#so I can’t back out of this stupid meeting between my back to back tests

[yearning-butch]

Everything is so much all of the time

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Walk The Line.

Carmen gets a little jealous. You don’t mind in the slightest.

roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. semi public antics.

word count - 2.5k

authors note - ask and you shall receive 😌. i’ll never get enough of roommate!carmy. i’ll be writing him forever. <3

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3

series masterlist. masterlist. inbox.

He’s a little out of his depth, admittedly.

The invitation had been slid under your front door, pretty handwriting on creamy paper.

“A… party?”

“Does it say party, Carmen?”

“No, it says ‘mixer.’ What the fuck is a mixer?”

You laugh, scrubbing a mark off the final dish in the sink before placing it down in the drying rack. Carmy is sat on the counter across the kitchen, reading the invite over and over.

“Seriously, babe. The fuck does mixer mean? So it isn’t a party?”

You dry your hands and make your way over to take the paper from him, eyes scanning over it carefully.

“A mixer is like… a get to know each other thing. It’s sort of like a party, I guess, but not really. Just a casual gathering type situation.”

“Sounds fucking stupid,” he grumbles.

You smack his shoulder, rolling your eyes.

“Lighten up, asshole. It could be fun.”

“Fun? You think having a mixer with all the neighbours from our building on a Friday night is gonna be fun?”

“I think it sounds like an incredible time. My ideal evening. I can’t wait.”

You can’t even pretend not to laugh, grabbing onto his thigh to keep yourself balanced. He puts his hands on your shoulders, trying to look serious, but the grin fighting its way up his cheeks gives him away.

“You really wanna go?”

“Carm, if it’s terrible, we’ll just lie and say we’ve got plans elsewhere. We’ll run away screaming if we need to. It might be good for us though, to meet our neighbours properly. It’s good to get to know them, just in case we ever need anything.”

“What, like a cup of sugar? What is this, the thirties?”

“When you’re testing recipes and fucking them all up, you might be grateful to be able to nip next door and borrow a cup of sugar.”

“I don’t fuck recipes up.”

“No? Then why were you yelling at a lavender and oat crème brûlée last week?”

“It was mocking me,” he grumbles under his breath, hanging his head.

You can’t help but laugh, moving closer to stand between his manspread legs where he still sits on the counter. You brush a piece of hair back from his forehead, tracing your index finger in a featherlight touch down the bridge of his nose. He looks down at you, eyes glued to yours.

“I know for a fact you don’t have anything else planned on Friday,” you whisper.

He rolls his eyes but leans into your touch anyway, where you’re still tracing along the features of his face.

“You promise we can leave if it’s terrible?”

“We literally live in this building. We can just walk up the stairs and be home.”

He huffs, but relents.

“Fine. But please don’t leave me alone with all of the middle aged moms. They love me.”

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” you giggle, leaning in to rest your head on his chest. His arms encircle you, pulling you as close as he can.

Is this scene too intimate for roommates? Without a doubt.

Do either of you care? Not in the slightest.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

It’s not as bad as he thought it’d be.

The middle aged moms have pulled through, actually. The lobby is decorated with fairy lights, tables covered in alcohol set up against the walls. Everyone has a drink in their hand, chatting and mingling amongst themselves.

You and Carmen walk downstairs a little late. He’d finished his shift and run home to shower and make himself look semi presentable before facing the neighbours.

“We need a signal,” he says suddenly, right as you reach the staircase. “In case of emergencies.”

“Pat your head.”

“Real subtle.”

“It doesn’t need to be subtle, it needs to be noticeable for me.”

“Fine,” he mutters, bumping his shoulder into yours. “Don’t leave me alone with that Erica lady. She scares me.”

“Yes sir,” you mock salute, slipping your hand into his momentarily. “You’ll be fine, Carmen. Like I said, we’ll just leave if it’s awful.”

It’s not awful, actually. It’s quite fun.

It’s nice to get to know the people in your building, seeing as you have lived there for a couple of years now. Carmen has been there even longer.

“Excuse me, sweetheart?”

You turn around to be met with an old lady, leaning carefully on her cane.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I’m Dorothy. I live in 2B, and I just had to tell you that you look beautiful in your dress.”

You smile, pulling out a chair for her, which she takes gladly. You sit down next to her, spotting Carmy chatting with a couple of guys across the room.

“Thank you so much!”

You introduce yourself, telling her your name and apartment number.

“Ah yes,” she hums in recognition. “You live with your boyfriend who has all the tattoos.”

You almost choke on your drink.

“We’re just roommates,” you say eventually. “But yes, that’s him.”

“Oh, my apologies. I just assumed.”

You’re curious, suddenly. You know you shouldn’t be, but you can’t help yourself.

“Can I ask? Why you… thought we were dating?”

She chuckles knowingly before placing a hand on your knee.

“Honey, he’s got a hand on you at all times. He looks at you like you are the sun. Every time you walk past my window, you’re both laughing. Sounds like love to me.”

Her bluntness is refreshing, if not a little intimidating. No one will say it how it is more than a little old lady who can’t mind her business.

“We, uh… we’re close. He’s a good roommate. A good friend.”

She doesn’t look convinced in the slightest, chuckling as she pats your leg.

“Uh huh. That’s what I said about my husband - real good friend. We’ve been married 58 years.”

You smile, shaking your head.

“Is he here with you?”

“He’s upstairs. He can’t really leave the apartment, these days.”

“You know, if you ever need anything, me and Carmen would be happy to help.”

“No, sweetheart, I couldn’t ask you to-”

“-you’re not asking me, I’m offering. Carmen is an award winning chef at one of the best restaurants in this city. He’d be more than happy to make a meal or two when needed. And I can pick you guys up stuff from the grocery store when I go, too.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, grabbing your hand in her frail one. “You’re good kids, you two.”

You grin at her, squeezing her hand gently.

“You know where I am, if you need me.”

She nods, standing up carefully.

“I’m going to go see if that handsome Jeremy will come and fix my shower for me. He did promise.”

You laugh, watching as she makes a beeline for one of the dads stood in a huddle. You catch eyes with Carmy, who’s still chatting away with a few of the younger guys. He winks at you, all cheeky and carefree, and you can’t help but flush, heat prickling across your skin. You shake your head, smiling, winking back.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on your bicep. You spin sideways, to be met with the sight of a very handsome man. Dark hair, big brown eyes, tall - he looks slightly like a movie star you can’t quite remember the name of. You crane your neck to meet his gaze, smiling softly.

He holds out his hand to introduce himself.

“Hi, I’m Daniel.”

You tell him your name, trying to ignore how his hand engulfs yours.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You laugh, shaking your head.

“Have you lived here long? Think I’d remember a face like yours.”

Now he shakes his head.

“A month, maybe. I live in 6C. I’ve been working a lot, so haven’t had any time for introductions.”

“Ah. What do you do?”

“I’m a model.”

Of course he is.

“What do you do?”

As you start to tell him, his eyes fix on yours, not leaving for a moment. He listens carefully, both of you blocking out the noise and focusing on each other.

Turns out, Daniel is good company. The two of you find a spot in the corner, away from the noise and the wine drunk moms. The two of you laugh, joke, and talk about Chicago as if you’re old friends. Time slips away from you easily, conversation flowing with minimal effort.

“I don’t want to leave, trust me… but I have a super early call time tomorrow. If you wanted, we could grab a drink sometime, somewhere that’s not our buildings lobby?”

You laugh, nodding.

“Yeah, I’d like that. It was nice to meet you, Daniel.”

“You too. Here,” he says, handing you a small business card with his number on, “text me.”

“I might do just that,” you tease as he walks away grinning.

You’re on your way to grab another drink when a hand slinks around your wrist.

“Hi, Carmen.”

You don’t even have to turn to know who it is, recognising the feeling of his calloused hand against your soft skin.

“Where’s your friend gone?” he all but grumbles.

“He’s gone home, got to be up early for work.”

“Haven’t we all.”

“Ooo, okay Mr Attitude. You’re not having a good night? You didn’t give me the signal.”

“Would you have noticed if I did?”

You spin around to face him properly now.

“Yes, I would have. Because we’re in a tiny fucking lobby and not a football stadium, Carmen.”

He huffs.

“Didn’t think you’d notice if the building fell down, the way you were lost in his eyes.”

“I know it’s a foreign concept to you, Carmen, but eye contact is actually a very important part of conversation. Try it some time.”

Carmy rolls his eyes, grip on your wrist tightening.

“Come on,” he mumbles. “Wanna show you something.”

He practically drags you up the stairs, and up some more, and up some more. Eventually, you reach the roof.

The sun is just setting, casting the city in a warm orange glow. Everything is so calm, so peaceful, so serene. It’s beautiful.

You’re admiring the view when suddenly your feet are no longer on the ground. Carmy has you over his shoulder, carrying you across the rooftop to the brick wall.

“The fuck are you doing?” you cry as he finally puts you down.

He smashes his lips to yours, choosing to shut you up rather than answer you. You kiss back eagerly, confused but not disappointed at the turn in events. Slipping your hands into his hair, you tug him into you, groaning as he grabs at your ass.

“Carmen,” you breathe, “why don’t we just go home?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he mumbles against your neck, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. When he bites down, you smack his shoulder.

“No marks, asshole. The fuck is up with you?”

Again, he says nothing, just slips his hand under your dress to run his fingers over your underwear. You part your legs instantly, leaning back into the wall to steady yourself.

“Carmen, someone’s gonna see if they come up here.”

“Well then you better come quickly.”

He slips your panties to the side, running his fingers through your wet heat. You keen, knees buckling already.

“Oh baby,” he chuckles. “This all for Daniel?”

It all clicks for you suddenly.

“That’s what-” you choke as he slides a finger into you. “That’s what - fuck - has you so riled up? Daniel?”

“Don’t say his name when I’m knuckle deep, baby. It’s rude.”

You attempt to scoff, but it comes out as more of a moan when he presses his thumb to your clit, circling carefully.

“Am I not giving you what you need, honey? Is that it? Greedy girl just wants more, so she looks elsewhere to get it?”

“No,” you justify quickly. “You know that’s not true.”

“If you can still form sentences, I’m clearly doing something wrong.”

He slips a second finger in, curling them exactly the way he knows you like.

“Carm.”

“He couldn’t make you feel like this, babe. You and I both know it.”

You’re nodding, fingers gripping his shirt tightly as if you’re scared he’s going to walk away. His lips press into your neck again, nipping along the expanse of skin.

“Say it.”

“Hmm?”

You’re dazed, mind hazy with Carmen Carmen Carmen Carmen Carmen.

“Say. It.”

He punctuates his words by curling his fingers harshly. You’re seeing stars, legs giving out.

“He - he… fuck, Carmen, please.”

“So close, honey. Try again.”

You know he won’t relent. He never does, when he’s in a mood. You have to just give him what he wants.

“He couldn’t make me feel this good, Carm. It’s all for you, only you.”

“Good girl. Knew you could do it.”

With that, he speeds up his fingers, his other arm snaking around your back to keep you standing upright.

“Give it to me, baby. Know you want to. That’s it, atta girl.”

“Come for me, there we go. Can feel you.”

“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl. So pretty like this.”

You fall over the edge, clenching like a vice around his fingers as you throw your head back. There’s a sheen of sweat coating your skin, chest heaving with every breath you take. Your vision goes white for a second, gripping onto Carmy’s biceps for dear life.

You rest your forehead against his chest, panting as you try to recover.

“Jealous Carmen is kinda mean,” you mumble into his shirt.

He laughs, wrapping his arms around you.

“You know I didn’t mean it, right? You’re free to date whoever you want. You could do a lot worse than Daniel the hot supermodel.”

You pull back, looking at him carefully.

“I know. I just… I don’t know if I’ll go. Seems a bit unfair to date him when my mind is on someone else.”

You both know exactly who you mean. You both also know that tipsy on a rooftop is not the place to have that conversation.

“Did you ever master the lavender crème brûlée?”

He chuckles, not expecting the sudden change in subject.

“Yes, I did.”

“Do we have any left?”

“We don’t. But I did make chocolate soufflé this afternoon, if that’ll satisfy your sweet tooth.”

“Fuck, yes,” you grin, leaning in to kiss him tenderly.

“I’ll make you a crème brûlée in work tomorrow. Promise.”

“Will you make two extras?”

He quirks a brow in confusion, so you continue.

“We’ve got two elderly neighbours. They’re not very mobile, so I said we’d drop stuff off every now and again.”

He smiles at you, all soft and melted.

“Of course. That heart of yours is too big for your chest, you know.”

You take hold of his hand, placing it there.

“Only sometimes.”

He kisses you again before throwing an arm over your shoulders.

“Let’s go eat chocolate soufflés and drink the rest of that wine you bought.”

“You’re a mind reader,” you laugh, making your way downstairs.

Maybe he is, you think later. You don’t mind in the slightest.

[cheriladycl01]

Cupid and Me - Yuki Tsunoda x ColombianOlympicArchery! Reader

Plot: Yuki loves watching archery… and of course he supports the Japanese Team, however he can’t help being entranced by the Colombian Lady, and he thinks it’s time to become Cupid himself even though your aim is way better!

Yuki was always into sports, not just karting going into F1 but he loved Golf, Football, Swimming, he loved it all. So when AlphaTauri gave him the chance to go and watch the summer Olympics for a few days in the off season as a means for content he was so excited to be a part of it.

He started off his day watching a Basketball match. He sat watching happily to see who would win between Finland and China.

The atmosphere was always so incredible and the amount of different fans you would that had travelled half way across the world just to see these sports and people compete for their country was incredible.

The next place he was to go to, was Archery. He was extremely excited, knowing the people he’d be rooting for were good at these kinds of sports that required that extra level of intellect and precision.

While he held up his Japanese flag for the woman who currently held the highest score of the match, having a bullseye and a few 8’s and 9’s his gaze wondered over to you, who was just about to start.

You were tall, fierce and your sleek dark hair up in a claw clip keeping it in place out of your face.

Now Yuki didn’t believe in love at first sight but when he saw you pull back the now and line it up close to your nose to get the perfect shot, and he saw you immediately hit a 9 and celebrate in a loud and almost boisterous manner he couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter.

It was stupid really, he was there in the stands waving a Japanese flag to support his own country and his people, but you stood there with the Colombian flag on the back of your team gear along with your name and number he couldn’t help it.

As the game went on, he found himself learning more about you, from the way you talked to the other contenders with a bright smile on your face, or nodding your head while your trainer chatted your ear of no doubt about strategy and where you were lacking, not that Yuki thought you were, you were storming your contestants.

“Can I get a picture with the winner, I think it’ll be good for content?” He asked once it was obvious you were going to be the winner.

“Yea, let’s pray the Japanese team pull through so you can hold the flag up together but that Colombian girl, Y/N is the Archer himself!” She exclaims seeing Y/N pull another bullseye.

You ended up winning gold, a Japanese girl called Ai and an American called April.

“Y/N there’s someone who wants to take a picture with you and meet you” you trainer says as you finish your celebrations holding up the other girls flags while they had pictures with their flowers before they held up yours.

“Oh yeah who is it!” You smile, wondering if it was a fan or another celebrity.

“It’s Yuki Tsunoda? He’s a Japanese F1 driver!” She answers and you nod, being sort of familiar with the popular driving sport.

“Sure, where is he! Send him my way!” You grinned excited to meet another athlete.

Yuki came in and you were shocked to see how short he was, around 5’2 whereas you were around 5’7. But he was cutely pocked sized - how on Earth was he an F1 driver.

You were in thought as he shyly came up to you. Be polite, great him in his own language.

“Kon'nichiwa” you test, with a polite bow. You’d learnt greetings in most languages, as an Olympian it was always in your mind that you should hold the upmost respect to your competitors.

“Oh, you speak Japanese?” He asks with an even shyer smile on his face.

“Jakkan” you grin indicating that you only knew a little bit of the language, with a wolffish type of smile that had Yuki’s face bursting with Red as he couldn’t take his gaze from you and how captivating you were.

“Okay, how about that photo?” The Alphatauri manager asks directing you to to stand next to each other.

“Hey, you want to wear my medal?” You’d asked him, another grin on your face as you stated to take it off from around you next.

“No no no. It’s yours!” He cries as if it’s the most outrageous thing ever, but you stop him and place it around his neck! In the photo you have your arm around his shoulder your opposite hand pointing to the medal with your mouth open in an excited way.

Yuki is all smiles and before you know it, the managers have left the pair of you alone and your both talking.

He’s asking you about how you got into archery and your talking about how he got into F1 and how it feels to drive a car as quickly as that, and when you both delve a little deeper you find the feels of releasing the arrow and launching as the lights go out isn’t too dissimilar.

“You want to join me for dinner?” You ask boldly, not that it was a scary situation for you, you were normally quiet upfront when it came to things like this so it didn’t feel too odd.

“Yes, I think I’d really enjoy that!” He smiled.

And that was the start of a beautiful new relationship formed through observation, love at first sight and a little help in hand from Cupid.

y/user

Liked by yukitsunoda0511 and alphatauri

y/user: Met a guy, became Cupid 💘 made him fall in love with me 😉

Tagged 1 Person

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yukitsunoda0511: I tried to be Cupid first - but her aim is too good!

-> y/user: I’m just too appealing! Love you Yuki 🥰

fan1: omggggg the height difference between them is just so cute!

pierregasly: Yuki my friend, you fell hard! But you picked a good one!

alphatauri: New WAG Alert! We love you Y/N!

fan2: oh she’s the one … I know it - that is the look of love!

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Back at it again 🇨🇴 ¡Buenos Días Mis Amigas!

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[st-el-la-luna]

Task Force 141 + König when you have a subtle panic attack

Thanks for being my first request (and my 69th follower)

Did this headcanon style, just testing things out, y'know?

Captain John Price

° Price is probably the best choice, honestly

° He’s older, worked with soldiers, he’s no stranger to panic attacks

° “You alright, love?” he asks, tenderly, his eyes soft with affection

° He’ll take your hand and rub gentle circles on the back of your hand

° If you’re in a big crowd, say at a party or something, or even just walking through a busy street, and become unsettled, Price is the type to gently herd you towards the nearest wall

° He’ll put himself between you and the crowd, leaning in close to whisper in your ear

° “Hey, it’s okay darling. Just breathe. I’m here.”

° He takes your hand and sets it over his heart so you can feel his heartbeat

° Tells you to focus on him, his breathing as he rests his forehead against yours

° Once you’ve calmed, he presses a little kiss to the tip of your nose and offers you a smile

° “Come on, let’s go, yeah?”

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley

° If you think Ghost doesn’t know immediately when something puts you on edge, then what do you know? Because you must be a stupid fuck to be blind to the fact that this man would be the most observant, intuitive person when it comes to you

° He notices everything, reads you like a book

° A children’s book. Easily and with a gentle sort of fondness

° He won’t say anything outwardly, he’s not one for words (he doesn’t want anyone knowing he cares)

° Everyone knows

° He’ll stand right behind you, arms crossed over his chest, as he stares at whoever's making you uncomfortable

° If you’re in a conversation that’s making you uncomfortable or a situation that you’re easily able to leave, he will lead you away, making an excuse for you if he must

° His excuses are complete bullshit, but no one’s going to call him out on that

° “Yeah, sorry. We have to go. Need to walk the dog.”

“You have a cat”

“Yeah, and the cat’s name is The Dog. Problem?”

“No.”

“Yeah, ‘s what I thought.”

Sergeant Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

° No offense to Soap, but he wouldn’t be… great?

° It’s not that he wouldn’t care, no, no, he cares. Soap cares a lot. Too much, even

° But Johnny is, at his core, a people person, so he can't quite understand your position

° He’s likely not to notice your discomfort at first, excited to meet and talk to new people

° Once he does notice though, oh boy is he going to make up for it

° If you’re chewing your lip, he’s quick to put an end to that with a kiss; “Och, don’t you know? 'tis my job to bite those lips raw, love.”

° If you’re picking at your nails, tugging at your hair, he’ll take your hand in his; “Aye, if you want something to do with your hands… I’m right here.”

° Despite being a people-loving extrovert, he is absolutely willing to leave if you really can’t be there any more

° He’ll treat you nice and soft, make you forget all about all of your worries

° He’s the type to cross the room if he sees you getting uncomfortable. One second you can barely see him through the crowd. The next, he’s standing right behind you, arms around your middle

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

° Aside from Price, Gaz is your next best bet

° Gentle and sympathetic, he’ll take your hand and give it a little kiss

° “Alright?”

° His rich eyes empathetic as he meets your gaze, and just like that everything but Gaz fades from your mind

° Gaz will set her hand on your knee, not to get it to stop bouncing, no, he recognizes that it calms you. His hand on your knee is more of a gentle, wordless, reminder of his presence

° If you’re in a situation you can’t just leave, one where physical touch isn’t an option, he’ll shoot you a knowing look

° Speaking with his eyes, “it’s okay. You’re okay. Everything’s going to be okay”

° He’ll take you away from the situation if he can, back home or to a different room or a park

° Someplace quiet and safe

° He’ll cater to you, bringing you a blanket, snacks and a drink. Then, he’ll cuddle with you

° And don’t you dare try to apoloigize, he won’t hear any of it

Colonel Konig

° Simultaneously the best and the worst

° He has anxiety, he has experience with panic attacks!

° And while don't think his anxiety is the sort of "uwu shy bean" kind some people portray him with (see my thoughts on his anxiety/behaviour here!) He does still have anxiety- crowds and new people freak him out too! Though he may show it in a different way

° In situations of stress, his military training kicks in- the anxiety borne adrenaline making him on edge and attentive

° He keys into your discomfort very quick. Doesn't mean he knows what to do about it Will probably stress a bit about wanting to something to help, but not knowing what The best thing to do is probably for you two to comfort each other

° He's not big on PDA (He's a grown man, a Colonel, he's above those things {secretly it makes him melt}) but an easy way for both of you to calm is to link pinkies, or for you to hold his pinky

° It's not in your face but it's enough to know that you're both there, that you're going to be okay

° He'll let you to play with his sleeve, or his gloves, or his bracelet or his watch

° He may start, once he’s comfortable enough, or if he’s nervous enough, he may do the same. Most commonly, he will pinch one of your fingers between two of his and sort of just wiggle it around

° Think someone waving out those metal sheets to make a whomplewoomblewoom sound

° He’ll do his best to get you out of the situation, not afraid to throw his rank around, or use his imposing stature to do so

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Masterlist

[imaginedisish]

how do you sleep? (Ben Solo x fem!reader)

Part 1: We'll Never Have Sex

A/N: Hey guys!! So here is the first part of my Ben Solo x fem!reader fic. It is going to be told in non-chronological order, and every single part can be read as a one-shot! The overall series is based on "how do you sleep?" by LCD Soundsystem, but this particular part is based on "We'll Never Have Sex" by Leith Ross. I hope you guys enjoy!!!

Summary: After a lifetime of pining and yearning between you and Ben while training with Luke, things finally come to a head. (Series takes place over the year before Ben turns to the dark side, and then the aftermath of that).

Warnings: SMUT, fingering (f!receiving), so 18+, obviously canon divergence, all chapters can be read as a one shot with no context, series warning for canon typical violence, cursing, probably poorly proofread bc I only proofread once, praise kink...

Word Count: 2,511

Rain ruthlessly patters against the roof of the tent, threatening to leak through with each drop that came crashing down. You and Ben lay across from each other, a fire separating you, crackling in the center. You silently wish you were closer to him. You wish you could feel his calloused fingertips threading softly with your own. Maybe his hands would find their way to your waist, gently exploring your-

No. You can’t think like this, you’re not allowed to, never have been and never will be. You weren’t meant to get to have sex, married, to settle down, to have attachments of any kind. You were a Jedi, first, foremost, and only. 

But could love be that bad? Would being with Ben be so insurmountably terrible that it would corrupt both of you and bring disorder to the galaxy? Master Skywalker had told you it would, that an attachment of any kind would disrupt your training and your entire way of being. That notion had lost its meaning for you, and seemingly contradicted itself time and time again. If loving Ben was so horrific, why was it the only thing that made sense? 

“You okay?” He mutters, noticing that your eyes are glued to the fire, that stupid fire that stood in the way of being close to him. 

You mumble a yes in response, your mind far too clouded and nervous to say anything else. You were too busy convincing yourself that whatever bond you had with Ben defined the word yearn. You had known him your entire life, both having been trained by Luke practically since birth. And for as long as you could remember, you loved Ben Solo. 

And he loved you. 

But you held back, at least for as long as you could. As teenagers he had slipped up, kissed you while you had been sparring in the woods, far, far away from Luke. He had won the sparring match with your back to a tree, and he kissed you. 

Oh, you kissed me just to kiss me

Not to take me home

It was simple, it was sweetness

It was good to know

You talked about it once, and never again. You decided to hide it, to stuff the memory down, deep down where no one would ever be able to find it. Hiding wasn’t enough, it never was. You couldn’t forget it. Even now you dream of the taste of his lips on yours. You wish you could taste them now.

“You sure you’re okay?” His voice cuts through your thoughts, forcing you back to reality. He’s sat up now, looking down at you over the fire. 

You sit up too, forcing your gaze into the flames. “Yeah, I’ll be alright.” It was Master Skywalker’s fault for putting you and Ben on missions together, for keeping you two so close. He had to know how the two of you felt about each other. It was like some soul crushing test, some obstacle he expected you two to jump over and come out the other side stronger Jedi. 

He couldn’t have been more wrong. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last mistake a Skywalker made. 

“Do you…” He paused, waiting for your gaze to meet his. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes lock. “Do you wanna come over here?” He asks. He tilts his head to the side, searching for your response in your face before you can think of something to say. 

Say no, You think to yourself. Bad idea. Bad, terrible, awful idea. But your thoughts don’t seem to communicate with the rest of your body. You’re already standing up, walking around the fire, and sitting down on the edge of his cot, facing away from him. 

Ben rests a warm hand on your lower back, his thumb tracing circles and stars along your spine. It feels good, comforting – so it can’t be bad. You didn’t feel any evil bubbling up in your stomach, no pull into the darkness like had been foretold and prophesied. 

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” Ben asks, there’s a smirk in his voice. You could hear it from a mile away. You turn your head to look down at him, and there it was, the cocky smirk. The second he sees the pain contorting your face, it slips away. You want it to come back.

You smile softly, reassuring him that everything was fine. “It’s just the nightmares.” It wasn’t a lie. They had certainly come back. You had dozed off a few minutes ago, and there they were. You weren’t going to fall back to sleep, not without him.

Ben responds by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you down onto the cot. You stretch out a bit, letting yourself get pulled under the current of whatever was about to happen. The loneliness was too much; being without him was too much. And those – of course – were the real issues, the real sickness that was plaguing you. 

You and Ben knew loneliness too well, far better than any being ever should. 

Having someone this close kept that sinking alone feeling at bay; trapped it in some deep, dark, unintelligible, inaccessible corner far out of your mind’s reach. The feeling of his arms holding you tightly in place dispersed it, decimated it, fragmented it into pieces that simply could not be put back together, as if they had never been part of a whole to begin with. 

You’ve never had someone this close for this long. You’ve never gone this long without that alone feeling nipping at your skin and cursing in your face. And yet, it had been silenced. It wasn’t just because of a someone. He silenced it. And you knew that he was the only one who could. No, this couldn’t have just been anyone. It had to be him. 

And only him. 

“Ben,” You whisper. He squeezes your hip lightly in response. The feeling sends a ripple of chills down your spine. 

You don’t know exactly how long it’s been like this, standing on the ledge of a building neither of you should jump off from. You lost track of the time a few years ago. But you certainly never lost track of him. 

He squeezes your hip again, his lips suddenly sinking against your neck. You swallow the heavy lump in your throat as his hips push against yours. You jump, I jump, You think to yourself as he presses open-mouthed kisses up to your jaw, his body slowly shifting so that he’s above you. You let yourself fall onto your back, staring up at him. 

It was so quick, so easy to melt under his touch. It was too easy, for both of you, to give into the thing that had connected you for years. It was too simple to get to where you are now for it to ever be bad, to be the start of another war. 

The words slip from your lips. “I think I love you…” But you didn’t think. There was no thinking about this sort of thing, especially with Ben. That think came from your nerves, from that part of you adroitly trained to push him and everything else away. You didn’t want this to go past think. Think sits in limbo, unsure of its position, suspended in fluidity and nonsense. 

“Think?” Ben enunciates each letter, as if to question each sign’s meaning. But the smirk on his face tells you he’s much less serious than that, and that he knows your intention is far more serious than that think. 

You clear your throat, but the anxious feeling continues climbing up your esophagus. “Yeah…” You trail off, failing to seem aloof. “I think I-,”

“I know.” The thunder outside attempts to rudely interrupt the crackle of the fire and the finality of his words, but you hear them all the same. 

“Know what?” You question as the tips of his fingers graze the sides of your neck, slowly and gently wrapping around, as if to hold you in place. 

There’s no nervousness etched across his forehead as those perfect lips of his part. His brows aren’t furrowed, he doesn’t clear his throat. That smirk still tugs on his lips, even more so in his eyes, begging to be stretched into a smile. He’s cocky – but sweet – because he knows you’re terrified beyond belief. He’s more comfortable crossing this line than you are.

He was made to cross lines. “I know I love you.” And he means it. He means it in a way that speaks for you too, in a way that takes your think and transforms it into something greater. It was permanent, static, steadfast. A know, not a think. 

Rain pounds violently against the roof and you’re almost thankful for it. It keeps your words from leaking outside and into unaccepting ears. The ears that you and Ben had sworn your life to, your being to, your duty to. You were consciously breaking that oath, that code, that order that you had lived by for as long as you could remember. 

Part of you wants to scream, How dare you? How dare you cross the man who taught you everything, gave you everything? But what if that everything wasn’t as important as what Ben was, as that know had suddenly become? 

You know the answer, you’ve known it for years, before this moment, before he kissed you against that tree. You know the answer every time you see his smile, those eyes. You know when you hear his voice, when you feel his hand at your back when you’re being reprimanded by Skywalker. And he knows it too. He’s known longer than you have. 

Never mind crossing the line, it’s gone now, as if it was never there to begin with.

His lips press fervently against yours, already begging for more. He fits perfectly there, above you, your bottom lip skimming against his teeth, being bruised and imprinted with each hungry kiss. 

He pulls away for a second, his chest rising and falling somehow faster than your own. You wonder if he can hear your heart beating out of your chest, the sound drumming violently against your own ears. His hands unclasp your throat, roaming down your body, exploring each curve and corner before resting at the hem of your shorts. 

“Wanted you,” He pauses, his fingers hooking under the waistband. “For so long.” He finishes, his lips finding yours again. “So fucking long.” 

“B-Ben,” You’re stumbling around your words, and yet your mind has never felt more clear, more free. “Need you, please.” It’s a beg, a whine. 

His lips part from yours for just a second to pull your shorts and panties down. “Always needed you,” He says as his right hand drifts slowly down your stomach and in between your thighs. He spreads your legs and finds your clit before two of his fingers move further down. “So wet for me,” He says in between the gasps that echoed in the air. 

“B-Ben,” You whimper, suddenly remembering once again that you quite literally have never had anyone this close before. “I-I’ve nev-,”

“I know,” He whispers, his voice filled with lust, even deeper than normal. His dark hair falls against your forehead. “I’ve got you.” His fingers move back to your clit, circling slowly at first, gradually getting faster until all you can do is dig your nails into his shoulders. 

“F-fuck,” You curse. He presses harder against your core. “Need you, Ben,” You beg, all breathy and carelessly loud. 

Ben rests his forehead against yours, his fingers flicking at your clit, his other hand coming up and under your tank top. You have no bra underneath, something he couldn’t help noticing before. He gently rolls a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, reveling in the way you feel against him. 

He wanted you, needed you, just as much as you wanted and needed him. 

His palm glides across your chest, making sure to do the same to the other side before swiftly pulling your top up and over your head, discarding it somewhere on the floor. You don’t care if it lands in the fire. You wanted it to burn. 

“Doing so good for me,” He whispers, his lips sucking against your neck now. “Such a good girl.” 

You feel yourself clench around nothing, fluttering as Ben’s fingers refuse to let up. “I’m s-so close,” You choke, struggling to catch your breath. You could feel that familiar feeling building up in your stomach, heat spreading like a wildfire across your skin and every inch of your body. “Ben,” You recklessly call out. “I’m gonna-,”

“That’s it,” He coos, his fingers still working at your core. “Come on my fingers.” And just like that, white heat, stars, the cliché tension snapping, all of it was true. With him, that’s exactly what it felt like. 

He doesn’t stop right away, his fingers slowing down a bit before dipping down to your entrance, collecting your slick bringing them up to his lips. His fingers disappear into his mouth, sucking gently before he pulls them out. The feeling at your core immediately sparks again. You want more, need more. 

“Ben!” Your heart pangs in your chest at the shout of a familiar voice. FUCK. “Ben!” The voice yells again, outside the tent. Your eyes widen in fear. Panic fills your chest, and Ben springs up and out of the cot, hoping to get outside the tent before the voice found its way inside. 

Ben smiles at you as he stands at the entrance of the tent. You smile back, but you’re freaking out on the inside. What if Luke hadn’t called Ben’s name? What would’ve happened if he had simply come in and caught you? Ben can tell that you’re uneasy by the way your nose scrunches up, eyebrows furrowed tightly. And yet, you don’t regret a thing. How could you? 

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” He whispers, grabbing the cloth door to the tent with his hand. “We’ll figure it out…” He trails off, looking towards the door for a second before his gaze finds yours again. “I’d do anything for you, I mean it.” His words are so final, so permanent, the exact thing you had been afraid of. 

But not anymore. 

“I know I love you.” The words fall from your mouth with ease this time. You can hear Master Skywalker’s footsteps growing closer to the tent.

Ben smiles, his cheeks flushing just a touch, like someone had pinched his cheeks ever-so-slightly to remind him of how handsome he was. “I know I love you,” He says back before squeezing out of the tent so his uncle wouldn’t see the evidence of creed that had been broken and the attachment that had been consummated.

What the fuck were you going to do?

Depollute me, gentle angel

And I'll feel the sickness less and less

Come and kiss me, pretty baby

Like we'll never have sex

[h0neylevi]

apparently all i can do lately is repost my old work. here's another one from a while back that I liked

tw: smoking, drinking, alcohol, university AU, gn!reader

Looking around the cramped living room of Erwin’s three bedroom apartment, you had to hand it to Hange for putting together such a successful party. 

A sea of people occupied every possible inch of the tiny, well-kept living room. In one of each person’s hands were cups—red ones for people who were taken and green ones for people who were single—and the other was cuffed to the hand of someone else attending the party.

The point, Hange had quickly explained, was to get people out of their comfort zones. Meet new people that they might otherwise not approach. Hange had at least been sensible enough to link the people with green cups together. Looking around the crowd, it looked like most of the people with red cups were tethered to their significant others. 

You wonder for a moment if Hange had put any thought into who was cuffed to who, if they thought them compatible in some way or if it was randomized. Most people seemed to be getting along just fine either way. Only your partner for the night just happened to be the most unapproachable person on Sina University’s campus.

It was your own fault for thinking that you could tell Hange anything in confidence, much less that you had been admiring Levi Ackerman from afar for the last two semesters. He was a friend of theirs, you knew, but up until now he never showed up to any of the small parties that Hange loved to throw so often.

You don’t know why he’s here now. And when the cool metal clamped down on both of your wrists and he’d glared at you like an angry bull seeing red, you’d been too afraid to ask.

“This is stupid.” Half-heartedly, he had tugged on the cuffs as if to test their durability. “You didn’t tell me you’d be pulling this shit when I agreed to stop by, Hange.”

Your friend had just shrugged off his ire. “Yeah, well you would have backed out if I told you.”

Now you’re sitting on the cramped sofa, surrounded by a few different faces, some familiar and some not. Levi is sitting on your left, looking bored between taking sips in the green cup that Hange had forced into his open hand.

Thankfully someone that you do know, Erwin Smith, sits immediately to your right. He greeted you immediately when you first sat down, giving you a small wave with the hand clutching a red cup. His girlfriend, Marie, had offered you a smile from her place next to him.

Hange and Moblit are also sitting together in the immediate circle around the seating area, but everyone else seems to be new to the university. They each rattle off their names and majors over the beat of the music, prompting everyone else to do the same.

Despite never having talked to Levi in the four classes you’ve taken together, you’ve observed enough to know that he generally hates introductions. He clearly isn’t having a good time, with you or with the party as a whole.

So to offer him an easy solution, you lean over enough to speak over the music.

“Hange told me that the penalty for breaking the link is to take a shot.” You emphasize your words by lifting your cuffed hand. He turns to you, looking surprised but doesn’t say anything. “If you want to—“

But he’s already rising to his feet. “Come on.”

You can’t help how much it stings, how easily he’s willing to give up without making an attempt to get to know you. But that was part of the reason you’d never introduced yourself to him in the last several months. He always put off a mood that said he’d rather not be bothered.

He leads you through the crowd, but when you realize that he isn’t headed for the kitchen where all of the alcohol is kept, you pull back. He stops and turns, eyebrows raised in question.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

He gives you a bored look. “I want to go outside.”

Indeed, you look to find that he is walking in the direction of the small balcony.

“It’s cold,” you borderline whine next to him, which oddly makes the corner of his lips lift into a smile.

With one brow quirked, he challenges you. “Take a shot then.”

If he isn’t willing to, then you’re not about to give in either. You straighten your shoulders. “No.”

He gives the cuffs a sharp tug and you have no choice but to follow along. “I guess you’re coming with me then.”

He leads you through the rest of the crowd until you get to the balcony doors. It’s a small space overlooking the twinkling downtown city skyline. The chilly December air immediately rips away any lingering warmth left in your body as he walks you to the railing. Levi places his cup on the edge and pulls out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter with his free hand.

A couple you don’t recognize take up the single set of seating, audibly making out in the corner. They don’t seem to notice the sound of Levi flicking his lighter, or they don’t care. He lights his cigarette, unperturbed. You give an awkward cough.

“You know, the entire point of this party is to get to know others,” you quip. “Instead of hiding out for a smoke on the balcony.”

He keeps his gaze toward the city lights. “I prefer to smoke.”

You almost wish you had taken him up on the offer of a shot. However stubborn you might be, he hasn’t shown any desire to speak to you. The question of why he hasn’t decided to be rid of you already sits on the tip of your tongue. But if he was making the choice to play along, you would at least take the opportunity to get to know him.

In an attempt to appear nonchalant you ask, “So, what’s your name?”

Levi looks to you as you speak. “You mean we’ve taken three classes together and you don’t know my name by now?”

“Are you saying you know mine?”

He looks at you thoughtfully for a long moment, then takes a drag on his cigarette. When he breathes out, a murmur of your name floats from his lips alongside the smoke. To your surprise, he tacks on your last name and your major as well.

When he looks away to flick the ash from his cigarette, you swear he’s smiling. But it disappears in the low light before he looks at you again. “Those first day introductions in class were good for something.”

Taken by surprise, you can only stare for a moment. The idea that he knew your name this whole time despite never crossing paths makes your stomach flutter like it’s been taken over by a swarm of butterflies.

He waits for your response patiently but when it doesn’t come, his tone sounds a little subdued when he adds, “My name is Levi. We have the same major and I hate parties.”

At a loss for anything else to say, you glance to the cigarette perched between his fingers. “Didn’t know you smoked.”

“How would you know?”

“Okay, so I do actually know your name,” you confess. “And it’s four classes if you count Professor Treadwell’s class this semester. I just thought you’d think it was weird for me to know who you were already without being introduced first.”

“Oh, it’s definitely weird.”

He levels you with another gaze over the glowing end of his cigarette, but where the enraged bull in his expression was half an hour ago now sits something more unassertive and relaxed. This must be what Levi looks like when he’s being playful.

Your face flushes, feeling unpleasantly warm against the chilly air. “Okay, now you’re just fucking with me.”

You both allow a silence to settle in then. It’s more comfortable than what you would have expected at the beginning of the party. Levi continues to quietly smoke, always considering the direction of the wind before blowing out so it doesn’t drift into your face.

You lean against the railing and stare down into your green cup for a moment, now empty. He seems more amenable in conversation now that he’s not surrounded by a crowd, so you ask the question you’d wondered about when he first arrived.

“So, why are you here if you hate parties?”

“You know Hange,” he shrugs. He stubs out the last of his cigarette and drops it into the single sip of whatever alcohol is left in the bottom of his cup. “I’m sure you also know their powers of coercion.”

You grin, knowing exactly what he means. “What did they bribe you with?”

There’s a pause where he turns to take a look around the balcony. It’s empty now, the couple that had occupied the seats before disappeared at some point without either of you noticing.

“They promised to not get a gift for my birthday if I came.”

“When is your birthday?”

“The 25th.”

“Of this month?" you ask. “They probably already have a gift for you.”

“I think you severely overestimate Hange’s ability to plan ahead.”

You laugh in agreement. With school, they could be aggravatingly detail-oriented, but anything else in life was another matter entirely.

A sharp breeze cuts through the air and you stiffen, casting a glance to the sliding door that leads to the warm apartment inside. Levi follows your line of sight.

“Do you have a partner yet?”

Your head whips around at his question, immediately feeling those butterflies again. “Huh?”

Levi blinks, brows raised. “For Treadwell’s class? The research project?”

“Oh,” you say, feeling silly for not immediately understanding. “No, not yet. You?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know anyone in the class except for you,” he admits. Emotions flicker over his features in tandem, but you can’t accurately guess what’s going through his head before he asks, “Would you like to work on it together?”

“Really?” The question comes out like you don’t believe he’s being sincere, but you quickly remedy it with a nod. In class, he’s always come off as someone diligent in his work. At least you wouldn’t be stuck with someone who slacked off and left the responsibility up to you.

Before you can think better of it, you gesture for him to hold your empty cup and pull out your phone. “Uh, here. I’ll take down your number and we can plan to meet up.”

He recites his number and you quickly add him into your contacts, taking a moment to send him a text with your name. From somewhere in his pocket, you hear his phone ding.

“There,” you grin. “We can set something up on Monday if you want.”

Surprisingly, Levi reciprocates your expression. With your cups now stacked together in his free hand, he gestures to the door. “Monday’s fine. I should get going anyway.”

You lead the way back inside, not feeling comfortable enough yet to question why he’s leaving so early. Knowing him, he’s probably just over being surrounded by so many people.

A wave of warmth shivers down your spine when Levi closes the door behind him. In the case of someone leaving, you think the best option would be to find Hange for the key to the cuffs, so you take a moment to look around the room.

You turn around. “Hange probably has the key, so—“

The cuff around your hand suddenly feels heavier, and you look down to see that Levi has already opened his side and it’s now swaying from your wrist.

“These cheap ones are easy to break out of,” he explains, punctuating his point by reaching to release your own. His fingers just barely brush your skin before it unlatches with almost no effort. He holds them up for you to take. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

Before you can think of something to say, he’s already making his way through the crowd toward the front door. Something compels you to follow, even if it’s just to get another drink from the kitchen nearby, but he’s slipped on his coat and closed the door behind him before you get a glimpse of him again.

“There you are!” Hange’s voice rings through the doorway from the kitchen and you turn, finding both Hange and Moblit standing together in front of the stove. “Wait, what happened? Where did Levi go?”

“He left,” you say, crossing into the room and placing the cuffs onto the counter. There’s already a growing pile of them and you wonder how many had left over taking the penalty shot. “He said you bribed him into coming by promising to not get him a birthday present, so I’m assuming he hit his social limit for the night.”

Hange laughs, throwing their head back with the force of it. “He didn’t tell you the full story then. Tonight was his birthday present.”

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

I've literally been crying all day and all I want is jj to come thru my window and comfort me 🫡🫡

you drew stars around my scars

pairing(s): bf!jj maybank x gf!fem!reader

warnings: talks of verbal fighting, bad relationship with parents

summary: after being grounded by your parents, your boyfriend shows up to comfort you.

authors note: thank you so much for the request! i really appreciate it :) i’m so sorry to hear that but if you ever want to talk, i’m always free, even just to listen! i hope i didn’t do too bad on this and i hope you enjoy. i love writing these so please!! more requests!

not edited

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

you’d been crying for what felt like hours on end. you hated being grounded. it meant you couldn’t even go see your best friends or your boyfriend.

that had only began to make you sob harder. though you had seen jj just before you’d come home earlier in the day and received the news, you missed him so much.

you were used to seeing him every day for hours, even spending your nights or weekends with him. and now you couldn’t see him for a full month. all because your annoying ap teacher dropped you to a C for being absent during a test?

you had explained to your parents multiple times that it’d shoot right back up to an A when you retake it next week, but of course they didn’t listen. they never do.

you wiped your eyes with the inside sleeve of the hoodie you were wearing. jj’s hoodie. you held back even more tears.

before you could lay down and get comfortable to try to head to bed, there was a sequence of knocks at your window. you sniffled and got up off the bed, wearily walking over to the glass, finding your boyfriend waving obnoxiously at you.

you quickly undid the lock and helped him push it open. “hi baby,” he said with a big smile. you watched it falter when he saw your face. “hey, what’s wrong? why are you crying?”

you moved out of the way to allow him inside. he immediately kicked off his boots and shut the window behind himself, locking it then turning to you. his eyes scanned your face as another tear fell.

he gently grabbed your hand and led you to the bed, taking a seat on the side of it then pulling you to stand between his spread legs so you were at eye level with each other. “what’s wrong, sweet girl? what happened?”

his hands gently cradled your face while his thumbs lightly swiped at the tears falling down your pink cheeks. you only sobbed harder and quickly wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pressing your body flush against his.

he was quick to return it, his arms wrapping around your waist to meet at your lower back. “you’re okay, baby. i’ve got you,” he cooed softly.

you sobbed into his neck, your body shaking against his. “my—my parents grounded me,” you finally said.

he rubbed a comforting hand up and down your back. “‘s okay, sweetheart. we’re not gonna forget about you,” he smiled against your shoulder. “what happened this time?”

“my stupid ap b—bio teacher gave me a C and—and they saw it and flipped,” you cried. “i don’t wanna be grounded, j.”

he turned his head to kiss at your neck gently, squeezing you even tighter. “i know, baby. how long you grounded for?”

“a month,” you whined. “i can’t do a month, jj. i can’t not see you for a—a month.”

sobs wracked your body at the thought of not seeing him for that long. he left more soft kisses against your skin before pulling you back slightly so you could look him in the eyes. “a silly little rule your parents made won’t ruin anything, sweet girl. i’ll come visit you every night, ok? maybe i’ll even try to sneak you out with me.”

he placed a gentle kiss to your lips. “promise?” you asked, voice shaking.

the blonde held out his pinky with a toothy grin. “i promise, baby.”

[makethatelevenrings]

Breakfast for Three // J. Todd x f!reader

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: reader has a kid, swearing, talks of poverty (if u haven’t been able to figure out, I am a leftist and I am tucking my lil handkerchief into my collar and preparing to eat billionaires)

Summary: Being a single parent is hard. Being a single parent in Gotham feels impossible sometimes. Two people change things for the better. 

Listen, raising a child on your own was a test on its own. But being a single parent in Gotham? You had to be absolutely out of your mind.

But you loved your kid. You wouldn’t go back and change your decision. Every morning, you woke up to the giggles and shrieks of your four year old climbing all over you. Lucy was always up before your alarm and while you needed every minute of sleep, you would miss these moments whenever she became too cool to hang out with her mother. So you just bundled her wriggling body up into your arms and peppered her head with kisses as she laughed and wrapped her little octopus limbs around you.

Breakfast had moved from a coffee and a granola bar as you rushed out the door to work to Bluey pancakes for Lucy and even more coffee for you before you rushed out the door to get her to preschool and you to work. Every day felt like it was flying by too quickly.

Her birthday was quickly approaching and that’s how you found yourself out on the fire escape of your apartment with the baby monitor clutched between your hands and sobs escaping you despite your best efforts to stifle your cries.

You couldn’t afford any of the popular toys or games that kids were obsessed with. Hell, you could barely afford rent this month. Living in Gotham wasn’t as bad as other places in terms of rent but raising a kid was expensive and you were struggling to make ends meet thanks to work being slow. God, she was going to be so disappointed. Maybe you could start eating only one meal a day? That would save some money on groceries…

“Are you okay?”

The voice came from the shadows and the subsequent heart attack you received practically launched you into the air. The person cursed and then stepped out of the shadows. Okay, less scary but still pretty fucking terrifying. Red Hood stared down at you, or at least, you thought he was looking at you. The helmet made it difficult to figure out what direction he was facing.

“I said, are you okay?” he repeated in a gruff, no-nonsense voice. You nodded quickly and swiped away your tears with the back of your hand.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Don’t you have skulls to bash in or something?”

A huff of laughter escaped the vigilante’s helmet and you cocked your head to the side. He could laugh? He was capable of humor? Surprises were all around tonight.

“Already did that. And then I heard someone sounding like they just watched Marley and Me three times in a row and figured I should come check.” He eased himself into a crouch next to you and you admired how large and imposing he was yet he didn’t seem terrifying when he was next to you. You weren’t his target so there was no reason to fear him.

“Gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s stupid,” you muttered. You turned your attention back to the baby monitor to see Lucy fast asleep in your bed. The one bedroom apartment you rented didn’t have space for another bed so the two of you shared one. Luckily, she was a deep sleeper so she never stirred when you crawled in a few hours after her bedtime and got up early in the morning to get ready for the day.

“Nothing that makes you cry is stupid,” Red Hood retorted. “Hit me with it.”

“My kid’s birthday is coming up and I don’t have the funds to pay for anything. I can barely keep our heating on. She’s going to hate her birthday and I’ll have ruined it forever. I’m already working sixty hours a week, but I can’t ask Mrs. Hayes to watch her longer. Fuck.” You scrubbed a hand down your face and bemoaned your rotten fucking luck. Fuck your shitbag ex. Fuck the system that prevented single parents from succeeding. Fuck it all.

Rustling beside you made you look up to find Red Hood rummaging through his pockets. He let out a triumphant hum and then outstretched his hand. A stack of bills rested in his gloved palm and your eyes widened at the offering.

“Absolutely not,” you blurted out. “I’m not taking blood money from you. Who knows where that’s come from? And what if you show up in five years demanding the money back with some huge fucking interest rate?”

He chuffed out another laugh. “Christ, your mind is an interesting place. It’s legit, I promise. And it’s not a loan. It’s a gift. Take it. I’ve got enough cash.”

You watched him warily as you reached out and grasped the money. Your lips moved as you counted out the values silently and inhaled sharply once you got to the end. Three thousand dollars. That would pay rent for two months, leaving your paycheck to cushion you.

“Holy shit. Thank you. Thank you so much,” you gasped. But when you looked up, there was no sight of Red Hood. He had simply disappeared into the shadows once again. Only the rough paper of cash in your hands made you realize that it wasn’t a dream.

You spent the rest of the night going over your finances and figuring out where you could use the cash and how much you could spend on Lucy. With enough to bolster you for a bit, you decided to take her by a bakery on her way to pre-school. With her dinosaur backpack firmly settled on her back, Lucy bounded towards the bakery with you hot on her heels. Where the hell did she get all this energy?

“Woah,” a man exclaimed as Lucy tripped on a raised edge of the sidewalk. He caught her before she went sprawling onto the pavement, saving you from a torrent of tears and skinned knees.

“Gotta be careful there, kiddo,” he said as he righted her. You caught up to her finally and kneeled down to check her for injuries. Unscathed, thanks to the stranger. You raised your head to meet his eyes and thank him and found yourself captured by searing teal eyes.

“Thank you,” you blurted out. “I should really get her one of those backpack leashes.”

His full lips curled up into a grin and your heart stuttered at the sight of it. Small scars littered his tan skin, but it only added to the handsome rogue look he had going for him.

“I get it. The cinnamon rolls at this place are fu-” His eyes darted towards the squirming child in your hands. “Freaking amazing. I practically run here every morning to get one.”

Lucy gasped. “You like cinnamon rolls?”

The man shrugged. “Well, yeah, who doesn’t?”

“Sad people,” she replied wisely. You burst into laughter at the solemnity of her words and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“I love you, kid,” you announced.

“Love you too, mommy. Can we go now?”

You stood up to your full height and the man did the same, but he was much taller than you. He offered his hand and you shook it.

“I’m Jason. How about I buy you two breakfast?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do it. If anything, I owe you.”

His smile grew and you marveled at the slight dimple in his chin. “Yeah, but this way I can be a gentleman before I ask you out.”

There was no way this exceedingly handsome, Adonis-like man was asking you on a date. No fucking way. You had toothpaste on your shirt and a four year old currently clinging to your leg. No man had even looked at you since your ex knocked you up and left.

But he was kind and genuine and there was some kind of soft emotion in his eyes that made you want to ask him how the world had hurt him. And Lucy seemed to like him from just their first meeting.

“Okay. Breakfast sounds nice.”

If only you knew how a simple breakfast would change your life forever.

tag list: @mcrmarvelloki​ @gone-batty-fics​ @someoneimsure​ @perpetual-fangirl900​ @visagebrise​ @cursedandromedablack​ @alexxavicry​ @the-wayward-daughter​ @raging-trash-of-mind​ @kat-nee​ @khaylin27​ @igotanidea​ @princessbl0ss0m​

[mattatouilletkachuk]

Never Felt More Alone || Meet The Mercers au

a/n: I finally got around to doing something for ‘Meet The Mercers’. This was the one I was probably looking forward to the most and I can’t wait to get deeper into this au with you guys!

wc: 1k+

Warnings: mentions of abortion, unplanned pregnancy, crying, angst

Summary: Hooking up with a hockey player she met at a bar on her birthday wasn’t supposed to have consequences. It does, though.

Part of ‘The Hockey Babies au’ and ‘Meet The Mercers’. This au is interactive so any asks, thoughts, requests or ideas are always welcomed!

When the first pregnancy test came back positive she felt like throwing up.

When the second one came back positive she thought that she might faint.

When she had to schedule an appointment with her doctor to confirm what the at-home tests were saying she wanted to cry.

Right now, well, she just feels disconnected from herself and her body as she sits completely still as her doctor confirms that she is pregnant. She listens and nods robotically as the doctor tells her about her options in a calm voice. She can’t help but think of how rude she must seem to this other woman. Instead of her own voice, it’s her mother's voice in her head scolding her for not looking the doctor in the eye. For not replying with any words like she had been taught.

She wants to laugh. There were a lot of things she was taught were right and wrong. Getting pregnant by some random hookup before she graduates college was never explicitly taught because her parents had raised her better. She wonders what their reactions will be as she’s handed pamphlets.

When the appointment is over she thanks the doctor and promises to make another appointment soon.

Her mind is blissfully blank as she walks out of the room, avoiding the pregnant women sitting in the waiting room. It’s not until she’s sitting in the passenger seat of her best friend's car that it all finally hits her. Her friend simply pulls into a parking spot and lets her cry. Her friend doesn’t say anything but she rubs her back to let her know she isn’t alone.

“I’m so stupid,” she manages between cries. Her breathing is calming down slowly but the tears don’t stop.

Her best friend, the same girl she met on her first day of college, hushes her and pushes a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and says softly. “You’re not stupid. You couldn’t have predicted this was gonna happen.”

She wiped away her tears and looked at her friend. Seeing her kind eyes looking back at her made her want to break again. “Even if that’s true, my parents are going to kill me.”

Her friend grimaced. She had met her parents several times. Even spending time at their Summer home in Cape Cod for the past four years. Her parents were lovely people but they had high standards for their daughter and everyone who ever saw them interact with her could see that. They were rich and traditional and would gasket when they learned that their pride and joy was knocked up by some stranger.

It was only then that she glanced down at the pamphlets she was still holding. The top one read ‘It’s Your Choice: What You Should Know About Abortion”. Maybe her parents didn’t have to know. Maybe this was something she didn’t have to deal with. This could just be a little bump in the way of her life that she would never have to think about ever again.

Her friend saw her looking at the pamphlet before asking with no trace of judgment in her voice, “Is that what you want!”

A fresh tear rolled down her cheek but she didn’t respond.

“If it is, I’m by your side all the way, but if you do it you should do it for yourself not because you're afraid of your parents knowing.” It was her friend who wiped away the tears from her cheeks this time. “I just want you to know that you would make an amazing mother, whether it’s now or sometime in the future.”

They sat in the car with a random radio station playing quietly over the speakers as they sat silent.

With a deep sigh, she opened the glove department and put the pamphlets in before shutting it again. She looked at her friend and smiled. It was a bit wobbly but it wasn’t fake.

“I’m keeping the baby.”

Her friend smiled and pulled her into a hug as best as she could over the center console.

They didn’t talk much as they drove back to their shared apartment in the City. She tried her best not to think about the fact that her parents paid for this apartment. She was a part of a sorority and volunteered all around New York but she never actually had a job. Her parents always told her to focus on her studies and they would handle everything else but now she needed to grow up and do it soon.

When they finally settled inside, she flipped down onto their large couch while her friend went to the kitchen to get them something to drink. She wasn’t prepared at all for her friend to come back into the living room with a crumpled napkin.

“So would now be a bad time to mention that the hockey guy you hooked up with on your birthday and who knocked you up left his phone number on the fridge.”

You grabbed the napkin she held out and looked at it.

Had a fun time. I would love to hangout again sometime. Call me sometime.

- Dawson (xxx-xxx-xxxx)

You were so worried about having to tell your parents that you completely forgot that there was another person in this equation. Truthfully, you had hoped that because you didn’t see him the next morning after hooking up with him it meant fate wanted you to be a single mother. How were you supposed to tell a professional hockey player that you were pregnant with his baby?

Did you have to tell him? It’s not like he knew you and he was probably still drunk when he wrote this. He probably goes through so many girls that you doubted he remembered you.

“Maybe I don’t have to tell him. It would probably be for the best.”

You’re voice was weak and the hand holding the napkin was shaking.

“Maybe you should sit on that thought for a little bit.” Your friend and you could tell that she didn’t like your answer.

It didn’t matter, though. You were the one who was pregnant with some random athlete's baby.

[steddieasitgoes]

written for @eddiemonth Day 16 Prompt: Library & Curious a/n: This one might be my favorite one I've written yet! It's set at the start of season 2! read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Edde Month series

Eddie’s well aware there are a lot of stupid classes that Hawkins High requires its student body to take. Algebra (there’s no reason for the alphabet and numbers to mix, except in very rare cases, like D20 type cases), Physics (what more do they need to know beyond what goes up, must come down), French (as if anyone from Bumfuck, Indiana could afford to go to France — okay maybe some can, but Eddie’s certainly not one of them that’s for damn sure), goddamn Physical Education (only way he’s running is if someone is chasing him, thank you very much). But the stupidest class of all has to be Study Hall.

An entire class dedicated to doing work for other classes? What kind of idiot dreamed this one up? Instead of letting them out an hour early, some guy, probably in a suit because all bad ideas come from guys in suits, decided to hold them hostage to do more work. It’s ridiculous. Not to mention, it’s one of the few times, outside of lunch, that the grades get to mingle with each other. Sure, lots of studying goes on in between freshmen drooling over seniors and sophomores paying juniors for last year’s test answers.

The only time Eddie actually liked study hall was during his sophomore year when he had it first period and could do all the homework he neglected to do the night before. It’s the only time it actually made sense. And the only time, thus far in his high school career, that Eddie actually turned in more assignments than not.

But now, he’s a senior stuck with study hall as his last class of the day, and he wants to die. Okay, maybe not die die. But die in the sense that he’d rather risk bodily harm escaping the hellscape that is the Hawkins library during 6th-period study hall than sit here. His freedom is so close — nothing but a few windows and a brick wall separating him from the brisk late-October air. Eddie can’t risk it, though. He’s already reached his detention quote for the semester, and if he wants to keep using the drama room for Hellfire meetings, he has to sit in this damn library seat and at least pretend to get some work done.

Which, honestly, isn’t the worst thing in the world. At least it gives him time to work on his latest Hellfire campaign without the prying eyes of Jeff and Gareth or the unnecessary questions from Freak. Sure, he’s supposed to be working on an essay for English Lit, but he doesn’t think Ms. Washington is going to appreciate his take on Frankenstein, so he’ll worry about coming up with a dumbed-down idea another day.

Besides, even focusing on his new campaign is hard enough with the idle chatter going on that the librarian is either pretending not to hear or is too tired of shushing them for.

It’s the usual sort of study hall gossip. Who’s screwing who. What teacher is going to pull a pop quiz tomorrow and become the biggest asshole at Hawkins High. The occasional nervous whispers of the geeks actually studying.

It’s all mindless chatter that drifts into the background when the topic of Tina’s Halloween Bash comes up. That’s the real gossip of the night. Who got the keg, and what other alcohol is being provided? Who is going to be the best dressed? What couple is going to get caught screwing in Tina’s parent’s bed? Are there going to be any good fights or breakups?

Eddie rolls his eyes. Jesus H. Christ, can’t anybody be original around here?

Unfortunately for Eddie, there’s no escaping Tina’s Halloween Bash since he’s been summoned to provide some extra party favors, as the “cool” kids like to call them. Eddie, never one to back down from being a thorn in a “cool” kid’s side, always responds with the same spiel: “Drugs. What you want is drugs, right? Or should I go raid Melvald’s for you?”

Whatever. Money is money, and Eddie can take all the money he can get his grubby hands on if he wants to get out of this shit-hole town when he graduates in June.

Glancing at his watch, he tips his head back in a silent groan of annoyance. Only ten minutes have passed since he slunk into the uncomfortable library seat. Christ, why does time move so slow, sometimes? Eddie tries to focus on his Hellfire notes in front of him, and he’s successful for all of thirty seconds before something catches his attention in the corner of his eye.

Nancy Wheeler and the former Hawkins High King, Steve Harrington, are whispering to each other by the pencil sharpener. He rolls his eyes. Of course, no one else in the library is paying them any mind. And why would they? Harrington fell from grace last year, and Wheeler isn’t exactly the “look at me” type. Still, Eddie finds them morbidly interesting in a way he finds all the tragic heterosexual couples in this stupid small town interesting.

Before Eddie has a chance to fall deeper into his cynical outlook on this stupid Hawkins High couple, Wheeler starts tugging Harrington toward the private study room in the back of the library. It’s a move that shocks Eddie to his core. Don’t get him wrong, he’s heard all bout Harrington’s little trysts in that very room over the years (thank you gossip mill for the very cheap porn), but he never would have assumed Wheeler would be the one tugging him toward it.

It’s that detour from who she’s supposed to be that has Eddie peeling himself off his chair.  At least, that’s what he tells himself as he saunters toward the stack of books in the back of the library closest to the private room. If he hears moaning or anything remotely sounding like they’re hooking up, he promises himself he’ll leave. He’s a freak in many ways, but a creep, he is not.

Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie can see the two of them in the small room. They’re close but not close enough to be doing anything beyond talking. From the look on her face, doing anything of that sort isn’t even on her mind.

Interesting.

Eddie creeps closer.

“Barbara. It’s like nobody cares. Except her parents. And now they’re selling their house.”

“Nance—“

Wheeler rants about something, but he misses most of it. Only catching the very end.

“It’s destroying them.”

No shit, Eddie thinks with another dramatic eye roll. Of course, losing their only daughter is destroying them. The Hollands are one of the few families around here that actually have a heart. At least they did before Barbara tore it from them by running away. Or so the story goes. Eddie’s always been a bit suspicious of Holland’s disappearance. He knows the runaway type, and a straight-A girl, with a well-off family who loves them like Holland had doesn’t fit the bill.

“I know. Okay? I get it,” Harrington says, glancing away from Wheeler to peer out the window. Eddie grabs the first book on the shelf and buries his face in it. It must fool Steve because he starts talking again. “But listen, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Yeah, we could tell them the truth.”

“This isn’t some game, Nance. If they found out that we told any…” He trails off again, and Eddie reaches for another book.

Eyes peering over the pages, Eddie watches as he shuts the blinds before presumably returning to Wheeler. With the blinds shut and their voices even lower, he can no longer hear what they’re talking about. Which is a damn shame because Eddie’s never been more curious about what the disgraced King was about to say than right now. 

+ + +

“M’telling you guys. It was weird,” Eddie says through a mouthful of Doritos.

They’re hanging out in Gareth’s garage. Jeff sits in the old recliner while Gareth stays perched behind his drum kit. Freak is running late, as usual, though Eddie’s not too pressed about it today. Too distracted filling the boys in on what he overheard in the library.

“I don’t know man; it sounds like she was just concerned about her best friend,” Gareth says, lightly tapping his drumsticks on his snare.

“Yeah, those two were inseparable, remember.”

“All the more reason why it’s weird she’s been mopping around lately. Obviously, she knows where Holland is. Or what happened to her.”

“Not this again,” Jeff groans, sinking further into the recliner.

“Yes, this again,” Eddie retorts, throwing Jeff an intense glare. “This town is weird as shit. If the Byers kid can come back from the dead—“

“I thought they proved it wasn’t actually Byers they found in the quarry,” The Freak says, finally joining them in the garage. 

“They did, but Eddie still thinks—“

“Shut up!” Eddie shouts, taking a moment to throw a Dorito at all of their heads. “Let me level with you for a second, okay? Yeah, sure, they said that kid wasn’t Byers, but they never said whose kid it was, which is weird. And then right after that, they “find” Holland’s car? It’s too coincidental, man. You know a story isn’t right when it’s too easy.”

“This isn’t one of our campaigns,” Gareth sighs. “Sometimes things really are just accidental coincidences.”

Eddie shakes his head, running his Dorito-stained fingers over his face. “Nah, man, m’not buying it this time. Harrington and Wheeler know what really happened to Holland. And I think they’re responsible for it.”

“So, what?” Jeff asks, leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees. “You think they made her disappear or something.”

“Maybe Harrington got Holland knocked up, and his family gave her money to leave.”

“See!” Eddie shouts, slapping his hands together as he jumps on the balls of his feet. “Freak gets it! That’s the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

“Okay, but if Harrington knocked Wheeler’s best friend up, why would she still be dating him?” Jeff asks.

“And why would they both be hiding her from her parents?” Gareth adds.

Okay, so maybe these are valid questions, but Eddie doesn’t appreciate the doubts they’re throwing at him. “I don’t appreciate you doubting me,” he says plainly. “You’ll see. M’gonna figure this out.”

“Right, just like you figured out that Ms. O’Donnell was actually failing you for a reason and not because she had some vendetta against Wayne for not dating her.”

“Hey. That was a good theory, okay. One I still think is true, by the way.” Turning his back on the boys, Eddie crosses the room and tosses the empty bag of Doritos into the trash bin before heading towards his badly parked van.

“I thought we were practicing!” Gareth shouts after him.

“Just let him go,” Jeff sighs. “He’s impossible to work with when he’s in conspiracy theory mode.”

Eddie flips Jeff off, climbing into the van. “I’ll see you boys tomorrow.”

+ + +

Eddie’s been at Tina’s party for an entire hour and a half, and there’s still no sign of Harrington or Wheeler. Not that he’s actively searching them out, of course. He’s just had some downtime in between upselling Hagan for the world’s shittiest pot he could get his hands on, and explaining to some cheerleader how Special K hits differently if you snort it. Plus, his supply ran out about ten minutes ago, so he’s just buying time before someone notices him lingering and kicks his ass to the curb.

He’s about to save himself and whatever jock gets thrown his way the trouble, when he spots Harrington and Wheeler arguing by the punch bowl. He’s too far away to hear what they’re saying, but he has a sneaking suspicion it has less to do with the conversation he heard in the library and more to do with Wheeler’s drunken state. Case in point: the red liquid she just spilled all over her blouse.

Chasing after her, Harrington cuts through the crowd and makes his way toward one of the bathrooms. Eddie waits a minute before following them down the crowded hallway. Thankfully, no one is in line for this bathroom — still too early in the night for the alcohol to have hit their bladders — so he’s first in the unofficial bathroom line. Leaning casually against the wall, Eddie angles his ear closer to the door so he can hear inside.

It takes a minute for his ears to tune out the music and nonsense chatter, but when they do, he can clearly hear Wheeler slurring her words.

“You’re pretending like everything’s okay. You know, like we didn’t… like we didn’t kill Barb.”

Eddie’s never experienced shock before, at least, he doesn’t think he has; the early days of his life are a little hazy around the edges, but that’s the only word he thinks fits what he’s experiencing right now. Part of him wants to shove his ear closer to the door to continue listing, while the other part of him wants to run for the hills, screaming in victory. And if he’s straight with himself, maybe screaming in fear a little, too. Harrington and Wheeler murderers? Who knew?

He knew, that’s who!

He knew there was something shady going on between those two.

Pressing his ear closer, he can hear Wheeler slurring more words, though he’s not exactly sure what she’s saying. Honestly, he doesn’t really care what she’s saying. He’s listening for Harrington’s response right now. What does the mighty King have to say about the bomb she’s just dropped?

“This is bullshit,” she slurs.

“Like we’re in love?” Steve asks.

Huh, clearly, Eddie missed a step or two in his shocked state.  He’s not exactly sure how the conversation strayed from them killing Holland to their, clearly, toxic relationship, but the fact it did is all the proof Eddie needs. If they didn’t kill her, Harrington would have been vehemently denying her claim. And yet, he sounds like a kicked puppy dog right now because she doesn’t love him.

Join the club, Harrington.

The doorknob starts to jiggle, and Eddie bolts. It’s not that he’s afraid about coming face-to-face with the two who apparently killed Holland. It’s just that, well, he needs a minute to think about the information he’s just learned.

+ + +

With Gareth and Freak both busy supervising their siblings around Hawkins and Jeff on candy duty for his family’s house, Eddie has no one to share the good bad news with. RIP Holland and all that, but he’s sitting on some serious dirt right now.

The good part of Eddie’s brain knows he should head straight for the police station. Pull good ole’ Chief Hopper aside and gloat about how he did his job for him. But Eddie’s spent enough time at the stuffy station to know no one is going to believe him especially not against Harrington and Wheeler. He’d have better luck marching in there and turning himself in for her murder. Not that he’s going to do that.

He supposes he could tell Wayne about it, but he doesn’t need to be dragging his uncle into any more of his messes. And since Eddie has no proof beyond overhearing a drunken confession, a mess it’ll surely turn into.

So, he opts for the third option and heads out to Skull Rock to do some thinking.

Maybe Freak is right, and it was some sort of jealous rage brought on by a Holland-Harrington pregnancy. Or maybe Holland saw something she shouldn’t have; the possibilities are endless, and Eddie’s imagination is limitless.

Eventually, he circles back to what he’s supposed to do with this information. Should he turn them in? Maybe not Wheeler; she seems like she’s experienced enough guilt as it and the girl has a bright future or whatever it is the teachers are always talking about. Harrington, though? Harrington, he should turn in, right? I mean, he didn’t even seem phased when Wheeler brought up the murder. Eddie’s watched enough horror movies to know that’s psychopath behavior right there. Besides, it would be nice to see the King behind bars. But then again, he hasn’t been the King in a while. And Harrington’s never really done anything to Eddie beyond standing idle while Hagan threw slurs at him. But he’s not hanging out with Hagan anymore, so maybe he should cut him some slack.

Though they did murder someone.

Jesus H. Christ.

Maybe this is why they say curiosity killed the cat — Eddie’s head is throbbing. He’s about to take another hit from his joint when he hears leaves crunching in the distance.

Shit.

Someone’s coming.

Snubbing out his joint against the rock, Eddie tries his best to make it seem like he’s just here, escaping the busy Halloween night. Which, like, he definitely is, but he can’t be too safe. Especially not when there are two teenage murderers on the loose.

“She thinks m’bullshit? She’s bullshit! Bullshit.”

The voice is unmistakable.

Jesus H. Christ could tonight get any weirder.

Eddie’s only escape is to run deeper into the forest, and he’s not about to do that so he makes himself comfortable on top of Skull Rock like a fucking sitting duck. Searching the pockets of his vest, he yanks out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. Neither of which he was looking for. Of course, he left his pocket knife in his van. Stupid. So stupid!

There’s a moment of silence before Harrington emerges from the clearing. The moon is bright above them, making Steve’s tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes glow in the otherwise dark forest.

Maybe he is feeling guilty after all.

“Ah, fuck,” Harrington groans, stumbling to the ground.

Eddie watches as he rolls around for a moment, struggling to find his footing. If Eddie were a mean person, he might let Harrington suffer. But something about his behavior reminds him of a wounded animal, and Eddie’s always had a soft spot for bruised and broken things.

“Shit, Harrington, you okay?” Eddie asks, jumping down.

Eddie’s boots crunch against the leaves, startling Harrington. He manages to pull himself into a seated position and brandishes a near empty beer bottle in Eddie’s direction. “Stay back!”

“Woah, man,” Eddie yelps, hands raised in surrender in front of him. “Don’t kill me.”

“Oh, s’you,” Steve says, slumping against the tree behind him. He tosses the beer bottle aside and runs both his hands over his face. “Jesus. Why does everyone think I would kill s-someone?”

“Uh,” Eddie stutters, glancing around. Now’s his chance to make a break for it. Put those hours of physical education to good use and sprint to the van before Harrington has a chance to make him his next victim. But there’s something in Steve’s sad eyes and dejected voice that makes Eddie stay. “‘Cause you have killed someone before?”

“Man, what the hell are you talking about?” Harrington snaps, fumbling to get out of his jacket. “I’ve n-never killed anyone.”

“So, you didn’t kill Barbara Holland, then?”

“No! Jesus, ‘course not. Barb was… Barb was nice. She was good. Like Nance. Better than Nance, maybe. I don’t know,” Harrington whines, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Barb she’s… yeah, man, she’s dead. But I didn’t have anything to do with that. N-not in the way you think I did, at least.”

Harrington’s not making a lot of sense, which only spurs Eddie’s curiosity on more. Closing the distance between them, Eddie hops to a squat in front of him. “But you did have something to do with what happened to her?”

“Shit, man,” Harrington groans, words slurring more more. “S’complicated, okay. I can’t talk about it with you or her parents or anyone. Or else they’ll come for me or Nance or our families and then we’ll all be toast like Barb. And that… that thing that came out of the Byers’ wall.”

Complicated? Jesus H. Christ, Eddie’s never heard anything more complicated than the jumble of words that just left Harrington’s mouth. He can feel his heart racing in his chest, the realization that they’re alone in the woods talking about something someone doesn’t want Harrington talking about.

“What?” Eddie says more to himself than to Steve. “Harrington, what thing in the Byers wall? You’re not making any sense!”

“The thing. You know, the… the,” Steve hiccups. “The thing we can’t talk ‘bout, else they’ll come for us next.”

Someone will come for him and his family if he reveals what happened to Barb? And the thing in the Byers wall? He wants to ask who would come. What would happen? Is he being blackmailed? There are so many questions dancing on the tip of his tongue, but none of them win the war.

“Harrington, man,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “Are you in trouble? Do you, like, need help or something?”

Finally, freeing himself from his jacket, Harrington lifts his head and looks up. There’s a moment where Eddie’s life flashes before his eyes, but then the sad replay of his life is interrupted by Harrington’s hand on his cheek. A dopey-looking grin on his face as he squints up at Eddie.

“You have pretty eyes, M-m-munson. Anyone ever tell you that?” Steve slurs before promptly passing out against the tree.

What the hell has Eddie gotten himself into?

[her-power]

Last Chance to Dance (Rockstar! e.m. x fem reader)

🚨🛑🔞18+++ MINORS DNI - YOU WILL BLOCKED🚨🛑🔞 TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING (For entire series): Rockstar! Addict! Sweet! Mean! Eddie, smut, unprotected p+v, fluff, fingering (f receiving), masturbation, oral (m+f receiving), heavy drug use, descriptions of IV drug use, swearing, talks of anxiety, panic disorder, mental illness, talks of suicide

Summary: Modern Eddie + reader are early 30s. Eddie is the famous lead singer/guitarist of Corroded Coffin, who has gotten himself into legal trouble due to his antics and drug use. Eddie broke your heart many years ago and he receives a letter from you asking to meet to talk about what happened between you two so long ago. Secrets are talked about, mental walls are built and broken down. Most of this series will be in Eddie's POV. (I will also be putting song inspirations on each part 🤍)

Word Count: 5k

A/N: There will be a LOT of mentions of heavy drug use in this series. This series DOES NOT glorify the use of drugs. It is not cool, it is not fun, it is something that destroys people and everyone around them. I have loved and lost people I know to drug and alcohol use, a lot of what you read here is my own personal experience from what I have seen with my own eyes. I hope this series will spread awareness and will give anyone and everyone who reads this hope. If you or anyone you know is struggling with addiction, please know you are not alone, there is help out there.

The silence is almost deafening as I sit there in my dimly lit office, tapping my finger against the arm of the chair; the metal of my ring clinking as I stare at my therapist, Dr. Catherine Ryan, in front of me. She had a kind smile, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk today. 

“What’s bothering you?” She asks gently. 

I gaze at her, gnawing on the inside of my cheek. A stupid habit I formed when I stopped using six months ago. 

Let’s see, I’m tired of the noise inside my head that is constantly reminding me what a piece of shit I am. I’m lucky that my bandmates don’t hate my guts for the shit I put them through on tour when I was needle deep in a heroin fog and couldn’t remember the lyrics to a fucking song I wrote. My music career is only surviving because the world thinks we’re on a hiatus to write our next album when I actually did a stint in rehab and have court ordered mandatory therapy once a week. The only way I can have therapy is if she comes to my escape cabin in upstate New York and escorted in and out by a security guard. 

Oh, I also can’t stop thinking of you, the one whose heart I broke fifteen years ago back in Hawkins, Indiana because I was too scared to love or be loved. The same you who mailed me a letter that I received at my P.O. Box in Boston three days ago, that I haven’t opened yet and sits in my back pocket folded up, because I’m too much of a pussy to see what you have to say.  

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I tell her, taking a cigarette out of my pocket. I let the smoke fill my lungs and exhale the smoke away from her. 

“What do you want to talk about?” She asks, crossing her legs. I stare at her long legs, and my eyes scan up her body. She was curvy and thick, with a perfect set of tits and stunning green eyes. I almost laugh, if a beautiful woman like her was in my house six months ago, it wouldn’t take long before I’d have her bent over the back of my couch, fucking her until she couldn’t take it anymore. But I couldn’t do that anymore. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, or whatever the fuck the saying is. 

“Eddie, this is mandatory therapy. I can’t help you if you’re not willing to talk. We’ve had four sessions so far, and the only thing we have talked about is your drug habit.” She seemed annoyed, and I couldn’t blame her.

“I’m only here because of my drug habit.” 

“Is that all?” 

She was testing me, and I smile at her, leaning my elbows against my knees. “You know, I bet you are really good at helping people and are able to get your patients to sit here and cry about their shitty lives or whatever it is people tell you. But I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, you’re not gonna get it from me.” 

“You keep up a guard. Defense mechanism, it’s common in people who have been hurt before.” She says, scribbling a note down. 

I narrow my eyes. “I sense judgment in your tone, and I’m not sure I care for it.” 

“It’s not judgement, Eddie. It’s an observation. I’m observing you.” 

I sit back against my chair and scoff, lighting up another cigarette with the ember of the one I just had. I inhale deeply. “I think our session should be cut early today.” 

She closes her notebook and gives you a kind smile. “If that’s what you want.” 

“I do.” I tell her. 

I get up from my seat as she stands, walking her to the door where the security guard waited outside. I may be an asshole, but I know how to be a gentleman. Chivalry isn’t dead when your name is Eddie Munson. She nods at me as she leaves, handing me her card for the time of the next session for next week and I close the door behind her. I stub out the cigarette in the ashtray and let out a deep sigh. I plop myself on the couch, hearing the crinkle of the letter in my back pocket and I lift my hips to pull it out. I look at the neat print on the front; seeing your handwriting brought back so many memories that I had forgotten about. 

Why would you send me a letter? Is it just to tell me how happy you’ve been these last fifteen years since I’ve been gone, that you’re married with children, thriving in your thirties? 

“Well, the only way to know is if you open the letter, dipshit.” I mutter to myself. I groan, shaking my head as I rip the letter open and unfold it. It was only two pages, but you had written a lot. 

 Hey, You’re a tough guy to find, being famous and all. I didn’t think this P.O. Box was real at first, but I ended up tracking down Gareth and he told me it was real. I can’t believe he still has the phone number he’s had since high school.  I don’t know why I’m writing you a letter, I guess I could’ve just texted you, he did give me your number, but I wanted this to feel more personal. Like when I’d write you those stupid folded notes in class.  I know it’s been a long time, and you’re probably thinking I’m absolutely insane, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you lately. There are so many things that I wanna say to you. There are so many things that were left unsaid, and I guess lately it’s been bothering me. You’re probably not even going to get this, so I don’t even know why I’m continuing to write.  I don’t want you to think that I hated you or have hated you this whole time. It would be easier to hate you, believe me, I’ve tried but I physically cannot have that kind of power over me. I’m proud of you, Eddie. You worked so hard to get to where you are, and you made your dreams come true. I knew you could.  I want to tell you I’m proud of you in person; to let you know that what happened in the past stays there and we can both move forward in a way. I mean, I just told you now. I know you’re really busy and I feel stupid now. But I will be in Boston in December, the week of the 18th while my aunt is down in Florida for the week, house sitting. Gareth had mentioned you and the band were taking a hiatus to focus on the writing and doing some self reflecting. I would love to see you, especially with the holiday season. 

It’s not every day you get to see the boy you’ve known since diapers be on the cover of Rolling Stone magazine, selling out stadiums. 

Please don’t feel obligated, though. 

I suddenly forgot how to swallow, and I almost choke on my own saliva. You had written your phone number on the bottom of the last page. I swing my legs onto the floor, taking my phone off the coffee table. I scroll to my contact list, and add your name, along with your phone number. 

I pause, my hands begin to shake, and I inhale deeply. 

“No no no, not now, not now.” Grimacing, I sit back on couch, closing my eyes as my stomach turns to knots and my chest feels like it was going to explode. I can feel the sweat bead at the back of my neck as the panic attack feels like it’s choking me out and I groan. I go into the drawer of the coffee table, pulling out the lorazepam pill bottle, taking a minute to open the cap because my hands were so sweaty. I throw the pill in my mouth, swallowing it dry and breathe in through my nose. 

This happens more often now, especially since being off dope, I had to learn how to deal with them like a normal thirty-four-year-old man. It took a lot of convincing for my doctors to give me the lorazepam, but apparently threatening to go and take a hot shot of heroin to kill myself was convincing enough for them to give me the lowest dose of the stupid pill. 

I close my eyes. Thinking back to how I got here; how I could’ve lost everything because of my own stupidity, because of my inability to slow down, because I took sex, drugs, rock and roll too literally. All because I refuse to let love into my soul and hold on tight. 

One year earlier

The dressing room walls echo with the moans of myself and...I don’t even remember her name. Sarah? Shelly? It doesn’t even matter. I only see the back of her head anyway; she was very blonde. I hold onto her hips tightly, slamming my cock in and out of her. She was screaming like a porn star, and I’m pretty sure she was putting on a show. 

“Oooooh, just like that baby. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Oh goddd, you’re so fucking good.” She moans and I roll my eyes, slamming into her harder just to get her to shut up. I reach over to the coffee table to grab my tiny vile of cocaine, I pop open the cap, and pull out of her for a moment. She was still rolling her hips as I sprinkle the drugs onto her ass.

“Stop fucking moving.” I tell her, grabbing the plastic straw and snorting back the drugs into my airways. She moans again when she hears me snort another line off her, and I slam myself back into her. My head falls back in pleasure, the effects of the cocaine causing every single part of my body to pulsate, and I can feel my orgasm approaching. 

“Fuuuuck.” I moan, my rhythm getting sloppy, and she groans. 

“Cum inside me baby, cum inside me.” She moans and I immediately feel myself go soft. Fuck this. I stop moving and slide myself out of her, she turns to look at me, her mouth opened in a gasp. “Why did you stop?”

I take a cigarette out of my pack and light it. “Get out.” 

“What?” She snaps. 

“Get your shit and get the fuck out of my dressing room. Telling me to cum inside you, I know what you’re doing.” I take her dress off the floor and throw it at her. Her eyes narrow and she gets up from the couch, throwing the dress over her head. 

“You weren’t even that good, fucking junkie!” She yells at me, and I can’t help the laugh that escapes my lungs. She looked like a cartoon character. Her eyes wild, her hair a wild mess, her fake tits bouncing as she storms out of the room. I lean back on the couch, a little mad that I didn’t cum, but whatever, that’s what my hand is for. I don’t know why I invite these women back to my dressing room after every show. Most of the time, these women don’t even know the words to our songs, they just want to be able to tell their friends they fucked a rockstar.  I sigh, opening the vile and do another bump. I’m one hundred percent in love with heroin, but I’m an addict. Cocaine just takes the edge off when I need it to. I tie my hair back in a low bun, blowing my bangs out of my face. I stand, catching a glimpse of myself in the fluorescent lit vanity mirror. The lighting made me look terrible; I was thinner than normal. The ram skull tattoo across my abdomen looked discolored, but I know it was just the way the light was hitting it. I was losing muscle mass in both of my arms, but since tattoo sleeves covered both my arms, no one could notice. No one knew how bad it was getting with the dope; I honestly preferred to suffer in silence about it, but I knew they noticed. I would feel Gareth’s eyes burn into the back of my skull whenever I would escape to go into a bathroom, or immediately go into my hotel room to get started on my new supply. I felt terrible keeping it from him, he was my brother, my bandmate, but he didn’t need to worry. I was fine, at least that’s what I told myself. 

We had awhile before we hit the next city of the tour. The tour bus felt too crowded, too stuffy. We all decided it would make sense to hide out in a hotel for a few days before we got to Atlanta.  I requested my own room of course, the supply I just bought felt like it was burning a hole in my pocket. Isn’t that what they say about money? 

Money meant nothing to me; if I lost it all tomorrow, I wouldn’t care. That’s the beauty of this drug, you don’t have a care in the world once that shot courses through your veins. 

I lock the door to my room after saying goodnight and head into the bathroom. I pull my shirt over my head and undo the belt from my jeans. I set everything up on the table: fresh needle, the drugs, and water bottle cap.  It doesn’t take long for me to pull the dope into the syringe, at this point it’s like riding a bike for me. I sit on the floor against the bathtub, I wrap the belt around my left arm, pulling it tight with my teeth and clench my fist. I see the most perfect vein pop up in the bend of my arm; I have to be careful though, I can’t go to the same spot twice or else I’ll blow up my veins and then more people will notice.  I’ve always hated needles, isn’t that ironic? I’m thinking that as the tip of it pinches my skin and my thumb is on the trigger, slowly pushing it down.

“A spoon full of sugar makes the medicine go down…” I sing softly, feeling the sweet burn of the heroin flow like a tsunami in my veins. My eyes flutter close as the most beautiful feeling overcomes me; my head lulls back against the porcelain and I feel a smile grace my lips. 

A loud knock at my door startles me out of my high, and I’m pissed. 

“Hang on a second.” I mutter and awkwardly pull myself up, undoing the belt from my arm. I place the cap on the needle and toss it behind the doors under the sink. 

Knock knock knock knock knock

I toss my sweatshirt over my head, putting a cigarette to my lips. “Yeah, I hear you! Fuck, I’m coming.” 

I open the door to find Gareth standing there with his arms crossed, I light the cigarette and wave my hand, tilting my head at him. “Yeah?” 

“What are you doing?” He asks me. 

“What do you mean what am I doing? I’m not doing anything.” I inhale on the cigarette, and he continues to stare at me. If there was a God, I thank him for giving me brown eyes, because at least he wouldn’t be able to see how my pupils look like pinholes. “Do you wanna come in?” 

I move to the side, and he walks by me, I shut the door, locking it. 

“Do you want a beer or anything?” I ask him, going into the mini fridge, pulling out two, I could feel myself about to nod, but I quickly stand up, clearing my throat so I can at least look like I’m not fucked up. 

“No, I’m fine.” His eyes scan every inch of my room, the floor where my clothes were, Sweetheart laying on the foot of my bed. My necklace I always wore with the red guitar pick laid on the nightstand by the bed. I always take it off before I shoot up, I don’t know why, I think something is going to happen to it if I don’t, it means a lot to me. His eyes fix on my belt on the bathroom floor, he doesn’t say anything, but I know what he’s thinking. 

“Gareth, if you got something to say, man, just say it.” I tell him, leaning against the small table, I ash my cigarette into a coca cola can. 

He turns to me; he was still blessed with a baby face that I remember from school. “How bad is it getting?” He almost whispers.

“How bad is what getting?” 

“The drugs, man. Come on dude, I know you’re not stupid.” He sits across from me on the foot of the bed, gently moving Sweetheart over. 

I sigh. “Gareth, I’m fine. It’s not getting bad.”

He puts his head down, shaking his head. “Don’t fucking bull shit me, Eddie. I’ve known you for almost two decades. Have you even looked at yourself lately?”

I close my eyes, feeling a wave of anxiety hit my lower gut, and I force it to go away by not caring. “Don’t worry about me, man. I’m serious.”

“Of course, I’m gonna fucking worry!” He stands up, his face full of rage. “If you fuck up this tour, our entire music career is in the gutter! How many times have I had to bail you out when you’ve been coming down from a cocaine binge and are late to rehearsal? How many goddamn times have I had to convince cops not to arrest you when you’re inebriated beyond belief. It’s getting fucking old, man.” He towers over my 6-foot frame and again, I start laughing. 

His eyes widen. “Are you seriously laughing right now? 

“Yeah.” I chuckle. “I am, because it’s funny how you think I’m gonna be the one who’s gonna fuck up this tour. I built this band from the ground up, nothing and no one is gonna fuck that up.”

“Oh fuck you, dude!” He yells at me. “You built this? What happened to you saying this entire band was built on friendship, loyalty and fucking friends who play nerdy games? What happened to that Eddie?” 

“Dead.” I give him a sideways smile. “Dead dead dead.” 

He looks at me incredulous. “Wow. You’re an actual nightmare.” 

“You’re the one who decided to knock on my door.” I place the cigarette in the can, hearing it sizzle out. I cross my arms over my chest, already itching for another shot. “Anything else?” 

He scoffs, walking towards the door and stepping out. “No. Have a good night, Eddie.” 

“Yeah, you too!” I scream at his back as I shut the door, locking all the locks and kicking the bottom of it. Suddenly, the chair near the table gets a boot from me, followed by the lamp, the paintings on the walls. I smash the beer bottles against the windows, and when I’m finally spent, I collapse on the bathroom floor, digging out the needle. I’ll leave the hotel a couple hundred dollars to pay for whatever I damaged; I’ll hopefully remember to clean up tomorrow.

I’m pretty sure I put too much in it this time, because I’m riding something wild right now. My eyes are half lidded, my breathing is slow but it’s such a peaceful feeling.

“Makes the medicine go down…medicine go down…”

The beginning of that year was when shit started going downhill fast for me. Once I had gotten my panic attack under control, and I felt calmer, I sent you a text message, realizing that tomorrow was the 18th. I typed up, deleted, typed up, deleted, about six different times before finally sending you: Hey stranger, it’s Eddie. Pretty wild to hear from you. I’m currently up in my cabin in upstate NY, but if you are gonna be in Boston. I can make the trip. It would actually be awesome to see you. Hope you are well. 

I forgot how nervous you made me, even back then. You were such a kind, beautiful soul, who loved me and took care of me when I didn’t deserve it. I was so nervous all the time because I really loved you too, but I couldn’t…wouldn’t let myself feel it. You were the only woman in my life that knew me, and actually saw me. You were my best friend, always my partner in group activities in elementary school. It was us against the world the minute I kissed you for the first time when we were eighteen, and then it ended with me, burying my head in the sand, because I’m a fucking idiot. 

My phone dings and I see your name pop up.  Hey!!! Wow, your own cabin huh? Are you a mountain man or something this winter season? I’m sorry if my letter was all over the place, I really should’ve just texted you but, whatever. Here we are now. Yes! Let’s meet, I can give you a spot to meet for coffee? Unless you just want my aunt’s address, I don’t know how Boston is when it comes to famous people. 

I type up a message: Boston is one of those cities that is wild to play on stage in front of, but the people don’t give a fuck if you’re famous. Which is why I bought a condo there, I can live out some downtime in peace. Coffee sounds great. Just let me know a time when you are settled. 

You quickly respond: Ha! Boston is pretty rad. I’m already here, I got here a day early. I know you got a pretty long drive so we can meet the day after tomorrow if you’d like? Say around 10?

I type up that that time and date worked for me and begin packing a small suitcase to take with me on the trip. 

I honestly felt like I was dreaming all this; I get sober, you, a woman that was literally the one that got away because of my own fucking deep-rooted issues, comes back into my life and wants to see me? I feel like I’m living the Notebook. Except, the rated R version where Ryan Gosling is an ex-junkie, who doesn’t build houses, or used to blow cocaine off a woman’s asshole. 

I groan, I already know I’m gonna fuck this up again. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The coffee shop you chose was a place I’ve never been before, it seemed newer, and no one batted an eye when I walked in. I take off my sunglasses and scan the place. It was quaint, quiet, with rustic undertones but mostly modern. 

“Eddie?”

My eyes immediately fix on you, sitting in the back booth by a small window, and I feel my heart flutter down to my stomach. God, you were stunning. Your eyes still shone that sparkle in them, your smile was just as adorable as I remembered, especially the dimples in your cheeks. I whisper your name and find myself quickly walking towards you. You wrap your arms around my shoulders, and I let out a deep sigh, almost lifting you off your feet, as I hug the curves of your waist, burying my face into your shoulder. We stay like that for a while, you giggle into my chest, telling me you couldn’t believe it was me and that I was here. I didn’t want to let go, but I knew I had to. We pull away and you are still smiling, looking into my eyes, you lift your hand to gently curl your fingers into my hair and I smile at you. 

“I love that you still kept this hair.” You say, shaking your head, looking like you’re still trying to process that I’m standing in front of you. 

I gently cup your face, swallowing hard, studying you. You turn your cheek into my hand, and I slowly remove it. You nod for me to sit, and I scoot over into the booth, peeling off my leather jacket. I still stare at your face; I couldn’t believe you were real. The server comes over to take our coffee order, I get mine hot with triple espresso and a shot of caramel, and you get an iced coffee with a shot of vanilla and almond milk. I smile, you’ve kept the same order since you started drinking coffee. 

Your eyes fix on mine, and I smile at you, sipping my coffee. “You haven’t changed.” I tell you softly. 

“My back will have to disagree with you.” You laugh, spinning the straw with your finger. “You haven’t either, aside from more tattoos.” 

I smile; remembering that you were there for most of my smaller ones. I had convinced you back then to get a large tattoo that started from under your breast, all the way down to the top of your hip; that was always my favorite part of you to taste. I cross my legs, feeling a tingle in my lower belly. Fucking pervert. 

I notice a few finger tattoos on your right hand, and I nod to them. 

“I told you they were addicting.” I laugh. “How many do you have now?” 

You laugh, a sound so beautiful to my ears, I want to cry. “Sixteen? Seventeen?”

My eyes widen and I laugh. “No way! Let me see.” 

You meet my eyes, your face turning crimson. Of course, there were hidden ones, I immediately feel like I overstepped and go to apologize when you speak. “It’s a lot of random ones, all over. I added some stuff to the rib piece.” That one you show me, you lift up your sweater, and I feel my dick twitch. 

Pervert. Dirty pervert. It’s been fifteen years, put your dick away. 

The cluster of wildflowers that started from your ribs to your hip had added roses to different spots they ended up entwining into a beautiful ivy vine, before falling off towards your back. I notice the bottom of a small piece on your sternum, and you pull your sweater back down. 

“That’s beautiful.” I tell her, smiling. “What have you been doing these last fifteen years?” 

“Well, I moved out of Hawkins.” I smile at that, she always wanted to leave that place. “I moved to Maine, I bought myself my own little cabin in the woods. I’m a nurse at the local hospital there.” 

My heart practically bursts with pride, and I laugh. “See? You don’t have to be famous to have your own cabin. That’s wonderful, I know that was always a dream of yours, becoming a nurse.”

“Yeah, it’s fulfilling. Heartbreaking 99% of the time but fulfilling.” Your eyes fix on mine again, and we just share comfortable silence as we stare at one another. 

“Your eyes are sad.” You say suddenly. 

“What?” I snap myself back down to my reality; it was easy to get lost in your eyes. 

“You look like you’ve been through hell and back again. Sorry for being blunt, I’m just sorry for whatever is bothering you.” Your eyes show me that same familiar kindness, and I smile awkwardly at you.  

“I’m okay.” I tell you, only half lying. 

You place your hand over my ringed fingers, gently entwining them. I stare at our hands, and gaze back into your eyes. “What am I doing here?” I whisper to you. I can feel my heart do another back flip, and my brain screams at me to get up and run because I can still feel your love. 

Your fingers gently move over the bumps on my rings, and your eyes dart to mine. You spot the small silver chain around my neck, half tucked in my shirt, and you lift your hand to gently pull out the red guitar pick. You finger the plastic and smile. “Wow. You kept this all these years.” 

“Of course, I did. I never take it off.” Except when I used to shoot dope, but that’s beside the point. I swallow the lump in my throat. “Sweetheart, why am I here?” 

You sigh, giving me a sad smile. “Would it be weird if I said that I really fucking miss you? And for the last fifteen years, I haven’tstopped thinking about you.” 

Heart exploding. 

My breath hitches and my eyes widen slightly. “But…I hurt you…and I left—"

“I know, I know you did, but” you take my hand again. “Eddie, we were best friends. Since before we could even say those words. You were so important to me. You’re still important to me. How could we throw that away?” 

I stare at you, reading your face, gazing at the shape of your mouth, the way your hair falls in waves, the curves of your breasts. I squeeze my eyes shut, pulling my hand away from yours. “You wouldn’t think that anymore once you know what I’ve done, who I’ve become.” 

“Then tell me.” You say softly, your eyes dart from my lips, to my eyes. I stare at your lips, remembering how perfectly they fit against mine, how soft they were. How eager you would be when your tongue would slip into my mouth, deepening the kiss, your soft moans vibrating against my mouth as I carefully push myself inside you. 

I meet your eyes; you’re waiting for me to say something. I shake my head, running my hands over my hair. I sigh. “How long you got?” 

You look at your wrist at a fake watch. “About a week.” I laugh and lean back in my seat, sipping my coffee. 

Yeah, I missed you too. 

*~*~*~*~*~*

Special shout out to: @trixyvixx @originalstar1 @iggyizalien @themorticians-world

& so many of you who supported my last series.

I wouldn’t continue writing if it weren’t for you guys giving me the motivation to do it. Love you all!

[gretavanbrie]

Dreadful Reminders (J.T.K)

Summary: The brewing tension in your relationship seems to be pulling your love at the seams. What will happen when what is supposed to be happy news, only tears you apart further. Is one mindless phone call the end of it all?

Pairings: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Warnings: ANGST, angst, andddd more angst, established relationship, asshole jake :(, Jake being mean, I can’t say much without spoiling but talks of pregnancy, swearing, doors slamming, feelings of being unwanted, hurt feelings, alcohol consumption… if I missed anything lmk!!

A/N: This idea has been circling my brain for weeks and I’ve finally decided to act on it, so here it is!! If you guys like this enough ill upload part 2, I’ve already got that one going and smut will be included ;))

It started off as hums of yes’s and no’s, dismissing waves out the door instead of proper goodbyes. The kisses no longer cherished, instead rushed. Love with Jake was once full of passion and eagerness, stolen glances from across the room much alike youthful school crushes. The lingering touches, the spontaneous arrival of perfectly bloomed floral arrangements just to say “thought of you”.

Handwritten notes every morning you awoke together almost as though they were incantations, spiraling more and more in love with each letter scribbled across dingy post-it notes. 5 and 1/2 years of irrevocable love, now slowly tearing at the seams like over-worn clothing. The innocence of it all was what preserved the love. What you failed to realize was growing up stripped that completely.

The day you found out was bittersweet. Jake left for a meeting with the boys shortly after your heated argument over god knows what, it seems as though any minor inconvenience is means for harshness and disagreements at this point. Your shaky hands hastily pick up the test after waiting for what seemed like hours.

Pregnant.

You covered your mouth not only in awe but in fear. You frantically searched for a second test in the box to solidify this outcome before sharing the news with anyone. You picked at your fingernails as you waited, a nervous habit you couldn’t seem to shake.

Is Jake even ready for this?

Did I just ruin his life?

How could we be so stupid, we’re so young.

The seemingly deafening sound of the timer shook you out of your now swarming thoughts. You hurriedly picked up the second test only to be met with the same prognosis as before. It’s not that you didn’t want the baby. Of course you both have talked about kids in the future but with how things have been between the two of you, you were sure an end to your most cherished love was nearing.

You’ve wanted a family with Jake, just not now. He is doing so well in his career, the band is skyrocketing. You almost feel selfish for wanting this. Would this set him back? You’ve both been so wrapped up in your own lives these past few weeks, him with the band and you overloading yourself with work. Things have been rocky. You feel as though you’ve become a burden to the person you love and cherish most.

No more late night whispers and giggles shared under the covers, the longing gentle touches underneath the twilight seemed to cease. Coffee together in the morning, a once cherished act of quality time.. now a mere chore. What was once intimate and passionate sex, now rushed solely to let his frustrations out. Only to be met with the saddening view of his back turned away as though you’ve become an eyesore, not worthy of being touched for longer than need be. The love that once flowed through your shared house, now stagnant. The tension almost suffocating. This is a whole new level you’re ready to take on, but is he?

You paced the bedroom wracking your brain on how to tell him for the next half hour before you hear the sound of the door slamming shut and the heavy patter of boots walking along the hardwood floors. Your heart thumps in anticipation like the mockery of a drum. The bedroom door swings open and a frustrated Jake appears throwing his keys off to the armchair.

Without making eye contact he walks past merely whispering “hey babe, bad day.” before shutting the door to the bathroom. Before you can be upset about his short greeting, your eyes widen in shock as you realize you never took the tests off the sink. Just as you were about to interfere your met with a puzzled Jake standing before you, the two tests clutched in his grasp. You two lock eyes and you swear he can hear your heartbeat from the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Anything you wanna tell me?”

He looks at you sternly. You almost feel like a child being scolded.

“I found out just before you got here I was trying to figure out how to tell you” You reply shakily, nervous to hear his response. You look down in shame and continue.

“I know things have been tough between us and we haven’t talked about it and that’s okay, if you’re stressed out about work stuff with the band I completely understand but I’m just as scared as you might be. We can work through this, I know we can. We’ve talked about kids before i think the plans are just a bit rushed, that’s all” you say hopefully with a shy smile.

Jake doesn’t say anything, just stares at you and then slowly brings his gaze to the two white sticks in his hands. He feels his heart thumping, a man usually well spoken now not finding the right words to say.

He opens his mouth to say something then swiftly shuts it again before clenching his jaw. The suspense killing you, you speak up.

“My Jake… please say something” your voice almost failing you as tears well in your eyes.

Oh god, he’s gonna leave you. You think to yourself. Just as your thoughts are about to spiral out of control he breaks the silence.

“I know I’ve been distant and i want to apologize it’s not right. There’s just been… things…weighing on me, I didn’t know how to navigate them and I shut you out. I’m sorry my love. And I’m sorry again for being so unsupportive right now it’s been a stressful day” he calmly says.

“C’mere” he whispers as he pulls you in his embrace “everything is gonna be okay” he says, stroking your hair almost as though he’s trying to convince himself.

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

The next few days seemed a little better Jake seemed to be genuinely trying and you were nothing short of appreciative. This was all you wanted, your Jake to be back.

The two of you are still planning on how to reveal the news to everybody. Today in particular seemed off. You arose to the sun seeping into the windows, curtains blowing as you mistakenly left the window open the night before. You’re expecting to be met with the warmth of Jake’s sleeping body lying next to yours. Instead nothing but a cold pillow and his barely-there scent.

No goodbye kiss? That’s weird.

Fully awake now, you peer over to your side to check your phone for any texts from him and see a note lying there.

“Got called into a last minute group meeting, see you soon.”

All my love,

Jake.”

Prying the covers off you, you feel an overwhelming sense of nausea. Not able to suppress it you run into the bathroom and alleviate the brewing sickness. You pick yourself up from in front of the now tainted porcelain, you start the shower and begin brushing your teeth. You fix up for the day, changing into a baggy crew neck sweatshirt of Jakes and some leggings. You head downstairs and finish up some mundane tasks that need to be tackled around the house.

Feeling proud of what you’ve accomplished so far with this first trimester nausea, you decide to surprise Jake with one of his favorite recipes of yours. Although it may not have the same comfort as Karen’s cooking, you hope this alleviates him of some stress anyway.

Sliding on some shoes , grabbing your purse and keys you make your way out to round up some last minute ingredients. You make your laps around the store collecting your items for supper. On your way home you hear a buzzing sounding from inside your bag. You pick up the device and see Joshua in big letters across the screen. Bringing the phone to your ear you greet the curly headed boy.

“Hello?” You call into the phone.

“Hey y/n! Jake with you? Daniel and I just got an idea we wanna try out and he hasn’t gotten back to me” he says cheerfully

“Um no…he said he was with you guys this morning” you reply

“Oh wait! Hold on he’s calling me. Call you later! Love you!” He shouts excitedly, dismissing your previous response and hanging up.

Your stomach churns at the thought of Jake lying about where he was. He’s never done it before, why start now? You thought everything was okay now, that he was just as excited to welcome another life into your home as you are. Before the overthinking floods your mind you pull into yours and Jake’s driveway seeing his car already parked out front, a wave of relief washes over you. Maybe he wasn’t lying, maybe he just left early.

You gather the groceries and make your way inside excited to tell him what your plans for the night are. You close the door behind you making your way into the kitchen setting the bags down before heading to your shared bedroom to grab a hair tie.

As you pass his music room you hear him talking on the phone. Assuming it’s still josh you think nothing of it until you hear your name in the conversation. Stopping in your tracks you listen closely to the words being spoken. Any other day you would have respected his privacy but your gut was telling you to tune in on whatever this convo may be about. Pressing your ear against the door frame you hear

“…It’s been so shit josh, I’m torn. Theres been this weird tension that i know I’m probably the cause of because she’s been nothing but patient and understanding with me but the arguments have been multiplying and I don’t even know if i can continue on, i feel so guilty” you feel a sinking feeling in your gut as tears well in your eyes. It’s silent for a moment, assuming josh is speaking on the other end. Your interest is piqued again as Jake continues on.

“It was fun because we were young. She’s so incredibly special to me, you have no idea but we’re not even married and we weren’t planning on it anytime soon we wanted to continue traveling and experimenting with each other. I’ve loved her for so long it feels like i need to experience more, something different. I didn’t think I’d have to settle down so soon. I don’t know man. Is this even right for me anymore? Am i even cut out to be a dad? I thought i wanted this with her and only her but we’re gone for so long out of the year Josh. It’s becoming overbearing almost. I need space from her to think things through but she’s always there, a dreadful reminder of the mistake we made.” He exclaims.

“It feels like I’m only with her for the baby.” He finishes.

You hear a heavy sigh before prying your ears away, not bearing another second as it feels as though you’ve been sucker punched in the gut.

A mistake? After all the time you two have spent together and now the only thing seemingly holding you two together, is the baby? Why couldn’t he have voiced these thoughts earlier? If he wanted space to think about things you would’ve worked something out.

Now letting the tears fall freely, you start blaming yourself for not noticing the signs earlier and thinking how you could’ve prevented this. Was this a mistake? 5 almost 6 years and not once did you think your Jake would tear your heart in two like this. Especially now that you’re carrying the undeniable manifestation of your guy’s love.

The tears now flowing ten fold, you’re broken from your thoughts as the door swings open. Jakes eyes go from frightened to apologetic. His facial expression now long and sorrowful seeing your tear stained cheeks. He just stares at you for a moment, unsure of what to say.

“How long have you been here?” He says weakly

“Long enough.” You quipped. “Have all the space you desire, Jacob.” You say as you angrily wipe the tears from your face.

Turning on your heel you head into your bedroom to frantically pack your bags as what once were the walls of your home, comforting and inviting… now suffocating. Jake is hot on your heels spewing out apologies a mile a minute. Your head is everywhere but here, a million thoughts circling your brain as you focus on grounding yourself.

Choked sobs escape your mouth as you realize this sick twisted nightmare is real and the only person you longed to share a family with is rejecting that reality. How foolish of you to believe your rockstar boyfriend would want to settle down so early with you. Sure it was poor timing but you thought your love was stronger than that. Maybe he didn’t love you as much as you thought he did, at least not anymore.

“Baby please say something i didnt mean it, I don’t know what i was saying.” He tries reaching for your hand. As you pry away from his grasp, his own eyes well up.

‘You know full well what you were saying, Jacob Thomas.” You reply your voice laced with venom as you slam the bedroom door in his face, locking it. You sit on the edge of his side of the bed just letting the sobs wrack through your body, hands smoothing over the barely there bump forming. Jake sits just opposite of the door listening in hoping he could find the right words to fix this.

He knows he was being melodramatic, he loves you how every fish in the sea loves water. You were his air, consuming his lungs like an aching necessity. He loves you like dry ground loves rain, just waiting to be basked in the showers of your outpouring affection. He loves you like all the stars and the moon love the night sky, as though you were home to him… as if it was natural to love you. Like there was no other being on this earth that was made to love him how you do. You were molded for him and he was mindless to not realize the immense amount of luck he had in being able to call you his. He struck gold and paid it no mind.

Dread now filling his every muscle, his throat closing as he realizes the severity of his actions. He hears ur pained cries muffled through the door and desperately wishes he could take it all back.

“Baby please, come on.. i know there’s no excuse just let me fix this…. Please” he chokes out meekly. He steps back surprised as the door swings open, a duffel bag of your necessities slung over your shoulder. You see the hurt flash across his eyes as he makes eye contact, a silent plea to hear him out once he realizes what’s happening.

“Enough Jake. Don’t sit here and feel sorry for yourself. Enlighten me, if i hadn’t heard that conversation would you have come back out as though everything was normal. A blatant lie to my face. Were you gonna voice this to me at all? Instead I’m being labeled to ur brother as a “dreadful reminder”. If you’re only with me for the baby Jake…” you look down taking a deep breath trying to tame the aching lump in your throat before you continue on.

“I’ve made the decision for you. I need space.” you finish, swiftly pushing past him.

“No no no no no..” he starts hot on your trail

“Im not just with you for the baby, y/n. You mean so much more to me than that i- i was being stupid and selfish and i got caught up in my own personal fears it blinded me to the gift right of front of me. I swear y/n i was speaking out of my ass the arguments have been getting to me and I felt the lack of emotional intimacy i thought we were done for. When i came home the day we found out, I had been planning on talking to you about it. We lost our spark and i lost my motivation to try. And then seeing those tests i just freaked, i mean… can you blame me? This is fucking scary y/n!” You stared at him in silence taking in what he had to say, carefully calculating your response.

“I understand its scary, you forget I’m the one carrying it as well. You don’t think i feel guilty for essentially putting a pause on your career? And with these newfound hormones this is incredibly nerve-wracking especially with the lack of your emotional support! we’re supposed to be in this together! And you’ve done nothing but treat me as if we haven’t spent the last 5 long years of our life in unison Jacob! Do you know how frustrating it is to fall asleep every night next to a man who barely acknowledges your presence?! The person you fucking love completely dismissing your existence like I’m some fucking burden! You have no idea the fear that ran through my body seeing those tests in the midst of….. whatever the fuck this is!!” You exclaim waving your arms around gesturing to the now broken home. Tears now cascading endlessly down your face. You take a deep breath to collect yourself seeing how you’ve let your emotions overpower the logic needed right now.

“….that was just another level of low Jacob. You’re not you. I think we need time” you continue on teary-eyed. Voice weak from the amount of crying you’ve done tonight.

You hear him calling out for you but its all muffled by the heart-shattering sound of your world seemingly crashing down around you. Tears well in your eyes as you turn to see a heartbroken, disheveled jake standing before you pleading you not to go.

‘I love you, always will.” is the last thing you say before Jakes walls come tumbling down by the sound of the door slamming shut, tears clouding his vision.

“How selfish can you be?” he thinks to himself, rubbing his face in distress.

Cracking open a bottle of whiskey he pads into the kitchen seeing all the ingredients laid out for what would’ve been his favorite dinner. Untouched.. just lying there, a dreadful reminder of the detrimental effect of his actions. He falls asleep drunkenly on the kitchen floor that night, longing for your love and warmth to consume him again.

Fin.

[tickles-tea]

Testing Virtues

I know I’m cutting it extremely close but the day isn’t over yet! Anyway, without further ado, merry belated Christmas to @happyandticklish !! In a very funny turn of events, I ended up being your secret Santa for Squealing Santa 2023 ^^ I hope you enjoy this fic of Izaya fucking around and finding out ~ Also, a big thank you to @hypahticklish / @squealing-santa for hosting the event!!

Summary: After realizing that Shizuo is in a rather affectionate mood, Izaya decides to put his patience to the test. Word count: 2.8k

Shizuo Heiwajima could be a difficult man to read.

Despite how clearly he expressed his rage, it could be tricky to read between the lines of his surprisingly aloof resting face. Whether he was perfectly content or one second away from snapping, one could never guess.

At least, that’s what Izaya used to think.

After what he would reluctantly call ‘dating’ the man for several years now, Izaya could decipher his expressions with the ease of someone who had dedicated their life to the art. These little tells were so clear to him now, he couldn’t believe that he’d been completely oblivious to them in the past.

Like how Shizuo’s honey-gold eyes would light up with a childlike spark whenever they’d pass by a pastry shop. His lips were unmoving but his desires were spoken loud and clear. It was without a word from Shizuo that Izaya would lead them into the shop with teases already loaded on his tongue.

And when Shizuo’s shoulders hunched tight with tension-the line of them more solid than the stop signs he crushed beneath his fists- Izaya knew to keep his jabs light but deliberate. It was a bit of a balancing act, teetering between slightly bothersome and truly irritating. However, it was worth watching that harsh line ease whenever a particularly crude quip caught Shizuo off guard enough to make him laugh.

Izaya could always tell what Shizuo was feeling or wanting or needing.

But he wasn’t always generous enough to give it to him. Not without making him put in the work first.

When Izaya awoke to warm kisses being pressed to his neck and fingers creeping up his shirt with fluttery touches, he knew what kind of day it would be. 

It was the hesitation that gave it away, really; the slow progression, as if waiting for permission when they were both far past the point of being shy.

This particular mood didn’t strike Shizuo often, but it was always fun when it did. 

Izaya did nothing to dissuade him, and Shizuo’s touches grew more deliberate with increasing confidence the longer Izaya didn’t protest. A grin pulled at Izaya’s lips, but it had little to do with the hands that lightly tickled at his waist. Because as soon as it started, Izaya was sitting up and away, stretching his arms above his head with a groan. He turned to look down at his bed partner with a sleep-heavy smirk. “It’s not like Shizu-chan to be up so early. I don’t suppose you wanted to join in on my meeting this morning?”

Shizuo blinked away the drowsy confusion at the abrupt shift, now scrunching his nose with distaste as he registered Izaya’s words. “Don’t say stupid things…” He grumbled, a frustrated crease in his brow. He waited for a beat, and when Izaya only stared back at him with a knowing smile, he clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Can’t you stay in bed a little longer? I thought you said that wasn’t until ten.”

Even though Izaya was sure it was meant to be a frown, the unhappy twist of Shizuo’s lips could only be described as a pout.

“The early bird gets the worm and all that. We can't all afford to sleep in, you know?” Izaya chirped back, keeping the banter light despite the intentions already solidifying in his mind. “If you want to stay in bed though, be my guest. I can wake you up once my client’s gone.”

It was a simple offer but Shizuo still took his time answering. He looked at Izaya for a long few moments, lips pursed on indecision and his hands still resting idle on Izaya’s waist, before he let out a resigned breath through his nose and pulled his hands away. “Mm, yeah, that’s fine.”

And though he nuzzled back into the pillow and closed his eyes without any more complaints, Izaya didn’t miss the way his restless hands twitched with restraint.

-

True to his word, Izaya woke Shizuo up a few hours later once his client had left with a heavier heart and lighter pockets. He hadn’t spared too much time on the task of waking him; only ducking into the bedroom with a drawled out “Shizuuuu-chaaan~” and tossing an apple at his head when he didn’t stir. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it and it wouldn’t be the last, but Izaya still couldn’t help but snicker when Shizuo exited the room a few minutes later with the half eaten apple in hand.

Izaya watched as Shizuo finished it off in a few bites and threw away the core before immediately making his way over to Izaya’s desk. Strong arms wrapped around his waist from behind as Shizuo leaned in to kiss the crook of his neck. “Good mornin’,” he rumbled, breath hot against Izaya’s skin.

“It’s noon, Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo grumbled in mild annoyance. “Then good afternoon, you pest.”

He squeezed Izaya slightly to punctuate his words. However, his groused frustration was countered by those gentle fingers tapping at Izaya’s sides again. And just as before, they were light, questioning. “You busy?”

Not even the rough edge of sleep still clinging to his voice could conceal the quiet hopefulness behind his words. 

He ghosted fluttery kisses along the line of Izaya’s throat to spread goosebumps across his skin- once again testing the waters. 

And once again Izaya grinned.

“Oh~ What’s this? Did Shizu-chan need me for something?” Izaya questioned in a playful drawl, tensing beneath Shizuo’s touch. He traced mindless shapes on Izaya’s sides, veering closer to his belly to scrape the ghost of his fingernails over the sensitive skin. It took an impressive amount of restraint for Izaya to not react to the ticklish shivers that ran through his nerves.

“Izaya…” he started, shifting to murmur into Izaya’s ear to make him twitch. “C-“

He barely had a second to begin before Izaya was interrupting to answer his own question.

“-because I’m afraid I don’t have time to spare right now,” he clarified, spinning in his chair to face him and knocking his hands away in the process. The sigh in his voice was just subtle enough to pass as truly apologetic. At least somewhat. “Can it wait?”

Tipping his head up to meet Shizuo’s eyes, Izaya was met with an expression he knew well. Thick brows furrowed on growing frustration and a troubled twist to his lips because he couldn’t find a reason to be truly upset. A rarity for Shizuo, but even he could respect when someone was busy. 

He didn’t need to know that Izaya had just been playing sudoku before he walked in. It was his fault, really, for being fooled by the random document Izaya had pulled up at the last second. 

With another one of those pouty scowls, Shizuo gently knocked his forehead against Izaya’s.

“Later.”

It was a question despite bearing the bluntness of a statement.

“Later~”

-

Judging by the restless padding of feet across the hardwood floor and the too long-stares sent his way, Izaya knew that ‘later’ couldn’t come soon enough for Shizuo. 

He wasn’t exactly known for his patience and Izaya hadn’t exactly been making it easier on him. But that’s what was fun about these kinds of days, and who could blame him when Shizuo had such entertaining reactions? 

It was amusing to watch Shizuo clench his fists at his sides when Izaya stretched, raising his arms high above his head with a pleased groan as if he was oblivious to Shizuo’s plight. 

He’d nearly choked on his glass of milk when Izaya reached for a book on a high shelf, which caused his shirt -untucked for once- to raise and reveal a sliver of his belly. When Izaya had turned to look at him, Shizuo was staring resolutely at the ceiling as he chugged the rest of the glass.

It was terribly endearing when Shizuo thought he was being discreet. However, there was nothing subtle about how tightly his jaw was clenched when Izaya had him fetch a glass of water for the ‘tickle in his throat’.

Perhaps Izaya would feel more guilty about riling Shizuo up when he was asking for what he wanted so sweetly, but it was just too easy.

Izaya was an opportunist at heart, after all.

-

This secret game of his continued for another two hours, with Izaya coming up with new and subtle ways to drive Shizuo mad. Izaya was honestly impressed with how well Shizuo was holding up, but all things must come to an end, and Shizuo’s streak of patience was no exception. 

His breaking point came when Izaya settled into his chair, picked up a stack of documents, and kicked his feet up onto the desk. It must have been that it was so uncharacteristic of Izaya to ‘rest’ in such a vulnerable position that Shizuo was tipped off to Izaya’s scheming. Or perhaps it was pure coincidence that his fuse happened to burn out at that moment. Either way, Izaya wasn’t too upset when Shizuo shot up from the couch and stomped over to his desk with red-tipped ears and a snarl.

“Oi, what’s up with that pose, huh?” Shizuo growled, leaning far over the desk to meet Izaya face to face. His arms were tense with restless energy where they held his weight against the desk, bracing on either side of Izaya’s legs. 

Izaya smiled pleasantly at him. “Hm? Aren’t I allowed to be comfortable while I work?”

Shizuo glared down at him- and if looks could kill, Izaya would be six feet under. 

“You look a little too comfortable, if you ask me. Just how busy have you been, really?”

A strong hand wrapped around one of his ankles, and Izaya had to resist the urge to jerk his foot back on instinct. “Quite busy. You see, today I’m conducting an observational experiment of sorts. I suppose you could call it testing a beast’s ability to restrain itself and its needs in the face of temptation. Riveting stuff~”

Shizuo bared his teeth in an animalistic grin that sent a shiver of premonition down Izaya’s spine. “Oh yeah? What conclusion have you come to?” The grip tightening  around Izaya’s ankle might as well have been squeezing his lungs for how it caused his breath to falter in his chest. 

“That even beasts can possess an impressive level of patience and willpower, but even so, that control is temporary, and eventually they succumb to their urges. It’s in their nature, after all,” Izaya challenged with a smirk. However, his confidence couldn’t hide the way his hands clutched the arms of his chair in anticipation.

His heart was starting to thrum in his chest; because behind the irritation in Shizuo’s gaze, there was a certain glint in his eyes. Now that Shizuo knew of Izaya’s game, he was ready to play. 

Just the thought was enough to set off the butterflies in Izaya’s stomach.

“I see. If giving in is inevitable, why hold back at all then, right?” Shizuo gave him little warning before he was tugging at Izaya’s ankle to pull him closer and yanking him up by his shirt. Izaya yelped, trying not to knock over his monitors in his scramble for balance as he was pulled over and across the desk. He only had a second to be relieved that everything was intact before he was tossed over Shizuo’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Despite knowing that struggling was futile, Izaya fisted his hands in Shizuo’s shirt for stability and tried his best to kick at Shizuo’s thighs. If he felt the hits, he certainly didn’t show it. “Wait a second! What kind of brainless logic is that?!” He shouted, trying to twist his head around to see where he was being taken. He had an idea, and a turn towards the staircase confirmed it.

“Are you sure you should be mouthing off like that? Ah, but maybe you don't care since you’ve been asking for it all day,” Shizuo almost murmured to himself, his anger having faded to an infuriating breeziness.

Izaya’s cheeks flushed despite the absolute ridiculousness of that statement. “Me? Have you forgotten how many times you-!” His words were interrupted by a yelp when Shizuo gave a warning squeeze to his thigh. 

“Shut up.”

Any further protests from Izaya were met with more squeezes to his thighs, each one making him jump more than the last. Shizuo knew very well how sensitive his thighs were, and he was giving Izaya this chance to back down before he used that information against him. And while Izaya was not the kind of man to give up, every once in a while he could accept when he needed to concede. 

He had been orchestrating the setlist all day after all, and now it was time to face the choir. 

He wasn’t, however, expecting to be part of it, and the pitch his voice reached could put the star sopranos to shame. 

“Nahahaha! Shizu-chahahaha-!” His voice cracked on a cackle as Shizuo drilled his thumbs mercilessly into his hips. Upon entering their bedroom, Shizuo had wasted no time in tossing Izaya on the bed and relinquishing the control he’d been holding onto for the past few hours. And he seemed to be making up for the lost time if his zealous start was anything to go by. 

Izaya shook his head back and forth, frantically trying to pry Shizuo’s hands off of his waist, but there was no give to his iron grip. Izaya couldn’t help but wonder which would be easier to free yourself from: a bear trap or Shizuo’s merciless hold.

He quickly settled on the bear trap when Shizuo began kneading at his lower belly, sending sparks of sensitivity crackling across his nerves. “AH! Shit! Stahahahap, you beheheheast!” Izaya threw his head back on shrill laughter, his legs kicking wildly behind him in a stark contrast to Shizuo’s smug composure.

“What do you mean ‘stop’? You were showing off this spot earlier, weren’t you? You think I’m too stupid to notice you untucked your shirt before you stood up?” Shizuo drawled with a satisfied smirk. He suddenly switched from kneading to scratching lightly at Izaya’s belly to pull frenzied giggles from his lips. “It was like you were saying ‘please, please, please, tickle me here’.”

Izaya’s face lit up with a brilliant red flush at the realization. In teasing Shizuo over how much he wanted to get his hands on Izaya and tickle him to tears, Izaya had practically been asking for it the entire time without shame. What was even more mortifying was how-underneath the amusement at Shizuo’s struggle-he’d been just as eager for Shizuo to break. 

He’d choke to death on his own laughter before he ever admitted that though. 

“D-don’t blame me for your lack of self-control!” He scolded before falling into a fit of giggles when fingers skittered along his waistline. “Ehehehe! Wait, wait, wait!” 

His eyes widened into saucers when Shizuo suddenly caught his hands and pinned them above his head, learned anticipation thudding his heart against his chest.

“You were showing off this spot too, weren’t you?” Shizuo asked casually, impervious to the way Izaya tugged at his wrists like his life depended on it. “Can’t be helped then.” He followed his words with a shrug before spidering his fingers under Izaya’s arm with a practiced skill. 

The response was instantaneous; Izaya shrieked, arching his back in a desperate attempt to protect himself and failing to gain any reprieve. Shizuo knew all of the ways to drive Izaya up the wall and he wasn’t afraid to utilize them now. He was surprisingly thorough in moments like these- taking the time to try everything from rubbing his thumbs into the dip of Izaya’s underarms to lightly scritching at his biceps.

The latter had seemed merciful at first, as Izaya’s biceps weren’t normally that ticklish. He quickly learned that wasn’t the case, though, when Shizuo lingered there long enough for the sensation to become absolutely maddening. 

It took an embarrassingly long time for Izaya to find his words again, but of course he found a way to talk through the flood of mirth.

“Ahahaha! D-don’t try to act like this isn’t-“ his words were interrupted by a loud bark of laughter when suddenly Shizuo pinched at his upper ribs. “Like this isn’t whahahat you’ve been begging for all day!”

That seemed to finally get under Shizuo’s skin enough for him to scowl and lean in close. If Shizuo had to fight to keep that scowl from twitching up at the corners, neither of them mentioned it.

“Well, if this is what we both wanted, I guess I should go all out right?”

A shiver ran down Izaya’s back, and despite the squeals and protests that soon echoed through the apartment, Izaya couldn’t say that he minded it all that much. He could handle the fingers dancing along his skin, no longer restless now that they were focused on the goal of making him wheeze out desperate laughter. He could handle the lips pressing sweetly against his own, turning that same laughter muffled and breathless.

Shizuo had earned this fair and square, and in a way, so had Izaya.

Now all that was left was to enjoy the fruits of their labor. 

[moonbeamwritings]

a dinner date with gojo

pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

wc: 1.6k

warnings: none

← prev. date | next date →

“So,” Gojo asks, breaking you from your thoughts. “What do you say?”

And it’s in that moment, with embarrassment threatening to spill to the surface, you realize you hadn’t been listening much at all. A few minutes earlier, Gojo had cornered you in the hallway of Jujutsu High after a sorcerers’ meeting with the higher-ups. He rests an arm against the wall to stop you in your tracks, and Nanami shoots you a sympathetic look over his shoulder. 

You’d been so focused on the subtle flex of his muscles as he leaned, the curl of his lips, and the distractingly smooth sound of his voice, that you had completely lost focus.

Blinking dumbly, you bring your gaze up to meet his. “Uh, I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

“Too distracting, huh?” Gojo drops his head a bit, stooping to bring his face level with yours. He pouts in faux sympathy, and the expression floods you with annoyance. Stupid Gojo and his stupid face. “I know, I get that a lot.”

The roll of your eyes only seems to spur him on. “Aww, c’mon. Don’t be like that. You know I’m just teasing.”

Yeah, you think bitterly. That’s the problem. “What do you want, Gojo?”

“Well, what I was asking before someone...” He reaches out to tap the tip of your nose, smiling when you pout. “...got lost along the way, is if you wanted to go out to dinner with me next week.” He pauses for a moment, looking almost nervous before he clarifies, “For Valentine’s Day.”

This was not how you were expecting the conversation to go.

When he’d first trapped you against the wall, you were fully convinced he’d just pass busy work off to you or poke fun at you for something or tell you how great he is, like he always does, but this is a rare side of Gojo, and a vulnerable one at that. In the wake of your silence, Gojo brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck and adjust his blindfold. It’s cute.

You glance up at him and his lips quirk up almost sheepishly. You definitely can’t say no to that face. Returning his smile, you tell him, “I’d like that.”

His face brightens in an instant, smile almost blinding as he straightens up, bouncing on the balls of his feet not unlike a man who’s just won the lottery. “Oh yeah? You wanna be my valentine? I knew you couldn’t resist my charm.”

And there he was again — the Gojo you were so used to. Eyes rolling, you press a finger into his chest. “You keep that up and I’ll take it back. I’ll find someone else to be my valentine.”

Feigned hurt erupts across his features. “You wouldn’t dare.”

You shrug, nonchalant, ducking under his arm to make your way down the hallway. “Don’t test me, pretty boy.”

Gojo is on your heels in an instant. “Pretty? You think I’m pretty?”

The following week, Gojo picks you up at exactly 7 o’clock. He steps out of a sleek black car, dressed to absolute perfection in a perfectly tailored suit. He’s styled his hair so it’s off his face, though a stray lock curls down onto his forehead. He does everything a true gentleman should — opening doors for you, pulling out your chair at dinner. Hell, he’d even remembered your favorite type of wine, ordering it for the table with a wink and a charming smile. Every action stirs heat in the apples of your cheeks and a giddy feeling in your chest.

The restaurant is beautiful; an incredibly high-end place with expensive dishes and chandeliers twinkling where they hang from the ceiling. Little tea lights burn in the space between you, nestled on either side of a vibrant bouquet of red roses and baby’s breath. You lift one of the many forks and find that it’s heavy in your hold. Expensive. 

The couple beside you is decked out in damn near black tie attire, an elegant gown and a stylish black tux. You cringe, suddenly feeling very out of place and underdressed. You take a sip of your wine in hopes that the alcohol will help to dull your fraying nerves.

When Gojo told you it was a nice restaurant, you weren’t exactly expecting it to be this nice.

“You look beautiful.”

Gentle classical music drifts through your ears as you bounce your foot beneath the table. You’re only pulled from your thoughts when Gojo’s hand reaches across to close over yours.

“What’d you say?”

“You know, this seems to be a recurring problem with you.” He tilts his head and lifts a brow. “Am I really that distracting?”

When you don’t roll your eyes or even attempt a smile, Gojo drops the act. His smile is kind, tone gentle as he tells you, “I said you look beautiful.” He squeezes your fingers when he notices the expression on your face, one that cracks to expose the anxiety simmering beneath the surface. “Hey, are you alright?”

“I-” Your face flushes with embarrassment. Deflating, you sheepishly admit, “I feel a little...” Your free hand flops helplessly in the air as you struggle to find the right word, swirling about before returning to the table. “... out of place?”

Gojo’s brows furrow and he glances around the room. He looks at the couples on either side of you before his eyes follow the waiter and then the hostess, flicking over to the pianist before finally, after a long moment of silence, his piercing blue eyes greet yours again. His expression shifts, flickering with understanding. “Ahh, I see what you mean. You are the prettiest person here. I can only imagine the kind of stress that puts you under.”

His tone lilts with a hint of teasing, but you can sense the sincerity that weaves through his statement. You bite your lip before sighing. “That’s not what I mean, Gojo.”

“It’s the,” he clears his throat, head nodding in the direction of the uppity couple beside you. “clientele, isn’t it? The vibe?”

Your voice is small, almost sheepish. “A little.”

“I guess I should’ve warned you about it. Maybe I went a little overboard. I just wanted-,” He pauses, as if questioning his own words before his face softens. “I wanted today to be special, you know?” He shrugs. “You deserve it.”

The confident facade cracks, just as it had when he asked you out last week, to reveal a big, sappy heart. It’s another rare occurrence that stokes the affection for him brewing in your own.

You can’t help but smile as your foot ceases it’s bouncing, as the nerves start to dissipate. “I appreciate it. I think I just need to settle a bit.” You eye your wine glass. “And maybe have another glass of wine.”

“How about this?” Gojo asks suddenly, his finger moving to delicately trace the heart line on your palm — a gentle movement that tickles as much as it distracts you from his soft gaze. “We’ll skip dessert here, and I’ll take you to a bakery down the road.” He leans across the table and lowers his voice. “It’s a lot less...” He glances around the room almost judgmentally before his eyes return to yours, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “... stuffy. How does that sound?”

You capture his hand in yours again, weaving your fingers between his. “I would really like that.”

“Then consider it done.” Gojo falls silent as his eyes begin to scan the menu again, and you watch him for a moment before you draw his attention back to you with a gentle squeeze of his hand. “Gojo?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you.”

He grins, so wide and so cute it makes your heart stutter against your ribs. “Anything for my beautiful valentine.”

Your food orders and a few more glasses of wine spark light-hearted conversation, and before you realize it, your plate is empty and your cheeks are sore from laughing. Gojo bats your hand away when you offer to pay, but takes it again when you go to leave, leading you down the sidewalk to the bakery he mentioned.

He orders an extra large slice of chocolate chiffon cake and two forks and the two of you dig into the sweet treat, forks knocking against each other with each bite you take. The slice disappears in mere moments, and with only crumbs remaining, Gojo taps his fork against yours with a dull, metallic clink, a pleased smile on his face.

“That was delicious.” You watch as he inspects your face for a moment before gesturing to the corner of your mouth. “Oh, you have a little-.”

“Here?”

“Nope,” he leans into your space to swipe his thumb across the opposite corner, eyes flickering from your own to your lips. “Right here.”

With his proximity, you can’t help but lower your voice to a whisper. “Did you get it?”

“Mm,” he hums, lips now ghosting over yours, “I think I see another crumb.”

“Well, we don’t want that.”

“No, we don’t.”

The kiss he presses to your lips is chaste; the pressure there and then gone in a blink. When he pulls away, he captures your chin between his finger and thumb, holding you close. “I think I got it.”

“Thanks.”

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue, “maybe not.” He drags you in for another kiss and then another, and after no less than three kisses, he pulls away with an exaggerated huff. He smirks, all too pleased with himself at the heat he feels radiating from your cheeks. “There. I think I finally got it all.”

[chaotic-orphan]

June of doom, day 2:

“Get in”: survivor’s guilt // sobbing // salve

Is it really survivors guilt? Maybe. If you squint.

CW: captivity, forced captivity, trading places, rope as restraints, defenceless, self-sacrifice, implied murder, noose (explicit), choking

Idk how to tag I’m sorry…

*~*~*~*~*

Leader’s team stood behind them. Leader a little in front, all their weapons stripped from them. Their combat gear gone too. They just wore a plain white long sleeve shirt and a tracksuit as they faced Villain. They felt naked. Too exposed.

“You’ve taken me up on my offer then, Leader?”

“Me for my team, and Youngest.”

Youngest was beside Villain, trembling with their hands behind their back and trying not to show it. Leader’s eyes stayed on Villain because if they saw Youngest they’d probably lose it. If they focused too much on the visible bruises they’d flip their lid and then this whole hostage negotiation would have been for nothing.

“Of course. You first.”

“No, Youngest first.”

Villain tilted their head with a smile, “I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. Come to the middle and I’ll release Youngest.”

Leader scowled, but they obeyed and stopped halfway towards Villain. Villain’s smile only grew as they approached Leader with Youngest in front of them. When they got halfway, Villain flicked open a knife and Leader’s heart jolted but they didn’t react. That was what Villain wanted. A reaction.

Villain just smiled and cut the ropes holding Youngest’s arms behind their back and pushed them forward, saying: “go on now. It was a pleasure meeting you. Run back to your team.”

“Leader?” Youngest asked, unsure. Leader nodded.

“Go on. I’ll be fine.”

Youngest looked between Leader and Villain, then back to Leader, their eyes welling with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Youngest. Go.”

Villain pulled out two cords of rope and smiled at Leader, saying: “hands please.”

Leader offered them without any fight. Villain’s smile got bigger, as they tied the ropes so tight it nearly cut of Leader’s blood circulation. Leader tested the rope to see if it would give in any direction, but it didn’t budge even a little.

Villain winked when Leader raised their eyes to them, “Not my first time,” they said. Leader’s eyes went to the second cord of rope as Villain began tying it in their hand.

“You are so noble, Leader. Sacrificing yourself to save the one’s you love. I just don’t trust you as much as I did Youngest, poor pet, they were barely able to stay standing with how bad their legs were shaking. You on the other hand,” Villain said, intelligent eyes searching Hero’s face. “Well. I can’t trust you as far as I can throw you, so precautions are necessary. Think of it as an accessory.”

Then Villain threw the tied loop of rope over Leader’s head, down to their throat and grinned as they say the quickly extinguished spark of fear that crossed Leader’s eyes. Villain yanked them closer by the rope on their neck and Leader stumbled forward.

“Beautiful,” Villain whispered as they tightened the rope on Leader’s neck like a tie until Leader felt the rope enclose their neck, fitting snug. Then Villain tightened it more and Leader let out a soft cough. The rope was digging into Leader’s throat as they swallowed, and felt every bob of their muscle in the action. Villain wrapped the other side of the rope around their hand and turned back the way they came, tugging Leader along with them.

Like a dog.

Leader’s face burned with humiliation running hot through their veins. Their team was still there. Watching. Seeing them like this.

“Your team won’t be stupid enough to follow us, will they Leader?”

Leader looked back over their shoulder, gaze softening as they saw the anger and sorrow in each of their team’s faces. Youngest was sobbing into Medic’s shoulder and Leader wanted nothing more than to be there.

The rope tightened and Leader jerked forward, choking out a breath almost hitting the floor with their knees. Villain smiled innocently back at them. “No. They won’t follow,” said Leader.

“Good,” said Villain and tugged on the rope again for good measure. Leader grit their teeth, following behind Villain to their car at the back of the warehouse. The windows were tinted black, and Villain opened the door for Leader motioning them with their hand.

“Get in.”

Leader hesitated, and Villain tugged harder on the rope. Leader swallowed hard, raising their hands trying to alleviate some of the pressure but Villain tugged the rope harder.

“Ah, ah, ah,” said Villain, as Leader fell forward into them, barely catching themselves.

“Fuck, Villain!” Leader all but growled as Villain grabbed the knot on their leash and threatened to push it tighter. Leader stared at them, a flicker of helplessness flashing through their eyes.

Villain practically drank it in. Their eyes going dark as they said, “you need to learn who’s in control now, Leader. You agreed to give yourself in return for your precious team, yes?”

Leader looked away, but Villain’s cool hand on their jaw turned their eyes back to the sadist. “Yes?”

Leader swallowed, muttering a quiet “yes.”

Villain grinned. “Good. Now, get in the car, Leader.”

This time Leader obeyed. Villain joined after and shut the door. The car took off and Leader looked out the back window to the warehouse. The car rolled to a stop too soon for them to have gone anywhere far, and Villain stepped out dragging Leader along by the neck.

“Villain, what’re we—?”

Villain just tugged Leader’s leash harder, and Leader growled their frustrations, trying to keep up with Villain. They were on a bridge, that connected the docks to the city. Leader saw the warehouse in the distance and their frown deepened.

“Vill—“

Villain just smiled. “Let’s just enjoy the view, Leader.”

“I swear to god if you’ve done anything, deal’s off,” Leader growled. Villain yanked Leader closer, tightening the noose on Leader’s neck and Leader gasped pushing at Villain’s hands but Villain simply turned them. Leader felt the railing of the bridge dig into their back as Villain pressed into them.

Their hand moved off the rope and grabbed Leader’s throat instead. Villain grinned down, eyes full of malice and grin wicked as they held Leader’s tied wrists down at their waist. Useless.

“Deal’s off? Look at you, trying to prove who’s in charge. Again. Even after I warned you…” Villain tsked, letting Leader breathe again. Leader gasped, sucking in a breath and coughing out the excess. “But fine. You’re in charge, Leader. Deal’s off, is it?”

“Villain—“ Leader tried but Villain just grabbed a fistful of Leader’s hair and pulled them back. Leader grit their teeth, as Villain yanked them forward, turning them to face the warehouse again, trapping their arms between their body and the railing.

“No, no. Leader. I insist,” Villain hissed. Leader fought back against Villain but Villain just kept them facing forward. “Deal’s off. Your team no longer needs protection.”

Leader jerked back as the first explosion went off. By the third Leader’s legs locked like stone and felt as feeble as sand. Their mouth opening and closing wordless, silent, horrified.

“This is what happens when you don’t listen to me, Leader. Let it be your first lesson in my care.”

Villain let go of Leader’s hair and Leader nearly dropped to the ground. “They got out,” Leader whispered, their voice shaking.

“Did they?” Villain asked, then they were dragging Leader away from the bridge and back into the car.

[johannestevans]

have you ever done any fics for House MD?

I've just got the one that's up on Ao3!

Experimentation

Rated M, 2.7k. House tries something new on Wilson.

“So. Ditched Christmas with the wife for a cripple, huh?” House asked. He looked up from his noodles as he said it, meeting Wilson’s gaze on the chair beside the couch, and he saw the shift in Wilson’s face, the way he shut down just a little bit. House was drunk. He was aware of that, was aware of the pleasant buzz that rested between his ears. They’d bought some wine at the liquor store when they’d picked up the takeout, and it turned out a nice, cheap claret paired well with Vicodin and chow mein.

“Like you said, I’m Jewish,” Wilson said.

“Yeah, and married,” House said. “What, she made a nice dinner, and you ditched… for this?”

“House,” Wilson said.

“Hey, no judgement,” House said. “Just seems weird, that’s all. Ditching your bed to sleep on my couch. I mean, if you’re gonna cheat on your wife, you might as well really cheat.”

“I’ve ditched important stuff for you before,” Wilson said with a roll of his eyes.

“But this isn’t for me,” House said. “This is for you, you jackass. Can’t use your drug addict bestie as an excuse for everything.”

“I just didn’t feel like it,” Wilson said, and House could see the tell-tale signs of the hackles rising as he leaned forward, feeling his body pleasantly separated from his motor centre, the way he swayed just a little too far forward, the way he set the box down just a little too hard down on the coffee table. “She’s stifling, House, that’s all, and sometimes I just don’t want to be alone with her.”

“Oh, but me, I’m not stifling,” House said.

“Are you complaining that I want to spend time with you?”

“No,” House said, lurching slightly on his feet as he stepped forward, delicately taking the box out of Wilson’s hand and setting it on the coffee table. It looked nice outside. Dark. Cool. Not freezing cold, just… mild. Enough to be glad to be inside, and away from it. He had a thick blanket on his bed, and some stupid, knitted throw Wilson – or was it Julie? No, it was Wilson, it would have been Wilson who thought of putting something on House’s bed, who thought of House being cold – had got him a few birthdays back.

“House, I was eating that,” Wilson said. To House’s mild (although not exactly surprised) curiosity, Wilson’s body language did not change as House stood between his knees, which were slightly parted where he lounged back in the chair. This was a new experiment. Not one, in fact, that he’d tried on Wilson before, which was questionable, given how long they’d been friends, but—

Well. This wasn’t just a prank, or a test of his sensibilities. This was a slightly more extreme experiment than House generally went in for, because this was a new kinda bridge to burn, a new frontier. The wine made it easier. The fact that Wilson was Wilson made it even easier.

“Can I help you?” Wilson asked, his head tipping back, and his eyes narrow as he looks House over, as if searching him for some kind of evidence, some kind of clue, as to what he’s gonna do next, what he’s gonna say next. “What?” House looked down at him, and Wilson shifted, leaning forward slightly, and said, “House, for God’s sake, if this is one of your stupid mind games let me finish my—”

House leaned in, his head tilting to the side, and caught Wilson’s mouth under his own, leaning in between his spread knees, letting his own rest – with his weight on his good leg – on the sofa’s edge. Wilson’s mouth was hot under his own, and his body was warm, too, warm, bigger than most of the hookers House was used to, with more average proportions. Light muscle in the shoulders, a soft belly, square shoulders… Of course, there was no make-up, no perfume, either. No fishnets, although—

This was the big gamble. This was all the money on the black 33, and the wheel was spinning, spinning, spinning…

And Wilson’s mouth opened wider, letting House kiss him properly, letting House’s tongue come up against his. Their lips smacked against one another, and House didn’t let his body react when Wilson’s hands came up to touch House’s hips, touching the hem of his t-shirt where it lay over his jeans, the touch featherlight, as if he thought he’d get smacked away.

Read more here.