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hyperballart · 2 months

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last nite

art donaldson x patrick zweig x reader !

art and patrick aren’t exactly subtle, and you are the push they didn’t know they needed.

(18+ pls!!)

author’s note: that one bitch (me) who doesn’t play about homoerotic friendships… this is mostly artrick but they all get nasty trust!

the swishing of the cheap beer from art’s mini fridge overlaps the song playing from the radio. it was something you recognized from this new york band you really liked—your friend had gifted you that record for your birthday a few years prior—you hummed out the tune as you sat on the desk chair of your friend’s dorm room, periodically lifting your gaze to the two boys also sharing the space.

you and patrick met at a local band’s show, that same night ended with you being pushed into the dark bathroom of the bar it was held at and you nearly swallowing each other’s tongues. he whispered into your ear about how good you tasted, how nice your ass felt in his hands, how fucking sexy you looked dancing out there. and after he bent you over the sink to get a taste of your sweet cunt and you returned the favor, the brunette gave you his number—it surprised you, that he wanted to continue seeing you and maybe take it further. it wasn’t until a couple hangouts that you met art.

he was by definition a good boy. always respectful and cordial around you, sweet, and even bashful at times. you coincidentally attended the same university—even shared common friends other than patrick. the three of you became well acquainted quickly. movie nights in art’s dorm when patrick came to visit, night drives to the beach, it was all simple and fun.

of course you and patrick hooked up whenever he came around, which seemed to frequent as he was on a month-long break from tour. on one of those particular nights, as you were riding him, somehow the topic of art came up.

“saw him at practice last week,” you take his earlobe between your teeth and slightly tug, “he’s really good.”

patrick stutters his hips and unwillingly twitches inside of you, as if images of his best friend playing flashed through his brain in those few seconds, “fuck, yeah he’s always been good.” his brain is too foggy to comprehend that he’s given away something you’ve been suspecting for a while—and you’ll keep digging to find what you really want.

you look down at him on the bed and notice how his mouth has dropped a bit further and his eyes become more slanted, you push your fingers into his mouth which he automatically starts to suck, and you ride him until he’s whimpering around them and filling you up. you’ll get something else out of him soon.

the next time happens to be the night right after, you’re at your favorite ice cream place and decide it’s the right time to keep prodding.

“you and art—you seem pretty close—how long have you known each other again?” you scrape the sides of your cup from the melted treat and look at him eating his.

“well, we went to boarding school together,” patrick speaks with some waffle cone bits crunching in his mouth—a horrible habit of his you have come to detest from the few months of knowing him—“we shared a room since we were 12, i think i’ve mentioned this,” he swallows everything in his mouth down and continues, “we are pretty close. we’d get teased for it a lot in school—i never really gave a fuck but you know art. he takes things to heart.”

“right, i can see that,” you didn’t exactly plan out how you were going to lead him to where you wanted but you get an idea, “i wanna know more. tell me some fun stories, i can imagine you two got up to a lot of trouble,” you fully turn to face him in your seat.

he racks his brain for a while and eventually, “one time i got caught with porno magazines under my bed and i blamed art. it was this whole thing—his grandma gave him an earful over the phone—god she was pissed,” a chuckle leaves him as he recalls the story, “anyway, we almost got kicked out and he didn’t speak to me for weeks. can’t remember how we made up or how i even got in possession of those magazines but we definitely learned our lesson.”

you’re giggling, “god you’re awful, what else have you put poor innocent art through?”

he turns to face you now, “i taught him everything he knows,” a smug smirk slowly takes over his expression, “ taught him how to kiss and how to jerk off. poor thing didn’t even know how to handle morning wood before i showed him.”

and there’s your chance, “so you two have like…”

he pauses and takes in your assumption, “oh god no, not like that,” a hand runs down his face quickly as a laugh of disbelief leaves him. “we’ve never—would never go there, you know? no shame to anyone who does we just—it was practice before we started dating and all that. was just helping him out.”

and well, that gave you enough of an incentive.

now you’re all in art’s dorm, a little buzzed from the alcohol and tired from a day at the beach. patrick sits on a small couch with his legs spread. both boys have decided to forgo their shirts, only in their swim trunks—patrick’s much shorter than the blonde’s. you still in your bikini top and tiny jean shorts.

“what about that girl you were seeing, what’s her name again?” patrick interrogates a clearly agitated art who sits on the floor rolling his eyes.

“i told you that’s over, she wasn’t looking for anything serious and i found out the hard way.”

“he means he saw her making out with one of his buddies at a frat party,” you add smirking over your bottle.

“okay, fuck off first of all—“

“hey, man calm down, look—“ patrick interjected, “there’s lots of chicks that would bang you, i’m sure a pretty boy like you has no problem getting laid. go charm up some nice girl that volunteers at the soup kitchen on her free time and—“

“fuck you patrick.” there’s no malice behind his words though—and you can spot the blush that takes over his pale complexion at the previous remark as he shakes his head. “it’s easy for you to say,” he looks up at you as he says it, “you guys fuck like rabbits any chance you get.”

“is that what it is then? you being pent up?” you cut in. “there’s lot of girls here who would love to fuck you, artie. you’re telling me none have caught your eye?”

art is silent, looking to see what patrick was thinking, but the latter simply looks curious—excited almost— and so he just sits picking at the hem of his shorts.

“oh i get it,” you continue, “you’re jealous. you think i’m taking your precious best friend away, don’t you?” you slide down from the chair to take a spot right next to him and whisper the next thing so only he hears, “you are jealous. don’t worry, we can share him.”

you pull back to see his pupils dilated and his mouth slightly parted, in shock and arousal—maybe even in acceptance. you can’t help the small grin as you look from him to the other still sitting on the couch, you can see his chest rising a bit heavier now.

you feel that as an agreement from both as you perch on the bed and call them both to follow at each of your sides. you can feel them eyeing you and for a split second, you see them staring at each other in a way that surpasses anything platonic they insist on having.

when you feel them both lean in to opposite sides of your neck you halt their movements. a look of confusion passes through their faces as they wait for you to explain.

“i think you guys have some making up to do,” the look on their faces creases further, “art, aren’t you curious to feel what his lips are like again? i have a feeling he has improved greatly since you were 13.”

art’s face falls, he looks at patrick in annoyance, “you said you would never tell, dude what the fuck.”

patrick just shrugs, still wanting to proceed. “i told you, that was only for practice. we’re grown now.”

“sure,” you pretend to let it go and you have on a stupid smile that he just wants to kiss off your face. you start leaning towards patrick and grant him that wish, using your hand on his jaw to give you access to his tongue. it quickly becomes heated, you land on his lap and grind yourself on the hard bulge in his trunks. his big hand gropes your ass and he moans greedily in your mouth. you pull away and let him suck and nip on the length of your neck before looking at art, who looks pitiful with his mouth hung open and his eyes lingering on the spot where patrick is occupied. a smirk returns to your swollen lips.

you tug on patricks hair and swivel even harder on his dick, leading to him groaning out a fuck me baby, and you swear you see art’s cock twitch under the layer of thin clothing. you leave patricks lap despite his efforts to keep you there, now sat on the pretty blonde who can’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands. you stop his stressing when you place both of his palms on your hips, trailing them up to your barely-covered tits where he gives a soft squeeze and lets out a little whine. you finally lean down to kiss him and it’s as you’d expect from him—tentative and soft. a kiss you’d get from a boyfriend after a nice dinner date—not from whatever this was.

he lets out hums and low moans, but you can tell he’s getting desperate. god knows how long it’s been since he’s fucked something other than his hand. you pull away and return to your spot between them. they instantly both try to catch your lips, it’s messy with all three of you licking and sucking and kissing. at this point no one knows whose mouth is whose, and it doesn’t even matter because suddenly you’re pulling off. you lean back to catch your breath and then you see them.

they lick into each other’s mouths, art is mewling and patrick grips his curls to hold him in place. they seem to catch on after a ridiculous amount of time but when they do, they stare at you while they’re heaving breaths.

“are you guys gonna take care of that?” you look down at their laps, both having matching leaks of pre bleeding through their shorts. “come on get them out, you’ve seen each other plenty before right? nothing to be shy of.”

they both listen, each erection slapping up and standing on its own. it’s obscene and you dont think you’ve ever been this wet in your life. art’s cock is so pretty—you think—pink and curved. he is smooth, you always had assumed he would be anyway. you can tell he takes good care of himself, his balls the same flushed pink he gets on his cheeks when you tease him. the tip of him is so red, a dribble of white streaming down when he notices your attention on his cock—you almost coo at it when it twitches.

then you look at patrick. that same cock you love and worship. he’s thicker in girth, your pussy pulsates when your mind trails to the stretch he gives you. his balls are heavy, and he doesn’t ever fully shave them. you like them like that—the musk and how they give friction to your clit when hes fucking you. he’s also drooling from his tip. you decide to start off slow.

you scoot forwards and extend your arms to their laps. each one of your hands holds them and at the contact, they can’t help but buck their hips. you think it’s adorable to see them synchronized like that.

“ah, shit!” patrick throws his head back and looks down at you jerking him off, then looks to his right at the other cock in your hand and shakes his head in disbelief, “i can’t—fuck—i can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“i see the way you look at him, pat,” you quicken the speed of your hands and both of them cry out, “i gave you both what you wanted, handed on a silver fucking platter. i think you should be a little more grateful. in fact, my hands are getting tired,” and with that, you cut all contact with them and you can quite literally see them wilt.

“wha- no, please,” art manages to get through a whine, “my hand doesn’t—it doesn’t feel as good i’m so hard it hurts, please—“

“who said anything about using your own hand?”you cut him off.

patrick hesitantly stretches his arm over his friend’s lap, “we’re just,” his fingers make contact with art’s dick and he almost drools, “helping each other out.” an experimental tug has his back arching and makes him shut his eyes tight.

“pat-patrick—oh fuck.”

one would think art already came by how much he’s wetting his friend’s hand, and patrick seems to be mesmerized by the sight. “holy fuck art, look at how much you’re spilling,” as if on cue, that makes him squirt out more. art is gripping his sheets and his eyes dart from the hand stroking him fast and the boy in front of him.

“i’m—don’t go so fucking fast,” art tries to get out, “it’s been a while if—nghh—if you don’t slow down i’m gonna—fuck!” patrick clearly enjoys this as he can’t help laughing at his state.

“don’t tell me you’re a virgin, artie,” he slows down but continues teasing, “thought i taught you how to hold off better than that.”

and while you’d love to keep watching art squirm under his torture, you stop him, “i got an idea.”

patrick reluctantly pulls away and they both now stare expectantly, “push both of your cocks together, here like this—“ you direct them to sit with their legs spread in front of each other, overlapping and then you position them how you want them.

they can’t even speak, they’re just panting and looking down at the contact until you continue, “come on pat, hold both of them together,” you watch as he does so and grimaces trying to hold off, “look at that, your tips are kissing—how cute.”

they both whine and patrick mutters a shut up under his breath.

after a minute of heavy breathing, patricks large hand slowly strokes down on both of their cocks. it’s so wet, the sound of the slicking lewdly filling up the room but the sound of their cries is almost enough to drown it out. art is almost sobbing at this point, you’ve never heard someone sound so desperate. they almost can’t bare the friction of each other, their tangled legs twitching and shaking.

you almost start to get annoyed at how slow patrick is going for the sake of making the feeling last, but in a way you think it’s sweet. the years they’ve held off on each other finally leading to this—they deserved it. you’re still annoyed tho.

“go faster,” as the words leave your mouth they both mewl and shake their heads, “you look so hot like this, i’m so wet. i’m thinking of letting you both fuck me—at the same time. just like this, both in my cunt,” patrick’s hand loosens his grip he is almost shivering now, he has to hold off, “why’d you let go, hm?” you pull his hand back on, “i want you both to imagine it, it’s gonna be a tighter fit than this,” you pull your hand over patrick’s and tighten the grip hard, “there you go.”

art can’t even make out words anymore, the second he heard you say you wanted them both at once, his ears started ringing. as if that wasn’t enough, the tightened grip made him moan out pleas over and over. when he looks down, he knows he can’t hold longer and he lets you both know, “i’m gonna, i can’t it’s too much, too much, too tight i—“

you take this as your chance to do what you wanted since you saw the tent in his shorts, you lean down to where they are connected and suckle on his tip and that does it. he sobs out a curse and starts twitching, he cums all over your lips and patrick, you can’t believe how much is coming out of him.

patrick just about loses his mind when he sees it all happen. it’s a miracle he lasted over two minutes like this and he’s about to pass out, “oh fuck me, yeah fucking soak that dick—oh god— you’re so wet—how do you get this fucking—“ he suddenly yanks art by his neck and fucks his tongue into his mouth again, and even tho he is still dizzy from his orgasm, he kisses back just as messily. that’s the final straw for patrick to cum all over them and squeeze their tips together for the last time that night.

you watch it all happen with a lazy smile. they both lay down, still out of it while you scratch their heads gently and murmur sweet affirmations to them. you’re between them and it feels just right. you don’t need to talk about what happened just yet. just sleepily kiss each other until you knock out.

they’ll make up not making you cum tomorrow, you can picture them both licking between your legs and when they take turns suckling your clit, you’ll pretend not to notice how they’re jerking each other off out of your sight <3

#dont know how to feel about this tbh #art donaldson smut #patrick zweig smut #artrick x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers fic #challengers smut #patrick zweig fic #art donaldson fic #patrick zweig x you #art donaldson x you #my writing

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zweiginator · 3 months

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Crawling After You (Patrick Zweig x Reader)

includes: mutual pining, friends to lovers, secret relationship

Patrick was your best friend in the whole world since childhood. You both went to tennis camps together and then to boarding school. Your parents are best friends, and they all thought your friendship would fizzle out by the time you hit puberty, but you stayed close.

And both of you would be in your own respective relationships that would inevitably fizzle out when your partners couldn’t get past your closeness. The bona fide twinkle in your eyes when you saw each other, even when it had only been a day or two.

Your friends all have crushes on him; they giggle and twirl their hair at his matches. They say they’re there for you, but you see how they blush when Patrick grunts, when he peels his shirt off and throws his battered racket against the pavement.

“You’ve never thought about fucking him?” Your friend asked you after your match. You were pissed about losing; Patrick was in your peripheral, beaming with his own friends about his big win against an NCAA favorite from UCLA.

“No.” You took a gulp of water, shaking your head. “I haven’t.”

“Do you think he thinks of fucking you?” Another friend butted in. “I mean, how can you resist that?”

You repeated yourself. “No.” Another sip of water, to help you hold your tongue. You weren’t in a good mood. “Patrick does not need help in the dating department, I know he doesn’t think of me that way. We are friends and that’s it.”

Except, since last summer, you had been fucking. A lot. The problem was that you and Patrick hated being told, “I told you so.”

And every single person you had crossed paths with, from middle school teachers, to tennis coaches, to acquaintances in your class were convinced you and Patrick would inevitably end up together. The story was too picturesque, your interests too aligned.

So you kept it a secret. You kept your chin high when girls fawned over Patrick, and he bit the inside of his cheek when boys whistled as you entered the court.

Last summer, Patrick and you got in a huge fight. You had never fought before; your friendship was uncomplicated. Neither of you ever directly competed against the other in tennis, you had almost everything in common. But after a team dinner one night in July, he and you were seething.

“Oh my god, Patrick.” You shoved his chest, annoyed that he barely moved from the force. You were in the parking lot, leaning against his expensive Jeep, a gift from his parents. “All you do is talk about the most shallow, meaningless fucking things.”

It started after he began to complain about your piqued interest in politics. You had always been well-read, but as Patrick said, “You just don’t need to talk about it all the fucking time.”

“What the fuck do I talk about that’s shallow? Tennis? Because last time I checked we both do that.” He rolled his eyes. “And don’t fucking shove me.”

You mocked him. You knew that was his biggest pet peeve. “You’re mad because I care about what’s happening in the world? Do you hear yourself?”

“I’m mad because you sound like a piece of shit politician, and your fucking personality changes as soon as you start talking to a new guy. And you’re becoming so fucking pretentious since you started hanging out with that fucking douchebag Vincent.”

You scoffed. “I find it funny you call me pretentious when you grew up in a fucking castle. Ironic coming from a kid who had escargot and caviar served to him on a platter at age 6.”

“What are you even talking about? You’re just saying shit that doesn’t even make sense because you know I’m right!”

You looked up at him through your eyelashes. “I don’t change my personality. I’m not even talking to anyone right now, and if I were, why does that even concern you?”

“Oh okay.” Patrick nudged you to move you away from the driver’s side door, letting himself in. “Get in, it’s about to rain.”

“No. What were you gonna say?”

He yelled your name. “I don’t want to get drenched. Just fucking get in!”

You crossed your arms. He was right, the wind was picking up, goosebumps peppered your arms all over and your hair blew into your face.

“Fine, then don’t.” He got into the car and started it. The headlights hurt your head and burned saucers into your retinas.

The rain began slow; fat droplets splashed against the curb and dribbled down your cheeks. And then it was faster, and the wind grew stronger, and you stood your ground. Patrick watched you, he watched your gray Stanford shirt get soaked, and your tennis skirt become plastered to your legs. Your hair was flush against your cheeks, eyelids heavy.

“Fucking get in the car.” He wasn’t yelling anymore. His shoulders were slumped, and you know he felt defeated as he got out of the car.

“Why don’t you tell me anything?” You started to cry. You didn’t know where this was coming from; this tantrum.

Patrick was soaked too. “I do tell you things!”

“Not as much.”

“It’s hard. It was easier when we were kids.”

“But what changed?” The engine grew louder, almost crescendoing in your ears.

"We aren't kids anymore. Everyone is always asking about me and you. There's no such thing as our innocent little friendship."

His words broke your heart. And he saw that as your shoulders slumped and your eyes welled with tears. "So what?" You asked. "What are you saying?"

Patrick sighed, pushing his wet hair away from his face. His white t-shirt was see-through, his broad shoulders rippling as the wind tore against his lean body. His voice was soft now. "Let's go back to the hotel. Stay in my room and we can talk."

The ride to the hotel was silent. Usually, Patrick would complain about water all over his leather seats, but he didn't say a word, and you wondered why, out of all the heartbreaks you had been through, why this conversation had chewed you up and spit you out so violently.

You sat on the bed with him and waited for him to speak first.

"Do you need a towel?"

You shook your head.

"What I was saying before," He began. "Why do we act like it's normal that in each of our relationships, the common denominator is that we are way too close?"

"We've never-"

"I know." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm just saying maybe this friendship isn't really serving us anymore, and maybe it's causing more harm than good."

"You know what?" You stood up, grabbing your bag. "I've sat here and been your best fucking friend for twenty years, and now you're just taking the easy way out like you always do." You slung it over your shoulder. "I'll leave. Don't worry, I'll leave."

You wanted him to chase you down. He didn't. He didn't say bye or that he was sorry. One big fight during twenty years of friendship, and it would seemingly be your last.

The tournament was going on for another 3 days. After 2 nights of barely sleeping and going through the motions, of leaving the court whenever a mens' match was on, there was a knock on your door. You let him in; of course you did.

"I wasn't telling you I didn't want to be friends anymore." He whispered. Your back was against the door.

"Okay."

His finger trailed from the dip of your collarbones to your chin. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You swallowed, loudly, looking up at him inquisitively, waiting for him to finish his thought.

He fucked you with your legs over his shoulders, while your roommate was at lunch with the rest of the team. Patrick muffled your moans by spilling his own into your mouth. Sweat dribbled off his chest and your nails raked down his back as he thrust into you, over and over and over again. Twenty years of reserved angst and repressed feelings manifested in desperate whimpers and the sound of skin on skin echoing off the chipped taupe walls.

No words, at that moment, needed to be said. He was yin and you were yang. Your friendship began and ended where your bodies met. And it would never be the same.

He told you he loved you after he came, and you reciprocated those feelings. Something was so thrilling about the secret, though. Of people gossiping and speculating about the two of you. Of you both feigning disgust at the idea of fucking your best friend, only to ride him in the back of his car until the windows fogged up, and his chest was red and raw from your desperate scratches.

You loved the thrill. One whole year of sneaking around and nobody had a clue.

One year of pretending to get sick at parties, so Patrick would follow you into the bathroom and eat you out on the bathroom sink until your legs shook, raw from his stubble.

One year of Patrick tugging on the collar of his shirt during a match to signal he wanted you waiting in his car for him afterward. If he won, he made love to you slowly, rocking his hips, so his cock went deep, deep inside. When he lost, he spat on you, and left bruises on your ass that stung the next week as you sat on the metal bleachers.

It was hard to fit twenty years of love and pining into that one year without it bubbling over. At graduation, you and your friends threw your caps into the air and Patrick kissed you. Hands on your waist, tongue in your mouth.

The team gasped. They hadn't known your secret for the past year. But they did know it was only a matter of time.

#challengers #challengers smut #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig fanfic #art donaldson #challengers x reader #patrick zweig #even if i want to just write small little thing it always becomes long as hell #its bc i love him

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jockbroski34 · 7 months

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How Things Used To Be

I wonder how long it took me to notice that there was something wrong with Nathan. We had been best friends for years, ever since the 5th grade, and we always hung out together both in and out of school. I was hoping things could’ve stayed like that this summer, but it seemed like fate had other plans. Between family vacations and college prep, it seemed like he didn’t have time for me anymore. And to make it worse, whenever he wasn’t doing that, he was hanging out with some other guys who I had never met, and he never even bothered to ask me if I wanted to come with. I know people grow and change, but I didn’t want to see it happen to my own best friend. On the bright side, we’re going to the same college, so I hope I can see him around.

And I did see him. It was the third week of courses, once I was starting to get acquainted with campus life. For once, I was actually being more social, trying to fill the gap that Nathan left. I used this opportunity to start talking to people in my classes and I found that we had some similar interests. I wish I could say the same for my roommate, but he mostly keeps to himself and we don’t have much in common.

Okay, back to Nathan. I was walking back to the dorms after my last class, texting one of my classmates about the homework. I was interrupted when I walked headfirst into another student. I should’ve been paying more attention to my surroundings. I looked up at the giant in front of me, probably 6’3”, before apologizing.

“James, is that you?” the giant asked. The voice sounded very familiar, yet at the same time, different. I took a closer look at him. “Long time no see, huh?” I was surprised when I realized who it was.

“Nate? Woah, what happened to you?” I couldn’t believe that this person in front of me was my best friend. This was not the same Nathan from three months ago during graduation. He was always a bit taller than me, but he had to have grown at least 3 inches. He used to wear glasses, but it seemed like he switched over to contacts.

In the warm August heat, he was wearing a tank top which revealed his newfound biceps for the whole world to see. The tank top clung closely to his chest and I could see his newly-formed six-pack through the fabric. He was wearing basketball shorts that were short enough that I could catch a glimpse of his thighs, which were just as big as his arms. I never knew Nathan went to the gym, and if he did, he never told me. But still, I couldn’t comprehend how he became so huge in just three months, which made me more curious about what he had been up to. A backwards hat fit tightly atop his head with Greek letters on them. Sigma Lambda Chi… Had Nathan really joined a frat? To be completely honest, he looked like he was cosplaying as a frat bro, a far cry from how I knew him.

“Like what you see, bro?” James chuckled, as he flexed one of his arms. He definitely never came across as a cocky showoff, but I was too distracted by his flexed bicep to notice. I caught myself staring for a second too long, before feeling my face turn red hot. Me and Nathan knew everything about each other, but there was one thing I never told him. I was gay. To tell you the truth, I had a crush on him, but I knew I could never tell him to preserve our friendship. But now he looks even better, and he hasn’t made time for me at all. Now he really felt out of my league.

“I’ve been working out a lot lately. I’m glad you noticed.” He still had his signature smile, but it looked out of place on his new body. His face especially looked a lot more angular and masculine. A visible tan glazed over his body like a fresh coat of paint.

“Daaamn! You look great, dude!” To be honest, I wasn’t sure how to feel talking to him again. On one hand, I was happy to see him again, and, admittedly, a little surprised to see him like this. On the other hand, he ditched me this whole summer to hang out with some other guys. It felt so bittersweet.

“If there weren’t other people around, I’d let you…I mean uh, how have you been bro? I know I’ve been busy a lot lately. Sorry about that, dude.” We told each other what we did over the summer, and wow, was his summer more interesting.

As we caught up, I learned more about what he has been up to. Apparently, he joined a frat and he was hanging out with the guys there more and more. He promised that he’d bring me to a party sometime, but I was hesitant because I’m not much of a party animal. That lifestyle just isn’t for me. He also said he was thinking about joining our school’s football team at the request of his roommate, which I found even more surprising because Nathan never played sports in high school. I did track, but I was never that big into sports myself. Our conversation was interrupted as another guy entered the scene.

“Yo, Nate! Finally found you. You seriously need to get better at texting me back, dude. And who’s this dude?” The guy was wearing the same hat as Nate, so I figured he was one of his frat bros.

“My bad, bro. Brett, this is James. We go way back. James, this is Brett. He’s my roommate. We met over the summer and we’ve been hanging out since.”

“Alright, cool, bro,” Brett responded, clearly impatient and indifferent towards me. He dismissed me entirely, almost like I wasn’t worth his time. “You still going to the gym with me or what?”

“Sorry, bro. I just ran into him and we were catching up.” Nathan responded. “Hey, I gotta get going. We should get food sometime. Peace!” I watched as Nathan and Brett walked away in the opposite direction of me towards the gym. As they moved further away, I could hear Brett chastise him about something. This is the guy that Nathan ditched me for? I hope I’m wrong, but he seemed like kind of a dick. I know I was jealous of him for taking up my best friend’s time, but I didn’t trust him. As for me, I returned to the dorm to work on the assignment with my roommate.

The next time I saw Nate was that weekend, when I held up his promise to get something to eat. I tried to ask him about it earlier in the week, but he was doing stuff at the frat all that time. I was at least grateful that he took time out of his schedule for me for once. He mentioned that he normally doesn’t hang out with anyone who wasn’t in the frat, almost like they were some exclusive bro clique that I was excluded from. For once, it was good to hang out with him one-on-one without any of his frat bros getting in the way. I expected things to be like how they were before, but I couldn’t be any more wrong.

It’s not that I disliked the new Nathan, but I felt like we didn’t have much common ground anymore. It was like he was a completely different person. He didn’t seem to care that much about our old interests anymore. He didn’t have time for video games and he just wasn’t that interested in watching movies or photography anymore. All he seemed to care about was working out all day and partying all night. All he would talk about was some stupid stuff he or one of his bros did.

Plus, he told me he switched his major from mechanical engineering to be a personal trainer. It seemed like he just became a total gym bro overnight. The studious and witty Nathan that I loved kinda just seemed to be a stereotypical meathead now. The worst part was that I knew that this was the same Nathan deep down, and he still treated me the same even if he was a lot busier. I felt like maybe I was the problem since he was clearly still having a good time, and I wasn’t. Why do I feel this way?

I felt my mood change as we talked. Eventually, I figured it was time to cut off the conversation and return to the dorm, but Nathan definitely knew something was off. He texted me later that evening, asking me if everything was alright. To be honest, I wanted to make some lame excuse that I was feeling sick, but we’ve always been honest with each other, so I told him how I really felt.

Me: Nate, to be honest, I think I need some time away from you. I don’t hate you or anything, but it feels like we’ve been growing apart and I feel like you’ve become a different person. I feel like when I look at you, I don’t see the Nathan I’ve known for years, but someone else entirely.

I wanted to say more about how I felt about his new changes, but I didn’t want to escalate things.

Nathan: James, I’m sorry you feel that way about me. I felt like we had a good time today. I’ve grown and changed a lot recently, and I’ve realized a lot about myself, but I’m happy with who I am right now. I know I’m spending a lot of time at the gym or with Brett or my other bros, but I still care about you deeply, bro. You might be right though. Hanging out with you isn’t the same as hanging with the guys at the frat.

Me: Do you honestly see yourself as just a frat boy? You’re more than that. You’re my best friend. But now, you have more in common with the jocks from high school than the Nathan I knew. It’s hard talking to you now since all you care about anymore are your gains and partying. You’re nothing more than a meathead now.

Nathan: So that’s how you see me, bro? The reason I had been avoiding you is because I knew that you wouldn’t like seeing me like this. I guess I was right, bro. But trust me, I’m happy like this. I’m a lot more social than when I was when I was with you, and I’ve even become more in shape too. I care about our friendship more than you can possibly imagine, but I guess this is for the best. To be honest, I think it would be a lot of fun if you were here in the frat with me, but I know you wouldn’t say yes.

I didn’t bother responding. I could never picture myself joining a frat. I would never get along with his frat bro friends, especially Brett, who seemed to be the one he was closest with. I still couldn’t believe Nate would choose him over me. I wasn’t sure whether to feel angry, or sad, or disappointed towards him. I felt like he was wasting his life partying when he should be studying. To think this was the person I cared about more than anyone. It was at this point that I figured I probably wouldn’t have my old friend back. Or so I thought.

A couple weeks passed and I tried to move on from Nathan. I always saw him on his story drinking and partying late into the night at the frat house or posting selfies at the gym. He looked like he was fully embracing his new frat boy persona now. If he didn’t still care about me, it would’ve felt like he was doing it out of spite. As for me, I started to hang out with my classmates more and more, and there was even a guy I went on a date with. It was a nice date and I did like the guy, but for some reason, the thought of Nathan lingered in my mind. Even though I hated what he had become, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about him. I couldn’t deny how much he turned me on. Why was I still thirsting after a stupid fucking frat bro? One afternoon, after I returned to my dorm, I received a text on my phone. To my surprise, it was Nathan.

“Hey bro, can we talk? There are some things I need to get off my chest.”

I didn’t know what he could possibly want with me now. I suppose I can hear him out just so I can see what he wants. I went over to his room further down the hall, and thankfully Brett was not here to ruin the moment. Nate said that he was doing some preparations for some stuff at the frat. When I asked, he didn’t specify what though. It always feels like stuff at the frat is kept under wraps.

“Did you want a drink?”

“Sure.”

“Even if it’s beer?” A mischievous grin appeared on his face. Was he seriously offering me beer? I knew that alcohol wasn’t allowed in the dorms, but clearly that rule didn’t faze him. Obviously he knew how to get his hands on some drinks. To be honest, I had never drank alcohol before, but I figured this would be the easiest way to try it before I turned 21. Plus, it might alleviate the tension between us. Either that or make us fight like two drunkards in a bar.

“Sure, why not.” Nate went to get two bottles for us. I took my first sip and was disgusted by the bitter taste of the beer.

“You don’t like it? Neither did I at first,” Nate chuckled. “After a while, you get used to it.” Nate turned the TV on as we chatted. I apologized about what I said about him last time we talked, but he said it was no big deal. I felt like I was a little too harsh on him. It could just be the alcohol, but I found that I got along with him better than I did weeks ago. As we chatted, my body started to tingle. Was this how it felt like to be drunk?

“Hey, Nate. I feel kinda weird, but not like drunk weird. Is this normal, bro?” I asked. By this point, we both had two drinks each. I didn’t mind the taste of the beer the second time.

“Nah, you’re fine bro.” Nate responded, with a smile on his face. Compared to me, he appeared to be much more sober. “It happens sometimes, especially when you’re not used to it.” I figured he knew best, since he was the one drinking and partying all the time, so I ignored this foreign feeling rushing through my body. I felt as if my body was overheating as I felt my arms and legs throb and pulsate. Sweat was leaking off my armpits and down my forehead. There was part of me that knew that something was off, but it was drowned out by the alcohol. As I took another sip, I felt my arm spasm as I accidentally spilled some beer onto my shirt. Shit, I wasn’t expecting to do laundry later.

“Damn bro, you made a mess. You alright? Do you wanna change your shirt?” Nate asked. I nodded and he quickly went to his room to pick out something for me. It wasn’t the first time I had to wear his clothes. “Sorry about that, bro. First thing I found. Hope it fits you.” It was a stringer tank with Sigma Lambda Chi on it. I bet Nate looked like a walking symbol of the frat wearing that stuff. For some reason, the idea was kinda amusing to me because it seemed so over the top. I wondered how I would look dressed up like that. I’d probably look really stupid.

I stripped out of my wet shirt and changed right in front of him. I caught a whiff from my armpits, and I thought I smelled like a sweaty gym bro. The tank appeared to be a size up and it hung loosely on me. Still, it was better than nothing I guess. Despite that, it had a nice familiar smell to it though. It smelled like Nathan, but at the same time, it had a different flavor to it. He smelled a lot more manly than I remembered. I bet he wore it to the gym often.

Eventually, after my third drink, I went to go to the bathroom. My body was starting to ache, like I had just done a workout with Nate earlier. Workout…Was that what happened earlier? …I think so? Did we work out after class and come back to his place for some brewskis? For some reason, the events of today felt incredibly fuzzy to me. I was starting to forget the reason I was here in the first place.

I clumsily stumbled over my feet which looked bigger than usual. After I took a piss, I looked at myself in the mirror. Something was off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I didn’t always look that big, right? From a first glance, it looked like I was looking through one of those distorted mirrors they have at amusement parks. I had to have been really drunk at this point. I chuckled at the figure in front of me. At this point, I almost looked like one of those frat bros! I decided to flex my arms like they would, oblivious to the fact that they already grew just a little bit, before joining Nate on the couch.

“There you are, big man!” he said as he squeezed my muscles. I have been working out recently, I think. “I thought you passed out in there. Most guys don’t last that long for their first time, but you look good enough for another brewski.”

After downing our fourth drinks, the conversation took a different turn.

“Yo, James. I knew you said you weren’t too big on the idea of joining our frat last time we chatted, but how do you feel now, having thought things over?”

I remembered our last conversation. Honestly, I was so drunk that I didn’t remember why I turned him down in the first place. The idea that seemed unappealing to me at the time seemed like it was perfect for me at this moment. I didn’t even understand why I would be so reluctant to join. I needed to join more than anything else. I would do anything to join, even if I had to completely humiliate myself in front of my fellow bros. At this point, nothing was too extreme for me. The fact that Nate was in it was enough reason to join, so we could hang out more like we used to. Plus, I could get to hang out with all my other bros and drink and party whenever we want.

“I’ve given it some thought, and yeah bro, I’ll join,” my voice slurred as my mouth moved before my mind could. I had committed at this point. No backing out now. I’m a member of Sigma Lambda Chi for life.

“Sweet, bro!” He grabbed me on my far shoulder and pulled me close. “I’m glad you said yes, because I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes, bro.”

I closed my eyes as Nate went into his room to grab something. Did I actually agree to join his frat? I’m not sure what’s going on with me today. When he came back, I felt Nate press on my head as his “surprise” fit tight around it. “You can open them now.”

I realized I was wearing the same hat that Nate always wore, with his frat’s letters printed on it. “We’re gonna be matching now, bro. Isn’t that awesome? I know you’re gonna want to wear it whenever and wherever. But you’re wearing it wrong. Let me fix it for you, dude.” He turned the brim around so it faced my back. As my hat turned backwards, I felt my mind fog up and any tension or brain activity screech to a halt. I was unable to realize what I signed myself up for, unable to protest. My conscious mind was drowned out by the alcohol and this hat was like a lock, sealing it away. Not that I was against this, as a wave of pleasure surged through me. I felt my mind slow down, almost as if it was stuck in molasses, as my thoughts began to simplify. It felt good though...

I would follow the example of my fellow brothers. Look like them, think like them, act like them. Almost like a hivemind of bros, you know, bro? By this point, the changes were irreversible. Nate had turned me into another frat bro just like him.

“Everything worked out as planned, bro. You see, when you, my own best bro, told me you didn’t want to join the frat with me, I was actually really hurt. So I talked to Brett, and had him “work his magic”, to help me do to you what he did to me. I don’t like to lie to you, but it’s a frat secret, so now you get to know bro. Like I said, it’s a secret, so don’t talk about this with anyone.”

“Don’t worry about it bro. It’s all…uh…

Fuck dude, what’s the word…water under the bridge? Huhuhu…” I really had to think about that one. I found it harder to articulate and use complex words, as I mainly just spoke in bro-speak. To be honest, I wasn’t really that upset that he lied to me. He did what he had to as a member of the frat. I never stayed mad at one of my bros for very long.

“Now we get to be brothers for life,” he said as he gave me a big bro hug. We clung to each other like two giant masses of muscle. My huge biceps wrapped around his firm back as his did for me. Afterwards, he handed me my fifth drink and we cheered to me joining Sigma Lambda Chi. He laid down all of the rules, what everything was like, telling me about the coolest guys there, and so on. He said he’d bring me to the frat house and introduce me to everyone tomorrow. “They’re gonna love you for sure, bro. I’ve got an eye for cool bros like you.”

As it got later, and we moved on to drink numero 6, I felt myself get very tired as we both passed out on his couch. I woke up a couple hours later, and I looked out the window to see a pitch black sky. Shit, it was almost 10 PM and I had to turn in my assignment at midnight. But for some reason, I didn’t really care right now. I didn’t mind turning in assignments late as long as the teacher still gave me credit. I felt no different from the way I was a couple hours ago, just another Sigma Lambda Chi frat bro, but I liked it. It felt right to me. It was where I, no, where we belonged.

I looked down. Nate’s tank hung tightly to me now. It took me a second to notice my arms…Holy shit, they were fucking huge! I looked awesome, bro. As I admired my new body, Nate was still asleep, his hand on my meaty thigh. Just above that, my dick throbbed through my pants. Fuck, I was so horny for some reason. Eventually, Nate slowly regained consciousness.

“I usually don’t drink this much on a school day,” Nate said, still a little hungover as he rubbed his eyes. We sat in silence for about a minute before he spoke again. “By the way, there was another reason I invited you over. There’s something that’s been on my chest for a while.”

“Go ahead, bro. I can take it,” I responded confidently. My voice sounded deeper and more bro-like than usual, just like him.

“Here goes, dude. I think I like you, bro. Not like you, but I think I like like you. I know it’s hella gay, but I couldn’t stand to see you be so cold to me. That’s why I had to make you a bro like me. I’m sure you’ll love it here, bro. And hey, if you’re not gay, that’s cool. We can forget this shit ever happened and go back to being bros for life.”

At first, I honestly thought I was still dreaming. First, he turned me into a frat boy, and now, he was confessing his feelings to me? How crazier could this night get? For all my life, I thought he was straight. I remembered being glad when he broke up with his girlfriend two years back. I couldn’t stand her. When he joined Sigma Lambda Chi, I assumed he was 100% straight and that he was banging some sorority chicks every night. To think he felt the same way I did all this time.

“Bro, I like you too. When you stopped talking to me, I started to get kinda jealous. I didn’t want to accept you for who you are. But being your bro just isn’t enough for me, bro.” I leaned in for a kiss, my inhibitions still nowhere to be found. It was my first kiss and it was with the person I cherished most. I felt like I was in heaven. I didn’t really care that I was a dumb frat bro like him anymore. I never did. That shit was stupid anyways. But now, Nate fixed our friendship and made us closer than ever. I loved the taste of his lips against mine and I didn’t want it to end but eventually Nate parted our lips.

“Wanna fuck me, bro?” he whispered in my ear. A flirtatious smirk was plastered on his face, and one of his hands was still wrapped around my neck. This was real. I nodded as he took me to his bed. I had never done this before, but I’ve seen plenty of porn, so I knew what to expect. He laid down on his back and stripped naked. I never felt this aroused before. My dick even looked bigger than it used to be. I was so pent up that I felt like I was holding this load in for months. I guess frat bros really are as horny as they say. I lubed up my larger cock before sticking it into Nate’s hole.

My serpent stretched out his tight hole as he had clearly not seen much action down there until now. I pounded his ass as my dick went in and out of him. In and out, in and out, in and out…It was a steady rhythm, my dick was like a metronome. My hands clung to him as I held him in place, pinning him to his bed. My hands ran all over his shoulders, broad and muscular, built like a football player’s. We both felt absolutely euphoric as our deep, masculine moans filled the room. The moans were loud enough that the students on the other side of the wall could easily hear them, but I didn’t care about any noise complaints as I fucked him harder and harder. After half an hour of fucking, he both hit our orgasm at almost exactly the same time. I ejaculated inside his tight hole, my hot, sticky seed flooding his insides as Nate came all over his abs. At this point I was exhausted and still hungover and I basically fell on top of him on his bed. We were both panting and out of breath.

“I knew you were a good fucker, bro.” he whispered seductively as he kissed me. We stayed in that position for several minutes until we heard the door open.

“Yo, Nate! Did you do it? How did it go?” a voice asked, shouting loudly from the other room. I recognized the voice as Brett’s. He peeked into the room, witnessing the two of us cuddling together naked. To be honest, I thought he would’ve been grossed out. Guess I had the wrong idea about him.

“Better than expected, dude,” Nate responded. He didn’t seem to care that we were both naked in front of his roommate and that we just got back from our trip to Pound Town.

“He looks way better this way, don’t you agree, bro? But man, dude, now I know why you wanted him to be a pledge so bad. I was wondering why you wouldn’t fuck any of those sexy sorority babes. More for me, I guess.”

A week passed and by then, I joined the frat officially. Me and Nate started dating shortly after, but none of our bros minded. It didn’t matter if we were gay, we were still brothers. I also learned how Nate met Brett. He was taking a tour of the campus over the summer and he ran into Brett who was recruiting people for the frat. Brett took a liking to him and kinda took him under his wing like some sort of mentor and they started hanging out since he only lived a town away from us. Brett was our age, but he had more seniority and authority because his older brother Brad was very popular within the frat. Turns out Brett and some of the upperclassmen knew how to turn guys into the ideal bros for their frat. They wanted to bolster their numbers to make Sigma Lambda Chi the biggest and coolest frat in the state, with the biggest bros and the biggest parties, and naturally both me and Nate were chosen. Not that either of us minded. Nate joined the football team with Brett and some other guys in the frat, and the rest of us would go watch them play every game. Our section of the stadium was always the loudest and rowdiest, especially when one of our bros scored a touchdown.

Apparently I grew a ton during the night that I was with Nate, but I was too drunk to notice just how massive I had become. It must’ve been something in the beer, huhu. I started working out with Nate and Brett, and sometimes some other bros too. I even ended up changing my major. I chose business because my bros said that it was the easiest shit ever and I wasn’t feeling psychology anymore. I didn’t really feel like thinking much anymore and I found that focusing on education so much was a chore and that I was wasting my college experience. I’d rather be partying and drinking or hanging out with the bros at the frat house, watching sports, playing video games, or playing ball outside. I got to see why Nate grew to enjoy this lifestyle so much, and I was mad at myself for not seeing his point of view sooner.

Three years later, me and Nate are still dating and we’re set to graduate this semester. We’re thinking about getting a place in the city not too far from campus, probably with Brett and another friend of ours to save money on rent. We’ll probably still throw parties every weekend like we used to. College was such a memorable experience and I wish I could live it again. I only have Nate, Brett, and all my other bros to thank for making college awesome for me.

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kookyburrowing · 2 months

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Different Languages AU Part 1: Wait, Fuck, They Don't Speak Basic?

First things first motherfuckers, let’s get one thing straight: Basic as a language does exist in this AU! It’s just less common outside of the Core/Mid Rim. SO. What does that give us? Well, it gives us way more interesting conflict, for one thing, and for another, so many languages. Let’s get crackalackin!

In the Outer Rim, Huttese is largely The Language To Speak. If you don’t speak Huttese, you might as well just hurl yourself into the nearest bottomless pit now and save yourself the time and trouble. Even in the Core and Mid Rim, Huttese is a very common language just because of how useful it is if you ever find yourself in the Outer Rim. Most bounty hunters (i.e. Jango Fett, just for one completely random example) speak Huttese fluently, alongside their native languages. Naturally, then, this is a language Anakin is very familiar with. In fact, when he became a Jedi, it was the language he knew the best, and most people thought his speech was stilted in Basic because of this. He spoke Basic maybe once every month on Tatooine—can you blame him?

In the Mid Rim, each planet has their own language and conversations between diplomats are typically done as they are on Earth—via interpreters, to avoid any misunderstandings. Padmé, for instance, does speak Basic, but that is the language she would use in the Senate, not on Naboo. The same goes for Palpatine, but we’ll get to him in a minute, because he sucks and I want to not talk about him for as long as I feasibly can.

The Core means Basic, Basic, Basic, because of just the sheer number of people making it necessary. Coruscant is a weird case because of how communities develop there. Since it’s kind of like a gigantic version of a modern city (I’ll use NYC as an example because I know it the best), it’s broken up into enclaves. Cultures clump—it’s a thing. Some neighborhoods in NYC are predominantly Jewish, some are predominantly Italian, the list goes on. The same goes for Coruscant, although on a supersized scale. There’s some areas where non-Mandalorians need not apply, some where everyone is a Twi’lek or Togruta, some where everyone is a Mirialan, et cetera. Also, Coruscant dialects of certain languages are very much a thing.

Anyway. Let’s talk Kamino, because that’s why I started this to begin with!

Jango Fett is a Mandalorian. He’s also a bounty hunter. He’s from Concord Dawn and was a True Mandalorian. Therefore we can guess he probably at the bare minimum speaks two dialects of Mando’a (Concord Dawn, True Mandalorian) Huttese, and has at least passing Basic. He probably speaks more than that given how well-traveled he is, but those are the ones I can name for sure. So Jango Fett, who speaks Mando’a and Huttese and Basic, encounters Count Dooku. Count Dooku is from Serenno, but he was also a Jedi, so he probably speaks Serennese, Basic, Huttese, and a few more. He may even speak Mando’a, but his dialects wouldn’t be likely to overlap with Jango’s. Count Dooku tells Jango to go to Kamino and let them clone him in exchange for an exorbitant amount of money. Jango does, because Jango is a thinking human being and thinking human beings under capitalism do not turn down exorbitant amounts of money in exchange for what amounts to (at most) being a three or four-time sperm donor.

And on Kamino, our intrepid Mandalorian encounters something a bit weird. The Kaminoans, being that they are an extremely isolated species and thus have absolutely no reason to have developed humanoid vocal chords, have to rely on droid translators. Cool! This means Jango can speak to them exclusively in his native language (Concord Dawn Mando’a), and they can speka to him exclusively in theirs, and everyone’s largely happy. Jango negotiates the finer points of the contract, acquires an infant who he names Boba, and calls up some old friends (and acquaintances) to teach the clones to kick ass. He informs them they don’t have to worry about speaking Basic, so they don’t bother speaking Basic.

Thus, we have our setup. The Kaminoans have no reason to make the clones speak Basic because literally none of these outsiders are bothering to inform that oh yeah there’s this whole common language thing going on, and said outsiders have no reason whatsoever to tell them because it would ultimately just be an inconvenience. They’ve got a good thing going, and Jedi are required to speak more than one language anyway. The clones can definitely find at least one in common!

So the clones learn to speak Mando’a, understand Kaminoan, and speak and/or understand one extra elective language. Most pick something weird because they can—everyone around them speaks either Mando’a or Kaminoan so why would they bother with languages they don’t care about, like Basic? Unfortunately for the Kaminoans and the trainers in equal measure, they do also realize that in order to express themselves in private they need their own universal language, so they acquire one. They just call it clonespeak to keep things simple, and for most of them, that’s their native language. They feel most comfortable speaking in it because that’s the language they associate with safety and with their siblings/parents.

Thus: the predicament.

Obi-Wan arrives on Kamino. Obi-Wan is a Jedi. Obi-Wan speaks Basic.

Uh-oh. See, Jango is out of practice—the Kaminoans can’t make those noises. Boba’s language skills begin and end with Mando’a and some random bits of clonespeak right now—he’s kind of conversational with Huttese but every once in a while he just throws in a Mando’a word or an idiom in clonespeak and Jango has to take a minute to breathe lest he slam his head straight through the wall in frustration because he doesn’t understand clonespeak. And so much performing of charades, many awkward moments, and exactly one sentence in Basic later, Obi-Wan is heading back to Coruscant with several questions.

First: why the fuck did Sifo-Dyas order an army who didn’t speak Basic? No one knows. No one can find any records of this order, for one thing. No one knows who Tyrannus is, for another.

And second: what languages do the clones speak? Obviously, Mando’a is amongst them, but Jango’s extremely intensely staring son also spoke another, infinitely weird language and no one can find any record of it, and not even Jango seemed to understand him. Do they understand the Kaminoans’ clicking noises? Are they just mute? Is it constantly Shut The Fuck Up Friday up in there? What is going on?

The Council loses their collective minds. Shaak Ti is about ready to haul ass across the galaxy to collect these poor, lost young men—Plo Koon is right there with her. Yoda is—well, Yoda is swearing loudly in several dead languages right now. Mace Windu, ever the voice of reason, just has one thing to say: how about they meet the clones, first. Before they panic.

In the face of this intense, all-consuming, glorious sensibility, the Council collectively shuts the fuck up. They decide to let things run their course.

And then Geonosis. Quickly, Yoda collects several hundred clones, manages to communicate to one of them—who speaks a really weird, ancient, and fucked up dialect of Basic that could basically scan to Elizabethan English, and whose name is probably Kowalski—what he needs, and that one tells an older, larger and more intimidating one. Then that one yells a lot in a language Yoda has never heard before, and several hundred clones are suddenly hauling ass into gunships.

Enter one Anakin Skywalker and one Padmé Amidala, who are about to acquire some friends, none of whom understand a word they’re saying. They fuck some things up, get strapped to some poles to be devoured by Space Beasts of some sort, and then escape.

Battle of Geonosis happens. Mace Windu quickly discovers that the answer to the question what do the clones speak is effectively every language except Basic, and the answer is also supremely inconsistent. He is Suffering. He is Experiencing The Horrors. Obi-Wan is likewise fighting for his life because he speaks a fancy-ass dialect of Mando’a that the clones don’t understand. This is because they, like normal people, don’t talk like dignitaries on diplomatic missions.

Moving on! Obi-Wan gets assigned Alpha-17. Alpha-17 is a demon. Actually. He probably speaks Basic but refuses to out of spite. This is the biggest asshole to ever stomp his way into a Venator and terrify Anakin Skywalker into cowering submission. (He may even be why Anakin behaved like that as Vader. We will never know!) Like most clones, Alpha-17 speaks four languages. Clonespeak, Mando’a, Kaminoan, and Huttese. In that order. So he has no real trouble communicating with either Anakin or Obi-Wan.

What he does have, though, is a surplus of kids. Like it or not (he insists he doesn’t) they are his kids, and he wants them to have a shot at having a moderately tolerable existence. Enter everyone’s favorite group of six weirdos: Wolffe, Ponds, Fox, Bly, Cody, and Rex.

Wolffe is easy. He’s horrible with languages, and so gets sent to Plo Koon, who speaks through a translator anyway. Add Mando’a to the translator, and bang! Easy. Done. They understand each other perfectly.

Ponds is also easy. He, being sensible, learned Basic, so he goes to Mace Windu, who is equally sensible (and grateful for the easy transition).

Fox, who is a scheming little shit and also just so happens to speak Naboo, get sent to Coruscant. The Chancellor can’t get one over on him if Fox can understand every word he says, and most Senators have protocol droids with them for translation anyway.

Bly speaks Ryll, so she gets Aayla Secura. Again, easy.

Cody, on the other hand? Cody speaks the same languages as 17. Cody has a favorite younger brother who needs guidance. Cody, therefore, gets deposited with Obi-Wan, and Rex? Rex gets Anakin.

But the issue with Rex is he and Anakin have no language in common. Rex’s elective language was Togruti, and like the rest of his batch he also speaks Tusken sign. Because his batch are a bunch of assholes who wanted an extremely private way to talk.

So. Anakin and Rex start off the war with no way to communicate! None! Literally not one language in common!

And they do try to communicate—via charades, via text, et cetera—but they don’t really have access to translation software on a regular basis and thus things become complicated.

Things are made even more complicated by the fact that Rex, like Wolffe, is shit at language learning. Anakin, who isn’t, could try to learn clonespeak, and does! But when you can’t communicate with the person teaching you it is immensely slow going.

And thus, our premise is complete. How do you run a war with someone you can’t talk to?

Well, it depends. If you’re Anakin, you say, maybe I can figure a way around this.

If you’re Pong Krell?

I dunno man. Yell? Yeah, that sounds about right.

#hahaha #heeeeere's nonsense!#lee writes #different languages au #star wars #tcw #jango fett #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #alpha-17 #commander cody #captain rex

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elysiansparadise · 2 years

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Astro Observations X

🟫Something that I have notice with acquaintances that have a mutable Venus is that they are attracted or intrigued by people quite quickly, however it is very difficult for them to deepen those feelings, which usually fade rather quickly. Love for them is fascinating and complex at the same time, and it is common to see that some of them want to fall in love and experience love and at the same time that desire collides with themselves and their own ideals. "I want to be in love but at the same time not."

🟫I have noticed that those with Pisces Moons are incredibly magnetic and attractive, people are subconsciously drawn to them and many times the people around them perceive them as irresistible. Neptunian in nature, they can easily become the dream or fascination of anyone, they can also become very popular either for their beauty or some talent they have. People don't know much about them and that makes them even more attractive and interesting, there is something in them that makes you curious that you may not have felt for anyone else. It is worth mentioning that these natives, despite their politeness, stand out for their intelligence and strong intuition, which makes them difficult to impress or to "catch".

🟫Those with a Capricorn Mars have a tendency to suppress their anger and many of them are forced into this by "being professionals". This is because being a Mars ruled by Saturn, the planet of limitations and work, prevents them from expressing that explosive nature that is natural on Mars. This placement of Mars can also cause differences with authority figures such as fathers or bosses.

🟫The planets or houses in which the sign of Aries is (or even if we have planets in degrees of Aries) tell us about the areas of our life in which we put more energy, focus and passion. For example, people with Aries in the 5th house put their energy in their hobbies and care a lot about expressing themselves authentically. Aries in the 7th house puts a lot of effort and focus in their relationships, in making them comfortable and open. Aries in the 10th house puts effort in their image, profession and work, at the same time when it comes to achieving their goals.

🟫Having Mercury well positioned by house (either in the 3rd house or the 6th house) together with a stellium in Water sign (Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces) or house (4th, 8th, 12th) makes a person have a beautiful way of writing. Mercury in any of the two previously mentioned houses stands out for their ease with words and for their way of writing and communicating the idea that crosses their mind with grace and charm, while the Water touch sweetens the verses and gives them an incredible capacity to convey your message almost immediately. They are people who easily reach the hearts of people and know how to provoke millions of emotions with just one piece of writing.

🟫Many people highlight the intensity with which those who have a Scorpio Venus love, have you ever been loved by a Leo Venus? These natives can match or exceed the intensity of Scorpio Venus. These people always have you in their mind and give you a lot of importance in their lives, if someone harms you, they are dead. They are very protective people, they can be somewhat jealous and they are extremely devoted. They seem to have indifferent shades, because the truth is that it is difficult for them to fall in love with someone, but once they fall in love they totally lose their minds, they give everything and you become the most important person in their life. This happens not only because of the intense, passionate and iconic nature of Leo, but also because this Venus is ruled by the Sun, which gives strength to that way of loving, a lot of vitality. Love for these natives is a source of joy and vitamin, they see love as that cure for that bad or heavy day.

🟫Since we mentioned Scorpio Venus, let's talk a little more about them. These natives are often singled out for their "extremist" nature in the eyes of many, when in reality the only thing they ask for is two things, a deep and sincere connection, and of course a lot of loyalty. Of course they like to be shown interest, they like to see that their partner feels a lot for them and that they are lost in them, but they dislike those who are too absorbent, who do not give them their space and who try to control them, because they love to spend some time for themselves. They are fascinated by having a lover who loves them totally, especially those times when they find it difficult to love themselves, because they will love you also in those circumstances, but they also need an independent partner, who shows them that they know how to do and achieve what they want. Independence and emotional depth call their attention, a person who seems not to depend on them, or on anyone.

🟫Many with the Ruler of the 12th in the 9th or vice versa tend to get a lot of benefit from spending time alone, many of them feel as if they are recharging or regenerating in some way, especially if they have been in social situations constantly. Many of them see solitude as a way to grow and introspect, which they usually enjoy. This placement also indicates that the trips that the person undertakes can bring them a lot of inner peace and profound change, especially if the Ruler is well aspected or is Venus or Jupiter. Not to mention this is a placement common in people that travel to foreign lands or that make long distance trips.

🟫Those who have Moon-Venus tense aspects are people who find it difficult to accept affection or who feel that they do not know how to react to it. Many of them may not be very used to being shown a lot of affection, this they could feel especially from their childhood where it is likely that they felt that they were not enough or did not receive much affection, especially from their mother or female figures. Another scenario that is possible for them is that many demands or standards were placed on them from a very young age, that people asked them more and more of themselves.

🟫Mars in the 3rd house is more than the stereotypes of a person who yells a lot. Those with Mars in the 3rd are people who infect you with emotion when they talk about something they are passionate about, they are people who do not hesitate to express their opinions directly and clearly so that people are able to understand them. These people transmit strength and power with the way they speak, they make you feel motivated and enthusiastic about the topics they are passionate about. They are that kind of people incapable of hiding when they like something, because it is simply sublime to see how their face lights up when they hear them talk about how much they enjoy a certain topic.

🟫Neptune in the 12th house is a placement as beautiful as it is complex. It gives the natives an ability to heal and charm others with ease, even without realizing it, as well as being endowed with powerful intuition and hidden talents. However, many of them may have been in a somewhat tense environment that made them prone to being aware of the people around them, often being able to sense the intentions of others. This in some cases leads them to see enemies where there are none or to think that people criticize them behind their backs or they are simply bad. Many times they have a struggle between trusting their intuition or not.

🟫Those with Moon in the 2nd or Venus in the 2nd are great gift givers, as they stand out for being very detailed and attentive to those around them. Have you ever mentioned to them that you like certain chocolates? They will buy them from you. They love to make gifts that are not only useful, but also meaningful, and many of them may enjoy adding letters or notes to them. They may even think ahead about what they are going to give you and may be too excited to see you open and enjoy your gifts.

🟫People with 05°, 07°, 17°, 19°, 29° in the angles are incredibly charismatic people who are easily liked by others. These people are intelligent enough to function in any environment and amaze many not only for their beauty, but also for their authenticity, witticisms and sense of humor, which easily adapts to that of other people. Many of them catch other people's eyes without paying much attention to their own appearance. People will always think that they have a very high self-esteem and that there is nothing and no one that can bring it down, even if the natives know that this is not always the case, because they always set high standards for themselves and are somewhat harsh when they make a mistake.

🟫Many people underestimate the charm of people with Jupiter in the 8th house, these natives throughout their lives will attract the attention of many even if they do not want it. They are people who have a naturally mysterious and magnetic aura, as well as an attractiveness and appeal that freezes and amazes everyone instantly. I have noticed that if Jupiter it's in an earth sign (Taurus, Virgo or Capricorn) this becomes more prominent as time goes on. These natives intimidate and fascinate people because their gaze seems to be able to analyze every corner of their soul, a penetrating and hypnotizing gaze that remains impregnated in your mind for a long time.

🟫Those with Cancer Mars don't necessarily cry when upset [although this is generally attributed to those with Mars in a water sign], these people keep everything you make them feel to teach you a lesson later. As this is a Mars ruled by the Moon, these natives keep verbally hidden what you made them feel, but if you keep picking on them, they will decide to hit you where it hurts you the most, where you are most vulnerable. They are not very direct or violent and some can even be somewhat passive aggressive. Taking into account that they are ruled by the Moon, they will be upset if you make them feel vulnerable or hypersensitive, if you do not value and make fun of their emotions, if you do not respect their needs or if you tell them that they worry to much for stupid matters. Never make them feel that their concerns and issues are less. This fact also applies with them not being able to forgive or forget easily.

#astrology notes #astrology observations #astro notes #astrology #astro observations #natal chart #aries #cancer mars #capricorn mars #leo venus #scorpio venus #jupiter in 8th house #neptune in the 12th #venus in the 2nd house #moon in the 2nd house

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circeyoru · 6 months

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Unwanted Soul _ Part 9 = Requested

[Yandere!Alastor x Owner of his Soul!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 2.5 (ask) — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9 (here)

The days when you worked for Lucifer were dull and boring, you saw nothing to gain even though you’re the one doing all the information searching and collecting. You went belong Lucifer’s expectation when you said you’ll infiltrate and plant yourself close to the source so that the information collected was reliable

Lucifer told you directly that he expected for you to just listen and gather what rumors were around and tell him, or what information was available then you report to Lucifer in a neat pile. Never did he think you’ll go above and beyond, considering your mood and status of wanting to get yourself a second death

Well, you didn’t really mind it all. Back when you were writing your novel, you had a ton of characters, each with different backgrounds and personality. You tried just researching online to get the information, but there wasn’t that feeling when you were writing them. You needed to get the feel of it. So you actually tried out part-time jobs from all over the place to get it

Turns out it worked since even a copy of the novel got such fame and wealth…

Now, you realized you didn’t need to create something for you to know what you have. With your new power, you seem to have something akin to photographic memory to the point you’ll be able to keep what you see and know like a compute file system. Very convenient and steal-proof

Your main target happened to be Vox, the TV Demon and an Overlord that is acquainted and in alliance with another two Overlords Velvette and Valentino. Lucifer requires newer information of the modern Overlords, so you went to the V Tower to sneak within their ranks

That was before your charm abilities from your pages developed to what you have today, so Lucifer gave you an entirely new look and some common powers so you didn’t make an impression on Vox or the other two Overlords

It was through Vox that you learned of Alastor as well. While you never saw him, you heard plenty from Vox to know they weren’t overly fond of the other. Alastor seem to tolerate Vox and didn’t even see Vox as a treat since it was all so childish from on outlooker’s perspective

But what you learned from within was even worse. Vox was controlling, very controlling. He not only hypnotizes the customer and reporters to boost his fame and gain loyalty, he treats his employee the same and than some. His people were treated as slaves, dehumanized, and worse than animals. All for Vox’s entertainment

“Don’t.” You firmly declined, “Let’s just get on with it.”

“Wow, you’re really into all that redemption thing? Goody-two-shoes huh.” Vox smirked condescending, “Can I get your name or?”

You glared, feeling the shadows riled up by the second, you back up away from Vox. “No. This is strictly business. I hope we don’t see each other after this.”

“Hot and feisty. I like that in a demon. Let’s see how you’re at persuasion.” He turned to the lift and gestures for you to follow him. “Well, come on then, representative.”

Throughout the entire time Vox was bringing you to the ‘meeting room’, he had been so annoying with his small talk. There were a few times he tried hypnotizing you already but you acted like nothing happened, it was fun to see him try

You declined any drinks and food he offered, he set them on the coffee table between the two couches you two were sitting on. This setting was quite perfect for him to try a more direct hypnotizes, even if you were to accuse him of so, he can say it was a glitch in the system or it’s just his screen acting up

Everything was set to give himself the advantage he needs and wants

As expected the only thing he had against the hotel and Charlie was the fact that his merchandise were all destroyed without his knowledge. Though he even come clean as to why he would be aware of they were gone or not, he lied and said it was to ensure his services were top-notch and that he could send his employees to repair or replace them with new ones

Why he was doing this was to show his appreciation to the epic battle Charlie and the hotel put up. To defend all of Hell and the other sinners even when no one asked, to give everyone hope that there was good in this hellhole. It moved Vox’s metallic heart beyond words

Such flattery. You know information that Vox tried to watch the battle, you panicked when you wonder if Vox saw your powers when you defended and saved Alastor. It doesn’t seem like he knows by the annoyance and degree he went to ensure the hotel was under surveillance. He’s finding that one demon that interrupted his show. He’s looking for you

To compensate, the hotel is to either send someone to work for Vox, of course without a soul contract but a business deal only, or give them Angel. What it means was that Angel was to stay at the V Tower for as long as it take for him to individually produce all the cost of the materials used to make the devices Vox installed in the hotel

It was basically a contract that would ensure that Angel doesn’t get redeemed, stays under the Vees’ or rather Valentino’s hold, and continues to bring profit or even more to the three Overlords. You heard that Angel’s boss was Valentino, you also heard about the little stunt Angel did to his boss outside of the studio. Valentino sworn revenge. This was it

When you weren’t agreeing immediately, you were in for a shock when Valentino and Angel appeared through the doors. They took a seat in the couch between yours and Vox’s, Angel forcefully gapped between Vox and Valentino so that if anything happened, they’d have a hostage. Because unlike them, the hotel and its people are oh so very kind

“Angel here volunteers to work on top of our contract on this little mishap.” Valentino grinned, playing with his pipe as he released a puff of red smoke. “Angel came all on his own too.”

“Then why isn’t he speaking on his own?” You challenged, it’d take a blind person to ignore the nervousness and uneasiness Angel was displaying. From what you observed, Angel truly likes it at the hotel. He wouldn’t willingly leave it and everyone. “Why are you speaking in his place?”

Vox raised a hand, answering as if it was all rehearsed. “Val is Angel’s boss, so it only makes sense he speaks on Angel’s behalf on something so important.”

Your eyes narrowed, “You got it backwards. On matters as important as this, the one directly involved should be the one talking.” You glared at Valentino, “Not to be spoken on behalf by.”

Vox laughed, “You forget. You’re at our mercy now, we don’t need to care for your wants.” He got up and strolled over to you, “You know, you’re quite talented. We could use someone like you here. If you agree to take Angel’s place, then Angel can go free from this deal. I’m sure with your talent, you can make up that number in no time.”

“That wasn’t what you offered.” You hissed, you could feel Alastor growing rage as well.

“Oh, need more incentive?” Vox smirked.

The moment he said that, the doors opened and revealed Velvette though it was what was dragged behind that caught you off guard. Husk, all beaten up and bantered, was being pulled into the room by some hellhounds that was in servitude to Velvette, or maybe the Vees.

Velvette gave a cunning grin, “You called?”

This was obviously a bad situation. Two hostages and three Overlords, one of them were in the worse pairing possible as well. This was all a trap

There was a high possibility that Angel didn’t want to answer Valentino’s calls and was dragged to the V Tower where he’s be powerless. Husk most possibly saw what happened and tried to stop it since you were going to the same place later on

In the end, two were caught and used as leverage to convince you into servitude of Vox. Maybe you shouldn’t have came, but you didn’t want them to get hypnotized again and this was their domain so Vox holds more power here

You’ll admit, you’re cornered. Do you call for Alastor? But Alastor couldn’t care less about Angel or Husk went you were on the line. He’d even agree with the deal Vox offered just because you would be out of harm’s way. You just know Alastor will do that. While he cares for your decision, but when it was your time away from him on the line, he’ll do anything to keep you within his hold

In that case, you’re left with one option

“You want compensation for your broken devices, yeah, I can handle it. But I will not be working here.” You spoke firmly, “The hotel has a 16 floors, each floor has around 10 rooms, each room has a VoxTech TV and a pair of speakers that were installed, in total that’s 160 TVs and 320 speakers. The lobby has a large screen made of 6 TVs and 8 pairs of speakers to provide high quality sound transperance, the top floor has a cinema that is made with 10 TVs and 10 pairs of speakers aligning the walls.”

As you were listing, everyone was surprised with how well you knew everything. Especially Angel and Husk since you were rarely out of your room or around. How you knew all this was a mystery to them.

“So in total, you require the compensation of 176 TVs and 356 speakers. I can provide all of them back to you in the newest condition, but I will not be working here.” You concluded.

“Wow, crazy math, but how can we be sure you can give us high quality goods?” Vox questioned, “We can’t trust that you’ll leave us high and dry after we agree. You can even give us cheap knockouts like some copycat off the streets.”

You opened your hand, “Give me something, anything.”

The Vees all looked at each other, then Valentino passed a gun of his to you. They eyed you suspicously while you plainly inspected the object, Angel and Husk watched in confusion of what you were doing

You ignored all the stared. This was your last result. You’ll show them your power and ability with a page, they wouldn’t know how you did it and they wouldn’t be able to control you since you have Alastor’s protection and you could always put Lucifer on the table. They wouldn’t dare touch a servant of the King of Hell

Your fingers brushed through the curves and texture, feeling where the edges were and how they felt. Then you began taking it apart. Vox kept Valentino in place when you began, Vox keeping an extra close eye on what you were doing. You laid out the parts in front of you, then you inspected each part like how you did to the gun as a whole

When you were done, you reassembled it all. You quickly aimed a shot into the wall behind you so they wouldn’t say you attempted assassination to add compensation. You got the gist of what was used to make it and how it was made. You remember the parts and you remember how to assemble and take it apart. The conditions are set. You can do it

You moved away your oversized coat and took out your book, writing the words ‘Valentino’s gun’ on the page before tearing it out and blew on it. Then in your hand appeared the exact same. You gave to Valentino to inspect them

He was surprised his gun was replicated to perfection. He didn’t mean to say it since he was shocked and covered his mouth

That’s all you need to hear. You took Angel and Husk to your side, telling Vox, without giving him the room to deject your offer. You will reproduce those TVs and speakers, Vox just need to wait patiently and you can have it done within a few days. Someone will come delivery them. End of story

“It’s you! Hahahaha! So it’s you all along!” Vox laughed, falling back down into the couch, “You win this! So you’re not bad at persuasion too.” He grinned, “Now I really like you.”

“Well, I still don’t like you.” You snarled.

“Playing hard to get, huh.” He waved his hand, “Sure, I’ll wait and see. If it’s not delivered in time, I’ll expect you to work for me.”

As quickly as you came to the bright studio that blinds your eyes, you left with Angel and Husk hand in hand just in case they tried something. The moment you were out of the building, Alastor reappeared and hugged the living daylights out of you, you returned the hug, melting into his hold

It was such a scary experience, but you know you got through it because Alastor was watching and listening all that time to support you

Alastor sent Husk and Angel back through the shadows to retell the message of a smooth negotiation and nothing else. They were to have the cover story of meeting you and Alastor on the way back and to pass the message along while the two of you enjoyed a stroll for the hardwork. Needless to say they agreed easily to that plan

You walked with Alastor arm in arm, leaning against him for a more physical support. You closed your eyes to rest a bit since it was way too bright in the studio and you trust Alastor enough to lead you on the right and safe path

Being the radio host he is, he talked and talked about anything and everything he could to fill the silence and give you the perfect voice to listen to. At the sight of Alastor, a number of demons left the area and stayed clear of him

Everything was very peaceful, just you and him strolling down the streets. It reminded the two of you during those days when you both were in your home area. You’d sometimes want to just stretch your legs and walk around. Alastor would accompany you to keep you safe

In the beginning, it was just you and your music while Alastor was busy with whatever bloody methods to keep the demons’ eyes off of you. Then you and Alastor made small talk so Alastor’s attention wasn’t on destroying some poor demon that was minding their own business. Turns out, that was one of moments that got you to see another side of Alastor

You smiled as you hugged onto Alastor’s arm, you felt Alastor’s miniature jerk before he relaxed again. You really wanted to tickle him, but you’ll save it for when you two are back behind closed doors to have more fun

“You! You in the giant stupid coat! Stop!” A voice shouted behind you and Alastor.

Alastor looked down to you, you nodded as you opened your eyes again. Alastor turned around, shielding you from the unknown demon’s sight. “What is it that you need from us?”

“I’m not talking to you, f**ker!” The demon exclaimed at Alastor, “Move aside or else.”

“Else?” Alastor’s head tilted to the side with his smile growing to a threatening grin, “Quite bold of you to assume you have a chance here.”

You peeked from behind Alastor, this demon was unfamiliar to you, not someone you messed with nor did you gather information on them for anything in discriminating. You wonder if you should let Alastor have at her since you already dealt with Vox today. But something bugged you with how desperate she was acting, very familiar. So you stepped out, “What is it?”

Her eyes seemingly light up and came over to you, gripping onto your shoulders tightly with that crazed look in her eyes. “You’re the one he wants. It was never me. Whatever he wants with you has nothing to do with me. It was all a lie. The contract, the flattery, the money, everything!”

“Huh?” You glanced over to Alastor with confusion, Alastor didn’t return the sentiment as he looked ready to rip the demon apart. “Uh, what do you mean?”

“I saw your powers over the pages, you’re the one he wants! I don’t know how we have similar powers, but yours is much more superior. Trade places with me, I’m begging! I can’t work for Vox!”

You backed up and slapped away her hands, retreating back to Alastor’s side. “Similar powers?”

You wondered if it was her, that friend of yours. You watched she continued to rant on about the benefits of working for Vox like she prepared to pitch it to a customer. This desperate plead was like her asking (demanding) that you continue writing that novel she stole so she can go publish it in her name

Do it in the name of friendship, she said. It started small, she asked for some tips to writing, it moved to asking for character reference sheets, then ideas on a sequel, last was your help to write the entire thing

She knew you have written it beforehand, she was aiming for that in the beginning. Again, she stole it while you were distracted with setting up a sleepover for her. You remember that empty look you had when you saw the barely closed front door, the pillow you were hugging fell from your grasp

The next week or so, the sequel to her (your) novel was out. Millions and billions of people flooded the bookshops, mass sell out signs for that book was taped to the display for the novel. She came back and praised you for a job well done, you hanged out with you and shared so much with you

All that time, you smiled and enjoyed the peace. Anything to help a friend, you innocently spoke. After all, she was there for you when you broke up with your boyfriend. She was your closest friend, things like these happen. See? She’s back at your side

She appeared on TV, she appeared on podcast, she appeared in interviews, she appeared in best selling author signing sessions, she appeared as a professor to teach young aspiring writers. She was everywhere. That was because the novel was everywhere, it was adatped into movies, TV shows, cartoon series, it has audiobooks and was references in a number of places

People loved your work. You were content with that. It was fine. As long as your friend is by your side. You can take it all. Yet you can’t help it when tears flow down your face in the dead of night. You hugged your pillow so tightly

It was all supposed to be yours, yet it wasn’t… You gave it all up to someone that’s not worthy of it

“See?” She threw a bunch of papers into the air from her side bag, with a snap of her fingers, the pages turned into paper daggers and flew around her at command. “If you can summon things, then you’re a such better fit! Please, come back with me to the V Tower and take my place.”

“Shut up.” You spoke, your hands unconsciously gripped onto Alastor’s wrist tightly that it could have snapped. Reacting to your obvious hatred, Alastor snapped his fingers and fires burn down the pages that she was so proud of. “Ha, I can’t believe you haven’t changed.”

She raised a brow, “What?”

You sighed, “Karolina, so you died, huh. Did you have a good life? Must be good as the famous author, right?”

Kat’s eyes widened, now it was her turn to back up, “No way… You can’t be serious…”

“Dearest, do you know her?” Alastor inquired with a cute head tilt, his ears moving along.

“Yeah, I know her.” You smiled, you know what will happen after your words because you know Alastor, “Meet Karoline, my former best friend while I was alive, but most importantly… The one that stole my precious writing.”

Note: Another one~ There's one more part to this and the involvement of Kat arc is done. I think I might end this series after that. The unanswered questions could be counted as trivia or extra mini moments. Cause I feel like this series is getting a bit too long. What do you guys think?

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @nevermore-ramblings @justboredforreal @youroneandonlysimp @falsemain @scenteddelusion5 @anni1600 @readergirlstuff @salutations-demonsanddappers @mistpurpl3 @haruskrd @biadoll21 @speedycoffeedelight @wendds @paninibit @emperatris-rinaka @lucifers-silhouette @an-idyllic-novelist @cyannese-rose @type-ink

#Circe's Nighty Writings #Circe's requested writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #Unwanted Soul

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boonsmoon · 9 months

Note

Would you do a Mu Qing from TCGF fluff request Xie Lian (and by extension San Lang) attempt to play matchmaker between Mu Qing and his god/dess crush (cause Mu Qing refuses to admit liking them despite them being the person he’s closest to since meeting each other)?

I fell in love with this idea instantly A Christmas special for the lovelies Btw for creativity purposes, you can be the goddess of literally whatever

Request Masterlist Mu Qing x f!reader Genres:🎉🌸💞🧪

Kiss of Winter

To the untrained eye you would seem like a subordinate or nuisance to the cold-hearted god; however, this couldn't be further from the truth. You would considered yourself a close friend to Mu Qing, you have known each other for hundreds of years after all.

Though when asked, Mu Qing would refer to you as "a valuable acquaintance," and boy did it hurt to say this. Luckily, there was a very observant god who decided he had watched you two dance around each other long enough.

The holidays were approaching and Xie Lian thought this would be a great time to force persuade both of you to be in each other's company more often. So, with some hard thought planning and input from San Lang, the boys decided on a special celebration for the gods.

Now considering all these higher beings actually have standards, lots of works will have to be put into this. And who better to ask than someone that'll be excited to attend?

"I can't think of anyone more fitting for this job than you," Xie Lian praised, hoping to get you on the project. Everything has to be perfect if he's gonna get you and Mu Qing together.

You hesitated for a moment, "I've been getting many more prayers recently, though I suppose those can be put on hold..." There was a look of pondering on your face, weighing the pros and cons of what this could do to your status among deities and humans.

"Don't you have subordinates? If anything important happens they'll surely yap to you about it," you tensed at San Lang's words. Subordinates yes, deserving of disrespect no.

Unfortunately though, you must admit he was right. Your subordinates were always more alert than you, even when it came to your own temples. You sighed, "fine, I will help you prepare for this celebration."

After tireless days? Weeks? Of work, you all finally finished the super secret super awesome holiday party. Now you may be wondering would Mu Qing even come to the celebration? The answer is yes, but only if you invite him.

And let's be honest, most of the Heaven Official's don't like Xie Lian and San Lang very much, so making you the messenger was common sense from the beginning. So after running around and inviting everyone you saw, it finally came to the one and only.

"It is a holiday that comes each year, what makes this one special?" So far, so bad, he doesn't seem very keen on attending your greatest achievement yet.

"Becauseee we put effort into enjoying it this year. It'll be fun, I promise!" You pleaded with Mu Qing, hoping he'd say yes. "I worked on it the most anyways, so you don't have to worry about Xie Lian's 'bad taste.'"

He crossed his arms, contemplating if that was really a good enough reason to attend. "And when did I say you have good taste? It is likely just as bad considering you dare interact with him." OW OKAY THEN.

You folded your hands and begged, "if it's not I swear to never invite you again! Just please come this once..." This is what convinced him, the pain that in the future deities will get to enjoy your hard-work and he'll be left out. No one could ever appreciate your efforts like he can.

"Fine! I will agree this once..." That was a lie, he will make sure to agree in the future, even if it means forcing himself to attend a celebration that involved Xie Lian and San Lang.

The day of the celebration was fantastic, several deities appeared, many complimenting you on your efforts. You most oversaw everything that was happening, what you didn't see; however, was Xie Lian spying on you and Mu Qing while talking.

He took this as his chance to put the real plan into action. After getting a signal from San Lang that the mistletoe was hanging up a few feet from you two, Xie Lian basically sprinted into the both of you, pushing you under the plant.

Mu Qing turned around, visibly angry at Xie Lian, "would it hurt to watch where you move?!" This caused Xie Lian to put his hands up in defeat and shuffle away.

While rubbing your head to try and soothe the pain, you noticed something bright above you. Realizing it was mistletoe your face got darker. This caused Mu Qing to seem slightly concerned, questioning what was the problem. You only pointed up, and when he took notice his face also darkened.

"We can simply move and ignore this tradition, it's not that important anyways-" He was interrupted by you however, "rules are rules, Mu Qing, we can't ignore them. Plus, I kinda like this tradition."

He tried to get over the initial embarrassment and decided it would be easier to dive into the kiss. What would've been a fleeting moment to others felt like an eternity to you both.

Pulling away you could both tell by the look in each other's eyes that the feeling was mutual. And hidden somewhere else was a very proud and excited Xie Lian.

this was a very beefy fic

not that i'm complaining i liked it

anyways, happy holidays everyone! may all be well for the new year

#tian guan ci fu #tgcf #heaven official's blessing #tgcf x reader #tian guan ci fu x reader #heaven official's blessing x reader #mu qing x reader #mu qing

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estapa-edwards · 5 months

Text

RIVALS - J. HUGHES

paring: jack hughes x reader

word count: 2.3k

requested? yes - jack falling in love with his rival player from the rangers and the media and everyone alwyss comparing the two and they like to tease each other back and fourth and people think they are enemies but really they have been friends since they both moved away from their families to jersey and york, they ended up living in the same building and became good friends despite the rivalry, they just love to tease each other on the ice and making everyone speculate, something important goes on and jack brings her as his plus one and he is like she’s been my gf for years didn’t you know?

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

As I lace up my skates in the familiar locker room of Madison Square Garden, I can feel the buzz of anticipation coursing through me. Tonight, like every other night when we face off against the New Jersey Devils, the media will paint our matchup as an epic clash between bitter rivals. They'll hype up the drama, the tension, the supposed animosity between me, Y/N, of the New York Rangers, and Jack Hughes of the Devils. But what they don't know is that behind the scenes, Jack and I are actually good friends.

It's funny how things work out sometimes. We met shortly after we both moved away from home to pursue our hockey dreams. Fate seemed to have a sense of humor when it placed us in the same apartment building. At first, we were just acquaintances, nodding at each other in the elevator or exchanging small talk in the lobby. But as time went on, our friendship blossomed.

Jack is one of those people who's impossible not to like. He's got this infectious energy, always cracking jokes and keeping everyone around him in high spirits. And despite being fierce competitors on the ice, off the rink, he's one of the most genuine and down-to-earth guys I've ever met.

From the moment we stepped onto the ice as rookies, Jack and I knew that we were destined to be compared and contrasted by the media. They loved to pit us against each other, to scrutinize every goal, every assist, every move we made on the ice. And as much as we tried to brush it off, it was hard not to feel the weight of those expectations.

But amidst the chaos of the rivalry, Jack and I found something unexpected: a genuine friendship. It started with small gestures – a friendly nod during warm-ups, a quick word of encouragement after a tough game – but it quickly grew into something deeper. We discovered that we had a lot in common, both on and off the ice, and that despite wearing different jerseys, we shared a mutual respect and admiration for each other's talents.

As our friendship blossomed, we found ourselves gravitating towards each other more and more, seeking refuge from the pressures of the rivalry in each other's company. We'd sneak away from the prying eyes of the media and our respective teams' management to grab lunch together or hang out at one of our apartments, swapping stories and jokes like old friends.

Of course, we knew that our friendship had to remain a secret. Our PR managers made sure of that, reminding us constantly that we were supposed to be bitter rivals, not bosom buddies. But in a strange way, the secrecy only made our bond stronger. It was like we were in on this big, inside joke together, sharing a secret that no one else knew.

And so, we became experts at playing our parts. We'd exchange playful jabs during interviews, making sure to throw in a few subtle digs to keep up the facade of animosity. We'd celebrate our victories against each other on the ice with exaggerated displays of triumph, all the while exchanging knowing looks behind the scenes.

---

As rookies, stepping onto the ice for the first time felt like stepping into a pressure cooker. The weight of expectations hung heavy in the air, fueled by the constant comparisons and contrasts the media loved to draw between Jack and me.

"Hey, Y/N," Jack called out as we lined up for warm-ups before our first game against each other. His voice cut through the tension, and I turned to see him flashing a grin. "You ready to show the world what we're made of?"

I couldn't help but chuckle at his infectious enthusiasm. "You bet, Jack. Just don't expect me to go easy on you out there."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replied with a playful wink.

And so it began – a friendly rivalry that would soon evolve into something much deeper. As the games went by, Jack and I found ourselves drawn to each other, seeking solace from the relentless scrutiny of the media in the comfort of each other's company.

"Rough game out there, huh?" Jack said one night, catching me in the hallway outside the locker rooms after a particularly grueling match.

I nodded, grateful for the chance to decompress with someone who understood the pressures we faced. "Yeah, tell me about it. I swear, they're never gonna let us live this one down."

Jack chuckled, clapping me on the back in a show of solidarity. "Well, at least we can commiserate together, right?"

And so our friendship blossomed, forged in the fires of competition and camaraderie. We'd steal moments away from the prying eyes of the media, grabbing lunch together or hanging out at one of our apartments, swapping stories and jokes like old friends.

"Man, I can't believe we have to keep this friendship a secret," I grumbled one day as we lounged on Jack's couch, watching highlights from our latest game.

Jack shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Eh, adds to the intrigue, don't you think? Besides, it's kinda fun having our little secret."

I had to admit, there was something exhilarating about sneaking around like a couple of teenagers with a forbidden romance. It made our bond feel even more special, like we were part of some exclusive club that no one else could join.

Of course, playing our parts as bitter rivals wasn't always easy. We'd exchange playful jabs during interviews, throwing in a few subtle digs to keep up the facade of animosity.

"Y/N, what do you have to say to Jack Hughes, who claims he's going to outshine you on the ice tonight?" a reporter asked during a post-game press conference.

I shot Jack a knowing smirk before turning back to the camera with a smirk of my own. "Tell him he can try, but he's gonna have to get past me first."

Jack laughed from his seat beside me, the tension in the room dissipating as we shared a private joke

As much as we excelled at maintaining the illusion of rivalry in public, it was behind closed doors where our friendship truly flourished. Away from the prying eyes of the media and the expectations of our teams, Jack and I could be ourselves without reservation. We'd spend hours talking about everything and nothing, sharing our hopes and fears, our triumphs and struggles.

There was a comfort in knowing that we could let our guard down around each other, free from the pressures of being seen as rivals. In those moments, it was easy to forget about the intensity of the rivalry and just enjoy each other's company. Whether we were binge-watching our favorite TV shows, cooking dinner together, or simply lounging around, every moment spent with Jack felt like a welcome reprieve from the chaos of our professional lives.

And yet, even as we reveled in our friendship, there was always an underlying tension – the knowledge that our bond had to remain a secret. It was a constant balancing act, navigating the delicate line between friendship and rivalry, always mindful of the consequences if our true relationship were to be revealed.

But despite the risks, our friendship only grew stronger with each passing day. We became each other's confidants, sharing our deepest thoughts and feelings with a level of trust and understanding that went beyond words. And as much as we cherished our time together off the ice, there was something uniquely special about the moments we shared on it.

On game days, when the arena was buzzing with excitement and anticipation, Jack and I would find ourselves locked in a silent battle of wills. We'd exchange knowing glances across the ice, each one a silent reminder of the bond we shared. And when the puck dropped and the game was underway, it was like we were playing our own private game within the game – a subtle dance of friendship disguised as rivalry.

But no matter how convincing our performance was for the outside world, there were moments when our true feelings would slip through the cracks. A shared smile after a particularly well-executed play, a quick pat on the back after a hard-fought battle – these were the moments when our friendship shone brightest, illuminating the darkness of the rivalry that surrounded us.

The locker room is quiet, the only sound the faint echo of distant celebrations filtering through the walls. I sit alone on the bench, still basking in the afterglow of our victory over the Devils. It had been a hard-fought battle, but in the end, we'd come out on top, securing another win for the Rangers.

I'm lost in my thoughts when I hear the door creak open, and I glance up to see Jack standing in the doorway, a hesitant smile playing at the corners of his lips. Everyone else has already left, leaving us alone in the quiet solitude of the locker room.

"Hey," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Hey," I reply, returning his smile. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be with your team."

Jack shrugs, taking a few cautious steps into the room. "I needed to talk to you."

My curiosity piqued, I gesture for him to take a seat beside me on the bench. "What's on your mind?"

He hesitates for a moment, his gaze flickering uncertainly as if searching for the right words. And then, in one swift motion, he crosses the distance between us and takes my face in his hands, leaning in to press his lips against mine.

For a moment, time seems to stand still as the world falls away around us. I'm too stunned to react, too overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotions coursing through me. But as his kiss deepens, I find myself melting into his embrace, the weight of our shared secret finally lifting from my shoulders.

When we finally pull apart, our breaths coming in ragged gasps, I meet Jack's gaze with a mixture of surprise and longing. "I didn't know you felt that way," I whisper, my voice barely audible above the pounding of my heart.

Jack smiles, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "I've been trying to tell you for months," he admits, his thumb tracing gentle circles against my cheek. "But I never had the courage until now."

I reach out to take his hand in mine, lacing our fingers together with a sense of newfound clarity. "I'm glad you did," I say softly, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Because I feel the same way."

As the seasons passed, Jack and I found ourselves navigating the complexities of our newfound relationship with a sense of cautious optimism. We were no longer just friends who shared a secret bond; we were now a couple, bound together by love and mutual respect.

But as much as we reveled in our newfound happiness, we couldn't escape the ever-present shadow of the rivalry that loomed over us. Our teams, our fans, and the media all seemed determined to keep us apart, to maintain the facade of animosity that had defined our relationship for so long.

We knew that our relationship had to remain a secret, at least for the time being. Our PR managers had made that abundantly clear, reminding us constantly of the consequences if our true feelings were ever to be revealed. And so, we continued to play our parts, keeping our love hidden behind a carefully constructed facade of rivalry and competition.

But as the years passed and our relationship continued to flourish, it became increasingly difficult to keep our secret under wraps. We longed to share our love with the world, to finally break free from the constraints of the rivalry that had kept us apart for so long.

And then, one day, an opportunity presented itself that we couldn't ignore. Jack had been invited to a prestigious event, a gathering of the league's top players and executives, and he had been given the chance to bring a guest as his plus one.

As we stood outside the doors of the grand ballroom, Jack turned to me with a mischievous grin. "Are you ready for this?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

I nodded, my heart pounding in anticipation. "I'm ready," I replied, squeezing his hand tightly in mine.

And with that, we stepped inside, hand in hand, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. As we made our way through the crowd, heads turned and whispers followed in our wake. But Jack didn't seem to notice, too caught up in the moment to care about the opinions of others.

And then, when we reached the center of the room, Jack turned to me with a smile that lit up his entire face. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, his voice ringing out clear and confident. "I'd like you to meet someone very special to me. This is Y/N, and she's been my girlfriend for years. Didn't you know?"

The room fell silent, the air thick with shock and surprise. But as I looked around at the stunned faces of our peers, I felt a sense of liberation wash over me. We had finally broken free from the shackles of the rivalry, and nothing – not even the expectations of others – could hold us back any longer.

As Jack wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close, I knew that our love was stronger than any rivalry, stronger than any obstacle that stood in our way. And as we danced together in the center of the room, surrounded by the whispers of our peers and the glow of the evening lights, I knew that we were finally free to be ourselves – together, forever.

#hockey #nhl x reader #new jersey devils #nj devils #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes #jack hughes blurb

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paradiseprincesss · 5 months

Note

Omg hi!!! I absolutely LOVED espresso it's so cute!! Would you be open to doing some major fluff with Jim (delinquent season)? Thanks so much!!!!

CPR - jim (delinquent season) x reader

hello lovely anon! THANK YOU! that means so much to me i appreciate your kind words! and yes, of course, we love love LOVE jim over here - he is criminally underrated. he's dreamy.

summary: after a shitty, messy, and rough divorce, jim is hesitant to love again - but he falls for a younger woman who changes his mind, and teaches him how to love again.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: so there is a large age gap (everyone is of legal age, jim is in his mid forties, reader is just described as 'in college,' so take that how you will), kissing, swearing, divorce, jim's employed as a professor but the reader isn't his student! other than that, no warnings just fluff lol

we don't chose who we fall in love with - at least, that's what jim always thought, and that's what he told himself.

jim never pictured himself to be the type of guy to date a younger woman, he always thought it was a little strange actually because what would someone his age have in common with someone roughly 20 years younger than him?

well, more than he thought.

he didn't intend on falling in love with you. he just...did. jim met you through a friend of his, weirdly enough. he had just finalized his divorce with his ex-wife, which was messy and screwed his perception of love up quite a bit - anyone would feel that way after finding out that their spouse of over a decade was having an affair.

so yeah, jim had some issues revolving around love.

with that being said, when an old college buddy of his (who he talked to a few times a year at most through facebook or text, and occasionally over the phone) had rung him up about how he had moved back to ireland and was having some old friends over for dinner just for old times sake, he figured sure, he'd go since he had nothing better to do.

fast forward to a week later, he showed up in his usual attire - casual slacks and sweater - and was greeted by a handful of his old college friends. jim couldn't lie - it was nostalgic, and frankly, kind of refreshing to be out socializing and living life again after his divorce. it had been a good 6 months since the divorce, and he was honestly feeling good for once.

"jim, hey!" his old college roommate, dan, greeted him at the door. "come on in, we're just having some beers in the living room, the games gonna be on soon."

the night went well, jim got to catch up with his old buddies from his college days, and they spent the evening drinking beers and fussing over the game on tv.

"so, i heard 'bout the ex-wife. hey, i'm sorry, man." another old acquaintance of his, ryan, had said to him.

jim laughed lightly, "s'alright. shit happens, i guess." to which all the other men just murmured and agreed with.

the conversations flowed well, and honestly - it felt good to rant about his ex-wife with some old buddies, and openly talk about his divorce like this - what she did was fucked up. he felt like he needed to and should be able to vent, too.

as the men were busy shouting at the tv, beers in hand, a softer voice called out, "dad?" and jim's buddy dan looked over his shoulder to see his daughter, standing in the doorway of the living room with a small smile.

jim looked away from the game momentarily, out of curiosity - and good god did his heart stop when he did. he was aware that dan had a daughter in college and he knew of her name, but he didn't realize how beautiful she was. the two of them locked eyes for a split second, and he looked away slightly embarrassed.

he didn't really know why he was embarrassed, it's not like he was doing anything shameful or wrong - but finding your friends daughter who was still a college student when he was in his forties was definitely wrong in a sense, well- to a certain degree.

"oh, hey sweetie, i didn't even realize you were still up." dan says to his daughter.

"it's only..." you pause, checking your phone, "half past eight, dad. plus, i'm stuck on this stupid essay my professor assigned to us yesterday." you laugh softly - lightheartedly, and jim felt his heart skip a few beats.

"oh, that's no good," dan says, "jim's a professor, i'm sure he won't mind if you asked him a few questions - maybe he can help you." your dad shrugs, looking at jim and then focusing back on the game.

you blush slightly, and you knew your dad was just being friendly and trying to be helpful - but suggesting you get his older (and really attractive!) friend who just so happened to be a professor to help you with your essay seemed...well, it was like one of those storylines you'd see in a movie, or a book...or something.

"um, dad, i'm sure jim doesn't want to step away from watching the game to help with homework-" you start to say, but in a moment of confidence (and a little alcohol), jim cut you off with a gentle tone.

"no- no, it's no worries, really. i was going to get up and grab another pint anyways." he says, getting up to go to the kitchen. you just walk with him into the kitchen, somewhat at a loss for words.

you get a better look at him under the dimmed kitchen lights, and you could already feel yourself getting nervous in his presence. you never found any of your dads friends attractive before - but jim, well, he was different.

the salt and pepper hair was...really hot. and god, those eyes. those glacier coloured eyes; you barely had a chance to even meet the man and somehow he had you in a chokehold before you spoke more than just a few sentences to each other.

"so," he broke the silence, "watcha studying?"

you quietly told him what you were majoring in, and he nodded, smiling at you softly, "well, i don't teach that particular subject or major - but i'll try and help you out regardless."

you retuned the small smile, "y-yeah, okay. cool."

for the next hour or so, the two of you sat closely next to one another at the dining table, your textbooks and papers sprawled out in front of you, with the doc you were writing open on your laptop. he helped you structure your essay and the two of you were about 80% done with it - that was until he requested that you turn back the page of your textbook.

"wait, go back to page 116 i think it says something about that at the bottom of the page." he tells you, reaching out to turn the pages back in the textbook. however, you also reached to turn the page back - causing the both of your hands to touch, to swiftly brush against each other.

with a small blush, you quickly pull back, still nervous. "sorry."

he laughs softly, shaking his head, "no need to be sorry."

taking a deep breath, you respond, "sorry- sorry, i keep saying sorry-"

"you okay?" he offers a gentle smile, and you felt your heart start racing a million miles per minute. you weren't one to get easily flustered like this - you never got this nervous, certainly not around guys your own age, at least.

jim didn't know why - but he felt the same way. however, he tried to play it cool. he had been on a few dates with a few different women here and there post divorce, but all of them were dead ends. however, with you, it almost felt like he had known you for a lifetime even though he had only just met you.

"yeah, just..." you trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words again. he looked at you with an expression that you couldn't quite read, and his gaze flickered to your lips - then back to your face. "just what?" he whispers to you, and you felt yourself drowning in his impossibly blue eyes.

suddenly, you felt his gentle hand on your thigh, and your breath hitched as he whispered to you again. "just what?"

"just kiss me." you whisper back, and with that, his hands were gently coming up to cup your face, and he kissed you softly.

you'd never kissed someone so much older than you before, and the thought of it made your head dizzy. after a moment, the both of you pulled away from the kiss, but his hand remained on your face.

"is it...is it strange if i ask you if i could take you out to dinner sometime?" he asks quietly, and you felt your cheeks heat up at the question.

"not at all, i'd love that." you smile at him.

again, falling in love wasn't part of the plan, but jim didn't really have a choice when it came to you. it just happened so naturally.

"sweetheart?' you hear his voice call out softly and the sound of the door closing, and you turn around to see him coming home from work - god, you loved when he wore his little sweaters with the sleeves rolled up half way - it really got you going.

"baby, hi." you greet him softly, bundled up in a blanket on the couch of his living room. "how was work?"

he slumps down beside you, pulling you into him softly with a sigh, kissing the top of your head. "it was alright, finished teaching my lecture earlier than expected so that was good." he tells you, voice gentle and tone loving.

"mm, well i'm glad to have you home early." you tell him sweetly, pulling him into a chaste kiss.

"what would you like for dinner, sweetheart?" he asks you, and you shrug, "jim, you worked all day, you don't have to make dinner it's fine." to which he shook his head and insisted, "how about some pasta?"

"jim," you whine softly, "you're so cute, i love you."

"i love you too, honey." he says, kissing you again.

after the date you two had, things just seemed to flow effortlessly. you'd never been with an older man before - and he was so very attentive to your every need, every want, every boundary you had - he took things slow with you, never ever pressuring you into anything.

now, six months later, you and jim had been dating for a few months, while you were still adjusting to dating someone roughly 20 years your senior - it was something you wouldn't change.

jim felt the same way - things were different with you. being with a younger woman was fun, it was new. you taught him things as much as he taught you things. with his ex-wife, there was no trust. no real love. no meaning to life, even though the two of them had kids together, it didn't change the fact that he always felt like he was married to someone he didn't know - a stranger.

you weren't a stranger, though - no, you were quite the opposite to him. you made him feel at home, you were his home. he often found himself wondering where he'd be if you weren't by his side. probably gone, he thinks.

after dinner and a steamy shower together, the two of you laid in his bed together, your head on his chest and his arms holding you in a warm embrace.

"...i want you to meet my kids." he suddenly tells you, and you turn your head to look up at him with love in your eyes, "yeah?" you whisper, causing him to whisper back a quiet "yeah" back to you.

he softly takes your hand and intertwines it with his own, a content sigh leaving his lips. "would you ever want to get married again?" you ask quietly - not even sure why you felt the sudden urge to ask that, but you did anyway.

he was quiet for a moment.

jim never thought he would re-marry, in fact, he didn't even think he'd ever find someone that he would want to marry after his ex-wife. but that was before he found you.

"i wouldn't ask you to meet my kids if i didn't plan on marrying you." he finally says, pulling you even closer. your breath hitched when he confessed that, and you felt yourself blushing a little too. "you mean that?" you ask him, to which he squeezed your hand.

"you made me love again - i sound corny, but i'm dead serious. i was at the end, then you came into my life... you made me feel like there was life worth living."

"oh, jim," you whisper, a little breathless at his continuous admissions about how much he loved you, "you're my everything."

he looked at you with admiration, and smiled softly at you. you were his everything, too. he often wondered if you knew that. if you knew how much he adored you. in a world where he felt like nobody understood him - you did. you were the only one he ever confided in.

your love fixed all his pain, your love fixed his heart - and you didn't even know. you didn't even know how much you were fixing a heart that you didn't break.

he felt like he was revived in a sense - brought back to life from the dead. brought back from his inevitable death of a marriage that had minced his heart. but now, things were different because he had you.

and you - you were the only thing that could jumpstart his flatlining heart again - like CPR.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #jonathan crane x f!reader #jonathan crane x reader #cillian fic #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy imagine #cillian x fem!reader #jim the delinquent season #jim delinquent season #jim delinquent season x reader #jim x reader #the delinquent season imagine #robert fischer x y/n #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer #robert fischer imagine

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sexy-monster-fucker · 5 months

Text

Consorts [Part 1]

The Ghoul|Cooper Howard x F!Bounty Hunter!Reader

Summary: Months back, the Reader and Cooper got in a huge mess after deciding to work together after finding out they were given the same bounty. Neither has seen each other since. Reader has been laying low in a far off settlement, working a common bar job just to make a living...

a/n: very excited to attempt another multi-part story for the first time in years!! for the record, I have only watched the show through once and I have never played one of the games sooooo sorry for any inaccuracies

~~~

You sat another glass in front of one of your bar dwellers.

It had been months since you even dared go outside this town. You hid your face anytime you were outside the walls of your dwelling. You were forced to lay low after your last bounty went south. Not only had you lost all credibility as a bounty hunter, but a giant target had been attached to your back by the group who you had wronged. There was no where safe for you.

Although your face had to be mostly covered, your job required a certain level of attracting customers. You would make sure to wear something rather revealing of your chest, along with skin tight pants. Making sure you flirted strongly with your eyes to attract more people to the bar.

A group of men who had been sat at a table for sometime all approached the bar at once. You could hear them mumbling something back and forth as glances were shot your way.

"Great," you thought, "Some moron got bet by his friend to hit on me." You rolled your eyes as you cleaned one of the glasses.

"Sweetheart," followed by a whistle.

Your skin crawled. Smug faces met yours when you turned around.

"What's a lady like you doing working in a place like this?" He cocks an eyebrow at you. You huff in response.

"Don't misunderstand now..." a click and suddenly all the men were pointing guns at you, "I want to know why you thought someone worth so much would be hiding in plain sight. We all swore you were smarter than that." You stared down the barrel of his gun.

You sucked your teeth, dropping your head to the side slightly, "Y'all're here for the money? I thought you were going to compliment a lady." Your gun is fired quicker than any of them can register. The man in front of you falls backwards, the others squatting down in fear. You take your opportunity and run out the back exit.

Your mind is playing every possibility of this ending. Gunfire dancing on the ground around you as the men chase you. You end up in the middle of town, firing your gun at them as they are hot on your tail. In a flash, the amount of people after you practically doubles. Your eyes widen as you attempt to find somewhere to hide. You grab a grenade off your belt, throwing it center at them.

While smoke surrounded them, you slid under and behind a large lean-to. You were on all fours, looking through the small crack in the wood. The men were scrambling, firing their guns in any and all directions. A fight was breaking out.

"FIND HER YOU IDIOTS!" One of the men shouted.

You heard more gunfire joining theirs. You knew it had to be some local fighting back. You scanned the area around you, seeing a small pathway that led to a more exposed part of the fort you had hidden in. You crawled, hoping it would lead you out.

"My, my," a familiar voice spoke above you. You looked up to see him staring down at you, his head cocked to the side. "Oh, sweet Jesus," one of your hands rubs down your face. "Longtime no see, doll," he grinned.

The infamous Ghoul. Few knew his name, fewer lived long enough to share it. The two of you had become more than acquainted in a prior mission gone wrong. The one that had left you both on the run.

He reached a hand out to you, pulling you up to your feet. "Didn't expect to see you here," he grumbled. You rolled your eyes, placing your back against his preparing to fireback together. You felt him turn his head slightly, "Y'know, I didn't take you for a brothel girl." Smugness was written on his tone. Your cheeks flooded with a slight embarrassment. He shifted positioning his lips directly next to your ear, "Took you for more of a cowgirl after last time." Heat radiated your body with his obvious innuendo. "People have to do things when they're on the run," you breathe out. He scoffed in your ear.

The Ghoul aimed his gun out, shooting and hitting one of the goons. "I'll get us out of this, but you've got to make a deal with me," he looked down at you. You crossed your arms, "What could you possibly want from me?"

"We're going to finish the mess you got me in," he pointed at you. "That I got you in? That isn't at all-" "I don't have time for this. You either take the deal or I leave you here."

You blew your breath out, "Deal." You gritted your teeth. His lip curved into a smirk, "That's a good girl. Now you stay here and on my signal come out." You nodded.

The Ghoul stepped out from behind the wooden building, whistling to get all the gunmen's attention. You watched as they all directed their attention towards him. Guns all pointed at him before realizing who stood before them.

"There's the other one!"

"That's the Ghoul they're promising a reward for too!"

"We could get double the money!"

The brim of his hat hid his eyes from them.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be, ghoul. If you just give us the girl we can be on with our way," one of them shouted.

"So you can come back and get me later? Not gonna happen," he pointed his gun at them, "I'm leaving here with the girl."

The man chuckled, "You're out numbered here."

The Ghoul shrugged his shoulders. He fires his gun at the giant water barrel suspended above the town. It tips over, soaking all the men in radioactive water. The Ghoul swiftly runs back to you, grabbing your hand and running off with you. You were quick on your feet following behind him.

You both run as fast as you can until the town is no longer in the distance. You slow down, attempting to catch your breath. Loud and obvious huffs leaving you.

"C'mon, Y/N. We've gotta keep going before they get smart." He gestured at you to follow him.

~~~

END//Part 1

[Thank you for reading! If you are interested in being tagging in any of my writings don’t be afraid to message me! All tag lists are open! I have a master taglist and one for each character!]

Tags:

@mortuus-poet | @giggle-shade |

// Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 //

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #fallout #fallout series #walton goggins #writing #fanfic #sexymonsterfics #part 1 #walton goggins x reader #the ghoul #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader

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gloomunson · 6 months

Text

Purely Transactional

First time really publishing anything I've written for Eddie. No stranger to smut. just to him. Go easy on me.

Eddie Munson smut. The one where you fake date. Picture the 90s. Slow build.

Word Count: 12,872

Picture this; you’re being forced to attend your sisters engagement party, it’s a weekend event a couple towns over. You’ve got a room booked for two, yourself and your boyfriend. Your family can’t wait to meet the man who’s stolen your heart at last. It’s actually the second biggest event in your family history for years. The issue: you don’t have a boyfriend. You haven’t had one since you were 16. You only said you did have a boyfriend because you thought you would have by now. You never saw life going this way at all. Now you either have to fess up to being a single mother of two beautiful little dogs or find a last minute lover to feel less alone. Yay.

You asked everyone you knew. The neighbour, the neighbour’s neighbour. His cousin from out of town, his cousin from out of town’s neighbour. Every single one of your friends and only one of them gave you something or more, someone to work with. “Why don’t you ask Eddie?” You’re slouching on his sofa, sinking into the leather as he strums away at his guitar a joint hanging dangerously from his mouth. “I don’t know him.” You say it like it’s obvious, kicking your feet up. “Which is exactly why you should.” You catch his drift, but you don’t want to. It wasn’t as ideal as he thought it was. “I’m gonna get asked questions.” You deadpan. “So, make some notecards.” You tug the joint from his mouth, bringing it to your own. “Yes you may have that.” You flick him. “Rude.” You take a drag before slotting it back gently between his lips, returning to your seat.

“He won’t do it.” Gareth doesn’t respond. “I know he won’t, he doesn’t like me.” He huffs. ‘You hadn’t given him a chance to’ is what he says in his mind. “Has he told you that?” He quit playing, giving you more of his attention. He really did want to help. “Not exactly, no.” He leaned over his guitar, placing the joint down in his hand painted ash tray on the coffee table. The one you made for him for Christmas the year before. The one that he loved and guarded with his life. “Ask him.” You shake your head. “Ask him.” He says again, the guitar now being rested carefully against the table alerting you that he meant business. “No. Way.” You continue. He moves over to you; you slot your legs across his lap, and he leans back into his seat comfortably under the weight of them. “I’m gonna ask him.” You think he’s joking. You hoped he was joking. He wasn’t joking.

“Edward, we don’t know each other that well so I thought you’d be perfect plus you’re kinda the only other single one left, so it had to be you.” There were no lies told. You were the only ones; it might have been the only thing you actually had in common in your little inner circle of friends. You weren’t close but you also weren’t complete strangers. You were a little more than acquaintances, but not really friends. He was your only shot at this, that much you did know. “I resent that.” You roll your eyes, ‘you would,’ you think. You’re running out of options, he was your last chance, you had a week to prepare, this had to be it. You considered throwing in the towel moments before he arrived at your place. Half an hour late. It should have been enough of a sign not to go through with it but then he did arrive. Meaning that somewhere deep down inside him, he was interested. You could work with interested.

“I’ll pay you.” You can’t imagine anything worse; you were desperate sure, not desperate enough to actually pay him but desperate all the same. He seemed reasonable enough though. He had more money now than he knew what to do with and he was close with Gareth. Gareth was good people; he’d turn your offer down; you were sure of it. “How much?” He perks up, stroking his chin now his attention was caught. “You weren’t actually supposed to want payment.” You panicked, feet shuffling, hands tapping your thighs relentlessly. He was smirking. “Isn’t that how this is supposed to work?” He steps in close, a couple feet between you, not enough. “Want me to act like an escort? You’re gonna have to pay me like one.” If you hadn’t ever had a conversation with him, you might have found that attractive. He was tall, dark, and handsome. His jawline so picturesque you may have thought about kissing it once or twice. You also liked his eyes, even if he was cold and callous beneath them, only out for himself. But he wasn’t that attractive, and he didn’t intimidate you like he thought he did. Much.

“Like you don’t have more money than my entire family combined.” You dig. His rock star era made a hell of a name for himself. This was never going to happen. You don’t know why he even entertained it this far. There wasn’t a single helpful bone in his body, no matter how much you wished there were. “How bad do you need a boyfriend sweetheart?” He shortens the space between you even more. Your chest feels tight, the confidence dripping from his tongue was actually working on you, you were out of your depth. The way he looked at you too. Eyes flicking down to your lips and back, head tilting slightly, almost robotically, like he was sizing you up. Seeing if he could make it work. Make you work for him. You felt a heat on the back of your neck. You felt gross.

“100 bucks if they believe it, 50 if they don’t.” You couldn’t believe you were even saying it. You’d have to make him forget you agreed to any of that. “For how long?” He quipped back. “You’re so greedy. I’m gonna have to make a note of that in our very public lovers spat.” You lace it with venom as well as humour, standing your ground. The corner of his lips begins to curl. He fights it. “How long?” He repeats again, just as steady in tone. “A weekend.” You breathe. “Like Saturday and Sunday.” He asks. “Like Friday to Monday,” you respond just as deadpan. “200.” He takes a dangerous step closer. You don’t flinch. “150 and no black eye.” His brows furrow, forehead creasing in confusion. He kind of reminded you of a neanderthal. Dumb little boy.

“Why would I have a black eye?” You raise your fist. “OKAY PUT YOUR FIST DOWN. Jesus woman, I’ll do it.” He admits defeat. “Perfect. I made some note cards, things about me you may get asked about, read them, memorise them, guard them with your life.” You tug the notes from your back pocket, pushing them into his chest abruptly. He looks down at them quizzically. “What if they ask about me?” You shrug your shoulders. “I’m sure you’re not that complex.” He doesn’t attempt to hide how insulted he is by that.

“When is it?” You point to the cards. “All the information you need is in the notes.” He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again, “how are we-“ you go to open your front door, you’d had the entire conversation in the hallway, not wanting him to go any further into your home than that. “In the notes Edward.” He takes a look down at the cards in his hands, he hated reading other people’s handwriting, made him feel dumb when he couldn’t understand it as well as he’d liked. You joined your letters all curly too which didn’t help. He actually half expected you to dot the I’s with hearts, you seemed like that kind of girl. He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed that you hadn’t.

You’re ushering him out the door, waving your hand to make him move faster. He pauses in your doorframe. You were so close. You could just kick him; he’d be off your property in no time. You wouldn’t have to think about him for another week then. You could pack your bags in peace. “You spelt my name wrong.” He points to the card; you’d done it on purpose. “No, I think your parents did.” He frowns. Before he can respond again you give him that much needed shove out the door. “BYE Eddie!” You slam it behind him, leaning your back against it as if that would prevent him from getting back inside and on top of your nerves again. He found the whole ordeal just as unpleasant as you had but he still finds himself on the other side of that door with a smile on his face. He read every single card you wrote for him. You were way more annoying than he thought.

“What part are you guys having trouble understanding?” You ask the table, leaning over, reaching for your cocktail to distract your mouth before you can step your foot in it. You were being tested way harder than you ever anticipated you would. You really never imagined they’d care let alone put you on trial for the crime of getting a boyfriend without their prior knowledge or approval. It’s nice to know how friendly and welcoming they really are when push comes to shove. You’d have to keep that in mind for the real thing, whenever that might be.

You’d laugh the nerves away, but you were afraid you might never stop laughing. You’d just manically laugh until you sank under the table, down into the ground, right to centre of the earth, burning up at the core before passing away painfully. You wished you could laugh. Instead, you just took the longest sip, looking to your left and right as subtly as you could muster under the immense pressure placed upon your shoulders by your sister and her fiancé. Deep breaths, it’ll all be over soon.

“I don’t buy it.” She states matter of factly. “You go from a single dog mom to suddenly in love with the perfect guy.” You open your mouth to speak but you daren't even try, she’s not finished yet. “It’s a little conveniently timed don’t you think?” She waves her hands to illustrate her point in that annoying fashion that only she could. Waving her fresh manicure right in your face, whether accidental or on purpose, still ridiculously annoying and yet another reminder that she had her life together and you didn’t. She turned to her fiancé before glancing towards the rest of the table for back up, all nodding along with her instantly as if she were a puppet master stringing them along. Cowards.

Your gaze remains steady and ice cold, colder than the slushy cocktail in your hands. The only thing that made the weekend worth it was the free bar and the adorable outdoor beer garden. You release the straw after a long sip with an “Ahh.” You try not to enjoy the twitch of your sister’s right eye at the sound. She’d always loathed when people did that. Anyone who made a noise of satisfaction after a drink no matter how delicious or refreshing it may be, was a colossal pain in her ass. You think she just despises other people’s enjoyment. She thinks it’s an unnecessary sound that people tend to use to exaggerate how nice something is as a performance for other people rather than for themselves. She also thinks it’s incredibly unladylike, which gives you a bigger kick to try it out every single time.

“Why would I lie?” You place your drink down harder than you intend to, wincing as the glass clangs on the table so hard you thought it may shatter. “You know I love you sis, but I don’t think I’d go to the length of faking a relationship just because you’re getting engaged.” Which would be such a wonderful sentence to throw out into the universe if that weren’t exactly what you were doing. “I just met the right guy.” You try not to grimace at the cheesiness of it all, that, and the fact you still hadn’t decided if you’d even liked him more than just a piece of eye candy. Because there was no denying that he was attractive, from the start he’d had that going at least. You’d only been admitting it because of the influence of alcohol too. It was just the rest of the package that gave you a headache.

“But he’s-“ You scowl before she continues that sentence, you almost will her to continue. “He’s what?” You push. If anyone were going to come for Eddie they had better make it good because that was an area you excelled in and would absolutely love to be a part of even if you did have to defend him right now. You could always use any good material at a later date when left to your own devices though, a pen and paper would be wonderful.

“He’s not your type.” You don’t believe that’s what she planned to say, it came out far too polite to be something she’d actually thought of. “What is my type then?” You probably shouldn’t have asked her this, but your curiosity trumps all reason. She flails her hand around in her lap, trying to think of the correct way to phrase it. You had no doubt your past relationships were displaying in her mind, enough horrendous options for her to choose from right out of a hat.

“Nerds,” she begins to list on her fingers, which is quite alarming because you really didn’t think you had that much of a track record. “Gamer boys,” which basically comes under ‘nerds.’ “Skinny guys,” that was absolutely not exclusive, “Gamer boy nerds.” She throws 3 fingers up. That’s if she was classing ‘boy’ as a type which you assume she was. You had to hand it to her, she wasn’t entirely wrong about your past dating pool, but Eddie wasn’t exactly far off that. Allegedly, back in his school days, he was the biggest nerd of them all, right before his band took off, he was participating in DnD tournaments and if that wasn’t the epitome of gamer boy nerd then what was? He just happened upon a glow up in his mid-twenties, something you still desperately waited for yourself. “Eddie just, doesn’t seem much of a nerd.” You’re certain that’s not what she intended to say, and you thought she might stop herself there, but she doesn’t, why would she? “He’s, well I hate to say it,” you bet she doesn’t though, “he’s out of your league.” Ahh, there it is. That’s more like it. She even says it with an apologetic expression to make you consider it for a millisecond. If only he were here. Oh, how he’d love this.

Eddie was the lucky one in this scenario, whether it was fake or not, you were a catch. One that no one had ever caught and kept hold of but a catch, nonetheless. Your mom would agree, probably not the best argument but it’s there and it counted. You reached for your drink once again and prayed he returned soon; you were drowning out here and you weren’t even out of the shallows. “Then lucky me.” You sip as aggressively as one can with a shitty paper straw wedged between their teeth. You were so glad the sea turtles were safer at the hands of recycled paper straws, but you so missed being able to drink a cocktail without the added ingredient of paper mache sinking at the bottom of each glass.

“Why are we in luck?” His voice swings in joining the conversation as he walks back over to your table, the chain on his jeans jingling as it swayed while he walked. You’d asked him to remove it, he swore he would, he didn’t. His hearing was impeccable, you wonder what else had slipped by him on his way over. You’d honestly never felt so relieved to hear his voice either, even if his steps closer bought the smell of cheap cigarettes and your early twenties. You’d have loved him back then. Back in college, your first taste of freedom, the option to date whoever you liked, to experiment a little. You’d have eaten up that bad boy, leather jacket, fingers coated in metal, cigarette smoking musician act he had going for him. Quiet and brooding too, oh yeah, your knickers would have never left the floor. Good thing you grew up since then.

He grabbed his chair, pushing it right next to yours, as close as he could get without sitting directly on top of you and for a second you ponder about why he bothered with his chair at all. His eyes burned into the side of your face, and you plastered a smile wide enough to match his as you leant into him. “What took you so long?” You whispered while maintaining that sickeningly sweet smile that hurt your face to pull. “You miss me that much?” He licked across his bottom lip, and you mentally scold yourself for looking at it. “I’m getting eaten alive out here.” He grinned wider. “Must be because you’re so damn delicious.” Your stomach fluttered. What the fuck?

He pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek. You felt yourself relax into him, like his lips had sucked all of the tension from your body. You may not like him very much but you sure were glad he was here right now. Even without the facade, it was hard being in environments where you had to face your entire family alone. It’s not that you weren’t close with them, or didn’t love them, it was just difficult standing your own ground sometimes. You needed that extra shield for the invasive questions and high expectations, the anchor to keep you firmly in place, sure of yourself. It was a tough act to balance.

He couldn’t deny that he’d gained some respect for you for how well you’d handled things. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d manage a family dynamic like this alone, even if he were part of it. He was kind of developing a soft spot for you, probably more than you were anyway. Okay, definitely more than you were. He wasn’t sure when it started. He’d had the message exchanges throughout the last week. He had the detailed notes about your life from start to finish to divulge. The 3 hour car journey where you refused to play music, instead forcing him to answer questions about you in preparation for the event. It was somewhere amongst there. Maybe even when you’d shared a room the past two nights without killing each other. In seeing a vulnerable side of you that made you appear a little more human. He’d also seen a larger portion of you without clothing, that certainly helped.

Yes. Perhaps somewhere around there he’d liked you. All he knew now was that in watching your interactions with your family, it made him want to stick to you like glue and support you the best he could for however long you would let him. You had it covered, and you’d tell him that too, afraid of showing any weaknesses, but that’s exactly why he felt like he should support you, he didn’t want you to feel so alone, you didn’t have to be so alone. He’d known all too well what that was like.

He didn’t even have to force himself to kiss your cheek that time, he’d just wanted to rid your face of the frown that threatened to grace it, even if he found it adorable. His issue now was that he had trouble moving away. His lips lingering, breath tickling your cheek, until you coughed under your breath for him to shift away. For a moment he’d wished it weren’t all play pretend. That he could stay there and have it not feel so strange. He couldn’t pin point when his eyes started to soften at the sight of you. All he knew was that they had. It was getting increasingly easier to act enamoured by you, because, well, he might have been.

“So, what did I miss?” He tilts his head towards the rest of the table, it felt like such a difficult task to withdraw his attention from you. You yourself took the opportunity to catch a much needed breath. You also needed to pat your stomach to hold off the swarm of butterflies scrambling around in there. There was this dizzying, uneasiness in the pit of your tummy, like you were fighting the emotions within yourself. Those damn love bugs were wasting their time going crazy for this situation. It wasn’t real, not worth the energy. Surely you didn’t need to be convinced of that, it was clear as day. You didn’t need this unnecessary nausea. “We were just talking about what a wonderful couple you are.” Your brother in law speaks, directing his attention towards the man at your side. You really thought you’d liked that man, he betrayed you. You kept a special scowl just for him. He felt hot under the collar when he felt the intensity of it. Good, you thought. Traitor.

Eddie bravely dipped his hand down onto your thigh where he’d noticed your hand was already resting, slipping his fingers between yours, resting atop your knuckles effortlessly for all to see. You’d felt your breath hitching in your throat. The simplicity of the action shouldn’t have caused such a stir, but it was just so easy for him. He was so touchy feely like it was the most natural thing in the world. He loved to touch, and you never expected it from him. It was one of the main reasons that made it so hard to remain sure that this was all an act. Was he like this with everyone? You’d half hoped he wasn’t, even if your other half screamed at you for that naivety. It wasn’t exactly your love language, but you’d wished it were, you wanted to touch him. Too many drinks maybe.

“Why do I feel like that’s sarcasm?” He threw back with nothing but charm, sweet like honey dripping from his tongue. If he weren’t in a band you could certainly picture him as an actor with some of the crap he pulled. Sometimes he even had you believing this whole thing, lines blurring like no other. Especially when nuzzled his nose into your neck eliciting a squeal from your lips. All before deciding to stay there, sitting with his chin resting on your shoulder happily. Like the most casual position in the world.

Your heart pounded against your chest. His arm slunk around your waist. His mouth opened for you, signalling you to bring his cocktail and straw between his lips to take a sip. A ridiculously over the top public display of affection you swore you’d never partake in. Yet for some reason your hands were ignoring every judgment your mind was making, allowing you to feed him his drink like some kind of mother to a parched child. It was interesting to you how fast you’d been able to communicate with him like that without it ever needing to be said or asked for. “You owe me.” You whisper. “Not how this transaction really works.” He says between sips rather impressively. It might even be considered cute if it wasn’t such a threat. Your cheeks burned.

“It just seems so sudden.” Your sister just can’t bite back her tongue for more than two seconds huh. You’re literally sat there with giant, red, beaming heart eyes for each other. So, close your personal space would never be described as such for as long as you shall live, ever again. Literally feeding each other. Squeezing each other’s hands. Hating every second you’re apart. Feeling like you may break without the other. Whispering sweet nothings (more like threats but no one else had spotted that) into each other’s ears. You’re both so over the top, overwhelmingly infatuated (although falsely) with each other you may as well claim this engagement party as your own and YET, no one believed you for a second. Hell, even you thought you might be falling. Thank you vodka.

“When you know, you know.” You say, lifting your hand to pat his cheek after putting his drink back on the table. He squeezes your other hand instinctively. He’d almost forgotten he was holding it in the first place, it felt so nice and soft, like it belonged in his. It could belong there. “What will it take to convince you?” He offers. You squeeze his hand even harder, this time hoping to pump the breaks on this one. As much as you appreciated him sticking up for the relationship. You weren’t up for a quick fire round of questions that you weren’t prepared in the slightest. Especially since he refused to learn the answers to any potential enquiries a day prior. Deeming the impromptu quiz session in the car ‘enough learning for a lifetime.’

“Ed,” is all you warn while you beg him to shut up with your mind instead. “No, no sweetie, we can answer all the questions they have.” He grinned at you so menacingly; you wanted to wipe that smirk right off his adorably smug little face. Woah. When did he become adorable? Scratch that. Shush. You’re so pissed you don’t even fawn over the pet name, much. You may as well pack your bags now and return home though, you were done for, the hoax was over. The end.

“What’s her favourite band?” Okay, we’re actually doing this. “Or singer, if that’s easier.” Ryan, your least favourite brother in law and your only brother in law, fires out. He only knew the answer himself because he tried to impress you one Christmas by buying you a limited edition vinyl. Of all the people at this table, you thought at least he wouldn’t be sceptical of you. Unbelievable.

“There isn’t just one, its multiple, depends what mood she’s in.” You’re intrigued already on where this is going. Your sister jeered at the response, already less than impressed. Eddie turns his head, lifting his hand to silence her before she can say anything. You almost pat him on the back for it. “But, if I had to choose.” Which he did. He really did. “Queen, Black Sabbath, and I’m going to add Corroded Coffin in there because she’s our number one groupie, aint that right babe?” You allow yourself to roll your eyes at the last part, even if you were dating you doubt you’d let him describe you as a groupie, dick.

“That’s easy, they’re pretty generic choices.” You had to give them that one, it wasn’t the most cut throat list of indie artists you could only associate with your taste and yours only. You’d been a bit of a basic music lover your whole life and there was no shame in that. You liked what you liked and that was okay. You were still impressed he knew any of your list though. Maybe he actually had read your notes, lying shit. Definitely not adorable. “Favourite food?” Okay, still going. You lean back, may as well get comfortable since you’re going to be here for a while.

He snorted before answering that one and you wondered what was so insanely funny that could make him move his hand away from your thigh to explain it properly. You missed his touch the second you were without it. Gag. “Bread.” He giggled just saying it, the kind of giggle where the creases beside his eyes really stood out and his cheeks bunched up all precious and pudgy underneath them. You can’t help but smile.

“But not just plain bread right,” he looked to you before continuing as if to say ‘hey, watch this, look at me.’ He thinks he has you down. You indulge him. “So, bread in its many forms,” he lifted his fingers to start listing, “sandwiches, toast, brioche, fried bread, french toast, pizza dough, the list goes on right but at the height of it all,” he really gestured above his head to signify the detailed tier system of bread options. He added a small and useless breather to gain anticipation, it wasn’t working. “Garlic bread.”

You snorted a laugh yourself this time. Not because he was wrong either, because he was 100% correct in fact. You were mortified that, that was your own answer. He locked eyes with you in a way that he hadn’t done before, with genuine affection, maybe even a glimmer of hope that he’d done you justice. He was captivated by you, your cheeks bursting with redness, your smile tight, starting to hurt you in fighting it. You looked so pretty right now. The glow of the lamps out in this beer garden just added to the radiance he already thought you had. He couldn’t believe a girl as pretty as you considered bread your favourite food.

He also found the noise you made to be one of the cutest things he’d ever heard, and he wished he could make you do it again someday. He really didn’t consider himself that funny though. He might have to get some drinks down you for another laugh like that. “I thought your favourite were sour patch kids?” Your sister argued, using her nails again to assist her point. Eddie quickly chimed in before you could go to correct her.

“Actually, that was her hyper fixation for a little while, ate every flavour except lemon. Which are my favourite, so it works out pretty well.” Your jaw may as well have hit the floor. He’d only known that from the car ride up here. You were about to throw the packet out before he stopped you, complaining you were wasting money and food since you left all the yellow ones. You were shocked he remembered. If you were impressed by him right now, surely everyone else had to be too, right? Wrong.

“Celebrity crush?” He answered this quicker than you or he would like to admit. You also just didn’t know how he came to the conclusion he did and how he was so correct with it, suspicious. “Harrison Ford hands down, can’t even knock it, he’s a handsome man.” The next question went swimmingly too. “Favourite hobby?” He gave it a thought for a second, glancing to you and back, “painting, she’ll say she’s no good at it but actually she’s got a gift. I’ve never seen anyone use colour the way she does. Actually, considered using some of your work for album art.” He turned to you towards the end, and you struggled to decipher whether it was bullshit or not. Your heart actually ached at the thought of it being true.

“Favourite movie?” Your brother in law’s turn to ask. You threw your head back in exasperation. “What is this, the Spanish inquisition? Is this really necessary?” You looked to your sister and her future husband. “Yes!” They admitted in unison. Eddie’s hand returned to your thigh, patting it softly, his thumb rubbing soothing shapes into your bare skin. It was working. God it was working. He was like ice against your fire, the way he cooled you.

“I’ve got this.” He assured you. “Yeah, you kind of do, that’s why it’s so fucking weird.” You admitted quietly but not enough as to hide it from anyone else, deeming it safe for public consumption. He smirked. “Scared I know too much about you?” You were. You were terrified. This time you do lower your voice. “Just didn’t know you could actually read. Guess my notes were a great help after all.” You stuck your tongue out. For a second he thought about taking it in his mouth, probably some other filthier thoughts floated around his brain too. It was something about the proximity and the cocktails you’d shared, you could always blame those.

“Anything Tim Burton but her favourite would have to be the one with Winona,” he knows he has it right, but he just can’t think of the name, turning to you momentarily for help, you mouthed “Edward Scissorhands” before he nodded and repeated it. Considering it featured his own name, you’d think he would remember it. He then paused, not for dramatic effect but so he could smile to himself as he thought about why that was your favourite. “It depicts the whole Frankenstein’s monster thing just finding his way into suburbia but we as the audience” he gestured to his chest, “see a lot more heart than that, an innocent kind of love, one we all want to make us feel worthy, naive really, but ultimately sweet and sacrificing.”

You leant in, your lips close to his ear. “If we were really dating, you’d be getting your dick sucked so hard tonight.” It took every bone in his body not shut the evening down and carry you back to your hotel room with that false promise in mind. He instead tried to ignore the now throbbing sensation in his trousers. Had you always done that to him?

“Ok those are fairly standard.” In what world was his last answer not specifically catered to you? “How about a random trivia round?…” The suggestions just kept going. If this were the only worthy form of entertainment they could find, married life was going to be abysmal. “Or.” He began and this is when you really, really started to panic, like exponentially. There was nothing that could have helped him out now. Your notes only consisted of the likes, dislikes, and the fake scenario in which you first met. There was nothing else. That was the end of the script. He couldn’t be that good at improvisation. You didn’t want the opportunity to find out either. You were no casting director. He no longer had to impress you or anyone else. If they were still at odds with the situation then so be it. You couldn’t please everyone. It really shouldn’t have taken you that long to realise it. Huh. The more you know.

“I can tell you about how she makes me feel.” You really, truly would rather you didn’t know. If it’s the truth, it would hurt. If it was a lie, well that might hurt even more. You begged the universe to keep him quiet. Whatever he had to say was going to blow your cover and throw this whole shit show up in flames. Your sister seemed so keen and intrigued enough to let him continue. You however, said your final goodbyes to any future you had where you weren’t a laughing stock for the entire family. A future where Eddie Munson couldn’t reject and discard you publicly. Now it was a very real possibility, you were far more upset than you ever thought you would be. Eddie glances at you briefly, bucking up the courage to put on the biggest and most detrimental show of his entire life.

He doesn’t face your sister when the words come tumbling from his mouth. He faced you, addressing you like he needed you to hear this and fuck, maybe he did. You actually felt touched about it until he opened his mouth. “You’re kind of a fucking weirdo.” You went to shut him up as the embarrassment crept in, but he spoke louder as he often did. “You are, you’re a freak- and it’s so, it’s refreshing.” Your mouth closed but oh, so slowly. You began to listen to him, decided to trust him. “You’re fucking nuts.” You rolled your eyes. How many ways were there, to describe you as crazy? Why did he feel the need to use all of them? “But I like it. I do. I feel like I can be myself around you.” He talked with his hands a lot as he scrambled the words, rings clinking against each other. You reached for them, settling them in your lap and he silently thanked you for it. Everything got a whole lot easier when you held his hand.

“You make it feel okay to be a bit crazy. You don’t have to be so straight or basic, you can just, be.” Just as you started to smile, you saw that you weren’t the only one. It was working, his little speech was actually working. “I like who I am around you. Even if sometimes you don’t. I like that you tell me when I piss you off. I like that you act like you hate me when you don’t. I like that you’re so fucking stubborn and headstrong you’d never rely on anyone else and that pisses me off.” You felt tingling racing across your chest. “I love that no moment with you feels forced. That, that smile, right there could make flowers bloom.” He gestured to your face with both of your hands linked together. “That your glare could cause a fucking storm or something.” You tried not to get swept up in the fact he’d stopped saying ‘like.’

“I love that everything feels okay when your hand is in mine, even when you try and say you don’t like holding hands, you’re too good at it to hate it. You know exactly the right moments.” He shook his head with a disbelief. It started to feel so real. “I think I’d miss you even if I’d never met you.” His hand tightened around yours when he said his last sentence. “And I’m glad I met you. I hope one day you’ll be glad you met me too.” The rest of his speech hadn’t mattered when he uttered those words. The words that knocked the breath out of you, leaving you fighting for your life in the seat next to him. You don’t think anyone had ever referred to you so kindly in your life, even if he did call you fucking mental at least 5 times throughout.

He couldn’t even breathe. He’d said it. He’d let it all out and now he just saw the look of shock on your face and couldn’t take a single breath, not knowing how you’d react. It was news to him too though. He could play it off as a lie, say he saw it in a movie, some chick flick or something. He’d copied it because of course he had. But then again, on the off chance you weren’t horrified, he wasn’t sure if he had any more guts left to tell you it was true. He just knew that he needed to do something. He had to fill this painful silence somehow and thankfully, he didn’t have to do it alone.

You kissed him. You scraped your jaw off the floor, and you kissed him. You’d not kissed him like this before. Like your life depended on it. Like he was the very air you needed to breathe. Like he’d meant every word he’d just said, and you’d believed it. God you might have even felt the same. You were also slightly ashamed to say, it had your panties soaking between your thighs. Not to mention your heart thundering in your chest.

Eddie kissed you as if he were tattooing his words across your lips for all of eternity. Because for the first time throughout this whole charade, he was actually allowed to mean every word he had said, whether he knew this was how he was feeling at the start of the evening or not. Neither of you could have predicted a confession like this. Even after giving one, he wasn’t quite believing it himself. But fuck, there was freedom in it. There was a lovely form of permanence. Him knowing his words were out there for the universe to take and make with what it will. He felt weightless. It wasn’t the cocktails. Something just clicked in his brain, and he knew it. You were everything.

You melted into each other when his lips found yours. It was sweet and slow but confident, with purpose. Each stroke of his lips against yours carefully considered and carried out like clockwork. You’d felt a rush from this kiss. It was hungrier than any other you’d shared. Quite frankly it was starved. You’d pressed up against him so hard and he’d done just the same to you. His hands coming up to tilt your chin up towards him for more. As if you hadn’t been close enough already. Its only when you gasped at his touch did he slip his tongue into your mouth. You knew he’d had so much practice kissing women like this, but you couldn’t care. You allowed him inside, welcomed the way he licked into your mouth delicately. Blissfully enjoying the taste of his last cigarette on his breath, shocked that it’s not even a put off for you right now.

His words had gotten you drunker than the cocktails you’d been knocking back all evening. You almost whined when he dragged himself away from you. It was way too premature for your liking. Your eyes remained on him and only him as your hands fell back from their place atop his shoulders. You weren’t even sure when they’d gotten there in the first place, just swept away with nothing but him to guide you.

He smiled at you; a smile you know he hadn’t been pretending. You were about to lean back in, sealing that gap between you, before you were reminded of exactly where you were. In public. Very much in public. You sank back into your seat sheepishly, heat rising to your cheeks, burning hot like lava ready to erupt. Eddie threw his arm around you, and you seized the opportunity to hide your face in the crook of his neck out of embarrassment. He thought it might be the cutest thing you could possibly have done. He even struggled to wipe the blush off his own cheeks. He felt like a school boy again. “Okay, fine, we believe you.” Your sister threw her hands up in defeat. You’d forgotten what you were even aiming to prove, your head was so flooded with hormones. It remained that way until you were back inside the hotel.

Back in the safety of your room, deep in the darkness, the only light being from the glowing orange streetlights outside, you found yourself nervous for what would come next. You needed a moment to think. “I’m going to take a shower.” You said softly. “Do you mind?” He shook his head, unable to speak. You’d think that after he’d already lay everything down on the table, that he’d find it easier to approach you, but he resorted back to silence. “Go ahead.” He offered. You wanted to ask him to join you. You didn’t. You just thought about it while you locked the bathroom door behind you. When you wiped off your makeup. When you turned the water on and waited for it to heat up before stripping and stepping inside. You thought about it even under the water, arm stretched out to reach you shampoo. You still didn’t.

He’s already tucked away under the sheets, while you’re in there. He thought about falling asleep, willing himself into a trance before you could return, he couldn’t. His mind was swimming with thoughts. He instead insured that the wall of cushions you’d built on night one, was as high as it ever was. There to wedge a distance between you once more. Which is what you wanted, right? It was your main housekeeping rule for sharing a bed.

“Hey." He breathed, as you returned from the bathroom, steam seeping out after you. He was nervous. You ignored it. He lay flat, facing the ceiling, his arms fastened at his sides above the covers. You shouldn’t let your eyes wander but the light had given you a clear path to follow, leading you to the tattooed arachnid of his chest. You wanted to touch it, you’re not sure why. You slipped silently into bed beside him, only you turned your back on him, willing the conversation to end. But you didn’t actually want it to be over.

He rolled over without so much as a creak being made on the old bed. He barely even tugged the cover from you. It’s like a move too sudden would spook you and send you running, it might have, he couldn’t be certain. “Do you think the great wall of prevention might be ready to come down?” He nudged it into your back for emphasis. He didn’t want the night to end. You didn’t either. And yet, your stomach twisted to think of an excuse, a reason for it to stay very much where it was. Only you didn’t find one. “Okay.” You spoke softly. “Okay.” He repeats just as low, just making sure. You hardly felt him moving them. It was so unlike him to be so gentle, so light handed, treading carefully. He was so cautious and calculated, you never thought he had it in him. The cushions were gone. Now what?

“I’m gonna ask you something, you don’t have to say yes, but I really need to ask it so please just hear me out.” There were a million different things he could have asked you; you’d never have enough time to predict it or rehearse the correct answer, you could only breathe as you anticipated it. “Can I hold you?” It felt good to say it, even if his breath was shaky and his heart felt like it might just pack in. He really wanted to touch you. That was before he even saw you there, lay in the warm glow of the light, hair still a little damp, loose over your shoulder, your t-shirt clinging to your body.

The sheets weren’t covering your lower half as well as you’d thought they were, not now the barrier between you was down. Now he could see the lace band of your panties peeking bellow your sleep shorts. He was about to abandon the whole ordeal. Just a peek shouldn’t have been enough to stir him between his legs and maybe it wasn’t, not on its own. But if he’d counted every other occasion tonight where you’d looked too pretty, sounded too sweet, it all added up and he guessed it contributed to the problem.

He started to worry when you didn’t answer him. You obviously weren’t asleep. You were clearly fiddling with the sheets, your fingers tugged at the material anxiously. He’d completely overstepped, he should have expected that. You weren’t together. You wouldn’t ever be together. That was all this entire weekend was supposed to be after all. Just an opportunity to fake it. How could he be so stupid? “Come here.” He looks down to see you half turned back to him, the duvet lifted, giving him even more of a view of your shorts, but he tried not to look at you too much. To just see the invitation, which was what mattered the most.

He wasn’t sure how to approach, you couldn’t help him either. You would spoon, that was a given, you hadn’t budged your position, left him no choice but to mould his body around yours. He shuffled closer, awkwardly trying to stretch his right arm underneath your pillow without lifting your head, hurting your neck. He curled around your back, leaving inches between you, like he couldn’t quite make himself grow any closer. His left arm rested on his own hip, too afraid to reach out and touch yours. He’d asked to hold you. Why can’t he hold you?

You took matters into your own hands. You blindly reached behind you, hands finding his. Your one superpower. You interlock your fingers with his and bring his arm around your waist, the heat of his body coming with it. You could probably feel his heart pounding chest now he allowed it to press against your back. You definitely felt the goosebumps climbing his arms when you pressed a feather light kiss to his knuckle. His heart leapt in his chest.

“What was that for?” He lifted his head, you don’t know it, but he can see enough of your face from this angle to catch the blush on your cheeks and the smile that crept onto it. He’s reassured by it. “Just felt like it.” You shrugged. Only he doesn’t buy it, but he won’t push his luck. His head hit the pillow, only this time, he’s closer to you. His nose is nearly buried in your apple scented locks. You were so sweet smelling at all times, but that apple was just so incredibly you. He knew you’d only used the stuff because it came in a green bottle too. Because only you would map your product selection on the colour alone. It was one of the first facts in your note cards, that your favourite colour was green.

Fuck. He thinks. He really fucking liked you. He wouldn’t even curse himself for it. You weren’t what he expected, and he liked that. He liked that this didn’t go to plan. He liked that he couldn’t pretend any longer. He was grinning to himself, chuckling even. He boldly buried his head in the crook of your neck like he’d done a couple of times that night but more invasively now there wasn’t much space between you.

“What’s so funny?” You shook his hand in yours. “Hmm?” You fought a laugh yourself; his laughter was infectious; it was just stupid and cute and stupid. “Gareth was right.” He said. You turned your head back slightly, unable to see anything really, before giving up and leaning into the pillow again. “Bout what?” He leaned his head on your shoulder, lips nearing your ear. “Told me this wouldn’t work.” Interesting really, since he ushered you into asking him into this at the start. You’re suitably confused. He’s holding you, giggling in your ear, body warm against yours in this stupidly large bed that he’d made feel tiny, after convincing your family how in love you are, and he said it wasn’t working. That Gareth, your biggest influencer, had also predicted it. Well, you’d have said the opposite.

“This isn’t working.” You have a questioning tone. “Didn’t seem like that downstairs.” You were defensive, rightly so. “No, not like that.” He started. Your grip on his hand loosened and he panicked. ‘Just say what you mean, say what you mean,’ he tells himself. “Turn over.” He leant himself up, still firmly on his side. “Why?” He rolled his eyes. “Please turn over.” He pleaded. “Whyy?” You say again. “Fuck, would you just-“ he shook his hand free from yours, placing it firmly on your hip and he twisted you, so you were flat on your back, facing up at him with surprise. He didn’t expect that to work as well as it did.

“You’re so fucking annoying.” He huffed. “Thanks.” Your arms crossed over your stomach, you tried to avoid his gaze, but he manoeuvred himself so that he was directly above you. He decided you couldn’t be trusted to keep you gaze anywhere but on him. You had to give him a shot. Your expression had softened at the sight of him. Just like he’d hoped. His stupid round cheeks. The dumb smile. Why was he always smiling?

“I wanna kiss you.” He said. You thought he was childish. “Is holding not enough?” He shook his head. “Never enough.” He leaned in close, but he doesn’t kiss you, not yet. His forehead just pressed against yours, his lips hovered, breath tickling your own mouth. “Can I?” He begged for it. “Yes.” You breathed. He does. His lips brush yours and it’s just as nice as every other kiss he’d given you. You’re not sure why you expected it to be different all of a sudden. You just had the idea that maybe it would be. Now that you, well now that you actually liked it.

But it wasn’t different, it was exactly the same. “Eddie.” You whined. “Yeah?” He was upset that you’d interrupted such a crucial moment. “It doesn’t feel like I thought it would.” Your fingers stroked over his cheek; he arched a brow to question you. “We have kissed before; you remember that right?” He teased. You couldn’t have been that drunk. “Yes. Shut up. That’s not what I meant.” He’s still not on the same page although relieved somewhat that you were in fact sober like he thought.

In his mind that kiss was perfect, electrifying, mind blowing, the best kiss yet, you’d have known it too if you didn’t stop him so quickly. “What’s it feel like?” He tried to understand. You thought for a moment. What did it feel like? Warm, soft, sweet, he was one of the sweetest tastes. Where most men would taste of mint, Eddie didn’t. He tasted like cigarettes and the kiwi and strawberry gum he chewed to mask the scent of them on his breath. It didn’t work completely, it more meshed together into its own unique flavour.

It felt nice. “Feels normal.” You said it like it was a bad thing and he can’t understand why. “What’s so wrong with that?” You tried to shake your head. Shake some sense into yourself. You were blowing it. “Kiss me again.” You didn’t have to ask him twice. He pushed his lips against yours, harder than the first time, much harder. Barely leaving a gap between you. Suffocating you with his kiss. He feels like this time he has to try harder; he needed to give you his all. There had to be more.

His lips glided over yours, his lips rough but still careful. His tongue poking out slowly, licking gently over your bottom lip. You part it instinctively and the second his tongue slithered across your teeth, you finally felt it. You don’t know why it took you till the second try. You’re so grateful you felt it at all, but you were panicking for a second, thinking you’d made this huge mistake because how could you let yourself fall for him after all this nonsense? Then you felt it, that spark kicking you to life. That fire in your belly, burning you up inside, begging for his coolness to dampen it down. You fucking needed him.

Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails tucking into them just a little. He’s feeling the heat radiating from you, your energy pouring into him. He’s smiling against your mouth as your tongue meets his briefly. He just knows that this time, he’s got you. “You had me worried there for a second.” He panted, not wanting to pull away but needing to say something. You kissed him over and over, distracting him. Now you’d started, you couldn’t stop. “I know, I’m so cruel.” He smirked, kissing you back just as vigorously, hand coming to your throat, resting gently on it before tilting your chin up towards him.

You captured his eyes, so dark, nearing black in the dim light. If it weren’t for the golden flecks you’d be convinced they really were that dark. “Had to be sure.” He pecked your lips. “Yeah?” You did the same. “Yeah.” He’s so close that every time his eyes closed and reopened, you felt his lashes fanning your cheeks. “And now?” He asked so hopefully, heart on the line as he waited on your answer. You wanted to make him wait, torture him a little, not tonight, tonight you were kind enough to put him out of his misery. “Now I want you.” You said. He could have punched the air with excitement.

You’re kissing again. Scrambling around, his body lowered on top of you, one hand resting on your cheek, the other grazing your hip bone. His body shuddered when you whimpered under the weight of him. You let your legs widen as he slipped between them, all before he lifted your thigh, depositing it safely around his waist. You prayed that he didn’t immediately feel the dampness in your shorts but you’re not the only one struggling.

His hard on rubbed into you, your lips parting with surprise. “Fuck.” He muttered, momentarily halting your make out session, the heat between your thighs overwhelming him. You sensed his embarrassment, his cheeks burning with it. “Me too.” You breathed. Lips pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose as your hand slipped between you, coming down to cup his bulge boldly through his shorts.

The groan he released is sinful, maybe even painful. He felt big. He felt impossibly big. He wouldn’t fit in your hand, maybe not even in the two of them. He thrust into your hand when he felt you touch him. It was his first instinct; he couldn’t fight it. “Shit, sorry.” You caught his lips, tugging his bottom one between your teeth, releasing it slowly. “Gonna move my hand, want you to do it again.” If he thought he was embarrassed at his neediness before, it was about to get a whole lot more mortifying.

Your hand moved away, he was grinding his hips down into you as you’d asked, and you felt the way his cock jumped into action. “Baby.” You panted. He’s sure his heart is going to explode, maybe his cock too, probably that first. “Say it again.” He needed it. “Baby.” You kissed him. He’s rocking his hips into you, you started rotating your own, rubbing yourself over his cock, hand moving out of the way. “Baby, baby, fuck.” He’s covered your lips with his, nose mashed up against you, you can’t breathe, you don’t even want to, you wouldn’t miss the feeling. All of this felt so much more important. “Feel so good.” You whine. He never would have thought you’d be so vocal. You didn’t seem like the type. Thought you’d be a bit of a brat maybe but not this, not confident and sexy and so sure of what you wanted. He could love that; he could love you.

“More, need more.” You’re eyes rolled back when he’s lifting your hips with both hands, pulling your core over him. His cock slipping through your folds through too many barriers of clothing. “Shit Ed.” You felt the sensation of fire burning into you, setting you alight. You’re dizzy and hot and you just felt so good against him. The friction of his shorts might have been frustrating, but it was also, so rewarding. It was such a good roughness against your clothed mound. “Are you?” He can’t even say it, too busy dragging you over his cock. “I’m, fuck, Eddie.” He doesn’t stop, not for a second, not for a beat. He makes you ride it out. He’s so stupidly proud of himself. He’d barely touched you and you’d come undone. You’d actually fucking came. “Fucking unreal for me.” He slowed himself down before he followed a similar path to destruction.

He’s pushing your hips back down, letting your body sink into the mattress, pulling away from you to catch a breath. “I can’t believe that.” Your hand floats through your hair combing it back. He’s resting back on his knees, still between your legs. “You’re so fucking hot.” His eyes don’t look anywhere but your face. Your shirt is half way up your chest, bare tits poking out for him to see and yet, he doesn’t look.

You can’t say you share the same sentiment. Your eyes raced to the outline of his erection in them grey basketball shorts. You drank in the sight before you and your teeth clamped down into your lower lip. He reached down to squeeze your thigh. “My eyes are up here.” He gestured with his index and middle finger. You smirked up at him. “Kind of wish they weren’t.” You didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah?” You nodded. Eyes falling back to his very, large problem that he now palmed through his clothing. Shit, even his own hand wouldn’t cover him.

“Gonna keep looking or do you feel like helping?” His voice was awfully steady for someone ready to come apart at the mere thought of your touch. “You want me to?” You’re not sure what you’re asking. “Need you to.” He said. You sat yourself up. “Gonna take this shirt off me first?” You looked up at him, eyes wider than he’d ever seen, somehow so innocent even though you were anything but. “Of course, I am.” His hands didn’t waste any time lifting the material off over your head. You felt the bite of a chill rush over you, your nipples hardening, perking up with it. “So, very, sexy.” He can’t believe his luck. You’re amazed that you don’t feel shy, being so exposed to him. Guess that was good, it felt natural, you felt safe.

“Gonna help you.” You warned, hands slipping down into his shorts. You gasped at the immediate contact with his bare skin. “No underwear.” He smirked down at you. “Fucking slut.” Your hand cupped him just like before, yeah, definitely needs more than one hand. “You love it.” He chanted “I do.” You confirmed, squeezing him hard. The rush of air that left his mouth, oh it made this all so worth it. You tried to be bolder, you took his length in your palm for the first time. You gripped him tight and moaned in unison. He moaned at the feeling of finding home in your soft touch. You moaned; at the way your hand can’t even wrap around him fully. He’s too thick, too girthy, there wasn’t enough of you to take it all.

“Do something.” He urged, forehead leaning on yours for stability more than anything else. “Ah right, that’s what I was doing.” You play as you sprang to action, your hand lifting to the throbbing head of his cock, letting the trickles of beaded cum roll into your palm before you can cover him in it using it whilst you twist your hand up and down his length. “Ohh, fuck.” It came out gravelly. He’d never thought much of hand jobs, said no to many throughout his life, never being worth the time, never feeling as good as his own hand. This though. You. Your hand. You touched him and he swore your hand was made to hold his cock. Even if that sounded ridiculous, there had to be some way of it being true because he felt so good. His cock was slick and hot, it glided through your grip with ease and your tightened fist on him, it was incredible.

You knew to tug him hard at the base, to loosen around his tip. To constantly use his pooling arousal to your advantage. You worked his cock better than anyone else could, maybe even better than him. You weren’t rushing, you didn’t wank him hard begging for it all to be over, getting bored of the feeling. No, you just touched him. Switching your pace. Listening to his hot little sounds. Paying attention to what made him twitch, what made him rut his hips into your palm. You loved touching him, you wanted to touch him forever, every which way you could.

He started fucking your hand. He’s not sure he can stop himself and you’re so turned on by it you actually moan. “What are you doing to me?“ He’d never felt like this before. You’d made him so weak. He was desperately thrusting into your fist like a pathetic little virgin, and you were moaning. He had to be making this up, you weren’t real, none of this could have been real. “Fuck Ed.” You’re soaked at the idea of it all, you even clenched down on fucking nothing, the thought of him inside you instead of just the palm of your hand, it’s too much to bear. “Need to fuck me.” You quicken your pace, your hand tugging at him desperately. “Fuck, fuck. Stop, you gotta stop.” He doesn’t want you to, God knows he doesn’t, but if you don’t, he’s gonna fucking bust all over your perfect little hand.

He forced your hand out of his shorts and you have the audacity to pout up at him when he does. “You’re something fucking else.” He pushed you back, your head drops happily onto your pillow. “Something good I hope.” You toyed with him, and he is about to lose it. “Take these off.” He tugged at your own shorts, and you didn’t budge. “Off.” He commands, climbing off the bed, feet hitting the cold wooden floor of the hotel room.

You shifted behind him, pulling your shorts and panties down your thighs, tossing the material to the general vicinity of your shirt. Your hands are once again in your hair, combing through it with nerves just eating away at you. You ached for him. Your thighs were squeezed so tightly shut you thought he might never pry them open again. You were on edge, literally dying there waiting. He’d dropped his shorts; they’d hit the ground quietly. He stepped out of them quickly, hand lifting to touch himself, he let out a quiet hiss when he did. He was so turned on, cock so tight and hot in his hand, he’d bury himself in you and never wish to leave.

He climbed back onto the bed, settling on his knees like he had before. His hand rolled delicately across his tip, soaking himself still, using his own arousal to ready himself for you. His cock had a wet sheen in the light. You thought it looked even more delicious now with a coating like that. Perhaps your legs would part after all. “You sure?” He thinks he knows your answer, but he’d hate himself if he didn’t check. This had all been so perfect, better than he could have ever imagined because God, his imagination wasn’t half as creative enough to make you up. You were far better than anyone he’d ever known. The more he knew you, the better you got. Each and every layer, prettier or wittier or more perfect. You must have been real. Real and a gift made just for him because you had him hook line and sinker. He was dumb to credit himself for thinking he imagined you a few moments ago.

“Fuck me.” You spoke. He shook his head. Leaning over you, tip throbbing hard when it breached your walls for the first time before making a heady retreat, running through your slick, wet, lips instead. “Can’t.” He said. Running his cock up and down, eyes flickering shut, throat drying with his pure fucking thirst for you. “Why not?” You furrowed your brow. He’s right there, all he had to do was enter you. You could just lift your hips and he’d slip his fat cock inside. “Can’t call this fucking, not when you feel this good.” You think you might have passed out when pushed inside of you. “Oh, fuck.” He covered your lips to catch your moan. He didn’t think about the fact he’d be sinking in further, bottoming out, pelvis to pelvis with you when he did.

Your legs wrapped around him so tightly your heels began to dig into his tasty, round backside. You fasten him in place intentionally. You needed to feel him. Needed to feel him in his entirety, pulsing inside you. He bit down on your shoulder till he tasted a metal zing of fresh blood, he’d apologise at a later date. For now, he needed it. You were sopping wet around him, engulfing his cock in a warm, tight sleeve. With each breath you took he slipped a little bit further inside. You felt so full you’d felt him bulging in your stomach, so far inside you it even hurt you.

“I need to move, gotta let me move.” He locked eyes with you before you nodded, loosening your legs, letting him withdraw his hips, pulling right back away from you, tip nearly leaving the crevice of your wetness. Then he pushed back in, all the way, hips against hips and you fucking moaned. You moaned so loud he thought he hurt you, ready to withdraw and panic at that thought. But then you lifted your hips to meet his. You meet his next thrust and then the next, and the next. You don’t let him do a damn thing without your involvement. You needed to be in this together because what’s the fucking point if you can’t give each other your all?

“You’re so wet, soaking me.” You can only sigh, you’re not sorry, he got you so damn good he ought to be proud. “So damn hot. Gonna need to change the fucking sheets.” He rambled on. His hands dig delicious bite marks into your hips. Yours place a similar attack atop his shoulders. “Feel unreal.” You captured his lips in a needy kiss, chest pushing up as your back arched involuntarily. “Very real, so fucking real.” You muttered. As your back arched further, Eddie found a place within you, a sensitive spot he angled into unexpectedly. A place you’d only ever touched yourself. You shook, and you clenched down on him, hard.

He’d be an idiot not to notice it. You were clamping down so much he worried he’d lose circulation all together. “You want me dead don’t you?” He slammed his hips down into you. “Won’t be happy till I’m not fit for anyone else, that it?” His chest flattened against yours, his cock reaching that angle even more intrusively than before and you’re about to scream for it.

He’s got so much pressure leaning against it you’re about to crumble and he doesn’t even know it. “Eddie.” You panicked, hands snaking into his hair, tugging his brown ringlets. He couldn’t get any closer to you and yet you needed it, wanted him covering you. “Fuck, you’re, fuck are you cumming?“ He leaned his head back, looking down into your eyes, you have tears brimming in them and he can’t believe it, he was so right. “Please, please don’t stop.” Your voice came out so weak, soft, precious, and broken and he thought you sounded like a needy little princess when you begged for him like that. “Anything, anything for you.” He meant it too.

His hand wrapped around your throat loosely and tenderly as he coaxed your second orgasm from you. Your scream caught in your throat. He kissed you hard, breathing life erratically back into you. The way you tightened around his cock has his eyes roll back into his skull, his teeth biting down hard on your plump, cherry lips. He’s so close to cumming himself, but he will not let himself go until you’ve done it first. He had to make it through. He had to feel the way you came around his dick for the first time. Needed it imbedded in his brain as the religious experience it certainly felt like it would be.

“Eddie, Eddie,” you’re not even aware you’re yelling his name out there. You just do it. That’s what gets him in the end. Your pretty little voice wrapping around his name, securing the idea that he was in fact the guy who’d made you crumble into a mess in these sheets, twice. It was all him. “Where, fuck, where do you-“ he can’t even say it, can’t get the words out. “In me, need it in me, please baby.”

He did as you asked, his hips pulsing into you, cock sputtering, leaking his hot cum inside you. You felt it all. Deep inside, covering you, damning you. You were claimed from the inside out. There wasn’t a single piece of you that wasn’t marked as his now. If you hadn’t felt full before, you certainly did now. His cum filling you entirely, anything his cock couldn’t previously reach was now pressured by him cum flooding inside you and it was so unbelievably good. You sighed heavily at the thought of it. “So, fucking good.” You muttered. Him filling you was just so erotic to you. He’d felt exactly the same because of course he did, he was made for you. He loved that you’d let him take you like that. It felt heavenly pouring himself into you, coating you in his colours. Pulling out might just be the hardest thing he’d ever have to do.

His body covered yours. He’s no strength to hold himself above you, but no way of pulling away just yet. You’d not minded his weight at all. You’d actually enjoyed it, felt comforted by it. Even if your bodies were sweat soaked and desperately in need of another shower, it felt nothing but perfect lying here a little longer. Your fingers massaged into his scalp, he hummed at the relief of your touch. His breathing slowed down, softly blowing over your chest where his head lay comfortably.

You decided you loved the sound of him breathing. You can’t explain exactly why that is, but it offered you some kind of comforting stimulation that you think you’d listen to happily for hours. The mere existence of him, being enough to soothe you. “So that, uh-“ he licked his bottom lip, wetting the dryness there. “That happened.” You heart leaped and you know he felt it. “Don’t make it weird.” You nearly begged. “I’m not making it weird.” You poked his head. “You’re making it weird.” You accused, poking him again. “Would you stop?”

He lifted his head this time to avoid another attack. Well fuck. If he thought you looked beautiful before, it had nothing on the way you looked now. You were flustered and tired, your eyes wet with tears and probably sweat and yet, gorgeous. “You’re staring.” He hated you. “I can’t stop.” He’s lying. He could, he just never wanted to. “What will people think?” You gasped. “How will we tell them?” He continued, following your train of thought like he’d conjured it himself.

“Well, what do we actually have to tell? You know, to get our story straight.” He knew that was your not-so-subtle way of asking what you were, after all of this, but he doesn’t mind it because he’d also liked to know. As cliché as it was. It really did happen that fast. “Well,” he rubbed your cheek with the back of his hand, watching as your face leaned into his touch. “Your family think we’re in love so, that’s kind of handled.” You laughed. “That you’re way of confessing your love for me?” You dig with a smile. “No.” Yes. But it was way too soon to verbalise that. Sure, you’d known him for a while, but this weekend was the closest you’d ever been. And yeah, he may have felt it in his bones, but he wasn’t crazy enough to admit it to you. Jesus Christ. “So, it’s just, everyone else.” He nodded, then repeated after you. “Everyone else.” Easier said than done.

“What if I uh, slip you another 200?” He rolled his eyes. Only you would ask that. “Oh, because I haven’t whored myself out enough?” You grinned. “Well, if the shoe fits baby.” He nudged your nose with his own. “No but seriously, what would 200 get me?” You tried to deadpan but the smile refused to leave you. “I’m refunding it by the way.” You feigned shock. “My money not good enough for you Munson?” He looked at you with a ‘you really asking me that?’ look on his face. Though technically, you hadn’t actually given the money to him yet. “Only asked for it because I knew it’d piss you off sweetheart.” That hadn’t surprised you at all. “I dragged my ass to the bank for nothing.” He thought he might howl with laughter.

“You got cash out?” There he goes, those chubby fucking cheeks, the crinkling eyes. “You actually withdrew 200 bucks for me?” You wanted the bed to swallow you whole. “I DON’T EXACTLY HAVE YOUR BANK DETAILS EDWARD!” You yelled and he laughed harder, nearly rolling off you all together until he remembered he was still very much inside of you. “I’m so fucking dumb.” You face palmed with the embarrassment of it all. “You kinda are.” He agreed. He knew you’d hate his lack of support. “I like em dumb though.” He also knew he deserved the flick you gave him. “We’ll get you to the bank tomorrow, don’t you worry babe.” This time you didn’t flick him. “Not going anywhere tomorrow.” You sighed, arms wrapping around him. His stomach fluttered when you held him like that. “Why, what you got planned?“ He nuzzled his face happily into your breast, his spare hand squishing the other nicely. “Gonna get my fucking money’s worth that’s what.”

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