#this might be a hot take but this is Real Life let's not talk about the Dramatic Irony or the Narrative. that's some freak shit

[dabingusbongus]

A trip to the farmers market. Got some ice cream, looked at chickens that I wanted to pick up but knew I shouldn't (and didn't) fed some goats and climbed to the top of the playground structure ( ? it had a tractor built into it idk what to call it.) then slid down the lil slide which was fun! Until I landed my bare legs on the boiling black plastic they had at the bottom of the slide sending me flinging myself into the grass.

The nice part about this moment was that realization that I didn't feel embarrassed. Even though I was a bit of a spectacle for parents and kids alike who where walking around. I even laughed about it while laying in the grass, covering my face with my straw hat. I got up. I stayed, and I sat in the sun for a long time after listening to music/relaxing. It makes me realize I have changed as a person. There was a time where something like that would've left me inconsolable, I would've walked away feeling ashamed. Locking myself up in my room, isolating myself and being utterly humiliated by it all. Granted back then I wouldn't have even thought to go down the slide in the first place because of it being 'childish' for my age.

I'm thankful to have reached this point in my life. I'm so glad I'm still alive to have turned into the person I am now. That I still have so much life to live where I can have moments like this again

[waveridden]

interesting to see lots of mutuals reblogging the post that refers to the objectively gruesome and horrifying death of several people as "textually rich"

[omegapheromone]

Listen I don't normally post anything not safe for work/tumblr but I apparently just. Am having a really strong heat for seemingly no reason and basically my brain isn't working right and it's like... my own skin feels uncomfortable and my body is just. A mess really.

[riaki]

ur highschool bully gojo was chefs kiss 💋 what do u think about them going to the same college and taking the same classes?? and the reader sitting next/talking to some other guy and satoru gets jealous?? arwahhhshdhshshs so many possibilities, i hope u continue writing it!!

hi nonnie !! thank you so much :) this is ur official part 2 ! i was struggling to think up some possibilities but this helped a lot :oo | read part 1 here ! -> cw: swearing, jealousy, i let it get fic length oops

(former) highschoolbully!gojo on the brain again… like. when you end up seeing him again however many months later, and you can tell that he’s changed. it’s not like its immediately obvious to anyone who doesn’t really know him like you (used to); but he’s a little softer-spoken and his smiles seem nine times more genuine. it’s not a hundred percent; the kind that really lights up his face instead of just barely falling short of his stark blue eyes, but it's something.

of course, you have nothing to base it off of, because when you do inevitably see him again it's the very definition of meet ugly.

college is a new frontier, but its also a clean slate. its your first time going into something so new without your old bestfriend at your side, but some faint flickering thought reminds you that it might be better that way. but the universe is against you from the very first day, when youre gettin yourself some coffee from the same chain you did the morning of that fateful presentation so many moons ago. you're too busy thinking to yourself what kind of strange parting ritual it is to relive your trauma to notice the lanky, white-haired boy who hits his head on the chiming bell over the doorway. people are giggling around you n sighing dreamily but youre too deep in the music pumping through your headphones to notice and your eyes are glued to the class schedule on your phone, trying to ensure you dont get lost on the first day when—

you blink and your ass is flat on the dirty floor of the coffee shop, and the first thing you register is that your stomach is soaked and burning. you'd spilled your coffee. it takes you a moment to realize, but when you do you're pissed. so you quickly get to your feet, trying to reign in what little of your ego you have left to give the offender who bumped into you a piece of your mind as you look up, then..

how unlucky do you have to be?

just like that, satoru's slid himself back into your life, after ramming through its locked gates. you forget that he always forgets the point of keys, both when it comes to his apartment (which you still have the spare key of in case of emergencies), and the door to your heart. to rub salt in the wound, the only thing that's stained with your coffee order are his shoes, which look like they cost three weeks of your old job salary, but it's all over your shirt. of course it is. because why not? make it look like you tripped and fell into a patch of mud on your way to the lecture hall and tack on an unwelcome reunion with your ex-bestfriend.

to you, it's like the cloud of gloom from your highschool youth has resettled over your head like a swarm of gnats on a dreary, hot summer day. the stars always seem to skew and misalign themselves for you. but for satoru, the stars have handed him one of those huge swirly lollipops that you only ever see being paraded about by toddlers. he recovers almost instantly, trading the burn on his feet and the way it sours your expression like he's just squirted pure citric acid into your throat for a pleasant burn of his own on his cheeks. but it's whatever. girls seem to like it when he blushes, for some reason. he won't question it, if it works on the only one he cares about.

he holds his hand out, ready to help you out like the good samaritan he's become— and it's like a real burn to his heart this time when you ignore it and stand up on your own, refusing to look up and meet his pleading gaze. might as well have taken an iron stoker right out of the fire and jabbed him with it. but he's gojo satoru! he won't be defeated by this one mere, maybe very significant reunion. he's got stamina.

so he offers to buy you a new drink, feels his heart sink when you shake your head (can't even spare a little 'no' in his direction), and talks enough for the both of you when you leave the dingy little store make your way down to campus and the lecture building. you clearly don't want to see him, but he ignores that in exchange to notice the way you shiver every so often. the previously searing-hot coffee that stains your shirt turns cold fast, and moisture n wind don't mix well. he wishes he could offer you some of his own warm coffee, no doubt sickeningly sweet, but he has some sensitivity now, apparently. so, in a brash moment, he decides to take his blazer off and drape it over your shoulders instead.

when you cross the threshold between city and campus, you expect him to yank it off your back and be on his merry way. but he keeps walking next to you, so you walk a little faster, and you absolutely loathe the cheeky little grin that curves the corners of his lips up to show a glint of teeth when he effortlessly keeps up. you curse his long legs when you find yourself winded, but at least you can lose him when you get there.

or, that's what you think. once again, your constellations break themselves to rebuild anew for satoru. you're about to call him a stalker when he follows you all the way to your classroom with that smirk that's growing exponentially until— oh, no.

your phone that's been on the schedule up until now desperately scrolls to the roster— and there it is. he's in your class. needless to say, not another word goes between you as you stomp in and take a seat. luckily for you, you've already corresponded with your roommate's brother (who's annoyingly cute, satoru notices) and agreed to sit next to each other. satoru takes the seat right above you and never stops kicking his freakishly long legs against the wood the entire time.

so yeah, it's obvious he's not a saint; he still has that undoable ego and he's cocky as fuck (as you have the misfortune of finding out when he quickly bullies your professor), but there's a certain familiarity in that no matter how ugly it might appear to others. and if you asked (which he really, really hopes you will someday), he doesn't hang around douchebags who use kids' foreheads for ashtrays and treat girls like they're candy from a glittery pez dispenser. and at least he's switched harassment targets. even though he has an overwhelming sense of superiority over others and never has his lips together for more than five seconds, and even though he has this hellish habit of clicking his pen whenever he's not talking (or when someone else is), it seems like he's changed.

and over time, you gradually find yourself warming up to him. the spunkiness that used to get on your nerves ceaselessly becomes an object of endearment, and you don't really mind the way he never seems to stop moving anymore. it's a nice sort of distraction in the lifeless still of the lecture hall, albeit the pen clicking still drives you near insanity. you notice he always does it obnoxiously and quickly when you're talking to your roommate's brother, but you ignore it.

and for satoru? he hates that he can kinda sorta really tell that you're the only one who can read him like he's a damn book, cus you slowly start to soften up in the nostalgia of his presence like cold playdough between warm fingers that tell you he may have finally caught you again after letting you slip the first time. and he notices it. this time, he's determined not to let you be the one that got away again. but youre really giving him a shit time outta it with the way you constantly entertain the guy who always has his breath in your face.

yeah, he's got a cute face that's sunkissed by freckles. yeah, his hair looks like he models for shampoo companies. and fuck, he has a nice voice. but what of it? satoru's the one with the mesmerizing blue irises and the cloudy white hair your professor wishes he had instead of sad little wisps of old age. still, as chilly days turn into frigid weeks, he gets the perfect backseat angle of the growing relationship between the two of you. the boy's kinda dumb so you copy off of satoru’s work when you need to (he has to hide the 1-0 scoreboard between him and the guy on a sticky note from you when you take his notes), but said guy’s always buying you stuff and lending you erasers and laughing when you flick the shavings at the annoying girl who never stops whispering in the front of the room.

satoru tries to act unbothered, and he almost convinces everyone. including himself. but the angry, burning knot in his chest that's entirely different from coffee stains suggests something more. that should be him at your side. him, making balls of paper with rude scribbles and silly doodles to throw at the people he knows you don't like. him, surprising you with little gifts and the cheap trinkets he knows you adore so much instead of all the luxury things he could afford. there's no way this punk could possibly measure up to him, right? but at least you and satoru are well on your way to becoming friends again. not as close as you used to be, but it's something. substantial. and he's learned to be patient in the time you've been gone.

but he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't tired of it. he’s endlessly plagued with thoughts of increasing intensity— first, it starts out with just you. only you. the way he likes it. the way he likes your face, and your pretty eyes and your gorgeous lips and your soft hair and your figure and the complimenting clothes you wear. but it takes a turn; thoughts turn into dreams that turn into fantasies and he's lying when he says he doesn't enjoy them when he accidentally lets it slip during a group study session— and it’s all fine— but then, that guy appears. the brat who seems to sit a centimeter closer to you with each coming day. not only does he haunt satoru in real life, he’s tormenting his dreams, too. tainting the image of beautiful you.

needless to say, satoru starts to wake up with his hands gripping his damp pillow like he's choking it, acutely aware of the sweat sliding down his neck and over his chest as he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the dorm's air conditioner run and thinking of what it'd be like for dreams (the ones where he replaces the boy) to become reality.

it's a buildup. and soon, he reaches the apex; it's like a rollercoaster, that stomach-twisting moment when you reach the top of the rail that points to the steep descent downward. but this time, he hopes it's a thrill he gets instead of the usual falling fright; the one he got when he realized he’d slipped between your fingers in highschool.

and satoru finally comes to a grinding halt at the top of the ride one breezy fall day when he decides he wants you back in his life after you smile brightly at him and wave goodbye for the day. he’s tired of you having one foot in and one foot out of his heart; he wants, needs more. he always has, he realizes.

so he’s thinking about you and how to approach the feelings he’s realized during those long lectures, and one morning he comes up with some semblance of a plan when he’s high on the sugar from the fruit tea you bought him that morning. and he hopes that, by the end of it, he'll leave your apartment with your hand in his currently empty one, chilled with the remnants of cold condensation from the bottle.

soon enough, satoru finds himself extinguishing his nerves and raising a tense fist to knock on the door with nothing but the clothes on his back and a flimsy plan to ask you out on a midterm study sesh and maybe even a date, but he stops when he realizes it’s slightly ajar. a brief thought of what look might be on your face when he surprises you crosses his mind, so he lets himself in quietly, because he knows every single floorboard that creaks like the back of his palm from his childhood. he’s hit with a wave of warmth and an achingly familiar scent that twists at his heart, and your apartment is cozy and safe and it screams you and he thinks he catches sight of his jacket slung across the back of the couch in your living room, but he’s not sure so he takes a step forward and—

he’s greeted with the sight of that stupid guy with the nice hair and the freckles, and it makes his heart drop. but even worse, he’s kissing you and his arms are winding around your waist but you’re kissing him back with a slight hesitation that’s blinded to satoru by his shock and the fingers he thought would end up in his own tonight card through the boy’s hair and your lips glisten with the strawberry-kiwi flavored gloss he watched the boy give you a few days back and his world is turning red and he feels like his throat is constricting and he can’t breathe—

and he doesn’t even realize you’ve parted lips and you’re calling his name through the newfound tightness of his chest and the painful ringing in his ears thats even louder than any silence of a lecture hall, or the void that should’ve been filled with your voice during the time you were apart. but now satoru realizes he’d take that any fucking chance to have that again because it’s so much better than what he’s stuck with now. having you, but not really having you, because you’re there but you’re someone else’s and you’re not his and he isn’t yours. the best thing he could ever hope for was for you to own an article of his clothing and a piece of his shattered heart, broken into a million fragments. some cruel voice in his buzzing head reminds him to change the scoreboard to 0-100.

and he could buy you cheap hot coffee or earn your smiles from scrunched up paper balls or even hear your laugh with crude jokes, but there’s no point when he realizes he can’t buy you with caffeine or earn you with hitting the back of people’s heads with his bio notes or have you and your laugh all to himself anymore.

it’s almost pathetic, the way satoru’s voice cracks and changes. the look of unadulterated concern on the face of the boy who stole your lips just adds fuel to the fire.

“gojo? what are you doing here— hey, are you okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

he noticed you’d stopped calling him satoru a few weeks back. he should’ve seen it coming.

“huh? oh, yeah. i’m good. i think you’re the one hallucinating.”

he’d never told a bigger lie in his life.

satoru had left after excusing himself for intruding. how very unlike him to be so polite, you think.

so in the end, he leaves your apartment with something in his hand, after all. but it's not your own— just his blazer that you’d given back to him before he stepped out the door, taunting him with the faint scent of coffee and lingering perfume. his hope was foolish, so it seems. it’s too bad, he thinks. if it were him, he would’ve sandwiched you against your counter while he kissed. but it wasn’t. apparently, it was your turn for your stars to align at the price of his.

and so, gojo satoru, the boy force-turned man with a chipped ego and a completely broken heart, loses you again.

bonus bonus.. part 2….

[elllisaaa]

how about emo hot skater boy Jake with a massive dick energy and idk maybe like a kinda cocky reader who doesn't believe skater boy Jake is huge and he has to show the reader (who might be acting like a brat) what they're missing could be interesting

EMO SKATER!JAKE who's honestly kind of a loser when you really think about it. he's got his friend group and even if he's quite famous for his unconventional style, none of these people are really friends with him. he spends all his days either listening to music and trying to learn guitar, or skating and perfecting his tricks.

what is maddening is how hot he is despite all of that. you cannot help but stare at him every time you find yourself practicing at the skatepark at the same time as him. however, you don't want to let him know that you're kind of attracted to him. so instead, you always tease him about his style - even if it suits him perfectly - or the fact that he's probably still a virgin with a cocky smirk on your face.

jake usually puts up with your bratty attitude because he knows that what you say is not true, and because he's pretty sure you don't think a word of it. he might look like a loser but he's not an idiot - he can feel the way you're often staring at him. however the jokes about him being inexperienced are getting quite old.

"i'm probably the first girl you talked to in real life though, so i'm not surprised you're still a virgin." jake sighs as you grinned at him with a glint of mischief in your eyes, but he has had enough of your temperament. "actually, that's not what they all said when they saw how big i was baby." the pet name he always gives you and that made your skin hitch at the beginning is slowly growing on you, now making a shiver run down your spine. but you try to stay focused, even if the way jake is looking at you and licking his lips makes it hard to concentrate on forming coherent sentences. "pff ! you ? a big cock ? that's pretty hilarious at least, i have to give you that."

jake rolls his eyes at you, and you try not to move as he gets closer, but you still fall from your board. but the boy in front of you is quick to wrap an arm around your waist and save you from an unwanted meet up with the ground. jake takes this as an opportunity to let his lips brush against your cheek, his long, soft brown hair tickling your face he whispers in your ear : "maybe i should show you how huge i am if you still don't believe me. maybe you'll finally shut up once i got your tight pussy stretched open on my dick."

the air around you seems to thicken, and you cannot breathe properly anymore as jake starts to suck and lick your neck. heat rises to your face, both from his dirty proposal and his kisses that make arousal pool into your underwear. "so what now baby ? cat got your tongue ?" his condescending tone as he bites down on the flesh just under your jaw finally shakes you out of your slumber - even if you had to hold back a whimper the moment his teeth grazed your skin. "i bet you couldn't even make me cum, you're such a loser jake." - "bet darling."

that's how you found yourself in the backseat of his car, ass up in the air and face down buried into one of his sweater, his scent maybe driving even more insane than his actually very big cock thrusting into you at a rapid pace. "not so cocky now, uh ? all you needed was an inch of my dick to shut up." and you want to answer, you want to deny, but at this point, you're only able to moan and bite the inside of your cheeks to not let any more sounds slip past your lips. "fuck… you're such a whore y/n."

you feel jake leaning forward, one of his hands still gripping your hips tightly and the other clenching at the door of the car for some more leverage. his firm abs are pressed against the small of your back, and his hot stammered breath is crashing right against your ear - you feel overstimulated in the best way possible. "admit it now baby." - "n-no !" - "come on, you can feel how deep i am right ? you can feel how much i'm stretching out your tight little cunt, don't lie." but you still shake your head, choking on your words as you try to disagree again, instead cut by a loud moan when jake hits your sweet spot. you clench even tighter around him, and he cannot hold back the low, throaty groan slipping past his lips.

"you're so tight baby, must feel good to be this full." yes, it really does, but you don't want to admit it - as if the tears rolling down your cheeks and the way your lips are bleeding from biting them too much are not enough proof. "n-no, don't like it…" - "you're such a bad liar, y/n, it's pathetic." and then he resumes his rhythmic thrusts, hitting your sweet spot precisely each and every time, and it becomes way harder to hold back your noises. your fists close around the material of his hoodie, burying your face into his intoxicating scent in an attempt to drown out your whines. "j-jake… s-stop, i'm…" you have to mentally stop yourself from saying the words, but you can almost feel the way jake smirks against the skin of your neck that he's been biting and licking at. "what was that baby ? are you close ?" you shake your head no again, and jake's smirk is growing as he stops moving completely, cock sitting deep inside of you. "then i'll stop if you don't want to cum."

your reaction is immediate : you whine loudly when you feel him start to pull out, even more tears gathering in your eyes. "no, no, no, no ! jake, wait !" - "what is it now ?" your voice is quiet when you answer, but jake still hears it clearly : "wanna cum… please." the beg falling past your lips entices him into thrusting back into you full force and this time you don't even make an attempt at keeping your voice down, screaming out his name so loud that everyone in the parking lot must have heard you. "admit it, baby. say that i'm big and then i'll let you cum." you don't want to, but the way he's rutting his hips into you and driving you closer and closer to your orgasm is getting to your head, your mind fogged up by lust. "s-so big jake, so fucking big, feels so good… please, please…" - "now that's a good girl. cum."

the simple command is enough for you to let go, his name slipping past your lips again as you grip his cock even tighter, making it almost impossible for jake to move. but the way you become putty in his hands feels even better. what he loves the most though is the way you're too weak to push him away when he thrusts inside of you again, seeing your body visibly tremble as he starts to fuck you again. "i'm gonna give you my cum, make you even more full of me. maybe that'll keep your mouth shut a little longer baby." you hardly comprehend the meaning of his words, but you don't really care when jake is moaning about how good you're squeezing him, you don't really care when he quickly brings you to the brink of another orgasm. you don't really care because you know that you'll be teasing him again the next morning, hoping that he'll fuck you in the backseat of his car all over again.

[r3starttt]

SHOW ME HOW

Read this or DNI

virgin!reader x ellie williams

SUMMARY: you thought the love you felt for ellie was in a platonic way, but maybe deep inside you the answer was already there, just waiting for it to be revealed, in a dream that Ellie is willing to help you with.

CW: smut, virginity loss, pet names (pretty girl, babe, baby, good girl), first kiss, corruption, thigh riding.

It’s been aproximately ten years since you first met her, Ellie Williams, your best friend and the person your whole family adores probably as much as they adore you. The only one that knows everything about you, the one that brings your true self, the one that’s seen almost everything.

You’ve been friends since forever, best friends. The type to have sleepovers, to hug and hold hands, cuddle and be all the time together, do everything together. And of course people said things and thought things about it, about how close you were and how best friends don’t to that, but the answer you two gave was always “we’re like family” and it was credible, enough.

It wasn’t a lie though, or so you thought since it was her idea to give the answer. She’d come up with most of the plans, most responses, most of everything. Not because you never suggested anything but because she’s way more stubborn than you are and there’s no way she let you take the big decisions, there’s also no way at all that she takes no as a response and you’re the biggest people pleaser she’s ever known.

And again, it’s been years of friendship, years of seeing each other in all type of ways for many different reasons. Years of what seemed like endless nights of talking nonstop, or days even. Months when there was no school or job or anything to do but be with each other all the time unless Ellie had plans with other girls “friends” that she’ll end up bragging about later. So you knew everything about each other, you’d tell everything detailed, you trusted each other.

And she’d always assure you that everything she did with or for you was for the better, same applied for her, in different ways of course. She’s never been problematic or mean or anything like that, but she was the one to make you smoke and drink for the first time in your life. And you, you only made her listen to your boring music for hours or have the cute and boring plans as she calls them. But at the end of the day, is all fair, you both do what’s best for each other based on your different needs.

That’s why you love her so much, and until this week you’ve thought it was pure platonic love, the one that you feel for your family, and she’s family. But she changed everything, everyone said it’ll eventually happen, and you always, always prayed to god that It didn’t, you failed.

Ellie spoke for hours about this new girl she’d just met, something casual as usual, but apparently it stocked to you because later that day you had a dream about it. And it doesn’t really bother you to have a dream like that, not even because she’s in it, because it doesn’t mean anything right? But it felt too good and too real to forget or ignore or let go. And the more you think about it, the more you keep feeling like it might actually mean something.

Because she was in fact hot, attractive in all possible ways, and she’s not just hot but also pretty, delicate in her way. She’s smart and sweet and knows you incredibly good, and she’s always supportive. And she shows she cares about you, even when she’s all awkward and shy about it she’d do anything to let you know she cares about you as much as you care about her.

And there’s nothing else that you love more than that, and now probably nobody else that can make you feel it, you won’t let anyone else try to fill that space. It’s just not the same even if you tried. It’s not Ellie.

So now that you’re currently at her house in her bed, cuddling, you’ve been thinking about this while situation, how to address it without being awkward for you and without being too explicit as well.

She doesn’t mind it, she knows you’ve had thoughts like this about girls before, but you’ve never done anything romantic with anyone before. Not even kissed anyone or hold hands, nothing. Not because you’re innocent or afraid but because you haven’t found someone worth your first experiences.

“What’re you thinking ‘bout?” you can feel her hands rubbing circles on your back as she speaks, suddenly stopping and letting go of her phone, making you groan. You’ve been watching random shit in her phone for hours, trying to keep her busy from reading you. “Nothing” your hands move unconsciously tighter around her, pressing the side of her stomach and making you feel the small laugh that your very fake ‘nothing’ had elicited in her.

“You’ve been zoning out, I thought you wanted to sleep but you’re clearly not tired, so” she let go of you, slowly readjusting herself on the bed so that she could properly rest her back on the headboard “what is it? Mhm?”

“It’s something sex related, you know it’s all awkward f’ me el” you shifted your eyes towards her half leaded ones, furrowing at her corky smile “see? you’re already laughing at me and I-“ your voices overlapped, making you stop talking first “You gotta find yourself a boy or girl or whatever. If you keep hoping for the one worth your body then you’re gonna fucking lose your mind” little does she know, you thought, laughing at her comment and motioning your hand as in a silent ‘forget it’

“I mean it” Ellie spoke again, clearly determined to make you speak “It’s your fault, maybe if you stopped telling me every detail of all the girls you ‘relieve stress’ with then I would keep being an innocent girl” you positioned your hands together, as if you were praying. Now sitting in front of her.

You stopped the moment she hit your arm, rolling your eyes “You have no innocence in your body, you’ve always been a fucking mess, specially with people” before you could say anything about it she spoke again “Tell me, you know I don’t care” she shrugged her shoulders, making a small pout. She looked particularly pretty today.

“Did you do something today? y’ look different” Ellie rolled her eyes, letting out a exaggerated groan “eyeliner maybe, now stop avoiding and tell me about whatever wet dream you had now” yup, there she was, best friend that knows everything. And the stupid friend that besides being people pleaser knows shit about lying.

“I fucking hate you” a pillow thrown by you made her open her eyes again, chuckling at how obvious you were. “remember what you told me the weekend? I dreamt about it… but you were there and it felt wrong” you mumbled the last words, audible enough for Ellie to understand. She didn’t care, neither did you, well, you tried not to care much. But your body reacted before your mind would let you do anything so you felt already sweating and practically burning. And again, she knew and she noticed, but didn’t care.

“Why? didn’t I fuck you good enough? I’m not worth your body either?” Ellie’s characteristic sheepish smile formed on her face as she got closer to you, leaning on her elbows and tilting her head, mocking you. “I’m not gonna give you details, I’m just saying I feel wrong… it doesn’t mean anything but-“ “it means something, don’t be a pussy and accept you might feel like fucking your best friend”

Hearing the words out loud was less frightening than you would expect, maybe it was Ellie’s voice but the idea wasn’t as disgusting as you felt it was. Not wrong either.

“Stop it, alright? you know I would never” her eyes felt like they were piercing your body, like they could read your mind, like she could eat you alive any moment. And the closer she moved to you the more stupid you felt “Ellie, please” you tried pushing her away once she was practically on top of you, she was playing of course, and she would stop. “You seem to like it, tell me what you dreamt of, Mhm?” Or maybe she meant it this time.

You weren’t sure what to do or say, she’s never played like this with you, and you’ve never even kissed anyone. Yet before you could try anything she laughed. Her hands were pressed on top of yours, sinking in the mattress along your bodies. And her face was so close to yours her mocking laugh brushed your cheeks. You were craving her now.

She let go of you, resting her body against the headboard again and shifting her eyes towards the sides of the bed, looking for an empty space on the wooden tables to place her phone. “Come here” her hands patted her lap, spreading her legs to make some space for you.

And so you did, crawling to her lap and sitting comfortably on it, positioning your legs in between hers. Ellie’s hands slowly cupped your face “I’m doing my job as a friend, this doesn’t count if you don’t want it too, yeah?” a small laugh brushed her lips, mocking your noticeable lost eyes that were wandering all over her face, from her eyes to her lips as she spoke.

She’d made a mess out of you already, without even touching you. But her tenderness, her voice, her body, the way she felt snd smell, everything had a specific effect on you that had been hiding for a long while. It was like drinking for the first time.

Her lips pressed on yours, it was a tender kiss, sweet and gentle. It didn’t last long “it’s okay, it’s only natural baby” her hands moved from your face to your thighs, caressing every inch of them in the most delicate way ever. Nothing you could ever imagine on your own.

So you kissed her again, now with an idea of what to do but letting her guide your every moves. Her tongue eventually got involved as well, dancing with yours and filling your mouth with the most delicious motions ever. Again, nothing you could ever imagine in your own.

You could feel the heat and wetness increase in between your legs, ashamed for getting like this so fast but too focused on Ellie’s body to actually care. She purposely lifted the leg you were sitting on, shaking it the moment she felt her knee against your cunt. “You can move… it’s alright” she mumbled in between kisses, leading your waist with her hands so you could grind on her.

You knew what she liked, based on everything she’d told you before, so you did what you could, moaning on her mouth as she liked it, and letting her guide you as well. You added pressure on your own, riding her leg practically, gently jumping on it whenever you felt like you needed more.

“Yeah, just like that baby. You’re doing so good” her hands tucked your dress on your panties, right above your waist so you could move freely. Then she pushed you closer, making you rest your head on her neck. And you took the chance to do something you’ve dreamt of, tasting it and leaving marks on it along wet kisses that kept making her as wet as you.

You could hear her small whines in your ear every time your kisses an grinding combined, she could cum just by your touch, and so could you. But what was the fun in that?

“What did you dream?” her hands moved back to your ass, guiding it over her thigh, slowly. “Uhm…f-fuck” you couldn’t speak properly, too focused on the sensation “your fingers” you managed to say. It was pathetic for both, to be enjoying this so much. It didn’t feel right, but it didn’t count right?

“That all?” you shocked your head, feeling a knot of pleasure forming on your stomach and your legs getting weaker at every movement Ellie guide your body to do. “I was…on my knees” too shy to say the words out loud you gulped, hoping she’d understand “yeah? what happened first?” The grip on you tightened the moment she noticed you getting closer to your climax, making every move painfully slower “Y-Your fingers… please”

“What a good girl, already begging” her hands grabbed your waist, tight enough to make you stop “take it off, I need to see you whole or I won’t do anything” she gripped your dress as she spoke, pulling the hem of it. You hesitated before doing it, this was new for you, and for the first time ever you felt genuinely innocent with her, so dumb and ashamed of yourself.

Her lips took you out of trance, pressing them on your temple and murmuring something in between “it’s okay” kiss “you can” kiss “trust me” kiss “please baby, just let me see you” and now her eyes were in front of yours, she knew how to use the puppy eyes. You nodded, feeling Ellie’s hands slowly move to the back of your dress, unsipping it.

You stood on your knees, in between Ellie’s legs. You could feel your dress loosening as you heard the zip lowering down your body until it stopped at your lower back. You helped Ellie remove it, raising your arms so she could finally take it off, revealing your bare chest immediately, accompanied by your panties, that were removed as well.

Being completely naked in front of Ellie felt right, it didn’t count, this whole experience. But how you wish it did. The way her excitement is revealed by her eyes, wandering all over you and taking note of every mole, mark, anything that’s in your body and it’s usually unnoticed. Her eyes, her freckles, her hair, her touch and voice, all so gentle yet so hungry. She’s starving already, and you adore that.

Her breathing became erratic as how inviting you looked, she needed to touch you, to hear you and savour you whole.

Ellie tapped the sides of your waist, pushing you carefully and somehow not breaking eye contact. She need you but couldn’t get you as she wanted in her current position, so once she got you sitting in front of her, patiently waiting, she started to take her clothes off.

Being at her house, with you, she wasn’t wearing more than a hoodie she’s probably been wearing for days already. and her usual pair of boxers, already drenched under some black shorts. Ellie was quickly, motioning her hand once she finished so you could sit on her lap again.

You obeyed, sitting on her and waiting for her to instruct your movements again. Both her index and middle finger brushed your lips. You looked at her, furrowing your brows a little “open” Ellie murmured, opening her own mouth as well.

She slowly introduced them inside your mouth, unconsciously smiling at the pretty image in front of her. You took them in, brushing them with your tongue and covering them with your saliva. They moved in and out of your mouth, slowly. “good girl”

Her free hand was resting on your thigh, making small circles near your hip bone with her thumb. You wanted to move, you needed it, but the fear of making a mistake was bigger, it wouldn’t count though, but something inside you felt like it might.

Her fingers came out of your mouth, you noticed the string of saliva connecting them with your lips, letting out your tongue one las time to cut it. “You’re being so good f’ me baby” her voice came out slightly husky, breathing brushing your lips as she spoke.

Her hand trailed down your body until it came to your clit, massaging it painfully slowly and making you sigh in pleasure. She started slow, making small circles on it as her mouth kept occupied by your hardened nipples, her eyes kept fixated on you as she did her every move.

You tried pressing yourself on her, delicately coordinating your body to her motions and rubbing yourself against her fingers.

Her fingers stopped moving on your clit suddenly, moving now up and down your folds until she decided to finally let you have what you wanted, teasing your arousal by pressing the tip of her fingers right above it.

“Ellie…” you whimpered, desperately pressing yourself again her fingers. A ‘pop’ made you look down, realizing how badly she’d been covering both of your breasts with saliva “what baby?” her chin pressed in between them, looking straight into your eyes “I need you, I want you to fuck me” you begged, tightening your fists besides each side of your body, fully desperate “please”

“So pretty…asking for me” Ellie nodded, bringing your face closer to her as her fingers made their way inside you, motioning in and out of your aching cunt. She started slow and gentle, caressing your back until she heard those pretty moans you let out, and her name in small whimpers.

So she did it faster. And you did your job too, riding her fingers at some point eventually, the way they curved inside you, her knuckles hitting the outside of your cunt whenever she did it too hard and how deliciously she kept on rubbing your clit with her thumb. It was impossible for you to keep immobile.

“El, fuck…gonna cum” her smile widened, moving her face to your neck and leaving a tail of wet kisses on it, she murmured a ‘yeah?’ to which you nodded desperately, both increasing its movements until the pleasure became overwhelming, making you press you whole weight on Ellie as you got to your climax. Covering her whole hand in your juices.

“You made a mess pretty girl, mind me helping?” her fingers kept on moving some seconds after you came, abruptly removing them, eliciting a small whimper out of your lips.

You could feel your inner thighs covered in wet, she tried cleaning some of it with the rest of your thighs before moving her hand up your face again. You already knew what to do, licking them and flavoring your own taste.

She moved her face closer to yours as well, removing her fingers out of your mouth once you licked your juices off and pressing her lips on yours one last time “gotta clean you, yeah? you did good, just rest babe”

-

reblogs are very much welcomed <3

Check this !!! FREE PALESTINE

[lizthewriter]

messy / regina george

PAIRING  regina george x fem!reader

SUMMARY  you and regina have been secretly hooking up for months, but she breaks up with you when you ask for more. after she gets hit by a bus, you fear for her life and whatever relationship you have left.

TAGS  regina george x fem!reader, hurt/comfort, angst, happy ending, queer!, reneé rapp is so fine 😫😫, internalized homophobia, use of d-slur (lesbian slur)

QUOTE  "half of all my exes regret me, / but none of them will ever forget me, / loving me gets really messy," - messy by reneé rapp

WRITTEN  1.13.2024

WORD COUNT  1.3K

A/N everytime reneé showed up on screen, i literally started banging my fists against my seat because she SERVED CUNT!!!! SHE WAS SO FINE!!!! literally after the movie, my best friend said to me: "i think you're just gay. i think you're a woman kisser. you might just have a little fruit in your cup."

slammed up against the wall, you felt regina's teeth clash furiously against yours. it was all hot passion - how your lips ran feverishly against hers as though you'd never get to feel her touch again, the way her hands ran up and down the sides of your body as though she needed to memorize the shape of you. days the two of you had gone without a moment to yourselves. days you had spent fantasizing about her pressing you up against the wall. it wasn't that you didn't want a normal relationship. it wasn't that you didn't want to kiss and hold hands and go on cute dates, but . . . that wasn't regina's style. she was closeted. heavily. actually, you weren't sure that she even understood that making out with girls was perhaps the most gay thing she could do, but you were willing to take what you were given. it was regina george, after all.

she pulled away from you by biting gently down on your lip, letting go when she could no longer stretch it any longer. "god, you're so hot," she whispered with a smirk, unbuttoned the first two buttons of your shirt. she reclaimed the control she had over your body, pressing her lips to your collarbone. your hands somehow found their way to her beautiful blond locks, scraping her scalp with the sharp edge of your nails. fantasy was nothing like reality. you had forgotten how good it felt, but how terrible it was all at once. as her warm breath tickled your skin, doubts that had been haunting you the past few days filled your mind slowly. was this healthy? didn't you deserve a healthy queer relationship, one that would be open and free and full of love, real love?

you wanted it all. you wanted the life you saw other queer girls have all around the world. going on cute picnic dates with homeade muffins and favorite books, sitting in the lap of your partner and doing their makeup, snuggling on the couch while watching a movie. holding hands while strolling the town center. it was hard to keep these thoughts back any longer. they overflowed.

you felt regina freeze as you gently pushed her away from where she had latched onto your upper chest. "can we, um, talk?" you ask. she could hear the tone in your voice. you knew she could. the way her eyes met yours made your stomach twist with discomfort.

"talk?" she asked in an incredulous tone, pulling away.

"it's just that, well, hear me out first. i like you. i really like you, a lot! that's why i really want us to be more than . . . making out in the custodian's closet after school and sneaking into your room while your mom's asleep," you explained nervously, stumbling over your words. finally able to meet her eyes, all hope was shattered as you felt her icy stare fixed upon your flushed face.

"i thought we made a deal when we started this. nothing more than this." she barked out a bitter laugh and fluffed out her hair. "what, did you think i was some kind of dyke or something? this was supposed to be fun. nice job stamping out that fire." she opened the door to the closet and waltzed out like nothing had happened. as if you didn't spend the entire last three months building a bond. heart: broken.

-

fear couldn't describe the emotion you felt driving to the hospital. it was gut-wrenching, blood-curdling, heart-tearingly excruciating. the rumors swirling around made your sick with worry. could she really be dead?

you weren't there when it happened. you had been driving home and then doing homework, hiding your phone away in a drawer somewhere to keep you distracted. it wasn't until hours later that you checked your notifications to realize she had been admitted to the er.

you rushed into the hospital, demanding to hear about her condition.

"are you immediate family?" the nurse at the desk asked. of course you lied. of course you said yes. she gave you the room number and told you that you could wait in the hall - the doctors were talking with her mother and you would need to wait until she woke up herself.

when you arrived at the door to her room, you were afraid to look inside. you weren't sure why. she was alive, yes. maybe you were afraid she was still upset with you. or worse, she had amnesia and forgot about you completely. dejected, you collapsed into the very comfortable plastic chair next to her room.

a few minutes later, the door opened and the doctors and mrs. george exited the room. you stood up suddenly, expectant in your expression.

"she's fine. she's going to heal 100%, she just needs to wear a corrective neck bracelet for several weeks," the doctors assured you. you could relax, just a little. they walked down the hall, chatting softly. mrs. george grinned at you - you had met before, of course, being introduced as one of regina'a friends.

"well, look who we have here! did you hear the news? they said my name on the evening," she told you excitedly, as though her daughter weren't stuck in the hospital from injuries resulting for being hit. by a bus. "head on in darling, those cute boys said she'd be awake soon." her eyes trailed down the hall to the two doctors that had revived regina. with a mini-wave and a "toodle-doo!" she was down the hall and full on flirting with men much younger than herself.

the doorknob to regina's room stared back at you with intimidation so strong you almost turned around and drove home. you reached out a closed your hand around the cool metal, slowly turning it until you were passing through the doorway and standing feet away from her bed. it didn't feel as scary as you thought, entering her room, staring over at her bed. she looked more at peace then you had ever seen her, she looked prettier than you had ever seen her. without her mean-girl face, she seemed a lot more genuine. a lot more like the regina that opened up to you that one chilly night in december.

you silently pulled a chair next to her bed and sat there, waiting for her to wake up. you didn't mind the wait, in a way. because she was sitting there next to you, and she was going to be okay.

when regina awoke, she seemed more confused than anything. her brows furrowed as she looked around the room, her eyes finally landing on you.

"hey," you said all of a sudden, sitting up straight. "you're okay, you're fine. you're . . . in the hospital."

"what are you doing here?" not snappy or bitter or angry. genuine.

"i heard you got hit by a bus," you said, biting your bottom lip anxiously. would she yell at you? tell you she never wanted to see you again? "i heard . . . i you died. i just had to see for myself, to make sure you were okay. i'm sorry, if you don't want me here, i'll -"

"don't leave!" she shouted, grabbing your hand. you stared down at the place where her skin met your hand. this wasn't happening. this couldn't be happening. her fingers intertwined with yours and you find her eyes to be pleading you. "please, just don't leave."

"regina -"

"just shut up and listen, okay?" she told you, sounding upset, but it didn't seem to be an emotion she was directing towards you. you sat back down and scooted your chair closer to her. "i want us to be something more too . . . okay? i like you, loser."

you narrowed your eyes at her. "is this regina george trying to be nice?" you asked dubiously.

"don't ruin the moment or i'm taking everything i said back."

"no," you said quickly, shaking your head with a smile. you placed your other hand on the one clasped in hers. "it's a good look on you. really."

[luvyeni]

RED STRING THEORY ,, 이동혁

pairings ‎⸝⸝⸝ lee haechan x fem!reader wc. 2k

genre. smut, soulmate au (?)

🦢◞ includes ... making out, oral sex ( male receiving ), unprotected sex

「 authors note 𖹭 」 this idea has been sitting in my notes since 2023 but I could never think of how to write it.

❪ masterlist! ❫

all your friends loved to say you and donghyuck are soulmates; tied together by a red invisible string, that you're destined to be together much like in your other lives— maybe that was true, and you did actually care for the boy in a another universe or timeline… but you knew for a fact in this time you wanted to wrap your hands around his—

“yn?” you were brought from your thoughts. “you okay?” you roommate yeji asked. “of course not the love of her life isn't here.” the irritating voice made your eye twitch. “you thinking of me baby?” lee donghyuck, haechan or your personal favorite jackass sat down next to you. “you know what yeah i was , i was thinking all about you”

everyone sitting at the lunch table stopped what they were doing. “seriously?” you hummed , nodding. “i told you guys she loved , tell me baby, what were you thinking about?” renjuns face turned in disgust. “i didn't consent to hearing your sex fantasy about haechan that you just had in public, might i add.” you turned to the boy , your hands resting on his shoulders, his eyes widened.

“i was thinking of taking my hand.” your friends watching, dragging your hand up his neck. “d-don't you think we should do this in private, not in front of our friends.” you started to squeeze. “i think she's trying to kill him.” jaemin whispered. “taking my hand , and squeezing , until your eyes pop.”

your friends erupted into laughter as you released the boy , he rubbed his neck. “yn i think you really scared him this time.” jeno said. “him? no.” you turned to the boy who was staring lovingly at you. “you see.” you rolled your eyes. “why can't you admit that you like me, love , make it easy for yourself?” everyone sighed knowing the rant he was about to go on. “we're perfect for each other.”

“yeah? how.” you said. “i'm hot and your hot , and it's obvious we were in love in our past lives,” he said. “haechan i’ve explained to you that the invisible string theory isn't real.” you argued back. “yeah how would i know about the birth mark on your lower back?” he did have a point , it was too low for anyone to see. “yeah how does he know that?” yeji asked. “because he's a creep that's why.” you stood up , needing to leave for your next class. “or maybe in our past lives our favorite position was doggy style , i couldn't forget that even in a new life.” he smirked, you shook your head. “i'm going to class.”

the boy followed behind you; sadly you had the same classes. “we're even in the same class.” he sat down next to you. “yeah and im still not sure if you did that on purpose.” the professor walked in before he could say something. “god heard my prayers.”

“there's a new project due , 30% of your grade for this semester.” you groaned , you hated projects. “let's do it together.” haechan said, he knew you were serious about school so he never bothered you during class , he actually never bothered you unless he knew it would stress you out. “why would i torture myself in such a manor?” he smiled. “I love our little talks.” you shook your head , standing up. “goodbye donghyuck.”

“wait yn, i'm serious,” he said. “you know me and you are the best in this class, we'll sure get an A on this.” you kissed your teeth, you hated when hebwas right, he loved to fuck around , but when it came to his work he was serious. “fine.” his eyes widened. “seriously?”

“yeah , let's go.” he quickly gathered his things. “you can't take it back now.” you rolled your eyes. “let's go.” he nodded. “back to your place?” you saw the smirk on his face. “yeji is home , and hell will freeze over before i ever come over to your house of horrors.” you walked away, he followed behind. “so that means there's a chance?”

“where are you going?” you opened the door to yeji about to leave. “jaemin called me and told me he saw you both walking towards our dorm together, i thought he was high again.” she stopped. “we’re working on a project together, sadly beside me he's the only other smarter one in the class.” haechan smiled. “see she knows how to compliment me.”

“i told him you'd be here so he would start anything.” you said , “but it seems like you aren't.” yeji shook her head. “work, one of my co workers called off , if you want groceries for the next month , i have to leave now.” she said , walk right out the door. “see even the universe wants us together.”

“my bedroom, let's go.” you walked. “if you like to be in charge i'm down.” he followed you. “haechan you're here to help with the project.” you said flatly. “i know , i know don't worry , i'll sit down and listen.” he sat on your bed , you cringed. “oh im sorry would you like for me to take my clothes off for your comfort?” you sat down in your chair. “no , i can just change it when you leave.” he smirked. “how about i give you a better reason to change them.” you glared at him , even though this time , you let a little smile slip. “fine, fine let's do the project.” he threw his hands up. “thank you.” you turned around facing your laptop. “but i saw that smile.”

you both actually did get half of your project done; you closed your laptop turning around in your chair, sighing. “you did good , kept your word and actually got work done.” you praised the boy. “don't you think i deserve a reward.” he laid back on your bed. “you can get your things and go.” he faked laughed. “no one is here, you can drop the act that you hate me.” you raised your eyebrows. “you think this is an act?” he nodded. “i do.”

“why is that?” you questioned, he shrugged. “you invited me to your apartment , you never do that even if it's with the other guys.” he said, “you invited me into your room with no one else home.” he smirked. “you love me.”

“you're cocky , that's why i don't like you.” you scoffed. “i think that's what you like about me the most.” he winked. “i see the twinkle in your pretty eyes , you mean to tell me you don't believe the string theory even a little bit?” you stood up shaking your head , walking over to your door. “and with that , good night haechan.” you opened it , showing him out.

he stood up, walking over to you and the door; you thought he was about to leave , but he stopped in front of you. “haechan what are you…” before you could even finish it , he was closing the door , pushing you against it. “hyuck.” he smirked. “now i'm hyuck , what happened to donghyuck?” he grabbed your hips , pulling you flush against him. “pretending to hate me this entire time; when in reality you're just as horny for me as i am for you.”

he closed the already miniscule gap in between you both; your lips dancing with each other , bodies grinding against each other. “bed.” you sighed , he kept his mouth on as he guided you to your bed , pushing you down on the bed. “what happened to letting me be in charge?” you said breathlessly. “that was before , this is now.”

he climbed on the bed , laying against the headboard. “come.” you climbed into his lap , straddling him. “look at you so desperate , take your top off baby.” you lifted your arms up pulling the shirt over your head. “nice tits.” he winked, you rolled your eyes. “i wish i had a gag.” he hummed. “oh , really?” you nodded. “get on your knees , i got one for you.”

you would've rolled your eyes at his corny ass humor , but you were too horny; getting on your knees in front of him , he unbuckled his pants , lifting his hands up , pulling his pants down enough to let his cock free , bobbing against his stomach , tan skin; red and ready to be sucked. “you keep looking at it baby, how about putting that pretty mouth to use.”

you finally put your hand around his length , giving his tip a kiss , he hissed. “fuck.” he sighed , he must've been in some sort of sex dream , but he didn't want wake up if it was. “k-keep going.” if someone told you that you'd be doing this to lee haechan , in your bed, you would've assumed they were doing drugs. “fuuuuck , just like i imagined, keep sucking my cock love.” his head was thrown back against the headboard , his hip bucking up into your mouth , you gagged around him. “sorry love -fuck- i'm about to fucking cum.”

he was loud , if yeji was to come home or if any of the boys decided they want to remember the password to your door like they sometimes do; they would for sure be able to hear him at least. “fuck im cumming.”

you pulled off him , he groaned; wiping your mouth. “you came so much.” you coughed. “ and do you purposely eat pineapples or something?” your voice was scratchy. “could never be so sure,” he said. “freak.” you crawled back into his lap. “yeah , why are you grinding on me then?” you softly moaned. “go-good sex.” he scoffed. “how will you know if i never fucked you?”

“if you keep teasing you never will.” he didn't say anything else , pulling your panties to the side , grinding his hips up, rubbing his cock along your folds , his tip catching your clit. “fuck hyuck , put it in.” you lifted your hips, he held his cock right at your entrance. “sit on it baby.”

both of you moaned out as you felt him fill you out. “g-goddamn.” you hissed. “you're fucking big.” he smirked, you wanted to smack it right off of him. “i know love, -fuck- you've been missing out.” he cursed. “could've been bouncing on my cock almost two years ago , but instead you've been such a bitch to me.” he moaned.

he was holding your ass in his hand as you bounced on his cock , his mouth on your tips , sucking on your nipples. “fuck hyuck im gonna cum!” you gasped out , he pushed your hips down , fucking his hips up at a fast pace. “hyuck fuck!” you screamed. “fuck i'm gonna cum.” you gripped his hair. “oh fuck i love that , pull it again.”

you gripped his hair as you came around him , your cunt sucking him in , cumming. “shit love , im gonna fucking cum.” he held you down , thrusting a few times , before he came with a sigh. “sh-shit.” he had a dumb smile on his face , as he came down from one of the best highs he's ever had. “did i fuck you dumb?” he scoffed. “it takes a lot to fuck me dumb baby , pretty sure that would happen to you before me.” you rolled your eyes. “you wanna bet baby?” he flipped you over with a smirk. “you better hope yeji doesn't come back.”

…

“wait hold on.” renjun said. “you came onto him?” you rolled your eyes. “i’ve been chasing her this entire time , and this one time she got me alone.” you scoffed at the boy who had his arm around your shoulder. “it was the bed line wasn't it?” yeji spoke up. “what bed line.” you said , “no more questions.”

“so i guess you kinda have to believe in the red string theory now.” jaemin said. “yeah , it just took a little longer to work this time.” jeno followed. “come on love , just tell them , you believe it now , even just a bit it.” you thought for a bit , smiling.

“okay maybe i believe in the theory just a little bit.”

©LUVYENI

[petew21-blog]

Revenge possession, part 2

"So what is this game called again?" I asked out loud with Devon's voice.

Devon in the back of our mind:"Dead by daylight. You play either as a survivor or the killer. Depending on the role you have to escape or kill all the survivors."

I chuckled a bit:"You don't see how that's ironic?"

Devon was silent. "I'm so sorry, man. Jesus, I didn't think this through. Haha. Well... you should be good in this game right?"

Me:"Not really. I kinda didn't even know I was being hunted. Your parents just picked me up and then tortured me in the woods. I didn't have much of a chance to even run."

Devon:"Oh... I'm so sorry for that, man. My parents are horrible people."

Me:"Yeah. And I know they killed much more people than just me. That's why it needs to stop"

Devon:"So are you sure that killing them would be the best revenge for all these years of their murder spree?"

Me:"What else can I do? It's not like I had much of a choice. Few days ago I didn't even have a body. Now I co-share yours. Yeah, stealing their sons body is good revenge too, but you're a good person. And I don't want to take over your life."

Devon:"Not what I was aiming for. I honestly love having you here with me. You're like a second voice/brother/best friend inside of me. Oh shit. I just figured. I keep calling you bro. What's your real name?"

Me:"Paul. Took you long to ask, man. Not cool"

Devon:"Sorry, haha. So... Paul. You're like 40 now, right?"

Me:"I would be if your parents didn't kill me. But I died when I was 21 like you are now. So my mind basically stayed 21 I suppose. Except for roaming the country I didn't have much fun through all these years. These past few days as you, just chilling here, playing video games, jerking off and talking to you is the most fun I had over these 20 years."

Devon took control over his body to let go of the controler and to flex his biceps. The sweat hitting his nose.

Me:"What are you doing? I thought we were gonna play?"

Devon:"Nah, just reminding you what body you're in"

Devon:"Look at me man. I have beautiful abs, massive arms. These thighs could crush a melon between them. I appreciate that you picked me and that you like my body, but you gotta do something about this. We gotta go have fun. With another living being."

Me:"Devon... I really am happy how you treat me in your body, but... I don't think we have the same type of dating pool"

Devon:"I don't care whoever you fuck. I'm straight, or atleast I think I am, but very accepting. And if my man inside of me wants to fuck some handsome man, I will be more than happy to help you out. Bros gotta help each other"

Me:"But it's gonna be your body, man."

Devon:"So? You could do much worse with my body and you didn't. Getting fucked or fucking someone in the ass is not so bad."

Me:"Ok? So what place do you suggest?"

Devon:"Gym. We can show everyone what this body can do. Lot of people observe me there, so you can pick whoever you desire"

We arrived to the gym. So many hot and sexy people in sight. Devon took control to do his normal routine. It sucks that I could also have a body like this, but back in the day I wanted to see the world. I wanted to be myself in a world that hates my kind. Twenty years later, the world is so much more accepting. It's not ideal, but wow. How things gave changed

I still can't believe that Devon let's me stay in his body. I mean, look at him. He could be anything, have anyone. And yet this hot piece of meat is depressed with his easy life, being alone most of the time. I guess that's what happens when your serial killer parents move your family every now and then. You don't have any friends and those that you did might already be dead by their hand. How horrible... I honestly can't wait to see them. To look them in their face. With their son's face and to kill them. I hope Devon will forgive me. I know he says he wants to stop them, but it's his parents. I just have to make sure that he will not stop me when the time comes

Devon was just finishing up, when a cute twink approached us.

The guy:"Hey, I hope you don't mind that I was watching you"

Devon:"Nah, it's ok man. You need a hand with lifting?"

The guy smiled. "Oh I do need a hand, I just don't know If I asked the right person"

Devon sat down, looking all confused:"That depends if..."

I stopped Devon mid sentence. "I think that's a cue for me to take over, ok?"

Devon now in the back of my mind:"Sorry man, I usually don't respond to guys hitting on me. Go on. Have fun"

I smiled at the guy and casually finished the sentence

We headed to the showers. The owners must be probably sick with all these guys hooking up here. But we didn't care. We made out passionately. The twins was all over my muscles, as I would be in his place too. He was a bit smaller. That gave me a sense of dominating him.

I stopped and smiled at the guy. "I... just gotta let you know that I am a virgin"

Devon:"What!!! Dude, you never had sex with anyone?"

The guy looked at me from top to bottom. "You? If good looking people like you are virgins, then I have no idea how world works."

I chuckled nervously. It was true. I was 21 when I died, but back then it was much harder to date a find gay guy. Now you can just download Grindr and in a few minutes you got yourself a guy in your bedroom

Twink:"Well in that case we can go to your place and have some fun there. This isn't a very nice place to have your first time, don't you think"

I just smiled and nodded in approval

We were now in Devon's messy room. The guy was really shocked to see such a straight man cave, but didn't say a word. We made out. He took off my shirt soaked in sweat from gym. His lips now kissed my neck and went to over my pecs, down the middle to my waist band. He took my hard dick into his hand, squeezed hard and looked me deep into my eyes. His look was so full of lust, yet I could tell it was superficial. This guy isn't looking for romance. He just wants to be fucked hard. So let's give it to him

I took a bit of control of the moment. I grabbed him by the neck. Turned him around and pressed him against the wall. He was now moaning in pleasure as I was rubbing my hard dick hidden beneath the layers of my clothes against his ass. I was still holding him, choking him.

I pulled of my shorts and his just low enough to get my dick in there. I wanted to push it right in there. As hard as I could

Devon suddenly screamed out from the back of his mind:"Condom dude!!!"

I left the guy, moanjng against the wall, reaching out to the condom on the shelf. I was struggling to find which side to pick to put it on my dick

Twink:"Wait. Let me" it was obvious he jas done it a few times. The condor was on in a matters of seconds. "Do you have any lube?"

Devon intervened again:"Top drawer. Give him more attention, man. You're making it all about yourself"

"Shut up" I said out loud as a response to Devon, but the guy looked confused. "Oh sorry, not you. I'm just nervous. I have lube right here."

The guy went on Devon's bed on his back. His clothes were now gone and his ass was welcoming my dick. His legs wide open.

I pressed lightly my dick with a ridiculous ammount of lube on top.

It went smoothly so I tried to went all the way. This seemed to hurt the twins. "Hold your horses. I'm good, but not that good. A bit slower, cowboy."

I went in slowly. The pleasure got to Devon too. The way this guys ass was tight around the head of our dick was sending our minds to heaven.

I picked up the pace. The twink was moaning in pleasure and in pain at the same time. I grabbed him by the next to choke him. My other arm pressing his thigh.

Twink:"Harder!" I thought I was going as hard as possible, but I didn't think he could take it much more

Twink:"Harder!!!"

Devon:"Oh, jesus. Let me do it" Devon took over. I was in the back of our mind again. Still feeling everything.

Devon was like a beast, but the twink was really enjoying it.

I could feel all the cum building up. Ooh there's gonna be tons of cum.

Devon was biting his lower líp and furiously pounding this guy's ass. Sure, "Straight" my ass.

Devon:"I'm cumming!!!"

Twink:"Fill me! I want it all"

Devon shot out the stream of cum into the condom. The wave of pleasure was so overwhelming. So much, that I lost control for a moment. I didn't know what was happening.

I opened my eyes. Still as Devon. Good. But I was back in control. But I was alone here. I couldn't feel Devon

"DEVON?!?"

Twink:"Right here. You pushed my soul out of my body, dude. If the guy here wasn't as welcoming you would have me erased or something"

Me:"I'm so sorry. I didn't think that would happen."

Devon:"It's fine. This guy's soul is asleep or maybe gone? I don't know. But I can't hear him now. Dude! I could feel my body's orgasm and his orgasm at the same time. I can assure you, that this is definitely the best I'll ever feel. So overwhelming."

Me:"Shit, dude. We gotta figure out how to get you put of there. Or you might be stuck"

Devon:"What if we wait for a bit? I kinda wanna try having sex with my body."

Me:"Kinky. You wanna get pounded too?"

Devon:"Guess I'm not so straight anymore, right?"

After our first fucking session, Devon passed out from all the sex. We still didn't know where this guy's soul was, but we would figure that out soon. I was just happy that I was finally alive. And I even have a boyfriend now? If that's what I can call Devon. Not to put labels on our relationship or anything

I grabbed the first pair of shorts from the floor I could find. Still sweaty from the sex, I headed to the kitchen to get myself a drink of water.

I was interrupted by a dark figure in the corner of the room

"Hello, son"

I was full of rage. But I can't fuck it up now. If I kill him, I won't know where his mom is and that would take me another decade to find her.

"Hey, dad. How was your holiday"

"Oh wonderful. Rome is your mother's favourite place to visit"

I tried to act as much as possible. Devon was in his room in a wrong body, so that wouldn't help me.

"Did you go to Colosseum this time?"

"Oh, we sure did." The father responded. But in the matter of seconds his expression changed. He was now holding a gun pointed at me

"What are you doing, dad?!"

"Devon knows we went to Bahamas"

Fuck. So he knew all along that I'm not Devon. But how?

"Me and my wife found out that the folk like you, who want to have your revenge for what we did, come back as ghosts to make our lives a living hell."

"So I'm not the first one?"

"Hahaha. Of course you're not. The first one came when Devon was 2 years old. Of course he doesn't remember, but that was a nasty one. All the paranormal stuff. We didn't know what we were dealing with back then. But now, oh we are used to deal with you. But possessing Devon is a first. Some possessed us and tried to kill us, but obviously failed."

"How can you tell that I'm not him? Besides the question."

"Oh it's an aura thing. Once you have the experience and a good guidance, you can just tell when a soul isn't in their rightful place."

"Now, tell me. Did Devon put up a lot of fight? Your answer will change the course of your torture."

"Devon is ok. He's in the body of the guy downstairs. It was an accident"

"Sure it was. That would make sure that we couldn't kill you or him, right? We're not so stupid, mister. Although I will not enjoy killing my son, there is no other choice."

"If you kill me, I will go after you even more. I have for the past 20 years and I will even after you die. My soul will not rest until you burn in hell"

"Sure you can do that, but it will take you some time to get out of this thing."

He was holding a wooden object with symbols

"What is that thing?"

"That mister, is your prison. It will bind you inside, until it breaks, or someone opens it on purpose. Which happens rarely if you ask me."

"You're doing a big mistake. Devon is in his room in a different body. Let him atleast get his body back."

"I can't take that chance. Me and my wife have a life to live up to and we won't stop just because our son got himself in some trouble and can't handle it."

"It's your son! You would kill him just so you can continue your killing spree?"

"Oh, definitely. Having a child is a great thing, but taking a life. That's something you won't ever forget about. The control it gives you."

"You're sick. No parent would ever do this to their child"

From the hallway a second voice spoke:"Oh these two are a chatty couple, right honey? So chatty chatty. But we need to hurry up, so get on with this" the mother said towards her husband

I could feel a horrible pain in my chest. Feelings very similar to the ones I felt 20 years ago. This couple was killing me again

"Sorry Devon. We couldn't have done anything" father said

"Devon hates you too!" I screamed out

"You're talking too much" and then nothing.

I don't know for how long this continued. I don't even know what they did with Devon's beautiful body. How they got rid of it.

Soon I started to feel walls around me. Walls? As a ghost I wouldn't be able to. Except if this is their prison that they were talking about.

I opened my eyes. There was only darkness. Nothing else. I looked around and on the other side of my prison was someone sitting, crying.

I got up to approach this person. He looked up

It was Devon. He was crying

"Paul! They killed me. My own mother slit my throat. I told her it's me. But she just killed me and trapped me into thus thing."

"I'm so so sorry, Devon. I never wanted any of this. I wanted revenge for them. But they were ready. They knew. Your father didn't listen to me too. He didn't care. I told him about your soul. But they are more sadistic then I thought"

"Paul, I'm dead. My parents killed me. My OWN PARENTS!"

"Devon, they are horrible people. And we will get our lives back. Maybe not our old lives, but we will. But first we have to get out of here. We're gonna get through this together. Ok?"

Devon collapsed into my arms. I was just glad that I could hold someone even if I was a ghost now. We were gonna get out of here, but I had no idea how

Outside of the ghost trap, the world went by.

Devon's father held the trap tightly as he watched his old house burn. His wife held her head on his shoulder.

"Ahhh, I think I might miss Devon. He gave our life some order"

"He limited us. We couldn't ve ourselves all the time. Now we can. What do you say we go pick up some hitchhiker?"

"Ohhhh, that's a lovely idea. Get rid of that box, it gives me the creeps"

And as the two of them were laughing while leaving, the box was sinking deeply into the river below the bridge until some human would find it.

If Paul and Devon would know what was happening to then right now, they would be devastated.

[vlrspace]

inumaki never cared for girls in such way like crushes.

he never had the chance to, being a jujutsu sorcerer took up most of his time and he didn’t think that his vocabulary was all that appealing, talking only with onigiri ingredients is anything but attractive.

yet, he couldn’t stop his heart from beating out of his chest, when you joined the first years. sure, inumaki seen pretty girls before, but you are utterly beautiful, an angel sent from heaven in his opinion. your eyes are bright with glee and your whole body glows from happiness.

it doesn’t help that from the second inumaki was introduced to you, you’ve been giving him a hard time with the way you’re always look for him first during gatherings and call him ‘inumaki-senpai’ in every conversation. you never seem bothered by his lack of talking in real life, but always make sure to get his responses across correctly. you often tell him how much of a chatterbox he is in messages and it makes you happy that you can get to know him more, even if it isn’t with spoken words.

inumaki, however, longs to talk to you, the way you speak with others and have an actual conversation with you, instead of just writing out his thoughts.

“toge, are you okay?” panda’s voice drags him back to training, where all of his friends and gojo look at him curiously. it’s unusual for inumaki to be so quiet during training, he usually cheers on the others or declares winners.

out of habit, his violet eyes find yours and he freezes when he makes eye contact with him, a small grin grazing your lips as you tip your head to the side. inumaki feels his body going stiff, body growing hot from all the attention he’s getting, mainly from you.

“shake” he quietly mumbles, tearing his gaze away from you and instead, he wishes for the ground to swallow him.

panda and maki exchange knowing looks, the two have been aware of inumaki’s crush on you for quite some time now, often teasing the platinum haired male about it. they just don’t understand why inumaki hasn’t confessed to you yet, it’s obvious that you got something for the boy.

training continues on like nothing happened, if gojo picked up on why inumaki spaced out, thankfully he hasn’t voiced it out loud.

inumaki is itching to get away from you the second gojo let’s you guys go, feeling his heart break when you call out his name, as he runs back to his dorm room to get some closure. inumaki wants to be with you so badly, but the thoughts of being unable to properly communicate with you because of his stupid inherited curse technique makes him feel so self conscious.

he would rather suffer in silence with his possibly unrequited feelings, than have you suffer because of him.

inumaki can’t to keep his sniffles at bay, his destructive thoughts taking over, leaving him a miserable mess on his bed.

sleep brings him little peace, when all of his dreams are about you.

the next morning, it’s easy to pretend like nothing happened last night for inumaki. everyone greets him like usual at breakfast, but as he looks around, he quickly notes that neither you or nobara are present at the table.

“they’ve been sent out on an early mission last night, but they should be back by noon” maki responds to her friends unsaid question nonchalantly, but side eyes inumaki for his reaction. his shoulders visibly relax and only nods before grabbing a few sandwiches to eat.

true to maki’s word, you and nobara do return around noon, all exhausted and a little beaten up, though it’s nothing major. your friends are waiting for you at the entrance of jujutsu tech and inumaki feels his heart going wild in his chest, when you approach him with a huge grin on your face.

“i got this for you on our way back” your voice is filled with excitement as you hold a white plastic bag towards him and only him. “you seemed a little sad last night, i thought some tuna mayo onigiri might cheer you up” the last bit of your sentence is a little quieter and you don’t look at him anymore, instead your gaze is on the ground.

inumaki feels his whole body is lit on fire and takes your little gift, making the butterflies in his stomach doing flips from your sweet little gesture.

“sujiko” his tone is soft as he speaks to you and you lift your head to meet his eyes, looking at you with such tenderness, you think you could literally melt into a puddle. “shake” he nods with a gentle smile and you give him a toothy grin, both of your cheeks reddened.

the rest of your friends just stand around watching the two of you in vain, wishing upon all gods for the two of you to just confess already. though it seems like neither you or inumaki are bothered by their presence, as he he lifts a hand to cup your cheek with care, a little bruised and a cut slicing through your soft skin.

“takana?” inumaki asks quietly, his thumb swiping across the cut in a feather light touch and it makes your brain stop working for a second. unable to answer his question, you only shake your head while leaning into his warm touch.

inumaki’s lips make contact with your skin before neither of you can process it and your little bubble is nearly popped by the loud squealing noise of nobara and yuuji, but they are dragged away by panda and maki, megumi following quietly behind.

now that the two of you are alone, inumaki looks at you for any sign of discomfort because with that peck, he might’ve overstepped some boundaries, but when you step closer to him, he’s not sure how to feel.

“you ran away from me last night” your minty breath is on his lips as you look up at him with a pout. inumaki doesn’t have the chance to react because you continue on speaking. “i really like you inumaki, so tell me if you don’t feel the same because i feel like i’m going crazy” you whisper, need dripping off of your words and inumaki thinks your confession is a dream before smashing his lips against yours, the plastic dropping from his hand as he grabs your waist, pulling you closer to him.

your own hands sneak into his hair and you step on your tiptoes to return his kiss, which makes inumaki groan in turn. he’s been waiting to kiss you, to feel you this close for so long now and the thoughts he had last night immediately disappear from his mind as you pull away from him for a second before your plump lips find his again, this time your hands are on his face, pulling him closer to deepen your kiss.

you’re the first one to pull away finally to breathe and inumaki chases after your lips before pressing his forehead against yours, violet eyes finding yours filled with adoration.

“i like you” he lowly mumbles against your lips and your eyes widen at his words before you close them and tuck your face in the crook of his neck shyly, pressing a soft kiss there. “i like you” toge mumbles again, pressing a kiss into the crown of your hair as he hugged you closer to his chest.

@/vlrspace, 2023

[norrizzandpia]

this is about oscar? part 3 but its freak by doja cat 🙏🏻

I fear y/n has released an entire album this time lol @golden-flora

The Album (OP81)

Summary: She’s done singles, one song at a time about her and Oscar’s sex life, but, now, she’s ready for a whole album.

Warnings: dirtiest one of the series, sexual discussions, Oscar being cocky

Note: THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF THE WHO IS OSCAR PIASTRI SERIES IS HERE EVERYONE!!!! Hope you like it, i added some new things. First, as you know, y/n releases an album here, but, also, at the end, instead of smau, it’s just a regular story abt them on a podcast 🤭

y/nnn Oscar, the album, out tonight with a track list of Freak, Agora Hills, Dick, and Pussy Poppin 🤭

Comments:

Mclarensgirly SHE NAMED THE WHOLE THING OSCAR IM FUCKING CRYING

F1fan2023 using a photo McLaren took is cray

- y/nnn say it with me everyone: he looks hot!

- Mclarensgirly he looks hot!

- ln4andop81 he looks hot!

- f1fan81 he looks hot!

landonorris plz. plz don’t release it. I’ve never felt terror like this in my entire life after seeing that track list

- y/nnn don’t you put your life on the line every weekend to drive a car?

- landonorris yes.

oscarpiastri anyone want to come to the listening party?

- Danielricciardo no.

- landonorris absolutely fucking not

- logansargeant YOU THINK IM GOING TO BE LISTENING TO THESE???

- y/nnn y’all are some fake ass bitches

oscarpiastri haha have fun everyone!!!

- ln4andop81 mans is enjoying himself

- oscarpiastri more than enjoying myself

- landonorris like I’ll literally kill you

—

TWITTER

Mclarensgirly i would just like to say that this is the man all those songs are about

- ln4andop81 i mean she did say “tied him down to my queen bed” in freak so that pic does fit the sub allegations

- f1fan2023 she also said “love it when he hit and smack too” in agora hills

- Mclarensgirly also said “hold me down, when a hole need dick”

- f1fan81 also said “he want a quickie, let him lick me, then I started gasping. The way his tongue be going crazy, you wouldn’t imagine. I let him stick me, hair got frizzy, I might let him crash it”

- Mclarensgirly also said “He put that woo all down my throat until i started coughing.”

- ln4andop81 OKAY OKAY I GET IT 😭

- ln4andop81 but also like… lets talk abt it

- Mclarensgirly IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS

- f1fan2023 “he like it when i bend it over and i arch my back. He tap me on my shoulders, i said ‘yeah, i like that’” YOURE KIDDING.

- ln4andop81 i envision that in my head at night

- Mclarensgirly oh?

- ln4andop81 moving on! “Pull the panties to the side, watch a movie and make it two. We just finished number one, but I’m ready for round two” YUM.MY.

- F1fan81 sometimes i wonder if I’m jealous of Oscar or jealous of y/n

- Mclarensgirly real.

- ln4andop81 we also need to talk about Dick bc she literally goes “i met the boy in the 6, but measurements wasn’t a six” UHHHHHHH

- f1fan2023 it baffles me that he’s packing that seriously

- ln4andop81 nothing baffles me when it comes to that boy now that y/n sang “When I made a little mess on it, he told me to clean my act up” BRUHHHH THATS FUCKING HOT AS SHIT

- Mclarensgirly “Skirt up, fuck in the backseat. Take that shirt off, baby, put it on me. Got me like ‘yeehow’, ride it like a horsey. Kinda like seesaw, up and down on the D, give it to him” McLaren’s kicking and crying rn bc they know they cant take their car back from Oscar after y/n confirmed they christened it

- f1fan2023 okay okay but can we talk about “suck a little dick in the bathroom” in agora hills (slay song btw i ate that shit up)

- ln4andop81 YEAH BC IM GOING TO NEED SOME MORE INFO THAN THAT. WHEN. WHERE. WHAT.

- F1fan81 i bet your ass it was in the mtc

- ln4andop81 or in the Australian Grand Prix paddock remember when no one could find him after the face was over and all he said he was with y/n? SHE HAD TO HAVE BEEN GIVING HIM CELEBRATORY HEAD

- Mclarensgirly honestly? They prob did it in both

- oscarpiastri mhm

—

Oscar and Y/n sat next to each other on the soft sofa of the studio. They giggled with the podcast host as she said their introduction.

“Breaking the internet right now with their sex life, Oscar Piastri and Y/n Y/l/n! Hi, guys, welcome.” Samantha, the host, spoke to them.

Y/n and Oscar mumbled pleasantries, their legs squished together even with all the space to Y/n’s left. The woman was quick to getting into the topic of conversation, having already discussed boundaries with the couple before the cameras started rolling.

“So, Y/n, you’ve just released a small album that focuses mostly on Oscar and the things you two get up to in the bedroom. Were you ever nervous to share these songs with the world?”

Y/n nodded, “At first, yeah, all the way back when we started with 34+35, but it got easier once I saw the overwhelming support for it. I think the best part about releasing them is seeing the jokes that the fans make about Oscar and that side of him.”

Samantha smiled, “That leads me to my next question, Oscar, were you ever nervous to have people know about that side of you? Seeing as it was such a shocker.”

He laughed as he adjusted his position, throwing an arm around his girlfriend, “Um, well, I didn’t think it was that shocking. We didn’t expect people to go haywire over hearing that I lean more towards the dominant side. We kind of assumed people inferred that.”

Samantha’s jaw dropped, “Really?! Oh! I’ll be honest, I was quite surprised when I heard it.”

Y/n shook her head, “I don’t know, I guess the way Oscar is in front of cameras is drastically different from how he actually is. He’s still very soft spoken and quiet, but a bit more outgoing.”

Samantha nodded as she glanced over her next question, “Oscar, what’s your favorite song off this album?”

“Oh, I am so ready for this. Agora Hills.” He answered immediately, smiling proudly at the others in the room.

Y/n turned to look at him, “Really?! Why?!”

His head leaned from side to side, “Just, it’s more romantic? I mean, you talk about tying the knot alongside the sex stuff.”

Y/n and Samantha laugh at his comment, Samantha agreeing, “No, I see what you’re saying. Y/n, you do say you want to show him off multiple times throughout the song.”

“Because I do!” She exclaimed, leaning into her boyfriend lovingly.

He kissed her temple, listening intently to Samantha.

“Your interactions with the fans are hilarious. Do you guys look forward to fucking with them?”

“Hell yeah!” Oscar exclaimed, “Once I caught wind of the fact that they didn’t think I did shit in the bedroom, I became very obnoxious when rubbing what happens between Y/n and I in their faces.”

Y/n cooed jokingly, “Aw, Osc, was your masculinity damaged?”

He rolled his eyes at her, laughing at her dig and pushing her away softly. They came back together, though.

“Before we move on from this subject, I want to ask Y/n, was the over six inches comment really true?” Samantha eyed her as Y/n glanced beside her at Oscar, silently asking him if she could do what he knew she wanted to do.

He nodded at her, shaking his head lightly as she said, “A lady never kisses and tells.”

Silence passed as she raised her hands and aimed them around nine inches apart. Winking suggestively at the camera, the women in the room gasped.

“IS THAT NINE INCHES?!” Samantha screamed, causing all of them to fall into a fit of giggles.

Y/n brought the microphone to her mouth and whispered, “Oh, yeah, it is.”

[maxlarens]

I got a lot to say so it might be long,

starting with, thank you for the Charles smau and the Lando fic <3

it took me time to choose an emoji lol but I've been doing an internship and time goes by way too quickly, but I decided to go for the strawberry one 🍓

and since you said you wanted to write for driver! reader, and that she was very intense about driving, maybe you can write something about her racing while she's sick/not feeling well but she still wins the race

woo hi again!!! literally no big deal! i hope ur internship is going well, it’s awesome that you’re doing one!! but yeah literally real life is always the priority as much as i’d also like to spend all my time on here lol. but anyway yay the strawberry is super cute 🍓🥺

and YES lol driver!reader is consuming my thoughts right now. i have other things i should be writing instead of this but i smashed this out in a few days😭 i decided not to make it a win because i have a thing brewing for driver!readers first win and i didn’t want to use up all my ideas for that. anyway!!! as usual thank u for the ask and pls enjoyyy 🤗

OP: extraordinary machine

pairing(s): oscar piastri x mercedes driver!reader

summary: you push yourself to your limits. (also sorry i simply don't know enough technical terms about racing for this to be fully accurate but i hope it works)

word count: 3.4k+

Here is a fact— you’ve got a fever of 39.4 degrees.

Here is another, indisputable fact— you’re racing in Imola today.

The fever had come on overnight after a persistent tickle in your throat all weekend. A mildly sore throat had turned rapidly to a snotty nose, full body chills and sweat pouring off you like you’d just run a marathon. You’re wearing a puffer jacket over your racing suit and it’s twenty-nine degrees out. You feel freezing, you feel delirious, and you’re eating Sour Patch Kids by the handful to keep the sugar rush going. Your race engineer, Rachel, keeps telling you that it’s okay if you can’t race. George can step in, I promise. You keep telling her I’m fine. I’m fine. I can race. But the expression on her face says she doesn’t believe you.

You’re telling practically everyone who’ll listen that you’re getting in that fucking car today. Rachel, George, your mum who keeps calling. Lewis keeps looking at you like you’re about to keel over and die and you want to scream at him you did this! Brazil 2015. You had a fever. You got on the podium. If I can’t do this and you can, what does that mean? But you don’t because that’s your 39.4-degree fever talking and this isn’t about being better than Lewis. It’s about knowing without a doubt that you can still get in that car and race your ass off.

Your phone keeps buzzing with texts from Susie that reassure you that you’d be disappointing no one at all if you had to let George take over this race. You’re not letting down women everywhere and you’re not letting down the team. I know Susie, you keep saying, but I’m still racing.

You know you’ve got to convince Toto when Rachel starts a hurried conversation with George and he starts grabbing his fireproofs like it’s a sure thing he’ll be driving in your place. Bundled up in your coat like it’s the middle of winter, you stomp over to Toto’s office and barge in.

“I’m racing,” you tell him without any preamble.

His head snaps to look at you, expression only mildly surprised— not that you would even notice if you didn’t spend so much time around him. He gives you a once over, eyes lingering pointedly on your jacket and then he raises his eyebrows, “It is twenty-nine degrees outside.”

You suck your teeth in frustration, “I know. The car will be hot. I can race.”

He frowns.

You plead, “Toto. Do not take me out of that car. I can do this.”

He shakes his head, “I can see you sweating from here. You’re not well.”

You shake your head frantically, ignoring how your vision starts spinning, “Let me race. If I fuck up you can put George in the car for Monaco. If I fuck up you can even replace me. I don’t care. Just let me drive today.”

Toto’s face pinches in the way it does when he’s considering something, you can see cogs turning in his head as he evaluates what you’ve said and decides if he should listen to it.

He sighs, “I am not putting that kind of ultimatum on you,” your heart stutters and stops in your chest, and you hold your breath, “Okay. Against my better judgement, I will let you race today.”

You let out an audible breath, it edges out into a sob that makes your aching body curl into itself. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes for a moment to suppress the urge to give in to your fever. It would be easier to give up, it would be easier to let George take your seat for the race so you could crawl into bed and cry the fever out. But none of this has ever been easy for you. You’ve fought tooth and nail to get here, you won’t forfeit a race and let people say you took the easy way out.

You look up. Toto looks concerned.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“You won’t.”

You practically stumble onto the asphalt before the national anthem, passing your coat off to Rachel while your trainer wipes your forehead with a towel as if you’ve just finished a full-body workout. Your shoulders feel tense, you can’t stand up straight without shuddering so you’re hunched over awkwardly hoping it doesn’t come off looking too strange.

People are still milling about, setting things up while the drivers assemble. You don’t really notice on account of the fever state you’re in, but you end up standing between the McLaren boys. You must brush against Oscar because he looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed, mouth set in a line and his eyes wide like a puppy dog. You get lost in them a little— because of the fever. Definitely.

“Dude,” Oscar says to you, “You’re really hot.”

On your other side, Lando breaks into a fit of laughter. You frown, your brain trying the puzzle through the sentence. You feel foggy, your eyes feel heavy. You need more Sour Patch Kids, or a shot of espresso, or five Red Bulls. Max could swing it for you.

Oscar leans past you and swats at Lando’s shoulder, “She’s burning up, stupid.”

Lando’s laughter pauses, and he says seriously, “Oh shit.”

Suddenly, you’re being twisted around and you’re wincing at the contact on your shoulder that makes it ache even more. Lando puts a hand on your forehead and then immediately rips it away.

“Eugh. You’re sweaty.”

The back of Oscar’s hand replaces it. You twist away, brushing it off.

“You’ve got a fever,” he tells you, his voice thick with concern for you, “Have you told anyone? Does Toto know? Lewis?”

Instead of answering you press a hand over your eyes and crack your neck, trying to work through some of the stiffness in your back. You roll your shoulders and stand up as straight as possible, pushing through that aching, sickly feeling that runs through your whole body. When you finally drag your hand from your face— a thin sheen of sweat coming with it— Oscar is staring at you with a deep-set frown on his mouth. At his shoulder, Lando looks at you with a markedly less severe, but still concerned, expression.

“I’m fine, Oscar,” you insist.

You’re not. He knows you’re not. It doesn’t matter, you don’t want to seem weak. Not barely thirty minutes before the race. You can’t have either of them thinking you’d be easy for an overtake or that you’ll back out of a fight first. Off the track, fine— you’ve been vulnerable and honest with both of them at times. On the track is a different story. This is Formula One. You’re not here to make friends. They are not here to make friends.

“Mm,” Oscar hums, “Pretty sure you’re not.”

“You’re sweating bullets,” Lando adds, “Can see it from here.”

Something white-hot and pissed off flares up your spine. Oscar is not this kind of person, even on track; but the suspicion that he’s just trying to eliminate you as competition rises anyway. You think it because if the situation were flipped, you’d be weighing the pros and cons of having a sick driver on the track. Their weaknesses, what it means if they’re distracted. It doesn’t make you a good person, but you’re already pretty sure you aren’t one.

“I am fine,” you bite.

Oscar’s expression drops. Into something not quite offended… accepting, maybe? Resigned? It closes off to you, is what you mean. That’s fine, you’re trying to close yourself off to him. You’re re-drawing a line that you’ve been crossing without a thought for at least two years now. You’re not here to make googly eyes at Oscar and let him put his hand on your fever-ridden forehead and have him reprimand out-of-line, so-called professionals for you. You’re here to get in that car every Sunday and put your life on the line for a shiny trophy and fucking glory. Even if you’ve got a fever. Even if you’ve got a weird crush on Oscar Piastri.

“I’m racing,” you add in a different tone, feeling as if you’ve been a bit harsh on a well-meaning Oscar, even if you mean what you’re thinking.

Oscar nods, and says, “Okay,” in a way that really means, ‘If you say so, then it is’.

In the car, on the tarmac, sitting in your starting grid position, you’re shitting bricks.

Your cheeks are squeezed tight into your helmet, you can feel sweat, slick and soaking through your balaclava. Your arms hurt, your legs hurt, your ass hurts where it’s pressed into the seat. You’re not crying, but your mouth— hidden away by your helmet— is open like you’re about to. Set into a grimace that you breathe raggedly out of. Toto says something over the radio before the lights go out, you don’t hear it. You’re too busy regretting how earnestly you’d begged him to let you race. It would have been better if George had taken over. It might have been better if you’d passed out during the national anthem so you really had no choice but to sit it out. No one could say you weren’t committed to this sport if that had happened. They’d have plenty to say about women and their weak constitutions though.

You’re on autopilot when the lights go out. One second you’re freaking out like it’s your first time in a car, the next second everything is fading into background noise and you’re fighting a Ferrari and a McLaren for your original grid position. Twenty of you tear down the straight to turn two and you find yourself slotting easily into what you think is P4. Ferrari— not the same one— in front of you. Your mirrors reveal the McLaren behind you. It’s Oscar, you’re sure. You can tell by the way he sticks to your ass. Every nudge of the car you make he makes with you.

You press the radio button, “That Piastri behind?”

Crackle, “Yeah.”

“Knew it. He’s up my butt, Rach.”

“Okay. Go faster then. Not sure what to tell you.”

You make a face. You weren’t looking for sarky advice, you were trying to commiserate. You press the button and make a vaguely mocking neh-neh noise that gets a laugh and then radio silence because you’re supposed to be fucking concentrating. Which, okay, fair.

You press the throttle, done with trying to manage your tyres for the moment and taking Rachel’s comment as permission. You tear away from Oscar, stopping his fight to overtake you through the chicane in its tracks. You start slowly gaining on the Ferrari in front of you, its red rear wing growing closer and closer.

“Sainz in front?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yup,” Rachel confirms before rattling off some lap times when you ask for them.

By lap thirty-something, you’re on Sainz’s ass like Oscar was on yours. You’re fighting him through every chicane, threatening him on the straights and generally behaving in a way that you know for a fact is putting him on edge. But Carlos isn’t giving up P3 without a fight.

A safety car goes out around lap forty, and you pit. Everyone ahead of you does as well. Oscar doesn’t, Oscar is lucky to have gone in earlier. Rachel tells you he’d made up four places after being forced to box for some tyre issue. You feel a strange mix of pride and jealousy swirl in your chest as you all file into a discordant line behind the safety car.

Verstappen leads the pack, as per usual. Then Oscar, Sainz and you. Leclerc is behind you, then Lando. You’re in P4, right where you started and right where you’ve been fucking sitting the entire race so far. twenty-five laps to at least make it onto the podium. Then you’ll be happy. Or not quite happy, you’d need pole for that. Content. You’d be content.

Max starts weaving. The safety car goes off and Max keeps you all ready and waiting until the exact millisecond that he decides the race can properly begin again. You hate when he does this— you know that’s exactly why. Eventually, finally, he gets going.

You have to run defence like crazy for a few laps to keep Leclerc behind you until everything is warmed up. The gap widens as you drive. At some point, you stop worrying about the Monégasque so much and focus your attention on car fifty-five like your life depends on it. The laps fly by as time ticks on. Twenty-five to go, twenty, fifteen, ten. You’re back on Sainz’s rear wheel, a gap of 0.2 to 0.3 that’s been consistent throughout this last stretch of the race. You’re watching him like a hawk, waiting for the smallest slip-up to take advantage of. Somewhere you can push, somewhere he’s weak. It’s hard— he’s covering all his bases. Not giving you an inch so you can’t take a mile.

You’re closing in on sixty-four laps— with only three to go— when he gives you that fucking inch. It’s in the first chicane. His wheel locks up, and he jerks the car slightly the wrong way, something like that. You get in his space and you push and he backs out first. You press down on the throttle and rocket past him, shouting FUCK! FUCK YES! to yourself.

P3. P3. God, you hope it’s P3.

You press the talk button, “Rach?”

“Yes, P3,” she barks, “Fucking, focus. Three laps to go.”

Those last three laps of Imola are some of the hardest of your life. Defending against Carlos is a task, of course, but it’s not even that. The sickness starts to creep back into your awareness as the adrenaline that had hit its peak during the overtake starts to subside. Two laps to go and you’re remembering the fever again. The sweat soaking your hair and streaking down the back of your neck. Your whole body is on fire and it aches everywhere. It feels like someone has taken a sledgehammer to the inside of your skull. You want so badly to close your eyes and drift away to sleep, but the car is flying through the air demanding your attention with the way it thuds against the track. You’ve got one lap to go and Carlos is on you like white on rice. You can’t afford to make a mistake until you’re firmly over that finish line.

So you don’t. You grit your teeth and you refuse.

Carlos is downright reckless in the last chicane, he tries to bait you by moving to one side and pushing but you’re not going to fall for something like that even if you’re near delirious from the 39.4-degree fever. Though surely it’s higher now, the car temp can’t be helping. You hardly realise you’ve crossed the finish line because you’re thinking so hard about how lightheaded you feel. On instinct, you slow down to a safe speed as Oscar’s McLaren enters your vision, but you think your toes have pins and needles and there’s some feeling tingling up into your shoulders. You blink hard and take a long sip of water so you can make it to the pits before your head starts to spin.

Crackle, “Where are you going? That was P3.”

“Huh?” you realise you’re following the other drivers instead of heading into the pits where you’re supposed to go, “Shit. Sorry.”

You edge back as carefully as you can, avoiding other cars that pass by, lucky you’ve not overshot too far so you can turn into the pits and park your car in front of the P3 sign without going around the entire track. That would be embarrassing. Or that would be more embarrassing than how disgusting you’re going to look when you take your helmet and balaclava off.

Toto, Rachel and a few of your engineers are there to meet you at the barricade when you clamber out of the car, unsteady on your feet. Rachel’s eyebrows are furrowed as she tries her best to smile at you, trying to put on a brave face even though you can tell she’s concerned you’re going to keel over. You brace yourself with a hand against the gate and tear your helmet off, then your balaclava. You’ve never been so fast to put a cap on your head, trying to cover the sweaty mess that is your hair right now.

“That was phenomenal work,” Rachel says, reaching to put a hand on your burning hot bicep, “You look fucking terrible, though.”

You suck in a ragged breath and you nod in agreement, trying to keep the black tinging your vision from taking over completely. 

“Get her something to drink,” you hear Toto bark, though it comes to your ears, muffled and staticky.

You’re fine. You’re fine. Until you’re not and your sweaty hand is slipping against the guardrail and your vision is fading into darkness and you’re falling face first into a metal railing. And, and, someone’s got their arm around your middle and you’re not on the ground with your face in the asphalt. You blink, hot tears— from what you assume is exhaustion— burning your eyelids. The arm around your middle is covered in something orange and black… Oscar. It’s Oscar who’s got you propped up, held firm into his body so your legs don’t collapse underneath you. The two of you sway and stumble for a second as you gain your footing back, your vision returning to normal, the buzzing in your ears going away.

“You’re good,” he breathes, “I’ve got you.”

You ignore the shiver that runs down your spine, you attribute it to your current state.

You remember the cameras that are on all of you right now. You try not to look panicked as you step away from him. You try to do it calmly and not frantically like you so want to. Toto has some electrolyte drink held out right in your face and you take it, chugging half of it straight away while you swivel around to face Oscar. You nod, feeling slightly better, but gripping the guardrail tight so as not to repeat earlier.

“Thanks,” you try a smile, but it’s just turning into a grimace because you feel like shit.

Oscar shakes his head, “Don’t mention it.”

“Great driving out there.”

His eyebrow goes up, touching the curl of his hair that peeks out from his cap.

“You’re kidding?” he says, tone laced with amusement.

You frown, which is much easier, “No. You drove great.”

He makes a face like ‘yes, obviously’, but somehow does it in a humble and endearing way that you find you like a little too much. It leaves you confused as to his point.

“No,” he scoffs, “Okay, yes. What I mean is that you just got P3 with a raging fever.”

You purse your lips, countering, “You don’t know I have a fever.”

His tongue darts out to wet his top lip, hiding the small smile that threatens on his face.

He shrugs, “Bit obvious, unfortunately.”

You roll your eyes. You think what he means is it’s a bit obvious because you look like absolute death. There’s probably sweat rolling off you in buckets, your cap is jammed on your head and your hair is probably sticking out at crazy angles. There were dark circles under your eyes before you left for the track this morning, they’re probably ten times worse now. He might also mean it’s obvious from the way your skin is burning hot, like touching a radiator in the middle of winter. Or, perhaps, the way you’d passed out into his arms a few minutes earlier.

You suck your teeth, “Well. I told you I was racing today.”

Oscar nods, biting the inside of his lip, “Yeah. You did.”

There’s more that neither of you are saying. A conversation that you’re trying desperately to have with prolonged eye contact, small little smiles and breaths out through the nose. You think it might be ‘I’m proud of you’ or ‘You’re very impressive and I’m going a little bit crazy about it’. That’s how you feel at least, somewhere in between the fever chills and the urge you’re suppressing to curl into a ball on the tarmac. This is okay, you think. You don’t have to be Oscar’s sworn enemy just because you’re both chasing the win. You can let him worry about you, but make sure he understands he can’t stop you from taking the things that you want. You can say things that mean other things and Oscar can smile at you like it’s something private for just the two of you.

You can be happy with that. Or not quite happy. Content.

🏎️ song inspo (fiona apple my Beloved) -> https://open.spotify.com/track/5h9Iek7Hp9wayRt7fBp7Ab?si=9PnuH5CDSC-qTurLPGiTwg

💫 fill out this form if you want to be added to my tag list: @clowngirlsstuff @leclercsluvs @c-losur3 @mael1pastry @papayamusha @mvk1ma

[carolmunson]

i'm the best thing at this party | e.m.

up and coming rockstar!eddie munson x girlfriend!reader (is that a picture of slash? sure, but we can pretend it isn't.) aka the first time carol ever wrote a fic based off a taylor song. but in my defense, it was a chase petra cover of 'you're losing me' that inspired it. this is not connected to my rockstar!eddie x actress!reader storyline, this is it's own oneshot in a separate story.

in the early 90s, when your boyfriend's band starts to make it in the big leagues, you start to come to terms with the fact that he might not want or need a small town player anymore. eighteen plus. established relationship. angst. hurt/no comfort-ish. open ending.

"and i'm fading, thinkin': 'do something, babe. say somethin'. lose somethin' babe, risk something. choose somethin' babe. i got nothin' to believe, unless you're choosing me.'"

The Hideout was hot with all the bodies packed in like sardines; stark contrast to the icy chill of winter outside. Glowing on the screen was The Tonight Show, everyone’s eyes glued to it while Corroded Coffin made their first national televised debut. 

No one’s totally sure how their manager Richie was able to finesse this slot – but they went to New York to film earlier in the week and didn’t ask any questions. With Richie, it's better to not ask questions and just let it happen. Eddie came home with an adrenaline rush so intense that he barely slept for three days. No matter how much you tried to keep him in bed and tire him out. 

And sure, it was hard to have him be gone while you drove out to Indy and took a friend to see the new graffiti art exhibit that came in from LA when it was supposed to be with him. It was hard to have him miss a lot of things. His return from the city only started another big talk about it, one you've been having every few months the last two years. Even so, you couldn’t help but be proud of him, proud of all of them. Remembering that just four years ago they were barely getting fifteen people in here to see them play when you first started dating. 

The crowd erupts when the camera comes off of the band on the stage and back to Leno at his desk, the boys in real life all standing on the bar. You look up at Ed and smile, he finally did it, he’s doing it. The contracts are signed, the people saw him, he’s gonna make it. He’s making it. 

You duck out of the way when they start to spray champagne over everyone by the bar, “Not my hair, babe!” 

The two  bartenders pour shots of Jameson and flutes of Prosecco while the show cuts to commercial and it’s not long before you feel the sticky chest of your boyfriend up against your shoulder, “It was good? I did good?” 

“Ed you’re…you’re fuckin’ famous,” you grin, “You’re fuckin’ famous!”

You follow while he leads you through the crowd, settled in near the back where the stage doors lead to the dressing room and out into the parking lot. He looks over his shoulder twice before he sneaks you both behind the amps; heart pounding when he leans you up against the painted cinder block walls, noses mashing when he takes your lips in his. It’s feverish, desperate when he pulls at your hips, one arm wrapped around your mid back to keep you steady up against him.

“Lemme – mmm – lemme take you to the green room,” he breathes between kisses, moving your hand toward the bulge in his jeans, “C’mon I wan–” 

“The interview’s up!” Jeff calls from on top of the bar. 

“Where’s Ed? ED? Come on! The interview’s up!” Gareth calls, the crowd erupting in a cheer of ‘Edd-ie, Edd-ie, Edd-ie!’

“Come on, come on!” you squeal, pulling away to pull him toward the front of the bar again, “You said they were gonna cut it!”  

“It’s stupid, babe,” he assures, “It’s so dumb.” 

“Ed, you’re being interviewed by Leno, this isn’t stupid,” you urge, “This is like – this is it.” 

“It’s literally like two minutes, it’s not special,” he doesn’t move when you pull him along with you, a frown pulling on your lips. 

“Eddie,” your voice raises an octave, tugging on his hand – he lets go. 

“I’m gonna take a leak,” he shrugs, heading toward the green room while you watch him disappear behind the door. Your brows furrow slightly, but it doesn’t stop you from making your way back to the edge of the bar where everyone’s eyes are glued to the medium sized screen in the corner. 

The crowd cheers again while the band is re-introduced, Eddie and Jeff sitting on the chairs with Gareth and Grant standing behind them. You admire the way your boyfriend looks post performance, nearly glittering with sweat but glowing with pride – with accomplishment. You look over your shoulder to see if he’s back from the bathroom yet, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“So we got a group of some – what looks like – nice, respectable hard core guys,” Jay smiles. 

“I don’t know about respectable,” Eddie scrunches his nose back at the host. 

“I don’t know about nice, either,” Jeff jokes. You marvel at how relaxed and natural they all look on camera, cracking wise and getting laughs from the audience. They talk about the album briefly, and the front cover which has all four boys in caskets with a red kiss print on their cheeks. 

“So, the debut is self titled, Corroded Coffin – but it looks like you all got a coffin kiss here,” he points out, “These from anyone special? You got the girls going crazy.” The audience erupts in cheers and screams, a bra finding its way flung into the sound stage. You giggle when Gareth and Grant  hold it up, making them both blush pink on the screen. 

“Well I got a girl at home, so, I don’t hear any screamin’ if it’s not her cheering for me,” Jeff’s smile is bright when the camera focuses on him and he winks into the lens. Sasha, Jeff’s girlfriend, screeches in the crowd of The Hideout. 

“You didn’t tell me you were gonna do that!” she beams, and your heart thunders while you watch them kiss on the bar. The promise ring that he gave her back in ‘88 shines on her ring finger, awaiting something much more flashy when that first big rockstar payday hits.

“It’s definitely a change of pace,” Grant nods on the screen, “Definitely wasn’t getting a lot of girls in high school.” 

“It’s wild,” Gare laughs. 

“And what about you, Munson,” Jay asks, “Frontman like you’s gotta be beating them off with a stick.” 

The camera focuses on him, his pink lips and smart grin, a flash of teeth before he starts talking. He’s so handsome, you feel your fingers and toes start to tingle when he opens his mouth.You weren’t expecting to hear your name on national television, or be alluded to. You’d never really prepared yourself for something like this. To be declared to thousands, maybe millions, as a rockstar girlfriend.

You swallow the nervous spit pooling in your mouth, heart pattering while you run through all of the scenarios of the outcome of being ‘announced’ in your head.  

“I don’t kiss and tell, Jay,” he smirks.

Oh.

Your hearing clouds and your vision blurs – unsure of what you just heard. If maybe you imagined it, but that proves to be untrue when you feel a few sets of eyes on you. A moment of silent confusion lulls on the crowd at the bar.

You swallow the lump in your throat, fingers and toes cold now while the blood rushes to your heart and head, to your lungs which suddenly forgot how to work. Through teary eyes you look around, drowned out by the cheers of the bar when Jay announces when the album will release. You sniffle, trying to hold it back – but there he is in the back of the crowd now, eyes rounded; pleading, looking straight at you. 

The tears spill over and you try to catch your breath as you make your way through the bodies on your way to the front door. You hear Gareth call after you, hearing him stumble over the barstools while he hops off the counter. Another ragged intake of breath shakes through you while you get closer to the sticker covered door, pushing through the first set and then the other into the dark blue night. Your breath puffs white in front of you, coat abandoned somewhere back inside The Hideout while you walk across the street to your car. 

You fumble with the keys, blubbering while you get the engine started and the radio blares Al Green’s Let’s Stay Together part way through the song. In the rear view you see him hustle out of the bar to search for you, catching the start of your car and getting to the passenger window before you can pull away. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” he strains, his fingers hanging on the edge of the half open glass, “I promise it���s not what you think. Richie asked me to answer like that, it wasn’t on purpose.” 

You press slightly on the gas, making the car lurch forward and inch.

“Wait! Please don’t – don’t just go,” he begs, voice breaking with desperation, “We can talk about it.” 

You look at him through wet eyes, the street lights haloing behind his head to feign his innocence. He can talk himself out of anything.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you rasp out quietly, “We’ve done enough talking.” 

“I can…please don’t go,” he says again, “Not with you crying like this, c’mon. Don’t leave.” 

“I’m gonna go home, Ed,” you sniffle, “J-just go h-have fun inside. S’too cold to be out here.” 

“You don’t have your coat,” he states, “Come back in and get it. We can talk in the back, please.” 

“I don’t need my coat,” you garble out, “I’m going h-home.” 

“Well I’ll – I’ll bring it to you tomorrow morning,” he nods needily, “Okay? Is that okay?” 

You let out a shaky breath, fogging again against your windshield, “F-fine.” 

Eddie cracks a weak but winning smile, “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” 

“I love you,” he adds. It tastes like ash in your mouth. You pull away before you feel compelled to say it back. 

Eddie show’s up in the morning with coffee and your coat, a small carton of donut holes for you both to share. He’s all smiles, seeing you in the kitchenette cleaning out the coffee pot that you now no longer have to fill. 

“Morning, baby,” he grins, “I brought your coat.” 

“Thanks,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the droplets of water that race down the side of the glass pout, “You can just hang it on the hook.” 

“Are you…are you still upset with me?” his voice is airy, surprised while he makes his way behind you. Calloused hands reach around to pull your back in his chest, nose nuzzling against your cheek. Your stomach rolls, bile inching up the base of your throat. 

“Enough, Ed,” you sigh, pulling out of his hold. 

“Sweetheart, c’mon,” he huffs, “I told you already. I didn’t want to say that. But you know how Richie is! He just wants what’s best for the band and so do I! Don’t you? I thought you’d understand.” 

“Jeff had no problem talking about Sasha,” you do your best to measure your tone, too early to start yelling. 

“Jeff has the wholesome thing going for him; plus – you know his family isn’t for him being considered like, a rogue or whatever. He’s already in a metal band,” Eddie explains, like this is a totally normal conversation, “Richie even said this morning that he was getting a lot of calls.” “Okay,” you nod, sitting down at the small table in your kitchen where your coffee sits. 

“And like, a lot of people wanna do interviews with us and get hype up for the release,” he half smiles, sitting down across from you, “I told you, it was…it was a good thing. They were saying y’know like, mysterious bad boy front man is a good angle.” 

“Great.” 

“It doesn’t…babe, it doesn’t mean we can’t be together,” he leans forward, hand reaching out to touch yours. His shoulders sulk when you put them both under the table. 

“Ed I –” you let out a breath, eyes tracing a pattern on the waxed canvas tablecloth, “I can’t even look at you right now. And you wanna tell me we can still be together?” 

“What like it’s…some consolation prize?” you choke out, “You made a fool out of me. The looks I got?”   

“I know, I know, but it was for the band. You know how I feel abo—“ 

“How you feel about me?” you hold back a bitter laugh. 

“Ed, the last year or so we have kept having the same conversation over and over again. You are so, so caught up in Corroded and making it and getting there and trust me I am so proud of you. If there is anyone on the planet who is more proud than me maybe it’s Wayne, but – this is just like, this is kind of it. We have nowhere to go from here.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, his brown eyes rounding and brows tilting slightly when he realizes what you’re really saying, “What do you mean no where to go? Are you not listening? I said we can still be together, just like befo–” 

“Before? Before when?” you get up and pace back to the kitchen where he can still see you, “Before when you would cancel dates to go practice? When you missed my awards night for work  because you wanted to fill in guitar for a gig in Ohio? When you didn’t come to my poetry reading with the guys like you said you would and instead got plastered at The Hideout after rehearsal?” 

“Well I apologized for all that, that was all in the past couple years and I – look, I said I was sorry and you accepted that,” his voice raises slightly, he stands up to full height with defense evident in his stance, “You can’t just throw it back in my face.” 

“When you were gone weeks at a time for mini tours, for opening for bands on the East Coast – god, all the work I took off to make sure I was there for you? When you canceled our three year anniversary dinner, without my knowledge, because you got a call for discounted studio time on the same night,” you manage to get out, the tears inching toward the edge of your lash line, “And I sat there at the table in my new dress and everyone looked at me the same way they looked at me last night. Poor girl. Must’ve got stood up. What an idiot.” 

“Yeah well that studio time is why we were on fuckin’ LENO, babe!” he pleads, “Don’t you get that? It’s for us!” 

“It’s for you!” you break, the shrill frustration coming out with your voice, “It’s always just been for you. It’s always about Eddie and the guys. I have done nothing but make sacrifice after sacrifice, excuse after excuse to play the part of perfect, understanding, cool, laidback girlfriend but like fuck Ed, when is it gonna be about me, huh?” He stands there, unsure, cheeks sucking in between his teeth.

“And what’s on the docket for you on Friday? Have any plans?” you ask, your voice softening while you cross your arms over your chest. You lean the small of your back against the counter while you watch him. He clears his throat, hands finding their way into the back pockets of his jeans. 

“Um, we have some meetings in the morning in Indy. And then um, we’re gonna take a late flight out to LA. The label’s excited – they’re really excited,” he breathes out, eyes finding the floor and your sock covered feet.

“Oh, that’s interesting,” you nod, voice still measured, “Since we’ve had the tickets for my niece’s winter school concert on the fridge for over a month. I guess I’ll have to tell her that her favorite bonus teacher couldn’t make it.” 

“Fuck,” Eddie’s eyes shut, pulling his lips in to run his tongue across them while he thinks of what to say next. Your heart thrums in your chest, throat getting tighter and tighter while you hold back a cry – this was just another thing to add to the list.

“I can make it up to her, I promise,” his raspy nicotine voice becoming garbled with desperation, “I can make this all up to you, too. I swear. I wish you had just told me about all of this.” 

“I have, Ed. We are always having the same conversation. I’m tired of having it. I’m so tired of this. Make it up to me? How do you make up for it?” 

“I…” he chokes on his words, ringed fingers running over his face and reaching to pull his hair back off his neck. 

“Go ahead,” you encourage angrily, “What’re you gonna do? Say something. Fucking, do something, Ed!” 

“Baby, I don’t know what to…” he swallows, tears pooling in shiny wells over his eyes, “What do you want me to do? I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.” 

You take a breath through your nose and let it out through your mouth, taking the three steps it takes to get to him. Your hands fall from being crossed, reaching up to cup each of his cheeks. Your thumbs run over the apples and drag softly over the stubble left over from the night before. 

His eyes shut while he keens into your touch, his rough hands covering yours. Calloused fingertips coasting delicately over your knuckles. You know what you have to do, even if his touch makes you want to do the opposite. 

“Go be famous,” you shrug, smiling weakly, “Go be the big rockstar I know you are. Like how you wanted. Go play The Garden and live in LA.” 

Your hands slide down his face, tears falling after them, “Go do all that, and just, um – just leave me alone. Please.” 

“But I don’t–” he starts, pulling in a sharp breath while a cry leaks out of him, “I don’t wanna lose you.” 

“Oh, Ed,” you shake your head while the ache spills over into your own leveled sob, “I’m already lost.” 

“No, please,” he begs, trying to catch your hands as they make it back to your sides, “Please, baby, I’ll fix it. I pro-promise.” 

“There’s nothing left to fix,” you whisper in finality, “You should go.” 

“I don’t want to,” Eddie’s soft pink lips quiver while he speaks, “Please. Please. I can fix it, the next interview, anything, it’ll be all you. I swear I can…I can…” 

When your face doesn’t change he knows there’s no way to pull you from your stance, voice trailing off in defeat. You watch as he rips open your storm door and goes to his van, his chest and back shaking with sobs that make the hardware on his jacket cry with him.

A year passes and you are not surprised when you find out that Corroded Coffin has made the cover of Rolling Stone. Wayne bought every copy from the gas station at the end of the road and put them in every mailbox early that morning. You don’t think there’s been a day in the last year that Wayne wasn’t seen beaming ear to ear; his boy finally getting everything he wanted. 

Life had gotten easier now that you weren’t regularly expecting disappointment. You went on few dates here and there, just trying to navigate your life after spending four years sharing it with someone else. Some nights were colder than others, but it was better than the frigidness you felt that night at the bar.

You did your best to avoid the tabloids – Eddie was certainly doing just fine navigating his life as a bachelor; some new model or actress on his arm every other month it seemed. Hardrock’s Resident Playboy. It stung the first time you saw it, and a little less each time after – heart breaker to the core; you would know, you were the blueprint.

In the same cold that matched the night at The Hideout a year prior; you sat on your steps wrapped in a robe – morning cigarette between your fingers. 

“Morning,” Wayne’s voice is gravelly when it sounds over you, still soaked with left over sleep. 

“Mornin’ Wayne,” you smile, taking a sip of the steaming cup of coffee in your other hand. 

“Wanted to uh, to let you know that the guys are playin’ a show in the city tonight. I could uh – I could get you a ticket if y–” 

“That’s sweet of you Wayne,” you smile tightly, “But I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“He might like to see you,” he shrugs. He hadn’t quite gotten over the break up the way you and Eddie had, convinced that this was the real deal – that he was watching young love flourish into something bigger. 

“He’s seeing someone, Wayne,” you take a drag of your cigarette, “Why would he want to see his ex-girlfriend who still lives in Hawkins? He’s got some actress girl now, right?” 

Wayne shrugs again, scratching at the back of his neck, “I never know what that boy’s got goin’ on in California outside of shows and gettin’ into trouble. Maybe he is seeing some girl but, y’know, seein’ an old friend could be good for him.” 

“He’s still got plenty of friends here he can see,” you let the smoke out to drift off in the gentle wind rustling through the line of trailers and mobile homes, “I don’t think I need to be one of them.” 

“Well, they’re gonna have a small after party at The Hideout tomorrow,” he offers, “Even if you just wanna do somethin’ fun. I never see you goin’ out anymore.” 

You laugh, “You work at night, what do you mean you don’t see me goin’ out anymore? I go out plenty.” 

His eyes linger on you, enough to encourage a thoughtful sigh – you might as well humor him. 

“I’ll think about it, okay?” you toss your half finished cigarette onto the browned grass before looking back up at him.

“Okay,” he smiles, eyes sparkling as he makes his way back inside. 

You spend the next day deliberating between making it to the bar or not, putting in the effort to get ready and showing up. Why bother? Just to sit awkwardly in the corner while everyone flocks to the boys and tells them how great they are? They already know they’re great, they’re crawling higher and higher up the ladder. 

You haven’t even talked to Eddie since the morning he left your trailer, and Wayne knows that. He knows how bad you hurt his nephew because he came over to talk to you a week after Eddie went to California and stayed for good. ‘So why should I show my face there? So I can relive the moment he made a fool of me over again?’ You think while the hot water of the shower glides over your shoulders and down your chest. 

‘Maybe it’ll be good to make amends or something, I at least owe it to the guys,’ you figure silently while you slather on some moisturizer at the bathroom sink. And you did – not seeing Eddie meant not seeing the rest of the band. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant were your friends too, and you sort of broke up with them in the same instance. Sasha moved out to California with them soon after – it would be nice to catch up at least. You hadn’t seen her since that night. 

‘But why would I want to bother? So I can see that engagement ring on her finger and hear her talk about her wedding plans?’ you swallow sourly while you use a touch of your lipstick as blush on the apples of your cheeks. ‘Remember all the times you thought you and Ed were gonna get married? Hilarious.’ 

Before you know it, it’s 11:30 and you’re standing outside of the sticky and stickered covered door of The Hideout. Even from where you’re standing the bar is a buzz like a hive, energy inside like a livewire when you get into the entryway, showing your ID to the bouncer at the inside door. 

‘Small after party my ass, Wayne,’ you think to yourself when you get in, shrugging off your coat. There was barely room to move and most of the lights were off or dimmed aside from the small stage in the back. By the looks of it, they must’ve played a small set – an intimate ‘home base’ concert for the real hometown fans. You push through some of the crowd, acrid smoke haze hovering over the room. A single bar stool sits empty at the end of the counter close to the wall and before you can think about it, you beeline straight there before someone else can grab it. Not that anyone would be able to see it through the six couples making out to Slayer blasting through the speakers. 

The bar tender notices you soon after, coming over to get your order while his two cohorts speedily pour shots and mix drinks. You almost don’t want to get anything just to make the night easier, but opt for a beer instead. 

“How much?” you ask over the music. 

“WHAT?” the bartender shouts, holding a hand to his ear. 

“HOW MUCH?” you yell back. 

“ON THE HOUSE. BAND IS COVERING DRINKS,” he shouts back. You take a few dollars out while he pours your beer anyway, sliding it across the bar with a smile. He smiles back, pocketing the ones with a wink before helping another person leaning over the bar. 

The TV takes your attention, a tape of their recent interviews and music videos playing on a loop with no sound. The beer is almost comforting as it passes over your tongue, it’s been some time since you just sat in a busy bar – and for the most part, no one here even knows you. For the most part. 

A call of your name snaps you back to reality, looking around to see exactly who you thought you would. Sasha. And low and behold a ring sparkles bright on her finger, a breathtakingly big diamond glittering in the neon lights behind the bar. 

“Hey!” you call back with a smile, sick crawling up your throat. You watch as she fights the crowd to get over to you, wrapping you in a tight hug while you stay seated on the stool. 

“How have you been? You look gorgeous,” Sasha’s tan skin glows back orange in green while the lights change, tight dark curls bouncing prettily around her face. 

“I’ve been good!” you nod, your voice hardly sounds like your own, “Y’know just – hanging around Hawkins. How’s LA? How’ that ring?!” 

She holds her hand out so you can really see it, her skin is warm in yours while you take her fingers. It’s more beautiful up close, the marquise diamond flanked by two smaller triangles in perfect harmony. 

“He did so good, Sash,” you giggle. 

“I slapped his arm so hard when I saw it,” she laughs, “I said, ‘Jeff we could’ve bought a freakin’ house!’ but you know how he is.” 

“I do, I do,” you nod, “Did you set a date?” 

“Probably not for another year or so if we do a big wedding,” she shrugs, “Maybe a little longer? We think it’s smart to actually buy a house first – with this kind of money coming in. And y’know, the industry is, uh, well, it can be wishy washy. What’s in today could be out tomorrow. We wanna be smart.” 

“Well thank god he’s marrying someone like you then,” you tease. 

“That’s true,” she beams, “Do the guys know you’re here? I can go grab J–”

“No, no, they don’t,” you interrupt, taking her arm gently while she turns to leave, “You don’t have to tell them I’m here. I’ll go find them, I promise.” 

Sasha gives you a half hearted smile, “Okay. Well – We’re sitting over by the stage if you wanna come say hi to the guys. Gareth would lose his mind, and Grant brought his new girl with him, she’s so cool. They met in LA and she’s like, got the sickest punky-goth type of thing about her.” 

“I love that he’s in love,” you gush. 

“Me too,” she nods, “The girls are obsessed with him out there.” 

There’s a silence, but it’s knowing – still one person yet to have been mentioned but you both seem to understand it’s not worth bringing it up. Sasha reminds you that they’re by the stage, giving her a wave while she disappears in the throngs of people in the crowd. 

Half way through your second beer and a couple of random conversations with people later, you see him in glimpses while people pass by. You can tell by the smirk on his face that he’s flirting, and when more people move and re-disperse, settling, you see glimpses of her, too. Some cute young looking thing, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was her twenty-first birthday. All doe eyed and giggly while he leans over her against the wall near the booths. I guess whoever he’s seeing in California isn’t too important.

He looks good, healthy, you can tell his clothes are tailored now – sort of comical that a tailor would fit and adjust ripped jeans and an old leather jacket. Not that he has to know you think it’s funny. 

Eddie leans forward and lets his finger tap her on the nose, a tell-tale sign of his that they’ll kiss later. He’s used that move on you more times than you can count. He did it the night you met, tipsy at a party at Gareth’s – tapped you on the nose, making you scrunch it. 

‘Aw, if I knew you’d make a face like that I would’ve booped you way earlier.’ 

‘What do you mean? What face?’ You scrunch again. 

‘That face,’ he bites his lower lip, blush on his cheeks, ‘It’s a cute face.’

You expected it to hurt more, to watch him active in his element; but it doesn’t. You know the motions, you know his tells, he next move. You can see it in the way he leans into her and then leans away – almost kissing her, but leaving her wanting more. You smirk into your next sip, counting down the moments until he puts their conversation on pause to do their rounds and finding her again later. Gotta keep her yearning, you guess. He certainly was always good at things like that. 

You don’t see their reunion, you assume it was somewhere near the stage where the band and Sasha were. At the end of the night, the boys play a goodnight mini-set, just three songs. You’d never seen Ed so in his zone in your life, fully basking in the glow of upcoming stardom. Every chord and every lyric punching out of him like the sweat pouring from his hairline and chest. This was what you wanted, what you told him to do. 

Go be famous. And here he was. Famous. Just like you said he would be. 

Water takes the place of your beer while they play; and you know better than to get up and join the crowd. Much happier sitting at the end of the now more empty bar just listening instead of getting potentially punched or tussled with amongst the bodies. 

People take their time leaving when the set is over, shrugging on their coats to brave the cold weather. 

‘Thanks for comin’ out to celebrate with us – now get the fuck out so our buddies at the bar can go home before four!’ 

You savor the conversations and music settling down to a much quieter murmur while you sketch on a napkin. A few people you shared niceties with tap your shoulder to say goodbye, new friends you’ll never see again. On the other end of the bar you hear Grant and his girl order a round of shots. Your head almost pops up at the sound of his voice, but that might bring attention to you that you don’t think you really want. Now that the night is over, you’re glad you came. If anything, just to see that they were making it just fine – and they would have with or without you. 

With less people in the bar you can hear Sasha’s laugh in the back where the stage is, and you laugh into your napkin turned sketchpad. Her laugh was always infectious, enough to make the crowd follow suit. You grab a fresh napkin from the pile next to you and start to doodle again while you figure out how to best leave without anyone catching wise that you’re here. Out of the last twenty people left at the bar, a little more than half knew who you were.

The tap of the pen on the bar top while you think blends in with the tinkling of hardware that gets a little louder the closer it gets to you. A squish of leather and drag of a barstool later makes you privy that someone’s next to you. Spiced cologne and sweat sheened skin. 

“You come here often?” 

Slowly, you turn your head – level with brown eyes you haven’t looked in for a year, just in the glossy pages of magazines you’d leave behind at the grocery store or Melvald’s. 

“I used to,” you offer a quiet tired smile, leaning your chin on your hand on the bar, “It’s been a while.” 

Eddie smiles back, soft, cautious, “Yeah, same for me.” 

You both don’t speak for a moment, adjusting yourselves on the barstools while a few more people head out to leave. The jingle of the door fades out, crunches of the parting patrons’ sneakers and boots in the snow sound outside.

He clears his throat, bringing your attention back to him – the curls of his hair, the slight stubble on his jaw and cheeks. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth for a moment before he turns his chest toward you. 

“Can I uh, can I get you a drink?” 

[parkerslatte]

Overlooked | Part Two

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: smut. oral (fem recieving). choking. 18+

Summary: Y/N has been staying at the Autumn Court for a while and has been getting closer to Eris.

A/N: I apologise if the smut is awful, I haven’t written it in quite a while. But on a better note, this will have at least two more parts and I cannot wait for you to see what I have in store!

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Epilogue

•••

It had been six months since Y/N Archeron had made a home for herself in the Autumn Court. Her life in the Autumn Court was good, great even. Eris always made sure that she had everything she needed, sometimes he even provided more than what was necessary but it never felt like it was overbearing. He would always allow Y/N to leave whenever she wished and didn’t fight her when she wanted to be alone. He respected her in a way Y/N had never experienced before. 

The mating bond was something Eris had addressed rather quickly, he didn’t want Y/N to feel as if she needed to accept it. He gave that choice to her and he never brought it up again. Y/N still felt the pull in her chest toward Eris but she wasn’t sure if it was just the mating bond anymore. Whenever she wanted someone to talk to, she would seek him out and he would always make himself available. 

It was her first month of being in the Autumn Court when Y/N sought Eris out for the first time. Y/N would be lying is she said that she missed the Night Court. But she wouldn’t be lying if she said she missed her sisters. In her whole twenty-eight years of life, Y/N had her sisters by her side. Even if they hadn’t gone out of their way for her in the past couple of years, she still knew that they were close by. Now they were far away and Y/N realised the decision she had made. 

The moment Eris had found out that Y/N wanted to speak to her, he left in the middle of his meeting. 

“What’s wrong?” Eris had asked, concern etched into his brow. 

Y/N was teary eyed as she explained to Eris everything she had been feeling. He even offered to take her back to the Night Court. Y/N refused, she didn’t want to go back. The Autumn Court had felt more like home than the Night Court ever did. 

“I don’t want to leave,” Y/N told Eris. “I wish to stay, I am just finding it hard.”

Y/N remembered Eris nodding before walking her down the hallways and away from the meeting hall. He brought her to her room and asked the servant to bring two mugs of hot chocolate. She remembered how he sat and listened to her for hours and occasionally added in his own comments, to either offer words of comfort to just to make her smile. He sat with her until she fell asleep. 

The more Y/N spoke to Eris, the more Rhysand was wrong about him. He might have had a mask up around everyone else. That impenetrable mask of intimidation, bluntness and rudeness. But around her, he let it melt away into nothing, letting Y/N see the real him. Eris was kind to her. He made her laugh in a way no one had ever before. He listened to her and made sure she was okay. He cared for her. Eris was the only person to prioritise Y/N. It made Y/N’s heart sing.

“It’s nearly nightfall,” Eris situated himself down on the blanket Y/N was laying down on, snapping her from her thoughts. 

Y/N glanced at him and grinned. Something she had found herself doing more and more. “I know, I just enjoy being out here.”

The trees rustled with the slight breeze. It was chilly yet Y/N was warm wrapped in her soft thick jacket in the colours of the Autumn Court. 

Eris smiled and laid down next to her, his gaze never leaving hers. “Then I will join you.”

The hand rested by Y/N’s side twitched. His hand was so close and she could feel its warmth. Y/N knew what Eris’s hand felt like but since the night of the ball, she had never felt them again. Eris respected her decision about the mating bond. Y/N wanted time to think about it, and he allowed it. He never touched her without directly asking her, he never did anything to make her accept the bond. He simply waited for her decision patiently. 

“You don’t need to,” Y/N said. “It is quite cold.”

With a simple flick of his wrist, a fire road in front of the blanket, instantly warming the two. Y/N smiled. The warmth seemed to wrap around her body in a tight hug. Y/N only wished that it wasn’t the fire hugging her. 

“I wish I could do that,” Y/N said, sitting up. 

Eris copied her movements. “The cauldron didn’t give you anything.”

Y/N shook her head. “Nesta took it all, I think. I am just ordinary.”

“You are nothing of the sort,” Eris scolded.

Y/N shrugged. “My sisters all got wonderful powers and I got nothing. I was even overlooked by a stupid cauldron.”

“Who gives a shit if the cauldron didn’t give you powers,” Eris siad, frowning. “You are perfect the way you are.”

Y/N didn’t look too convinced as she started at the fire Eris had created. Eris didn’t look away from Y/N as he watched the expression on her face fall. His heart fell. With another flick of his wrist the fire was gone and Y/N tore her gaze away. 

Y/N didn’t even have a chance to speak before fire began to creep up her arm. The way it moved was like a snake as it touched and caressed her body. It didn’t burn or set anything alight. It was soothing and warm. Y/N glanced at Eris who had a soft smile on his face. She smiled in response. 

“It doesn’t hurt,” Y/N said as she raised her arm and watched the fire weave between her fingers in awe. 

“Keep your hand flat,” Eris said and Y/N obeyed and flattened her hand, keeping her fingers together. 

The fire seemed to take shape, slowly morphing into a small bird. Y/N gasped as it took flight and flew around her. Y/N tracked its movements, her smile bright. Eris only kept his eyes glued to Y/N. The joy in her face was an expression Eris wished to see her with more. She looked as if all of her worries had vanished and it was his doing. 

The bird flew ahead of her before changing back into the roaring fire from before. Y/N’s joy didn’t fade as she looked at Eris to find him already looking at her. Y/N’s heart swelled and she was sure it wasn’t just the bond making her feel the way she was. 

“That was beautiful,” Y/N said, her hand twitching once again, his hand was so close to hers. 

The way Eris was looking at her made Y/N slowly move closer. She felt that tug in her chest and for once she followed it. After six months of her talking to Eris and feeling her heart being to mend piece by piece solidified her decision, and the final piece that was broken finally repaired itself as she sat with Eris on the small picnic blanket. 

Y/N finally inched her hand closer to touch Eris. His skin was warm and welcoming. Still he didn’t move and allowed Y/N to lace her fingers with his. At the simple touch of their hands, the bond seemed to tighten and Y/N found herself physically getting closer to him. 

It had been six months since the bond had snapped into place and Y/N had felt that for six months something small had been missing. Of course Eris had given her the space she needed to process everything but he was the missing part that she needed to fully accept everything. She had been happier than ever in the past six months but the bond within her always tugged her in Eris’s direction. 

But eventually it wasn’t just the bond that tugged her in Eris’s direction. It was her own heart. 

“Eris,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know you have given me space over the time I have been here. But I have felt a pull toward you these past couple months and I know now that it isn’t just the mating bond.”

Eris’s eyes scanned her face as he looked for any sense of her not telling the truth. There was none. Y/N felt his hand tighten around hers as he brought it closer to him. 

“It was my own heart pulling me toward you,” Y/N confessed. “You have shown me nothing but kindness since I met you. You have spoken me late into the night, you have left in the middle of meetings for me. You have put me first before anyone.”

Eris brought her hand up and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “Y/N, if you are saying what I think you are going to say, please say it.”

“I want to accept the bond, Eris,” Y/N replied, inching closer to him. “I have fallen in love with you in my time here and I want to spend my life with you.”

A smile broke out on Eris’s face. “You are telling the truth?”

Y/N nodded. “I am. You are a good male, Eris. Others might not be able to see that, but I can.”

Eris tugged her hand until she was pulled close to his chest. Y/N settled her arm around Eris’s neck as his other hand caressed the side of her face. The light emitting from the fire seemed to light up his eyes and Y/N couldn’t tear her eyes away from them. From up close she could count the freckles on his face. They weren’t extremely visible from far away but as her face was only inches from his, she wanted to spend all day counting them just so she could stay this close. 

“Y/N…” Eris whispered. 

“Eris…” 

When their lips connected, the fire seemed to roar behind them, getting larger and larger. Eris’s powers seemed to amplify. 

He kissed her harder and pressed her body against his. Y/N groaned as his hands roamed her body. The jacket she wore suddenly felt too constricting. Y/N shrugged it from her shoulders without disconnecting their lips. The moment the jacket was discarded next to her, Y/N’s arms wrapped around Eris’s shoulders and her fingers tangled in his hair. 

“I have food with me,” Y/N broke away and mumbled against his lips. 

Eris looked shocked. “You want to accept it now?”

Y/N nodded and rested her forehead against his. “I think we have wasted enough time already.”

Eris smiled as Y/N shuffled away from him to reach into her bag. While she was busy Eris noticed the fire had returned to its normal state, no longer did it roar with life, while reaching heights it never had before. 

“It is only a small cupcake,” Y/N said, diverting Eris’s attention back to her. “But I think it will do.” Eris grinned at her as she straddled his lap, situating herself above him. 

“Y/N, you must know that as soon as I accept it, I might not be able to control myself,” Eris said, brushing a hair away from her face.

Y/N leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’m counting on it.”

The eldest Archeron lifted the cupcake to his lips and Eris took a bite, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s. As soon as he swallowed the bit, Y/N seemed to flood with a burning need. She felt hot and ached for Eris. 

“Y/N…” Eris growled as she lowered the cake and threw it back on top of her bag. “I need you.”

“Then have me,” Y/N’s voice was low and full of need. 

Eris smashed their lips together and pressed his chest tightly against hers. The desire within Y/N was unlike any other. She had felt desire before in her life, but never as much as she was experiencing. She needed Eris more than she had ever needed anyone.  Y/N throbbed as she ground her hips down, her core rubbing across Eris’s crotch. They were wearing too many clothes. 

Y/N panted as she pulled away from Eris to grip his shirt and ripped it open, the buttons flying out before getting lost in the grass. Y/N’s mouth watered at Eris’s bare chest. His broad shoulders held a few healed scars, Y/N kissed every single one as Eris pulled the ripped shirt away from his body. 

Their lips connected once more and Y/N whimpered as Eris thrust his hips up. His hardened length brushed her in all the right places. Y/N gasped. 

“I need to get you out of these clothes,” Eris mumbled against her lips as he began to unlace the back of her dress, lips attacking her neck in many open mouthed kisses. 

Y/N closed her eyes in pure bliss. It was almost animalistic how much she needed Eris to be buried deep within her. Thrusting his hips up and hitting all of the right spots to send her tumbling over the edge. She was almost feral. Y/N didn’t even care that anyone could come across the two fucking in the woods. 

The fire roared beside them. The heat of it only egged Y/N and Eris on more. The flames nearly reached the top of the trees. Eris’s power seemed to be amplified as he kissed Y/N. 

Y/N’s dress fell away from her chest and revealed her breasts and Eris kissed across her shoulder and down the valley of her breasts. 

“Eris,” Y/N panted, pulling on his hair. “Please!”

Eris smirked against her skin and stroked his tongue over her left nipple. Y/N arched forward craving more. 

He laid her down on her back and kissed down her body, savouring the gasps slipping from her lips as he spread her legs wide. She dripped onto the blanket beneath them. Y/N was sure she had never been this wet before. 

A brush of his fingertips over her core, sent Y/N gasping, thrusting her hips into his touch. 

Eris chuckled darkly. “You are a needy thing, my love.”

His words sent a tingle of pleasure throughout her body. “Only for you, Eris.”

“You are so desperate for me,” Eris said, his mouth nearing where Y/N craved him the most. “So wet.”

Y/N swore she saw stars as Eris wrapped his lips around that bundle of nerves. Her hand flew to his hair pulling his head closer to her as she fucked his face, taking as much pleasure as she wanted. 

Eris moaned at the taste. He would never admit to Y/N but he had fucked his fist many times at the thought of this. His head buried between her thighs drawing out the small desperate sounds. His fingers prodded her entrance as he harshly sucked her clit. 

Y/N felt like she was on cloud nine. She couldn;t clamp her legs together as Eris had a firm grip on one of them, keeping her spread open for him. Deep down she knew that she should be embarrassed. Anyone could walk upon the two of them and witness Y/N naked and fucking the High Lords face as he fucked her with his fingers. But she didn’t care, her focus was on the pleasure Eris was giving her. 

That feeling in the pit of Y/N’s stomach was building as Eris groaned against her clit as he ground his hips into the blanket beneath him. 

“You taste so good,” Eris fucked her faster with his fingers. “And the noises you make for me are music to my ears.”

Y/N let out a rather high pitch moan as he kissed her inner thighs. The pleasure within her was building but Y/N didn’t want to come this way. At least not the first time. She wanted to come with his face between her legs but the first time she wanted to come over his cock and milk him with everything she had. 

“Eris, I need you to fuck me now,” Y/N begged, her voice desperate. “I need it.”

Eris moved his mouth from her clit and removed his fingers and he slowly made his way back up her body, node brushing over her hot skin. He hovered over Y/N’s face as they panted, sharing each other’s air. Eris’s amber eyes were blown wide with desire and the fire reflected within them. Y/N cupped his face before smashing her lips onto his own. Is could taste herself on his tounge. 

There was nothing romantic about the kiss.Teeth clashed and Y/N harshly bit Eris’s lip. A low growl emitted from Eris as he thrust his hips harshly against Y/N’s. 

“Get on top of me,” Eris said and removed himself from Y/N and sat back. 

Y/N looked up and watched as he shrugged off his trousers, letting his cock spring free. Y/N’s mouth watered. Eris gave himself a few pumps before Y/N pounced on top of him. A low chuckle came from Eris as he wrapped his arms around Y/N, pressing her body tightly against his. 

Y/N was dripping with need as was Eris. Both of them needed one another, the bond connecting them flooded each of them with arousal. 

“Take what you need, my love,” Eris said, his tone surprisingly gentle as he caressed her cheek. 

One moment his hand was gently caressing her cheek and the next moment his was wrapped around her throat. A guttural moan left Y/N’s lips as Eris supplied the smallest amount of pressure. His rings dug into her skin, cool against the burning of her skin. 

Inch by inch Y/N sat down on him, her mouth open in a silent scream as she fully sunk down on him. He filled her perfectly. Almost immediately, Y/N began to move her hips, drawing out the pleasure. The small noises that came from Eris only made her move faster. Y/N was sure she had never been more aroused at the sound of a male moaning than she had when she listened to the noises Eris made. She never wanted to stop hearing them. 

The grip Eris had on Y/N’s throat tightened as he smirked. “Take it all, my love.”

Y/N moaned loudly and dug her nails into his broad shoulders. The feeling deep within her was rising and she raced to get there. 

“I need…” Y/N panted, completely absorbed in her pleasure. “Harder. Please Eris.”

Eris chuckled and laid down on the blanket and planted his feet firmly flat and thrust up into her, driving into her deeper than he had before. Y/N screamed as one of her hands fell from his shoulder and rubbed her clit. 

“Fuck,” Eris breathed. “You are so tight, love.”

Y/N attached her lips to his neck, just below his jaw. Eris let a loud moan slip past his lips as he gripped her ass, his fingers digging in harshly. Y/N already knew that she would be littered in small bruises. 

The fire around them roared as it circled the two in a fiery cocoon, blocking off any view of them within the flames. It didn’t hurt, the warmth was pleasant. Y/N sat up and moved her hips furiously on top of Eris. She was close and so was he. His own thrusts were getting sloppier and sloppier. 

Eris pushed her own hand away from her clit and he pressed his thumb against it and drew small circles around it. Y/N wined and scratched her nails down Eris’s chest. 

Y/N spoke incoherently as she begged Eris. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was begging for exactly but she needed to come. She desperately needed it. And from the sounds he was making, so was Eris. 

“Come for me, my love,” Eris said, gritting his teeth. “Come for me.”

Eris applied more pressure against her clit and after a few more thrusts, Y/N felt herself falling over that edge. She moaned so loudly that would have surely been heard if it wasn’t for the sound of the crackling fire drawing out the sound. The sounds that slipped from Y/N’s lips was enough to drag Eris over the edge with her, he spilled into her as his chest heaved up and down. Y/N rode him through his orgasm before coming to a stop. The fire around them died down until it was only a small ring of fire surrounding the two, barely a few inches in height. 

The two panted and tried to catch their breath. Eris gazed up at Y/N as she finally opened her eyes. Their eyes met and they smiled. Eris’s hair was a mess and the ends stuck up in many directions, a complete contrast from his usually immaculately styled hair. 

Y/N slipped off of Eris, his cum spilling out of her. If she wasn’t so exhausted, she would cringe at the feeling but she didn’t care. Eris pulled her down next to ehr and tucked her into his side. He brushed away the strands of hair that stuck to her sweaty face and gazed lovingly at her. Y/N curled into his side. 

Y/N savoured the feeling of the cool breeze. Her breathing was evening out as her and Eris laid there in silence. The only sound came from the small fire and the rustling of the trees. There was no one walking around the grounds. If there were, Y/N was sure they would not have approached. Either from the cocoon of fire or the loud moaning and slapping of skin that echoed throughout the grounds. 

“My mate,” Eris whispered. 

Y/N opened her eyes and found Eris grinning at her. Y/N suddenly wanted to shy away from his gaze. It was intense and full of love and passion. She was sure no one had ever looked at her that way before. 

Eris pressed a kiss against her forehead, his lips lingering there. “I am sure you do have some powers of your own.”

“What?” Y/N questioned. “How do you know?”

“Because I have never lost control of my power like that before,” Eris said. “I have been with females before and none of them have ever made me feel like that.”

“Isn’t it just the mating bond?” Y/N asked.

Eris lightly shook his head. “I don’t think so. My powers seemed amplified somehow. When you touched me for the first time all those months ago, I felt it then too. I did think it was just that mating bond, but it is definitely different.”

Y/N pressed a kiss against his jaw. “We can experiment with it.”

Eris nodded. “We can.” Eris pressed a kiss against her lips, full of tenderness and love. Their lips moved in sync as the kiss gradually got more and more desperate. “But first, I am going to fuck you again until you will not be able to walk in the morning.”

Y/N whimpered. “And what if I want to fuck you until you can’t walk.”

“Well, my dear Y/N, that can be arranged,” Eris said. “Because I will do anything you say. I am yours.”

Y/N smiled and smashed her lips against his. The fire grew around them once again.

[sadnymi]

「 ✦ Loml ✦ 」 p2,p3.

[Mattheo riddle × reader] [TTPD Masterlist]

Summary: You and Mattheo share a legendary love, the kind that makes you leave everything behind without regrets—your life, your friends, even your family. You're dead to them now, because how dare you be with the son of Voldemort? Everything seemed perfect until last night, when Mattheo didn't come home. When he finally did, you knew something terrible was about to happen.

Warnings: Angst , Angst , Angst ( you have been warned), smut , unprotected sex, strong language.

Words:4k

Mattheo didn’t come home last night, and I was losing my mind, worried sick about him. The hours dragged on, each minute a relentless torture of anxiety and fear. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Every creak of the house made my heart leap with hope, only to be disappointed each time. Where was he? What had happened?

It was well past midnight when I finally heard the front door creak open. my heart leaped into my throat. Relief washed over me, followed swiftly by a wave of emotions—anger, concern, love. Before I could say anything, he was there, his lips crashing onto mine in a desperate, hungry kiss.

“Mattheo,” I whispered against his mouth, but he silenced me with another kiss, more demanding this time. His hands roamed my body, pulling me closer as if he needed to reassure himself that I was real, that I was here.

"Mattheo, what's going on?" I tried to ask, but he silenced me with another fierce kiss, his fingers gripping my hips tightly.

"Mattheo," I whispered, cupping his cheek. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"

He shook his head slightly, his expression pained but determined. "Just let me have this." he said softly, his voice cracking.

I nodded and opened my mouth trying to ask him what was bothering him but my words were cut off as he bent me over, his fingers curling around the waistband of my pants, yanking them down. His breath was hot against my neck

He thrust into me hard and fast, the intensity of his movements leaving me breathless. I could tell something was off, but the way he was taking me left no room for questions. He was usually vocal, but now, he was almost eerily silent, his focus solely on the act itself.

“Did something happen baby?” I managed to gasp out between thrusts, my hands gripping the sheets.

He didn’t answer, just increased his pace, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room. The roughness of his touch, the ferocity of his rhythm—it was as if he was trying to drown out whatever was haunting him.

I could feel my orgasm building, the pressure inside me reaching a breaking point. “Mattheo, I’m gonna—”

My scream echoed through the room as I came, my body trembling with the force of it. He followed moments later, his release silent but powerful, his grip on me tightening as he shuddered against my back.

He pulled out and turned me around, lifting me onto the bed with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the roughness from before. His eyes were dark, filled with something I couldn’t quite place.

He kissed me softly, trailing down my body until his mouth was between my thighs. He licked and sucked, his tongue working magic as he brought me to another orgasm, my cries of pleasure mingling with his soft kisses.

When he was done, he moved back up, his lips brushing against every inch of my skin, his hands caressing me as if committing every curve to memory. He entered me again, this time slow and gentle, his eyes locked onto mine.

He held my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had formed. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“I love you too,” I replied, my heart aching with the intensity of my feelings.

He moved within me with deliberate slowness, each thrust a silent promise. I wrapped my arms around him, clinging to him as if he might disappear at any moment. We reached our climax together, the wave of pleasure washing over us in perfect sync.

“Are you okay?” I asked softly when we were done, my head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He didn’t answer, just held me tighter, his arms a protective cocoon around me. There was something in his silence, something heavy and unspoken.

“Mattheo,” I whispered again, but he simply kissed my forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than usual.

I wanted to push, to demand answers, but exhaustion overtook me. I fell asleep in his arms, my last conscious thought a prayer that whatever was haunting him, we would face it together.

The next morning, I woke up to find the space beside me empty. My heart sank, the unease from the night before creeping back in. I slipped out of bed and padded across the room, spotting Mattheo on the balcony. He was leaning against the railing, a cigarette in his hand, the early morning light casting a soft glow on his features.

I walked up to him, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Good morning," I murmured, wrapping my arms around him from behind and resting my head on his back. He didn't respond, just took another drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling upwards into the crisp air.

"Mattheo," I started, my voice tentative, "please talk to me. What's going on?"

Silence.

I tightened my arms around him slightly, trying to convey my concern and love through the embrace. "You were so distant last night. You scared me. I need to know what's bothering you."

Still, no answer.

"Is it something I did? Something that happened? Please, Mattheo, just tell me. We can face it together."

He remained quiet, staring out into the distance, his body tense against mine.

"Mattheo, please don't shut me out."

He took another slow drag, exhaling the smoke with a sigh, but said nothing. I could feel the wall between us, thicker than ever, and it broke my heart.

"Do you not trust me?" I asked, my voice cracking with emotion. "You said you love me, and I believe you. But if you don't let me in, how can fix whatever is bothering you now?"

He flicked the cigarette butt over the railing, watching it fall before finally turning to face me. His eyes were dark, filled with a turmoil I couldn't decipher. I reached up to touch his face, but he caught my hand, holding it tightly in his own.

His grip on my hand was firm as he turned away from the balcony, leading us back into the room. He sank into the couch. I stood there, watching him, my heart aching with the weight of his silence.

Memories flooded my mind, moments that defined us, that showcased the depth of our connection. I remembered the first time I saw him, standing in the shadows of Hogwarts' library. His eyes, dark and intense, met mine and I felt an inexplicable pull towards him. Despite his infamous last name, there was something in him that I couldn't ignore.

The wizarding world saw him in two extremes: as a legacy of power or as a monster. To me, he was neither. He was Mattheo, the boy who found solace in the pages of old books, who laughed freely with me by the Black Lake, and who kissed me tenderly in hidden corridors.

I remembered the night we decided to leave it all behind. The weight of his family's name haunted him, the expectations and fears others placed on him were suffocating. We chose love over legacy, escaping to a place where he wasn't seen as the heir to a dark throne, but simply as a man in love.

I remembered the first time he had said, **"You're the love of my life,"** when we were just kids. His words had been simple, but they had held a promise that resonated through the years and since then he won’t stop to remind me of it every chance he gets. We left the grandeur of wizarding society for a small, quiet life in the countryside. It was a decision that felt right, a decision I'd make a million times over without regret.

I moved to sit beside him on the couch. "Hey," I said softly, trying to catch his eye. "Baby, please, what is bothering you?"

He remained a statue, his body rigid, his gaze fixed on a spot on the floor far beyond me. It was like staring into a stranger's eyes, devoid of the warmth and affection that used to light them up whenever he looked at me.

"Okay," I tried again, my voice cracking under the strain. "So... what about we go to that place you like tonight?Remember, we were talking about—"

"We are not going anywhere," he cut me off, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion. It sent a fresh wave of ice crashing through my veins.

Panic clawed at my throat. "Okay, we can stay home," I stammered, desperately searching for anything to break the suffocating silence, "make some ________ "

He stood up abruptly, his movement so sudden it startled me. My breath hitched in my throat as his towering figure loomed over me. The playful glint in his eyes, the one that used to make my heart skip a beat, was replaced with a cold,hard glint of something far more sinister.

The words died in my mouth when I saw the look on his face. It was a mix of anger, frustration, and something else I couldn't quite place – a flicker of regret, maybe? But it was quickly overshadowed by the other emotions, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Don't you get it?" he spat, his voice laced with a bitterness I'd never heard before. "This was never supposed to be serious. It was fun, a distraction, but nothing more."

My breath hitched. Distraction?

"But... but I..." I stammered, the words catching in my throat.

"You what, Y/N?" He scoffed, the sound harsh and unforgiving. "Did you think being with me was some grand fairytale? You know who I am, Y/N. There's a legacy to uphold, a family to consider. Did you think you, with your… your ordinary life, could ever fit into that?"

His words, each one laced with disdain, ripped through me like a knife. Ordinary. Was that all I was to him?

"But…" I stammered, my voice choked with unshed tears. "We… we built a beautiful life together. We talked about our future we__"

He scoffed, a harsh, humorless sound. "Future? Y/N, you left your life for me. Your family, your friends, everything. Did you really think I'd just abandon everything I have, my legacy, for… for you?"

"I… I never asked you to abandon anything," I whispered, tears blurring my vision. My voice was barely audible, a broken plea lost in the suffocating silence of the room.

"But you did," he countered, his voice growing colder with every word. "You disrupted the plan. You made me question everything."

"But I love you," I whispered, the words fragile and broken. "I gave up everything for you."

His answer was a cruel laugh. "Love? Don't be ridiculous. You were just young and naive, Y/N. You thought escaping your family drama meant finding some happily ever after. This isn't some storybook”

The pain was a physical entity now, a vise tightening around my chest, squeezing the air out of my lungs.

"Did you ever loved me, Mattheo? Or was it just another lie?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. The question hung heavy in the air, a desperate plea for a shred of hope in the midst of this crushing despair.

He met my gaze, his eyes devoid of warmth, devoid of anything resembling the love I had seen reflected there countless times before. "No," he said, the word sharp and final. "I liked you, Y/N. I enjoyed the… distraction. But this? This isn't love."

I looked up at him, searching his eyes for a flicker of the warmth we once shared. I sank onto the couch, my tears falling uncontrollably.

He took a step back, his eyes holding a flicker of something that looked suspiciously like guilt. But it was quickly replaced by a cold indifference that sent a fresh wave of pain crashing over me.

"I'll leave," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "You can stay here."

He grabbed his phone and keys from the coffee table, his movements mechanical, devoid of the warmth that used to characterize even his most mundane actions.

I sat there, numb, watching him walk towards the door. The sound of the door slamming shut echoed in the room, each reverberation a physical blow to my heart. It was then, as the final echo died down, that the dam broke.

A sob escaped my lips, a raw, primal sound that tore through the silence. I crumpled onto the couch, my body racked with sobs. The pain felt like a physical entity, a crushing weight in my chest, stealing my breath and blurring the world around me.

We almost had it all. Almost.

The space beside me in the bed remained stubbornly empty, a constant reminder of the gaping hole Mattheo's absence had ripped in my life. The night after he left, I lay there, a hollow shell staring at the ceiling. My body ached with a dull throb,the aftermath of the storm that had raged within me. Sleep was a distant dream, replaced by a relentless torrent of tears that threatened to drown me.

Days blurred into one another. I became a prisoner in my own apartment, trapped in the agonizing limbo of grief. Getting out of bed felt like a herculean task, the simple act of breathing a burden. Time stretched before me, an endless expanse of grey, devoid of colour or joy.

The silence in the apartment was deafening, broken only by the occasional choked sob that escaped my lips. The remnants of our life together mocked me - a half-finished puzzle on the coffee table, his abandoned toothbrush in the bathroom, the scent of his cologne that clung stubbornly to his favourite armchair.

Grief twisted within me, manifesting in a kaleidoscope of emotions. Rage surged through me in hot waves, followed by crushing despair that left me weak and breathless. I'd scream into pillows, the sound muffled and distorted, a hollow echo of the pain tearing at me.

In a fit of blind fury, I hurled a picture frame across the room, the glass shattering into a million pieces on impact. The sound was almost satisfying, a momentary release from the suffocating silence within. But even the destruction brought no solace. The room, once a symbol of our love, now mirrored the fractured state of my heart.

Exhaustion eventually claimed me, pulling me into a restless sleep. Dreams offered no solace, only a cruel twist of reality.I dreamt of Mattheo, his eyes filled with regret, his lips brushing against mine as he whispered apologies, promises that he didn't mean it, that he loved me.

Then, with a jolt, I woke up. The stark reality of the empty bed, the chilling silence, slammed back into me. It was a dream, a cruel mirage in the desert of my grief. Tears welled up again, hot and stinging, as the realization settled in - he wasn't coming back.

The sting of the hot water had done little to soothe the raw ache in my chest. Stepping out of the shower, I wrapped myself in a towel, the reflection in the mirror a stranger staring back. My eyes, once sparkling with life, were bloodshot and puffy from days of relentless crying. My skin, usually vibrant with a healthy glow, was pale and drawn. I barely recognized myself.

Back in the bedroom, the emptiness hit me with renewed force. Each creak of the floorboard, each tick of the clock echoed the hollowness within. My gaze fell on a crumpled piece of paper lying innocuously on my bed. A surge of confusion washed over me. I hadn't placed anything there.

Frantic, I searched the room, the silence broken only by the ragged gasps escaping my lips. There was no one here; Mattheo was gone. A bitter laugh escaped me, the irony laced with a fresh wave of tears. He'd warned me – never trust anyone. But where was he now, the one person I'd trusted with my entire heart?

Picking up the paper, I unfolded it, hands trembling. The words scrawled across the page were written in an ancient language, one I recognized from my dusty spellbooks. But what caught my eye was the line at the top – "From a friend." A friend? In the wreckage of my world, the concept felt alien.

The spell itself was simple, its purpose clear – to numb the pain. It promised a temporary reprieve from the agonizing ache that threatened to consume me. But a tiny voice whispered a warning deep within. Magic always came with a price and this spell must be forbidden for a reason.

Tears blurred my vision as I stared at the parchment. What was the worst that could happen?

Numbness. That's what I craved. It seemed like a small price to pay when compared to the excruciating pain that gnawed at my very core. Didn't I deserve some peace, even if it was temporary?

With a shaky hand, I reached for my wand. The familiar weight in my palm felt foreign, a stark reminder of the life I used to lead – a life filled with laughter, love, and magic. Now, it held the potential for oblivion, a desperate escape from the unbearable reality.

Taking a deep breath, I whispered the incantation, the ancient words tasting bitter on my tongue. A faint blue light emanated from the tip of my wand, engulfing me in a cool embrace. For a moment, there was nothing – no pain, no sorrow, just an emotionless void.

The first few days were a blur. I spent them curled up in bed, staring listlessly at the ceiling, the world fading into a muted backdrop. The spell wore off after a few hours, but the return of pain was a stronger than ever. So, I cast it again.

Then again.

And again.

What started as an occasional escape became a daily ritual. The once faint blue light became a familiar glow, casting an eerie light on my deteriorating world. Soon, once a day wasn't enough. Twice became the norm, then three, then a constant hum of magic thrummed in the air around me, a desperate attempt to outrun the pain.

A metallic tang filled my mouth, jolting me awake. Blood. My nose was bleeding, a crimson stain blooming down the front of my nightgown. Panic clawed at my throat, a sharp contrast to the dull ache that had become my constant companion.

This wasn't normal. The numbness, the shield I had built around my heart, it was slipping. The raw, agonizing grief threatened to consume me once more. But the familiar blue light, once my solace, refused to respond. My wand trembled in my hand, the incantation stumbling on my tongue, the ancient words feeling foreign and hollow.

A strange dizziness washed over me, the room tilting at an alarming angle. My vision blurred, the edges of the room dissolving into swirling colors. A wave of nausea hit me, bile rising in my throat. This wasn't just the pain returning; this was something different, something terrifyingly new.

My body, once numb to all sensation, ignited in protest. A dull ache that had become my baseline morphed into a searing pain that radiated from my core. My limbs grew heavy, a strange tingling sensation creeping up my extremities. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the fear coursing through me.

Tears, long forgotten, welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision even further. I stumbled out of bed, my legs shaky and uncoordinated. The world swam before me, the once-familiar room morphing into a maze of threatening shadows.

The next day dawned, bringing no relief. The symptoms, once a terrifying novelty, became a relentless onslaught. My body wracked with chills one moment, then burning with an internal fever the next. Blood, not just from my nose but also from my mouth, stained everything I touched, a grotesque reminder of my deteriorating state.

Weakness, crippling and pervasive, enveloped me. As I tried to rise from my bed, the world tilted violently, and my vision swam with black spots. A scream ripped from my throat, a scream, desperate plea for help that echoed unanswered in the empty apartment.

Then, darkness threatened to consume me. I felt myself falling, the floor rushing up to meet me. But just before the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness claimed me, a strong pair of hands gripped my body, arresting my fall.

Disoriented and delirious, I blinked, my vision blurry. Through the haze, a familiar face materialized.

"Y/N?Can you hear me love?" A voice, urgent and laced with panic, called my name. It sounded distant, muffled, as if filtered through water. But the warmth of the hand holding me, the metallic scent of my blood staining his fingers, these were real.

This wasn't a dream. It was him.

"What have you done, love?" Mattheo's voice, ragged with worry, reached me through the haze of pain engulfing my body. I wanted to answer, to tell him everything, but the words wouldn't form. The pain that had been a constant ache in my heart had become a monstrous beast clawing at every inch of me.

"It hurt so much," I managed to gasp, tears mixing with the blood trickling down my nose.

His hands were gentle but firm, cradling me, wiping away the blood and the tears with a tenderness that brought a flicker of warmth to the icy grip of fear that had taken hold. "I know, baby, I know," he murmured, desperation lacing his voice. "Just tell me, please, what have you done?"

"I just wanted it to stop," I rasped, pointing weakly at my heart, its every beat a thrumming ache. “ it hurt so much.”

My gaze drifted beyond his shoulder, and a flicker of disbelief sparked through the fog clouding my mind. There, in the doorway, stood the man whose name had only been whispered in hushed tones – the man who controlled Mattheo's destiny, his father.

"He… he's back?" My voice was a rasp, barely audible, the metallic tang of blood filling my mouth.

"Shh, love, don't try to talk," Mattheo soothed, his grip tightening protectively around me.

"What have you done to her?" He turned to his father, his voice sharp as a knife.

"Just showed her a way to numb the pain," the man replied with chilling indifference. In that moment, the fear I felt transcended human comprehension.

He looked exactly like the villains from my childhood fairytales, the embodiment of pure evil.

So this was the reason behind the shift in Mattheo, the darkness that had threatened to consume him.

Fear clawed at me, but I managed to reach for Mattheo's hand, finding strength in his warm touch. His other hand stroking my hair grounded me.

"Don't be afraid, love," he murmured into my hair.

"It wasn't the deal!" Mattheo said, his voice laced with a fury I'd never witnessed before. "I told you I would leave her, I would leave everything, but you just had to leave her out of it!"

"I'm helping you, child," the man said, his voice devoid of emotion. "You pushed her away, but you love her. That cannot happen. You need to get rid of your weakness."

"Shut up!" Mattheo snarled, his eyes blazing. "Shut the fuck up. You leave her out of this!"

I choked on a fresh wave of blood, the world spinning wildly. This was too much, far too much. A terrible realization dawned on me – I was dying.

But at least I was dying in Mattheo's arms, and in that moment, I knew he didn't mean the cruel words he'd spoken. He was just trying to protect me.

"You're not dying," Mattheo whispered fiercely, as if reading my mind. "You're not dying, baby. I won't allow it."

"It's okay," I rasped, my voice barely audible.

"It's not!" he argued, his voice thick with desperation. I reached out, my trembling hand finding his. He squeezed it back, his touch a beacon of strength in the storm.

"Can you say it like you used to ? can you tell me that you love me?" My voice was barely a whisper. "I want to hear you say it one last time."

"No, because you are not dying," he insisted, turning his blazing gaze back to his father. "Save her, do something and save her or I swear, I won't just leave you. I will make sure to ruin you, ruin everything you built, kill you for good this time."

Another cough, another surge of blood. My vision blurred at the edges.

"Mattheo," I whispered, my voice weak but determined.

He looked down at me, his face etched with agony. "You're not dying," he repeated, his voice a desperate plea.

"Look at me, love," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "Keep your eyes on me. Keep those beautiful eyes on me, baby."

With a final surge of strength, I mustered a smile. "I love you," I whispered. "I love you so much."

He cupped my face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "You're the love of my life, and I love you more than life itself," he declared, his voice thick with emotion.

A weak smile touched my lips. Before darkness threatened to claim me, a single thought brought a sliver of peace. He loved me. That was all that mattered.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Do you think she will survive? 🙄

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 (part two) | neil lewis x reader

read part 1 first!!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you've been best friends with neil basically your entire life, and secretly in love with him almost as long. now, you have to wonder if it's time to move on... or if that's even possible.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 10k

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut, angst, pining/unrequited love - 18+ only

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | hangovers, jealousy/mega angst, smut (finally; unprotected sex, bondage mention, crying during sex/slight dacryphilia) and fluff/emotions

You were draped over the couch limply, groaning as you held a frozen bag of peas to your head— and used it to cover your eyes, because everything was just too fucking bright.

“You look like one of those weed commercials,” Jonathan informed you with a frown.  “Like, the one with the deflated girl.”

“Those aren’t commercials for weed, dumbass,” Lucien snarked.  “They’re PSAs.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Jonathan shrugged, “I only watch TV when I’m stoned.”

“How are you even alive right now?” you asked Jonathan with a whine.  “Like, how are you doing anything more than this?  ‘Cause I’m just doing this and I think I’m dying.”

“The secret is not being a lightweight,” Jonathan explained.

“Don’t listen to him,” Neil warned, “his liver’s like a rotten egg.  You should be proud to be a lightweight— actually, I’m still not sure why you got so wrecked last night.”

“You’re just jealous you weren’t invited,” Jonathan quipped, and you were too busy keeping your eyes shut to see if Neil actually reacted to that.

“Are you actually planning to do any work today?” Lucien wondered.  “Or are you getting paid to lay around complaining?”

“Are you getting paid to be so bitchy?” you shot back.  “Just make it my paid sick leave.”

“Sick, yes; paid, yes,” Jonathan noticed, “but you didn’t actually leave.”

“If she wants to spend her sick day here, she can,” Neil decided, “it’s not like she’s contagious.”

“She might be, if she talks you all into coming out again tonight,” Jonathan laughed, but you barely let him finish.

“No fucking way,” you interjected instantly, “I’m never drinking again.”

“But the best cure for a hangover is liquor!” Jonathan insisted.

“That’s the most alcoholic advice I’ve ever heard you give,” Lucien scolded.  “Next you’ll say you should drink in the mornings to perk up.”

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Neil decided.

“See!” Jonathan yelped triumphantly.

“No, not booze— kid, you want me to get you a coffee or something?” Neil offered instead.  You could tell he’d stepped a little closer from the sound of his voice— and he was speaking a little softer, too.  You hesitantly peeled the bag off your head— just partially, that is— and squinted one eye open; thankfully, his head was blocking most of the overhead light as he looked down at you.  “There’s that place on the corner, I could just run and get it real quick—”

“I’m okay,” you smiled back, “but thanks.”

“Not even a hot chocolate?”

You already felt warm inside from him saying that, no hot beverage required.  You shook your head and he shrugged as he walked away.  “Just let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” you hummed.  You liked this, actually— him taking care of you.  It wasn’t the first time of course, you’d gotten sick your fair share of times while knowing him and he’d usually come over and help how he could (which was mostly in the form of takeout soup and entertainment).  But now you imagined it a little… cozier: him wrapping you up in a blanket and then in his arms, checking your temperature by putting his hand to your forehead, letting you drift to sleep on him while he read to you or something.  

You probably could’ve dozed off as you imagined that little fantasy world, if it weren’t for Neil breaking the silence a minute later.  “You know, I was thinking about changing things up a bit,” he said suddenly.

“Please, please, do not try to grow a goatee again,” Lucien begged.  As you and Jonathan erupted in a chorus of disgusted agreement, Neil spoke over you all.

“I meant the store!” he promised.  “The shelves— and maybe some of the posters, I don’t know.”

“Or you can finally take my idea and start renting porn,” Jonathan offered.

“First of all,” Neil explained, “technically, some of our inventory is considered erotic—”

“No no, not your weirdo French experimental softcore— the good stuff: college babes, horny stepmoms…” Jonathan began to list.

“And second of all,” Neil continued, but Jonathan was still going.

“Norwegian twins coming to America for a foreign exchange program—”

“Norwegian twins?” you repeated with a confused grimace.

“And second of all,” Neil began again, louder and with a scowl on his face, “we don’t have any good way to disinfect the tapes after people return them.”

“That’s a very good point,” Lucien noticed.

Much later in the day— after a few customers had come and gone, and Jonathan had left for the day, and the UPS guy had come by with a delivery of some new (old) movies to add to the store’s inventory— it ended up with you and Neil in his office.

You hadn’t tried to be in the same office at the same time, really… if anything, you were kind of avoiding him at the moment.  Not that you could actually avoid your boss while at work in such a small place— even if he wasn’t your best friend— but you’d been dodging the elephant in the room this whole time.

He sat at his desk and leaned back in the chair, putting one foot up against the desk to tilt back even further as he looked through the stack of mail.  For a minute, there was just silence, aside from you both just working.  Of course, it couldn’t last forever.

“You, uh, told me you were going back to yours last night,” Neil noticed as he sorted through the envelopes— you figured it was a matter of time before he mentioned it, unless he had a serious lapse of memory, but you still winced.

“Yeah, um, sorry, I just—”

“No, it’s fine,” he shrugged, not looking up from the mail, “you didn’t have to take me out with you— I was pretty beat anyways, I just… I’m just not sure why you didn’t tell me?”

“I— I was going home, really,” you explained, “I got there and I couldn’t sleep, and wine always makes me tired but I didn’t have any so—”

“So you did whiskey shots with Jonathan?”

God, you almost thought about saying it, even if it wasn’t true, just to piss him off.  Yeah— and we went back to his place and did the horizontal tango.  Would you like me to bring you the register?

Instead, you cleared your throat and set down the tapes.  “I don’t have to explain myself to you,” you told him; he looked up at you with a sort of deer-in-the-headlights look.

“I-I know,” he stammered out, “sorry, I was just… I’m curious, that’s all.”

“Well, maybe what Jonathan and I do is none of your business,” you replied, looking back down at the tapes as you fought down a smirk; you could feel his stare piercing through you, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of meeting your gaze.  Is that cryptic enough for you?  Maybe I should say something about how I don’t kiss and tell.

You almost hoped he’d go in for the kill— make some shitty comment about how you were a slut or how Jonathan was probably thinking about Norwegian twins the whole time— cause if he did, you could yell at him and you’d both get all worked up and maybe at least one of you would finally get out of control enough to say what you were really thinking.  Instead, he got sweet again; and that was even worse, because you couldn’t resist it.  “Wanna make cookies tonight?” he asked, randomly, softly.

“Yeah,” you smiled, “can we put potato chips in them?”

“You know, kid, I think you’re sort of an evil mastermind,” he grinned.

“Just a creative glutton,” you shrugged.

~

With the Jonathan thing behind you— if that was even really a thing— things felt back to normal with Neil.  Honestly, they might have been even better than they’d been in a while, since he wasn’t with Denise anymore.  Denise had never been jealous of you— she was just as confident as you were that you weren’t any kind of threat whatsoever— but she did whine about Neil spending more time with you than her… that is, when she actually wanted to be around Neil, which wasn’t always.  Sometimes, she seemed to appreciate you taking him off her hands, giving him an outlet for all the interests she found irritating.

But, anyways, she was gone, and you were giving up on dating (again), and Neil wasn’t being weird and you guys made cookies and it was great.  It was easy to remember how you'd survived in this cycle for so long.  Because as much as you were probably not the world's best person, you absolutely were not pretending to be Neil's friend because you had a crush— no, he really was the most important person to you, you just also wanted to touch him in all those ways that friends weren't supposed to.

You were almost giddy, high on how good it was to be back to your usual; the night before had been just perfect, like the old times, like high school— in all the best ways.

You'd probably seen him every day for the past two weeks— either at work, at his place or yours— and you had no plans to stop.  That was pretty normal for you two anyways.  You had the day off from work so you hadn't seen him yet; yes, you had considered stopping by the store anyways since Jonathan came in when he wasn't working, but you'd been too busy with your own errands and catching up on tasks at home.

Figuring it was a matter of time before Neil called you and asked to come over— or just showed up— you gave him a call around nine (knowing the store had just closed) and felt yourself get even just a little more energized when he answered.

"Hey, kid," his voice came from the other end, low and dreamy.  He was speaking softly, like it was a secret conversation, and that just made your heart beat a little faster.

“I think I’ve found the perfect movie to go with the last of the leftover cookies,” you grinned.  “I was going through my old tapes and— do you remember that weird Italian movie we watched in high school?  I think it must’ve been senior year because I remember we watched it while everyone was doing skip day— and we thought it was the funniest thing we’d ever seen— and I found it again!  Maybe it’s not as good as I remember, but I’ll bring it over and we can cover up the subtitles and see if we can guess what the hell they’re talking about.”

“Yeah, actually—”

“Oh!  Also, is it cool if I crash at yours after?  I’ll bring my own pajamas this time— and toothbrush, sorry about having to borrow yours, but—”

“Listen, um,” he coughed, lowering his voice even more, “that sounds great— but I, uh… I sort of have company for the night."

“Oh?” you blurted out, like you’d been punched in the gut— it sure felt like it.  “Oh, that’s… anybody I know?”

“No, um, we met today,” he explained.  “She, uh, came by the video store and we got to talking.”

Whore.  “Let me guess, showing her something from the private collection?” you asked— and you really did mean to refer to his literal DVD shelf, but he let out a sort of salacious chuckle.

“If all goes well,” he replied with a purr.

“R-right, well, sorry for calling—”

“No no, it’s fine,” he promised, “we’ll talk tomorrow?”

Tomorrow.  Yes, tomorrow, because I always come back, no matter how bad it hurts.  “Yeah,” you breathed.  “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” he returned, and you kept holding the phone to your ear long after the click and dial tone.

You knew you had absolutely no right to be jealous.  Honestly, you weren’t— well, you definitely were, but that wasn’t why you ran to your bed and sobbed into it.  You did that because of the hate you felt— some for Neil, some for little miss I go back to video store owner’s apartments, but plenty leftover for yourself.  You had only been through as much as you put yourself through; as much as you allowed to happen.  You stayed by his side all these years and let your heart get battered around… it wasn’t always this hard, and you used to be sure that it would be harder to stop being his sidekick.  But you couldn’t do this anymore— it was just humiliating, and useless.

You thought about calling Jonathan, but you felt guilty dumping any more weepy girl problems on him.  And, you know, that wouldn’t actually fix anything.  There was only one way to fix this, but you didn’t think you were strong enough— you knew you weren’t, actually.

It was hard to say why this one hurt so much— it’s not like you thought Neil was a virgin or something, or genuinely expected him to stay chaste after breaking up with Denise— but you suspected it was because you yourself were recognizing how long you’d been stuck in this cycle with him.  You remembered crying in your bed just like this when he got his first girlfriend junior year; you realized how little you’d changed since then.  How little you’d grown up.

So, no, you weren’t just crying because you were that jealous he was going to have sex with some random woman.  But you had to admit that was definitely part of it.

~

"Hey boss," Jonathan greeted as Neil walked in; you looked down at the tapes on the shelf in front of you, suddenly making yourself look very busy.  "How's the walk of shame?"

"I prefer 'stride of pride'," Neil replied.

“So that girl really came over after close?” Lucien realized.

“Yeah, she, uh, wanted to see The Seventh Seal,” Neil explained.

“I’m suuuuure she did,” Jonathan purred, raising his eyebrows repeatedly.

“Girls never wanna watch that,” Lucien assured.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Neil scoffed, turning to you.  “You like it, right, kid?”

“I, um… yeah,” you mumbled— whatever you had to say to end this conversation.

“Well, did she like it?” Lucien wondered.

“Uh, we… we didn’t actually finish it,” Neil admitted, and Lucien laughed as he shoved him on the shoulder.

You glanced at Jonathan, but he was already looking at you— and you hated the pity in his eyes, so you looked away again.

They kept talking, but you couldn’t hear it over the sound of… whatever sound it makes inside your head when you’re trying not to cry at work.

~

You didn’t do it that same day: it would be too suspicious, and you didn’t want to make a rash decision while you were still so upset.  Part of you was still hoping to get through this phase and go back to the ignorant bliss you’d had so recently.  But you didn’t, and you could tell that Neil sensed something was wrong— you had been sort of avoiding him for a few days while you tried to decide what to do.

But now, you’d decided.  You reached up to knock on his office door— Neil Lewis, P.I. embossed on the frosted glass— but you sighed and dropped your fist, just opening the door instead.

He was so focused on what he was working on that he didn’t look up— and he didn’t even seem to fully process that you had come in, or that you were standing there right in front of him.  Obviously he knew you were standing there, but he let you stand there for an awkwardly long time without asking what you wanted.

You appreciated it, though, ‘cause it gave you a while to watch him uninterrupted, wondering if you might never see him so relaxed again.

“Hey, Neil…” you mumbled, and he didn’t look up from his desk.  “Um…”

Not sure what else to say, you just handed him the paper.  He finally gave you a sliver of his attention to take it, smiling in slight confusion as he looked up at you.  “What is this?”

“It’s my two weeks.”

His smile fell.  “What?”

Oh, you hated doing this— it broke your heart, seeing that look on his face.  “I, uh, I just think it’s better if I—”

“No, wait,” he breathed, standing up, “you— come on, you can’t.  It’s— what’s going on?!”

“Nothing,” you insisted as you shook your head, “I just need, uh— nothing’s going on.”

I just need some space, you were gonna say, but you knew that would just open up more questions.  “Well, are you gonna work somewhere else?” he asked.  “Are you still gonna come by, or will I just see you on movie nights?”

“I— well, I wasn’t sure about movie nights either, actually,” you admitted, and he laughed— but it wasn’t a happy laugh, it was a confused, breathless, almost angry sort of laugh.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” he snapped.  “I— you’re my best friend!  Did I do something?  ‘Cause listen, I wasn’t serious about you offering to date guys who come into the store— I swear I was joking— god, I’m an asshole—”

“No, Neil, it’s not that, that was weeks ago,” you sighed, crossing your arms.  “I just… think maybe we’ve been friends so long, you know, and it’s like— why?”

“Why?” he repeated.

“Like, maybe we just think we have to be friends because we’ve always been friends,” you continued, “but maybe we should be like normal people and— and grow apart over time.  We were really close in high school because we were the losers that everyone ignored and now… now I think we should just… grow up.”

He looked bewildered— he looked devastated, actually.  He shook his head, breathing out a quick sigh, and you weren’t sure if he was even really listening to you but you kept going.

“Sometimes I think I can’t get a boyfriend because guys are weirded out by you— I mean, not like that,” you backtracked slightly.  “Well, kind of… but I meant, like, they don’t get that we’re just friends, and they think that you’re just trying to sleep with me—”

“Well, fuck them!” he shouted, a little louder than you would’ve preferred since everyone else was on the other side of that door.  “I mean, if they don’t get us, then who fucking cares?  They’re idiots, then!”

“Yeah, but—”

“I mean, you think I’d date a girl who didn’t want me to be around you?” he returned.  “You shouldn’t be with somebody who thinks like that.”

“Well, that’s easy for you to say, but—”

“But what?”

“But I’m lonely, Neil!” you shouted, immediately reaching to cover your mouth after you said it— mostly to hide your quivering lip.  “God,” you choked, lowering your head down to cover your watering eyes instead, “I’m just fucking… tired of being alone, okay?”

“So, what, you’re gonna leave all your friends?” he said, softer.  “Because you want a boyfriend?  That’s kinda… shallow.”

“What do you expect me to do?  Wait around forever?"

"Wait?” he repeated, giving you a confused look.  “Wait on what?"

You bit your lip.  You couldn't answer that— you couldn't admit that you'd been waiting for him all this time.  It's not like he'd asked you to, or expected you to, so you really couldn't be mad at him.  You wanted to be, of course, but you couldn't.  "I just need to leave, Neil," you whispered, knowing you'd sob harder if you spoke any louder.  "I'm sorry.  I just need to leave."

You turned, reaching for the door, and his hand suddenly came to your shoulder. His voice was needy and quiet: "You can't go, kid—"

"Don't fucking call me kid!" you spat, shoving him away as you cried harder.  "I hate when you call me that!"

I love when you call me that.  I hate that I love when you call me that.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't know, okay?  Whatever I did wrong, I'm sorry.  I guess I should let you go, right?  Or I'm just making it worse…”

You weren’t sure what you wanted, really.  You wanted just as much for him to finally give you the dignity you’d been craving and let you leave, as you did for him to grab you and hold you tight and tell you that you had to stay, that he needed you to stay.

“If you wanna quit, you can quit— no two weeks needed, we’ll be fine,” he promised.  “But… are you still gonna come back tomorrow?”

He wasn’t asking about tomorrow— he was asking about every day.  Tomorrow, the next day, the next, the next after that: he was asking you to rot your life away on that couch watching weird old movies with him.  And in a way, that was all you wanted.  That part you really could do forever.  But watching him get new girlfriends, get dumped, get over it— that cycle was just going to get worse and, god forbid, you’d have to see him really truly happy with someone else.  It just wasn’t fair to anyone anymore.

You didn’t answer his question, you just looked at him again.  He looked back at you in disbelief— you hadn’t meant to blindside him like this, but it was the only way to get a semi-clean break.  You hadn’t meant to cry either, though, but that was pretty much unavoidable.  “You’re really leaving?” he said quietly in sober realization, and you bit your shaking lip as you nodded.  He looked around for a moment, as if he’d find answers somewhere in this office, and raised his hands before dropping them defeatedly.  “Why?”

You thought about how to answer that for a while— longer than was natural in a conversation.  There were a thousand things to say, but only one came out, as quiet as a whisper.  “I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

"I never wanted to hurt you," he promised.

"I know," you breathed, finally turning the knob and stepping out.

You tried to act natural, but that was impossible with tears streaming down your face.  "What's up?" Jonathan asked, more neutrally than you expected, and you broke: you hid your face and ran towards the door, bolting out of the store and down the street.  Just before you stepped out you heard Jonathan ask Neil, "Dude, what did you say to her?!"

"I didn't say anything!" Neil insisted, but you didn't care to stay to hear the rest, you just wanted to be as far away from Gumshoe Video as possible.

~

When you heard a knock at the door, you paused Casablanca and brushed the used tissues off your coffee table.  “Who is it?” you called out, sitting up slightly on the couch.

“Um,” you heard Neil’s voice from the other side, and you groaned as you curled up in a ball, “I was just checking in—”

“Go. Away.” you warned sternly.

“Can’t you just let me in?” he whined, but that’s when he tried the knob, and realized the door was unlocked.  You heard the door open and shrunk up tighter into your fetal position as he entered.  

“Hey, I, uh,” he began nervously, raising his hands in a wave but then slapping them down on his legs when he didn’t get a response, “I just… wanted to talk to you…”

You didn’t respond, and in the tense silence, he must have glanced at the TV.

“Good choice,” he noticed.

“Did Jonathan tell you?” you asked right away— because that was the worst thing that could happen.  Him coming here just because he felt bad, because he found out you loved him, not because he really loved you.  The last thing you needed was Neil talking himself into liking you just to keep you from leaving him.

“Tell me what?” Neil said earnestly.  You peeked your head out and looked at him, assessing with narrow eyes.  “Seriously, what does Jonathan know that I don’t?”

“Nothing, sorry,” you shook your head.  “You can, uh… you can say whatever it is you came here to say.”

“Oh, well, I… I kinda didn’t plan that part,” he admitted with an awkward chuckle, scratching the back of his neck.

“You said you wanted to talk to me,” you remembered.

“Yeah, but I didn’t really have any steps after that,” he sighed, and you groaned as you hid your face again.

“God, Neil, that is just like you!” you whined.

“Well, sorry!  You haven’t been talking to me, I wasn’t sure you’d let me in!” he defended.  “What am I supposed to think!”

“You’re supposed to have some kind of… speech, or something!” you explained.

“I can’t believe I’m finally the one saying this,” he said, smirking a bit, “but life isn’t like the movies, kid.”

You showed your face again, and you looked at his, and you couldn’t think of a better word for his expression than just sad.  Not a beautiful word, not a very interesting one, but the best way to describe him right then.  He looked just as miserable as you felt— and that, weirdly, comforted you a little.  You’d wondered if he was just fine without you (not that you really thought he was, with how dramatic he could be).  “Why can’t it be?” you asked quietly.

He sighed and sat down on the couch beside you; you moved your feet closer to make room for him.  “I don’t know,” he admitted, “I kinda thought our life was a movie— best friends, running a small business, getting into shenanigans…”

“Shenanigans?” you repeated incredulously.

“Well, you know, something like that,” he replied.

“It was like a movie, kind of, for a while,” you agreed.  A sad movie about a stupid lonely girl.

“I just always thought—” he began, but you tightened your jaw and interrupted him.

“What was the plan, huh?  What did you really expect to happen?” you snapped.  “That we could just… do this, forever?”

“Yeah, basically!” he shouted back.  “Why not?”

“Why not?!” you repeated.  “Neil, didn’t you think I’d ever find somebody?  Did you think I could fall asleep on your fucking couch with a husband and baby at home?”

“I— I don’t know,” he admitted, losing some of his nerve as he seemed to watch his own logic fall apart.  “I just figured you wouldn’t be with anybody who didn’t, you know, understand us!”

“I don’t understand us anymore!” you whined, setting your legs back down on the floor so you could face him better.  “It’s like— it’s just like it was in high school!  You know, I could’ve been popular if it wasn’t for you!”

“Yeah, if it wasn’t for me, and that pesky ‘who you really are’ thing!” he scoffed.  “Is that what you wanted, to be fake like everyone else?”

“No,” you admitted, “but I’m saying it’s the same thing— I could have a real life, you know, if you weren’t always around!”

“Well, Jesus, I’m sorry for ruining your boring, normal life with my weirdness,” he offered sarcastically.  “See, this whole time, I thought you were cool, but I guess you’re just a poser!”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands, “that’s your dig?  Poser?  Are you fucking fourteen?!”

“I’d rather be a little immature than be fake,” he decided, crossing his arms proudly.

“Okay, well I’d rather be fake than be alone,” you replied, anger melting away into sadness once again; you bit your shaking lip and looked away.

“You shouldn’t have to choose,” he sighed, leaning in a bit closer to you.  “Of course I figured you’d find somebody, someday— somebody who really appreciates you, you know?  Somebody cool.  And he and I could be friends, too— I always figured he’d have a really cool name like… I don’t know, like Augustus or Rutherford or something.”

“Rutherford?” you repeated with a small grimace.

“That’s not the point— I just mean that he’d be kinda pretentious but, like, fun.  And rich.  And you could invite me over to swim in your pool and play croquet and stuff.”

You laughed a little, then sniffled.  Of course that’s what he thought rich people did.

“And you’d have kids, and they’d call me Uncle Neil,” he continued, “and I’d get them on the really cool stuff, you know— none of that Disney Channel crap, they’d be watching indie flicks and German expressionism before they even hit high school; gotta start ‘em early.”

“But what about you?” you asked.  “Where do you end up?”

“I… I don’t know,” he shrugged.  “I guess I just figured I’d always be here.”

You found yourself moving in a little closer— close enough that you had to look up at him slightly even while just sitting on the couch.  “So you really never thought about it?” you pressed, biting your lip, and you clarified even though it kind of seemed like he knew what you meant.  “Us, together?”

“God, are you kidding?” he snorted.  “Of course I thought about it, I mean… yeah, I thought about it…”

His voice changed a little the second time he said it, and your heartbeat sped up just a bit.

“But every time I thought about it, I just got so— I don’t know— scared, I guess,” he said quietly.  

“Scared?” you repeated.

“‘Cause, you know… it’s me and you,” he explained, smiling a little.  “It’s us.  And I figured that if you and I got together… that would be, you know… that would be it.”

As you looked at him, you wondered if he could see everything in your eyes right then.

“And what if I wasn’t good enough for you, right?  What if I fucked this up, like I fuck up everything, and then we’re not even friends?” he sighed, shaking his head.  “And then— and then what am I supposed to do?  Just, like, not have you in my life?”

You opened your mouth to promise him that he’d always be in your life, that you could never really go on without him— even if you’d just threatened that and stormed out of the video store— but instead, only a wistful sigh came out.

“C’mon— I don’t even know who I am without you, kid,” he laughed, and your heart jumped.

“Okay,” you agreed quietly, “but what if you don’t fuck it up?  What if we’re perfect together, and happy, and it just makes sense?”

“Then that’s even worse!” he announced with a grin, and you laughed.

“What?” you giggled, letting him pull you a little closer.

“Then we get together, and you move in, and we get married and have a bunch of babies— and then that’s it!  Me and you, heading towards oblivion,” he described, pointing forward with his hand like it was a straight path to the end, “being, you know… grown-ups.”

You dropped your forehead onto his shoulder, laughing in exasperation.

“I know it’s stupid,” he admitted, “but that’s… that’s what scared me, I think.  And I guess I just liked how things were so much— well, that’s not totally true.  There were days where I thought I really couldn’t take it anymore, that I just had to be with you, but…”

“But you’re kind of a pussy?” you finished for him, and he laughed as his arm wrapped around you.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “very much so, actually.”

You looked up at him, and the way he looked back at you was painfully perfect.  And now that you saw it, you realized it wasn’t new— he’d looked at you like this before, when he woke you up on the store couch in the morning or when you made fun of him in front of everybody or when you helped him pick what to wear for a party.  How come you hadn’t seen it before?

It seemed like you’d been scared, too.  You could’ve just told him then, you could’ve just kissed him— but maybe you were both a little too afraid to rock the boat.  “I mean, your little future plan sounds nice, but…” you hummed, “I don’t want Rutherford.”

“Don’t rule out Augustus,” he warned, tilting his head and pointing his finger at you, and you laughed softly.

“I want you, Neil,” you breathed, feeling so many emotions at once as you finally said what you’d been terrified to admit for the better part of a decade.

He took a deep breath, too— like he’d been waiting a long time to hear that.  “I want you too, kid,” he admitted.  You could’ve asked him to stop calling you that now, but since it made your knees a little weak (thank god you were sitting down already), you let it slide for now.

“Okay, well,” you decided, scooting closer to him on the couch again, “let’s agree on something.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Let’s get together,” you said, trying to keep your nerve, “and I’ll move in, and we’ll get married and have a bunch of babies— but we’ll never grow up.”

He laughed a little, finally seeming a bit nervous, and reached up to touch your face: his knuckles rested on your cheek while his thumb pet your temple gently.  “Okay,” he said again.

Your heart raced as he moved in a little closer, turning himself towards you on the couch, and your eyes moved back and forth from his eyes to his lips to his eyes to his lips— he’s gonna kiss me.

Just when you were about to shut your eyes and let it happen, he pulled back slightly.  “Sorry,” he laughed nervously, “I— sorry.  Been thinking about this since I was seven, it’s a lot of pressure.”

Your heart warmed to hear him admit that.  “All these years and you never thought to just man up and kiss me?” 

“I did kiss you!” he defended.

“New Year’s doesn’t count,” you scoffed.

“Good,” he sighed, “because then there’s still a chance for our first kiss to be perfect.”

“Like the movies?” you asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” he agreed softly, holding your chin and tilting it back gently.  “Like the movies.”

It did feel like a movie; you could’ve sworn you heard dramatic background music alongside the pounding in your ears.  You took a deep breath in through your nose as you kissed him back, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him closer.  There was no point in acting coy now, he knew the truth— and you were totally helpless, this was all you’d been imagining for years and it was real: in that way, it was so much better than a movie.

His hands found your back and pulled you into him, until you hopped up and straddled his lap— holding his face, running your fingers through his hair, kissing him as desperately as you could get away with.

He certainly didn’t seem to mind, in fact he just held you tighter and kissed you harder and even pulled your hips down into his lap where you gasped at the feeling of a firm bulge in his jeans.  “You’re already hard?” you noticed, pulling back just enough to speak, and he laughed breathlessly.

“Jesus, you’re already making fun of me,” he coughed.

“I’m not!  Sorry,” you laughed, “I just— we only started kissing a minute ago—”

“Yeah, but— come on, kid, you’re gorgeous,” he sighed, “and you can’t pull me towards you with my shirt like that without expecting a reaction…”

“I really wasn’t trying to get you worked up,” you cooed, “I just need you that bad.”

“Fuck,” he laughed, running his hands up your back, “you can’t say stuff like that either…”

“I can’t?” you pressed with a smirk as you ran your hands over his chest through the t-shirt.  “Or what?”

“Orrr I’m not gonna have very much patience,” he explained with a grin, “and I’ll just have to make love to you on this couch right now.”

“Oh, make love,” you repeated, shimmying your shoulders a bit, “you don’t have to be so formal, Neil.  You can just fuck me.”

He growled and grabbed you tight, throwing you down on the couch as you beamed and he descended upon you.

You tugged at each other’s clothes hungrily: you had on some baggy old shirt that he tossed aside quickly, he was wearing band merch that he barely stopped kissing you long enough to let you get over his head.  You’d seen him shirtless all the time when you went to the beach together or he just changed shirts in front of you (‘cause guys can just do that, your sanity be damned), you’d even felt him shirtless before due to playful wrestling in the pool, but wow it felt different to have his bare torso pressed against you, and you loved it already.

You know what else felt different?  Neil staring down, mouth slightly open as he panted, at your tits.  You almost felt self-conscious until he grabbed your waist and latching his mouth onto one needily.  

“Fuck,” you groaned, gasping as the tip of his tongue flicked over the bud of your nipple.  His hand squeezed the other one with just the right amount of roughness— his hands were big, and hot, and you’d put quite a lot of consideration into how they’d feel running over your skin.  They were lovely, as were his fingers pinching lightly at your nipple until you squirmed.  “Neil, c’mon—” you started to beg.

“Hold on,” he groaned against your skin, hot breaths tickling where his spit wet your breast, “been waiting a while to do this.  Wanna savor it.”

Well, he could savor all he wanted, but you had been waiting too long to have any patience left; you reached down and got his belt open with a little finagling, pushing his jeans down his legs with your feet.  His boxers, annoyingly, stayed up, but he smiled at you and started to pull your shorts down, too.

So there you were, laying together on your sofa— him on top of you, you staring up at him in amazement— both in just your underwear.  And socks, technically, but you weren’t really worrying about those at the moment.

“Are we gonna do this like they do in the movies, too?” you asked with a breathless laugh.

“They don’t show this part in the movies,” he replied quickly.

“Not those movies…”

He got your drift and grinned a little, but shook his head.  “No, not like that.  I want this to be, you know, special…”

“Neil, I’ve been in love with you since I was twelve.  It’s gonna be special no matter what,” you promised, holding his face for emphasis.  “Doesn’t mean it can’t be, you know, kinky.”

He raised an eyebrow in intrigue.  “Kinky?” he repeated.  “Would you mind clarifying that for me?”

You bit your lip and looked away shyly.  “Well, you know, I’ve thought about, like… like maybe how it would be if you tied me to the bed…”

He grinned.  “Alright,” he replied expectantly, waiting for the list to go on.

“Or if you bent me over your desk at the store,” you added, heart racing with nervousness to admit that fantasy, “and had to cover my mouth to keep me quiet…”

“Fuck,” he groaned in agreement.  “What else?”

“O-or, you know, that thing where you just keep someone inside you for hours,” you breathed, “and don’t even move, just keep it, you know, warm— we could watch a movie like that—”

“Jesus, kid,” he sighed, “you, um, you really thought this through…”

“Yeah…” you admitted, moaning softly and holding tighter onto his back as he leaned down and kissed your neck.

“I had no idea you were so dirty,” he laughed against your skin.  “Whatever movie we watch like that, it better be shit ‘cause I have no chance of paying any attention.”

“W-well, you said you thought about it too,” you remembered.  “What did you think this would be like?”

“I didn’t think about that, I’m too romantic,” he denied proudly as he hovered above you again, “I just thought about, you know, taking you on dates and buying you flowers and stuff.”

“O-oh,” you choked, embarrassed.

“Just kidding,” he winked, “I’m not a saint.  I thought about how you’d look riding me.”

You giggled slightly, glancing away as you were forced to imagine that, too.  

“And how these lips would look,” he continued, softening his voice and running his thumb over your slack bottom lip, “wrapped around my cock—”

“Fuck,” you whispered, nearly overwhelmed by the look in his eyes.  “I thought about that too…”

He growled and kissed you hard, reaching down to roughly tug your panties lower.  “God, I wish I had the patience for that now,” he mumbled, “but I just need to be inside you—”

“Okay,” you agreed happily, pressing yourself against him as you hugged him closer.

Sliding your hands down his back, you pushed his boxers down his hips and gasped when his cock sprung out and brushed over your inner thigh.

You reached down and grabbed a hold of him— mostly so you’d have a chance to get some idea of what he was about to put in you— and you both gasped for different reasons.  You couldn’t speak for him, really, but for you it was a sound of disbelief at how big he was.  Not, you know, concerningly massive or anything— you were thankful for that, in fact— but thick and long and curved and oh look you were already guiding that fat tip to your opening because you couldn’t wait anymore.

Clearly he was struggling with a similar impatience because as soon as he felt your entrance he shoved his hips forward and pushed inside— finding some resistance, just from his size, but then you went limp under him and just let it happen.

You were both breathing heavy like you’d run a mile, when you’d barely moved at all; he was only halfway in, and you already felt so full…

“Fuck,” he moaned at the feeling, “you’re so wet, fuck—”

But then he pushed in the rest of the way and you winced just from the intensity of it— it didn’t hurt, really, but it was… a lot.  In every sense of the word.  "Oh my god," you gasped, holding on tightly to his arms.  

He moaned louder, dropping his head into the crook of your neck; he put a hand on the top of your head to keep you steady (and close) as he pumped into you a bit faster already.  “You’re so fucking wet,” he said again— it would’ve made you self-conscious that he focused on that so much if it wasn’t obvious that it was driving him wild.  But you couldn’t really justify pointing out his sudden boner before when you were soaked like this, could you?

Fortunately, it seemed like he had long since forgotten about that…

It seemed like he never looked away from you, hardly ever even shut his eyes— he just watched your face, with a few detours to look at the way your breasts bounced with each thrust.

The pace was steady and simple, there were no fancy moves or dirty fantasies: he just kissed you sometimes, and watched you the rest of the time.  You didn’t say much until you started to feel the pressure building in your gut— up until that point, nothing needed to be said— but the way he was making you feel suddenly compelled you to start running your mouth.

“So good,” you blurted out, and he groaned a little in agreement.  “You feel so good, Neil…”

“Yeah?” he confirmed.  “Feels like we were made for each other.”

That was not only the most perfect thing you’d ever heard, but undeniably true: the curve of his cock seemed to fit right inside you; he was just big enough to push to the end of you without making your stomach hurt; every movement stretched your walls exactly how you’d craved for longer than you wanted to remember; and you were soaking him, and probably yourself, it was like you just couldn’t stop.  Every movement made you feel more insatiable and yet more perfectly satisfied— it was impossible, but it was happening.  That’s how it felt: impossibly good.

“Doesn’t it?” he asked, like he was worried you didn’t agree, but you only hadn’t said anything because you knew how loud you would be if you opened your mouth.

“Yes!” you cried out, dropping your head back— see, that’s exactly what you were worried would happen, but he just growled and fucked you deeper.  “Yes, fuck yes, Neil—”

“Uh huh?” he encouraged you gruffly, holding you a little tighter, watching you with darker eyes.

“Yes, oh my god,” you choked out, whining and digging your nails into his back sort of unintentionally.  “S-so deep…”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “and you take it so good— you feel so fuckin’ perfect, kid…”

Wow, yeah, you really should’ve hated being called that in a moment like this, but you enjoyed it a little too much.  "Fuck, m'gonna—" you began your warning.

"Come," he finished for you— no, it was a demand.  "I want you to.  I wanna see it."

"O-okay," you breathed, "just don't… don't stop…"

He shook his head, fucking you a little faster as he panted.  "Not gonna stop," he promised, "not until you're so fucking full—"

"God, Neil," you whined, the pressure in your gut building more and more, making your legs tighten around his hips.

"Until I've given you every drop of come," he continued with a grunt, "and it's fucking dripping out of you—"

"Fuck."

"For days—"

"Fuck—"

"Tomorrow at work—" he mentioned specifically, and your back arched as it hit you; jolts of energy crawled up and down your back, your walls clenching rhythmically around him.  

You definitely said something but you were too fucked out to keep track of it.  How was it your job to know what you said?!  It was something with oh my god and Neil somewhere in there for sure, but that was all you knew.  He didn’t even slow down, by the way, just keeping his pace and mumbling praises to you with a rough voice.

As the raw pleasure faded, you found a new feeling swelling within you— a sudden mix of all sorts of emotion, growing faster than you could fight it off.  You’d never felt like this, at least in this specific way, but you knew all too well what was coming: you were about to cry.

You weren’t sad, you were anything but sad, but apparently there were just too many pent up feelings and recently-released hormones coursing through you for you to do anything but cry.  It happened so suddenly that you couldn’t even think about how you should handle it— if you should warn him or suddenly get up and run away so he wouldn’t see you like that.  You were terrified he would be confused and overwhelmed by it, but you were out of options; you bit your lip as it started to shake, tightening your hold on one of his shoulders, and sniffled involuntarily as tears welled in your eyes.

“Oh god, baby, are you okay?” he breathed, his movements coming to a halt, and you nodded your head feverishly.

“I’m okay,” you whimpered, “I’m fine— I’m really good, I’m just—”

He sat up and pulled you up with him, sort of perching you in his lap, and you looked away as you tried to will yourself to stop crying but failed miserably.  “Do you want me to stop?” he asked softly.

You shook your head, hugging him so he wouldn’t see your wet face.  “N-no, don’t—”

“What’s going on?” he asked, smiling a little even as his voice was heavy with concern; he kissed the side of your head as he pet your hair gently.

“I’m just— m’just really happy,” you breathed shakily.  “I just can’t believe this is happening— in a good way.”

He beamed and pulled back to look at your face, holding your cheeks and wiping your tears away with his thumbs.  “Yeah,” he agreed, “I know— that’s how it feels for me, too.”

You choked on another sob, and he soothed you softly, holding you a little closer.  “Don’t stop, please,” you whispered, “you said you wouldn’t—”

“Yeah, but I gotta make sure you’re okay,” he laughed.

“I am, really,” you insisted, with a sniffle, “it’s happy tears, I promise.  Y-you can keep going, unless all the crying is turning you off…”

“No, it’s okay, kid,” he promised with a little laugh, leaning down to look into your eyes when you tried to glance down, “hey— it’s sweet, okay?  And I always thought you were kinda cute when you cried— um, not in a creepy way, but, y’know, like… when we watched sad movies and stuff, and you would hide your face in my shirt—”

You whimpered and shoved your face into the crook of his neck.

“Kinda like that…” he mumbled, rubbing your back as he laid you back down on the couch.  “Hey, shh, it’s okay… m’gonna move again, alright?”

You only nodded a little, holding onto him tightly, still crying but managing to get a moan out when he carefully thrusted into you again.  He found his pace again, though slower and gentler than before, and lifted himself partially to hover above you.  Pushing away some hair that had clung to your face, sticky with sweat and tears, he smiled down at you.

“Hey,” he whispered, “look up at me…”

Afraid to face him like this, you hesitated but blinked quickly as you looked back at him.

“You look beautiful,” he promised quietly.  “This is how it was supposed to be, okay?  This is how it always should’ve been.”

You nodded in agreement, starting to cry a little harder— though it was pure joy, there was no other way to describe it.

“And this is how it’s gonna be now,” he assured, “you and me.”

“Yeah,” you whispered under your breath, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.  He kissed you again softly, and the rest of it was like that: more gentle and patient, shockingly tender, until you two were just melting into each other and you shamelessly gave into every emotion and sensation he guided you through.

~

Today, the store was running a special on cop movies— so you and Neil were, obviously, dressed appropriately in fake uniforms he got on clearance at the costume shop.  Was yours technically a reconstituted ‘sexy cop’ with fishnets and a tight latex skirt?  Yes, but you at least ditched the fuzzy handcuffs…

You were sitting on the front counter, swinging your legs and watching Neil as he roamed the store, your eyes lingering on the way those navy blue pants did his ass more than a few favors… the whole outfit was working for you, shockingly.  The badge, the aviator shades— you were even beginning to see the appeal of the fake mustache.

He seemed to notice you looking, and he smirked at you proudly as he set down the tape he’d been holding.

“Hey,” Neil purred, taking off his sunglasses somewhat dramatically— he sauntered up to you, putting his hands on the counter on either side of your legs.  He had that sparkle in his eye as he looked you up and down, and you bit your lip.  

“Hey,” you returned, reaching up to drape your arms over his shoulders.

“You look cute,” he hummed at you proudly.  “Who picked out this outfit for you?”

“Oh, that would be my super weird boss,” you smirked, your fingers tracing the neckline of Neil’s semi-unbuttoned uniform shirt and the slightest hint of chest hair peeking out from it.  “He makes me dress up to promote our specials.”

“He’s probably got a crush on you,” Neil suggested with a grin.

“You think so?” you cooed as you leaned down, kissing him with a smile still on your lips— but you made a little face and pulled back.  “The mustache feels weird…”

“Mm, but you’re still gonna kiss me, right?” he assumed proudly— he knew damn well you found him totally irresistible.

“Yeah,” you admitted with a giggle as you kissed him again: deeper, and longer, but still slow and sweet.

The front door jingled as Jonathan walked in.  “Woah, hey, workplace!” he groaned, covering his eyes for a minute, and you laughed as you broke away from the kiss, shoving Neil aside and hopping off the counter.  “How are our resident lovebirds doing?”

“Horny,” Lucien answered in a thoroughly unamused tone.

“Well, why don’t you let us take over for a couple hours?” Jonathan suggested with a shrug.  “Me and Luc can manage and you two can, you know, take a long lunch and shake each other down.”

“What?  No,” you grimaced, shuddering at the idea of Jonathan and Lucien waiting for you two here and knowing exactly what you were doing a few blocks down at Neil’s apartment.

“Alright,” Neil agreed at the same time, but quickly changed his answer to a rushed “n-no, yeah, definitely not.”

Lucien smirked and Jonathan shook his head.  "Suit yourselves," he replied as he walked away.

You planned to walk away, too, and finally get back to work, but Neil wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into him.  You smiled and hugged him back, leaning your head against his chest with a satisfied sigh.

When he let you go, you lingered for just a moment longer before finding the strength to pull away and get back to work— yet again, he stopped you, this time by touching your face to turn it back to him and softly mumbling ‘hey’.

“What is it?” you asked quietly as you looked up at him expectantly.

“I love you, kid,” he said gently, petting your cheek for a second.

“Wh-what way do you mean that?” you wondered, and he furrowed his brows with a smile.  “Like— we used to say that sometimes,” you went on, awkwardly stammering as you looked down again, “but, you know… we never meant it like that—”

He interrupted you with a soft whisper of your name, getting your attention once more, tilting your head until your gaze met his.  “I only ever meant it one way,” he admitted.  “That way.”

one year later…

You wandered through the crowded video store, doing lots of waving and greeting and patting of shoulders— thanking everyone for coming out to celebrate with you.

A gaggle of women suddenly descended on you with giddy delight, and you took turns hugging them and repeating your practiced line about how you were so glad they could make it.

“You look great,” Helen informed you, and you dismissed it with a wave of your hand.  “No, really, it’s so cute!  You look good in white.”

“You think so?  I was worried it would be weird,” you admitted as you looked down at the silk cocktail dress.

“No, it makes perfect sense,” Priyanka said, “and it’s so cool!  Is it real vintage?”

“Yeah, you know how we are,” you shrugged and laughed.

“Well, let’s see the ring!” Helen insisted with a squeal, and all three women yelped happily when you brandished your left hand for them to get a good look at it. 

“Oh my god, it’s gorgeous!” Georgia gasped.

“Thank you,” you beamed, “I can’t imagine where Neil got the money for it— god knows it wasn’t here, I’ve seen our margins!”

The ladies all seemed to grab your hand at once and yank it closer, tilting your finger to watch the stones sparkle in the light.  As they fawned over it, you looked over and found Neil watching you, beer in hand, looking totally smitten.  You waved with your free hand and got a small wave back, making you smile even wider.

You split away from the girls after a while, soon stopped by one of Neil’s only friends who actually had this whole adult thing mostly figured out: Marcia, though her husband and baby were across the store meeting the many, many guests who wanted a chance to hold the precious thing.

“I always knew he loved you,” Marcia insisted as she winked at you.  “I’m so glad he finally figured it out.”

“Yeah, me too,” you agreed with a laugh.  “It’s been great— like, really great.  All the fun we had before, but—”

“But you get to have him all to yourself?” she assumed with a grin.

“Well, sure,” you admitted, “but not just that.  He’s changed a lot, you know.  He’s still the same Neil I always loved but…”

You trailed off, but she nodded like she understood.  “But he’s grown up,” she finished for you.

“We got together on the condition that we wouldn’t grow up,” you explained, “that we wouldn’t change and get, you know, boring.”

Marcia rolled her eyes, making you feel much younger than her than you were.  “That’s what you figure out eventually,” she replied, “that growing up is a lot more fun when you’re growing together.”

Her unexpectedly sage advice was still in your head almost an hour later, when you and Neil reunited at the back of the room.

“You ready?” he asked you softly, and you nodded with a smile.

“Been ready for this for a long time,” you replied.

Neil got the crowd’s attention, motioning for the guests to gather in a vague semi-circle facing you and him; you squeezed his hand, feeling your heartbeat pick up just a bit.

“We just wanted to thank you all for coming,” Neil explained, “I mean, it’s so special to have everyone we love gathered in our favorite place…”

You looked out at the crowd filling the store and noticed that, all together, it was a lot more loved ones than you realized you had.

“And with that in mind, we do have a little announcement,” he continued with a beaming smile.

“Pregnant!” Lucien blurted out, and you glared at him as a fellow guest slapped him on the arm.

“Not that,” Neil laughed, “maybe I shouldn’t have said it that way but, uh, anyways…”

“This isn’t just our engagement party,” you admitted with a grin, “it’s our wedding!”

You pulled the mini-veil out from where you’d hidden it in a fake VHS clamshell and quickly clipped it on, the crowd clapping and gasping, and you motioned for Jonathan to come forward to do the honors.

“The bride and groom have prepared special, joint vows,” Jonathan explained as he stepped up beside you both, pulling notecards out of his pocket.  You and Neil faced each other, holding your hands together between you; he even swung your hands a little as he smiled at you, and you laughed softly.  “Do you take each other in marriage, for life, no takebacksies?”

“We do,” you both replied.

“Do you swear to tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” he asked, and you gave him a confused look.  “Sorry— wrong line.  Watching too much Law & Order…”

Your spectating friends and family chuckled, though some seemed nervous with Jonathan making a joke like that during your literal wedding ceremony— but you thought it was perfect.  You wouldn’t have asked Jonathan to officiate if you didn’t want some ill-timed, goofy joke.

“Do you promise to keep each other close in body and spirit, to share your joy and pain, and to face every day together as best friends and life partners?”

“We do.”

“And do you swear,” Jonathan went on, suddenly getting very serious and lowering his voice, “to always, without fail… be kind and rewind?”

The crowd chuckled, and you and Neil agreed enthusiastically: “We do.”

“Then, by the power vested in me by a very shady website that I think might have been some kind of minister license scam out of Estonia… I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Jonathan beamed, throwing his notecards in the air triumphantly.  “Now kiss each other, ya idiots!”

It was one of those wedding kisses that went on a little too long, a few whistles and whoops from the crowd alerting you that it might be too steamy for such a public moment— but damn, was it perfect.  As much as you just wanted to grab onto your husband and never let go, both of you were instantly swarmed by loved ones wanting hugs and to offer their congratulations.  You obviously obliged, thanking everyone you could for being a part of this impromptu ceremony… and basking in the joy when most of them said something about how they always expected this or couldn’t believe it took so long.

“Congrats, man,” Jonathan mumbled to Neil as he grabbed him by the shoulder.  “I think this is the part where she fucks me and kills Lucien.”

“Shut up,” Neil scoffed as he shoved Jonathan away, but he couldn’t stop smiling— and he couldn’t stop staring at you. Here's looking at you, kid.