#the crystals were the easy background

[chickenoptyrx]

Is another Calvin and Hobbes redraw.

[carolmunson]

let's go, don't wait: part II (e.m. x f!reader)

inspired by this prompt by @edsforehead - it's not exactly the same but i did my best! series masterlist summary: modern!eddie's been single since 2020 and aside from getting his dick wet after weekend shows at the hideout, he hasn't been going out of his way for love until his friends make him. cw: 18+ for adult themes. alcohol use, swearing, phone sex, smut, oral (f receiving). some sad childhood talk, all around this is a fluff piece so nothing too bad. (19K words.)

With how easy the first date had been to make, Eddie wasn’t expecting it to be so hard to pin you down for the next one. Neither of your schedules had lined up for the rest of the week, and up until next Friday neither of you had much free time. You either had to stay at work late or he had to stay late for the three extracurriculars he was running (jazz club, D&D club, and co-runner of the school’s GSA) – which he’d only be annoyed about running if he didn’t absolutely love the kids. The extra overtime didn’t hurt either, perks of working at a rich kid private arts school.

At first he was nervous you were busy going on dates with other guys until he called you one night and he could hear your boss in the background waxing poetic about the shift to lab grown sapphires. Then he’d feel bad for feeling so accusatory to start – you’d never said anything to each other about being exclusive. Hell, you’d only been on one date. But you talked every day, and fuck did that feel good for Eddie. 

g’morning pretty  ew you’re obsessed with me. good morning, boy

He’s happy he knows you’re joking because he’s certain no other guy would get it. He knows you read his text and screamed into your pillow, cheeks hot and chest thrumming. That’s why you always have to respond so mean so that he doesn’t know how much you like him back. This backfires, because he can tell that the meaner you are, the more you like his attention.

what’s your weekend look like? i know you leave for AZ on sunday but i’d really like to see you before you go. 

You were headed to a gem trade show in Tucson on Sunday for a few days. You went every year you’d been working for your boss, you told him all about it on the phone. You’re cute when you’re excited but he didn’t want to embarrass you by saying so – just let you rattle on about all the things you get to see. You promised to send him pictures of some of the cool fossils you might come across, all of the big crystal furniture.  “You were a weird dinosaurs kind of kid, right? You’d be into pictures of fossils?" “Why are you so mean? Would you go up to nine year old me and call him a weird kid that’s into dinosaurs?” “No, he’d be so sad.” “So next time you wanna say some mean shit, imagine you’re saying it to nine year old me.” “I bet you were a cute kid,” you thought out loud, “You’re a really cute adult.” 

“You think I’m cute?” “The cutest.” His face burned at every compliment you offered him, flushing dark pink at every sweet word you said. He was a mess. Embarrassment would flood him when he’d check his phone during class, the kids would never let him hear the end of it.  “Did you meet her on Tinder, Mr. E?”  “This is not appropriate class discussion guys,” his eyes would shut tight in frustration when they’d catch him texting you back and he’d reluctantly tuck his phone into his back pocket. They were way bolder than he was at their age. “No because like, you’re so happy though. Look how you’re smiling when you text her.” “Mr. Munson’s got that W rizz.”  “Is she hot?” “Be fucking forreal. He’s blushing so hard right now.” “Smash or pass, Munson?” “Guys, can you relax? You literally have a test right now." Bzz. Bzz.

i gotta run errands on saturday and go then leave sunday night :( working late friday cause we need to take gem inventory essentially He sighed, he didn’t want to wait until next Friday to see you again. 

i could run errands with you if you’ll have me. i’ll drive! you sure? it’s not super exciting stuff. you make it exciting. :) i’ll take you out to lunch. sound good? okay :) okay :)  see you saturday, cutie omg shut up 🙄 but yeah. see you saturday. :) 

He was nervous you’d notice he got his interior detailed the night before, but he was too embarrassed to let you get into the car in its original glory. He honked the horn in three short bursts, being mindful of the neighbors even though it was around 9:30 in the morning.  You inch out of the door of your place, the first floor of a quaint three family home, in your Princess Diana best. You dressed for errands and his heart swells, leggings and a big sweatshirt, little white sneakers and socks. You look cute like this, hurrying outside with your paper Old Navy bag blowing in the wind, relaxed and laid back. But you aren’t for long, you take a step outside only to feel the chill in the ‘second winter’ air of March and raise a finger to him before running back inside — reappearing with a lightweight parka haphazardly thrown on. You patter to the car and he tries to ignore his heart rate speeding up while he leans over to open it for you. “Hey you,” he smiles, “Good morning.”  “Morning,” you say with a coy smile. His chest leans forward slightly to kiss you as you settle in but he stops short. Are you there yet? You only kissed that night last week. What if you weren’t ready to kiss again? He swallows, settling back into his seat but recognizing how his car fills with your scent. You smell so fucking good he could eat you.  “So what’s the agenda, sugar?” he asks.   “Okay, agenda: Target, Old Navy for a return,” you say, raising your bag, “I have to run into Sephora to pick up some sunscreen for my boss, and um…I think that’s it? They’re all in the same shopping center over by um – by the movie theater.”  “Oh yeah,” he nods, “I know the one.”  He reaches for the sound system, turning the volume up a little, Lamb of God’s Vanishing crunching through his speakers. He watches for your reaction and can tell you don’t know it, but you don’t seem appalled or repulsed.  “Do you have a tunes preference?” he asks, voice velvety smooth, eyes catching on your parted lips, “It’s a long drive.”  “Uh…” your knee bounces faster, “I mean it’s your car. We should listen to what you wanna listen to.”  “Honey, I’m like your Uber driver today,” he offers, head tilting while he looks over at you. Eddie’s gaze lingers on your face with soft eyes, lashes a shadow over his irises, “How’m I gonna get a five star review if you don’t like the music?” 

“I do!” you assure aggressively, “I do like it.”

“Here, I have a plan,” he nods, holding his hand out, “Gimme your phone.” 

You toss him a look which triggers an eye roll from him, “Just trust me, give me your phone.” 

“Here’s the bargain, I connect your tunes to my car,” he mumbles while he disconnects his phone from the car’s Bluetooth and connects yours instead, “But I get to pick the songs. Deal?” 

A giggle bubbles out of you, shoulders shaking loosely, “That’s ridiculous.” 

“But is it a deal?” he asks again. He takes a breath that inflates his chest, while you consider it. It’s not fair that you look so cute this morning, it’s not fair that he doesn’t have the confidence to just reach over and lay one on you like they do in the movies. He wasn’t lying when he said you were so kissable. 

“It’s a deal,” you nod. He watches your knee slow down to stopping. Eddie swallows, eyes traveling from your knees to your full thighs sitting fat in his passenger's seat with a quick scan that you don’t notice. 

“Okay, so let’s see…” he mutters, going into your music and scrolling through your artists, landing pretty early on with an enthusiastic nod that makes his waves bounce around his face. 

“Blood Brothers?” he asks, “Wow, you really did hate your dad, huh? I haven’t heard this album in years.”

“I started liking them for a boy back in high school,” you shrugged while he thumbed through the tracks, “Then started liking them forreal.” “That’s okay,” he smiles over at you, “You’d be surprised to see my Spotify wrapped every year. Never as mean and scary as you’d expect.” 

“No?” your brows raise, “Not a bunch of ‘Stabby Metal Scream Crunch Stab’ in your top ten?” 

He scoffs, settling on ‘Set Fire to the Face on Fire’, the opening Fire! Fire! Fire! leaking through the speakers, “I married the head cheerleader at my high school – I’d like to think my music taste is pretty eclectic. Metal’s just, y’know, the main course. Plenty of side dishes on my roster.” 

“You a big fan of having something on the side?” you quirk a brow at him through the rear view mirror while he puts the car in drive. He scoffs again, lips twitching up into a smirk. You’re quick and it makes his blood rush, his fingers drum nervously on the wheel while he keeps the car in place.

“Why’re you so mean, huh?” he teases, “Do I look like the kind of guy that’s had a lot of side pieces?” 

“Oh,” you start, giving him a once over, “Not even close.” 

“You’re here with me, aren’t you?” he asks, putting the car in park again. He turns down the volume, turning his body completely towards you. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” you drone, turning yourself toward him in return,  “I guess I am.” Eddie clears his throat, tongue flicking over his full lips to wet them. 

“So uh…before we hit the road,” his voice cracks, heart rattling in its cage, trapped in his chest, “D’you-think-I-could-steal-a-kiss-good-morning?” It pours out of his mouth while his body goes numb – like the bandaid was ripped off but someone else did it for him. His hopeful voice when he presents the offer sounds foreign to him, but he knows what he’s asking you. Blood rushes in his ears, the steady thump of his heart pounding through his veins. Your bottom lip tucks into your teeth, eyes shutting briefly with anticipation, a tiny chuckle huffs through your nose. Your knee starts to bounce again. 

“Yeah, but it’s not stealing if I’m letting you have one,” you reply, your own voice becoming delicate and girlish, teenage nerves coasting down your throat through the back of your neck. He leans close to you, engulfed again in the scent of your perfume, head leaning to the side slightly while your movements mirror his. Eddie brings a hand up to hold your face, keeping you steady while he goes in for the kill, one he’d been hoping to make since he saw you last. Heart stuck in his throat, he almost feels a sob shoot through his chest when his lips touch yours. It’s as soft and warm as he remembers. As soft and warm as the moment he’s been replaying in his head since last Monday. 

You both break apart but he doesn’t move away from your face, hand dropping from your cheek to your bouncing knee where he gives it a gentle squeeze, “Are you nervous?” 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I think maybe, yeah. But I’m excited, too. Y’know, to spend the day with you.” 

It’s his turn to feel giddy and embarrassed, a flush building steadily on the apples of his cheeks, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m nervous, too. But it’s  just gonna be a nice, chill day, okay?” 

“Okay,” you nod, both of you wearing matching smiles. 

“I do have a rule, though,” his brows furrow, implying he’s serious. You look very seriously back at him. 

“I gotta kiss you every time you’re startin’a look a little too good,” he gives you a shrug of one shoulder before settling back into the driver’s seat while he pulls onto the road, “Cause I don’t know if you saw, but the way you look this morning is fucking illegal.” 

You let out a soft tsss from between your teeth, shaking your head while you settle back into your seat, “You’re so stupid.” 

“I’m just a man, sugar,” he tilts his head, readjusting behind the wheel before putting the car back in drive. He restarts the song before pulling onto the road, feeling like maybe this errands date would go much, much better than he’d planned. He drums on the steering wheel again, head softly bouncing along with the beat of the song while the lyrics scream through the car. You mouth along with them, staring out the window while you do. 

‘Those cold hooks, cemetery claws raking at the infant's jaws,Set fire to the horse on fire,Set fire to the dress on fire,Set fire to the stage on fire,Set fire to the stars on fire!’

“Damn, me and the band shoulder cover this,” he nods to himself, “We’d fuckin’ crush.” 

“Can you scream like that?” you ask, turning your head to face him, “I feel like I’d blow my vocal chords.” 

“Eh, sorta kinda,” he tilts his head from side to side, “I got plenty of practice. Do plenty of screaming with our own stuff, you sorta train your voice up to do it. I might not be able to scream as high but, I could harmonize with Jeff – lead guitar if you remember –” “I remember,” you smile, “And his wife Alycia.” 

“And is wife Alycia! Damn, look at you,” he smiles, “You should write my memoirs. But yeah, surprisingly Jeff can get pretty high up there – it’s super impressive.”

“Well when you cover it, I’ll come watch,” you nod, “You still haven’t really told me about your band.” 

“Corroded Coffin?” he asks, turning into a coffee shop drive-thru and pulling up behind a short line of cars, “Not much to tell. We play shows every couple weeks, in the summer every week, at a few bars around the city that are into that scene. We have fun – still play at our old stomping grounds in Hawkins, too. Same five drunks cheering us on for the last twelve years.” 

His eyes widen at the realization, “Twelve years, Jesus. I’m so fuckin’ old.”   

“Oh, thank god I only have two years until I’m fuckin’ old,” you laugh, “You don’t look old.” 

“You don’t look old either,” he smiles, giving you a once over that you immediately feel shy under, “What can I get you?” 

“Oh no, no,” you shake your head, reaching for your wallet in your Old Navy bag, “I’ll get it, seriously. You’re driving me.” 

“No, please, I’ll get it,” he says, pushing your hand down gently while you offer your card. 

“I wanna pay for it, you’re already going out of your way to do all this boring shit,” you offer again. He plucks your card from your fingers and flicks it into the backseat. He shrinks when your smile falls, you’re very obviously not taken by his actions. 

“Look,” he shrugs, voice lowering, “I didn’t wanna say anything cause I didn’t know how you’d react. But this location actually doesn’t accept money from women. I know, crazy right? So sexist. Its so gross of me to still go here when it’s totally against all my shit. But since they don’t accept any payments from women, I’m gonna have to pay or else we can’t get coffee.” 

You roll your eyes but can’t hold back your laugh, “Fuck, why do you have to be funny about it?” 

“You think I’m funny, huh?” he grins, pulling up to the microphone box. 

“Yeah, funny lookin’,” you tease. Eddie ‘tsks’ a few times with a shake of his head, looking back at you. 

“What can I get you?” he asks again. 

“Medium, iced, caramel. Almond milk if they have it, regular if not,” you respond, crossing your arms. He orders and can feel your eyes on him, he wants to turn back around and kiss that pout right off your lips. You’re not used to having someone take care of things and he can tell, you don’t like it either. Or at least you don’t know how to let yourself like it. Two givers stuck in a car running errands with each other – he wonders if you’ve ever known how to take. 

He gets the coffees, yours with your milk and flavor, his iced and black. You say thank you when you take it, there’s something about your face when you do, a softness he feels like he’s not supposed to see. 

“Hey, you know my rule,” he says, leaning in again, “You’re startin’ to look at little too good right now.” 

Your embarrassed smile says enough when you close the gap between the two of you, lips pressing together in a soft and gentle peck. 

“Thank you,” he expresses, big brown eyes looking into yours before pulling back onto the streets. He turns the sound system up again, the opening of Cam’ron’s Hey Ma flows through the speakers, he nods enthusiastically. 

“Another banger,” he exclaims. 

“You know this song?” you ask with surprise. 

“I grew up in a trailer park, baby. You hear a lot of different music out there,” he shrugs. Eddie feels his throat choke up when he realizes he called you baby. But at least if you hated it, you weren’t showing any sign that you did. 

“Got drops. Got coupes. Got trucks. Got jeeps. Alright, 'cause we gon' take a ride tonight So ma. Wassup? Let's slide. Alright. Alright, and we gon' get it on tonight.” He likes that you’re impressed that he knows the words, of course he does. He grew up hearing this song all of summer 2002, running through the hose with the little kids, while his old baby sitters sat out in lawn chairs to work on their color. Playboy Bunny stickers on their hip bones to show off their tan lines. 

You both sing the opening verse to the windshield, windows coming down an inch as you turn onto the parkway, voices booming over Juelz Sanatana’s. 

“Now I was down town clubbin’, ladies night, Seen shorty she was crazy right, And I approached baby like, ‘Ma, what’s your age and type?’ She looked at me and said, ‘Yous a baby right?’” He hits the last red light before the long stretch of the drive, turning to you to deliver a passionate line reading of the lyrics. He’s surprisingly smooth, even impressing himself at how actually cool he’s being about it. 

“I told her, I’m eighteen and live a crazy life, Plus I’ll tell you what the 80s like, and I know what the ladies like, Need a man that’s polite, listens and takes advice. I can be all three, plus I can lay the pipe. Come with me, come stay the night.” 

He winks when he finishes the line and by the way you stop singing, he knows he’s got you flustered. You are easy. He wants to see how much easier it is. 

“You better be careful,” you warn, tongue caught between your teeth. “Yeah? I better be careful?” he grins, car pushing forward when the light changes so he can turn onto the highway. 

“You’re trouble, Munson,” you shake your head, turning your attention back to the stretch of asphalt ahead of the both of you, “You’re big trouble.” 

“She looked at me laughin’ like, ‘Boy your game is tight.’ I’m laughin’ back like, ‘Sure, you’re right.’” 

“D’you need a cart?” Eddie asks, taking a side step over to the push carts neatly pushed into each other in between the double doors of Target. 

“Nah, if I get a cart I’m just gonna use it as an excuse to buy more stuff,” you pull a face, shoulders dropping dramatically, “And while I’d love to have an excuse to buy more stuff, I just need a basket.” “Basket it is,” he grins, hand wrapping over the hard plastic of one of the handles, tugging a basket loose from where it’s encased with its brothers. You reach your hand out, taking a step closer to the entrance, our step triggers the automatic doors and he files in after you. 

He looks at your outstretched hand behind you and then up at your face, “I can hold it, Ed.” 

He gives you a small shake of his head, “Nah, I’ll carry it. You lead the way. What’s on your list?”  “I mostly just need to get travel stuff…like toiletries,” you think out loud, “I guess this wasn’t really much of a big errand now that I think about it.” 

“That’s okay,” he says, and he means it. 

You don’t go straight to the beauty section. You’re taken by the $5 and under shelves at the front of the store, full of small decor knick knacks that he recognizes from his own apartment. This is where Tati’s always picking up those little gold tchotchkes for the coffee table and bookshelves every other month. The same way Chrissy would always have new, tiny holiday themed pieces every year to sneak onto their mantle.

“So, do you want me to keep you on task?” he asks, falling in step next to you, watching your fingers toy over a felted bunny figurine for Easter, “Or do you want me to aid in you not being on task?” 

You look over at him, eyes scanning over his frame. He catches the way your eyes linger on the way his t-shirt fits him under his leather jacket and denim vest. Dark olive green, a touch too tight in the chest, collar worn out just enough so that the ends of his collar bones peeked through. 

“We have all day, right?” you smirk. 

“All day,” he nods, “You a walking through the aisles type of girl?” 

“Is that a deal breaker?” you ask, attention captivated by a lavender ceramic pencil holder in the shape of a rainbow. 

“No, not at all,” he assures, taking you by surprise when he presses a kiss to your temple, “I’m a walking through the aisles type of guy.” 

“Was I looking a little too good while perusing the five dollar shelf?” you tease while you move onward into the store, stopping to thumb through a rack of jeans.

“Well that’s the thing,” he says with a tilt of his head, “You’re always lookin’ a little too good.” 

He hums when you roll your eyes, “Hmm. How’d I know that was coming?” 

“Why’re you so nice to me all the time, huh?” you fake argue, bored with looking at clothes and taking deliberate steps towards home goods to the bath section. Eddie hurries to keep up, basket clicking and clacking in his hand. 

“I guess I can be mean to you, but I feel like that would make me a shitty date,” he jokes back, “And an even worse Uber driver.” 

“So true, actually. Zero stars,” you nod, running your hand over a towel that matches the color of his shirt, “Y’know green’s a really good color for you? Makes your eyes pop.” 

“Oh…” he can feel himself turning red when you say that. So she’s been looking at my eyes? Is she always secretly sort of checking me out the way I’m always secretly sort of checking her out? Does she think I’m cute or something? Why am I trying to propose to her right now? Is it ‘cause we’re looking at towels? 

“Um, thank you. I’ll um, I’ll wear it more often,” he runs a hand over his face while you continue to look at towels, turning the corner to look at the fancier ones. You laugh at his jittery response, not so much at him, not teasing, but – this guy covered in tattoos, stomping in combat boots, definitely has a knife in his back pocket, chains dangling down the side of his pants, is blushing bright red just because you said he looks good in green. This guy? 

“You should,” you encourage, turning to see his reddened face, “What happened to not being nervous?” 

“That’s a rule for you,” he says, walking a few steps ahead of you. His eyes catch on a soap dispenser, it’s the same one he had in the master bathroom back with Chris, “I can be as nervous as I want.” 

“Ah, I see, rules for thee, not for me,” you nod slowly. 

“See! Now you’re getting it,” he says over his shoulder. He reaches his free hand back toward you, eyes meeting yours, tossing you a smile when you look at his hand and back at him, “Yeah, I want you to hold it.” 

When your fingers slide in to lace with his he realizes his hands are a little sweaty. They weren’t last time you saw him, with your hand cradled in between his on his knee at the bar. He was a couple drinks in then, not forced to face the action fully. Not aware enough to realize he was holding a pretty girl’s hand in public on a domestic date and all he can think about is railing you in the backseat of his Honda Civic and also making a mental note of all the color choices you like so when you eventually move in together he already knows what you — Jesus fucking Christ you have soft hands. You guide him through the rest of the bathroom section, stopping briefly to consider whether or not you need more hand towels for your apartment and then shaking it off. He let’s you take him around the corner to mattress covers, you talk about your Casper mattress and how you still aren’t sure if you really like it two years later. He hears himself respond in a fog but he’s caught up on how right it feels to be here with you, to be holding your hand, holding your Target basket for you, listening to you talk about whatever. 

You get to bedding and stop at the throws, Eddie’s fog lifts when you let go of his hand to take one of them off the shelf. A dark green knitted blanket replaces his hand, folded up neat and tidy in its wrap-around casing. 

“This is so perfect for my living room,” you murmur to yourself, “It’s so cute.” 

Eddie leans against the shelf while you let your senses absorb the knit: touch, sight, smell. You peer at the other colors, unhappy with the rest, balancing the blanket on your hip while you look back at the empty spot where it once sat. Your eyes roll again, shoulders slumping for real this time.

“Not seventy five dollars cute,” you grumble, putting the blanket back on the shelf. 

“Seventy five dollars?” he asks, aghast, brown eyes rounding in surprise, “What, did they shear the sheep here or something?” 

“That’s capitalism for ya,” you click your tongue, giving the blanket one last look with a little pout, “Oh well, I’m sure I can find a dupe or something at TJ Maxx.” 

“M’sorry, sweetheart,” he consoles, taking your hand back and giving it an apologetic squeeze. 

“Sweetheart…” you repeat back, “That’s cute.” 

“That’s cute? Okay,” he smiles down at the tile under his feet, teeth showing, “I’ll keep note of that.” 

You both continue your journey through bedding, crossing through the Hearth & Hand showcase where he listens to you gripe about how you swear it’s a scam. None of this shit should be this expensive. Like, I could get all this shit at H&M Home online for twenty dollars less. What, just cause they’re on TV? Frickin’ ridiculous. He still stands by thinking that you’re cute when you’re mad. He can’t let go of your hand. He doesn’t even care that you’re both so far from travel toiletries, that you likely forgot why you were even here. He just likes this, being in Target with you, holding your hand while you yell about something. 

“Oh, hold on, I gotta look at these,” you squeeze his hand before you let go again, walking ahead of him while Matchbox Twenty’s 3AM fades into Des’ree’s You Gotta Be. 

“Decorative wicker baskets?” he asks, stepping back to look at the wall of wicker baskets of all sizes in the back of the store. 

“I need two for under my dresser,” you say, reaching up to grab one and looking at the tag for the dimensions, “S’for my socks and stuff.” 

He tosses you a look and you look back at him, “Don’t ask.” 

You get lost in the task, two stepping with a little sway to your hips, small movements. You sing along to the song while you pull one basket down and put it back, and so on. You gotta be cool, you gotta be calm, you gotta stay together. You aren’t mocking him when you sing along but the lyrics feel like they are. You’re so into it, too. He guesses this is what you’re like when no one’s around to watch you. How unfortunate that you’re so kissable even when you think no one is around to see it. 

“Hey,” he says, putting the basket down, “What did I say about looking too good?” 

“What?” you turn around, eyes rounded, almost startled, “Am I taking too long?”

“No,” he says with a furrow of his brow, approaching you gently while he crosses into your personal space. His voice drops a little lower, lips lingering close to yours, “No baby, not at all. Just looking really cute over here.” 

You can’t help but feel girlish when he’s like this, giggling while heat floods your cheeks and chest. 

“C’mere,” he whispers, pressing you back with his body so you’re flush with the shelves against the wall. His nose brushes yours, fingers finding your chin to tilt you up toward him where his mouth can taste you and you can taste him. He starts slow, just a test, shrouded in the lower light of the back decorative basket aisle, lips parting slightly to see if you’ll match it. He puffs a small breath against the ridge of your upper lip and it’s enough to send you into a frenzy. His body presses close up against you, kiss gaining fervor, hands coming up to cup around your cheek and neck to guide you with him

“Wait, wait,” you gasp, breaking away, “We’re gonna get in trouble.” 

“You think I’m scared of getting in trouble?” he clicks his tongue before grinning at you. Looks like you don’t do trouble. His lips ghost over yours, skating softly over your cheek to get to your ear, “I’ve been gettin’ kicked out of Targets since 2007, sweetheart.” 

His teeth graze your ear lobe, your hands reaching to clutch the soft leather of his jacket, a small sigh puffs out of you. He’s not sure if it’s pushing it, but the aisle is empty, and whatever he’s doing, he’s pretty sure you like it – his lips drop from your earlobe to the edge of your jaw, settling on a slow, wet open mouth kiss on your neck before meeting your mouth again. 

“Ed,” you mumble quietly, “I can’t be turned on at Target.” 

“Yes you can,” he giggles, stealing another gentle kiss from you. 

“Uh…hey folks,” a timid voice calls from the end of the aisle. You both break away, embarrassment clearly taking you over while you cover your face in your hands. A younger guy in a red t-shirt and khaki slacks waves awkwardly when he has both of your attention. 

“Sorry to uh, to interrupt but, um – y’know, this is a family friendly store and we just – yeah, I’m sorry. You’re not in trouble or anything,” he offers, stumbling over his words. 

“Thanks man,” Eddie says genuinely, giving him a wave back, “Sorry about that, just uh, caught up in the moment I guess. Baskets really do it for her, y’know?” 

The guy nods, walking away when a small thwap of the back of your hand hits his chest. 

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you laugh, changing your voice to mock him, “Baskets really do it for her. Fuck all the way off.” 

Eddie laughs with you, picking up the Target basket and placing it in your hand, “Look, I gotta pee so bad. Do you think you can man the aisles yourself while I go and take care of that?” 

You nod, “Just text me when you’re done and I’ll tell you where I am, okay?” 

“Cool,” he nods back, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek, “See you in a bit.” 

hey, where are you at? easter stuff, i got distracted  very godly of you

He bustles through the aisles, realizing now that you’re on the totally opposite side of the store than you were before. He spots you where all the candy is, your basket full of your toiletries.  “Easter candy?” he asks. 

“It’s the best holiday candy, easily,” you confess, “I know people will probably say Halloween since that’s the candy holiday, but dude, there’s something about Cadbury eggs.” 

“Yeah?” he reaches out and takes the basket out of your hand gently, you don’t protest when he does, “Isn’t it supposed to be from the UK? Don’t they have better chocolate by proxy?” 

“I think so,” you agree while Eddie strolls a little further down the aisle, “Have you ever had them?” 

“I’m sure I have,” he says, fingers tracing over a chocolate bunny in a box, “I guess I’m more of a Halloween guy.” 

“Boring,” you sing, holding two small bags of Cadbury eggs in your hands. Eddie holds the basket in front of him while you gear up to toss one in. 

“Kobe!” you shout, the candy leaving your fingers in a lay up toss, floating through the air only to fall at Eddie’s feet on the tile. 

“Too soon,” Eddie shakes his head solemnly, reaching down to grab the chocolate and put it in the red basket in his arm, “How’re you gonna call out a legend’s name and then miss?” 

“I feel like you moved it so that I’d miss,” you accuse playfully. 

“I kept it exactly where it was, I think you’re just not very good at basketball,” he says, making his way towards you. You put the other bag in with the rest of your stuff and look up at him through half lidded eyes. He matches your gaze while he looks at you. 

“You just don’t wanna see me be great,” you tease. 

“Oh, stop,” he tutts, “You’re very great.” 

Neither of you can help but kiss again. It feels natural to do it at this point. 

“You get everything you need to get?” he asks against your lips. You nod, a little ‘mhm’ squeaks out of your throat, “Good, cause they can’t yell at us for making out in the parking lot. So we should head out of here soon.” 

The remainder of the errands and lunch go by like a blur to him. Saturday meant busy restaurants so instead you opted for fast food in the parking lot, starting the drive home sharing Wendy’s waffle fries over the center console. 

Before you pull out of the lot, he flicks your music on again, opting to just leave it on shuffle because he feels like he learns you better that way. What’s going to come up next that’ll surprise him? What’s he gonna find out about you? 

‘Baby, I know you’re hurting, Right now you feel like you could never love again. Now all I ask, is for a chance, to prove, That I love you.’ 

Eddie barks out a laugh, takes a sip of his Sprite, and then laughs again, “Oh shit. I haven’t heard this song in years!”

“You know this song, too?” you ask, surprised again at his music repertoire. 

“You really don’t think I’m cultured, do you?” he jokes, “I have a deep affinity for the Backstreet Boys, though I will admit I was an NSYNC boy myself growing up.”

“Of course,” you murmur with an eye roll, “What’s your favorite NSYNC song?” 

“Ooh, let me see,” he thinks while he turns onto the highway, “Definitely Drive Myself Crazy. I’d always try to hit JC’s runs.”

“You knew their names too?” 

“I told you already, I grew up in a trailer park. I had the same babysitter from two to eleven,” he explains, “Mrs. Grandy watched me until her daughter Summer turned thirteen and then I’d go and pal around with her and her friends. I was like her little brother, I practically lived there.” 

“Were you always there?” you ask, “At your babysitter’s house?” 

“Yeah. My uh, my mom died when I was seven but she was always working and tryna stay out of the house when my dad came home so I was always at the sitters. He’s y’know – he’s in jail but he was in and out of it when I was a kid, too. Got arrested for beating on her a couple months before she died and my uncle moved up from North Carolina to take care of me. But he worked nights so – if I wasn’t at school I had to have someone watch me while he slept and then someone had to be at the trailer while I slept. It was way easier when I was in school – but anyway – wow – off topic there – yes, I spent a lot of time with my babysitter and her mom,” he finishes.  

“I’m sorry,” you offer, reaching over to give his knee a reassuring squeeze. 

“No, don’t be. It’s okay. I’m okay – I turned out pretty cool, I think,” he shrugs.

“You’re really cool,” you smile, Eddie smiles back. 

“What’s your favorite Backstreet Boys song?” he asks. 

“Hey Mr. DJ, easy,” you tell him, “It’s the most fucknasty song they’ve ever made and it still holds up. Like, I want it played at my wedding. I’m trying to make a child to that song.” 

Eddie loses it at fucknasty, head falling back on the headrest while his chest bounces, “The most fucknasty song? We’ll have to play that next.” 

“You won’t be disappointed,” you say, “AJ sings it and he was my favorite.” 

“Oh, baby, that does not surprise me at all,” he grins. Calling you baby sounds comfortable now, even after just talking for a week. He’s not sure how fast or slow these things are supposed to go, but your little smile every time he says it makes him wanna say it more. 

“I saw them in concert, when I was like, nine or ten or something,” Eddie says, “For their Millenium Tour – was when I Want It That Way was huge.” 

“You got tickets?” you ask, a teasing grin splitting your face. 

“Summer was a huge Backstreet Boys and NYSNC fan, like, posters all over her room. Had every magazine they were in that she could find, everything. So all we would do when she would watch me was listen to them and talk about them, so I liked them because she liked them and I thought she was cool,” he starts. 

“So anyway, she finds out on the radio that they’re giving away tickets to a show in Columbus – cause like, no one fucking comes to Indiana to play shows – and she calls in and wins! She literally went into shock. But we ended up going and she brought me instead of her friend because she was like ‘Mom, he’s family’. Which as an adult, makes me fucking melt y’know? But as a kid I was like ‘Damn you’re gonna drag me to Ohio to see a boy band? I wanna see Tool.’”

“Not Tool!” you laugh.  

“But it was cool cause we got to stay in a hotel for a night and all that other shit. It felt really special, her mom got us t-shirts which I’m sure cost her a fortune but – damn. I had a lot of fun.” 

“It sounds like you did.”

“The most crazy thing though – which I’ve never told anyone so, I hope you feel special – was when I saw them perform, I thought like, ‘Wow, I wanna do this when I grow up.’ So in a way, if it wasn’t for the Backstreet Boys, I would’ve never realized I wanted to be a rockstar,” he confesses, “And I mean, obviously I was really into rock, and metal, and folk-punk stuff ‘cause of Wayne, but seeing those guys on stage? Everyone screaming? I was like ‘Damn, I wanna be up there! I wanna be shredding up there!’” 

“I love that,” you reply, a warm smile spread across your face while you watch him relive the memory in his head. 

He shrugs, “It was a cool dream to have but, I don’t know. That ship has long sailed.” 

“What do you mean? Long sailed? You can still be a rockstar,” you argue, a fry crunching soft between your teeth. 

He shakes his head, slight defeat caressing his tone, “No I can’t. I’m too old now.” 

“Too old? Shut up,” you assert through a mouthful of waffle fry, “Metallica’s still out there playing. Iron Maiden is literally on tour right now. And they’re all like – in their sixties for fuck’s sake.” 

“Okay?” he huffs back, the red from the hazard lights of the car in front of you flashes against his face, “And? They all got famous when they were like, twenty or younger. I’m fucking…thirty-two.” 

“Exactly! You’re only thirty-two,” you exclaim while he rolls to a stop at a red light. Your hand reaches out to squeeze his arm, “You have so much time. You can literally be a rockstar whenever.” 

Eddie’s chest gets tight when you say that – it had been a while since he heard that type of encouragement. He’d missed the feeling of someone cheering him on from the bar while he was on stage, Chrissy’s praise when they’d get home. Wayne calling to tell him he saw a review of their set in the paper. Lately the shows felt sad to him, he felt lonely, even though he was always the happiest when he could make it on that stage. 

“You can’t be saying shit like that to me,” he says knowingly, maneuvering his arm so that he can take your hand in his. 

“Why not?” you ask, your voice holding a hint of sullenness that breaks his heart. He kisses your knuckles before resting his and your hand on your thigh, the light changing to green. 

“‘Cause you’re gonna make me fall in love with you.” Your eyes cast down at his hand on your thigh, your smile tight, stretching painfully across your cheeks, “Oh, okay. I’ll be meaner if that’s not what you’re going for.” 

“It’s definitely what I’m going for,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand softly. 

The mood in the car shifts to comfortable silence, I’ll Never Break Your Heart fading out into the opening croons of Leon Bridges’ Coming Home. You lean your head on the window, looking at the cars passing you on the highway, the light flecks of rain hitting the glass as the car keeps its speed. Eddie lets go of your hand, palm stretching over the mass of your thigh, running soothingly up and down on your leggings. His thumb rubs soft and slow over the outside of your quad, he just wants to touch you. It’s a comforting touch, no implications other than – I like being here with you right now. 

‘The world leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, girl. You're the only one that I want, Wanna be around. Wanna be around, girl, Wanna be around, girl, Ooh, wanna be around, girl...’

“I like this,” Eddie says, his voice soft, “Who is this?” 

“Leon Bridges,” you answer, “The whole album is so good. It honestly sounds even better on vinyl.” 

“I was just about to say, I bet it sounds great on vinyl,” he enthuses, “I like the old timey vibe.” 

“It’s cozy, right?” you ask. 

“Very cozy,” he nods, tossing a look over to you. Your eyes are heavy lidded, breath steady in your chest,  “You gettin’ sleepy?” 

“Kinda,” you yawn, “You’re not boring me or anything, I promise.” 

“That’s okay,” he offers you a soft pat on the thigh, returning back to the slow back and forth that was putting you to sleep, “We’ll be home soon-ish, just take a nap.” 

You frown, “You sure? Am I being lame?” 

“Nah, you’re not being lame,” he assures. Your eyes flutter closed, the warm cascade of his hand continues while they do. 

After a long stretch of highway, Eddie turns the car into your part of town, a sadness washing over him that he has to drop you off and then go home to his apartment for the remainder of this rainy evening. For a flicker of a moment he wants to be selfish and ask if you wanna just kick it at his house, but he knows you have stuff to do before this trip. Envy seeps into his sadness that your boss gets to spend so much time with you, gets to watch you laugh, gets to watch you solve problems, gets to watch you do anything all day. Is it healthy to feel like this so quickly? I don’t know her like that, he wonders, Is it that sort of thing where like, if you know you know? Or am I being kind of insane right now? 

“What’d I miss?” you ask, rising from your mini-nap in the car. You frown when you see your surroundings, so much closer to home than you hoped. 

“A few showtunes and Mariah’s Vision of Love,” he says, your sleepy voice tugging on his heart and lips, “I’m partial to My All but that’s cause I’m a professional sad boy.” 

“My All is on there, but it’s probably good I was out for Vision of Love – you didn’t have to hear me screlting it in the small confines of this car,” you laugh.

“Do you sing?” he asks. You shake your head no. 

“I did musicals in high school, as you can see by the showtunes,” you explain, “But I wouldn’t call myself much of a singer.” 

“I’m sure I’ll find out if that’s true sooner or later,” he offers. It’s part way through Good Charlotte’s Girls & Boys, volume low so he didn’t disturb you sleeping. 

“This song makes me laugh,” you say, he feels your hand find his, still sitting firm on your lap. You play with his rings, twirling them around his fingers, he swallows hard. 

“Like, so many songs that came out around this time, even a couple years after – now they just sound like women’s empowerment.” 

“Tell me more,” he says, turning onto your street, the ache creeping back up again. 

“Like, ‘Girls don’t like boys, girls like cars and money.’ Is that supposed to be a dig? Of course I like cars and money – I’m a person. ‘Paper or plastic, don’t matter, she’ll have it.’ Like it’s a bad thing! Sounds like she’s thriving, he’s paying for everything and she didn’t even ask him to, she’s just sitting there looking hot!” you continue, “Sounds like a dream to be honest!”

“Yeah!” he nods, mulling it over in his head, “Fuckin’ – good for her!” 

“I’m happy for her!” you laugh, he laughs with you. It’s nice to laugh so much with you, he likes that you’re sort of goofy in your own right. He pulls up to your house, pulling in to park in front of the walk way. Both of your laughs quiet down, you both look at the house through your window and the air in the car changes. 

“I don’t wanna go,” you frown, shoulders slumping, “I wanna keep hanging out.” 

“I know,” he says gently, “I wanna keep hanging out, too – but you got stuff you need to get ready for tomorrow.”

“I know,” you scrunch your nose, “So stupid.” 

“So stupid,” he agrees, “How dumb that you have to go to a really cool expo where the weather’s nice.” “Well when you put it like that,” you say with a tilt of your head and a smile. 

“Let me get your stuff out of the trunk,” he offers, getting out of the car into the smattering of rain. He pops the trunk and grabs your bags, coming over to your side to open your door for you. 

“Here,” he says, offering you your toiletries, Old Navy exchange (and a few other purchases), and a Sephora bag with definitely more than just your boss’s sunscreen in it. You thank him and lean in for a kiss but he grins, turning away from you to go back to the trunk, “Sorry, forgot a bag.” 

He reappears with the trunk closes, another Target bag in his hands that he passes to you. The weight reveals what it is before you look, but you peek to be sure, “Ed…”

“I didn’t really have to pee,” he confesses, “You just really liked it and you looked so sad when you put it back so, you know, I just wanted to do something nice.” 

“It’s really nice,” you smile, looking down at the green Casaluna blanket nestled in the bag, “I just don’t want to like…feel like I owe you something.” 

“No, no, no,” he hurriedly shakes his head, “Please don’t feel like that. This really was just like – it’s not like a power move or anything I’m not like that, I promise – I don’t want anything in return, seriously.” 

“Except maybe a picture when it’s all set up nice in your living room,” he grins. Your eye rolls make his heart flutter because so far, you always kiss him after you do it and this time is no exception. 

“I’ll see you when I come back,” you say, wincing as the rain starts to pick up. “You act like you’re going to war, sugar,” he teases, “Like you’re not gonna text me in five minutes.” 

“Ew, bye,” you scowl, giving him a peck before hustling up the walkway to find refuge on the covered porch. 

“Bye,” he calls out, bottom lip tucking between his teeth in the afterglow of another good date. He gets back in the car and waits for you to get in safely before driving away towards his own apartment. At a red light, his phone goes off, just five minutes since he’s pulled away. He opens his texts, a full belly laugh barking from his mouth.  it looks great in my living room. oh shit it’s only been five minutes. 😡 fuck you. 

By day two of your trip, Eddie was already homesick for you. Savoring every message you could send his way when you weren’t busy, but also trying his best not to text you back immediately so he didn’t seem needy. Or worse, desperate. He liked it the most when you’d send pictures: big pink quartz bathtubs, amethyst arm chairs, huge chunks of malachite that were the size of his hand. 

these would make cool dice for d&d, right? the coolest. you should buy that and then hand carve the dice for me. let me pull a grand out of my ass real quick so i can get to work on that. so needy.   oh, so you miss me?  of course i do :) i miss you, too :) 

“So when’re we gonna meet your mystery girlfriend?” Robin asks, swirling her rum and coke with her straw, “Or does she go to a different school in Canada that we wouldn’t know about?” 

Steve snickers with Robin, two mean girls who always mean girl together. It was a Tuesday, which meant Robin and Steve would meet up for Happy Hour at a bar near Nancy’s office for the paper and then bother everyone else to come meet them until everyone showed up. The three sat at the corner of the bar, Steve in the center in his business casual. Patagonia vest over his blue button up, hair perfectly windswept with his sunglasses tucked into his t-shirt collar. Picture perfect finance bro with his mean lesbian guard dog to bark at any woman who might hurt his feelings. Eddie was convinced that if Robin wasn’t gay, they would’ve gotten married the day that they met. 

“Well she’s not my girlfriend yet, for one,” Eddie starts, defensively, “And if you wanna know if she’s real, here’s her Instagram.” 

He passes his phone to Robin who swipes through your photos with a nod, a smile pulling across her face, “Not bad at all, Munson.” 

“Let me see,” Steve demands with a slight whine, plucking the phone from her hand. He scrolls, a touch of a salacious smirk spreading across his face, “Oh, smash. Immediately smash.” Steve passes Eddie’s phone back to him on the table, screen open to a risque picture of you on the beach, “You didn’t fuck?” 

“Not yet, Harrington,” Eddie sighs, “I’ll be sure to let you know the moment I slip it in, okay?” 

“I’m just saying,” Steve shrugs, “I would’ve fucked her already.” 

“Yeah, we know loverboy,” Robin teases. Eddie’s shoulders tense a little because if Steve wanted you, he’d definitely be able to take you. He’s hot and charismatic, he has more money than he knows what to do with, and at the end of the day – Steve loves women. All kinds of women. Eddie swore Steve would leave college with a taste for thin blondes that were in his frat’s sister sorority but every night it was someone new. And every night, Steve Harrington got what Steve Harrington wanted. 

“Tell her to follow me,” Steve winks. 

“It’s the first thing I did when I met her, actually – told her to follow you,” Eddie jokes back. 

what’re you doing? happy hour with the group. well right now just rob and steve but everyone else is on the way. fun! i bought a new bathing suit at a vendor because i have bad impulse control. also look at these cool rocks. oh, sick – what kind are they? the vendor said they’re ocean jasper do you want one? will you get a matching one with me? also linger is playing at the bar right now and it’s…making me think about you? stupid as hell. absolutely will get us matching ones. i love that song. who said you could be this cute? pretty sure i did. steve says hi by the way, he’s ‘linger’ing over my shoulder. lmao you’re so corny “Is she gonna send you a picture of her in the bathing suit or not?” he asks impatiently. “She’s still working, man,” Eddie flips his phone over so the screen can’t be seen, “And even if she does, I’m not gonna show it to you.” “Yeah, don’t be such a perv Steve,” Robin sasses, “Get me another rum and coke instead.” 

After an hour, the rest of the group has made it and Eddie’s had three beers in a short span of time. Not enough alcohol to feel drunk, but enough alcohol that he keeps getting lost in the thought of your thighs on that barstool last week. The little overflow of your tummy in your jeans, your hips, what you might look like out of those jeans. What sounds you might’ve made if he went to your house after Target and he peeled those leggings off you. You’re busy and he’s bummed out about it only because he selfishly wishes you were here at happy hour instead of looking at cool rocks. “You look so sad right now,” Tatianna says from across the table the group has gathered round, “You miss your girl?” 

Eddie pouts dramatically, nodding, “I do.” “Guys this is the one, I’ve never seen him like this before,” Tatianna grins, “He’s down bad.” 

Tati reaches next to her to hold hands with Gareth giving it a squeeze, “Hinge is the truth, I’m telling you.” 

“I mean, you sure? He thought Chris was the one and look how that turned out,” Mike says from the other end. Everyone sighs and groans, whines of ‘C’mon Wheeler,’ sound out of a few of them. 

“When you know, you know, kid,” Gareth offers softly, “And I think Ed knows.” 

“When’re we gonna meet this girl who likes your nerdy ass?” Erica giggles next to him. “Exactly what I was saying earlier,” Steve adds. 

“I don’t think you need to meet her, Steve,” Dustin laughs, “Let him have something, for God’s sake.”  “Well,” Nancy starts, “I mean, Steve’s party at Barcade is next week. Might be a good sort of low stakes way to ease her in.” 

“That’s actually such a good idea,” Tatianna agrees. 

“But I have the jazz concert for my kids that night,” Eddie sulks. 

“Yeah but that ends at like, eight thirty,” she argues, “You should tell her to come. We’ll take care of her before you show up.”  “I’ll take realgood care of her, Munson,” Steve grins.

“Steve.”

Eddie’s head is down on his forearms so he doesn’t know how many people started scolding Harrington over his head. This was overwhelming again – this part. Eddie thought maybe all the fussing over starting to date would be the worst but now it’s every day that they ask about you. At least twice a day in the group chat – Your girl coming to D&D? How was your date last weekend? Is she with you right now? Tell her we all said hi. Are you gonna bring her to Tati’s art show?

He doesn’t have all the answers yet and he doesn’t know where you’re at either. Do you want to meet his friends? Would you even like them?

Everyone yelling at Steve is satisfying, but it would be cooler if you were here to see it.  

The following night he was up late grading papers he should’ve graded a week ago but he was too caught up in his personal life to care. Conversation with you had dwindled quickly last night as he spent more time at the bar and ended up planning the next campaign. You hadn’t reached out at all today and he felt too proud to be the one to text you first, a twinge of resentment plucking at his heart strings in his chest. Hollow loneliness drumming at his ribcage. 

The papers were graded, neatly stacked and put away in his bag for tomorrow, red pen capped and put back on his desk. Eddie groans as he stands up to stretch, peeling off his t-shirt and slipping off his sweatpants, tossing them haphazardly in the corner of the room by his hamper. He kicks off his socks, finally comfortable in his boxers and silver chain, before trudging down to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He comes back to a quiet buzz on his phone, screen glowing to life while he swipes it off his dresser. 

hey, sorry i was so MIA today. things got really busy and hectic, surprise zoom meeting with bloomingdale’s and then a second surprise offer call with bergdorf goodman and then a few vendors wanted to get dinner and schmooze. it’s no excuse honestly but i should’ve messaged you to let you know i was busy. i’m sorry, handsome :( thought about you all day if that helps 

Eddie’s heart leaps in his chest, cheeks already hurting from the smile splitting his face open. You thought about him all day. You thought about him all day. The same way he thinks about you all day. He climbs into bed, snuggling in under the covers with the glow of his phone illuminating his grinning face in the dark. 

don’t apologize, sweetheart, i know you’re busy. glad that your hectic day is over at least, now you can relax! thought about you all day, too. one of my kids kept trying to play juicy by doja cat on the sax at jazz practice, so you came to mind immediately. LMAO. i’ll take that as a compliment. what’re you doing up so late?  grading papers, but i’m done now. i’d ask why you’re up so late but it’s only nine thirty there. what’re you up to? trying this bathing suit on, finally. do you wanna see it?

“Do I wanna see it?” he murmurs, exasperated with an eye roll to no one, “Of course I wanna see it.” 

yeah, show me :) 

He waits with bated breath, trying his best to swipe out of the text conversation and do something else instead of counting the minutes until you reply. His heart hammers in his chest while he waits for the familiar buzz in his hand. 

And there you are, dark red spandex hugging you tight, cinching you in all the right places. His eyes linger on the high cut of the bottom, the way some of the pudge of your hips pokes out at the seams and he bites his lip. ‘Fuck,’ he mumbles quietly. Your thighs on full display for him, thick and begging for him to grab, you’re so fucking grabbable he can’t even stand it. 

jfc you know what you’re doing  whaaaaat? what do you mean?  ‘what do you meaaaannn 🤪’ you know what i mean.  do you not like it?  i like it a little too much  you wanna see it from the back? 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters into the darkness. He feels the blood rush to his pelvis like an army command, cock partially at attention while his hand palms delicately over his boxers. 

of course i do 

He gulps when the picture comes in, you posed like that on purpose. One ass cheek propped up on the bathroom counter, the other lifted and perky from your stance. The soft rolls of your back on display from how you’re turned to still have your pretty face in frame. He’d fucking wreck you. Lovingly, of course.

do you want me to hop on a flight or?? how much are tickets to az? i’m about to come thru.  you got enough blood in your brain to make that trip rn?  lmao you know i don’t 😏 sorry i’m all the way in a different state, i’d help take care of it. 

“Yeah?” he chokes out, palming turning to full slow strokes over the fabric, “You wanna take care of it for me?” 

yeah? you’d take care of it?  only if you asked nicely :) 

“Fuck,” he whispers, tossing his phone down to reach for his side table drawer to reach for the tiny bottle of lube he kept there. He tugs down his boxers hastily, squirting some of the liquid in his palm before picking up the phone again with his clean hand. 

i’d ask very nicely. i’d even say please.  what a good boy. :) 

“M’such a good boy,” he huffs, hand wrapping tightly around the base of his cock and dragging upwards, “I’ll be so good for you.” 

would you want me to use my hands or my mouth? 

“Oh my fucking God,” he groans, brain short circuiting at the thought of you on your knees while he stands over you. Eyes looking up at him with a hand tangled up in your hair, desperately trying to not thrust deep into your throat while you go to work on him. He bites his lip while he fucks his fist, palm and fingers gliding in time with his foreskin, teasing his tip. A fire lights in his belly, cooking up thoughts in his head on how he’d want you first. 

i like the idea of keeping your mouth full  oh you wanna shut me up? is that it?  i don’t think it takes much. 

His head leans back on the wall behind his bed, eyes closing while his hips roll up to meet the speed of his hand, slower now to stave it off. 

“Yeah, suck it just like that…” he hums out, “Please more.” His brows pinch while he looks back at the picture you sent, your glossed lips gleaming back at him. They’d look so good around his cock, your eyes would look so good filled up with tears when you tried to deep throat him.

“T-take all of it,” he stammers out, unsure of his own dirty talk to himself. Would he actually say that? 

Bzz. Bzz.

oh yeah cause you’re soooo big 🙄

“Psh,” he hisses out with a roll of the eyes, hand lifting off his cock to type back. He guesses when it comes to you, he would say that. Just so you’d stop being such a brat. 

you’re gonna feel so stupid when you see it  you sound very confident  because i am  is it big? 

He looks down at himself confidently, laying fat and dense up his stomach, kicking up at the thought of you seeing it for the first time. Chrissy always gawked at it, despite how many times she’d seen it, it was always like she was seeing it for the first time. The girls he’d pull into the bathroom at The Hideout and other bars would whine at the sight. Both him and them slurring together about how they can make it fit. 

its big, sweetheart. but i think you can take it.  i know i can take it.  so sure of yourself tonight, huh? bet you wouldn’t be so cocky if you were here.  so i could watch you jerk it in your bedroom? puhlease. 🙄 i can tell by how you’re talking that you really like the idea of that.  so you are jerking it in your bedroom?  the same way i know you have your fingers between your pretty thighs

He doesn’t know that, but it was worth the shot. His mind reels, thinking of you barely changing out of your swimsuit into nothing to lay back on your hotel bed to touch yourself to him talking to you. He grunts when his hand wraps around his length again, fisting himself with more intention, thinking about your hips writhing in time with his. He wishes he knew how you sounded when you felt good, how you’ll sound when he makes you feel good. And god does he wanna make you feel good. 

🙈 stop  yeah? i can stop.  don’t actually, i’m just embarrassed 😩 how come?  cause i do have my fingers between my thighs 

“Fuuuuuck me,” he groans into a whimper. He shudders a gasp while his hips buck up to meet his hands thrusts, imagining you on top of him, under him, below him, above him. Mouth, hands, pussy, anything of yours bobbing over his cock. Wiping the images clean and starting over with you splayed out on the hotel bed again, trying to keep quiet so your boss won’t hear you through the hotel’s thin walls. 

does it feel good, sweetheart?  it would feel better if you were doing it for me.  can i call you?

“Can I call you?” he reads out loud, in a whisper, “Can I…call you…” 

absolutely. 

Your face pops up on his phone within the minute, phone buzzing rhythmically in his hands. His heart rate jerks alive, stomach dropping like he’s on a roller coaster while it continues to ring. 

He accepts, swallowing thickly as he does. 

“Hey there,” he murmurs. 

“Hi,” your voice is shaky on the other end, he holds back a moan. 

“Hi,” he says back to you, squeezing himself softly at the base again. 

“Do you wanna hear something embarrassing?” you laugh, following up with a soft needy sigh. 

“Always,” he swoons out, low and warm. 

“Your voice is so hot to me,” you giggle, “I don’t think I could finish if I didn’t hear it.” 

“Ah, there you go again, thinking your compliments to me are embarrassing,” he smirks. You sigh again and he lets out a heady breath while he strokes himself, teetering towards a climax. 

“Sorry,” you smile, and he can hear it in your voice, “You having a hot voice isn’t embarrassing. Me getting off to it is embarrassing.” 

He pauses, hearing your shallow breaths pick up, waiting for the right time to strike. His thumb trails over his tip to smear the precum oozing out of it over the head — his eyes roll back as he thinks about your tongue there instead. 

“S’not embarrassing,” his eyelids lower, settling deeper into his pillows. He groans low in his chest before speaking again, “You all wet for me, sugar?” 

“Yeah,” you whine to him. 

“Wish I could be there to take care of you,” he huffs, “I’d make you feel so good.”  

“How?” you ask breathily. 

He smirks, biting his lower lip, letting out a low laugh, “I’d take my time with you. Sounds like you get real needy.” 

“I’m not needy,” you protest. 

“Not needy, but calls me from the other side of the country to cum to my voice?” he argues playfully, “Oh yeah, not needy at all, baby.” 

You whine again, a few huffs of breath sound in the receiver. 

“You like that?” he asks lowly, “When I’m a little mean to you?” 

“Yeah…” 

“Fuck…” he whispers back, blood rushing to the tip, twitching while he works his hand up his shaft.

“Wait – are you actually jacking it right now?” you ask with a laugh. 

“Yeah,” he sighs back, “Are you surprised?” 

“How long have you been doing it?” 

“Since you sent me that picture with your whole ass out,” he confesses with a giggle, it just makes sense to him to answer honestly. 

“Is that how you wanna fuck me?” your voice is laced with depth and sex, his hips buck up at the sound, “From the back?” 

“Maybe not at first,” he starts, imagining he’s in the hotel with you, eyes locking on yours while you touch yourself. Meeting your pleading eyes with a salacious grin while he pumps his cock, climbing on top of the mattress. Climbing on top of you. 

“I’d probably want you on your back so I could see your pretty face,” he offers, “Watch you take it.” 

You sigh into the receiver again and he groans quietly while pleasure starts taking him over. 

“But if I’m being honest…” he starts again, voice lightly teasing. Your breaths pick up, and if he thinks he’s hearing right, you’re very wet. Just because of him, the way he’s talking to you. He shudders before regaining his composure, voice dropping dangerously low. 

“I can’t wait to get my mouth on that pussy,” he slurs out, drunk on the idea. 

“Mmm, fuck,” you mewl out. Okay Munson, maybe you still know how to do this shit. “Oh, you like the sound of that, huh?” he asks, a light raise to his voice, “You like thinking about me between your legs?” 

“Yes,” you huff through gritted teeth. He feels his orgasm creeping up on him quick, your little whines hitting his ear and gliding down his chest to his pelvis. Every soft puff of your breath feels like he’s the one making it punch out of you. 

“I know you’d take it so good, too. You’d get so messy for me,” he groans again when his palm grazes over the underside of his tip, cock leaking cum unceremoniously, sending shockwaves through his system, “Just like you are right now, hm?  Waiting for me to come over ‘n’ fuck you stupid?” “Please,” you whine into a growl, “Please fuck me stupid.” 

“Oh baby, I will,” he moans while he feels his balls tighten, closer and closer to the edge, hearing you pant and beg like that. Just for him. He grunts, breath huffing from his nose like a bull while his orgasm takes him over, cum shooting onto his belly in thick ropes, “F-fuck till you can’t fuckin – mmmf – can’t fuckin’ think.” “Oh! Oh my god, fuck. Fuck!” you cry out into the receiver. He grins, satisfied at that reaction, both of you taking deep breaths into your mics while you both come down. 

“Did you cum for me, sugar?” he drawls. 

“Mhm,” you squeak out. His grin doesn’t fade, it turns dirty, filthy, “Good girl.” 

“Don’t say that.” He can hear your embarrassed smile in your voice, it makes him laugh. He’s normally not like that, that’s not something he thinks he’s ever said in bed – at least not sober. 

“I won’t say it, I’m sorry. You don’t like that?” he asks thoughtfully. 

“I like it a lot and you’re too far away,” you say softly. 

“Poor thing,” he offers. 

“I am a poor thing!” you exclaim. You quiet down a little, both just listening to each other breathe on the other end, “I’m excited to see you again, when I come back.” 

“I’m excited to see you, too,” he smiles while he speaks softly into the receiver, “But lucky for me, I have these pictures of you to hold me over until then.” 

“Visual learner?” you tease. “Physical, too,” he counters. 

“You really are trouble,” you laugh, “And um – I don’t want you to think that like, the only reason I wanna see you is just to have sex or anything. I just really like spending time with you.” 

“I don’t think that at all,” he assures, “I really, really like spending time with you. I’m – and this is gonna sound super lame – but I’m excited to keep on getting to know you.” 

“Lamest thing I’ve ever heard,” you laugh, “But also, same. We can be lame together.” “Oh – uh, by the way,” Eddie’s voice reverts back to normal while a reminder jolts his body awake, “The group really wants to meet you and I know it’s gonna be the day after you get back and you might want to rest, but Steve’s birthday party is Friday if you wanna come. Totally understand if you’re gonna be too tired.” “Oh no, I’d love that!” he can hear you shifting on the mattress, likely getting ready for bed, “Steve’s the one whose Instagram request I shouldn’t accept, right?” Eddie laughs, “Right.”

You both talk for a little longer before he tells you it’s getting late and you should get some rest since you had such a long day. He doesn’t want to hang up, but you’re both too old to be doing the ‘falling asleep on the phone’ thing. Plus, he had to be up for work in five hours. 

Eddie slides into the seat on his Honda Civic and sighs – he’s tired. He doesn’t want to go to Steve’s party where everyone is gonna be loud and drunk by the time he gets there. He hates playing catch up, but you’re gonna be there so he’s doing his best to hype himself up before he starts the car. He cracks the Monster Energy sitting in his center console and chugs it, heaving a deep breath before starting the car. Mayhem’s Freezing Moon blares through his speakers and he nods to himself, Good, good, good. It would be a hype enough song to get him excited on the way there. He gives himself a once over in the rearview mirror, looking the same as he did when he freshened up in the teacher’s bathroom after the Jazz Club performed during the Spring Concert. His slim fit black slacks still kept their crease, his wallet chains still dangled from his pocket. Eddie took your advice and started wearing more green, a hunter short sleeved linen blend button up laid open and loose over a clean and expensive white t-shirt. If he didn’t know any better, he would say he looked hot. His hair was coiffed and coiled – he made sure to get a trim before you came back just to touch up the shag. His tattoos were the showiest you’d ever seen them and deeply moisturized, his silver chain and small rings were recently cleaned. 

He wants you to lose your mind when you see him, but when he walks into the bar he knows he already lost. There you are, standing at the bar with Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Dustin while they laugh with you at some story you’re telling. You’re all legs in your little black skirt with a cute cropped ‘ARIZONA’ sweatshirt cinching you in right at the waist. Your little white sneakers were shining purple in the black light of the bar, you probably wear these everywhere. 

“Eddie!” Dustin calls out, giving a big wave to call him towards the party. You whip around, beaming while he makes his way over, meeting him part way with a drink in your hand. He can smell your perfume immediately and he’s surprised he hasn’t already fallen to his knees. “Started without me, huh?” he asks, nodding to the drink in your hand. “I tried to get Steve a drink but he said it was a better gift for him to buy me one…or two,” you tell him sheepishly. Eddie catches Steve’s eyes over your shoulder when he pulls you in to say hello and shakes his head. Steve smirks, blowing him a kiss before mouthing, ‘Her ass? Insane.’ putting his hands out to show off the size of it. Eddie flips him off while he lets you go. 

“Everyone’s been really nice though,” you smile, giving him a once over, “You look really good.” 

“Thank you,” he says in your ear, kissing your cheek, “You look too good. Don’t think I can let you stick around here too long.” 

“S’kinda hot when you’re like that,” you grin sloppily, biting your lip. The tequila’s blurring the filter in your head a little, he can tell you’re just saying what comes to mind, eyes a little glassy. 

“Like what?” “A lil’ possessive,” you shrug. He tucks a knuckle under your chin, lifting your gaze toward him for a moment.  “Okay,” he smiles, leaning in to kiss you much more passionately than you expected. Your mouth is cold against his, tongue sliding in to taste the tequila on yours. He snakes one arm around your waist so that you’re chest to chest, both of you laughing against each other’s lips while Tati and the group whoop and holler over your makeout. He breaks away, looking down at you, eyes sparkling. 

“I missed you,” he says confidently. 

“I missed you,” you smile, pulling him tight against you. This was what he was waiting for. An ounce of clinginess so that he didn’t feel so insane for wanting to be close to you all the time. He leads you back over to the bar, hand on your lower back while you put yourself back in your little group. 

“What’re you having tonight, big boy?” Ed asks Steve, clapping him on the back in a brotherly hug. 

“Surprise me – you doing shots?” he asks. Eddie nods, getting the bartender’s attention when she makes his way over. 

“Can I get four shots of Jameson and then two for my buddy over here?” he asks, pointing at Steve with his thumb. The bartender nods, lining up the shot glasses and starting the pour. “I don’t really like Jameson,” you scrunch your nose. 

“Well baby, they’re all for me, so don’t worry about it,” he grins playfully, white teeth shining, “I’ll get you something else when you finish that drink.” 

You nod lazily, pulled into conversation with Robin while Steve and Eddie start taking their shots. The whiskey feels good hitting his throat, burning just enough to reinvigorate him for the rest of the night. He clicks his tongue when he downs them all, the scent of Tatianna’s vanilla perfume overtakes him before her hands cover his eyes from behind. 

“Guess who it is,” she laughs. 

“Someone who used my Warm Vanilla Sugar hand lotion today,” he answers, his fingers running over hers while he peels her hands away. He turns to her to pull her into a hug and then hugging Gareth behind her, already with their drinks in hand. 

“Look, it went with the fragrance I was wearing today. You used my curl cream again so – you can’t even be mad,” she shrugs, beckoning him over with her hand, “Come sit with us really quick.” 

Eddie turns to get your attention but Tatianna stops him, “She’s a big girl, she’s been doing fine on her own without you here, so far. Let her make friends.” Eddie pouts and Gareth pats him on the back after passing Tati’s drink to her, guiding him over to their booth close by the end of the bar. Eddie sits in the middle of the bench, looking like a kid who just got in trouble and is about to get a stern talking to by his parents. “So…” Eddie starts. 

“I really like her, dude,” Gareth grins, “Came in and immediately knew who we were, introduced herself, offered to get us a round. All around seems very much your vibe.” 

“And you, mom?” he asks, eyes lifting up through his lashes to look at Tatianna who has a smug grin on her face. 

“All I’m saying is that you should always be listening to me when I tell you to do something,” she shrugs, “‘Cause what if you had deleted the app that night? Would’ve never met the love of your life right there.” 

“Love of my life? You think?” he asks, eyes widening. “I know. Her energy is exactly what I thought it was gonna be,” Tatianna explains, gold rings in her twists flashing back the neon reflecting on them, “And you’ve been down bad for the past few weeks so I knew there had to be something about her that was really good.” 

“So you like her?” Eddie grins. 

“We love her,” Tatianna nods, “Consider her adopted.” 

“Steve loves her too, it looks like,” Eddie huffs, looking back over at the bar to see Steve showing you something on his phone, a little too close for comfort. 

“He’s behaving himself, don’t worry,” Dustin says while he slides in next to Eddie, “We all gave him a warning before she got here. Plus, he’s got two girls on his radar right now that he’s trying to take home if he doesn’t get too drunk – but y’know, we’re banking on the getting too drunk part.” 

“Always banking on the getting too drunk part,” Gareth laughs. 

The night continues on, people coming and going, getting up to dance, getting new drinks. He watches you blend in seamlessly, swaying with Tatianna at the bar while you wait for a rum and coke for you and water for him. He still has to drive home after all. 

“What do you know about this song?” Tatianna laughs while Victoria Monet’s Coastin’ booms over the speakers. You both walk back over, two stepping in time until Gareth pulls Tatianna in tight to him, rocking back and forth with each other and stealing kisses. 

Eddie watches you approach him while you lipsync the words playfully, hips swaying in in time with the beat. 

‘Think of the waaaays, The ways I wanna give you this ass, Just how you liiiiike, Feel like a Thursday how I’m throwin’ it back.’ “The ways you wanna give me this ass, huh?” he smirks, eyes flitting over you while he takes the water yor offer him. You keep up with your sway, pressing up close to him – you look up with a fake unamused quirk of your brow and he knows you’re about to say something bitchy that’ll make him fall for you even harder. “I don’t think you could handle it,” you flirt. 

“You know something?” he starts, putting his water on the table of the booth, catching you before you can sit down, “I think I can handle you just fine.” You burn at his words, a shy grin pulling at your lips when he sits down at the edge of the bench next to Nancy and across from Steve and Robin. It’s fun to flirt with you like this, right on the precipice of something a little dirty. He wants you so bad and if he knows women as well as he thinks he does, he knows you want him so bad, too.  He pats his thigh, encouraging you to sit on his lap. You hesitate at first but he nods encouragingly, a silent Please, it’s okay. You settle in, the table high enough that both sets of your thighs fit under the table. He takes a breath before letting his hands settle on your skin, imagining what it might be like when he gets to put his hands on all of it. 

Everyone banking on Steve getting too drunk to take someone home was right, him and Robin were already in their codependent best friend phase of the night where they only want to hang out with each other, hands cupped tight on the table. You’re talking to Robin about a game that’s like Sims but 8-bit – 

“It’s called Unpacking and it’s so cute, you basically unpack a house or a room and you learn more about the person’s story by unpacking their boxes – sort of like Sims but with actual feelings that you don’t have to make up,” you enthuse. 

“Is it on Steam?” she asks, “I’ll literally buy it right now.” 

“We’re partying, Rob, don’t play a dumb game,” Steve whines. 

“She’s not gonna play it right now, Steve,” Nancy chides, “She’s gonna play it later. Don’t worry, we all know tonight is about you.” 

Lucas comes over to the table looking aggravated, Max grinning next to him in a smile that Eddie knows too well. Lucas lost a bet and has to pay up, Eddie wonders what they bet on this time. 

“Why does your Dragon’s Lair score have to be so fucking high? Can you literally let anyone have anything?” Lucas huffs. 

“Don’t be so sad, Sinclair – you can always try to beat Red’s score,” Eddie shrugs, smirking smugly at the pair. 

“She’s 250 points behind you, and you’re both like, seven thousand points ahead of everyone else,” he huffs. 

“What’d’you owe her this time?” he asks. 

“I can’t even tell you out loud,” he sighs. Max cackles, offering her hand and leading him back over to the Party at the bar, fingers laced with each other while they talk. Eddie adjusts under you, groin shifting under your ass by accident but he savors how delicious it feels to have you on top of him like this. 

“Are there any other games in there that you have a high score on?” you ask, breath hitching slightly while his hands coast teasingly over your bare skin under the table. Your posture straightens when his fingers glide up your inner thigh, brushing his fingertips past the hem of your skirt. You like that, he thinks, your body language tells him all he needs to know to keep going. 

“The Dracula pinball machine,” he replies confidently. 

“I’m gonna go beat it,” you grin up at him. 

“Oh yeah?” he asks, hand sliding off your thigh when you get up to head to the arcade room,  “You even know how to play?” 

“You can show me,” you shrug. He doesn’t really have to show you, pinball is pretty self explanatory, but he doesn’t want to give up a chance to have you alone. He leads you to the machine, pointing out where you want the ball to hit for the best chance at extra points. The music on the sound system is loud and the machine’s music matches it so he has to get close to your ear to explain. 

“Do you think I don’t really know how to play or do you just wanna get close to me?” you ask, turning your head to look at him while he chin hooks over your shoulder. “You caught me,” he blushes, hand resting on your hip while he fills the gap between your back and his chest, “I’m sure you’re gonna do just fine.” 

And you do, in fact, you’re really fucking good at pinball and he’s almost mad about it. “Where did you learn to do this?” he asks after you rack up nearly three fourths of his high score in one go, the ball just narrowly missing the lever before sinking down to be propelled again. 

“Summers on the boardwalk in New Hampshire,” you grin, “My uncle lives over there so we go visit him every year. Played one pinball machine every summer – my high score still stands, like, eleven years later.” “That’s so hot to me, oh my god,” he laughs while you get the next ball rolling onto the board. You lean forward, hips jutting out against him while you really get into it, concentrating hard. Eddie’s breath hitches when you slowly move your hips against him, so slow that he’s not sure if you’re doing it on purpose or not.  Rihanna’s Work starts over the speakers and  that’s when he knows it’s on purpose. Your movement’s pick up a little, lost in the game and in the beat. You’re a good dancer and that makes his mind wander to other things you might be good at. Your fingers work quick on either side of the machine, lights flashes against both of your faces while you keep trying to win and he keeps trying to not pull your skirt up in the middle of Barcade. 

While the song continues, he stops paying attention to you playing, so caught up in how your waist winds and ass bounces against him that he doesn’t realize you aren’t even playing any more. His hips grind slowly back against you, one hand on your lower back, the other gripping your hip to keep you in position. This isn’t new territory for him, pulled into clubs by Tati and Gare, Robin and Steve, everyone else, from the moment things opened back up again in Indiana. When you look back at him he short circuits at first, but he knows you’re surprised he can dance like this. Maybe you forgot, but he does teach Music Theory – rhythm is kind of his whole thing. Of course he has it.  

Your hips roll, making your ass run painstakingly slow and firm over his hardening cock. A groan gets stuck in his throat, reaching out to your shoulder to pull you up right again with your back against his chest. 

“You like bein’ a tease?” he asks, voice deep and daunting. 

“Just getting you back for what you did under the table,” you say matter-of-factly, turning around to face him with your butt leaning against the machine, “You’re not the only one here who knows how to be a slut.” “Also, I beat you,” you grin. 

“Looks like you did,” he says, eyes passing yours to look at the new high score glowing on the outdated screen. 

“Do I win a prize?” 

“M’sure I can think of something,” he murmurs, lips pressing against yours while both of your eyes flutter closed. He takes your hand, leading you to the dark corner close by, both of you hidden by the now defunct change machine to press you up against the wall. “What do you think you deserve?” he purrs before catching your mouth in his again. His kiss is a little sloppy, a little needy, it’s the four shots of Jameson. Not too drunk to drive, but buzzed enough that he doesn’t care about his kissing technique, he just wants to taste you. “Oh, it’s like that?” you giggle mischievously, “I don’t think we can do what I think I deserve in a public place.” 

“Hmm, okay, not into exhibitionism I guess,” he huffs a laugh while his kisses trail to your neck, knee slotting between your legs where you eagerly press up against him. He feels one of your hands fall into his hair, making his assault on the crook of your neck more intense when you give it a slight pull. “Kiss me,” you whine softly. “M’sorry, sorry,” he smirks, meeting your lips again, “You just smell really good, I like being in there.” “You’re a really good –” Kiss. “Mmm--kisser.” “Thanks, sugar, you’re –” Kiss. “Not so bad your –” Kiss. “Mmm shit – yourself.”  He can barely think like this, so close to you but not close enough. Hands on your waist and hips to guide you against part of his thigh while a little whine pulls out of you. He can’t hold off much longer, feeling his pants grow unbearably tight. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he mumbles against your jaw, a satisfied smile blooms on his face when you roll your hips against his knee again. 

“You don’t wanna hear everyone drunkenly sing Steve happy – oh, mmm – happy birthday?” you pant out while he presses kisses at the curve of your jaw back to your mouth. His hand entwines with the hair at the nape of your neck, giving you a soft tug to keep your head in place. 

“The only thing I wanna hear right now,” he purrs in your ear, “Is what you sound like when I’m making you cum.” 

The ride home is quick, barely saying goodbyes while he pulled you through the crowds building at the bar and paid the tab. Gareth shot him a wink as they left, tossing you both a wave but neither of you could think of anything else except each other. 

He dropped his keys twice trying to get in the door of his first floor apartment, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” you smile, “Just breathe. I’m still gonna be here.” 

The door opens and he takes a millisecond to rip your coat off and kick off his shoes, instructing you to kick off your sneakers or Tati would likely emerge from the walls and kill you both for walking into the house with your outside shoes on. His lips immediately attach to yours. There’s no time to waste for him, pulling you over to the couch and plopping down with an excited puff of breath. “C’mere baby,” he beckons you over with two fingers, grinning up at you while you climb over his lap to straddle him. His kiss is searing, hands exploring you with abandon, all the ways he’s been thinking about touching you were now fair play. No one here to see either of you, no one around to interrupt. You can feel how hard he is under his dress pants, the material leaves little to the imagination. The gentle curve of it, its thickness, the length, all pressing up against you with every mutual roll of your hips. 

You choke out a whimper when it hits just right up against your clothed slit. Eddie looks up at you mischievously, greedily sucking on your neck for a moment before catching your gaze a little.

“That’s all it takes? Just pushing my hips up like that?” he purrs, rolling them up again slowly, “Is that what you want?”

“Uh-huh,” you breathe. He bites at the skin on your chest, not hard enough to hurt. He grips and grabs you but not hard enough to bruise. He’s testing the waters, seeing what you like and how you like it. His hands travel down past your hips, gripping the fat of your ass.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans into your mouth, exploring you more, his palms flattening against your skirt while it rides up, the curve of your cheeks warm in his hands. 

“Finally got to grab it the way you wanted to?” you tease between breaths. 

“Mhmm,” he groans, “Now I just gotta smack it around.” 

You take his lower lip between your teeth, making his cock twitch when you let it go to click back against his gums. 

“Ooh, you wanna spank me?” you laugh into your next kiss. His hand reaches up to pull at your waist, pushing you tighter up against him. His fingers graze between your legs from behind while your head falls back in a breathy gasp. 

“Do you want me to spank you?” he asks, brows raised inquisitively.  

“Maybe not tonight,” you shrug with a smirk, hips winding over him in a way that makes him really feel you. He growls when you do it, hands guiding your hips to do it again, “Maybe only when I’ve been bad.” 

“Jus’lemme know,” he grumbles, pupils taking over the brown in his eyes, “So I can  — mmm, shit — teach ya a lesson.” 

“Next time,” you huff into his next kiss. He manhandles you so that your back is to the cushions and throw pillows, switching your positions so that he’s on top.

“Next time,” he nods, pulling your sweatshirt off and dropping it to the floor, “But since you’re so good, it only makes sense that you get a reward, right?” 

“I did beat you at pinball, so…” you grin. He grins back, kissing your neck hungrily, slotting his knee between your legs like he did at the bar. 

“You did beat me at pinball,” he nods, a soft growl brewing in his chest when he feels you start to grind against him. Insatiable, he thinks, Greedy girl. But he doesn’t know if he can say that to you yet. He doesn’t know, all the way, what you like. He feels his heart hammer in his chest at the fear of realizing it – you aren’t Chrissy. What if he was only good because Chrissy thought so? What if he wasn’t actually – 

“Oh!” you squeak out, hand reaching out to grip his bicep. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, pulling away from your neck to look at you, big brown eyes blown with nerves. 

“Y-yeah that’s just…where you’re kissing…that’s a spot for me,” you admit bashfully, unable to look at him. 

“Sweetheart,” he shakes his head with a knowing smirk, “Shouldn’t’ve told me that.” 

A kiss on the lips is his only consolation to you before he goes back to your neck, tongue trailing down to its last spot where he parks his teeth and lips. You like that. He hears you like it. And fucking God is it good to hear you like this, to hear you in person, moaning and whining in his ear just from kissing and sucking this spot on your neck. 

“Eddie…” you breathe, high pitched and desperate, hips still pressing against his knee for friction. He can’t help but go back to your lips, but before he does, he peeks to see the marks he left behind. 

Lips become neck, neck becomes chest, chest becomes stomach, stomach becomes hips, and before you know it he’s on his knees on the rug in front of you. Eddie’s eyes find yours when he’s kneeling between your legs, the center of your thighs looking him in the face. He places a kissing on the inside of your knee, gentle and soft. 

He opens his mouth to ask, but you nearly read his mind, tugging up the hem of your skirt over your thick thighs. He helps, pushing the fabric up over your hips and ass so he gets another chance to touch and feel you. Once he settles back down he takes a breath, smiling up at you while he readjusts your legs to open a little wider, mouth making contact with your skin soon after. His lips capture the fat of your inner thigh, traveling down in passionate kisses, like your skin is divinity that he’s found for the first time. 

“You’re so soft,” he whispers, lips ghosting over your underwear to reach the top of your other knee, planting a kiss there too. 

“Thank you,” you breathe out. He lets out a low, teasing giggle at the state of you, head lolling back on the couch while he kisses the inside of one thigh and runs his hand over the outside of the other. His kisses stop and he looks up at you from between your legs, big brown eyes begging you to let him in. A ringed finger teases over the gusset of your underwear, the way you bite your lip gives him the approval to keep going. His slides your panties off, run of the mill black cheeky cut cotton that he wished he could’ve stripped you down to. Just to see that ass swallowing them, to see the way they sat on the curves of your hips. 

“You nervous?” he asks with a smile while your legs close, your underwear placed on the floor next to your shirt.

“A little,” you giggle. 

“Don’t be nervous, baby,” he coos, hands cupping under your knees to spread your legs again, “Just gonna make you feel good.” 

He sighs when your legs open up for him, already wet and puffy, you’d been thinking about this all night. Eddie nips softly at your inner thigh again before he lets his lips linger over your folds. You squirm your hips closer to him, a whine leaking out of your mouth. 

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, “I won’t tease you, I’m sorry.” 

But he’s lying. Leaning in to get close, only to ghost a breath over your clit. Fingers sliding to your slick lips to separate them slightly for more access to you. He pauses, leaning back away from your pussy and looks up at you quizzically.

“Actually, should I put on Hey Mr. DJ to set the mood? Since it’s so fucknasty…” gesturing his thumb towards the sound system on the other side of the room. You let out a mix of a laugh and a groan while his kisses coast on your thighs again.

“You said you wouldn’t teaaaasssseeee-oh my God,” you moan out when his mouth meets your clit without warning, soft, slow sucks and licks. 

“You like that, sugar?” he asks, voice dropping down to a bassy gravel. 

You nod feverishly, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 

“Mmm, don’t stop?” he asks, tongue gliding from your entrance to your clit. 

“Please,” you gasp, hand reaching out to run through his hair, bangs pushing back to reveal the soft lines of his forehead. 

“Well you’re asking so nice, seems a little mean to keep you waiting,” he coos, fingers replacing his mouth while he talks, “But I thought you liked it when I was a little mean.” 

“Don’t be mean, Ed,” you pout. 

“Okay, I won’t be mean,” he smiles, opening your legs a little wider. He’s confident about his skills here, Chris loved getting eaten out so he dedicated a lot of time to getting it right. It helped that he loved going down, watching his partner gasp and whine while he serves her on his knees. Feeling the tug on his hair when he’s doing it right, making her feel good. The press of her hand to push him closer to her when she’s getting close, giving it to her over and over again. 

“Oh fuck, Ed — oh my god, baby,” you mewl, hips grinding up against his mouth. He smirks into the next stripe of his tongue, latching onto your clit to suck softly while his fingers press against your entrance. His eyes gaze up at you, your own going glassy while you look down at him. 

“I like when you look at me like that,” he confesses quietly, mouth returning to its actions immediately. He keeps his eyes on you while his first finger pushes in, he groans at the feeling — snug, warm, wet. He drags out slowly, a high pitched moan escaping you when he pushes back in with little resistance. His head moves with his mouth, tongue laving over your clit, lips pursing over it when he feels your pulse over his finger. 

“You’re so good — fuck — you’re so good at this,” you sigh. The praise runs down his chest and along his spine, he moans gratefully into his next kiss against you. He stripes his tongue again, using his other hand to keep your lips spread for more access. Your thighs twitch while he goes back to soft deliberate sucking, alternating between that and gentle fluttering flicks from the tip of his tongue. 

“That’s good for you?” he mumbles. 

“You’re so good for me,” you whisper back, gripping his hair hard when he pushes his second finger in, “Just…unhm, just like that.” 

He keeps a steady pace with his fingers, evidence of his skill coating them while he does. He wants to drag this out a while, take his time with you like he said he would. He breaks his mouth away for a moment to really look at you, just in your bra and skirt. His heart skips a beat, breath caught in his throat. You’re so beautiful, he thinks. Too afraid to say it outloud. What if you don’t like that while you have sex? You said you like when he was a little mean, does that mean he should be mean all the time? 

“Earth to Ed…” he hears you say, your hand waving in his face. He looks back up at you, startled, “You okay? You stopped and sort of just…stared for a second.” 

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” he laughs to himself, taking his fingers away to massage the inside of your thighs with both hands, “Just got caught up staring at you.” 

“Ew,” you giggle with a smile, “You think I’m pretty or somethin’?” 

Eddie leans up between your legs on the couch where you come down to meet him, noses inches apart, “Well I don’t wanna be too forward…” 

“You’re literally eating me out, you can’t get any more forward,” you both laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Of both being shaky and shy even this far into the game. 

“Like I was saying — I don’t wanna be too forward, but I think you’re honestly so beautiful,” he blushes bashfully, looking down so all you can see are his full lashes, “And I didn’t wanna be corny and say it while I’m like, neck deep in your pussy.”

“That’s very sweet, baby.” You run your hand through his hair, pushing back one side when he looks up at you again. Baby. He likes when you call him that. He likes when you call him baby. He’s excited for you to call him other names like pretty boy, and babe, and honey. He wants to hear ‘em all. He wants you to spend the night so he can make you breakfast in the morning — for like…ever. You kiss him and he shudders, cock jumping in his slacks for a hint of attention — but he has a job to finish. 

“You’re very sweet,” he says, nuzzling your nose before kissing your cheek, then your jawline, your neck, your chest, down and further down until he’s between your legs again — he doesn’t tease this time. He licks at your entrance, replacing his fingers with his tongue to lap up what you have for him. Your thighs tremble he trails back up, swirling his tongue over your clit when his fingers snugly sink back inside you. 

“Eddie…” 

“You gonna cum for me?” he asks, voice smokey and deep. He lets his fingers search inside you for your g-spot, grinning when he finds it. Your moan is loud when he massages it, hips pushing down into the couch cushions, head thrown back while you grind against him. 

“M’so close,” you huff, “That feels so good, please don’t stop. Don’tstopdon’tstop.” 

He grunts, feeling your thighs jump while he keeps up his pace. His tongue gets sloppy with it, wet and filthy, pooling spit out of his mouth in droves to mix with your slick. He fills you with a third finger, legs parting further again while you huff into the stretch. 

“Ooh, you can really take it, baby,” he encourages, “Look at you takin’ all these fingers.” He glides the flat of his tongue over you once before leaning back to watch you. The pads of his fingers press in slow circles against your g-spot again, smirking when your eyes roll back. 

“M’gonna cum…oh shit  — oh fuck Ed I’m g.. — ohfuck — fuckfuckfuck — mmm-ah!” Your hips jump, lifting off the couch, writhing to pull away while you feel your orgasm rush rapidly to its peak. 

“Thaaaat’s it,” he smiles, mouth returning home to its place latched over you. He holds your hips down with his free hand, eyes fluttering closed while he continues. A slight flit of his tongue right as he pumps his fingers in puts stars in your eyes, thighs snapping closed on either side of his head — exactly what he wanted.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you chant with strained, shaking vocal chords, tears pricking your eyes. Eddie groans when he feels your walls clench down hard over his fingers, flooding over him down his hand. You hiss while he keeps going, fingers easing out of you but tongue licking up as much as he can while you come down in shivers. 

“You okay?” he asks, when your thighs release him. You reach for his hand, still covered in your juices and pull it toward you — but he knows your game. He knows you’re gonna lick it off and give him those eyes — so he pulls his wrist away, “Oh, no baby.”  

Eddie delicately puts his fingers in his mouth, eyes on yours with a glint of satisfaction, and gently sucks them clean instead. 

“I don’t like to waste it, sugar,” he croons, “I can make you something if you’re hungry.” 

His sexy act breaks when you roll your eyes at him, clearly flustered by his antics in your post orgasm glow. He snickers when he stands up, leaning down to peck you with your arousal still smeared on his mouth and chin. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” you pout. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pouts back. A peck turns to a kiss, a kiss to something passionate. 

“Why don’t I go get cleaned up,” he starts, before catching you in another kiss.

“You should pee since that’s the smart thing to do before and after,” he presses a kiss to your neck.

“And then I’ll take you to bed,” he murmurs huskily, “How’s that?” 

“That’s really nice,” you rasp back, turning so that you’re nose to nose, “But I am a little hungry now that you said that.” 

“You’re funny,” he smiles, another kiss, “I’ll get us a snack and then I’ll take you to bed, is that better?” 

“Much better.”  

Eddie passes you your panties and shirt, and points out where the bathroom is down the hall. While you traipse along, he opens the fridge, taking out the tiramisu he got as dessert with his takeout last night but didn’t get around to eating. He slices the generous cut in half, gently placing it on two tea plates and grabbing two forks. 

“Do you like tiramisu?” he asks when he hears your socked feet pad into the kitchen. 

“I do. My mom’s is the best actually,” you brag. He turns around to see you, your bright smile, your refreshed face. 

“Will you still eat it if it’s not your mom’s?” he asks, offering you the plate. 

“Yes, of course,” you nod, taking both plates out of his hands and placing them on the table, “But first I gotta –” 

Eddie’s taken aback by the kiss, but you don’t notice. He’s swift at the pick up, matching your pace expertly and hoisting you up onto the counter with surprising ease. He grunts when you pull him forward between your legs by the belt loops because he knows you’re trying to fuck just as much as he is. 

“Baby…” he starts, regretfully breaking away, “Are you hungry or not?” 

You don’t answer at first, you just look at him and kiss him again. When you pull away, your gaze lingers. Fear coasts icily over his chest when you almost look forlorn. 

“Shit…” you whisper, shoulders drooping. 

“Wh-what? What is it?” he asks, hands getting clammy where they rest on your thighs.

“I…” you take a deep breath, it shakes when you exhale, “I really fucking like you.” 

He smiles, but he knows why this is your response, why you look like this, why your shoulders sulk — because he’s also there, “Does that make you scared?” 

You nod, but instead of going in to kiss you again he pulls you close, smooching your cheek before leaning your head on his shoulder. 

“It’s okay that you’re scared,” he murmurs, “But if it’s any consolation…”

“I really fucking like you, too.” 

When you kiss again, he’s overwhelmed. 

“Fuck the tiramisu,” you breathe, “Let’s just —.” 

“Mhm,” he breathes back, hoisting you off the counter, balancing you on his hips, “I fucking need you.” 

Jingle. Click. Creak. 

“HONEY, WE’RE HOME!” calls the voice of a sloshed Steve Harrington, from the front door, “Put your clothes on, sluts.” 

But it’s not just Steve, it’s the whole party — the group filing into the living room while you hurriedly slide down Eddie’s form. Tatianna and Gareth follow in after everyone gets their shoes off, laughing and joking with Robin and Dustin while they stumble through the door. They halt when they catch Eddie’s expression from the other room, a stare so cold it could freeze them both. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Gareth mouths, realizing with deep regret what they’ve interrupted. Tatianna makes her way over, making a face of pure guilt when she makes it into the kitchen. 

“So here’s the thing, my phone died and Steve was using Gareth’s phone to change the music and I forgot to text you,” she explains to the both of you, “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s seriously okay,” you laugh, “Please don’t feel bad. It’s you and Gareth’s apartment, too.” 

“Are you mad at me?” Tati pouts at Eddie, who could not stay mad at Tati for even a second. 

He puffs a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms, “No, no, I’m not mad at you. It’s okay.” 

“Okay,” she smiles, opening her arms for a hug which he obliges without question, “Gare’s sorry too, but unfortunately he’s busy babysitting Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum with Nance.”  Eddie looks down at you when he lets go of Tatianna, reaching his hand out to rub your back, “She means Robin and Steve.” 

“I figured,” you smile. Tatianna makes her exit and you’re both alone in the kitchen again. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie offers, using the leverage of his hand on your back to pull you in close to him. 

“What, why? There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you furrow your brow, forearms leaning up the length of his chest. The opening bass of Dua Lipa’s One Kiss starts to thump from the soundsystem in the living room into the kitchen, along with Steve’s passionate This is my favorite fucking song, holy shit. 

“Everything got ruined,” he frowns, “I’m like, kind of embarrassed.” 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you urge, pulling him a little closer to give him a reassuring kiss, “There’s always next time. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” 

“No?” he asks, leaning his forehead against yours, “You’re stayin’ right here?” 

“Well, until I have to go to home,” you shrug. The music gets a little louder and Eddie throws his disappointment to the wind. There is always next time. For now, he has you here in his kitchen, lips on yours, hands on your cheeks, the steady thump of the beat of his heart. And of course, Steve drunk crying to Robin in the living room – You’re literally my best fucking friend. You’re my best fucking friend Rob, I love you so much. 

Eddie giggles against your mouth at the sound, an ache caught in his chest. He really fucking likes you. 

[tarjapearce]

Cast Away

Warning: ANGST, Emotional discomfort, mentions of miscarriage, controlled substance use, not a happy ending. So sorry for this in advance :<

"LYLA? you copy?" Jess spoke through the intercom as she stared at your holographic projection on her watch.

"Anomaly suspect identified, she's... buying tea?" Confusion was evident in the AI's voice as she pinpointed your exact location. "Huh, thought she was dangerous."

"We don't know that yet, she could ambush us at any-"

"She's coming your way!"

Jess' aracnid senses tingled as you approached, revving her motorbike she came straight at you, stopping a few meters away from your civilian looking self.

"We can do this the good way or the bad way" Her brown eyes narrowed but you just sighed and put your packaged drink down and held your hands up to her.

"L-Let's calm down, shall we?" You stepped closer but she just revved the engine again, suspicion rising and it made you stop walking. The hairs of your back stood as your senses tingled weakly, contrary to Jessica's.

"Please, I... just wanna talk, ok? I just wanna go home."

"LYLA" Jess spoke as the AI materialized and ran a scan through you.

"Her vitals are normal, heartbeats a bit wild, but no signs of unusual brain activity that dictates irregular behavior."

You glitched and slumped to the floor in pain. Then, you curled your knees closer and your arms around them to create a little space for you. Eyes seizing the woman in red , but stopped as her round belly came in sight. Your hands held tightly and soon your eyes tore themselves from her.

"Brain activity detected, serotonin levels just dropped." Lyla spoke through the intercomand Jess frowned again as you glitched once more with a whimper.

"She seems in distress, Jessica." Lyla kept speaking as the spider woman just looked at you, unsure on how to proceed. Anomalies were usually feisty, a menace, dangerous. But you, were the odd out. You just curled into a ball and sulked.

She exhaled tiredly and turned the motorbike off. Her tingling had stopped the moment Lyla gave a diagnose on your biometrics, but still kept her distance. She however, tapped some instructions before looking at you.

"I'll be there soon." Miguel spoke through her intercom. Jess' eyes were on you again and she crossed her arms above her belly, waiting.

"How far are you?" You broke the silence first.

"Six months to go."

You nodded giving her a weak smile.

"That's a beautiful baby bump."

"Thanks." she spoke curtly, but that didn't stop you from talking.

"Baby girl or boy?"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, but softened at the way your eyes looked at her grown belly. A sight she had seen before in her universe, a sight that only soon to be mothers gave her with awe, but yours were pained.

"I want it to be surprise."

You nodded as tears prickled the corner of your eyes.

"Universe 413 has the best supplements for pregnancy , or so I could... check." You spoke as you grabbed a small paper cup from the forgotten package and sipped it to warm yourself. The weather in universe 413 was cold, despite the blazing sun standing proud in the background.

"Might look into it. How did you end up here?"

"That's what I wanna know. I was about to meet my husband for a celebration... and I was just sucked in here. Fell on a pool, had to steal someone clothes and... Im just trying to warm up and go home." You rubbed your eyes to. prevent more tears to pile up.

"Ever since I got here I've been glitching nonstop and my powers are even more messed up. It's scary and confusing." 

"Wait, how long have you been here?"

"Just a couple of days, but it feels forever."

As you finished your tea a new portal opened up, revealing a tall figure materializing before you. You were immediately locked up in what it seemed a electric-crystal like, custom made jail.

"Wha-"

"Easy there... We're taking you home." Jess spoke as she hopped on her bike once more and disappeared in the portal before giving a last glance your way.

"I'll get it from here." The sudden male and familiar noise sent chills down your spine. Tears flooded your already glossed eyes as the masked figure stared at you. His hand clenched upon the first tear rolling down.

--------

In the blink of an eye you were already in a place that made so many memories to flood in, most of them bittersweet.

"Lyla, access to this area is denied temporarily." Miguel spoke, his back still facing you

"Gotcha." Just as the voice had appeared, it vanished. The glass like prison vanished, just as his mask. You knew that stance more than anyone else, but still, it was the least of places you wanted to be.

"How..." he tried, and cleared his throat, sighing silently. "How you ended up in another universe?"

"A portal sucked me in. It appeared out of nowhere. Let me go home." His back tensed at your words, finally he turned to face you, but his frown deepened upon watching you. Your scent was different. Everything about you was different. Your gentle eyes were gone, and so your usual amiable self.

"What did you do?" Glaring, you held your stare at him as your jaw clenched.

"Inhibitors"

His eyes widened in disbelief for a moment before going to the usual scowl he always carried.

"Inhibitors, of course" He mumbled before throwing a furniture for it to land on Spider byte's station. It was just him and you. You didn't flinch at the explosive outburst, rather, braced yourself with an exasperated sigh.

"Why would you ever do that?! " His voice laced with anger and a soft bit of concern, "You know what they do to us."

"I want a normal life." you seethed

He scoffed and shook his head.

"You well damn know that is not possible for people like us."

"But that never stopped you. Right?"

His jaw tensed as his fist clenched.

"Right, Miguel?" You glared at him though his back faced you.

"There we go... Por dios, eres un hipócrita* You think you can always just do a fucking mess and expect shit just fix itself over time."

"Shut up."

"No. Fuck you, and fuck you very much. What did you expected? A welcome? Mariachis and a whole fucking celebration since you were finally owing up the consequences for what you did?. You left me, Miguel."

Your voice couldn't help but crack on his name.

"You left me when I needed you the most!."

"I was scared!" He roared, his fangs poking out from his mouth but you pushed him away, anger surpassed your fear, truly not thinking a rational approach.

"You think I wasn't?! I had just lost our baby. Our kid..." Miguel's eyes softened in pain and looked at you, "I didn't get to meet them, I didn't get to experience what was to be a mother, I didn't get to hold them for fucks sake!" Your voice finally breaking, both angry and anguished.

"But you didn't care. You just wanted to be a father so bad that..." He tried to reach for your hand, but slapped it away, rejecting him instantly as your eyes settled in the screen behind him, replaying the memories of himself with his daughter from another universe.

"You went to another fucking dimension to play house with someone else's family as I was trying to hold it all together over here! Cleaning up your mess! And guess what? It was never enough for you. I was never enough for you." Your voice had raised, yet it was crumbling as the knot in your throat grew tighter.

"That's not-" He growled but sighed

"I lost her too. And when I came back, everything was gone. Incluyéndote."

"You really though that I would wait for you after you ran away? You can't have or do both things. A person can only do so much, yet you made me feel so worthless."

"Your miscarriage was a cannon event. It was meant to happen. That's why I... ran away. I couldn't..." His voice trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"And you never told me?"

"I fucking didn't know, coño. You think I'd sit there and wait for shit to happen!?" He gestured as he spoke, "I could've risked everything to save our kid, but I knew about it too late! But I know that saying sorry won't change anything."

You held your breath and sat on a chair. Rubbing your face in frustration. But the feeling of his hand was almost electric as he took your hand to admire the pretty ring that adorned your finger.

He let your hand go.

" How long you've been married?"

"Five years." His frame slumped slightly

"Is he the reason you're killing your powers with inhibitors?"

"Yes and no. They hide your... tingling presence from others, ."

"That's why I never found you."

"I didn't want to be found. But now that you did-"

"He knows, right? About your-"

"He does. And he doesn't care."

"Why taking them, then?"

"Can't get pregnant if my blood levels show high toxicity thanks to the spider DNA. I... We, uh, we want a family."

He closed his eyes as he processed your words. He could picture you with a round belly, the weirdest cravings at the weirdest hours, just like the first months you had shared together. And now he had to watch all what his heart once desired, through the eyes of someone else.

"Just let me go, Miguel. I need to go back home."

"To him, you'd mean."

"Yes."

"LYLA" His voice echoed through the room as the AI appeared, her face was evidently on distress, as if she had heard everything but not on purpose.

"Yes?"

" Scort her out, tell Jess to take her home."

"Right away."

You stood and exhaled deeply.

"You'll be a great mother" His voice stopped you. It was soft yet, the resentment behind it, wasn't concealed as good as he thought.

"Thanks. You... seemed a wonderful dad."  He looked your way, the frowning face so ever present, but it melted for a second .

"If you ever need-"

"We'll be fine. I've got this." His eyes seized you one final time, before casting them away from your form, and focused on the screens behind him. The AI guiding you through the building, neither of you looking back.

----------

Sorry if this feels odd or weird. I felt the urge to contribute to the bandwagon of our beloved Miguel ❤️✨

___

Por dios, eres un hipócrita*  - My God you are such a hypocrite.

Incluyéndote*- Including you.

coño* - Latin American Spanish slang for "Fuck"

[arecaceae175]

Gratitude Part 1: Wild

Summary: Eight times Sky receives a gratitude crystal from the chain plus one time he gives some away

WELCOME this is inspired by this post chain by @linkvcr and @somer-writes! I'm going to post each section on tumblr until they're all done, then I'll combine (and edit lol) them for AO3 :D

This one is based on and uses some dialogue directly from the woodcarver comic by @linkeduniverse

Part 2. ART!

Wind blew lazily through the trees, rustling the leaves pleasantly. One fell and floated down onto Sky’s lap. He brushed it away and it fell next to the pile of wood chips from his latest carving. He was essentially finished; even the decorations were done. He was chipping away at any imperfections he could find– and fixing any more he created– to keep his hands busy.

A bird chirped in the distance. Sky eagerly looked up and followed its path over the forest. It was so cool. Sky racked his brain for a word to describe how incredible the bird was, but couldn’t come up with anything more eloquent. He laughed softly to himself and turned his attention back to his carving. 

“What are you laughing at, birdbrain?” Legend asked. Sky smiled at the nickname. 

“True to my name, I was watching a bird. It was cool,” Sky said. 

“Of course you were,” Legend said, as his eyes roamed the skies to find the bird himself. Sky smirked. 

“Food’s ready!” Wild called. 

“Perfect timing!” Sky said. He blew a breath over the spoon to knock off the loose shavings, then wiped it down with a cloth. It was perfectly smooth.

Sky hopped to his feet and walked over to the group with the spoon hidden behind his back.

“Okay, so it’s a light meal today, since we had that amazing soup earlier. Rice and vegetables over here, and then there’s some meat if you want. Cucco in that bowl and deer in that bowl. But I put some vegetables with protein in, so you’ll be fine without those,” Wild explained, pointing to the bowls as he talked. “Oh, and no peppers.”

Sky felt a warm feeling in his chest. Wild put so much care into their meals and ensured they catered to everyone’s individual preferences. It wasn’t easy to make one meal that suited nine people from different backgrounds, but Wild made it work every time.

“Oh, I need a spoon for the rice. Um,” Wild turned to dig through his cooking supplies.

“How about this one?” Sky said. 

Wild turned around and his eyes widened in surprise as Sky held out the spoon. His mouth dropped open slightly as Sky pushed the spoon into his hands. 

“You made this?” Wild asked. 

“I did! For you,” Sky asked. “As a thank you for always making us such good food.”

“Wow!” Wild said. He held the spoon up to his face, closely inspecting the patterns. A spark of orange flickered to life above his head. It wasn’t quite a full crystal, but the sight made Sky smile warmly nonetheless.

“This is beautiful work,” Wild said. 

Sky beamed. “Thank you!” 

Wild’s face fell from its smile. Sky mirrored the expression and stepped closer. 

“What, what’s wrong? Do you not like it?” Sky asked. 

Wild frantically shook his head and his grip on the spoon tightened. “No, I love it! I’m just… what if I break it?”

“You probably will,” Sky said with a chuckle. Wild looked up at him with wide eyes full of worry.

“But that’s okay. It’s meant to be used. If you use it enough to wear it down, I’ll know I did a good job,” Sky said. 

“Are you sure?” Wild asked. 

“Promise,” Sky said. 

Above Wild’s head, the spark rapidly expanded into a full gratitude crystal. Sky watched it with awe as it floated over and into his chest, where its warmth spread throughout his body. Sky wiggled in happiness.

“Thank you, Sky. I love it,” Wild said. 

“You’re very welcome,” Sky said, his smile bright and wide. 

Next Part ->

EDIT 01/19/2024: THERE IS ART NOW!!!! This art by @linkvcr :DDDD

[taevbears]

To Be Loved - 05

Tale as old as time

⤑ pairing: namjoon x reader ⤑ genre: hybrid au, romance, hurt/comfort ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 7.7k ⤑ warnings: our favorite asshole, kangdae, is in this chapter SO: violence, threats against reader and the tannies, verbal/emotional abuse, detailed descriptions of fighting and gore, some angst, minor character deaths ⤑ note: and with this, to be love is concluded! thank you everyone for reading and for all the love this story has received. i hope this last chapter meets your expectations. and lol, did you guys guess correctly on what kind of hybrid namjoon is?

Chapters 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 (End)

It was a clear and starry night.

The giddiness between you and the hybrids as the evening’s plans come together. A look of awe on your face when you see yourself in the mirror, dressed in a yellow ball gown, and think to yourself how you’ve never been more beautiful. Sparkling lights from the crystal chandeliers glow and romantic music softly plays in the background as Namjoon dances with you, and the way he looks at you tonight with such endeared warmth, you could only describe it as love.

Everything was perfect. A calm before the storm.

Ruined in the matter of seconds.

The shot that was fired was aimed at the ground, near Seokjin’s paws. A warning to you and the hybrids that they’re armed and not afraid to use their weapons. The wolf hybrid shifts into his human form, but his ears are pinned back against his head and his tail is between his legs as he backs away, startled but luckily unharmed. You stand between them and the group of vile men before you, including the man you’re supposed to marry.

“So, this is where you’ve been hiding.” Kangdae takes one look at you and bursts into mocking laughter. “What the hell are you wearing, babe? That’s not sexy at all!”

You feel your cheeks burn with humiliation. “What do you want, Kangdae? How did you even find me?”

“You were a pain in the ass to track down,” he mutters, shaking his head. “The whole town was worried about you, babe. My folks got everyone searching. Someone found your car in these woods, thought you were good as dead. And yet, here you are, gallivanting with these … abominations.”

“Shut up! Don’t talk to us like that!” Seokjin snaps. Two of Kangdae’s lackeys point their guns at him, ready to fire.

“Easy, pup. I’m having a conversation with my stupid woman.” He doesn’t divert his gaze away as he stares you down. A growl rumbles from Seokjin’s throat, but you step in front of him, shielding him and the other hybrids.

“Tell them to put the guns down,” you order tersely, trying not to look as frightened as you feel when you see the ends of the barrels being pointed at the hybrids. “I don’t want anything to do with you anymore, Kangdae. Just leave us alone.”

“Babe, I’m just here to talk. That’s all.” He raises his hands up and cracks a smile as if he has no intentions of hurting you. It feels condescending. “Just hear me out, and we’ll pretend we never saw them.”

“Whatever you have to say to her, you can say in front of us,” Namjoon speaks up as he stands by your side. The hand he presses against the small of your back gives you the tiniest bit of comfort, even if you feel it trembling with rage.

“I don’t think so, beast,” he quips, finally turning his gaze away from you to look at Namjoon. If he recognizes him, it doesn’t show on Kangdae’s face. He does, however, look intrigued with how close Namjoon stands to you. How protective he is over you. When Kangdae looks at you again, his smile is gone. “You and I talk. Alone. And no one gets hurt.”

Guns cock and more are aimed at the hybrids. Kangdae begins to count down.

“Okay! Okay!” you give in before the next number leaves his lips. You give Namjoon an apologetic look. It feels like this is all your fault. If you hadn’t stayed this long, if you had left when you were supposed to, maybe they’d never find this place.

The smug smirk dances on Kangdae’s lips again as he meets Namjoon’s gaze. It’s like that dark and stormy night all those years ago, when the two of them stood against each other on the stage. The arrogance that Kangdae had that day hasn’t diminished at all. In fact, it’s gotten even worse as he grabs your arm and yanks you closer to him, childishly possessive like you’re a pretty doll that Namjoon can’t have.

The hybrid’s rage is silent, but he clenches his jaw and scowls as he watches Kangdae pull you away, out of ear-shot for even the hybrids to eavesdrop. You look over your shoulder at him, helpless, scared. Not because of him, but of the human that has you in his grasp. The indigo in Namjoon’s eyes darkens and looks sharper, the black pupils thinner like slits. The air around his mouth as he exhales becomes visible like smoke.

You’ve never seen Namjoon look so angry.

When you and Kangdae are far enough, he eyes you again and gives you a sleazy smirk. “You know, for an old dress, it makes your tits look nice.”

“What do you want, Kangdae?” you repeat, exasperated, stepping away from him before he could think of touching you.

“To take you home, of course. My folks planned a nice ceremony for us, you know?” He moves closer to you, until your back hits the trunk of a tree. Then, he cages you in with his arms. Objectively, Kangdae is good-looking, especially up close like this, but his beauty is only skin-deep. All you see before you is a monster. “Then, you pulled your little stunt. So, what the fuck happened? Did you want to rebel? Did you think you’d get away? You’re usually so quiet and obedient.”

“Stop.” You pull Kangdae’s arms as he squeezes your cheeks together. 

“Stop,” he repeats in a whine, mocking you again. “It was never supposed to be serious between us. You were the prettiest girl in school. We looked so good together, but all you do is read and stay home. You can’t even talk to people without getting nervous. So, I thought maybe you’re just the girl I can bring home to my parents. Someone that makes me look good during social events and family parties. So that people can get off my fucking back about the actual fun girls I date. But it turns out, my folks really like you. Especially after you started working at our company. Not only are you beautiful. They said you’re smart and hardworking, too. They thought you’d be a good match for me, and even threatened to cut me off if I didn’t propose to you. They’ll write me off my inheritance if I don’t marry you. But you’re just a prudish, annoying bitch that got cold feet and ran away.”

The truth spills out. Every word confirms what you’ve already known about you and Kangdae. Hearing him tell you all of this to your face, however, makes you spite him even more. “I hate you. You never loved me.”

“No one would,” he sneers, pinning you harder against the tree and watching your feeble attempts to push him off. “Don’t you know what people say about you? How you’re a weird, little freak? The whole town is only nice to you because you’re dating me. Or have you forgotten? Is that why you’re hanging out with hybrids of all fucking things?”

“They’re not things, they’re—”

“Monsters,” he finishes for you. “I know, babe.”

“They’re not that either.”

Kangdae loudly laughs as if that’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “Let’s not speak nonsense, okay? Where is he?”

“Who?”

“The hybrid. The bunny,” he clarifies, and your eyes widen slightly when you realize he’s talking about Jungkook. “Tell me where you’re hiding him, and I’ll forgive you.”

Dread weighs heavily on your heart as you glance at the others he came with. You don’t recognize any of them, but they look more menacing than a pack of wolves. They’re not just here for you, but they’re after Jungkook as well. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t fuck with me, babe. I know you ran away with him.” His grip around you tightens. “Is he with those other hybrids? That guy from the fighting ring has been threatening me since you took off together. That bunny was his prized fighter. Didn’t you think he’d want him back?”

“Fuck you.” You’d never give him up. Jungkook is your friend.

He looks over his shoulder where his men continue to point their guns at the manor’s residents. The hybrids are looking at you. Even from this distance, you can feel their worried gazes. “That’s okay, though. I see a leopard, a bear, and a wolf among the other hybrids you’re hiding. I could make a lot of money selling them off.”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Kangdae.”

“Here’s the deal, princess,” Kangdae begins, his voice low and angry as he digs into his pocket for something. “People have been hounding me for six months straight. Either you be a good girl and marry me, and I’ll leave your hybrids alone. Once I get my inheritance, I’ll take you straight to the guy from the ring. You’ll explain why his prized fighter is still missing, and you better pray that it’s only money that he wants from you.”

Your stomach feels sick at the implication.

“Or, if you’re still going to be stubborn, I’ll send my men to raid the manor and capture every single hybrid you’re hiding in there. I’ll make you watch as my men and I use them for target practice.” There’s a wicked smile on his face as he unveils something you’d never thought you’d see again. The engagement ring you left behind. “The choice is yours, babe.”

A tense silence fills the air as Kangdae pulls you aside to talk. Namjoon doesn’t keep his eyes off you. His jaw is locked and his gaze is steady as you look back at him.

He’s never smelled fear on you before. Not like this. Not with him or his pack. At least, not since you first stepped into the manor. Even then, it was never to this degree.

You’re terrified of Kangdae.

And all Namjoon can do is stay where he is – between his pack and the guns pointed at them – and helplessly watch you become more distressed.

The conversation feels longer than it is. A soft, worried whine from Seokjin, a small hiss from Yoongi. Even Taehyung stops himself from anxiously pacing as he guards the door, keeping the other hybrids inside the manor out of sight.

As for Namjoon, he feels his self-control slipping.

Anger rises when Kangdae puts his hands on you. How he pins you against the tree. How he roughly grabs your face. You struggle against his hold, but Kangdae is bigger and stronger than you are. His body now blocks you from his view, but when Kangdae turns to look at where his men are holding them hostage, he meets Namjoon’s eyes. 

And he smirks.

“Careful, Namjoon,” Yoongi whispers, grounding him.

For a split second, the beast inside him almost takes form. It shows on his cracking skin and his glowing eyes, like a broken mask unveiling his true self. He covers his face with his hand, but his eyes are still glued on you.

If you’re to see him now – if you’re to see what he really looks like – you’ll hate him. 

When you and Kangdae return, he has his arm around you. There’s a look of haughty triumph on his face as he makes a show to kiss the top of your head. 

“Fifteen minutes,” he gives you before releasing you from his hold. It’s not much time at all, but you head straight to Namjoon.

“What’s going on?” he asks you, touching your arm. You still smell so distressed, it’s bitter and almost tannic from your usual warm, sweet scent.

“I’m going with them, Namjoon,” you tell him, your voice so quiet, it’s almost a whisper. Tears glisten in your eyes, and honestly, it makes Namjoon want to cry too.

“Wh-What are you saying? You can’t go with them,” Namjoon begins as waves of emotions hit him at once: anger, confusion, disbelief, hurt, sadness, yearning. “No. I won’t let them take you.”

“Please don’t make this harder for me. I made my choice.”

A glimmer catches his attention, and his eyes are drawn to the band around your finger. His heart breaks when he realizes it’s an engagement ring.

He… he feels like a fool. Of course, you couldn’t be his. Of course, you’d choose to be with someone else. Why would you ever love a beast like him?

“Thirteen minutes,” Kangdae loudly counts down from behind you, relishing the look on Namjoon's face.

And like that, you step away from him. Cold air escapes with your warmth, and he barely registers the thanks you give him for taking care of you all this time. Your voice feels like it’s underwater. His packmates are shocked and unhappy, their own feelings adding to the bitterness Namjoon could practically taste in the air.

He feels numb when you step in front of him again several minutes later, dressed in something more comfortable and with your duffle bag slung around your shoulder. It only occurs to him that he’s been crying when he glances up at you, his vision blurred by his tears.

There’s an apologetic look on your face. Words at the tip of your tongue that you can’t say to him. Truths that can’t be told. “Take care of Jungkook for me, okay?”

“You’re just letting her go?” Jimin berates, standing in the middle of Namjoon’s room in the west wing. It’s the only area in the mansion that hasn’t been fixed yet. A gaping hole on the side of the wall exposes the room to the dark clouds that cover the night sky whenever Namjoon is in a sour mood. “Why didn’t you try to stop her?”

“She’s already promised to someone else.” Namjoon’s voice is low and calm, almost matter-of-fact. But the scales on his face are cracking again. He’s able to control himself better at night, when the beast inside him is quiet and asleep, but after everything that’s happened, his emotions are all over the place.

For six months, Namjoon has been very careful to hide the monster he is. Afraid he’d scare you off if you know the truth. Afraid to show you any part of himself that doesn’t appear human. He’s been patient, yearning, glad to have you around but terrified for the inevitable day this would come.

The day you decide to leave.

Once Kangdae and his men got what they came for, they retreated. As if they never saw them, as promised.

It’s been hours since then. Namjoon, and the others return to the manor where Hoseok and Jimin anxiously question what had happened and where you’ve gone. 

“You know damn well as much as I do that she doesn’t love that man,” Jimin hisses, his black feathers ruffled with agitation. “You’re so happy with her, Namjoon. You’ve been lonely for so long, and you told me it was a miracle that you found each other again. Every night, you’ve been courting her. Every night, you two were getting closer. And now, you’re just letting her leave without a fight? What if she doesn’t come back?”

“It’s okay, Jimin. She made her decision.” Namjoon’s voice is still calm, still quiet, as if trying to be complacent. But his voice breaks as he admits, “I’ll miss her too.”

The swan hybrid falls silent. Fresh tears sting his eyes, terrified that you’ve abandoned them. After they’ve all gotten used to you being around. After they began to consider you and Jungkook a part of their pack.

Jimin knows it’s not Namjoon’s fault that you left. He knows it isn’t yours either. That if those men hadn’t found the manor, you’d still be with them. 

But as much as it pains him to question if you’ll ever come back to him, nothing could compare to how hurt Namjoon must be.

After all, you’re his mate. Namjoon wanted to finally tell you that tonight.

To love and to be loved in return.

If Namjoon could wish for anything, it would be that.

A single petal falls from a smeraldo flower Namjoon keeps in a vase. A beautiful flower that means an untold truth.

Jimin watches as it delicately lands on the table. It almost feels like watching sand in an hourglass. Every second that slips by seems emptier and emptier, and it makes him anxiously wonder if you’ll ever know how much Namjoon truly loves you.

Footsteps hurry toward the west wing, and Hoseok appears, out of breath. There’s urgency in his eyes as he looks at Namjoon and Jimin. “Those men! They’re back!”

“I thought they left,” Namjoon practically snarls. What more could they take from him?

Taehyung is with Hoseok. There’s a frown on his face as he says, “I don’t think they left at all. They just brought reinforcements.”

Namjoon’s eyes are ablaze. He’s barely in control of himself and it makes Jimin and the others eye each other nervously. He shoves past them, the scales on his skin becoming more apparent and glistening with the moonlight. “Find the others and stay inside!”

He storms out before he could hear their responses. The clear and starry sky now shrouded with dark clouds as a sudden storm picks up. Lightning flashes and Namjoon is gone, a menacing roar drowned by the rumble of thunder.

The three look at each other, unable to hide their worry. It’s been a long time since they’ve seen Namjoon like this, consumed by his anger and self-hatred. Where chaos and destruction mark his path, and the storms outside are strong enough to sweep everything away.

Seokjin and Yoongi join them, wearing similar expressions of concern. Jimin looks at his pack before him and realizes there’s one missing. “Where’s Jungkook?”

A bump in the road stirs you from sleep. In the back of the car like an arrested suspect, you must have dozed off. You’ve been crying the whole time. Tears stain your cheeks and the puffiness in your eyes and face are evident of that.

It’s just you and Kangdae in the white van. One, you’re certain, specifically designed for capturing hybrids.

The backdoors aren’t unlockable from the inside, and there are strong chains hooked against the sides and bottoms to keep the hybrid in place. A cage mesh separates you from the front seats of the car, keeping you contained like an animal.

The other men he was with must have taken separate vehicles, but you all seem to be going to the same place. Back to that small, provincial town.

Where everyone knows you as the odd, quiet, but beautiful girl who is incredibly lucky to be with someone as handsome and wealthy as Kangdae. Where you’re about to sign your life away to a loveless marriage with a terrible man. Where you could only hope that this is the right choice, and that nothing will harm the hybrids.

Emotional exhaustion still has its hold on your body. You hear Kangdae’s voice, but you could barely make out what he’s saying. He’s speaking so quietly, he must think you’re still asleep. Your eyes start to adjust to the darkness in the back of the van. There isn’t much to look at anyway. It’s empty except for your opened duffle bag and…

You nearly scream at the pair of big, doe-shaped eyes staring at you in the shadows. Before you could make a sound, he quickly covers your mouth with the palm of his hand and places a finger to his pouty lips, gesturing you to keep quiet.

“Jungkook? What the hell are you doing here?” you question, bewildered, when he finally lets you go. He must’ve snuck into your bag while you were in a rush to pack your things.

The bunny hybrid smiles so widely, his nose crinkles a little. “I couldn’t let you face the bad humans alone, can I?”

Conflicted between relief and upset upon seeing him, you’re touched that he’s here. Even if he’s supposed to be in the manor with everyone else. Before you could question it, he motions you to keep quiet again. One of his long ears is pressed against the divider as he crouches in Kangdae’s blindspot.

“It’s even better than that,” Kangdae continues, keeping his voice low as he talks to someone on the phone. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice that you aren’t alone in the back. His attention is focused on the road ahead. “There’s a house full of them.”

Your eyes widen when you realize Kangdae is talking about the hybrids.

You can’t make out the response on the other line, but you recognize the tone Kangdae is using. It’s the voice he uses whenever he makes a sales pitch. He describes the other hybrids one by one: how bigger Seokjin is compared to other wolf hybrids, the rarity of Yoongi’s leopard skin, the pros of Taehyung’s strength as a bear hybrid for intense work labor. Your stomach knots as he talks about how much profit he could make if he were to capture and sell them.

The more you listen, the sicker you feel. Whatever Kangdae is planning, it sounds like it will happen as soon as tonight, and you and Jungkook need to come up with something quickly if you want to warn the others in time.

“Kangdae,” you call out to him, back in the same position you woke up in as Jungkook shifts into a bunny and blends in the shadows. “I need to use the restroom.”

“Shit. I gotta go,” Kangdae mutters in annoyance before he hangs up the phone. “Hold it in, babe. We’ll be in the closest town soon.”

“I can’t,” you whine, wiggling around and squeezing your thighs together. “Kangdae, please. Can you pull over?”

He glares at you from the rearview mirror and curses, suddenly swerving. Tires screech in an abrupt halt that slams you forward against the cage. Luckily, you and Jungkook aren’t hurt as Kangdae rips the car door open and slams it shut. In his bunny form, you watch Jungkook dart toward the other end of the van. You catch your breath as the door opens and Kangdae grabs you. “You better make it fast or I’ll—”

Before he could finish, Jungkook shifts and jumps out at him. The sharp snap of his knuckles hitting Kangdae square in the face is the most satisfying sound you’ve ever heard. He instantly lets you go and yelps in pain, but Jungkook quickly pins him to the ground, throwing his legs around Kangdae’s torso, and uses his brute strength to keep him in a chokehold. “His keys!”

You snap out of it and yank the van’s keys from Kangdae’s jeans.

“Bitch!” he wheezes, choking a bit more as Jungkook’s hold on him tightens. His face looks like a mess. You’re pretty sure Jungkook broke his nose and blood drips freely onto the hybrid’s arm. 

You shut the back doors and jump to the driver’s seat. “Jungkook, come on!”

It’s only then that he lets Kangdae go. The bunny hybrid kicks him in the ribs for good measure, snapping that the kick was for calling you a bitch, and then quickly climbs onto the passenger seat beside you. 

Tires screech again as you turn the van around and floor it back to the road that you came from. You glance at the rearview mirror to see Kangdae still on the ground, but struggling to get back on his feet. You don’t see any of the other men around, but you’re sure it won’t be long until they’re on your trail.

You glance at Jungkook, who is rubbing his knuckles and taking deep breaths to let the adrenaline die down. His eyes are fixed on the road as he tells you, “I don’t think we lost too much time, but he told them where the manor is. We should hurry.”

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to remember the path you took all those months ago that led you to the manor. “You were amazing back there, you know?”

“I told you I’m strong,” Jungkook teases with a flex of his muscles. His smile falls as he admits, “I’m just glad that I was able to use it for something other than fighting other hybrids, you know?”

“You’ll never have to,” you promise as the van speeds along, reminiscent of how your adventure started. Back when you were so lost and scared, and not sure where to go. But now, you have direction. Now, you have a place to go to. “Let’s go home, Jungkook.”

What once was a clear and starry night becomes dark and stormy. Black clouds hang over the manor by the time you reach it, and rain pours as heavily as it did the night you first arrived. An old and forgotten manor, once peaceful and unassuming, now holds the aftermath of a perilous battle.

You and Jungkook step out of the van with caution. Blood is spilled on the ground. Grass is singed with ash and dying embers. Weapons have been dropped and shells of bullets discarded. Something tore through here, and you can only assume that the carcasses and severed limbs are the men that foolishly stayed behind.

Your stomach twists with worry and grief. Had Kangdae ordered his men to attack the hybrids as soon as you left? Are any of them hurt?

“We have to get inside,” you remind Jungkook. More men are coming, based on what you overheard Kangdae say. You need to warn them before it’s too late.

“Don’t give up!” a voice in the roughly distance exclaims. You and Jungkook immediately hide around the van, noticing a group of armed men by the front doors. “Break the doors open! I want those hybrids captured alive!”

Your heart sinks when you realize you might be too late.

Jungkook nudges you, grabbing your attention. He nods toward the side of the manor – that there still might be another entryway you can sneak into without alerting the men outside. Both of you jog toward the east side of the manor and see a window that you could climb into. Jungkook gives you a boost before he easily jumps in after you.

At the entryway, you see the hybrids have barricaded the doors. Taehyung in his bear form is leaning against the furniture, but you’re not sure how long he can keep holding them back. The others are on their guard, getting ready to attack. Everyone is there but one person.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

The hybrids snap their attention toward you when they hear your voice. Hoseok’s eyes widen in shock. “You came back?”

“I came home,” you correct as they return your smile. Taehyung grunts as he struggles to keep the barricade up. You grab the heaviest thing you could use as a weapon and signal for him and the others to hide.

The front doors slowly creak up with a loud, echoing groan. The intruders slowly enter, pushing aside the furniture piled up by the door. It feels haunted with how old and antique the style of the manor is, and although it seems empty, they can feel pairs of eyes watching them from the shadows.

Jimin drops something from above, startling the men, distracting them as the rest of you sneak in and attack. The fight is instant. In your hands is a heavy candelabra, and you swing it at the back of a man’s head. It disorients him, causing him to drop his gun, and you kick it out of reach. You then swing the candelabra into another man in front of you, nearly knocking him back into another person, and causing both of them to stumble on the ground.

The others around you are fairing just as well.

Taehyung’s ferocious roar is enough to scare some of them off. From above, Jimin snatches weapons out of their hands and tosses them where they can’t reach. Hoseok uses his antlers to ram into multiple people, and Yoongi’s agility makes it difficult for anyone to catch him. Seokjin’s bite is powerful as he chases them out of the manor, and Jungkook, who is trained in hand-to-hand combat, uses his skills to knock them down before they could hurt anyone from the pack.

The battle spills outside. Most of the intruders have given up and fled, vowing to never return when they realize the price of the hybrids aren’t worth their lives. They slip on the wet mud mixed with blood and scream in horror when they finally see the carnage and are reminded of what their fates could be. The hybrids around you are breathing hard from exertion, worn from battle but otherwise unhurt.

It’s almost over. Only a few stragglers are left, but the victory is yours. The manor is safe for another day, but you haven’t seen Namjoon yet.

“He’s in the west wing,” Yoongi tells you as you eye the forbidden area. He grabs the collar of a random man and starts to drag him away. “We got things covered here. You should go to him.”

Adrenaline still pumps in your veins, but you nod your head, enter the manor, and climb up the stairs to see him. At first glance, the westside of the manor seems identical to the eastside. However, the further you go, the darker and desolate it becomes.

Time always seems at a standstill within the manor. The furniture is old, the floorboards creak, the wallpaper is outdated, but it isn’t until you enter the west wing when you truly see the effects of time and abandonment. White sheets cover the furniture, cracks and holes on the walls, old paintings are weathered and an armor suit with a sword is rusted.

At the end of the long hallway is a large doorway that’s cracked open. Rain spills from the exposed area, further damaging the soaked floorboards. The cold wind makes you shiver as you slowly cross the threshold. It looks like you’re in the master bedroom. A large bed, antique furniture, a vase with a smeraldo flower, but more notably, by the tall windows, is Namjoon.

His clothes are torn, as if he’s been clutching them so tightly, they’ve ripped. You see that he’s breathing heavily, gasping for air, curling into himself as if he’s in pain. Your heart suddenly yearns for him – wanting to comfort him, wanting to kiss his burdens away – as you take a step forward and carefully call out his name. “Namjoon?”

When he looks at you, he’s almost unrecognizable. Half-shifted to whatever hybrid he is. The smoothness of his sun-kissed skin has turned into scales that glimmer slightly in the moonlight. His fingernails have grown to long claws, painting his entire hand black and shaping it like a talon. Horns grow out of his head, bending back. Blood covers his mouth and clothes, and you can’t tell if it’s his blood or not. The whites of his eyes are gone, but they still look at you with the same surprise, gentleness, and worry that the Namjoon you know would always have.

“What are you doing here?” he questions, his voice rough with a low growl. He tries to hide from you, curling up into a tight ball, clearly ashamed of his appearance. It looks like he’s trying to fully shift back into a human, but isn’t able to. “Don’t look at me. I won’t– I can’t hold it back!”

But you don’t care. You take another step forward. “Namjoon, I–”

Out of nowhere, someone grabs you by your hair and yanks you back. A yelp of pain escapes your lips as one of the intruders, who followed you through the west wing, hisses down your neck. “Bitch. Did you think you’d get away from me?”

“Kangdae!” you cry out, trying to pry his fingers off you, but he just pulls you harder, forcing you down on your knees.

Tears prick your eyes as he starts to drag you by your hair, and you scream for him to stop. To let you go. You don’t want anything to do with this man. You don’t want a future with him. You never wanted one to begin with.

He only manages to pull you out of the master bedroom when a deep rumble for the shadows comes from within. The ground shakes and bits of debris fall from the ceiling. Kangdae’s grip tightens around you, this time, out of fear.

In the shadows, a pair of angry, glowing indigo eyes glare at him. Lightning flashes, giving a glimpse of a monster in its depths.

Then, since the night you first arrived at the mansion, you hear it. The same sound that spooked Jungkook all those months ago. The sound of an ungodly roar.

Namjoon never wanted you to see him like this.

A pitifully lonely, ugly, beastly creature like him doesn’t deserve to even be looked at by someone as beautiful and precious as you. He’s seen the terror in the eyes of everyone who’s witnessed this form, even from his own pack mates. He can’t bear the thought of scaring you, but Namjoon is selfish. Because he can’t bear the thought of losing you either.

Perhaps it's fate that drew him to participate in that underground battle all those years ago. His hatred and anger for himself and for the world could be catalyzed in forms of words and poetry as a writer, as a rapper. He wanted to at least try.

Namjoon noticed you right away among the crowd. You were breathtaking then, and even more so now. Namjoon doesn’t know much about love. He doesn’t have much for himself, let alone for others. But something akin to it – something warm, something right – he felt it that night. He knew you were someone special to him before he even knew your name.

The second time, after thinking about you nonstop, it’s like you manifested for him. Again, he saw you in the crowd, looking up at him with intrigue. Then, to his horror, his disguise falls off and the only sign of him being a hybrid is unveiled to the room. He remembers the shock, the disgust, the fear. He can smell it on their skins, but among all that is your sweet one. 

You aren’t afraid when you approach him and hand back his sunglasses. There’s a gentle kindness in your voice when you speak to him. As you look him in the eyes, you don’t flinch from fear or nerves. You treat him like he’s human.

The interaction is too brief, but he’s never forgotten it.

Perhaps it’s fate that drew you to the manor half a year ago. He never thought he’d see you again. He’s mourned that idea more times than he’d like to admit: you were the girl who got away, a girl who he’d be too afraid to show his true self to anyway, a girl he could love but would never love him back in return. 

As the poor weather matches his uneasy heart, he still asks you every night to spend time with him, expecting that you’d refuse and turn him down. But you never did. Even if he shows you boring things like his plants or his books, you still look at them with fascination because those boring things mean a lot to him.

Like waves of the ocean meeting the shore, you ebb away his loneliness and sorrows. The raging storm inside him subsides, and he feels content with just your presence. It makes him happy, seeing you bond with his packmates. It makes him happy, hearing your laughter and listening to you talk about your day. It makes him happy when you decide to stay.

Namjoon is already upset that the intruders have taken you from him, invaded his home, and threatened his pack. The anger and self-hatred rolls back like a tsunami, crashing into him so viciously that he feels the beast taking over, consuming him. Namjoon is so scared of losing that control he’s maintained while you were here, but now, it’s like he can’t think. He can’t breathe.

Someone is hurting his mate.

It’s all he thinks about as the manor rumbles around him and he fully shifts before your eyes. In the piercing darkness, he glares at the man who has his hand on you. He watches as he falls down and scrambles back, eyes shaking but never looking away as Namjoon steps closer into the light, revealing his monstrous form.

Namjoon isn’t just one hybrid. He’s several of them at once: nose of a pig, iridescent blue scales of a reptile, tail and long whiskers of a carp, long body of a serpent, talons of a falcon, beard of a goat. An ancient creature that only exists in stories and legends.

Namjoon is a dragon.

Kangdae screams as the dragon roars at him. He scrambles backwards on the ground, unable to tear his eyes away from the monster in the shadows. Namjoon lunges after him but isn’t able to fit through the doorway. With a snarl, he exits from the exposed hole in the corner of the room.

You hear Namjoon on the rooftop, trying to find Kangdae. The two of you are startled when a window breaks in, glass shattering on the floor, followed by his frustrated grunts when he still can’t reach him.

You’re still in shock, but Kangdae is quick to recover. His nose is broken from earlier and dried blood stains his shirt and skin. But in the backpocket of his jeans is a gun.

 “Kangdae, stop. Don’t hurt him.”

“He’s a monster, babe,” he reminds you coldly. “One that will make me so rich and famous when I capture it. Imagine, a dragon hybrid under my command.”

“As if he’d listen to you!” Jungkook must’ve hit him harder than you thought. He’s insane to go after Namjoon like this.

“No,” he agrees, voice low like a growl as he eyes you. “But he’ll listen to you.”

With his gun drawn, he grabs you and drags you back into the master bedroom, near the exposed opening. Cold rain continues to pour down, drenching both of you. Vines and smeraldo flowers cover a lattice panel against the wall, and Kangdae barks at you to climb it. You’re trembling from both the fear and the cold as you glance down, hand shaking as you grasp the thin, wet wood. 

One slip, and it’s over.

Kangdae nearly shoves you off the ledge, demanding you to climb. Slowly, carefully, you get to the roof of the manor with Kangdae right behind you. Below, you hear the other hybrids call out to you. It’s hard to see from the storm, but Kangdae waves his gun around and fires it at random. You scream at the sound, clutching the wood so tightly as you shut your eyes. Thankfully, it doesn’t sound like he hit anyone, but you practically scramble the rest of the way when he snaps at you to move.

Thunder rumbles and lightning flashes as you finally reach the top. And it’s only then that you’re able to get a good glimpse of Namjoon’s hybrid form.

He looks nothing like any creature you’ve seen before. His scales are white-blue, shining the same way the smeraldo flowers do with the heavy rain. His body is incredibly long like a serpent, with long talons on his feet and claws. He looks intimidating, but as you look into his eyes, you can see that it’s so clearly Namjoon.

You could never forget how beautiful his eyes are.

“Nam—” you begin to call out, but Kangdae covers your mouth with one hand. The other holds a gun at the dragon.

“What’s the matter, beast? Are you in love with her?” he taunts, cackling sinisterly at the angry fire in the hybrid’s eyes. “Do you honestly think she’d want you, when she has someone like me?”

But Kangdae couldn’t be more wrong.

You struggle in his hold again, elbowing him off you, yanking his hand away from your mouth. “Don’t believe him, Namjoon! I’ll never love him!”

“Shut up, babe! Or I’ll make you regret it!”

“It’s you, Namjoon! You’re the one I love!”

You see the dragon’s eyes widen at your confession.

“I said shut the fuck up!” Kangdae shouts, trying to grab you again, but you manage to slip out of his hold, nearly falling forward as you scramble away from him. Namjoon stands over you protectively once you’re close enough, roaring so loudly it makes the whole manor tremble.

Kangdae nearly loses his balance too, almost slipping off the edge. He aims his gun at Namjoon and fires, but the bullets do little to harm him. Namjoon lunges to bite him, but Kangdae shoots again at his face. This time, it makes him flinch and recoil in pain.

You scream when you see Namjoon is hurt, just as the other hybrids catch up to you guys. Kangdae comes toward you again, his hand reaching to grab you once more. But you’ve had enough.

He threatens to make your life miserable, like he always does. Because he’s always been the man that never gets rejected. That always gets his way. 

And you’re so sick and tired of it.

Every single day with him has been a living hell.

“Fuck you!” you curse, shoving him as hard as you can. He stumbles toward the ledge. It’s raining so hard, you can barely see. The roof is slippery. Even you start to lose your balance until Jungkook comes up and holds you steady. As Kangdae starts to fall back, you barely notice that he’s pointing his gun right at you.

But Namjoon does. His roar shakes the entire manor, causing Kangdae to fall off the ledge before he could fire his gun.

It feels like everything is slowed-down. You’re thankful Jungkook turns your head away, cradling you to his chest so you don’t have to see. That he covers your ears as the heavy rain drowns out Kangdae’s final scream. You’re thankful the rain hides your tears as you try to process what just happened.

You feel shocked. You feel sad how it came to this. Relieved that it’s over. Scared, even.

But not as scared as Namjoon.

The dragon hybrid tries to hide away from you again, curling up in himself like a tight ball some meters away. If you hadn’t thought he was a monster before, surely you do now. That seems to be what he and the other hybrids are thinking because, after a while, you hear Taehyung quietly plead, “Please don’t be afraid of him.”

“He looks like one now, but he’s not a monster,” Hoseok adds as you finally look at where Namjoon is. 

“I know,” you reply softly. Of course they’re not. None of them are. Joy lights up on their faces as you move out of Jungkook’s hold, careful not to trip as you head toward the cowering beast. Up close, Namjoon looks ethereal. Carefully, you place your hand on his iridescent scales, rubbing it gently, petting him like you would Jungkook. You feel him tense beneath your fingertips before he turns his head to look at you – cautious, confused, maybe a bit hopeful. You smile at him, looking him in the eyes. “You’re so pretty, Namjoon.”

The rain begins to stop. Cold scales are replaced with warm skin as he shifts back to his human form. His large hand cups the side of your face as he looks into your eyes. You watch waves of emotion soar through him at once as he asks, “Did you mean what you said? Do you love me?”

“I do–” He barely lets you answer before he kisses you.

Deep in the woods, in an area that humans haven’t come across in many years, lies an old, abandoned manor. Harboring inside are neither men nor animals, but outcasts who have been shunned for their appearances. Grotesque mutations and behaviors deemed unfavorable to a society that treats them so cruelly.

Until, one day, you come along.

Beautiful as you are kind, but in some ways, you’re a bit of an outcast yourself. You never felt like you belonged in that small, provincial town. Burdened by expectations of keeping appearances to what others saw fit.

Perhaps that’s why you could never be afraid of them. You relate to the hybrids more than you had any other human.

“Ah,” Yoongi complains, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just replaced these floor tiles a month ago.”

“Sorry, hyung,” Namjoon apologizes sheepishly. “I’ll help you fix the mess.”

“Don’t bother,” he tells him, though he eyes Jimin and the others for an unspoken plea for help. One that Jimin pretends to not see as he helps you sweep up the debris. The leopard gives you a pointed glance and says, “Keep him distracted before he breaks anything else, okay?”

“Sure, Yoongi.” You look over at Namjoon, grinning to yourself at how flustered he looks at the request. And how easily you agreed to it.

Last night took a toll on everyone. You’re not sure what the hybrids did with Kangdae’s body, and honestly, you don’t want to ask. Whether they buried him in a shallow grave or left him to the wolves, it doesn’t matter to you anymore.

The westside looks more deteriorated than before Namjoon’s transformation, and all of you ended up staying in the east wing with what little sleep you could manage. The other hybrids piled together in Jungkook’s room while Namjoon stayed in yours.

And it’s between soft kisses and scenting that he tells you the one truth that was left untold. That you’re his mate.

To be loved and to be loved in return. It’s a new and unfamiliar feeling to you. It’s the same for Namjoon as well. That warm and precious feeling that novels you’ve read often retell, you’re willing to know it all with him.

Your hand slips into Namjoon’s, drawing his attention. There’s a fondness in his eyes when you don’t shy away from him, despite knowing what he is. His eyes linger at your hands for a moment, his gaze already telling you that he loves you before he even speaks the words. And you meet his beautiful eyes with a teasing glint in yours.

“Namjoon, would you like to spend the evening with me?”

Because the greatest thing you’ll ever learn is to love and to be loved in return.

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Previous | Masterlist 

[b0r3dtod3ath]

hi! could i req lando x old money!reader blurb? maybe like meeting her parents, or going to her father’s annual christmas gala together, i dunno..

thanks!!

A/N: Hii! Omg I love this idea. Actually it popped up in my brain last summer but I never really wrote it so big thanks for requesting! Let me know if any of you are interested in a part two!

Word count: ~1.8k

Saint Tropez - one of the most popular places in French Riviera. Known for its beautiful weather, sun-kissed beaches and picturesque landscape. Every summer Y/N's family would spend at least a month there. Cruising on a yacht and resting in a mansion could get quite boring when done alone so last summer Y/N's parents invited the Norisses. The two families had been friends since the early 2000s, famously attending many high-society galas and events. Their kids used to know each other but haven't met in a long time due to their hectic lives. Lando would be a bit ashamed to admit but he was excited to spend his summer break there. Being with his parents made him feel like a teenager again. Not only that but also the fact that he couldn't wait to meet Y/N. He had heard about her from his sisters but in fact, has little to no memories of her.

As the families met at the dock, the yacht swaying in the background, the two couples hugged and laughed leaving the young ones to awkwardly greet each other. Y/N, taking off her sunglasses that protected her eyes from the sun reflecting in the blue water, approached with a subtle smile that held a hint of curiosity. She extended her hand, a gesture in a formal but warm manner. "Lando, isn't it?" her melodic voice hit her companion's ears. Lando, with his easy charm and green-blue eyes that would make most of the ladies lose their minds, clasped her hand in a firm yet gentle handshake. "That's right. A pleasure to finally meet you." His words were accompanied by a genuine smile, a sigh of relief.

The first evening brought the families together for a two-family dinner on the yacht's deck. The air was infused with the scent of sea salt and the warm sun was just to set. The table, covered with crystal and silverware, glowed in the soft light of candles. Y/N and Lando found themselves seated next to each other, their parents subtly orchestrating the arrangement. At first, they didn't talk to each other much - focusing mainly on the food and wine while also encouraging their parents to tell some stories from when they were young. The two of them exchanged glances and smiles still waiting for the other one to make the first move. After the last course, as the dessert and coffee reached its end, Lando found a moment to break away. Leaning towards Y/N, he suggested, "Would you care for a stroll around the yacht? The night is too beautiful to be just sitting here.". With a subtle spark in her eyes, Y/N agreed. The two of them excused themselves as they slipped away from their parents.

Under the moonlit sky, Y/N and Lando strolled along the yacht's deck, the soft glow of the ship's lights casting a warm ambience. The Mediterranean breeze whispered through the night, and the distant sound of the waves provided a soothing backdrop to their conversation. They paused at the railing, the yacht gently rocking beneath them. Y/N leaned on the side, her eyes fixed on the horizon. Lando joined her, the moon casting a silvery glow on his face. As the conversation flowed, they peeled away the layers of their lives, revealing dreams and aspirations. They went from talking about Lando's work to more deep, secret thoughts and feelings. Y/N wanted to avoid the Formula One subject, she knew who he was but didn't want him to think that it was a category she put him in. She spoke about her love for literature, and although Lando didn't have much to say in this field he was more than happy to listen. He found himself getting lost in her beauty as she shared about her passion. The night held an intimacy, a shared exploration of vulnerabilities. Y/N, confessed her love for the quiet moments, the beauty found in simplicity. It was surprising to her when Lando agreed with her "I know I'm rather a fast-paced life guy but I feel like my lifestyle allows me to appreciate moments like this even more". Y/N finally looked up from the shiny waves crashing to the side of the boat to see the man next to her looking at her with admiration. They held eye contact and smiled in silence, the chillness of a summer night ignored. That night they both felt a connection forming between them.

A few days later, as no clouds hung over St. Tropez, Y/N found herself once again on the terrace. Immersed in the embrace of a plush chair, she was captivated by the ending of one of the books she found on a bookshelf. Lando, drawn to the lovely scene, approached with a warm smile. "Mind if I sit here with you?" he asked. "Of course, Lan. Please, join me," Y/N responded, gesturing to the empty chair beside her. As he settled into his chair, warm sunlight washed both of their bodies. Y/N, bookmarking her page, looked up with a soft smile. "Have you read 'The Great Gatsby' before?" Lando shook his head, "No, but I've heard it's a classic. What's it about?". Y/N went on trying not to say too much and Lando listened, captivated by the vivid imagery painted by her descriptions. After a comfortable pause, the girl looked into her companion's eyes "You know, they turned this into a movie. How about we watch it together later?" Lando's grin widened at this idea, "That sounds fantastic. I'd love to.". "Great, meet me in my room at 9pm, I will figure out some snacks." she said, got up and left him alone.

Lando found himself standing outside Y/N's bedroom door at 9 sharp. The air was filled with anticipation as he raised his hand to knock. A soft sound of footsteps and the clinking of plates hinted at Y/N's preparations within. Y/N opened the door, her eyes sparkling with warmth. "Right on time. Come on in," she welcomed. The aroma of the room was very comforting, Lando couldn't explain it but it reminded him of Y/N a lot. He stepped into the dimly lit space, the flickering light from scented candles creating a cozy ambience. The room was decorated with touches of luxury, reflecting the social status of the family. Y/N, wearing comfortable yet stylish pyjamas, gestured towards the plush seating area she had arranged. "Make yourself at home. The movie is all set up," she said, her enthusiasm evident. As they settled in, the glow from the movie screen bathed the room in a soft luminescence. The cinematic adaptation of "The Great Gatsby" unfolded. Y/N and Lando shared the experience, their thoughts and emotions reflected in the glow of the screen. Throughout the movie, their laughter and shared comments added a layer of connection to the evening. The subtle tension between Gatsby and Daisy echoed in the room, mirroring the unspoken bond developing between Y/N and Lando. As the credits rolled, Y/N turned to Lando with a satisfied smile. "What did you think?" she asked, her eyes searching for his reaction. Lando, his gaze lingering on Y/N, grinned. "It was incredible.". To be honest, he didn't remember half of the movie as a beautiful person next to him captivated his attention. Y/N mirrored his smile. After a pause, Lando asked, "Do you think Gatsby's love for Daisy was genuine, or just an illusion he created?". Y/n leaned back, thinking about the question. "It's a bit of both, I think. Gatsby's love was genuine, but the illusions he created were born out of his desperation to recapture a past that had slipped away." Their discussion flowed seamlessly, weaving through literary analysis and personal interpretations. Deep eye contact was comforting and neither of them wanted to end it. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Maybe we can make this a tradition. You should pick the next movie" she suggested, her eyes holding a promise of more shared movie nights.

And the days passed just like that. On the last night, as the clock struck midnight, the yacht sailed under a blanket of stars, the moon casting its silver glow on the deck. Lando, overwhelmed with his thoughts, wandered outside. The night air was infused with a sense of bittersweet anticipation. There, on the deck, he found Y/N, a alone figure under the dark sky. The distant sound of waves protected them from the silence. Y/N sat in contemplation, a cigarette in hand, the soft moonlight illuminating her features. "Mind if I join you?" Lando's voice cut through the serenity, and Y/N looked up, a small laugh escaped her lips as she retrospected on one of their first interactions. She allowed him to, the smoke from her cigarette to twist into the air. Lando sensed a subtle shift in Y/N's demeanour, a quiet sadness that hung in the air like the sea mist. "You seem a bit distant tonight," he remarked, his eyes tried to focus on the horizon but seemed to be too curious of her. Y/N took a drag of her cigarette, exhaling slowly. "I guess I've been thinking about tomorrow," she confessed, her eyes didn't even dare to look at him as it would cause even more pain. Lando nodded, a shared understanding passing between them. The unspoken bond they had formed over the past weeks had transformed the usually boring yacht trip into a place of shared laughter, quiet conversations, and stolen glances, making both of them feel like stupid teenagers who would sneak around behind their parents' backs. The impending departure, however, indicated an end to this state. "I'll miss this," Y/N admitted, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken sentiments. "I don't want this to end just because the trip does," Lando confessed, his voice steady. "Maybe we can explore what this could be beyond St. Tropez. I'd love the chance to continue getting to know you, to see where this could go." Sea, once the witness of shared stories and vulnerability, now observed the promise of possibilities.

Weeks passed since Lando and Y/N parted ways. Mornings felt different for Lando, mainly due to the lack of two things: sun and Y/N. He often catches himself wondering what Y/N could be doing at this very moment. Yes, he could just open Instagram and DM her but he felt like he needed to do something more refined. Although they got to know each other pretty well, he didn't want her to think that he was just a cocky, young fuckboy who wants nothing more than just a body. He had to show her that he truly cared about her. Then, one morning, a letter arrived. The envelope was outstanding, decorated with intricate patterns and sealed with a wax emblem. Lando's heart quickened as he recognized Y/N's handwriting, the anticipation building with each passing moment. As he carefully opened the envelope, Lando realized that their story was far from over. Whatever that envelope contained held the promise of a new beginning, a chance to reignite the spark that had ignited in the hot, summer days. With trembling hands, he opened the letter, his heart racing with anticipation.

my masterlist

here's a fic i wrote last summer that reminds me of this scenario

feb 5 2024

[xxx-wounded-angel-xxx]

Tear you appart - Felix Volturi x reader

Felix Volturi x fem! reader - contains smut

3456 words

content warning : swearing, darker and wilder than my usual Felix, possessive Felix, size difference (both him and reader like it) - Smut ahead ! please no judgment, this is the first time I'm writing some I tried my best I feel so embarrassed 😅 Stop at the divider if you don't want the smutty part that contains : dirty talk, voice kink, size kink, penetration, virgin reader (she's an adult in her 20's !), praise kink

Taglist : @agirllovespancakes <3

At first, you weren’t sure what to make of your mate. First, Felix was big. Like…two meters tall and really muscular. Like wow. And second, he… was busy. Like very busy, which you could comprehend since he was one of the highest ranked guards of the Volturi Coven. And the executioner… that's it you had said it. His job was to brutally kill people, and you did not fully know what to make of him because of that.

He was kind to you of course. But you could barely see him. He had a very important place in the coven after all, it would be mean to hold it against him, he couldn’t help it after all. But it was making it harder for you to understand him, how could you get to know him better if he wasn’t there with you?

Ever since you were staying with the Volturi after finding out that you were Felix’s soulmate, your existence had gotten kind of lonely. The current secretary would go shopping with you if you needed something but you were mostly staying in your quarters that were adjacent to Felix’s. So, you decided to spend the time by decorating as much as you could your quarters to your own taste.

As a goth, you took advantage of the Halloween season to buy home decor. Artificial black roses, deep red and purple ones, black lace curtains, gothic prints you paired with vintage looking frames Heidi found for you in an abandoned room… You kept the walls white but painted the furniture black. Lots of bookshelves were acquired to hold your book collection, CDs and DVDs, Felix had made sure you had a good TV and even better stereo when you said you basically lived with music. Anne Stokes and Victoria Frances’ art hung all over your walls, nemesis now dark fairy figures and cult cuties shelved neatly above your desk, nightmare before Christmas plushies and figures scattered all around your quarters with the occasional Hello Kitty and Kuromi: it was starting to look like home.

When December came by you bought red velvet curtains, and red crystal beads. A lot of them. Surprisingly, you were now finding every week rose bouquet, that you would put to dry and keep in elegant vases. You were sure they were from Felix, even if he never mentioned it the few times the two of you had met in November.

You were working on the canopy of the bed, after installing the black lace curtains and strings of white pearls that were easy to find as Christmas tree ornament, you were making garlands of red crystal beads that would reflect the light all around your bed canopy. Attaching bead after bead, you were disrupted by Felix. You looked at him, surprised as you saw him sit beside you on the black silk sheets of your bed.

“Good evening my darling mate”

This evening, you finally got to spend time with your mate. He apologized for his lack of presence beside you, the coven had been exceptionally busy and he had not been able to give you the time you deserved. But now, he was here, and could finally take care of you, his mate, properly.

You talked for hours that night, She Wants Revenge playing low in the background as you finally got to know each other.

But no matter how interesting this all was, you were getting tired. Felix noticed your yawn, and with a smile put you to bed, tucking you in and gently kissed your forehead goodnight.

Your Felix held his promise. Week after week you got to know the other better. Going from strangers to friends… to more. After a few months you realized that Felix wasn’t a friend anymore. No, he was more. You wanted him to be more. But it wasn’t easy. He was your soulmate! It was supposed to be easy! But it wasn’t. At all.

Spring came and left, and so did summer. It was the middle of autumn, and you still did not know how to tell your soulmate you liked him. How could you? How could a simple human compare to a vampire? He had not turned you yet, it seemed that he quite enjoyed your human habits for now. Maybe he liked your softness, the warmth of your skin or the color of your eyes? But that did not resolve your problem. How could you tell him when you had never done this before? You were in your twenties and not had your fist kiss yet!

You had started a diary to keep your memories, express your feelings and your thoughts. And the most recent entries were all about him. About Felix, the gleam in his eyes, the way his skin shone brightly under the sunlight, how hot you had found the glimpses of his toned and muscular body you had been able to see, the way his thunderous laugh made your heart smile… How… You love him. That’s it, you had admitted it fully: you loved him. It was written black on white in your diary. Your heart was in his hands. You did not need a prayer when you had his name.

That was the last line you wrote, leaving your diary on your bed as you left your bedroom to take a relaxing bath before going to bed in your favorite attire.

You came out of the bathroom, all clean and fresh, humming some She Wants Revenge song, when you froze. Felix. Felix was sitting on your bed. Felix was sitting on your bed holding your diary. Felix was reading your diary where you very explicitly wrote how much you loved him. Fuck.

 When Felix looked at you, you felt like you could die from embarrassment. You tried to leave, but in the blink of an eye you found yourself your back against a wall, Felix’s body pressed against yours preventing you from running away. Anyway, where would you have gone? This was your room, for fuck’s sake! You shivered as he used his big hand to raise your head so he could look you in the eyes.

“You meant it?”

“What”

“What you wrote in your diary about me. You mean it?”

You had never seen Felix that serious before, his husky voice had lost all humor.

“It… It is… Yes, it is true. I … I really mean it.”

You blurted out the last words, anxious. What if it wasn’t what he wanted to hear? What if he hated you now? What if… Wait, why was he smiling?

“You have no idea how long I’ve longed for this. May I?”

You nodded, not sure what he was asking for. He cupped your cheek, and to your surprise he kissed you. You closed your eyes.

It was better than what you had read in your books, much better. His lips were soft against yours, his kiss tender but quite possessive at the same time. You returned it, quite clumsily due to your inexperience, but still with enthusiasm. He was the one to break it so you could breathe again. You were only human after all. Your body needed it.

“Damn, that was…”

He laughed at your reaction.

“Can you do it again?”

Smirking, he eagerly accepted your request.

Later, when you were too tired to stay awake, Felix accepted to stay under the covers and hold you. The feeling of his strong and much bigger body wrapped around your much smaller frame brought unholy thoughts to your mind, that you quickly shook away, but it still let you the time to show slight embarrassment. You thought for a moment that Felix would take advantage of it, but he didn’t, only kissing the top of your head and bringing you closer to his body.

“Does that mean that we are together now?” “You could say that dolcezza.” “So you’re my boyfriend?” “Absolutely not. I’m your mate. If you want a more human term, just say that I’m your husband.”

You looked at him, shocked, and that little shit that was your mate had the biggest grin you’d ever seen.

“I… I think mate is an appropriate term.” “As you wish.”

Your heart was beating so fast he couldn’t not hear it, and his bright smile was the confirmation. Luckily for you, Felix had decided to go easy on you for tonight. But you feared what his teasing would be like…

You fell asleep with these thoughts in mind, Felix’s arms holding you tight against him. “Buonanotte tesoro mio, ti amo…”

When you woke up the next day, Felix was still here, holding you.

“Hi” “Hi. Slept well?” “Yes” “Good”

Bringing you closer to him, Felix buried his face in your neck. You froze as it felt like he was smelling you, and he left a kiss where he could feel your pulse. Being this close to him felt nice, really nice. He smelled good, too. Something musky, homey.

“Are you sniffing me?” “You did a few moments ago” “Touché.” A pause. “So?” “You smell nice. Like home.” “Ah, that’s a mate thing, you know? I smell good like that to you only.” “And me? What do I smell like?” “The tastiest thing I’ve ever met.” “Felix!” “What?! You should take this as a compliment! You smell delicious!”

He had that cocky look that looked so good on him. You couldn't wait to spend forever with him.

It was near Christmas now. More than one year since you met Felix, a few months since you realized you loved him, and a few weeks since the two of you were fully mated. Well fully… There was something the two of you had not done yet. It was… sex. For fuck’s sake, you were an adult, you could say the word sex! But… that did not erase the fact that you had basically no experience in dating. Felix was your first kiss… and would be your first lover. The thing was that he was not aware of it. How could you tell him! This man was cocky enough, if you told him, it would sign you way to a never-ending teasing! Fuck. Wait, that was the point! This man – or vampire – was going to be the death of you.

Your thoughts were a complete mess. You were sure than even Aro couldn’t understand a single shit if he were to read your mind. Which was why it was a good thing that he hadn’t asked for a while. But maybe it could actually help? Wait no! You couldn’t let him know you were desperately trying to get in the pants of his executioner. All of it was driving you crazy.

You tried to keep up with appearances with Felix, behaving as normal as you could with him, but you couldn’t help but let some touches linger more than necessary, brush against him every time you were close with him, dragging the kisses as long as you could without accidentally killing yourself from the lack of oxygen… All of it you thought Felix didn’t notice. But that was forgetting something: your mate was very much a predator. And as a human, you were very much prey for him, even as his mate.

Your heartbeat running faster when he was close, the way his low voice would send shivers down your spine, or how some kisses and touches could get you clenching your thighs… Felix noticed everything, and your asshole of a mate was reveling in it, your love like the thrill of the hunt. He took great pleasure in it, day after day, trying to drive you crazy until you would be your back against a wall, forced to tell him exactly what you wanted. And he would make sure you beg for it, dragging the thrill of the hunt as long as he could. But lucky for you, he loved you more than it. He would try to not make you beg, not too much at least.

Your Felix had become great at reading you, your expressions, your desires. And being as old as he was, it had not been hard for him to put two and two together: the way you returned his affection, always eager but also quite clumsily, always holding back afraid of going too far or doing wrong… That darker, possessive side off him was extremely satisfied of it, no one had touched you like that before, no one but him, you were forever his.

After a few weeks, your struggles were not funny anymore, he wanted you to feel desired, to not see your inexperience as a bad thing. You were so damn beautiful and desirable; he would show you how much he wanted you.

He would be off duty for the next few days, it was perfect. The next time he would get in your bed, you would not be sleeping for a good while.

For the past few days, it seemed like Felix was toying with you, always managing to get you where and how he wanted. He was slowly taking you out of your comfort zone, it was like he had something in mind as he would hold you close, soft breath in the crook of your neck sending shivers down your spine. He would let you back up if you were too uncomfortable, of course, but the bastard knew what he was doing, always taking you further and further of your comfort zone without crossing your boundaries, teaching you a few things about you in the meantime. Damn, did you always have that size and voice kink or was it of his doing? Fuck, you had no idea but did not care much, it was too good for the reasons why to matter anymore.

All of this led you to that very moment, your Felix towering over you, your back against the wall of your room. Voice low, whispering in your ear, driving you crazy.

“Aren’t you pretty like that, all flustered? Your blood smell so good I might just eat you…”

Of course, this led you to grow even more flustered, your blood rushing and tempting him even more. He took another step, and lowered his head even more, leaving cold kisses on your neck, his cool breath driving you crazy. You move your head to give him a better access, and let out a soft moan as his teeth scrap your neck.

“You like that don’t you? To be all helpless as soon as I touch you. My beautiful darling…”

He lifts you, claiming your lips and you can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist. He bites your lower lip, and you let out a soft gasp, your Felix taking advantage of it, his tongue meeting yours to explore your mouth. After a while the two of you part, soft panting can be heard from you. At this moment, you realize you left your stereo on, and as your notice what song is playing you send to hell every hesitation and kiss him passionately.

“I want to hold you close, skin pressed against me tight

Lie still, close your eyes, girl, so lovely, it feels so right

I want to hold you close, soft breast, beating heart

As I whisper in your ear, "I wanna fucking tear you apart"

It drives the both of you crazy, leaving you only wanting more, more than everything you had already done. So when Felix carries you to the bed, you continue to kiss him. When he lays you on the bed, climbing on top of you, you drag him close and deepen the kiss. When he takes off your shirt, you unbutton his, hands roaming everywhere on the other’s body in a frenzy haze, kisses left everywhere.

“I want you” you pause. “No, I need you.” You let out a moan as he rips your bra and leave kisses on your breast, a smile oh so smug brightening his face as he finds your sensitive spot. You writhe underneath him, clenching your thighs together, left wanting more, needing more of him.  

“Felix…” His name leaves your mouth as a soft moan, and he can’t help but chuckle at your neediness, he’s finally got you where he wants you to be, he’s going to drag on this teasing as much as he can.

“That’s my name darling, say it again…”

He’s so smug but you can’t help but do as he say, especially when his pants and yours disappear, and his hand slip in your silky panties. As he brushes against your clit, you can’t help but buckle your hips, trying to get more friction where you need him the most.

“Eager, aren’t we?”  Always that smug expression, he knows he is driving you crazy and he revels in it: you’re his and he is the only one able to get these reactions from you. He leans over you, pressing his body against yours, claiming your lips once again. You whimper as you can feel his hard bulge against you, increasing your arousal to an extent you didn’t know was possible. But you weren’t the only one left craving for more.

“Please Felix…” “I need you to use your words tesorina. Tell me, what you want?” “You. I want you I need you!” “So greedy my darling… Is that what you want?”

You can’t answer him as he rips your panties, throwing away what’s left of them before making his own underwear meet the same fate. He’s bigger than you anticipated, yet the only thing you can focus on is how much you want him inside of you.

Not breaking eye contact with you, he strokes his penis a few times, making sure it’s slick with his precum and your arousal, and get on top of you, teasing your wet folds with his hard length.

“Are you sure you want this?” He looks at you with such seriousness, trying to read your face and be sure this is what you want, that he’s not going further than you’re comfortable with. “Yes Felix please” “You only have one word to say and I’ll stop if it’s too much for you”

You nod, and satisfied with your approval Felix thrust into you. You moan at the feeling; you feel so full of him. You expected it to hurt, being your first time, but it doesn’t, your love prepared you enough.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it my darling? My cock filling you up, bringing you more pleasure than you’ve ever had.”

You can only whine and moan, too lost in the pleasure you’re experiencing for the first time. Felix eats up every of your reactions, satisfied that only him get to make you feel this good.

“You’re so responsive to my touch” Felix praises you, and his words do something to you you weren’t aware of it being possible. Something good. Really good. Felix, attentive to all of your reactions, notice and whispers sweet praises in your ear, driving you wild. He thrusts faster, eliciting more moans from you. It feels so good, you can only focus on him and the pleasure he gives you, moaning his name.

“I love hearing you cry out my name, tesoro. It’s music to my ears.”

He finally finds an especially sensitive spot of yours, hitting it relentlessly, eliciting moan after moan from you. He growls in pleasure, getting you closer and closer. You feel something ready to snap inside of you.

“Please Felix I’m close so close!” “That’s it darling, come for me.” He kisses your shoulder. “Come for me, let me feel how much you love me. I’ll be right behind you, filling you with everything I have.”

The pad of this finger brushes against your clit, and with his dirty words it’s enough to make you snap, riding the first climax of your life. Your Felix follows quickly, his cool cum filling your cunt as he moans your name, “you’re mine all mine my [Y/N] forever mine never letting you go my sweet and beautiful [Y/N]”

You fall back on the bed, trembling with pleasure and exhaustion. Sliding out of you, Felix admires for a moment your mixed release dripping down your inner thighs, before laying down beside you and holding you close, whispering sweet praises in your ear. He kisses your forehead tenderly, and you snuggle closer to him.

“I love you” “I love you too tesorina”

Exhausted, you fall asleep, safe and spent in your mate’s arms, Felix never letting you go for a second, holding you tight against him the whole time. This is what eternity should feel like, and he will make sure it always is that way for you.  

[saintkunii]

All a ghost can do is haunt

Pairing. Zhongli x reader

Contents. arranged marriage, historical au, ex fiance childe mentioned, a simple life with your military general hubby zhongli.

Wc. 1.7k

It is with a heavy heart that you find yourself resigning to your fate, caressing a jade hairpin with grief. It’s smooth against your fingers. The intricate carvings give the illusion of a fluttering phoenix almost lifelike as if it’s about to soar to the skies. 

It’s the most exquisite thing in your possession and the only remnant you have of a certain diplomat’s son. 

With every stroke to the hairpin, you’re brought back to the day you received the item with so much fondness and excitement that you carried it with gentleness. afraid that if you put too much force, it would crumble under your touch. 

It was a rough hand that reached out to gift if to you that warmed up your soul. 

He said it was a promise of some sort. Of a lifetime and of his return. 

He said it was meant to symbolize your connection with him. Something physical. Something tangible. 

Something to remember him by.

You recall the soft breeze carrying ginko leaves off to the distance and the faraway clamor of a festive banquet in the background. 

His eyes back then were crystal clear, electric blue in hue stared at you with a tender grin, calloused fingers wrapped around your hand in a gentle hold. His thumb would rub around your knuckles in assurance as you were forbidden to meet in such a secluded part of the mansion. 

And he was rebellious in nature, always finding ways to get around and meet you in secret. When he enveloped you in his embrace, it’s as if it was meant to be, and you mold perfectly within his arms. 

It was perfect. 

His warmth soothed your racing nerves and the playfulness in his kiss filled you with nothing but glee. 

Everything went as it should. 

As the betrothal should have.

Ajax. You recall his name. What once filled you with joy and fondness has now turned into a bitter memory that makes you feel sick in your stomach. 

Your hold on the hairpin tightened and you let the item roll down your feet with a soft thud. 

It stings. Your chest feels constricted and your eyes warmed with tears. 

Oh you loved him so much, it hurts. 

Had you not decided to visit the marketplace with so much stubbornness, relentlessly pleading to your husband, you would not have met the sight of that man smiling and laughing with the woman he replaced you with. The ever so great foreign woman who attracted his curiousity. With hair as bright as gold, skin as pale as jade, and elegance as delicate as the calm winds that twists your heart with jealousy.

She was valiant. Aja- Childe would describe. Strong and courageous with a heart of gold, selflessly putting others above herself, and a woman of virtue. As you've been told.

You hated how soft his voice melted as he spoke those words. It was the same as how he used to speak to you in private. 

She was every bit that you're not. courageous and kind. 

It's a sight tainted with bitterness and such hollowness you can't help but resent the memory.

A servant at your side was alarmed at your reaction as she rushed up to you and supported you by your elbow. 

“Are you alright, madam?”

You choke a sob.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself and exhaled. 

There was no point dwelling over the past. 

Try as you might not to let said matters get to you, you realized that the long years of affection you harbored to Childe was not so easy to dispel as you had thought so. 

“I’m fine.”

Ling Ji picks up the hairpin and brushes away any dust that might have cling to it before returning it to you.

You take one glance at it. It’s magnificent and beautiful, appearing with great splendor that you've worn over the years. It carried all the memories you have of Childe. All the good and bad.

“Sell it away,” you order with a final conviction.

You decided to discard any remaining embers of feelings you have left for your previous fiance. 

This is for the best. 

You hope so. 

Parting was inevitable. 

“Madam? Are you sure?”

Ling Ji asks once more, afraid that she heard wrong but you only nodded your head to her. 

She knew how much you treasured the item.

“I do not want to repeat myself again. Just do it.” 

“As you wish.”

She excuses herself out of the room and disappears, leaving you all alone to gather your thoughts. 

It’s best you hold your head high now that you’re married to someone else and focus your energy on building a better relationship with your husband. After all, he saved you from the humiliation of being branded as a discarded woman not wanted by their betrothed. In exchange for an heir, he offers you all the wealth and luxuries, prestige and honor that are tied to being his wife, and freedom to do whatever you want to your heart’s content. 

–

Zhongli was a feared figure in the battlefield, a war god that ravishes the land with blood and carnage. Just a mention of his name was enough to evoke fear among the mass. They said he beheaded a man and skewered his head as a warning to the barbarians, they said he took a hundred men with his bare hands and tore through their flesh like it was nothing. 

It was always he said, she said. 

With a reputation as gruesome as the military general, stories were bound to blow out of proportion and thus you’ve always thought not to put too much attention to the rumors. 

When you first met him. He was nothing as they proclaimed him as. There was nothing like a fearmongering god in his visage. He was cordial when you talked to him. Ever so polite and patient when he offered you tea and shared a box of pastries over a casual talk. 

His rich knowledge of everything under the sun made you initially think he has semblance to the overly pompous and close minded noble sons that sees others beneath their stature, and yet not once had you seen him carry that arrogance that comes with the scholarly attributes. 

The humility in his approach is a little endearing as you would find yourself admitting.

“Did you enjoy your little trip to the market?” He asks, his hand careful in pouring tea. 

You watch his callous fingers wrapped around the handle of the teapot and as green liquid fills your cup, the earthy aroma wafts through your nose and soothes your nerves. 

That was supposed to be your job and yet you watch your husband serve you refreshments. Ever since you entered Zhongli's family registry as his wife, you always made sure to spend even a little bit of time with him.

“I did, my lord. But there was nothing that struck my fancy.”

You took the cup with gratitude and brought the rim to your lips. One sip and you place it back down with a soft thud. 

For some reason, Zhongli's presence always exudes such calm temperance that sways you into tranquil silence. The words exchanged between the two of you are never short and yet there's an unspoken trust that lets you cultivate in such an environment for such a short frame of time that you've been together. 

You consider him a friend at least. At this stage.

And you've been working hard to close the distance between you two.

“I see. Maybe next time I’ll bring you to Mingxing.” Zhongli empties his cup.

He sees your barely touched tea and regards you with curiosity.

“And have you adjusted well within the mansion?”

Whether he notices your plight or not, he doesn't comment on it and awaits until you're comfortable enough to spill it yourself. For that you are grateful. 

“Don’t you have Xiao to report back to you, my lord? I’m certain he already told you everything I’ve done.”

“That’s true but hearing it from you would be entirely different. I'd very much love to hear your personal opinion.”

You nod in understanding and recount anything of worth to tell. From the way you're adapting to your role as the mistress of the house and everything that involves managing the estate. 

You suppose you're doing well. Aside from your heartbreak. 

Everyday you spend time indulging in your hobbies. From reading to embroidering and painting, you've never felt more relaxed in your entire life. Comparing yourself with your life back in your paternal home, from the scheming of your father's concubines, to your sisters sabotaging each other, you've finally tasted a life free of worries. 

Zhongli did make a promise to let you live a comfortable life. Not only that but he had gone above and beyond as you noticed the lack of women in his inner court. As of now, all his attention was completely on you. 

"The progress for the renovation of the east wing is going well, my lord. It is estimated to finish before the arrival of this friend of yours."

You notice him crack a smile. 

“There is no point being so overly formal between the two of us, wife.”

You raise a brow at this, a little taken aback because of how you've been used to calling him. 

You didn't think it would matter to him much as he had always kept a respectful distance between the two of you. 

You humor him a little. You like this. 

You're thankful that he's meeting you halfway with your efforts.

He must have noticed as he's always been perceptive. 

“Very well. I’ll take it as an invitation to call you something else then.” For a while, you ponder for an endearment. “Zhongli.”

Zhongli chokes on his tea.

“You don’t like it?”

“No- That’s not it. It took me by surprise. That is all.”

“Oh? You don’t think it’s too intimate?”

“I, naturally, have nothing against it." Your husband regains his composure. "I suppose since we’re husband and wife then there’s nothing wrong with whatever way you wish to address me.”

You smile in response to this, letting the silence settle in the space between you and the warmth of what you can now call your family of your own. 

Maybe you're not quite there yet with love, but you're willing to try again once more, open your heart and trust with the companionship of your husband.

It's not all bad. You think so yourself. Zhongli is a great man as far as you can tell and you're ready to move on to the next chapter of your life with him.

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: Read chapter 1 for warnings

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men

Chapter 18

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You stared at your wedding ring as it sat on your small bedside table, the faint light from the sun peeking through the blinds glinting off the silver band.  The ring was slightly unconventional as far as wedding bands go, with your husband putting a shocking amount of effort into researching gemstones leading up to your engagement to pick the perfect stone for you.  The sight made you laugh, as he was never one for assigning spiritual meaning to innocuous objects such as rocks or stars, but when he proposed to you with a small yet brilliant blue apatite gemstone encased in a silver band that perfectly fit your finger, all of his effort and seemingly irrelevant research faded into the background.  Your engagement ring became your wedding ring, as the thought of parting with the tiny piece of jewelry became a thought too painful to bear, and Law’s own wedding band was fitted with even tinier blue apatite crystals that circled the thick metal around his own finger.

Your rings were less of a message to the world that you were a married couple, and more of an invisible red string that forever tied the two of you together, no matter how many miles separated you.  Your ring was your personal reminder that you were Law’s, and that he was your’s.

But as you rubbed your bare ring finger under the covers of your bed, laying on your side and staring at the cold piece of metal you cherished so much, fighting the lump in your throat, your mind was plagued with doubt.

Law hardly spoke to you in the week that had passed since you came home from the hospital for a second time.  And it wasn’t like he was busy with work.  Rather, he somehow managed to take a personal vacation in order to tend to your needs.  He was home with you every single day, cooking, cleaning, making sure you stood up from your bed to clean yourself and stretch your legs, but he wouldn’t speak to you.

You were starting to feel more like a geriatric patient than his wife, and the thought made your stomach churn.

Your mind reeled with insecurities.  Surely he was upset with you for losing the baby again.  You were doing so well, something you did must have caused everything to go downhill.  He’s probably already making plans with another woman, someone who could give him the child that he wanted, someone who can rebound from tragedy instead of laying in a depression nest of blankets day in and day out despite knowing how unproductive the act of self isolation was.  He must be talking about you behind your back to his friends, complaining about how you’re completely infertile, how you keep wanting to try and try and try for a baby but your body is useless and can’t even retain a simple embryo.

Scorching tears rolled down your cheeks as your body trembled under the covers.

He wouldn’t do any of that… would he?  No… that’s impossible.  He’s never been that type of man.  At least… you didn’t think so.

You sat up in your bed, snatching your ring into your fingers and holding it in the palm of your hand, your thumb rubbing along the blue gemstone.  Tears continued to flood out of your eyes and your throat stung from the hard glob of saliva that stood like a block of concrete and exasperated your humiliation.

You couldn’t do this.  You loved Law.  You loved Law more than anything in the world.  You wanted– no, needed him to love you back.  You were married for fucks sake.  How could he treat you like this?

With wobbly legs and a quivering lip, you stood from your bed and clutched your ring in your hand as your feet blindly led you to the door of your bedroom, pulling the entry open and entering the rest of your apartment.  You were embarrassed of how wet your face was, your tears leaving sticky streaks of shame on your skin as you approached the form of your husband in the kitchen, a large pot of pasta boiling in front of him and ten small tupperware containers spaced out on the counter.

“I don’t want a divorce,” you called, your voice cracking as you fought back your sobs.  You sounded truly pathetic.

Law turned around to face you, completely caught off guard by your sudden outburst.  “What?”

“I don’t–” your words were cut off by the sound of you unflatteringly sucking in the mucus that was forming in your nose.  “I don’t want a divorce.”

Your husband was quick to turn off the stove, moving the pot of boiling pasta to a cooler burner so he could give you his full, undivided attention.  He ushered you to your couch, your legs visibly wobbling beneath you as you stumbled over yourself.  The force of you sitting down on the plush cushions made a choking noise emanate from your throat.

“Who said anything about a divorce?” he questioned, sitting flush against you and holding your face in his hands, trying to wipe away tears with his thumbs.  His eyebrows were furrowed in a mix of confusion and profound concern.

“I don’t know,” you blubbered through your sobs.  “I just don’t want one.”

Law chewed on the inside of his cheek.  “I wasn’t planning on it.”

The force of you trying to contain your crying was beginning to grow painful as your chest constricted with each labored breath.  “Then… then…”  You frantically rubbed at your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt.  “Then why haven’t you been talking to me?”  You couldn’t meet the intense gaze of your husband, choosing instead to keep your head lowered, a feeble attempt at masking your utter humiliation from the man before you.

Law’s lips pursed in thought as he placed his hands on your legs, holding you steady as well as himself.  “I…”

“If you’ve been… if you’ve b-been talking to someone else, th-then just t-tell me.”

“Baby, look at me,” Law’s voice was low yet audibly trembling as he took your face in his hands once more, trying to turn your gaze towards him.  You were fighting against the motion of his arms, making his chest clench in agony at the sight.  “Baby…”

You finally forced your own eyes to catch a glimpse of his own, your stomach twisting at the sight of thick, salty tears lingering in the corners of his tear ducts.  His face gave away paragraphs of torment, the way his eyebrows were furrowed in anger, anger at himself for his inability to communicate, for making you feel neglected, for making you insecure over your place in his heart.  His lips were trembling, his lower lip slightly sucked inward as he gnawed on the fragile skin with his teeth.  

“I’m sor–”  Your fleeting words were instantly cut off as your husband pulled you into his body, a hug stronger than any other hug he had ever given you.  A hug that screamed insecurity, self-doubt, misery, heartache.  His entire body was trembling as you grasped for him.

“Don’t apologize, don’t ever apologize, ever.”  His voice was muffled into your shoulder, yet loud and clear to your ears alone.

You stayed frozen in his arms, the fabric under your cheeks rapidly growing saturated from your tears.

“God, I’m so sorry.  I’ve been neglecting you…” he breathed, as if he was talking to himself rather than you, laying the gravity of his inaction out for himself to absorb.

The two of you remained in that same position, a tangle of limbs on your couch, silent tears falling from your cheeks as you clung to each other like a lifeline.

“I’m hormonal,” you muttered.

“No, you’re not.  You’re grieving,” he combated.

“Then you’re grieving, too,” you argued back.

Law’s fingers gripped the fabric of your shirt tighter, as if he was trying to pull you into his ribcage, encase you into his very being so he would never have to release you to face the horrors of the world.  “I’m so sorry I made you feel like this…”

You sniffled.  “I just want you to talk to me again.”

“I know… I…”  You could almost hear the gears in Law’s head whirring as he desperately struggled for appropriate words.  “I’m scared,” was all he said.

You kept your lips sealed.

“I’m scared that I’m losing you.  So I pushed you away without even realizing.”

Your eyes closed, releasing more tears into the cotton of his shirt.  “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose you, either.”  His grip around your body finally relaxed just enough for him to pull back, taking your face into his hands before you had the opportunity to move out of his view.  “I love you.”

“I love you, too…” you mouthed back, your voice barely working.

“I love you.  I’m so sorry, I love you so much.”

Your hands slowly relaxed, the ring that you still held clutched to your palm accidentally falling onto your lap.  The movement alerted your husband, who was quick to snatch the metal piece from your legs and grab your left hand in his, slipping the ring back onto your finger just as he had done almost three years ago on the day your union was tied.

“You’re my wife.  And you don’t deserve to be left alone like I’ve done to you.  I’m sorry I’ve been keeping everything in instead of talking to you.”  He refused to release your hand after placing the ring back onto your finger, interlacing your fingers with his own.

Your trembling lips began to subside as you were more than happy to embrace his hand.  Your heart hammering in your chest barely relented, but you forced down the uncomfortable fluttering feeling by resting your head in the junction of his shoulder.  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Law.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he was quick to retaliate.

“Two miscarriages?” you questioned, exasperated.

Law made an audible clicking sound with his tongue.  “Your fertility doesn’t define you, and it never will.  Baby, I’ve mentioned it before, but I will remind you again and again until my tongue dries up.  I will never, never leave you over something like this.  You’re the woman I want to continue to spend the rest of my life with, family or no family.  As long as you, and no one else but you, are happy and healthy in my arms, then right now that’s all I care about.  And besides…”  His voice trailed off as his hands rubbed soothing patterns into your wrists.  “Human bodies suck sometimes.”

His final sentence made a laugh bubble from your weary lungs as you kept your head hung low, Law’s arms providing the security you thrived off of, the warmth you cherished more than anything.  Slowly, you lifted up your head, your eyes meeting his deep golden ones as you pressed your dry lips against his own, stealing a kiss from him.  A kiss that was laced with grief over the life you had both lost, but that was also filled with a renewed sense of hope and a deep, intense longing for something good to work.

—

A sharp knocking on your front door roused you from your peaceful slumber.  The bed beside you was cold, with Law having awoken in the middle of the night to report for a 24 hour shift.  You slowly rolled out of bed, stepping into your slippers and trudging to the entryway of your apartment, where the knocking only grew louder.  You were counting your blessings that Bepo was currently staying with Shachi and Penguin a few floors below, otherwise his barking would surely have given you a headache.

“I’m coming,” you called, hoping whoever was on the other end could hear you so they could stop rattling your walls.  Your warm hands stung against the freezing metal of your doorknob as you undid the deadbolt and pulled open the door.

“Surprise!” a small cacophony of voices brought you to attention, your eyes focusing on a small group of people standing outside your door.

The bright, shining face of your best friend Nami, your coworker Sanji, and their two partners.  Vivi you remembered, she graciously gave you and your husband wedding venue recommendations and discounts with her plethora of connections within the city.  Sanji’s boyfriend’s name slipped your mind however.  The four stood in your entryway toting a generously sized gift basket, packed with such a wide assortment of goodies that your eyes could barely focus on anything in particular.

“Oh my goodness, you guys!” you yelped, your genuine shock emanating from your pores as you quickly welcomed them inside and out of the stifling heat of the hallway.  “You didn’t have to get me anything…”

“We know,” Nami stated bluntly, before a sharp elbow to her side from the blue-haired girl next to her cut her off promptly.

Vivi was quick to envelop you in a hug, a bright smile on her face.  “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!”

You excitedly hugged her back, your eyes closing with your own grin.  “I just wish it could have been under better circumstances,” you added as she pulled away from you.

Her large, brown eyes were apologetic.  Nami must have told her what had happened, as much as she knew anyway.  “Hey, it’s never a bad time to see a friend.  I’m just so happy to see you up and about!”

“Is Law at work?” the smooth voice of Sanji asked as he placed the gift basket on your kitchen counter.  He made a move for the box of cigarettes in his shorts pocket, but stopped himself when he remembered your very strict no smoking policy.

“Yeah, he has a 24 hour shift so I won’t be seeing him until tomorrow,” you replied.

The disgruntled man next to Sanji was throwing glances around your apartment, almost like he was questioning where he was.  It probably didn’t help that his left eye was scarred shut.  Who was this guy again?

“Oh, I can’t remember if you were ever formally introduced, this is my boyfriend, Zoro,” Sanji introduced, pulling the slightly shorter man forward and grabbing his attention away from the lights on your ceiling.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Zoro,” you greeted, contemplating on extending your hand but deciding against it.

“Likewise,” the green-haired man replied.  “You got a fancy place here, is your husband a doctor or something?”

You grinned.  It always filled your chest with pride to discuss your husband’s job with others, having seen first-hand how hard he worked to attain his position.  Although the two of you remained in a very humble living situation, you were still very thankful that his generous income allowed for a very nice city apartment.  “Cardiothoracic surgeon,” you answered, your eyes glittering with fondness.

“You’re so freaking cute when you talk about him, it makes my heart melt!” Nami cooed, holding onto your arm and faking a dramatic dip.

The conversation eventually carried the five of you into your main living space where you were seated in between Nami and Vivi with the large gift basket in your lap for you to rummage through.  There were boxes of chocolates and various candies, chapsticks, bundles of scrunchies and hair ties, a bottle of personal body mist, some light cosmetics, fragrant soaps and bathing supplies, and a small bottle of over-the-counter painkillers.

“It’s kind of like a period care package, but… you know.  Minus the period,” Nami explained, her voice trailing off awkwardly.

You were beaming as you dug through the basket and procured an envelope.  Inside was a folded piece of cardstock paper with the colorful words “GET WELL SOON” written on the outside in various highlighters.  On the inside, the card was completely filled with messages of support and condolences from your coworkers, your managers, your boss, even the maintenance crew who cleaned the building every morning and night.  Well wishes offering their best for you and your husband as you recovered, extending their hands of support for whenever you needed it.  You felt your eyes well with tears once again, your body clearly still being hydrated enough to keep the waterworks flowing.

“You all…” your lip quivered.  “You didn’t have to do all this!”

“But we wanted to, so we did,” toted Sanji affirmatively, crossing his legs as he sat on your loveseat next to Zoro, who still seemed mildly confused about the whole situation.  “I personally wanted to put even more in the basket, but everyone chipped in an even amount and I didn’t want the boss to yell at me.”

The blonde’s explanation made you giggle as you folded the card back up and tucked it neatly into the basket with the rest of your goodies.  “I don’t even know what to say, this was… such a nice surprise to wake up to!”

Vivi’s gentle hand rubbed your shoulder as she smiled.  “Anything for you, dear.”

You allowed your friends to mill around your apartment while you retreated to your bedroom with your basket to freshen up.  You placed the bundle of snacks and toiletries on the top of your wooden wardrobe, right next to a framed photo of you and Law on your wedding day, posed in the center of your wedding parties, all of your most beloved friends standing on either side of you, everyone dressed to the nines and throwing their hands in the air in celebration as Law had dipped you for a passionate, surprise kiss for the camera.  Even Bepo, who was significantly smaller then, had a tiny black bowtie wrapped around his fluffy neck.  The photo always made a grin appear on your face, even in the most bleak moments of life.

“Hey, do you mind if I come in?”  Vivi’s soft voice bounced off the walls of your bedroom as she called for you from your bedroom door.

You turned your attention to her, offering her a fond smile.  “Of course not, what’s up?”

Vivi slipped into the confines of your room, lightly shutting the door behind her to give you both privacy.  “I was hoping I could talk with you about something.”

Your chest clenched with nervous tension, but you guided her to the side of your bed where you both sat side by side.  Vivi caught you off guard by grabbing your hand in hers, clutching it in much the same way a caring and motherly guardian would.

“Stop me if I’m saying too much, but I really wanted to share this with you,” she began.  “My grandmother had five miscarriages before she had my dad.”

Your saliva caught in your throat at your words.  “F… Five?”

The blue-haired woman nodded, her eyes portraying a deep sympathy.  “Yup, five.  She used to call my dad her ‘rainbow baby,’ her miracle child that blessed her after the storm clouds parted.”

The phrase sounded vaguely familiar to you, but the sentiment made your heart thrum with grief.  “Rainbow baby…”

Vivi nodded, squeezing your hand.  “I wanted to tell you this just because I want to make sure you know you’re not alone.  I can’t even imagine the pain that you must be feeling, but you’re not meant to deal with it alone, and neither is Law.  You both deserve support from your friends just as much as you need each other, you know?”

She was right, really.  You and Law relied on each other for everything you did in your lives, but the seriousness of your two miscarriages carried a weight that neither of you were able to truly shoulder alone.  Your mind ran to Shachi and Penguin, who happily offered to take care of Bepo so you and Law had time to recover.  You thought about Ikkaku, who sat with you in the ambulance ride to the hospital, holding your hand and suppressing her own terrified tears as she was mouthing off to the paramedics who disregarded and attempted to shut down your pain and agony.  You thought about your boss at work who graciously granted you ample time off to recover from the incident, and how Robin was tending to your needs after working hours because she wanted to ensure the best success for you, and nothing more.  You pictured Law’s team of nurses and fellow doctors in the cardiac ward who were almost constantly checking in on him on his days off, allowing him extra time to rest during his day-long shifts and offering extra assistance with his menial tasks.  And now, your small group of friends had arrived at your apartment on a whim to surprise you with a care package of generosity and love.

You gave a dry huff, your lips curled in a sad smile.  “Two miscarriages isn’t nearly as bad as five, though…”

Vivi promptly shook her head, completely shutting down your notion.  “There is no way to compare tragedies.  Just because the quantity of loss might be bigger for someone else doesn’t mean the gravity of your situation is any less.  And you deserve to grieve for your two babies just as much as someone with one miscarriage, or five miscarriages, or any other fertility issue might grieve.  I’m serious.”

Her words brought small tears to the corners of your eyes, slipping down your cheeks.  You were getting pretty sick and tired of crying, but it wasn’t worth holding it in anymore.  Letting it all out was cathartic for you, and it seemed to be the same way for Vivi as she circled her arms around you in a sisterly hug, squeezing you firmly as you hugged her back.

“Don’t be afraid to reach out for help, whether it’s from us, or your coworkers, or a professional.  You’re not alone, and you never will be.”  The back of her soft hand trailed down your cheek, soothing your features.  “Millions of other moms and grandmothers are rooting for your success.  Whether you try again or not, you deserve to be happy.”

“Vivi…” your words were barely above a whisper as her words tugged at your heart strings, your stomach flipping with butterflies.  “Thank you, thank you so much.”

—

Wifey

Hi baby!  I miss you, look what our friends dropped off today!!!!

Wifey

[1 Image Attachment]

Wifey

[1 Image Attachment]

Wifey

Sorry for the spam i didnt realize my finger was in the first pic, but its a huge care package!  Theres a bath bomb in here, i think we should use it together <3  And then eat the chocolates… or eat the chocolates in the bath!!!!

Wifey

Okay im gonna go take a nap, i love you so much baby i love you and i miss you and i cant wait to see you after your shift!!!!

—

Baby~~<3

I’m holding you to that bath, my darling.

Baby~~<3

I’m about to go into an operation that’s going to take a while, so if you try to text or call and I don’t respond, that’s why.

Baby~~<3

I can’t wait to see you later, I love you endlessly.  <3

[railingsofsorrow]

RAILINGSOFSORROW'S FICS RECS (0.1)

here's the 1st part of a recs list of my favourite fics! (had to split in two because tumblr was being a nightmare) have it mind that they can either be on tumblr or ao3.

the (+) means it has a smut masterlists: [0.1] [0.2]

↯

━━ CRIMINAL MINDS

↬flight risk by @brywrites (s.reid x reader) (series)

I didn't know I could feel so safe reading about a pilot and a profiler, given their jobs, but I did and this fic is so magical. I loved the analogies the angst everything plz read it.

↬the sleep chronicles by @stickseasn (s.reid x reader)

↬a moment of weakness by @writer-in-theory (s.reid x reader) (series)

↬lepus the hare by @↑ (s.reid x reader)

↬(in)visible by @foxy-eva (s.reid x reader)

I felt like the words were being said to me *crying*

↬sundays by @definitelynotkatesblog (s.reid x reader)

↬ if you'll have me by @reidscanehand (s.reid x reader)

↬mister spencer by @imagining-in-the-margins (s.reid x singlemom!reader)

↬fall apart by @spencersimp (s.reid x reader)

↬bluebell by stillmarauding (ao3)

this one is really good, 90 chapters so far and still updating.

↬lost at sea by @five-bi-five-mind (j.jareau x reader)

literally everything written by this account is amazing.

↬breakfast by @↑ (j.jareau x reader)

↬ spontaneous phenomena by @luveline (a.hotchner x reader)

彡

━━ HARRY POTTER

1. [marauders era]

↬interrupted by @cosmal (rubgy!james x f!reader)

↬chocolate orange by @↑ (r.lupin x reader)

↬crooked ties by @cupids-crystals (j.potter x reader)

↬mary macdonald by @↑ (r.lupin x sister!reader)

↬first class let down by @starstruckwillows (adhd!j.potter x reader)

↬oh bloody hell by @gtgbabie0 (j.potter x reader)

↬championship cups by @perpetuallydaydreaming (j.potter x reader)

↬bun in the oven by @letterstotheflre (r.lupin x f!reader)

↬never be another by @cryonme (r.lupin x reader)

↬he loves you by @↑ (r.black x reader)

↬cursed by @pregnant-piggy (s.black x reader) (series)

all of their fics are great.

↬off days by @messers-moony (s.black × daughter!reader)

I love everything they write + wolfstar dads&lt;;33

↬she's a fighter by @stylesparker (r.black x reader)

↬little king by @acosmis-t (r.black x reader)

↬cocoa by @earlgreydream (r.black x reader)

from time to time I come back to reread it. it's a comfort blurb &lt;3

↬ours by @janesociety (l.evans x f!reader)

why are there barely any lily evans fics??? let's change that.

↬loving is easy by rxgulus (jegulus; background wolfstar)

I've gushed about this fic on here. I love everything about it, remus being a tease, james being a simp, sirius being a drama queen and regulus being regulus. there's also baby harry at some point. it is my favourite one for a reason go read it.

↬step into the daylight and let it go by serendipitysirius (jegulus; background wolfstar) (currently being updated)

I have at least five quotes from this fic glued on my bedroom walls. it is that special to me.

↬drugs and surgical scrubs by anauro (jegulus; background wolfstar; rosekiller) (currently being updated)

one of the best piece of work I've ever read, worth every tear.

↬absent mindedly making me want you by calamitoustide (jegulus; background wolfstar) (completed)

my FAVORITE fic of all time, I love the way james and reg are portrayed in this, it's so raw and innocent and special.

↬papa mia! by chasingthestar (jegulus; background wolfstar & marylily) (currently being updated)

the angst kills me but the fluff is worth it.

↬a doorstep of affection by @marauders-venting (wolfstar)

↬unlovable by @masivechaos (dads!wolfstar x reader)

↬panic by @sp1rit-realm (platonic/poly! marauders x reader)

all of their fics are amazing.

↬boyfriend swap by @v1oletvenus (s.black x reader; platonic!j.potter x reader)

↬mouth of september by @luveline (platonic!marauders x reader)

one of my favourites.

1. [golden trio era]

↬ just the medicine by @vanillann (d.malfoy x reader)

↬evergreen by @starlitsilvereyes (drarry)

↬say the words then stay around by teatrolley (drarry)

it's an orphan account but it's still available and it's so so good.

↬ all wounds heal by @willowbleedsonpaper (t. nott x reader; d.malfoy x reader)

funfact: theo nott fics was what got me into the marauders wormhole plus this is a work of art.

↬ twinkle by @sapphicwhxre (h.granger x reader)

↬not like any other by @hadesrise (h.potter x slytherin!male!reader)

↬harry calls you after a breakdown by @igncrantbliss (h.potter x reader)

[knightofhylia]

Basic Spirit Contact Etiquette

We’ve all seen some sort of ghost-hunting show in our lives, whether you were an avid Ghost Adventures fan or looking for scary things to watch on Halloween.

Here I’m whipping up a guide based on my 10+ years working with spirits on how to approach spirits respectfully and conduct yourself during contact whether in your own home or another location. This is focused on the types of spirits you may encounter while on a ghost investigation.

Before Contact

Consider who you are bringing with you.  Take into account the location you are going to. If you are in the south investigating a plantation with a crew of all white men it might get a little tense and spirits will probably not like to respond, or respond harshly. Most of the time when shows actually think about this is if they are going to a prison or something and they bring girls to attract ghosts. Think about the spiritual background of the people attending. People of different backgrounds will react to and attract different types of entities. 

Bring an offering. No one wants to do anything for free, so, give a little ‘thanks’ for the spirit's time and energy by bringing a gift. This can be almost anything! Do your research if you are investigating a specific location. Time periods, regions, specific people, and general areas can give you a clue on what to give.  If you really don’t have much info, there are some good (generally) universal offerings. 

Energy

Spirits need energy to manifest like I need energy to manifest myself out of bed sometimes. There are a couple of different ways to do this. 

Candles are a great, cheap, easy way to offer a little energy to the spirits. PLEASE USE CAREFULLY. Make sure it has a stable support such as a holder if its a tapered candle or bowl if it is a pillar candle. Place a plate underneath to catch any wax runoff. I’m not going to go deep into candle colours, but the ones I personally use are purple for psychic boost, white for general and cleansing, black for protection, or blue for insight. 

Crystals and rocks are a very common offering as well. This doesn’t have to be fancy, honestly a little quartz goes a long way sometimes. I personally have a pouch that has my stones for spirit contact specifically that I take with me to help me connect. I’m not going to go super extensive into the meanings of the crystals, you can find that other places, but these are my go to:

Labradorite: good for intuition and heightening senses

Spirit Bomb Quartz: I’m gonna be honest, I bought this mainly because it looked like a kidney stone I had, and it's one of Yusuke Urameshi's powers. But! It’s quartz so it’s always good to have around.

Azurite: good for mentality clarity and receiving messages. 

Lapis Lazuli: My favourite stone <3. Good for connecting with inner guidance and intuition. 

Music is great for bringing in spirits. Music is this incredible source of energy that carries over despite language, time period, or place. We all love music! Music can change a room in a minute. With music you are transported to a different time and place. This is great especially for spirits from older periods as it brings out a lot of nostalgia and emotion. Music also helps you get into the right headspace for communication as well.

Special objects are used all the time in ghost shows. Personal belongings such as jewelry, books, or clothes work well. Toys and crayons for children have been known to get them to come out and play. Things from the person’s time period or hobbies they did can help draw them in as well.

Food

Food is what gives us energy, and that doesn’t change much in the spirit realm either. Some good basic foods to bring are things like bread, fruit, baked goods, tea, or alcohol. I've found unless there is specific trauma around it, most spirits accept alcohol/cigarettes. Consider the time period or region of your location. 

If you are investigating an old house or mansion, what food was popular at the time? What food was popular in the region? Try and give something that is familiar or would be a treat for them. Crack open a cold one for the spirits in your haunted bar, maybe offer up some peanuts or chips to bring the people in. Invite the lady of the mansion some nice tea or cakes and a chat. 

If investigating a hospital/mental ward/prison, consider bringing something from the outside world. From my personal experience there is nothing someone wants more after a long stint in the hospital than a big burger. These people died eating the blandest shit imaginable (if they weren’t starved) so try something they wouldn’t have been able to have before. You don’t have to cook a wagyu beef steak, but cookies or sweets could go a long way in winning the favour of more shy or angry spirits. Bring milk and cookies to the children’s ward for a treat! Give the kids the sugar they couldn’t have in this realm!

What do spirits do with food?

Think about all the energy you put into cooking! All the stirring, kneading, heating, cooling, oils, herbs, meats, water, all has energy that gets combined and condensed when food is made. In my mortal opinion, spirits can feed off of this energy like we eat food. This is why I think some food offerings shrivel quicker. The energy from the cow used to produce the milk is carried down through the milking, pasteurization, packaging, distribution and receiving of one single bottle, gaining more energy each step of the way. Machinery used to make food feeds into that energy as well as the people who make it. You ever buy food and can taste the energy of the overworked underpaid worker who made it? Homemade items are usually the best, but store bought works just the same. 

I also believe that the spirit can manifest to physically eat the food. This could either be an apparition or manifesting in the form of an animal. 

If the food is store bought I might suggest cleansing it spiritually before offering it. 

What to do with the food?

There are a couple options here. The easiest one is just leave it and let nature take its course. Liquids are usually poured on the ground or drain. If you are not on your own property I would suggest other methods such as burying(if it won't harm the wildlife) or (SAFELY) burning. I would use a big fireproof bowl such as a glass or metal mixing bowl (probably best if it’s not the one you use in the kitchen). If you are able to leave it overnight and come back to it, take note of any changes to the food! I like to keep my offerings out overnight but if it is going to spoil or stink then whenever you are done/they are done is fine.

Incense

Fire is an amazing element! Prometheus ain’t getting his liver eaten eternally for nothing! Fire can turn herbs and resins into magic in a flash. There’s a reason incense has been used for centuries in ritual practices all over the world. This can be done with sticks, cones, resins, bundles or loose. If you are going to burn incense PLEASE do this carefully as well.

Herbs and plants I usually burn are mugwort, wormwood, damiana, sandalwood, lavender, and cedar. This can be done either as a blend or individually. These are usually burned on a charcoal disk or as a stick if I can find one. 

Resins are also common for rituals and spirit contact. There’s a reason Christians love to hotbox themselves with frankincense and myrrh. Shit works! These take a little more work so I suggest planning ahead if you are going to use these.

If you’re a cop you have to tell us!!! Ok now that the cops are gone this might sound wack, but in my experience, ghosts love drugs. I have yet to encounter a spirit who did not like weed. I have been told specifically to smoke weed with my spirits to help charge and cleanse them. Taking a rip from a bong invokes all four elements and helps center yourself. I wouldn’t suggest toking up in a haunted mansion, but a sprinkle of flower or kief on a charcoal disk can work as well. Use tobacco wisely as it is sacred to many Native cultures. Use Native grown tobacco and treat the herb with the respect it deserves. White supremacy and capitalism have tainted tobacco to be what it is now. If offering cigarettes, I suggest using the more organic ones. That being said, if you know a specific brand the spirit likes, opt for that one. I would suggest burying this offering as burning it may cause health issues, set off fire alarms, or leave a harsh smell. 

Consider the type of haunting or spirit you are going to interact with. What do previous reports say the activity is?  What type of location is it? What was this land before something was built here? I will briefly cover different types of hauntings and spirits that are common for ghost investigations. This is by no means all-encompassing but I’ve gathered this much from observations.

Active haunting. Classic ghost haunting. This type of spirit is aware of their surroundings to a degree. Usually conscious of the fact they are dead but not always. Common characteristics are:

Footsteps

Lights flickering

Feelings of being watched

Temperature drops

Hearing voices

Apparitions (full body, partial, shadow beings)

Mild physical activity (touching, doors closing/opening on their own, minor movement of objects)

Residual haunting. More common for places of tragedy, this type of spirit is usually not aware of their surroundings and instead are repeating moments of their life. Most characteristics apply from active hauntings to residual as well.  The main difference is activity is done in a pattern. Common characteristics are:

Activity that comes in cycles or patterns i.e. specific times of day/year, specific places

Footsteps

Movement of specific objects

Voices or audio that does is not in response to the living word

Apparitions seen around same place/time

Poltergeist. This is the more active type of haunting. Most horror movies are based on this type. This type of haunting usually happens when a spirit is very powerful, usually angered or annoyed. The spirit is very aware of its surroundings. Common characteristics are:

Apparitions of all kinds

Footsteps

Doors slamming

Wall banging

Intense physical activity (things being thrown, moved, broken, or disappearing)

Physical presence (cold rooms, being able to push or grab people)

Behaviour change  in people (more aggressive, sad, or just strange behaviour in general)

There is a lot of bleedover in regards to the categories, but it is usually determined by intensity and frequency of objects. 

During Contact

Ugh, nothing pisses me off more than people back-talking ghosts when they are trying to make contact. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar folks. Here’s quick do’s and don'ts of making contact with spirits.

Do:

Bring an offering

Announce your presence when you come in and state your business. Be polite and introduce yourself. Spirits are more likely to warm up to you if they know what your doing.

Explain your equipment as you set it up or use it. Show them where to talk on recorders, I can almost guarantee someone from the 1800s probably doesn’t know about REM pods, EMF detectors, and video cameras. Explain using simple language but remember you are not talking to a child (unless you are). Demonstrations of equipment can help you test out your gear and get the spirits used to it. Evidence doesn’t start when you turn off the lights, record as you set up in case curious ghosts have things to say

Thank the spirit when it responds! If you ask for a sign and they bang the wall, thank them! Even if it’s scary stuff like slamming doors it’s still good to thank them.

Don’t:

Provoking the spirits by taunting isn’t going to do shit but get you cursed. Y’all know what I’m talking about. Early seasons Zak Bagans shit. ‘I’m not scared of you! Come out and face me! Show yourself coward! Attack me!’ Okay dude good luck with that attachment!

You are a mere mortal in the presence of something you don’t understand, don’t be an asshole about it. Talk to them like they are people because they probably were once! Talk in a respectful tone and be humble.

Don’t get mad if they don’t respond. Be mindful of where you are and what you’re talking about. If you are asking a spirit about a horrific event, accept that they may not want to talk about it. The type of haunting may not be fit for the type of investigation you’re doing. 

NOT EVERY GHOST IS A DEMON OR EVIL. I’m so tired of every time someone has a negative interaction with a ghost it’s a demon. Maybe they’re just pissed off you’re in their space? Don’t throw around random labels just because you’re uncomfortable. 

Debunking is always good to try but disregarding unexplainable things discourages spirits from trying. Or they may try harder and you might not like what they do!

Ending Investigation

Show your gratitude. Dispose of your offerings properly and thank the spirits for their time and energy. Clean up any mess you may have left.

Cleanse the space.  Everyone likes to cleanse differently so I won’t go into it too deeply. Personally, I like to burn incense and use sound. I find ‘cleansing tones’ on Spotify and turn my bluetooth speaker upside down so the speaker is directly touching the surface. I believe this helps dispel negative energy. Other ways are using a bell, using cleansing water, visualization etc. Take only pictures, leave only footprints type of deal. This is especially important for places of violence or negative energies. 

I advise walking out of the space backwards so nothing can follow you and cleansing yourself when you are done. Too often people go into these spaces, rip the bandaid off the spiritual wounds and then leave. It’s cruel to keep these spirits bound to these places for our entertainment.

Only YOU can prevent spiritual fuckery!

Note: the source leads to an outside blog that is co-run by me. Some of the words may have been changed in this edition, but this is not plagiarism, i wrote both! The URL is randomly generated for now but it is still a legit website. Feel free to check out the other posts!

[your-local-baguette]

A clouded mind.

Warnings: maybe oc?? Little angst. Not proofread

The light of your phone was the only source of light in your room, it was late, you couldn't find sleep at all. Your earphones plugged in and your music blasting, you mouthed the lyrics to yourself. The covers halfway over your body, you scrolled on instagram. Nothing very interesting really came up, almost all your attention was on the music destroying your ears. You laid your phone on your chest before you heard a slow knock on your door. You could only faintly hear it due to the heavy rain outside, you quickly got up, only opening the door a little. But that was quickly replaced with a full swing and your eyes filled with worry with the sight in front of you. Megumi was standing there in the rain, a tall man with soaked white hair in the background walking away before winking at you. You grabbed megumi's hand before pulling him inside, getting him to sit on the a side of your bed. You came back with a towel, offering it to him, but he just put it on his lap. You got into a squatting position in front of him, grabbing his hands very gently. He looked at you, smiling gently at him, he tightened his grip on your hands. Tears soaking his cheeks once more, you got up and hugged him. After a few seconds you felt him hug you back, he had a strong grip but you didn't mind. You gently and carefully untangled his wet hair with your fingers. It was fairly easy but you just brushed it to comfort him. His tears wet stained your shirt but who cared ? He was in dire need of comfort, not the time to think about a stain. The sniffing slowly stopped, you cupped his face, smiling at him. He didn't smile back, but you could see the gratitude in his eyes. His eyes spoke when he couldn't, his actions speaks for him. His mind was clouded, but he knew one thing, you were there for him. He pulled you in a bit, both of your faces inches apart, you tilted yours sideway slightly. Your lips didn't collide, but they very gently met instead, it was slow, full of love. Everything else was gone, only you and him, only you and megumi, you half opened your eyes only to meet his ocean eyes. You both parted, not out of breath, but you smiled so kindly at him. He couldn't help but smile back, the reason of his crystal tears now in the back of his mind. He only wanted to feel that again.

"i love you..."

[stardustizuku]

Why Miraculous LadyBug Is the Worst Thing To Happen To Magical Girl Genre in All Its History.

It would be easy to sit here and tell you all the logical reasons why Ladybug is a bad show. It has horrible pacing, it has low stakes, repetitive episodes, and a dialogue that is cringe worthy enough to get its own tiktok sound.

But saying that, would be beating a dead horse at this point. Everyone knows this show is a bunch of wasted potential, only made worse by a director who keeps thinking he created gold, when in fact he messed up in a lot of areas – particularly the fact that he’s a grown man who thinks he knows what little girls want.

I’m not here for that.

Particularly, because I can be quite forgiving to shows like this. I mean, they’re kids' shows! Meant for little girls, and I haven’t been one for a few years now. But I still enjoy them.

Why? Well, cause I’m a massive fan of Magical Girl animes. I love the glitter, the sparkles, the silly adventures with friends, and the transformation sequences! Even with all its flaws, I really like them. So, stories or shows that borrow from them, get a pass in all these things. 

I mean, I have fun re-watching WINX Club, I love Star Vs The Forces of Evil despite its flaws. Steven Universe holds a deep place in my heart and She-Ra is…She-Ra is in its very own league of how amazing it is.

So, no. Be it a very dumb show or a very smart one, I can have fun. It’s very rare when a show with, you know, glitter, girly stuff and animals CAN’T hold my attention.

But, well, MLB failed at that.

It’s just, not a good show.

I mean, it could be. But the age demographic would need to drop several, several age groups just to be barely watchable – and even then, I seriously doubt that it would be good for young girls to watch it. The lessons it teaches are concerning, to say the least.

And at this point, you may be thinking,

"Why do you care so much about this show? It’s dumb and you’ve acknowledged it treats its demographic as toddlers. Why do you care so much?"

Well, because I've been here... for a very, very long time.

Listen, I started watching Miraculous Ladybug, back when I was in high school. Maybe a bit old, but, hey, a lot of unique cartoons came out around that time. (Star Vs, Steven Universe, etc). So, I was hopeful. Really hopeful.

Mainly, because I was here before it EVEN premiered. I remember it. The original PV was 2D animated and it had this vague Princess Tutu vibes that JUST I couldn’t resist. It was clear as day that it borrowed a lot of its inspiration from magical girls from the 90's, probably even 80's.

The premise looked similar enough to Kaito Jeanne, and Kaito St. Tail for me to draw those conclusions.

It had a dynamic very similar to Princess Tutu and seemed like a mix of silly and dark like that one was.

To be honest, I could even see hints of Sugar Sugar Rune with Pierre and Felix.

Not to mention, the animation was beautiful.

I will never, never forget that scene with Chat looking at Ladybug starry-eyed under the Paris Moonlight. That was so beautiful, a genuine touch of romance that rang so similar to the Magical Girl animes I grew up with.

I was thrilled, I was excited. I wanted this show to succeed, before even the premier had dropped.

This is all to say -

I never came to this show with the intention for it to fail.

And I didn’t expect nor want it to be ground-breaking or a giant of the genre. I just hoped I could have a fun time.

I didn't want subversions, I didn't want it to be dark, or deep. All I wanted, was sparkles, fun and a good time.

So, when it first aired, I tried to stay positive. I tried to like it, even when it had all these massive red flags.

I’ve never been a big fan of 3D animation, and especially not how it’s used in Magical Girl animes. (We all know the disaster the first season of Sailor Moon Crystal was).

But I swallowed it down.

The characters were different from the original PV

But I swallowed it down.

The background scenery was bland and generic and hardly felt unique.

But I swallowed it down.

I was here since day 1. I was here when Stormy Weather premiered. I was here before many of you were, and

I swallowed it all down.

Because I really, really wanted this to be good.

And I really thought it would.

But things should have been made clear, when they fucked up the one thing they shouldn't. The one thing that held this all together. The one thing that kept me here even as everything was burning to the ground, and I was too naive to realize it.

They fucked up the thing that started all this, to begin with.

MasterList >> NEXT

[aceofsnacks]

I did a tour of GO filming locations

It was around London, so I didn't get all of them, but the trip has been such a blast I just have to share the pics!

1. St James park: so many birds! And tourists. Which is good because the secret government agents wouldn't be able to feed so many ducks. I saw pelicans too—they were huge and pink and funny!!

2. Berkley Square (they actually didn't film anything here, but still): it's a giant construction site now. The only birds I spotted were parrots, so many of them, at least 5 nests, and loud too. No sane nightingale would ever come there, this much is true. But the song is referenced on one of the bench plaques <3

3. The Ritz / The Criterion: they both look nothing like the restaurant in the show (maybe the Criterion changed since 2019?) But both are fancy! When my rich uncle leaves me a giant inheritance and I find my 6000 year soulmate, I am so taking them out there, just you wait.

4. The Globe: this is my favourite theatre now!!!Macbeth was magnificent! And the standing tickets were so worth it: actors were down in the crowd and interacted with everyone! I got some of Macduff's blood on me! (Can't get this anywhere else :D) The Globe is closed in winter, so I'm already planning to buy tickets for next year.

5. The Bandstand and the-place-where-Gabriel-was-running: after marinating on Tumblr for so long I felt shocked seeing the word "bandstand" on a physical sign in the park. Like, put up a warning at least, my heart needs to be prepared?? The actual bandstand was at the same time smaller and bigger than I expected. Also those red bits—apparently they were there the whole time; I was imagining it black and white for some reason.

Also I met another crazy fan taking pictures of the bandstand in the rain, and I remember thinking, they have to be just as crazy as me xD

6. Tavistock square (where they switched bodies): the filming crew must have moved the benches around, because the square itself is so tiny and you can only match the scene background if you stand all the way back in the bushes. Surely there must have been a better way.

7. Crystal palace: just as I suspected, you can't see the dinosaurs from the bench because of all the trees in the way. The dinos are hilarious though, they look more like🗿and not like 🦖. In the show Warlock seems to have written a rude word on the teleosaurus info card, how dare he!

8. Tadfield (Hambleden, really): I thought, it's just two hours from London, easy day trip, in and out, what could go wrong. Cue to me stumbling over muddy fields in the dark surrounded by menacing sheep and regretting everything. The village is cute and English and has literally three streets and a post office and nothing else. And sheep.

9. Bonus round, my take on Aziraphale's bookshop xD "Seducing women? I think you've got the wrong shop!"

10. Bonus bonus round, food! (am I or am I not the ace of snacks after all?) An oyster recipe from Marcus Gavius Apicius' cookbook (Rome, 1c CE, stumbled upon it in the museum of Reading), and Eccles cakes (soooo sweet they don't calm people down but give them instant diabetes)

And that's it!! Thank you for reading all the way <3 Here is a secret snack 🍎

[rreskk]

This is really specific but I have this fantasy (and your writing is absolutely immense, thank you!). I hope you wouldn't mind writing about a reader and North Yankton Trevor?? Like he's breaking into this bank or cash depo place and he sees reader. Bare in mind, he's got his mask on and stuff, but they make eye-contact, and reader was forced onto her knees by Brad and Mikey to rob the cash. But Trevor takes her aside and talks her up (she takes off his mask and falls in love), and soon enough, she's on her knees sucking him off??? IK THIS IS SO CRINGE BUT I NEEEEED

It feels so good writing again. THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST!

Summary: "I heard Stockholm syndrome is very nice at this time of the year."

TW: -Smut

Pairings: Fem!reader/Trevor Philips

Word count: 1965

“Fuck!”

You snapped your head around at the alarming cry of the security guard, who you had just about witnessed being ruthlessly shot in the head.

There were no words to describe the utter fear. Your hands lost it’s ability to grasp the credit card you were renewing, and oh boy, did you shriek at the appearance of three masked robbers who crashed through them double doors, guns firing at the ceiling. Everyone was forced on their knees with some sort of weapon against their head. You were one of them. It was all so sudden. You only went to renew your credit card date, now you were kneeling in front of this red-jacketed man who had this black mask covering his face – only showing his crystal blue eyes that were fuelled with… Pure coldness.

“Just shoot her in the fuckin’ head, M!” One of the stocky, average heighted criminal growled when noticing your liveliness.

“Woah, hey! We are robbin’ the place, we ain’t killin’.”

“Fuckin’ hurry up and help me then!” Your sights turned to this tall, lean guy who wore a green winters jacket and ski mask. He made eye-contact with you for a few strong seconds. He sensed your anxiety and his eyes squinted with delight.

He’s a sadist prick; your thoughts counted.

“Fuck… Fuck… Fine!” The gun was released from your head but that stocky guy threw you against the wall with the others. He was guarding the hostages while the other two were pestering the money from behind the counters.

You held the credit card close to your hand, trying hard to hide it away from their hostile views. But the clear shame on your face was easy to read by that one guy who returned from the counter.

“Whatcha sweating for, sugar?” He purred and crouched down to pat everyone’s pockets. He was harsh with the men, groping them disturbingly and giggling at their yelps of pain. You grimaced when he properly violated their manhood’s with his fist until that red-jacketed guy pulled him back, protesting that “we are only robbin’ the joint” over and over again.

Then he reached you. His hands gently grazed your coat pockets before touching the back of your trousers. He thought there was nothing until his gloved fingers tugged the corner of your credit card and his eyes lit up with golden treasure.

“Ahhh… So you do have something.”

“No, no. C’mon, please! – “ You were shut up when his hand covered your mouth.

“Easy does it. Just gimme it, gorgeous. I ain’t gonna hurt you.” His voice was thick with a taint of Northern background, presumably Canadian. His brown eyes glistened through the mask as you tried to avoid staring, but that hand over your mouth kept you steady and inches away from his own face.

“T, come on!”

“Yeah, yeah, Mikey. Load the fuckin’ bags, I need to get this chicks credit card.” He grumbled back to his friend who began stuffing the black duffle bags with the loads of cash they had just robbed.

“Don’t do this, please. I need this money!” You tried to convince with pleading eyes.

“Listen, babe, we are all thirsty for the green in here. How about you gimme that card… And I’ll throw a stack your way. Hm?”

“No, no… I need this card.”

His mask scrunched up with disgust.

“Did ya hear me, princess… I offered you cash and you’re refusing?”

“I know you’re lying,” You muffled through his hand, “You won’t give me anything.”

“I see where you get that idea from, sugar.” The criminal cackled and released his hand from your mouth. He grabbed your wrists and forced you up as the others looked confused.

“T, bro, c’mon! Stick to the plan!”

“Gimme a few minutes.”

“The fuck is he doing?” The stocky guy hushed in an agitated tone, watching his buddy urge you behind the counter where he closed the door, turning around.

You were standing face to face with this masked criminal. Bewilderment startled you greatly. You continued to hear the other guys mutter curses at each other, the bags being ruffled and stuffed still with the trays of green notes.

“What – “

“Listen… Sugartits,” He began, “I couldn’t let a pretty girl, such as yourself, be scared shitless. It’s not my jam.”

Yet he was acting like he didn’t laugh at your misery no less than 10 minutes ago.

“But I do need that card. It’s a cruel world, but I need it more than you.”

“Excuse me?” You frowned and clenched the credit card tighter in your palm.

“I’ll excuse you if you give in.” Returned his snarky backtalk.

“No.”

“C’mon, sugar. I ain’t the guy to anger.”

“I ain’t the girl to rob.”

His eyes narrowed through the mask, “You’re beginning to piss me the fuck off… I don’t wanna, but if you carry on, I might have to finish the job and blow two fine bullets in that pretty face of yours. And I mean it.”

You glanced away with intimidation and nodded with obedience. Staring down at his muddy shoes, you noticed he had stepped closer, striking your attention once again.

“Can I have the credit card?” He’d ask in a calmer tone.

There wasn’t any choice after his threat, so you extended your hand unwillingly. The way his smile widened and he snatched it within seconds. You were left empty-handed before he turned his back, leaving you defeated.

The guy went to return to the guys, his hand hovering over the door handle until his back flunked and he threw his head back with a painful sigh. You’d frown at this confusing gesture. He was breathing heavily – words not spoken, silence defeating his harsh breaths.

“What… Is wrong?” Hesitantly, you slowly used your tongue.

He turned his head slightly so you could see his scowl. You made eye-contact again, but this time, he kept it.

“What’s your name?”

Blood flushed throughout your body with undying nerves. This interrogation felt scarier than his mugging.

“[y/n].”

“[y/n]?” You nodded your head as he continued, “Well, [y/n], I trust you to keep your lips sealed.”

“I have no choice.”

“You are correct.”

Silence again.

“Hey, [y/n]…”

“Yes?” You nervously uttered.

“Ignore the other cunts. They ain’t all that.”

“Ah… Okay…” Despite them all robbing the bank, that was an unusual remark to make in such a heavy situation. Like he wasn’t one of them.

The man continued to stand there, analysing you. He held your credit card in his stiff, gloved fingers before he moved from the door and returned to your front. You had to look up due to height difference. You watched as he slowly took off his mask to reveal a very mattered, scrawny face.

Scars caking his eyebrows and dry lips, nose reddened due to the cold weather. He had this messy mullet that was thrown into a natural mohawk from the way his mask had ruffled the strands thoroughly. Now you could see his expression closely. He didn’t look angry, nor happy. He seemed more sceptical. You caught a glimpse of paranoia from the way he refused to leave your sight.

“Hi…” Then his lips curled into a smug grin. Maybe your evaluations were… Obvious.

“Hey.” You returned the small talk to escape the embarrassment.

“You are weirdly calm even though I just robbed you.”

“I know.”

He raised an eyebrow and gazed down to your quivering lips.

“Are you scared?” His voice hallow, excited.

“As any other person would be.”

“Oh, but you are keeping yourself together well, babe.”

“Don’t call me that.” You whispered.

“Touchy; I like it.” He was enjoying this taunting banter, his face enclosing near yours.

“What do you want?”

“I already got what I want… Now it’s just… You and me.” His breath tickled your forehead.

You sucked in your lips until he pressed you against the cloudy glass, his nose inches away from yours. It was a rather playful push, his hands cuddling your hips. The rush made you gasp out a small giggle in which he smiled.

“I like your laugh.”

You tried to slap yourself back into reality. He was holding you hostage… He was holding you hostage… He was holding you hostage. He’s a robber, a thief, and crimin –

And he lowered you down by your shoulders.

Legs so weak, eyes never leaving his. You fell to your knees and just accepted this weird attraction to this dirty stranger.

“That’s right.” He praised, throwing off his belt and lifting up his winter coat to expose the hem of his pants. That bastard’s so smug at your acceptance and easiness.

“You’re a naughty chick, ain’t you?” He’d consistently murmur as your hands dragged down his underwear, exposing the bulge that sprung to it’s erection. You peered up to see his reaction, finding his alertness in case his so-called “buddies” would disturb this intimate exchange.

So wasting no time, you stroked the tip and fully took his length into the palm of your shaky hands.

You didn’t even know his name! And you’re giving him a vicious reward for ROBBING you. It took you by surprise.

“Your clinical insanity is contagious.” Was the last thing you spat before leaning closer and smothering your lips around the throbbing cock.

You heard him huff at your snappy insult but yelped out a light moan at the sensation of your coiled tongue streaming saliva down him. The criminal thrusted his hips into your gullet, grinning whenever you’d make a weak noise. He was racing his own pace and held a hand on the back of your head.

“Fuck…” He moaned.

Your knees were numb yet it was dangerously enjoyable. You synced with his own euphemism and began to compete against his wanted pace. You edged, toyed, teased him with that slimy tongue. He bonded his sensitivity and soon enough, he didn’t care how loud he was. His dick wouldn’t stop pulsing as you sucked him hard.

“I- I think we’re made… For each other!” Whimpered his clumsily lips that bellowed lack of sincerity. He was definitely loco.

The background noise of duffel bags had stopped, and as much as you wanted to dismiss sucking this guys dick, it was too addictive. You fell into his hands easily and rocked inwards and outwards so his full length would get the equal attention.

“I needed this, fuck me!”

Your hands teasingly stroked his balls until his legs were threatening to hold his body weight. Unlike before, he was now the one leaning for security. He used you as a human flesh-light, cuddling every ounce of surface in your mouth before the climax came faster than he was warned.

The cock shivered, triggering a seedy orgasm that you were forced to swallow by the grip in your hair.

He was severally wrecked from the orgasm – not at all the man you once feared, which was less than an hour ago.

“Fuuucccckkkk!” He’d moan and shake off the remaining cum onto your tongue. And you didn’t fail to saviour every serving.

His hands stroked your hair as a comforting manner. You had almost forgotten about the current crime you were involved with, but before you could react, he already zipped himself up and gave you a cheeky wink. His cheeks were flushed, eyes glassy from the climax. He threw his mask back on and gave you a playful slap on the shoulder.

“The names Trevor, sugar. Dream of me.”

He rushed out of the room where the outrageous cries of his friends echoed. Statements such as; “are you nuts?” and “you took long enough” was the last of their identities before the room went silent, only the distant sobs of unfortunate hostages who were… Well… Unworthy of any special treatment.

[midorisudachi]

“The Inquisitor And Her Commander”

As some of you may have noticed, I am a huge fan of the Dragon Age games, especially Dragon Age Inquisition. Last year, I had planned on drawing all the main [playable] characters up until Dragon Age Day (which took place on December 4th), but I just didn’t have time to draw more than three characters (the Inquisitor, Solas, & Varric…please check them out in my gallery) due to being busy with work and other things. I’ll eventually draw the other characters when I gather more motivation to do so.

For now, please enjoy this piece. I hope everybody likes this. I worked very hard on this artwork. It took longer than usual to create, due to all the small details, the poses, & the armour. (Armour is not easy to draw for me!) For those of you who are DAI fans, you may recognize the flowers: Crystal Grace on the bottom and Andraste’s Grace on the top. I know Andraste’s Grace is not in DAI, but I thought it would be pretty to add to the artwork (since it technically exists in the Thedas world).

 My OC Inquisitor is named Bryony Trevelyan. She is actually my 2nd Inquisitor character, the first one having been an elf (which I may draw someday). I had been playing DAI for the 3rd time, a few months ago, as a male character (since I wanted him to be in a romance with Dorian, so yes, my male Inquisitor is gay), but I stopped for a bit since I am playing Skyrim at the moment (with updates & mods). Anyway, back on the main subject: I drew Inquisitor Bryony Trevelyan in the Armor of the Dragon Hunter outfit (from the Jaws of Hakkon DLC), which I had altered the colours by tinting it with Veil Quartz. I based her crown from concept art for DAI. So much armour in the game! Which I love, especially since the DA games don’t give female characters the stereotypical skimpy outfits…I love that I get to make my female characters wear bad-ass armour.

Cullen Rutherford is such an adorable and slightly awkward character around my Inquisitor. I knew I had to romance him right away, because his looks are the type of man I am attracted to in real life. (I’m not going to lie…in the game, he’s hot for a video game character. Ha ha!) I’ve always enjoyed the flirting in the DA games when it comes to the relationships. The best scene was right before their first kiss, when Cullen got interrupted by a member of the Inquisition, and then got mad about it. Ha ha. I liked when my Inquisitor asked Cullen, “The day you kissed me on the battlements…how long had you wanted to do that?” And Cullen replied (with a laugh), “Longer that I should admit.” Awwwww.

I also liked the part in the Winter Palace, when all these people were flirting with Cullen, and one asked him, “Are you married, Commander?” And Cullen replied, “Not yet, but I am…already taken.” Double awwww, because a loyal man is so dreamy. :3 I actually had Bryony & Cullen get married in the last DLC. :3 They adopt a Mabari (dog), too!

I love DAI too much. :D It’s such a fun game with the most gorgeous graphics (especially on the Xbox Series X).

Drawn with Sakura Pigma Micron pens, then coloured in with a mixture of Copic Markers & Ohuhu Markers. I used Koi Watercolours for the background. White accents done with both a gel pen and white watercolour. Gold acrylic was used for the Inquisition Symbol & the lines, which the scanner absolutely murders...the gold is such a pretty, shimmery metallic in real life. The light green around my art was done in Photoshop Elements.

Dragon Age Inquisition © Bioware & Electronic Arts

Fan artwork © Jacqueline E. McNeese