listening to the wet slap of his balls against your ass.

It had you gasping out, "H-harder—"

"Oh yeah? You want it? You want my cum? Fuck!" He panted, breathlessly, "Gonna make this fucking pussy mine–"

It was all too much. His smokey, burnt scent, the way his cock reached too far, kissing your cervix each time he dropped you down on it. You couldn't help the way you started clamping down on him, tears spilling from your eyes as you bit your lower lip to suppress more cries of pleasure.

"Ahh– fill me up," with the next thrust he pulled a loud mewl from you, "Please—"

"Fuck–" Suddenly, he pulled out and left you empty, your gummy walls fluttering around nothing.

Dabi's face was unreadable, as he stood there, his cock, white and creamy with your arousal, sitting heavy against your stomach.

Letting go of your ass in favor of grabbing the base of his cock, he squeezed it tight, huffing desperately.

"You're dangerous," he growled, trying to calm his breathing and hoping to still his twitching cock. "So fucking dangerous."

His gaze flicked from his dick to your face, licking his lips. For one blink of a second you could see affection in his eyes, lust and desire– all for you.

The moment was gone as quick as it had appeared, making you wonder if you even saw it at all. He slotted his cock back against your hole, wearing his signature bored expression again as he leaned forward.

"Ready?" He panted against your mouth, not bothering to wait for a reply.

His hips snapped hard into you before he upped the pace, nearing his high. You could feel him going deeper with each slam of his hips, each time he dropped you ruthlessly on his shaft.

You held onto him for dear life, tucking your face in his shoulder, fingers tangling into his coat. You just let go, feeling him propel you toward another climax with every vigorous thrust forward.

You couldn't have stopped your orgasm even if you wanted to. The speed of it slammed through you so quickly, you forgot how to breathe.

You started dripping around him, each thrust building up a frothy white ring around his cock as your pussy convulsed to his rhythm. Waves of intense pleasure washed through you and Dabi groaned under his breath, forcing himself to power through the tightness of your walls as you came for him.

He kept snapping his hips up, frantic now, his eyebrows drawing close, the wet shine of his parted lips speaking to his animalistic desire to claim you. Several strands of hair were stuck to his forehead which glistened with a thin sheen of sweat as he groaned out your name.

When his breathing became ragged, his hips began to stutter and with one last thrust up, he remained buried balls deep inside you as his cock twitched with his release.

"Ohhh –f-fuck!" He groaned before his eyes closed shut, painting your gummy walls white, stuffing you full of his creamy seed.

He looked so good cumming, and the idea of him filling you up with his warmth, marking you as his, had you toppling right over the edge again. You moaned as you felt your pussy contracting again, slow deep ripples of pleasure surging through your body.

It dragged another hiss from his lips as his eyes snapped open, meeting your hazy, blissed-out gaze before dropping down to see the thick drag of his cum on his cock when he pulled out. His piercing blue eyes trained back on your face as he slowly pushed back in, the cum squelching obscenely along your folds, ruining your panties when he did.

"Fuck, you take my cock–" he breathed heavily, "–my cum– so well."

After a final thrust, he stilled deep inside of you, catching his breath, his cock slowly softening against your walls.

"Look at you, princess. So messy." His face was unreadable, serious in its intensity.

You let out a weak moan at his words, your cheeks dusted a dark crimson.

When his soft dick slipped out, he pulled your panties back into place, keeping all his pearly seed trapped inside. Gently setting you back on the ground, he watched as your legs gave in immediately. You shakily dropped to the ground, head hanging low on your chest.

You felt some of his warmth flowing out of you, puddling in the small piece of fabric meant to keep you decent before overflowing and dripping onto the dusty concrete below.

Your vision was blurry from all the tears and the exhaustion set in as you continued to stare at the ground before you. He was still standing in front of you, his dark boots just a foot away, pants pooled round his knees. You heard the rustle of fabric, and then a used tissue was dropped carelessly to the ground next to you. Pulling up his pants and fastening his belt, he towered over you.

"That was fun." He proclaimed. "Should do it again some time."

With that he turned and disappeared into the darkness, the sound of his heavy boots hitting the ground slowly dissipating into the night. It grew quiet and after a while you scrambled to your feet, leaning against the wall until your heart had steadied its pace.

What an asshole, you did your best to suppress the sob arising in your heaving chest. Straightening out your dress with your sweaty palm, you rummaged around in the pocket of your jacket for a scrap of an old tissue.

Gritting your teeth, you slid your hand into your panties, stuffing it close to your leaking entrance, trying to stop his cum from flowing out.

So fucking messy, you snorted inwardly, so much fucking cum. Well, it wasn't like you asked for it but he could’ve at least—

The noise of a car pulling up cut your thoughts short and your head snapped up, your hand quickly pulling out of your panties to pull down the hem of your dress. Relief washed over you as you saw a cab pulling over to the sidewalk near you.

Straightening up, a window rolled down and the driver called your name.

Wait, what? You looked in disbelief at the car.

He called your name again. "That's you, isn't it? I’m here to take you home. Fare's paid 'n all."

You remained glued to your spot.

"Well?" The driver cocked his head, giving you a closer look. "Hurry up, I don’t have all night."

"Y-Yes, Sir–" you blurted out, picking up your feet to approach the car.

After sitting down in the back, you were careful to cross your legs to keep the mess between them from soiling the seats below.

As the driver rolled up the window he asked. "So, to this address, right?"

He held up a folded piece of paper in his hands, "Your boyfriend with the dark hair, the one who paid the fare, gave this to me..."

"He's not my boyfriend…" you corrected, taking it from his offering hand.

The driver simply shrugged and gazed at the street in front of him, waiting for you to confirm the route.

Unfolding the paper, you stared at the unfamiliar handwriting. "That's not my address either..."

But then, whose was it?

It took you another second to realize it.

Stunned, you fell silent.

…oh fuck.

747 notes · View notes

stevesharrlngtons · 2 years

Text

a family affair.

tangerine x reader

word count: 3.5k

summary: there is an interloper in tan’s family and he doesn’t like it one bit.

or: tan really hates change.

an: as i said, in my atj era and couldn’t help wanting to write a lil something for tan (as that’s all the fanfic ive been reading lately lol) enjoy!

“All is well, my love,” you murmured comfort to Tan as your eyes roamed the plastic plated pub menu in front of you.

His fingers had been playing an angry tune on your waist for fifteen minutes, the solid gold of his rings battering your skin in a way that had started to smarten. He expelled ragged exhales through his nose every few moments, and with all his fidgeting next to you, you weren’t confident about the headspace he was in.

“I know that,” Tan replied in a cold clipped tone.

“Really? Because I can hear you grinding your teeth from here. Keep that up and when they get here, you’ll open your mouth to say hello and powder will puff out.”

“I won’t be sayin’ fuckin’ hello to ‘er.”

Your brow ticked and you took your eyes off the menu to turn to him, “you will absolutely be saying hello, and you will absolutely make conversation. We talked about this.”

“I know we talked about this,” he seethed and crouched low to your ear to say, “but I told ya then and I’ll tell ya now, I don’t got a best behavior.”

His free arm extended across the table as he shook the linked bracelet he wore back down on his wrist, his biceps flexing to test the already tired seams of his navy button down. The tension pulsing through him was palpable, you could sense his wound muscles and hear their screaming aches.

“Well, you better find one,” you said with a shrug, then returned your gaze to the tri-fold pages in front of you. The loud peeling the pages made as you pulled them apart effectively silence your boyfriend’s anxious knuckle cracking while his eyes burned into your profile. No matter how edge he was, you refused to give into his griping to ditch out on the evening and head home.

This evening at the pub was a night of much contention for Tan, and one he had hemmed and hawed about all week. He pulled out all the stops to get out of tonight, but to no avail. No “forgotten plans” or “last minute jobs” or “I just want to have a night in, just the two of us, love”’s would get him out of this, and deep down, you knew he knew that, too. Because tonight was for his brother, and he would do anything for him. Even this. Sometimes, he just needed a little reminding.

“I don’t bloody understand-“ you cut him off before he could continue.

“Because Lemon was extremely accepting of me, almost more so than you in the beginning may I add,” Tan’s grumbling continued, “so we are doing the same for him. He is your brother and you love him.”

His mustache twitched with discontent and you rolled your eyes.

“If she sucks, then we can talk shit about her all the way home, OK? But until then? She’s innocent until proven otherwise, and we’re giving her a chance.”

“Not wise to quote the legal system to me, love. If ya know one thing ‘bout me, it should be that I don’t give a rat's arse about that.”

“Well it’s not wise to be snippy with me, because it seems I am the only one holding this meeting together.”

You stood after your retort, Tan’s hand that had been resting on your waist fell to his lap. His face soured further at the action.

“Now excuse me while I go to the bar to order us a round. You keep scaring off all the waiters and we need to look friendly and warm when they get here. Beer and appetizers are how we are doing that.”

“Warm,” he scoffed, “I ain’t fuckin’ warm, darlin’.”

“Well,” you leaned back toward him and pressed a chaste kiss to his temple “you are for me.”

He blew out an unconvinced breath through his nose (but didn’t disagree) that left you laughing. You turned to make your way toward the bar before Tan stopped you.

“Just sy’know, if that bartender looks at your ass like he did when we were comin’ in? I’m takin’ his eyes out with a fuckin’ melon baller.”

“Best behavior, remember?” you sing-songed and walked away before he could respond. Though, you knew that his retort was no doubt a string of expletives.

After a good natured conversation with the bartender, whose flirty banter you were glad Tan could not overhear, you armed yourself with your purchased supplies and headed back toward the booth. With four glasses and a pitcher of lager held strategically in your hands, you were so focused on not letting anything slip from your grip, that you almost didn’t notice that your table had grown by two.

“Well look who's playin’ barmaid tonight,” Lemon exclaimed as he noticed you nearing the table.

He stood from his seat immediately to come to your aid, something you thanked him for profusely. He waved you off with a smile and placed his cheek to yours in greeting. You couldn’t help but notice that he was wearing a new aftershave, one that smelled similar to his brother’s, and that his face was clean shaven.

Once you two parted and had divided up the glasses and beer, you finally had a chance to peek at the evening's guest of honor.

“You must be the girlfriend,” you said cheerily, extending your hand, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Pin straight black hair acted as a curtain to reveal a pair of thick glasses and brown eyes as Lemon’s girlfriend turned to you. Her face was expressionless, bare of any makeup and smooth of any distinguishing emotional wrinkles. The turtleneck sweater she wore, thick and wool, was a deep purple and rose to the bottom of her jaw. Her gaze flicked over your form and then landed on your awaiting right hand.

“Likewise.” her tone was flat and disinterested, her handshake just the same.

Without even looking at Tan, you knew that the tips of his ears were turning red and his nostrils were flaring at the perceived slight made against you by this new woman. Respect was everything to him, and when not given to him, or worse, you? His blood began to boil.

“Rebecca this is (Y/N), and (Y/N) this is Rebecca.” Lemon introduced.

You looked back toward him once you had released Rebecca’s hand, the grin he offered was cheek splitting in its size. Your heart squeezed at his clear happiness. Only if his brother felt the same way.

“Well, it’s so awesome to finally meet you,” your tone was sweet and Rebecca’s face was disillusioned by your friendliness.

“Yeah, so awesome,” she barely controlled the eye roll you knew she was itching to complete.

You made your way to Tan’s side of the booth, who practically manhandled you back into the seat next to him, his arm lasoing you to his side. His large palm squeezed your hip tight in silent communication. One to say “I was right about this crazy bitch, and I’m going to lose my bloody mind”

You gently placed your hand over his and extended up to place a soft kiss to his jaw, your silent reply of “I’m right here. It’s ok, we’ve got this”

Tan only wished he could believe you.

His eye had begun to twitch seven minutes after Lemon and she arrived. The tension in his shoulders had reached a peak of almost unbearable pain and he swore he was about to crack a molar or burst a leak in his tongue by how hard his jaw was clenched.

The woman who accompanied Lemon tonight (yes, he was refusing to say the harpy’s name) was quite possibly the most vile and unpleasant woman he had ever met. That was certainly saying something too, as he was a contract killer and killed vile men and women on the daily. But this woman? The one Lemon was looking at with stars in his eyes? Somehow topped them all.

Pompous, arrogant, self righteous and shrill. He'd known her all of thirty minutes and he could already tell she was a pretentious martyr. Quite frankly, he thought she was a cunt.

And the worst part? The part that was really sending his anger into orbit? That both his brother and his girlfriend didn’t seem to notice. Well, Lemon didn’t seem to notice, you just didn’t seem to care.

You were a people person, you liked to talk to strangers on the subway, to census takers at the door and doctors office receptionists on the phone; you liked to make people smile, make them happy. You could also schmooze. You could say exactly what someone wanted to hear and pin the inner workings of people psyches and youtheir sore spots in the blink of an eye. While Tan needed to be in physical control, the looming threatening force in every room, you were happy to sidle up next to him and find out what made people tick. You were polar opposites and the perfect team. You were the sweet to his salty (and yes, he knew there was a joke about his namesake in there somewhere…) and the tamer of the wildfire that swarmed in his stomach.

Even as a sunny extrovert, you had your tells for when discomfort and nervous energy would start to creep in. And Tan? He knew every fucking one.

Your smile would grow just a little too wide, a hair toward painful and not so cheerful. You would start to nod in long intervals that would weigh on the side of awkward. You’d tap your fingernails together like Dolly Parton and trace the scar on your pinky that you got when you were eight, the repetition soothing to you.

And now, while Rebecca droned on about United Kingdom policy reform or… whatever drivel she was talking about, Tan could see all your tells in full swing.

And yet? You continued to engage the spider in friendly conversation while Lemon continued to giggle like a schoolgirl at her rubbish responses. She was lucky she hadn’t said anything outwardly offensive to either his brother or his love, because truly, Tangerine had no problem with putting a bullet between her eyes and every other patron in the bar so there were no witnesses of his execution of this terrible double date.

He knew you wouldn’t be happy about that, and Lemon decidedly less so, but you’d both get over it. You would place your hands on your hips and sigh (the way you always do when he got a little too murder-y outside of working hours) but Tan would grovel so nicely for you, kiss you tenderly and whisper sweet nothings in your ear and then happily do the same between your legs. And Lemon? He’d buy him a Guinness in a few days and ring his favorite call girl from London and things would be peachy once again for the three of you.

The three of you, his mind emphasized, just the way he liked it.

“Oi, mate,” Lemon said and he tipped his chin up toward his brother, effectively breaking Tan from his thoughts “did ya hear me? I said Becca went to Oxford and MIT in the states. She was at Oxford the same time we were in the area ‘bout five years ago, you ‘member that? What are the odds?”

Yes, Tan did remember. They were in Oxford to kill some geezer scientist who swore he had struck up an invention to turn water into gasoline. He and Lemon got a pretty penny for that job.

“Bloody rivetin’, it is,” Tan replied, sarcasm oozing out of his mouth.

“It’s like we really have been just one step apart our whole lives, aint it?” Lemon nudges Rebecca with his shoulder, which rocked her slightly in her seat. Her expression stayed stagnant.

Tangerine swallowed a long pull of beer before he replied, “Truly unfortunate you crossed paths now then, ‘innit? Could’a kept up the game of being strangers a while longer. Hell, maybe forever.”

Lemon’s eyes widen and Tan can tell it’s taking effort for his brother to not let his smile slip. He was feeling the four large beers he had consumed while suffering through the night. His composure and any hint of “best behavior” he’d had, had begun to slip away and fast. Combine that with your shared discomfort over this spider? He was ready to escalate this evening to deadly levels.

Until your soft hand crossed over Tan’s chest and rested on his left shoulder, your cheek moving to rest on his right. The reminder of your presence gave his fury pause, and when your lithe fingers broke the barrier of his unbuttoned shirt to dance across the skin of his collar bone he felt his racing heart slow.

With one simple touch, you proved you knew his own tells, too.

“Well, I may not be a ballet prodigy like this one,” you gestured to Rebecca, “but I have been watching people dance all night and I want to go join them.”

Ballet prodigy? When had the table learned that? Fucking hell, maybe he was drunker than he thought.

“What do you think, honey?”

Lemon responded before Tan had the chance.

“Yeah, y’know what? I think that would do us all some good,” he inhaled a deep breath through his nose, before he stood and pulled out Rebecca’s chair for her.

“Bar dancing. How very Footloose,” Rebecca drawls and took Lemon’s hand he was offering you.

“Oh bloody fuckin’ hell,” Tan shook his head with a scoff.

“OK, let’s go,” you huffed and hauled Tan up by his arm.

He left the booth without a fight and let himself be maneuvered through the sea of dancing pub patrons and drunken social groups. His head was on a swivel in an effort to keep his brother in his sights, but his bleach blonde mop soon was lost in the sea of people, likely what you were striving for. Soon, a gap appeared on the dance floor for the two of you to take residence in.

“Well, that was a god damned shit show, wasn’t it?” Tan said as his hands quickly found your waist and pulled you to his chest, “don’t wanna to say I told ya so, but…”

He pursed his lips smugly and you chuffed a laugh.

“You’re such a dick."

“Imma dick? Really? After we just sat with Margret fuckin’ cunty Thatcher for an hour?”

A boisterous laugh left you this time, an Tan felt his chest puff in pride at the sound.

“Y’know what? Two. Two I told ya so’s for tonight. For the best behavior bollocks, and the fact that that woman is in fact, a complete fuckin’ bitch.”

“Oh, she’s not that bad. She’s definitely a bitch and a bit cold, but she’s not horrible.”

Tan pulled you even closer as you both swayed gently to the old folk song that played from the jukebox. His eyebrows raised incredulously and his mustache shuffled under his nose.

“On a scale from not that bad to the fuckin’ spawn of satan, I’d say she’s broken the meter, love.”

“I thought you said it was a scale, not a meter?”

“Of fuck off, don’t get smart with me.”

You grinned, but began to relent, “OK, so she’s not the most,” you floundered for a word for a moment, “pleasant, but not everyone can be! There has to be sucky people so the best people can stick out.”

“Sucky? You’re going with sucky to describe the hag now?” his tone was baffled.

“You already called her a cunt. I didn’t feel it was necessary to repeat. She’s bad, but not a cunt times two.”

It was Tan’s turn to laugh, “You’re too sweet for your own good, ya know that?”

You made a sound in disagreement.

“Not too sweet, just trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she’s bad with new people? Fuck, maybe her only coping mechinism is superme levels of bitch, who knows.”

“I thought you were an expert on figuring out why people are the way they are?”

“Well, she’s a tough bitch to crack. I’ll get her, though. Eventually.”

A grin continued to stretch on Tan’s lips as he looked down at you, his hands still on your waist and your hands gently cupped the nape of his neck.

“But really, I wanted Lem to see us giving her a chance, alright? I wanted him to know we are giving her a fair shot, just like he gave us.”

“Wrong. Lemon loved ya the moment he met ya because you are fuckin’ wonderful darlin’, and he isn’t blind so he knew it. His little creature is nothing of the sort,” Tan shot back quickly.

He wouldn’t let you even entertain the idea that you and her were similar. Tan wasn’t even sure you two were born on the same planet.

“Still, she deserved a fair chance. I didn’t want him to think that you were going to go all sterile soldier on him and reject her before we even got to know her.”

Tan rolled his eyes at the nickname. It had been given by Lemon the very first time his brother realized how adverse he was to emotions and change. You weren’t lying when you said that Lemon had been more welcoming than Tan had been in the beginning of your relationship. He didn’t like change. He liked things the way they were: him and Lemon, the way it was supposed to always be. Meeting you? That fucked everything up. You were the gorgeous cog in the carefully organized assembly that was his life. It took him longer than he cared to remember, or admit, to realize that maybe he liked his life a hell’uve a lot better with an intruder like you in it. You were what his well oiled machine was missing.

“It ain’t that, love,” he replied and pulled you closer. His chin went to rest on the crown of your head and he inhaled your floral shampoo.

“Maybe it was a little, though?” you asked against the skin of his throat, and Tan didn’t have to respond for you to know the answer.

Of course it was that. Rebecca being a slag only worked to solidify her as public enemy number one, but she had secured that placement before Tangerine even knew her name. She had the ability to cause a rift in his life- the ability to take his brother and the comfort Tan found in him- and he just couldn’t have that.

“You know how I am,” was all he said in return, and you did know.

“I do… which is why I am proud of you, baby,” you pulled away enough to meet his gaze, “because four years ago, you wouldn’t have even entertained this night. But look at you now.”

Your smile thawed him further, though the compliment made him feel awkward.

“So what? Ya sayin’ you fixed me?”

“Nah,” you moved your hands to frame his cheeks, “just shaped you up a little.”

Tan shook his head at your words and did his best to not be charmed by them, but to no avail.

“See? Too fuckin' sweet. If I were watchin’ us, I’d fuckin’ retch.”

Your lips met his a moment later, and your sickening display of affection continued to onlookers. And Tan didn't give one flying fuck. With the taste of your lips on his and your plush body pressed to his front, the only worry he had was if he could shuffle you to the bathroom in time to fuck you the way he needed to.

“But really,” you pulled away abruptly (far too soon) (much to his and his cock's annoyance), “Me, sweet? C'mon, I mean I can be… but listen if Rebecca had said one bad word about you at that table? I would have jumped across it and ripped a chunk of her hair out. No holds barred, the gloves would be off, baby.”

It was Tan’s turn to laugh, full and hearty. And hell, maybe even a little warm.

“S’my girl.”

Then he took your hand from his face and rose it above your head to spin you in a wild circle like a music box doll. Your sequel of joy was music to his ears. When he was finished with his expert twirling he pulled you firmly back to his chest. Tan wasted no time to let you catch your breath or recenter yourself in the still world before his mouth was on yours again, picking up right where you left off moments ago.

As he devoured you with his kiss and groped your body up just the way he liked, he slowly started to forget the terrible start this evening had.

Tomorrow, he’d talk to Lemon to smooth things over. Fuck, maybe even ask about the spider and how his brother was doing in the relationship, even if it pained him to think about. Sure, he was doing his best to be more in touch with his “emotions”, but the thought of a full heart to heart with Lemon did make his stomach queasy.

He’d have to decide what he needed to do in the end, but for right now with you in his arms and the promise of a hot night ahead, the discomfort of what was to come didn’t seem so bad.

well, i hope you liked it! (: not my favorite thing i've ever written, but i just really wanted to start writing fics again!! lemme know if you want some more atj stories and if you enjoyed this, i'd love to hear it with a reblog, comment or like <3

#i have two other fic ideas so theres that lmao #tangerine x reader #tangerine x oc #tangerine x you #tangerine x y/n #bullet train fanfic #bullet train fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson x reader #tangerine bullet train #stevesharrlngtons writes

2K notes · View notes

laurens0 · 2 years

Text

Incorrect quotes pt.3

Mw2 x male reader

Genre: crack

Characters: gaz, graves, Alejandro, soap, gaz, price, ghost, Rodolfo

Warnings: none

————————————————————————

Gaz: omg y/n look it’s a mistletoe. You know what that means.

Y/n: that’s actually a wisteria

Y/n wakes up at 3am*: omg he was flirting with me

————————————————————————

Y/n catching soap and ghost kissing*: what.. in the fuck knuckles is this

Ghost: he’s my boyfriend you intolerant shit

Y/n: wow! Pump the hate break fox and friends, I’m just surprised anyone would date you. Especially pinky pie from my little pony

————————————————————————

Gaz: y/n, what are you drinking?

Y/n: vodka

Gaz: straight?

Y/n: no, gay. Why?

————————————————————————

Soap: did none of you hear what I just said?

Y/n: I’ve been zoned out for the past two and a half hours

Gaz: I got distracted halfway through

Ghost: ignoring you was a conscious decision

————————————————————————

Y/n: why is everyone obsessed with top or bottom? Idd just be exited to have a bunk bed.

Gaz:…

Gaz: I’m gonna tell him

Price: don’t you dare

————————————————————————

Y/n: is something burning?

Gaz: only my love for you

Y/n notices smoke* : GAZ THE TOASTER IS ON FIRE

————————————————————————

Soap: I’m crushing on someone but I’m worried about telling you cus ur not gonna like it

Y/n: just rip it off like a bandaid

Soap: it’s ghost

Y/n:…

Y/n: put the bandaid back on

————————————————————————

Y/n: it’s nice to finally be wanted

Alejandro: NOT by graves and the shadows

————————————————————————

Price: so, tell us a little more about urself

Y/n: Idd rather not. I really like this group

————————————————————————

Y/n: ghost do you wanna talk about ur feelings?

Ghost: no.

Soap: I want to talk about my feelings

Y/n: I know soap

Soap: I’m sad

Y/n: I know soap

————————————————————————

Y/n to graves*: have a safe flight

Graves: I have no say in that

Y/n: ok die then

————————————————————————

Rodolfo: y/n, why are you laying on the floor?

Y/n: I have depression

Rodolfo: ah

Y/n: I’ve also been stabbed three times

Alejandro: y/n what the fu-

————————————————————————

Graves: I’ve finally Recovered the stolen ballistic missiles and destroyed the evidence of the convoy ambush. Nothing will stop me from killing 141 now

Y/n: true but that’s nothing compared to updog

Graves: huh

Price: no.. don’t do it

Gaz: yhe y/n is right, those missiles are powerful but updog is way better

Alejandro: oh my

Graves: what is going on

Y/n: I’m telling you if you really want to defeat us you really need updog

Graves:… what’s updog?

Y/n and gaz trying to hold their laugh and high-fiving*

141 + los vaqueros visibly disappointed*

————————————————————————

Price coughing and dying on a field*: gaz..

Gaz: yes price? What is it? Ill do anything

Price: when I die.. let y/n lower me in the ground so he can let me down one last time..

————————————————————————

Rodolfo: my parents raised me not to order something expensive when someone else is paying

Y/n: my parents didn’t raise me at all..

Price: Y/N

————————————————————————

Price: can we all be rational here? I mean come on I expect more from each of you!

Y/n:

Gaz:

Soap:

Y/n: you’ve know us for years and you haven’t lowered ur expectations yet? That’s on YOU

————————————————————————

Soap: a fly flew in my ear! It’s going to eat my brain!

Y/n: it’s going to starve..

————————————————————————-

A longer one this time :)

FEM ALIGNED DNI

Reblogs are greatly appreciated:)

#call of duty mw2 #captain john price #ghost mw2 #mw2 x male reader #mw2 x reader #mw2 x you #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #john soap mactavish #gaz cod #gaz x reader #philip graves #soap x reader #price x reader #ghost x reader #mw2 cod #call of duty

2K notes · View notes

morgana-larkin · 4 months

Note

MWAHAHAHAHHA. ALTERNATIVE ENDING TIMEEE. The vender flowers fic thing. I am here to request an alternative angst ending. Ok SO *cracks knuckles* Mel still chooses you and still goes to your place to confess. However, when u lean in to kiss her, she kisses u back. Then, smut (y’all sleep together). Then, she goes home to break up w Gary. She explains her feelings and he was so understanding and loving that she realizes she doesn’t want to let him go. So they end up staying together. Then at school u see her w Gary and you’re (patiently) like “hey what’s up have u done it yet like what’s goin on” and she tells u that she hasn’t but she will and that she can’t wait to be with you. Then y’all fuck again maybe or just make out idk, up to u, and you’re all happi and giggly BUT THEN the next day she tells u the truth. That she doesn’t wanna let him go and you’re like “ok so u just used me/lied so u could get the best of both worlds/just to sleep w me” and then idk what she says after that u can pick. And idk how to end this u can pick hahaha.

Alright, I finished it! And before anyone asks, we made a deal that if I do a lot of angst then I can have my happy ending. 😊 Although I think it’s more sad than angsty. And when you put the cracks knuckles, I burst out laughing. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it.

On another note: I notice that half of you put compliments for me in your prompts and I love reading them, you guys are so sweet! 🥹❤️ Also I spent 10 minutes picking out a gif cause I got distracted looking at Lisa…I regret nothing.

Part 1 Part 2

The Vendor, The Teacher and The Roses - Alt End

Warnings: where to start? A bit of toxic Mel, angst, sadness, heartbreak, fluff, smut, happy ending. I literally went through a whole rollercoaster of emotions while writing this so good luck!

Words: 7.3k

“What do you mean when you said you chose me?” You ask her.

“I mean if I went home then I would be choosing Gary, and I know I would lose you. If I came here then I would be choosing you and lose Gary.” She tells you. “And I can’t lose you.” She adds on and you look at her shocked.

“But you can lose Gary?” You ask her and she nods.

“He’s not as important as you.” She tells you and you look down at your fingers and twiddle your thumbs. Melissa takes your hand with hers and interlace your fingers and brings her other hand to your chin and gets you to look up at her. “I want to be with you.” She tells you and a tear rolls down your cheek. She wipes the tear and cups your cheek.

“I want to be with you too.” You tell her and you lean forward to kiss her and she leans forward to kiss you back. Once your lips connect you immediately feel that this is right, where you’re supposed to be and you’re already hooked on her.

Melissa is feeling the same way and she puts her hands in your hair and moans. She pushes you back on the couch to deepen the kiss but you stop her.

“Me-Melissa.” You say and she pulls back and looks at you. “We shouldn’t do anything else, you’re still with Gary.” You tell her and leans forward to you and puts her hands in your hair again.

“I don’t care, I’ve wanted you for so long and I don’t want to wait any longer.” She says and kisses you again. She pushes you back again and this time you let her. She’s on top of you now and runs her fingers down your body and you gasp a bit and she slides her tongue in your mouth. You moan at that and she takes her shirt off and you run your hands all over the newly exposed skin. She brings her mouth to your neck and leaves kisses all over it.

“Melissa, do you want to go to the bedroom? Lot more space on the bed.” You suggest and she groans. She then slides her hand under you and pushes you closer to her and she sits up and brings you with her. She then picks you up and she stands up and carries you to the bed. She goes back on top of you and goes and sucks your neck and you gasp and buck your hips. She then unclips her bra and takes it off then takes your shirt off. Her breasts fall out of her bra and are freed from their prison and you set your eyes on them and stare. “Take your pants off.” You tell her and she pulls back from your neck and looks at you before she takes her pants and underwear off. At the same time you take your pants and underwear off. She then goes back to you and all you have on is your bra and she straddles your lap as you’re sitting against the headboard. She gets hit by a wave of desire for you and starts grinding your leg and you go and suck on a nipple. She takes the opportunity to unclip your bra and take it off then places her hands on your boobs.

You then place her between your legs and slide a finger in her entrance and she moans out. You notice she’s tight and you slide another finger in to really fill her and she falls forward into you. “Omg! Yes!” She says and you slide them in and out and quickly go faster. “Omg! That feels so good! Yes! Don’t stop! Oh fuck!” She screams out.

“You’re so tight. Been awhile?” You ask her and she nods. “Hmm, how long?” You ask.

“3…we…weeks.” She says and you smile.

“He has you and is able to go 3 weeks without sex?” You say and she whines. You figure he must have a lower than average sex drive and it must be driving her crazy as 3 weeks is too long for her. “You know, when we get together, I don’t think I’ll be able to go more than 3 days without fucking you.” You tell her and she whines again. You place a hand on her back and pull her closer to you and she moans. You place your thumb on her clit and she gasps. A few seconds later her legs start shaking and you feel her clench around your fingers. “Go on and cum.” You tell her and she comes a couple seconds later. You stop your fingers but she starts riding them and places her thumb between her legs to rub her clit and she must still need more and you smile. “Oh you’re very horny.” You say and she moans. You move your fingers in her again and she gasps. You move her fingers out of the way and place your thumb back on her clit and rub it. She places her hands on your back and has her body pushed right up against you. Her legs start shaking again and she comes seconds later. This time it’s you that doesn’t stop and she cries out as she feels another orgasm building and she’s sensitive. The next one hits not even 30 seconds later and she screams out as she comes. You pull out of her gently and she’s holding on to you tightly and you don’t move as her heart rate slows down. She then slides off of you and down your body and is on her stomach and connects her mouth to your clit.

“I love how you taste.” She tells you and goes right back to licking your clit.

“Ooohhh Mel…omg your tongue feels so good!” You say between gasps. She then slides two fingers in your entrance and you scream out. It doesn’t take long until you come with her name in your mouth. She pulls out of you and comes to lay down beside you.

You cuddle each other for a few minutes until you stop shaking and you’re breathing normally. You then go and get a cloth and you both clean yourself up. Melissa then gets dressed and she gives you another kiss before she leaves to go home to end things with Gary.

When she gets home, she takes a deep breath before getting out of the car and going inside. She sees Gary sitting on the couch and watching tv and he’s looking at her with a smile.

“Hey, you’re home. Where’d you go?” He says without any judgement, just curiosity.

“I went to see y/n.” She said to him and he nods, knowing you two are good friends.

“How is she?” He asks and she walks towards him.

“Good. We need to talk though.” She says and sits on the couch next to him. He turns off the tv and turns to her and gives her his full attention.

Melissa then explains everything, leaving out the part that you two had sex. She tells him about the friendship you two formed and when her feelings for you started. Then she admits that she found out you feel the same and that’s why she went to see you.

“And I feel bad about it cause you’re really good to me and I never wanted to hurt you.” She finishes and Gary looks at her with understanding. He then explains how he knew something was going on with the way you both look at each other. Then explains that he’s always wanted what’s best for her and to support her. Melissa looks at him shocked. She expected for him to be angry, not supportive of what she wants and she’s overwhelmed with it. She realises she doesn’t want to let him go but also doesn’t want to let you go, she doesn’t know what to do.

The next day Melissa and Gary arrive in the break room in the morning and you frown. You thought she was talking to him last night but then thought that maybe she didn’t want to do it on Valentine’s Day.

It did hurt a bit when you also see them at lunch, being all happy but didn’t mention anything. Melissa noticed your reaction all day and she feels guilty, knowing she’ll have to make a decision. At the end of the day you go to see her in her classroom.

“Hey Melissa.” You say to her and she spins around to look at you with a smile.

“Hey y/n.”

“So what’s up?”

“I’m happy that it’s Friday.” She answers and you close her door.

“Ya so am I. I was wondering if you’ve done it yet or are you going to, you know, break up with Gary.” You tell her and she smiles at you.

“Ya, I didn’t want to do it yesterday being as it was Valentine’s Day and a Thursday but I’ll do it. I honestly can’t wait to be with you.” She says and you go and kiss her. She kisses you back and it turns into a heated make out session. You end up getting pushed to her desk and you go and sit on top of it, continuing to make out with her. You then pull back after making out for a few minutes. “I just love kissing you already.” She says and you smile at her.

“I love kissing you too. And I can’t wait until I can kiss you whenever.” You tell her and she smiles at you.

“I’ll let you know when I break up with him.” She says and boops your nose and you giggle.

“Alright, but don’t make me wait long.” You tell her and she gives you another kiss and then you both leave.

You go home and sit on your couch and watch tv for the rest of the day, waiting to see when she’ll text you that she broke up with him. You don’t get a text that evening.

The next day she comes to your place in the morning and you open up the door and smile widely when you see her.

“Morning Melissa, so does this mean it’s done?” You ask her and she looks down at the floor.

“We got to talk.” She says and your smile drops and you tilt your head.

“Um…ok.” You say and let her in.

You both sit on your couch and she takes a few deep breaths before speaking.

“I spoke to Gary on Thursday night after coming back from your place. I told him everything, well except for us having sex. And he was so understanding and supportive and I couldn’t let him go. And now I don’t want to let him go at all but I also don’t want to let you go.” She admits and you look at her. You’re processing everything that she just told you and you sigh.

“So let me see if I got this right. So you lied to me and used me to just get the best of both? For him to meet your emotional needs and sleep with me to meet your sexual needs?” You ask and she nods.

“I’m sorry, I never want to hurt either of you.” She says and you suck in a breath.

“You can’t have both of us Melissa, it’s one or the other.” You tell her and she looks defeated.

“I don’t know who to choose.” She admits and your anger comes out.

“If you can’t choose then that means that you just don’t want to tell me that it’s him you’re choosing.” You say sternly and she goes to answer but you don’t want to hear anymore. “Get out.” You grit through your teeth and she looks taken back by your words. “I said get out!” You yell and point to the door. Melissa is on the verge of tears so she does as you say and leaves.

You immediately block her number and text Ava asking if she has plans tonight. She texts you back and tells you what club she’s going to and if you wanted to tag along. You immediately accept and you go to the bar with her and a couple friends of hers and you get drunk. You dance most of the night and get hit on by men and women. You kiss a couple women and by the end of the night Ava gets you a ride home.

You spend Sunday morning trying to not die and get rid of your major hangover that doesn’t leave until the afternoon. Then you spend the rest of the day doing chores, grading and making a couple changes to your lesson plan.

On Monday morning Melissa tries to talk to you but you shut her down and avoid her. You end up avoiding her all day, which is followed by all week and followed by all month.

At the start, Melissa tries to talk to you every chance she gets and found out quickly that you blocked her. As the days go on with you doing everything to avoid her, her hope and determination of talking to you and trying to make it up to you, goes down. You see she eventually gets the hint and stops trying to talk to you. You see she still glances at you throughout the day but those become fewer and fewer as the days pass. Glances you can handle though, as long as she doesn’t try and talk to you then you can deal with her looking at you.

Eventually she stops looking at you at all and you two are basically just co workers who don’t interact. You start to make friends with other teachers that aren’t friends with Melissa or anyone that is friends with Melissa’s friends. Everyone notices the growing distance between you both and Barb is the first to mention something.

“What’s going on with you and y/n?” Barb asks, about 2 weeks after you started avoiding her.

“Nothing, nothing is going on.” Melissa says with a bit of anger. No one mentions it again but feels bad that Melissa is taking it hard, while you seemed to have moved on easily. Ava did mention that you went out to a club with her and her friends and kissed a couple girls, to which Melissa was shocked and got upset at that.

You want everyone to see that what happened between you and Melissa didn’t heavily affect you but in reality, it crushed you.

About 3 months later, you’re having a rather rough night after a bad date so in a split second decision, you unblock her number. All the texts that she sent you in those 3 months pop up and you’re shocked at the amount of texts there were, probably about 200.

Melissa knew you blocked her number but still chose to text you anyway, it made her feel better and no one tried to stop her.

You read all the messages and you feel like you went on a rollercoaster of emotions. She starts with saying how sorry she is about what happened and that she broke up with Gary a week after. Then she goes on saying that she misses you, she misses having you around her, even just as a friend. She says that she wants to have you back and will do anything to make it up to you.

You start to feel sympathy for her as you read them and then remember what she did and how it made you feel and then go back to angry at her and continue reading.

The texts start to get a bit angry as she’s upset about what happened and obviously going through the 5 stages of grief. She goes on saying a bunch of English and Italian curse words, some directed at you and some about the situation. She then goes and apologises for everything she said, even if you never see the texts she’ll know what she said and would feel bad about it. It takes you a good 2 hours to get through all of them. Her last text being the one that hits the hardest.

Melissa: I know you haven’t seen any of these and might never. But wanted to apologise for everything that happened. For not noticing the signs, not having the courage to admit my feelings, and then putting you through hell and having sex with you. I never wanted to use you, it was never my intention. And I’m sorry about the fact that it took losing you to figure out what I want. I guess it’s true what they say, you never know your lover until you let her go. I spent almost 3 months sending you texts, I don’t even know why, but it made me feel better in a way. But now it’s time to fully let go of everything. I wish you the best luck and life you could have and I’m sorry that I messed it up and won’t get to see you thrive and live your best life. Love, Melissa

You cried so much that night and you think about everything that happened and everything she told you and all the texts she sent you. Melissa on the other hand didn’t notice that all her texts went through to you, even the one she sent a week ago. The one she knew she had to send to finally let you go and move on herself.

A week goes by as if you didn’t read all her texts. You’re debating whether you should talk to her or not and think that you should protect yourself and your heart from her. But on the other hand you think about her texts and how hurt she sounded. You see her throughout the day and see that she’s now mostly healed from what happened and you shouldn’t put each other through that again. You come to the decision that you two will never talk and be in each other's lives again.

That day happens to be the same one that you’re too in your head and don’t see a car coming straight for you. All the teachers are heading out to their cars across the street, as they’re fixing the parking lot. You’re crossing the street and it seems you parked right behind Melissa so you two are heading in the same direction. You start crossing the street as she’s saying goodbye to Barb and about to cross as well. Melissa sees a car coming and you don’t notice as you’re crossing, she immediately starts running towards you, and pushes you out of the way right before the car hits you.

Melissa gets hit by the car instead and goes flying into the windshield. Luckily the driver was slowing down as he noticed you walking out onto the street, he still did damage to Melissa but fortunately didn’t kill her. The driver was able to fully stop and got out to go check on her, as well as Barb who saw the whole thing. You hit the pavement and turned around to see Melissa hitting the windshield and rolling off the car. You run towards her as well, overwhelmed with what just happened. You all go towards her and the driver calls for an ambulance.

“Melissa!” You say as you reach her and she’s unconscious as she hit her head on the windshield.

“Oh my Lord!” Barb says as she reaches you both. You both stay by her until the ambulance arrives.

Janine, Jacob, Gregory, Ava and Mr Johnson end up seeing the commotion before the ambulance arrive and go towards it to see what happened. As they get closer they realise Melissa got hit by the car and they start running.

“Omg what happened?” Janine says and sees you with Melissa’s head in your lap and Barb trying to comfort you.

“All my fault!” You exclaimed through tears.

“No it’s not dear. You forgot to check for cars and didn’t notice the car coming, it happens. But it was Melissa’s decision to push you out of the way and got hit by the car instead of you.” Barb says and Janine and Jacob gasp. Ava puts a hand over her mouth in shock, Gregory and Mr Johnson are too stunned to do anything. They all stay with you until the ambulance arrives.

The ambulance gets there 4 minutes after the call was made and they check her over quickly and say she has to go to the hospital for further examination and treatment. They gently and quickly put her on the stretcher and into the ambulance, and then drive to the hospital.

They all stay next to you as they all watch the ambulance drive Melissa to the hospital. You’re still blaming yourself for what happened and even wish that she didn’t push you out of the way. She shouldn’t pay the consequences for your mistake.

You look defeated and walk towards your car and Barb speaks up. “Dear, do you want to get a ride with me and Gerald to the hospital?” She asks you and you turn around.

“Why would I go to the hospital?” You ask her.

“To go see Melissa.” She says with a gentle tone.

“I’m not going to see her. This is all my fault. I mean why did she even push me out of the way? She should have let me get hit by that car!” You say and everyone but Barb leaves so you and Barb can have privacy.

“Sweetheart, it was Melissa’s decision. And she pushed you out of the way because even though whatever happened between you two happened, she still cares about you and would rather save you then watch you get hurt.” She explains softly.

“We haven’t talked in 3 months because I cut her out of my life! How can she still care about me?” You ask with tears in your eyes.

“Melissa feels deeply for people in her life. Once you find yourself in her life then she has hard time letting go, I saw her struggle with trying to let you go. She never said what happened, all she told me was that she screwed up with you.” Barb tells you and you’re crying at this point but you stay away from her when she tries to comfort you.

“I’m not going to the hospital, it’s my fault she got hurt and I don’t want to hurt her more. I do hope she makes a full recovery quickly though.” You tell her and Barb knows you’re not going to change your mind and lets you go. You go to your car and drive home.

She gets Gerald to drive to the hospital to go see Melissa, as well as the trio. They’re surprised when you don’t show up and Barb tells them that you blame yourself. Melissa does end up waking up a few hours later after the doctors treated her injuries. Janine was the first to notice and makes her way to her side beside Barb as Gregory goes to get a Doctor saying she’s awake.

The doctor asks her a few questions and checks her over again and says that she’s healing properly and should be good to go home in a few days. They did mention she’ll need crutches as she got hit in the leg and they put a cast on her left leg. Once the doctor leaves, the trio stays for about half an hour before heading home. As soon as they leave, that's when Melissa asks Barb about you.

“I’m sorry, I tried to get her to come but she was very against it, saying she doesn’t want to hurt you again, and blaming herself for what happened.” Barb tells her and Melissa groans and puts her head back on the pillow. “If it’s any consolation, she was surprised that you pushed her out of the way. She thought you didn’t care about her anymore.” Barb tells her and Melissa looks at her.

“On Valentine’s Day she was going to see me with flowers and a card to confess her feelings for me. She saw how Gary and I declared our feelings and threw out the flowers and the card in the garbage. I guess she must have kicked it in anger cause the bin was knocked over and I saw the flowers and the card. I went over to her place right after and we both confessed our feelings.” Melissa is finally telling Barb what happened. “But then I screwed up. We didn’t hold back and we…we had sex. Then I promised her to go and break up with Gary. I went to do that, like I talked to him about it all but the way he was supportive and understanding made me not want to let him go since it’s been so long since I had a partner like that.” Melissa says and Barb nods in understanding. “She came and talked to me the next day and I promised again to break up with him. But then on Saturday I went over to her house and told her the truth and I said I couldn’t choose between them. She got angry and told me to get out.” Melissa finishes. “That’s what happened.”

“Melissa, you made a mistake, I mean my god. You and y/n are both putting blame on yourselves for making a mistake because you’re human.” Barb says. “It’s not your fault that Gary’s support and understanding made you feel good and left you confused because Joe kept hurting you. And it’s not y/n’s fault that she got distracted and didn’t notice the car coming at her and the fact that you pushed her out of the way and got hit instead.” Barb says and Melissa sniffles. “She got so mad at herself that she wished you just let her get hit.” Barb tells her and Melissa looks at her in shock. “I know you wouldn’t have let that happen and I told her that. But something tells me that there’s more to y/n’s side than she was letting on.” Barb tells her and Melissa goes to her phone to go to your texts to see pictures you sent her. And that’s when her face pales instantly. “What?” Barb asks when she sees Melissa’s face.

“They sent. All the texts that I sent her got delivered. That means she unblocked my number and she must have read them or at least a few of them. Probably not all since I sent a lot.” Melissa says and rambles a bit.

“Do you know when she unblocked your number.” Barb asks.

“It says it was delivered…last week.” Melissa says the last 2 words quietly.

“You know I did notice that she was distracted this week and that she looked at you a few times.” Barb says, knowing that you acted differently this week but didn’t say anything. When you cut Melissa out, you also cut out her, the trio, Ava and Mr Johnson, pretty much everyone in Melissa’s life from school.

A week goes by and Melissa returns back after that. The cast has to stay on her leg for a month and then a brace after for another month. She’s using crutches that she learned to use in the hospital during her stay there.

You secretly spy on her for a week when she returns and you see her get frustrated a few times about her limitations. You stay away though, thinking it’s the best course of action. You even hand Ava your notice, saying after the school year ends in a month, you’re not coming back. Ava accepts the notice but never approves you leaving, she said she’ll put it through on the last day.

On the second week that Melissa returns, she moves one of the crutches wrong, causing her to slip and fall. You happened to be right behind her and you caught her. It took both of you a second to figure out what happened and you lock eyes when you help her back up.

“Thank you.” She tells you and you look down at the ground before looking back up.

“I should be thanking you, this would have been me if you didn’t push me.” You say and she stares at you. This is the first time you guys talk to each other in over 3 months. “Melissa, why did you push me? Why didn’t you just let me get hit?” You ask, the guilt eating away at you.

“Why would I let you get hit? I care about you and I don’t want to see you hurt, especially if I could prevent it.” She says. “I’ll take having to walk around in a cast and with crutches, and cursing when I can’t do something the same way for a bit, if it means that you don’t have too.” She tells you genuinely and you’re speechless.

“How have you been getting to school and back?” You suddenly ask and she tilts her head at you, confused.

“Barb and Gerald have been driving me. They let me sit in the passenger seat to have room for my leg, and they help me in and out of the car.” She explains.

“Can I drive you home tonight?” You blurt out and it takes both of you by surprise. “To give them a break and as a thank you for saving me.” You tell her and she smiles.

“You don’t have to thank me.” She tells you.

“I do actually. I don't know many people who would save someone from getting hit by a car and let themselves get hit instead.” You tell her and she looks down and blushes.

“If you really want, then sure. I’m sure Gerald and Barb would like the break.” She says and you nod.

“Ok, I’ll come to your classroom after school then.” You say and she nods and you walk to your classroom. Melissa watches you walk away and she sighs contentedly. Maybe she can make it up to you after all.

Ava saw the interaction and passes by Melissa. “You might want to interact with her while you still can.” Ava tells her and Melissa looks at her confused.

“What is that supposed to mean?” She asks.

“It means that she gave her notice a couple days ago. After the year is done then she’s not coming back.” Ava tells Melissa, and if she didn’t have crutches then she would have fallen right there.

“She’s leaving?” Melissa mutters but Ava hears her and nods.

“Like I said, interact with her while you still can. There’s 3 weeks until school is done.” Ava says and walks away.

Melissa feels like the weight that once crushed her 3 months ago came back. You were leaving Abbott in 3 weeks and she didn’t know why. She thought you loved it here.

At the end of the day, she’s sitting at her desk when you come and knock on her door that’s open, signalling your presence.

“Ready to go?” You ask and she looks at you. You were probably never going to tell her that you’re leaving, this favour you’re doing is the only thing that you’ll probably do as a thank you before leaving. You were probably just going to finish up the last 3 weeks, and not mention to anyone that you’re leaving. And just leave them to figure it out when they don’t see you again. A bit of anger courses through her at that.

“Why are you leaving?” She asks you and you look at her stunned. You told Ava to not tell anyone, you just want to leave quietly.

“Ava couldn’t keep her mouth shut I see.” You say and her face gets more stern. “I’ll tell you in the car.” You say and she takes that compromise. You help her up and then walk beside her all the way to your car. You take her crutches and help her stay up as she gets in the car and then put the crutches in the back seat.

You get in and start the car and start the way to her house. You see her looking at you and you sigh and take a breathe before answering her question.

“I’m leaving because I have too ok.” You start and she looks confused. “I don’t belong here anymore. I made a couple friends with teachers but nothing too serious. I feel lonely here and all the students and teachers know that you got hit because you saved me. Do you know how many weird looks I get from people daily? I lose count. And I feel guilty everytime I see you or when I hear your crutches. You’re the only one who made me feel welcomed when I got here, and then I cut you and everyone you know at Abbott out of my life. So now I have no one. I figured it was best to leave and just start fresh.” You tell her.

“And you weren’t going to tell anyone?” She asks.

“There’s no one to tell.” You tell her casually and with a shrug. That got to her, the way you said, like you accepted it.

“You told Ava not to tell anyone.” She says.

“That’s because I didn’t want anyone asking why I’m leaving.” You say and glance at her.

“How many of my texts did you read?” She blurts out and she sees you tense. “I saw they got delivered to you, a week before the accident.” She tells you and you sigh.

“I came home after a bad date and I felt vulnerable so I unblocked your number.” You tell her and she gets surprised by you having a date, that means you’re dating again. Melissa decided to break up with Gary and swore off dating forever, not wanting the drama and pain it causes. “I read all of them.” You admit and her eyes go wide. She thought you would never see a single one and it was her way of therapy for losing you.

“I thought you would never see them.” She says and looks down.

“Well whatever the reason you sent so many must have helped as you moved on.” You tell her and snaps her head up at you. “You said so in the last text and you seemed lighter, the week before the accident.” You say. “It’s part of the reason why I thought you didn’t care about me anymore.” You admit.

“What are the other reasons?” She can’t help but ask.

“The fact that I cut you out of my life and you eventually stopped trying to talk to me. I thought you’re the queen of cutting people out and not having any emotional attachment to people that you cut out. Also, I thought you’d be happy with Gary and forget about me.” You tell her and that stung her.

“I broke up with me and I swore off dating.” She tells you and you let out an airy laugh.

“Ya right. Melissa, I know you, you want to be loved, you want to spend your days with someone. For them to give you physical affection and you love cooking for people that you love and want to show that you care.” You tell her.

“You’re right, I want to spend my days with the right person. But that person cut me out of her life because I fucked it up.” She tells you and you’re glad there’s a red light or else you might have made a mistake while driving. “So yes, I gave up because I didn’t see a point.” She tells you and you turn into her neighbourhood. You’re silent for the minute it takes until you pull up in her driveway and then you turn to look at her.

“Why didn’t you choose me then?” You ask her. “I gave you a choice. You told me on Valentine’s Day that you chose me then 2 days later you said you're not choosing me anymore.” You obviously still have anger about what happened.

“I went home and did start to talk to Gary to break up with him. But I never got so much support and understanding that I got from him from anyone else, including Joe. It felt nice and I got confused. I broke up with him a week later but by then it was too late, I already lost you.” She says and a tear rolls down her cheek from remembering how it felt to lose you. “Y/n, it took me 3 months to not always feel the pain of losing you. All I wanted was to talk to you, for you to have me back in any way that you were comfortable with, because I just wanted you in my life. I looked lighter like I moved on but I didn’t, it seemed like that because I was adjusting to life without you, I was finally forcing myself to accept that you weren’t going to be in my life again.” She tells you and looks you in the eyes. “Then I saw that car coming right for you and you didn’t notice. So before I even thought about it, I was running towards you and pushed you to safety, knowing it was you or me that was going to get hit. And I chose for me to get hit, because I care about you. And honestly, if I knew everything that was going to happen, I would have still done it.” She tells you and a tear rolls down your cheek.

She goes to wipe it away but you beat her to it. You turn away from her and wipe your eyes. “Come on, I’ll help you get to your house then I’ll leave you be.” You tell her and she grabs your arm and you look at her.

“You have never been in my way. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I regret not breaking up with Gary when I should have, I regret not choosing you when you gave me the option. There’s so many things I regret and they all centre around you. I regret all the things that made me lose you.” She tells you sternly, making you understand the importance of what she’s saying. You look at her and see how vulnerable she’s being and you’re stunned, she’s never this vulnerable to anyone. Without thinking, you lean in and kiss her. Melissa is stunned for a second then kisses you back. She missed you and even though she only had a few kisses with you, she still remembered what it was like and missed being intimate with you. You pull back a few seconds later with fear in your eyes. “What’s wrong?” She asks you as soon as she sees your eyes.

“I don’t know what came over me. I mean we’re both trying to move on and then I go and do that.” You say and she laughs. You look at her and furrow your eyebrows, confused as hell.

“Oh y/n, I gave you a whole love confession and you think I could ever move on from you?” She asks and your brain goes blank. “You’re adorable. You’re so smart but so clueless. I love you y/n, I always will. No matter what happens, my heart will belong to you.” She tells you and she cups your cheek. “Whether you forgive me or not, whether we’re ever together or never together, if you cut me out of your life forever or let me back in. Even if you break my heart or decide to spend your life with someone else and I have to watch. I will always love you. These past 3 months, I’ve been loving you from a distance. Every day it broke my heart but I never stopped loving you.” She tells you.

“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. And I’ve watched so many romance movies and read so many romance novels, been to multiple weddings and never heard anything as sweet as that.” You tell her and she gives you a watery smile. She goes to pull her hand back when you don’t react further but you grab it and place it back on your cheek and lean into her touch. You undo your seatbelt and lunge forward and kiss her.

“Woah!” She says as it takes her by surprise. Your lips land on hers and she immediately kisses you back. You pull back after a few seconds and look at her.

“I love you too.” You simply say and she smiles. “I’m not even going to attempt a speech because it will never come close to yours.” You tell her and she giggles.

“I don’t need one. I know how you feel about me. I see it in your eyes and feel it in your kisses.” She tells you.

“You should seriously stop talking, because you’re saying all the sweetest things.” You say and she gives you a kiss.

“As much as I would love to stay in this car with you, my butt is going numb.” She tells you and you get out of the car, grab her crutches and open her door. She uses you to push herself up and balances herself with the crutches. You help her into her house and onto her couch. You feel out of place here and you don’t really know what else to do so you say goodbye.

“Well if you don’t need anything else then I’ll just go.” You tell her and she tilts her head at you.

“You don’t want to stay?” She asks.

“Well do you need help with anything else?” You ask.

“You don’t have to help me with something as a reason to stay.” She tells you and sees the conflict in your eyes. “Well it would help if you stayed. Keep me company cause I’ve been really bored. Sitting here most of the evening with nothing to do. I can’t even cook a lot because that requires two hands and perfect timing. And I wouldn’t mind some cuddles. You were right about that too, I crave physical affection from a partner.” She tells you and you make your way over and sit beside her on the couch. You don’t miss the way she beams when you decide not to leave.

“I knew you were a big softie.” You tease and she glares at you.

“If you tell anyone-”

“You’ll what?” You counter and raise your eyebrows, questioning her threat.

“Well I wouldn’t do anything to you but I’ll have to kill them.” She says and you laugh, knowing her threat is empty.

“I do forgive you btw, for what happened. Do you forgive me for what happened to you?” You ask her and she’s confused.

“Y/n, there was nothing to forgive, you didn’t do anything.”

“If I paid attention then it wouldn’t have forced you to save me.” You tell her.

“Y/n, like I said there’s nothing to forgive, but if it makes you feel better then I forgive you.” She tells you and you hug her. You have your arms wrapped around her neck and body pressed to hers. She puts her hands on your back cautiously then hugs you back. Feeling this is more intimate than any kiss she had with her exes. It’s a hug full of love, of promise to not letting each other go again. And you both keep that promise till death do you part.

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