#walked around a lot c: & i like my fit

[noxtivagus]

i'm going through arr on my free trial alt on pc rn & watching these cutscenes r rekindling me creativity <33

[lxkeee]

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

-PART FOUR

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: Angst (for now)

Warnings: Daddy issues.

Notes: this is a long one, 3k ish words lol.

PART THREE | PART FIVE | NAVIGATION

A month before the extermination happens, Charlie Morningstar, the princess of hell was sighing by the railings of the second floor balcony and overlooking the lobby of the hotel. So many things inside her mind, so many problems that she's not sure what to act on first. Her girlfriend is a former exorcist but she and Vaggie already talked it out so I guess that's one problem out of the way, Adam is bringing an entire legion of exorcists and they will be coming for her hotel first, and she has a half angel brother who seems to not like her!

Charlie sighed, running her hands through her scalp, feeling the strands of her blonde locks with her fingertips.

She stared at the balcony by the hallway of the second floor of the hotel, seeing the others renovate the hotel so that it'll be fit for battle. Charlie leans on the railings, looking down as they work. Unaware that Vaggie was approaching her from behind.

“So, when are you going to tell your dad?” Vaggie asked, making the blonde haired girl jump in surprise, “Ah fuck! You scared me...” Charlie says, placing a hand over her fast beating heart—from the surprise.

Vaggie muttered a quick apology and stood next to her, Charlie sighs.

“I don't know Vaggie, I still can't wrap my head around the knowledge that... I have a half angel brother in heaven.” Charlie says softly, eyes downcast and her shoulders hunched. Vaggie's eyes softened, placing a hand on her girlfriend's shoulder.

“Dad didn't even tell me about it. Does this mean he had another wife aside from mom?” Charlie says sadly, starting to wonder if her dad cheated. The question is on who? Who's the first wife? She shakes her head, guilty for thinking that way about her own father.

Charlie can still recall how the older boy that was supposed to be her brother looked at her with such hostility in his [e/c] eyes despite the smile on his face, the tinge of sarcasm hidden by the gentleness of his voice as he spoke to her and Emily. It was unnerving to see such facial expressions on someone who is carrying the face of their father and it was directed at her.

“I am sure your dad had a reason why he didn't tell you, he probably didn't know.” Vaggie muttered softly beside her. Charlie sighs and nodded. Perhaps Vaggie is right, she needed to speak to her father to know the truth.

Charlie's eyes landed on Husk and Angel Dust who are busy hammering extra wood to the walls, the two men seem to be getting closer these days. It puts a smile on the girl's face.

“He probably does.” Charlie says with a forced smile, finally looking at Vaggie. “I'll go and speak to him about this, I want to tell him or hear him speak the truth.” she says softly, rubbing her hands together nervously at the thought of confronting her father.

Vaggie smiled at her, proud that her girlfriend is determined despite being so nervous about it. Vaggie patted the girl's shoulder comfortingly, “I am sure that it'll go well babe.” she says and Charlie nodded, “I hope so.”

Lucifer expected to have a fun father-daughter hangout when Charlie called him that morning telling him that she'll be visiting as she wanted to talk to him. What he didn't expect to see such a worried look on his daughter's face, slight bags underneath her eyes when he opened the door to the palace for her.

His father's instinct immediately kicked in as he sensed that something was bothering or worrying her.

The grin on his face lowered as he gently placed a hand over the girl's shoulder, ushering her inside the palace. They walked the hallways of their home, towards the living room where the father and daughter sat down on the couch. “Charlie, sweetheart. It seems like there's a lot on your mind right now. Do you want to talk about it...?” Lucifer asked softly before clearing his throat, laughing awkwardly. Of course she wants to talk about it, she really called you that she'll be visiting as she wanted to tell him something!

“I mean, hahaha of course you want to talk about it that's why you visited.” he says awkwardly in-between chuckles and Charlie just smiled, a small chuckle escaping her lips before letting out a tired sigh.

Lucifer's chuckles die down as his eyes soften as he looks at his daughter, he wonders how her meeting with heaven went. Did she meet the seven virtues? Or did she meet with Sera?

To this day, Lucifer still doesn't know who the seventh virtue is as the last time he had a meeting with them, they were absent—had some important matters to deal with on earth at that time, he does know the angel goes by the name Raphael. He hopes that it was Sera, despite knowing the said woman is... Eh... Still a bad choice but might as well choose the lesser evil or strict.

“Dad..?” Charlie softly calls out to him, avoiding his gaze. Lucifer's thoughts were cut off as he heard his daughter's voice call out to him, “Yes...?” he spoke softly.

Charlie took a deep breath, mentally preparing for this conversation. It's now or never.

“Dad, do I have a brother?” Charlie asked softly, voice shaking slightly.

That single question made his ears ring, countless thoughts running on his mind. A brother? What did she mean by that? He thought, nervous.

He looked at Charlie in confusion, clearly not knowing what she was talking about, “I'm sorry, what? What do you mean Charlie?” he asked softly and worriedly, his first thought is that his twin brother might've gotten married and had a son without him knowing and since he and Michael share the same face, he assumes Charlie met Michael's son or something.

Charlie looked at him, genuinely surprised that her father doesn't seem to know what she was talking about. Her dad doesn't know.

“I met someone up there dad, he told me he was my half sibling and told me we shared the same father. If only you could see the coldness in his eyes dad, how his eyes got colder when he talked about you.” Charlie says softly, squeezing her hands tightly. Her body trembling slightly in frustration.

Lucifer's eyes widened in revelation, his heart thumping against his ribcage like a drum. It can't be... He thought to himself, his hand moving towards his lips in disbelief.

Don't tell me I left [y/n] while she was pregnant. I didn't even know she was pregnant!

He thought in horror, his skin turning paler at the thought. [Y/n], his first wife, his first love. He abandoned her for Lilith. He wonders if she was planning on telling him but didn't as he barely went home to her as he spent most of his time at the Garden of Eden.

Guilt. So much guilt.

After his fall he didn't stop thinking about her, regretting the choices he had made. Ending up burying his affections for his first wife as he knows he will be no longer seeing her again. Despite marrying Lilith, having Charlie, somewhere deep in his heart lies the love he still has for [y/n] that he chose to extinguish but very stubborn for him to kill the passionate fire for her.

Remembering her name is enough for tears to trickle down his cheeks, the teardrop passing by the red circles of his cheek.

Charlie looked at her father worriedly, he was silent for a few minutes and suddenly tears were streaming down his face.

“Dad...? Are you okay...?” she asked softly and worriedly, taking out her handkerchief from her breast pocket and wiped her father's tears away. This single act made Lucifer remember something, a distant memory when he was still in heaven.

“Do not cry my beloved, you know the elders are just like that. They are too closed minded to listen to new ideas, too scared to listen to your wonderful and beautiful ideas for creation.” [y/n]'s cooed softly at him, hand holding a handkerchief as she wiped his tears away after getting scolded by the elders. He was sobbing on her shoulders, upset about what happened but his wife is there, his wonderful wife always ready to comfort him.

“Promise that you won't leave me okay?” he asked in-between sniffles and [y/n] smiles and placed a kiss on his forehead, “I promise. You better promise to not abandon me too.” she says with a giggle and he nodded, locking their pinkies together in a promise, the wedding ring on their ring fingers shimmering against the radiant rays of the sun.

He broke that promise. He left her, he left her alone with their son.

That made more tears stream down on his cheeks, Charlie trying to calm him down and Lucifer sniffled and muttered a small thanks to her, opting to take the handkerchief and wipe his own tears away.

“No, but I will be.” he said, his voice raspy. He avoided his daughter's eyes, too embarrassed and guilty to look at her. “Did he tell you his name...?” he asked weakly and Charlie nodded, “Xavier Caeles.” she answered softly and his heart broke even more. Why wouldn't it? The last name is something he recognized, it's his first wife's last name. Caeles, which means heaven.

A single teardrop runs down his cheek. A smile filled with guilt was plastered on his beautiful face.

The realization that he was never there for his son, their son all throughout his life. Filled him with unimaginable guilt. He was never there for [y/n] nor there for his son, Xavier. What does he look like? Does he have the same features as him or is he a perfect combination between him and [y/n]?

Forget it, he hopes his son has [y/n]'s face, just imagining the pain the boy goes through every time he looks at a mirror and sees his face. Somewhere in Lucifer's heart knows that the boy, probably hates himself. He hopes he is wrong.

With a shaky breath, he gave Charlie a weak smile, “Xavier huh?” he says with a pained chuckle. His red orbs are downcast, filled with guilt. He doesn't even know the boy as he's absent from his life, [y/n] had to raise him alone and it's her first time being a mother too. He should've been there, he should've listened and stopped being so selfish and stubborn.

Charlie looks at him worriedly, placing a hand over his shoulder for comfort. “I hope you won't get offended by this dad but did you... Cheat on mom...?” she asked softly, he shook his head no.

“No... I didn't, not on your mother but... Your mother isn't my first wife...” he says softly, ashamed in admitting it. He didn't cheat on Lilith, he cheated on [y/n] with Lilith. He was such a fool. “I cheated on my first wife with your mother...” he says, voice cracking, “My actions cannot be excused but it is something I deeply regret and still do.” he added, wiping his tears away.

The gears on Charlie's head started moving, processing his words. Her dad married someone before her mom.

“... Why...?” she asks softly, squeezing his hands, Lucifer avoiding his daughter's eyes, “Your mother is such an amazing woman and I couldn't help but be mesmerized by her and in return, my feelings for my first wife were overshadowed by it.” he explained softly, guilt evident on his voice. His voice cracking, almost a whisper.

Charlie's eyes softened, her thumbs rubbing circles on her father's hand, “Do... Do you still love her...?” she asked softly.

Yes, he still does. He misses her every single day, a ghost of his past that is constantly haunting him, haunting him of his wrong choices in life.

With choked sobs, Lucifer nodded, “Yes, I still do...” he admits softly and Charlie smiles, even though it hurts to see her family split, she can move on. Her mother has already left and Charlie believes that her father deserves a second chance and she wishes that Xavier would get a second chance at happiness.

“I hope you'll get a chance to make things right, dad. You owe it to him, to them.” Charlie says softly, hugging the crying man.

“I hope I'll get that chance, Charlie... I owe it to them.” Lucifer whispers softly. Clenching his fists that he placed on his lap.

Xavier waited patiently for his mother to wake up, his mom just returned from work yesterday and is currently resting. He would've shared the tea with her if he didn't know any better but since he knows how tiring work in the human world is, he decided to let his mother rest. He doesn't want to add more to her plate.

Xavier took it upon himself to prepare breakfast, cooking some waffles and bacon for him and his mother.

Brewing her some coffee, he knows she loves it when he makes her coffee. Grabbing two white mugs to prepare the espresso shots, steaming some milk while he's at it too.

Finally done, he prepares the table, grabbing the white ceramic plates with gold accents and the spoon and fork made of gold. Arranging them on the table.

Now he waits.

[Y/n] soon emerged from the door to the dining room, already dressed up for the day. A flowy pastel purple dress that reaches her knees, her hair nearly brushed and styled.

Xavier got up from his seat on the table and approached his mother, giving the older woman a kiss on the cheek. “Good morning mother, I hope you were able to rest well last night.” he says softly and [y/n] giggles and places a gentle kiss on her son's forehead.

“I did my sweet sunshine,” she says with a smile, her eyes sparkling in happiness as she finally notices the breakfast that was already displayed on the dining table.

“Oh my! You already made breakfast? How sweet, thank you my sunshine.” she says with a small smile, her voice soft as she gently ruffles the boy's hair.

The mother and son duo sat across each other on the dining table, enjoying the dinner that Xavier had prepared.

Xavier was nervous, unsure how to talk about what happened a few days ago.

[Y/n] being a mother she is, sensed that something is bothering her son. Gently placing down the golden utensils onto the plate, the golden utensils making small clinking sounds as she did so. Lifting her head up away from the plate, she looked at Xavier worriedly.

“Is there something worrying you, my dear?” she asked softly and worriedly and Xavier sighed and nodded.

With a deep breath, he calms down his fast racing heart. “A few days ago... I met... Lucifer's... Daughter...” he says with a small whisper.

[Y/n] freezes up, it's been awhile since she last heard that name, the very man that kept haunting her, the man she kept looking for at every person she meets. Even after all these years, she never forgot him nor stopped loving him, despite the pain he has given her.

With a forced smile, she looked at Xavier, “Really? As expected.” she says softly with a smile but Xavier can see the pain in her eyes, it breaks his heart every time.

“You still love him, don't you...?” he asked her softly, already knowing the answer as she told him the answer before. Though, he doesn't know the reason why his mother never moved on.

“You already know but yes, yes I still do.” she says softly, her voice cracking. Xavier's eyes softened, placing down his own golden utensils onto his plate, the utensils clinking against the ceramic, the sound echoing off the white walls of the mansion that they call home.

“But why mother? Forgive me for being too forward but why do you keep holding on to him knowing how much pain he gives you unknowingly?” he asked softly, his voice cracking in emotions, desperate to know the reason why his mother loved the man so much.

[Y/n] took a deep breath, looking at his son's eyes, she has one reason why and she thinks it's time for him to know.

“Because my love for him is unconditional. Even though he broke my heart, I'll still love him because my heart is only his to break which is pathetic. My love for your father is never conditional, he could be off being happy to an another woman and I'll still love him, even if it hurts.” she explained softly and sadly and Xavier's heart breaks listening to her explanation, to her reason.

Despite him hating his father, hating his appearance. He yearns for fatherly love, he yearns for a complete family and he envies Charlie for having something that he wants to experience.

“Is that really your reason, mother?” he asked softly and she nodded, “I still love him, Xavier... I still really do.” she whispers softly.

“I understand, mother... Thank you for telling me.” he says in a whisper and [y/n] smiled weakly at him, “I am sorry for not being enough, I know that you yearn for a complete family and I wish I could provide you that but my commitment to your father is unchanging.” she says, ashamed.

She really wished that her stupid heart would stop loving the man who abandoned her and their son but it is too stubborn to let go. She tried therapy, she tried look for someone new and it all failed.

Lucifer held such a tight grip on her heart and just like she said, he can continue to break her heart and she won't stop loving him. But even so, she doesn't know how she'll react if she ever sees him again. Will she be scared? Will she have another panic attack in seeing him again? Will she freeze on the spot? Or will she run into his arms like nothing happened?

She didn't need to say it, anyone can tell that she developed major abandonment issues after her ex-husband left her. Constantly worried if she's doing okay, afraid that people will leave her if she's incompetent.

She even wonders if that was the reason he left, was she not doing enough as his wife? Was she that easily replaceable?

Xavier shakes his head, seeing his mother's distress face, standing up from his seat and takes a seat next to her mother, cupping his mother's face with his hands, his thumbs wiping away her tears.

“No, mother... You're more than enough... I love you more than anything.” he says softly and kisses his mother's forehead.

“I love you too, my sweet child... Thank you for being such an amazing son of mine.” she says softly to him, giving Xavier a small smile, telling her about the extermination can wait, he doesn't want to add more to her problems.

TAGLIST:

@valerie-36 @blackbleedingrose @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @ok-boke @random-3455 @izzieg3987 @snoozewritezz @dreamzaremyrealityy @hcneyiced @witchbunny1210 @ghostdoodlen @aikobakugou @just-here-reading @dzhanett-blog @des-deswain5621 @cocomollo @haleypearce @onyxstarhigh06 @nirvana5874 @shaebutter-baby

[toruro]

— ✧ mr. nice guy

pairing. hong joshua x reader

description. you thought your next-door neighbor was just being polite when he offered to help you carry in your boxes the first time you saw him, but as you adjust to your new home, you start to notice that joshua’s nice in other ways too: nice eyes, nice smile, nice arms, nice fingers, probably nice di—okay you get the point. but just how long can you go with lusting after your neighbor before giving in to your very much not-nice desires? well, lucky for you, joshua also isn’t nearly as much of a gentleman as he likes to let on.

✘ tags. smut (18+), neighbor!joshua, joshua's muscles deserve their own tag tbh, oral (f receiving), alcohol consumption (NOT drunk sex), petnames (sweetheart mostly :pp), biting, spit kink, unedited as always ✘ w/c. 5.3k ✘ a/n. i have had this idea in me for a WHILE so it's good to finally get it out! honestly i feel like the story is a little rushed but whatever

there's a gentle voice coming from in front of you, but with the way you’re holding the large box up right in front of your face, you can’t see who’s speaking. “do you need help with that?”

muscles straining and sweat beading down your skin, you manage to squeak out a quick, “yes please!” a wave of relief washing over your body as you feel the box grow infinitely lighter as this man’s arms wrap around the side. “thank you so much,” you say, still gripping onto the box as you slowly walk over and lead it to the front of your apartment door a few feet away. setting it down carefully, you look up so you can finally see the face of the angel who saved you so much trouble.

“no problem," he replies politely, and as your eyes flicker up, you're taken aback by his kind smile. "you new here?"

"did the moving boxes give it away?" you joke and the man cracks a hearty laugh.

"you got me there. i'm joshua," he tells you, and you think to yourself that there can't be a name for fitting for the man. he points over to the door across from yours. "i live right there, so i guess we'll be seeing each other a lot. what's your name?"

your name falls from your lips in a haze, internally thanking your lucky stars for finding yourself an apartment that was not only close to your work but also in close proximity someone as nice as joshua. "i guess so," you reply looking down the hallway where the movers had left the rest of your boxes. "i don't suppose you'd be down for another few boxes?" you ask hopefully, wincing at the way you're so shamelessly asking for help.

joshua chuckles at your expression and you feel that the ground might as well swallow you up whole. "it'd be my pleasure. it's not often i get new neighbors who are under the age of 50."

"i've noticed that...is there a reason the average age of the residents of place is like 60?" you ask curiously as you walk down to the end of the hallway to the boxes.

"not sure," joshua says. "i guess this place is just popular with them. not that i'm complaining. noisy neighbors are never a problem for me." he gives you an awry look, and you're a bit confused before he's jokes, "unless you plan on making that something i have to worry about now."

"no!" you reply a little too quickly, flustered by the way joshua is so easily coming up with conversation. it seems as if he's so smooth with everything, and with the way you have a million thoughts racing through your head—it's a it hard to keep up. "i mean, i don't do much or anything really," you clarify, reaching down to pick up one box while joshua goes to grab the other side.

"good to know," joshua tells you with a smile, and you try not to focus too much on the way that he grunts slightly when lifting up his end. "you're always welcome to come over to my place for a drink or something," he suggests as you begin walking over to your apartment.

smiling as you set down the box, you adjust your shirt and look up at him. "i'll think about it."

you, in fact, do think about joshua's offer. you think about it a lot.

you think about it that night when you carefully unpack your boxes. joshua's a nice guy, you think to yourself, because it's not often you come across such a person who's willing to give you an hour of their day to help carry heavy ass boxes for someone they barely know.

you think about it two mornings later when you're walking down the hallway with your groceries for the week only to find joshua about to enter his own apartment, clad in a tight fit t-shirt and gym shorts. his skin glows with layer of sheen sweat, his light brown hair pressing against his forehead in an oddly fitting mess. his breath is slightly labored when you call out his name instinctively, turning to look at you with bright eyes.

"hey, how's it going?" he's polite. joshua is polite, and a gentleman. you almost feel guilty when your eyes dart to the arms when the muscles flex as he brings up a hand to grab one of your grocery bags, insisting that it was his pleasure to help you out. something along the lines of, "i just got back from my work out and i can't help a pretty lady with her bags?"

pretty lady. you hope he can attribute your burning cheeks to the hot sun and not his words, because holy shit does he have your stomach doing tumbles. after all, joshua's just being polite right? right?

you think about his offer again three evenings later. you're just leaving your apartment to go on a walk, and joshua seems to have some people over, five boys knocking on his front door, where there seems to be more boys on the other side. you quickly glance at each other as you slip out of your apartment, hoping to hobble off quickly before things get more awkward, but then there's that door opening and you hear joshua's voice and you falter in your tracks for a moment at the way he calls you name so smoothly.

you turn around to face him as his friends slowly shuffle into his apartment, joshua leaning against the doorframe with a bottle of beer. he holds it up and raises a brow and fuck—if you don't stare at the way the bottle is perched between his perfect, thick fingers—fuck. "you wanna join?"

you want to. fuck, you really want to. so why do the words, the simple phrase of, "yeah sure," fall flat on your tongue? maybe it comes from the embarrassment of lusting over a man you hardly know. from the humiliation of letting your eyes dart towards his arms, his hands, his fingers, joshua's collarbone and the little adam's apple that bobs up when he takes a sip of his beer.

"i, uh, i was just going on a walk right now," you tell him, your voice sounding meek and you want to cringe at the poorly planned response. joshua chuckles, and you aren't sure why.

"you don't wanna come? aw, you're hurting my feelings," he coos.

"no! that's not what i meant," you say quickly, averting your gaze from joshua because the way he's peering down at you right now—god, you don't know if you want to go up to him and fall straight to your knees and suck him off or turn around and run away out of pure humiliation. "i just—you know—walks. go on them every day," you try to explain haphazardly.

"no it's okay, i get it," he replies before looking into his apartment when one of his friends yells out his name, "it's bit rowdy in here anyways, so i don't blame you." there's an awkward sort of silence that settles between you and the air is thick as you debate if you should turn around and leave right about now. "i don't suppose you'd want to stop by after your walk?" he asks hopefully, and you figure this is his way of giving you a second chance.

this time, you look up at him and smile. "i'll think about it."

except this time you actually think about, not just sit and wonder of the possibilities. as you pace down the street, your one hour walk that usually make time fly now seems to feel like the longest sixty minutes of your life. you come down to two possibilities at the end of it:

1. you don't show up and joshua thinks you're an indecisive bitch

2. you do show up, have a good time, and things are left at that

of course, putting it like that only really leaves you with one choice to choose, that being the latter. knowing that your own conscience won't let you live it down if you don't end up choosing the latter, you march up to joshua's apartment with a slowly diminishing confidence. yeah, you're eager to see where this night will take you, but you're also not necessarily confident that you're anxiousness won't betray you.

it's just that joshua is so nice and so kind and he has you thinking so many thoughts that your words always seem to jumble up into an incoherent mess whenever he speaks to you. all you can really ever think about when you see him is—well—all of him, which includes his nice smile, his nice muscles, his nice—okay, shit, you really need to control yourself.

doing what little mind-clearing exercises you can cram into the time it takes you to get up to your floor, you're pretty sure your breath is labored from how hard you're thinking alone. before you have any time to let yourself back out of this, you're rushing up to joshua's door, knocking maybe a little too desperately.

in the next moment, you have time to listen in on the other side, the room being quieter than you remember it being an hour ago. all that can be heard is some soft shuffling that can only be identified as joshua's footsteps, and before you know the door is opening, the one and only standing in front of you.

"there she is," joshua greets with a smile, "low and behold!"

the tips of your ears burn at his welcoming, stepping back a little. "h-hi," you murmur quickly, the responses that you planned in your head earlier seemingly fading away in your mind. "is that offer for a drink still on the table?" you ask hopefully, chewing on your bottom lip as you wait for an answer.

"'course it is," he replies. "i was waiting for you to come to your senses," he continues, stepping to the side so you can slip off your shoes and step in, realizing now that all his friends have left leaving only you two. you follow in after him, your eyes glazing over his apartment. it's got the same layout as yours, as expected, only it's mirrored. it's slightly messy, presumably from the mess his friends left from before, but the set up is neat and you can tell joshua has a good eye for color.

"i like those paintings up on the wall," you comment, pointing at a set of wall art hung above his sofa. joshua looks up at it before smiling softly and nodding, walking to the kitchen as you trail behind him.

"thank you, one of my friends that was here earlier got it for me. he's great at interior design, if you're ever looking for someone," he tells you, reaching for the fridge and pulling out a cool bottle of beer. "here," he says, handing it to you before grabbing a bottle opener and popping off the cap for you. holding it out in front of you, you're able to watch his hands up close—they're big and veiny and fuck, you'd be lying if you said you didn't press your thighs together slightly.

you aren't sure joshua notices, and if he does, he doesn't make it obvious. "thank you," you murmur softly, letting him step back and put the opener away before he leads you to the living room. you settle down on one end of the couch, and instead of opting to sit on the arm chair, joshua just sits on the opposite end. throwing his hands back so they lean on the arm rest and the back of the couch, his biceps are stretched out and on display thanks to his short sleeve t-shirt.

"so," joshua begins as he grabs his own beer and brings it up to his lips, "how do you like it here?"

you take your own sip of the cool liquid before responding, "it's hardly been a week...but i like it. it's peaceful, and i like the neighborhood."

"yeah, the people are nice," joshua agrees. you're nice, you think. "how was moving in?"

"i'm still honestly unpacking," you chuckle to yourself, feeling more comfortable now that there's casual conversation being initiated. "i have a bunch of clothes at my friend's place that i still need to pick up," you explain, leaning back into the plush cushions.

"you need help bringing them in? i can lend a hand if you need."

your stomach tumbles at his generosity, but you shake your head. "ah, you've already helped me so much, i don't think that's fair."

"oh c'mon," joshua counters, "you can pay me back with something if that'll make you feel better."

you raise a brow. "now how would i do that? you got venmo?" you tease.

"i was thinking of something a little less materialistic," joshua replies with a roll of his eyes, and you think you might just combust on the spot.

you aren't exactly sure what he means by that until you bring your eyes to meet his and that's when you see it. how his eyes darken, how he gulps even though he hasn't taken a sip of his drink, how he shifts in his seat. suddenly, you're dawned with the realization that on your walk, you left out the option for a third possibility, a.k.a. you do show up, have a good time, and then have joshua rail you into the next dimension.

gaining confidence, you cross your legs over each other and turn to face him better, deciding to go along. "huh..." your voice trails off. "i'm not quite sure what you mean by that joshua," and you swear you hear his breath hitch when you say his name.

he regains composure so quickly it's hard to tell you even threw him off guard in the first place. "i'm not really sure actually. you have anything to offer?"

you shrug as you set down your beer at the coffee table by your feet. "i make a mean maple cake, if you're into sweet stuff." joshua perks up at that.

"i do have a sweet tooth," he mumbles to himself, pretending to be in thought as he follows your movements, pushing his bottle to the side. "that's gonna take a while though," he says solemnly, "you're gonna have to get the ingredients...make the cake...bring it to me...sounds like a lot of work for you..." his voice trails off, and then he's tossing you that look again.

joshua figures you're both definitely on the same page by now and there's no point leaving the tension between his go unrelieved for any longer than he has to, and before you know it he's reaching one strong arm over to grab your wrist, pulling you into his hold so he can kiss you fiercely.

his lips are soft, but the way he's pushing against you, sucking, nipping, running his tongue along you is all but gentle. with joshua's arms leaving your hands and instead running up the sides of your waist, pulling you in roughly, you gasp into his mouth, allowing him the chance to slip his tongue against yours, tasting you, feeling you, being one with you.

one hand comes up to cup the side of your face, tilting your head slightly so he can push his lips against yours harder, his tongue sinking deeper to explore the caverns of your mouth. when he pulls away, you both share heaving breaths of air, mouths connected with a string of saliva before he's leaning back in and capturing you once more.

his other hand on your waist gently nudges you and you're falling back onto the cushions, head hitting one of the pillows as he crawls into the space between your legs. inching up his knee until his thick thigh is pressing up against your pounding core, easing the tension that he's been so carefully building up.

joshua noticed it. the way your eyes lingered on his arms, his fingers—noticed the sparkle in your eyes followed by the immediate embarrassment of your own thoughts. he's not sure if you're just easy to read or if he's just good at reading you but whatever it is, you're an open book to him and fuck it's so cute it has him going crazy.

you whine against his lips, rocking into him to the best of you abilities while you're pinned beneath him. there isn't much space to move around in the little corner of this couch, but you hardly pay mind to the inconvenience when joshua peels his lips and thigh away from you. "ha—no," you gasp out, hips chasing the relief the hard muscle provided. joshua chuckles, shaking his head as you pout.

"relax baby," he coos, and the pet name has you shivering under his touch as he inches his body down the length of the couch until his upper body rests between your thighs, face dangerously close to your gaping cunt. "be patient, okay?" he orders, and you nod your head quickly in agreement. joshua traces his fingers from your knees achingly slow up to the hem of your denim shorts, slipping under the cloth only slightly, leaving you nearly begging for more.

"josh—shua—fuck, more, please?" you choke out, voice broken from pure desperation. joshua clicks his tongue at you, flashing a warning look which shuts your lips real tight as he reaches up to unbutton the shorts. you quickly reach down, helping him out, but he swats your hands away.

"can you keep your hands up for me sweetheart?" he asks so fucking sweetly you almost forget about the mischievous glint that flashes in his eyes.

"uh-huh," you mumble, slowly lifting your hands above your head, gripping onto the armrest of the couch to brace yourself. in the meantime, joshua unzips and yanks your shorts off, tossing them to the side so they fall somewhere in the room. staring down at your now exposed and soiled panties, you hear joshua suck in a breath.

"all this for me sweetheart?" he murmurs, bring two fingers up to lightly pinch your clit, causing you to jerk against his hold.

"all for you," you affirm nearly immediately, squirming when he takes one finger and tuns it down the midline of the fabric. joshua's eyes are gaping down at your core, nearly in the shape of hearts as his mind races with the idea of how you're already so undone, so desperate, so far gone for him. slowly but surely, he hooks one finger on each side of the waist band, peeling your panties off and exposing your dripping folds.

joshua nearly groans at the site of you clenching around nothing, saying, "fuck baby, you're gonna soak my couch."

"s-sorry," you stutter out, averting your gaze so you don't have the chance to look at the mess you've made.

"don't apologize...it's hot as hell." he pauses, then looks up at you. "you mind if i get a taste?"

"god, fuck yes—i mean no—wait," you babble, "i mean—shit—i don't mind, not at all."

joshua's heart swells at your response, waisting no time dipping his head between your thighs and pressing his tongue flat against your folds. you cry out at the warmth and friction, instinctively shooting one hand down to grab at his hair. within seconds, he's pulling his head back and giving you a stern look. "what'd i say sweetheart?"

"hands, sorry." you quickly pull your fingers back and return them to their hold on the couch.

"there you go sweetheart," joshua mumbles before diving back in, wrapping his arms under and around your thighs to hold you in your place. you can nearly feel his muscles bulge against your leg and you twitch against his mouth at the thought. meanwhile, joshua runs his tongue up and down, going and back and forth between hardening at and circling it around your hole before moving up and wrapping his lips around your clit and flicking his tongue over it.

the erratic, unpredictable movements have your back arching off the couch within minutes, moaning out words like, "feels so good joshua," along with quite curses as you attempt to keep your voice down. it hardly takes a few minutes before you're writhing under him, joshua pulling back with his lips and chin coated in a sticky wetness with a grin.

"you look so pretty baby," he compliments, using one hand to continue to rub between your folds and circle around your clit, never halting the shoots of pleasure through your spine. his eyes are flickering between yours and core, and then holy shit, his lips contort for a moment and then he's spitting on your already soaked pussy and the act is so demeaning and dirty and hot that you hardly comprehend the next words that come out of joshua's mouth. "so do you wanna cum now, or on my cock?" he offers, and you figure there's a right answer and a wrong one, but you don't have the brain capacity right now to think about which is which.

pouting, you respond, "c-can't i have both?"

that must be the right answer, because it has joshua beaming at you, smiling against your pussy as he slips two fingers into you and presses his mouth on your clit. jerking your hips up, joshua follows the swivel of your lower half, matching the thrusts and flicks of his wrist to your own movements so his fingers are hitting deeper and deeper every time. you think you're close, but when he's curling his digits inside of you and sucking hard on your nub you know it's coming.

you don't have time to warn joshua about your impending orgasm but the way your walls hug his fingers so fucking tight is warning enough, and he speeds up both his fingers and the flicking of his tongue to the point where you're on the brink of tears as he finger fucks you through your high. humming in appreciation at the way you call out his name as you do, he releases your clit with a filthy 'pop' sound, fingers taking a moment to gently slip out of you as you come down from your high.

"you did so good angel," joshua praises, pressing kisses along your inner thigh, smearing your skin in the mixture of your own cum and his saliva. your breaths are far too erratic for you to respond, but the way you look up at him with heavy eyelids through thick, glossy lashes tells joshua all he needs to know. unraveling his arms around you, he bring himself up and guides your legs to wrap around his bare torso—shit, wait, when did he take his shirt off.

gaping at this man who could quite literally be god, you can't even comprehend what's going on until you're being carried into a whole new room, joshua throwing you onto his bed, the messy covers bunching up around you. he stands at the edge, unbuckling his belt at a painfully slow rate. quickly scrambling up from your laying back position, you crawl to the spot in front of him and help unbutton his jeans. "already wanting more, huh?" he teases, but doesn't push you away, rather putting his hands to his side to watch you do the work yourself. you don't respond, taking this chance to grab both his jeans and boxers, pulling them down in one go.

joshua's cock springs out, thick and beaming with a bead of precum that dribbles off the tip, lightly hitting your face in the process. your mind is foggy and you look up at him with dreamy eyes as you absentmindedly open your mouth and close your lips around his bulbous tip, lapping at the precum. joshua doesn't hesitate to grab at your hair and pull you off of him, and for a moment you're scared you've done something wrong, getting pulled out of your haze.

but then you catch the way his voice drops an octave when he says, "slow down," and your worries are put at ease. "we can do that another time. wanna feel your cunt." another time. those words ring in your head. there's going to be another time. you ponder on that thought for a moment and then you recall the next of what he says and you look up at him with these doe eyes that joshua finds so fucking adorable, he'd be surprised if you don't see his dick twitching.

crawling onto the mattress, your limbs intertwine in a hot mess so that one of your legs is hooked around his torso while the other rests between his knees under him. it's a slightly awkward position, but the thought hardly crosses either of your minds once his fat tip his sliding between your drooling folds teasingly, before you're begging, "c'mon joshie, stick it in, please—need it now."

now joshua isn't one to usually give in—he's good at maintaining his patience. yet, the way you mumble out his nickname as if there isn't a single thought in your pretty head has his mind going numb, losing all semblance of self control until he can't help but sink his full length into you.

and joshua knows he's big, and looking down at how you nearly shake beneath him, it's confirmed that this is a lot for you. he almost feels bad at the way tears stream down your cheek, considering pulling out and pressing kisses along your face until you're ready to try again but then you're saying his name like that—"joshie, joshie, joshie"—and he just knows that neither of you would be satisfied until he's balls deep inside of you.

"takin'—god, fuck—takin' me like a pro, huh sweetheart?" joshua finally finds it in him to grunt out with out his voice wavering from the way you hug him so well.

"yeah-huh," you nod along, holding up your hand in a grabbing motion, joshua not hesitating to hold your hand in his so you can squeeze it tight while you work through the initial stretch. "you're so big, joshie."

"yeah," he breaths out a laugh. "you like it?" he groans, slipping out around halfway, giving you a chance to breathe, before he's shallowly thrusting back into you. "like me stretching out this pretty fucking pussy?" you nod dumbly, and your jaw gyrates as you try to form a response but no words come out, strangled syllables morphing into pornographic moans as joshua begins to drag his cock out further each time, plunging it deeper and deeper as he goes on.

"oh my god," you're finally able to babble, tits bouncing back and forth as joshua begins jamming his hips into yours with increasing force. the sounds of your wet pussy colliding with his cock bounce off the walls and if it isn't the filthiest thing you've ever heard, you don't know what is.

joshua latches one arm to your hip, the other continuing to hold yours as he pins it by your neck and shifting his body over you so his head hovers above yours. this new angle his his cock ramming hard down onto a spot that has you biting down onto your lips and crying out, "fuck, joshie!"

"you're squeezing me so tight," joshua moans as you rake one hand down his back. "suckin' me in, god i can't get enough, sweetheart," he grunts out, dropping his head down to bury it in the crook of your neck as he continues to pound into you. your body feels as if it's on fire in the best way possible, and with the way joshua is pressing open mouthed kisses onto your sticky skin has your hips lifting to meet his sharp strokes.

you feel as if things can't get any better and then you feel his teeth bite down into your flesh and your eyes roll to the fucking back of your head as the pain quickly shoots to pleasure when he sucks on the spot, the patch of skin throbbing—pulsing. "'m so close, joshie," you moan as he pullings away, looking down at your fucked out face. your eyes are droopy and shutting tight every time he fucks into you, mouth slightly agape and never fully closing.

he isn't sure what urges him to do it but then he's shoving three fingers into your mouth and joshua thinks that this might just be true love at the way you don't even hesitate a second to circle your lips against them and run your tongue against them. drool dribbles down your lips as you suck on his fingers and joshua's mind is consumed with the thought of your mouth doing that to his dick and then you moan around his fingers at the way he twitches inside of you and—fuck—he's getting close too, but he just can't allow himself to cum until you have.

slipping his fingers out, he uses the same, slick hand to toy at your clit as you clench around him tighter. "you said you're close?" he groans. "fuckin' cum then, cum around my cock how you wanted to, sweetheart."

it's the way he's gazing down at you endearingly. it's his fat cock pushing itself deeper inside of you, forcing you and your gummy walls to make room for me. it's the filthy words that spill from his lips, laced with his sweet words of praise. it's all of it that comes crashing down on you, the waves of pleasure hitting you over and over and over again until you're reduced to nothing but a thrashing, crying, whining mess with the words, "joshie, fuck," falling from your lips.

you're so lost in pleasure of your second orgasm of the day that you hardly notice it when joshua slips out of you himself, fervently jerking himself off until he moans out your name and there's thick white ropes of cum painting your stomach and clit 'til he's practically milked himself dry.

all the echos through the room now is the sound of your hiccups and joshua's gasps for air until he's finally falling on top of you, head resting on your chest.

"you are so not a gentleman," you gasp out between breaths as he slowly lifts himself off of you, rolling to your side once you unwind your leg from around his hips. he furrows his eyebrows at you with a frown.

"what do you mean?" he whines. "that's literally like my trademark."

"well change it," you grumble, running your fingers over the mark on your neck from where joshua bit you.

"i'm sorry," he murmurs, turning over to you to look at the bruise against your skin. "did i hurt you?" he asks, eyes wide with worry. you want to kick your feet at the way his concern has butterflies coursing through your veins as if this man didn't just rearrange your guts.

you push his face away when he leans down to pepper your neck with kisses, shuffling back onto you. you aren't sure how much longer your poor heart can handle this. "it's too late to be a gentleman now..."

"is it though?" joshua asks with a smirk, looking down at you.

"dunno...guess you just have to prove to me that you're worth the title."

"does this mean i get more chances?" joshua grins.

you roll your eyes. "maybe...it depends on what you have planned."

"well," joshua drawls out. "i'm thinking a nice date...then maybe you, me, my bed and—"

i guess you can tell where it goes from here.

a/n. half the time i think i dont know how to end fics without some stupid dialouge bc wtf.... anyways if u enjoyed pls like and reblog!

[dontlookatmytmntcollection]

Leonardo (NSFW Alphabet)

Bayverse Leonardo x F!Reader

First of four instalments of my NSFW Alphabet series. Word count: 2500. Some warnings of bondage, overstimulation, breeding and trauma.

Leonardo’s nature is leadership and taking charge, and that would reflect in the bedroom, despite his initial inexperience. Moment’s when he’s willing to let you take the lead or let you treat him are super DELICIOUS- but he prefers to serve and command your pleasure. Very dominant. 

Enjoy!

A - Aftercare (What they’re like after sex) - Chemical rush hits him particularly hard. He’s a lot more relaxed and often smiles and laughs and asks if you’re okay, even if he was in a grumpy mood previously. Will press kisses everywhere. Learned very fast he hates feeling dirty, so he’s usually up and about very fast. But he also loves the intimacy of cleaning his partner. Fetching you water and getting you into a comfortable resting position, manhandling you over a towl and giving you kisses and nuzzles all comes naturally to him.

B - Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs or partner) - He loves your back and neck and collar bones. He could pet and hold and trace them all day. 

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum) - He isn’t relaxed about it. Will almost always stiffen up and go quiet. He’ll grab something, like the pillows or blankets and squeeze there. He knows he can hurt you. If he makes any noise it’s always on that first exhale when the orgasm releases him. Something choked and sometimes a little loud before he starts to catch his breath and relax. 

D - Dirty Secret - When he was young, he came across a shibari magazine. He still has it to this day. He thought he was into hard-core dom stuff, but then when he got an actual partner he would realize how not happy he is when his partner isn’t feeling incredible. Becomes much more of a soft-dom type. Lots of petting and kissing you while he holds you down and takes care of you, type stuff. But yunno, he was suspiciously very good at shibari in the beginning.

E - Experience (How much experience do they have) - He doesn’t know shit and he HATES it. So it take forever for him to actually want to have sex for real. Him not knowing what to do is very vulnerable and frustrating for him, especially when you get hurt. Communicating to him at first is like walking on egg shells. So when his dick is stretching you a little too far too quickly, you making a hurt noise or yelping out 'stop' it horrifies him. You gotta keep him on track and out of his head a lot in the beginning.

F - Favorite Position - Positions are one of those things he loves to experiment and mess around with. Even the crazy goofy looking ones. His superhuman flexibility, strength, and love for physical fitness will do nothing but assist. But if he HAD to pick a favorite; Missionary. But the kind of missionary where he has a thumb in your mouth and his lips against your temple while he holds your legs where he wants them while he grinds hard into you. Loves the power and intimacy there, and it gives him easy access to talk or bite. 

G - Goofy (How goofy are they?) - At first, not silly at all. Then even with experience he still appreciates the seriousness and intensity of sex. But Leo actually smiles and laughs a lot during sex. Lots of firm kisses and nuzzles, even if things are getting intense for you. His job is done when you can't stand on your own, have tears all over your face from how good it felt; but you're giggling and hugging him. Loves to flirt and joke with you, in and out sex. Very boyish about it. 

H - Hair - Beyond his desire to have things clean, he doesn’t care.

I - Intensity (How are they during the moment) - Outside of the first several times he has sex, he usually has his wits about him, so it is almost always intense for you. Sex becomes an easy outlet to release energy and strong emotions. That means you are the sole receiver of such things, and he likes it that way. Leo doesn't experience emotional sex until later in a relationship, and it will affect him very deeply; so be prepared to handle a very needy, clingy, and tired Leo for at least an hour or so. 

J - Jack Off (Masturbation Headcanon) - He hates masturbating. He’s too paranoid and he always feels that he’s doing something wrong. He hates it, but he needs it. He knows it will take the edge of frustration off. So when he does; it is ALWAYS in the shower. He needs privacy and it’s easy to clean and forget about. It’s almost never on his mind until it’s in the middle of the night and he CAN’T. Makes it extra hard to sleep sometimes. 

K - Kink (One or more of their kinks) - One time he had you in doggy, and he was getting close. He had huddled all around you and had bit your shoulder when you whispered, “Breed, that pussy Leo. Give it to me, give me a baby-” His brain rewired that day. Knew kink unlocked.

L - Location (Favorite places to do the deed) - He REALLY needs privacy. And familiarity. He struggles to focus on anything other than your safety when you are in a new or public place; and sex is (almost) never on his mind when his family is around. Even if you got hands all over him. If he gets familiar with your apartment, he might venture out into odd spots around there if you live alone. But- he IS kinda into the thought of having outdoorsy sex. He loves the sun. Anddd he loves the water. So If you SOMEHOW convince him to stay in a lakeside cabin, or a super pimped up apartment with a private outdoor pool, with no one around, just saying…perfect anniversary/birthday present for him.

M - Motivation (What turns them on) - Like I said, if you get him some safety and privacy (usually your bedroom or apartment with the door locked) Leo will suddenly want sex with you like- ALL THE TIME.

N - No (Turn OFFs) - Don’t hit him, don’t degrade him, and the instant you say stop or no- he’s done. It’s actually a struggle (especially in the beginning) to get him back in the mood if he actually hurts you. It made teaching ‘what hurts and what doesn’t’ a little rough. He would greatly benefit from the ‘color system’ technique over a safe word. It allows him to check in and get assurance and feed back and much as he needs to- instead of having to wait for your explicit ‘no stop’. Also allows him to remain confident even if you’re ‘struggling away’ or shaking uncontrollably or making really, really sexy overwhelmed noises. Yunno...

O - Oral (Preference in giving/receiving) - Leo gives regularly (constantly). He takes pride in being…really good at it. However he LOVES receiving. He rarely - if ever - asks for a bj. But fuck, it’s one of his favorite things. He loves looking down at you and making eye contact with you while you stare at him and love on him and (struggle) to suck, touch and please him. It blows his mind and he thinks about it constantly. But he’s also aware he gets a little more reactive like this. His noises get a little louder and higher, his eye's roll back a lot, he twitches and shakes a tad bit more than he usually allows himself to. He thinks the loss of control is a little embarrassing. You think it's hot as fuck.

P - Pace (Are they fast/rough or slow/sensual) - This boy LOVES to drag sex out. He’ll slow down or speed up when he sees fit. Especially if it drags out your finish. Or gets you to finish multiple times. He will rarely get physically rough during sex beyond some hair pulling and manhandling. The roughest he gets is when he’s close, when he needs to speed up or grab/bite you. The bruises are always worth it. 

Q - Quickie (Their opinions on quickies) - His need for privacy and you’re safety make quickies difficult if not outright impossible. Unless it’s his season or ya’ll haven't had privacy in days- yeah, he’s taking you to the bathroom and you’re going to be very quiet for him, you understand?

R - Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks, etc) - Leo doesn’t like to actually be restrained. So beyond public/indecent acts and something that can ACTUALLY prevent him from rising to an emergency situation - he is down to try everything once with you. You sometimes have to beg him to be on the receiving, submissive side of things. But it doesn’t take much effort at all if he’s in a good mood. He will desire at least some research into some topics, but he’s already big on communication, so that would make navigating new things much, much easier.

S - Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last) - All of the turtles have superhuman stamina. With practice, Leo could have sex all day if you allowed it. 

T - Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them?) - Leo was never ever opposed to toys. He’d be awkward about things being placed on him. Doesn’t really use them on himself. But he’d master toys very, very quickly, and would see them as the tools (torture devices) that they are. I also see him (with age and experience) owning his own small collection eventually. Mainly vibrators and rope, and I see him liking glass things. He thinks they are beautiful and easy to clean. 

U - Unfair (How much do they tease) - In the realm of PDA, when he’s trying to tease you sexually he actually goes the opposite than physical touch? His teasing comes in the form of super SUPER intense bedroom eyes. All while he’s got some ‘grumpy’ almost prowley body language. It would look like he's kinda irritated, like he’d be in a chair with one hand on his face while bouncing his leg. Then he’d look up at you and you’d just KNOW. Or he’d be walking somewhere on the other side of the room and he’s walking all slow and intense and he's giving you LOOKS to the point where you don’t want to look at him. It’s JUST subtle enough that no one seems to notice, but it’s hot. The type to duck down close enough to whisper, "I need you naked and on the bed as soon as we get home, you hear me?"

V - Volume (How loud they are, what sounds?) - Okay, if you ask Leo this question, he’s gonna deny he makes noises. He’s one of THOSE guys. Thinks it’s embarrassing. But he’s a liar. He is very noisy. He wasn’t at first, given his background paranoia around sex and masturbation and how ‘unprivate’ his life has been. But during sex, when he’s out of breath he makes growly, frustrated sounds. But on days when you treat him, when you’re riding him or giving him a bj and he’s 'not allowed to touch'- his moans get a little desperate and almost emotional. It’s rare but it’s SUPER hot when he whimpers. He won’t make a peep in the middle of orgasm but depending on it’s strength, his next noise can be pretty loud. Sometimes he bites something or buries his face in you in an effort to avoid letting anything out. While his noises are super sexy, watching Leo try to hide them is also kinda hot too.

W - Wild Card (Random) - He’s always secretly dreamed he could get married. Have a house, a wife and kids- His fantasy of having you married, barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen is something that will take him years to admit to you. Sex gets extremely vulnerable and intense for him very very quickly if you two start dirty talking about getting you pregnant. He will need an hour of recovery and closeness after, and if he doesn’t get that (if you two get interrupted or pulled away), anything that prevents him from recharging in your arms- he won’t be okay for a while. Leaves him in a dark mental space. 

X - X-Ray (what’s going on in those pants) - I am team cloaca. Leo's still pretty big, proportionate to himself, and that means MASSIVE for you. Despite the extra lubricant and smoothness of his erection, he takes great care to prepare you always for his size, if it even gets to that point. He’s not the type to think penetration is the best part of sex, and is happy to let it go for the sake of earning you and/or him a fantastic orgasm (or several).

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive) - He can go weeks without having sex, but that does not mean he doesn't want it.  The frequency of sex is not as high on the list as a lot of other things, but he craves it daily with you. His drive is very high, and he will pounce on every opportunity you allow. His self control, discipline, and life-long experience SUPPRESSING his sexual drive assist in keeping his yearning under control. 

Z - Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards) - Leo is huge on clean up, and he’s instinctively a provider so he is quick to hand you water, manhandle you on top of a towel, then curl up for cuddles and kisses and laughs. Sleep (especially deep sleep) is difficult for Leo. But if you provide him with a long, physically exerting session, a strong orgasm, your arms and legs around him and lots of cuddles and kisses, suddenly everything is right with the world, everything is going to be okay, and he always finds the best sleep like this. Always. 

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝ NAUGHTY GIRL. ❞

— minors dni, gojo x afab! reader, they’re both sassy, poly! stsgverse, he plays w/ your tits, sequel to “YOU LITTLE THIEF!”

A cool breeze awaits as you burst into mostly darkness. There’s a few headlights in the parking lot, other patrons coming or going. Glancing back, you catch sight of Gojo nearing the shoe rack. You curse his longer legs, and the color of Geto’s car which blends into the pitch blackness outside. You decide to run in the vague direction of where he parked, hoping it yields results that aren’t Gojo immediately catching up to you. Hopefully people don’t find you too suspicious, the way you’re ducking and weaving through cars to stay out of sight. Gojo’s nowhere to be found whenever you peep back to spot him. It raises the hairs on your arms, makes things a lot more suspenseful as if you’re trying to avoid some kind of knife-wielding murderer in a horror movie.

You finally spot Geto’s car, close to the back of the lot, and dive behind it so you’re next to the driver’s side door. Catching your breath takes a few seconds — you’re lucky his alarm isn’t activated to give you away. Approaching footsteps raise your heart rate, but it’s just some gaggle of teenagers walking by. Or a young a couple on their way inside. Not yet a white-haired man looking to do you harm (take his phone back).

Quietly, or as quietly as you can on gravel, you lift yourself up to peek through Geto’s dark, tinted windows. Despite being akin to a lighthouse tower, Gojo is nowhere to be spotted. It dawns on you that he might also be using cars as refuge. Perhaps if you looked underneath, you’d be able to spot him? Alright, let’s see, you think, lowering and regretting the idea as soon as your knees meet harsh rock. You look back, forth, back again. Nothing. What in the hell…?, you rise back to your feet, not noticing the looming, dark shadow approaching with abnormally quiet steps. Where the fuck did he go?

“Gotcha!” And Gojo muffles your terrified shriek with a large hand, other hand on your waist to pin you to the black car. “Aww, were you lookin’ for me down there, gorgeous?”

Brows drawn together, you inspect the place behind him, too concerned with how in the world he got behind you. He lets you strip his hand from your face to question him. “Where did you come from?”

Gojo grins, tilts his head a little to the side. “Can’t go around revealing my secrets now, can I?”

He takes delight in your unamused look, and your scoff. “What are you, a magician?”

“Nope, but you are. So make my phone appear, right now.”

“Or what? Are you gonna pat me down, Mr. TSA?”

Regret, immediately, as he rolls his eyes in thought. “Actually. Yeah, I am!”

You watch as Gojo pats your arms, waist, legs, one bold pat on your behind, before patting at your shoes. “You think your phone could fit in there?”

He looks up, and the sight of Gojo on his knees before you kind of makes you feel powerful. Like a deity. “I have to be thorough.” He pats you a little harder on the way back up, avoiding your chest, and pouts when he still finds nothing. “The hell? Where is it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Brat, he thinks. Gojo’s hands squeeze over your waist, pressing you against the car again. He leans over you until your foreheads are almost touching. “Give it here. Crook.”

That only prompts your giggle in response, e/c eyes never leaving the blues of his. Your hands fiddle with the edge of Gojo’s shirt, and he opens his mouth for another word before there’s a vibration from your chest.

Both pairs of eyes flicker to the faint glow beneath your shirt, and the bravado plummets from your face. “O-oh…”

He looks back up to grin at you. “Found it. I’ll be taking it back now.”

Before you can complain, Gojo slips a hand beneath your top, working his way up until it rests atop your bra, where he finds his phone half-tucked inside. Your breath stutters when his fingers slip underneath, smoothing over your nipple as he pinches the phone and tugs it downward. His other hand glides upwards to take it, and Gojo slips the phone in his pocket, but leaves one hand resting against your bare breast.

“Naughty girl.,” he scolds, thumbing over the stiffening bud. “Why was it in there huh? Did you plan this out?”

You fumble for a response. “I–, no–“

“Because,” a roll of your nipple has you arching into Gojo, where he wraps an arm around your waist. “You could’ve just asked, if you wanted me touch you. Use your words next time, baby.”

His lips make a home on your skin, placing gentle kisses along your neck, jawline, cheeks. It drives a series of mewls and whimpers from you, causes your thighs to clench together around his leg. “G–et off m-me, I’m going back ins-side.”

“Tryna run away again?,” Gojo mocks you, nipping at the sensitive part of your neck. “Cute. Sure, we can go back inside.” He gives a hard suck on the skin, sure to leave a mark, before pulling away to catch your hazy eyes. “You gonna behave for me?”

Even though Gojo can see right through you, needily panting and pushing your chest further into his palm, you still choose to be a little difficult. “Behave? Like some puppy—“

You yelp, him having tugged at your nipple, pinching it between his fingers. “Yep, like my good girl. Play nice, no more stealing or it’s wraps, got it?”

There’s an underlying threat in his statement, one that prods at your curiosity. But you decide to play along for now. “Fine.”

He gives your face another kiss, close to your lips. “Don’t like the way you said it. Again, with less attitude.”

“I didn’t have an attitude.”

“Well, you definitely have one now, so do it again.”

You roll your eyes, catching his expectant stare. His hand twitches at the bat of your lashes, the jut of your lip, eyes widening in an adorable pout. “I’ll be such a good girl for you, Satoru.” The way you purr his name is like gold in his ears. Gojo can feel a throbbing within his pants, but his hands retreat for now to leave you be. You’ll be sure to act up again, and he’s gonna let you have it when you do.

tagz: @staryukis @anthoosies

[trashmouth-richie]

eddie x fem! reader

master list

summary: Christmas time is here, eddie + you dance around the fact you’re both in love, corroded coffin performs.

w/c: 15k

warnings: NO MINORS —18+ only- mentions of Chad and his awfulness, thoughts of sex

a/n: s/o to my lovely coven for helping me tweak parts of this story, beta reading + letting me insert them through out the story @jo-harrington @blueywrites @newlips @pastel-pillows @loveshotzz @carolmunson @mopeymopeymouse @br0ck-eddie @courtingchaos @fracturedarkness @word-wytch @hellfirehottie420 @chestylarouxx @big-ope-vibes 💋 @agentmarvel @hxllfired ♥️♥️

“Don’t peek!”

“I’m not!”

“I mean it, you’ll ruin it if you peek!”

Large hands cover your already shut tight eyes as you walk forward blindly through the crunch of ice and heavy snow. The soles of your chunky boots leave behind inch deep footprints in the parking lot of Boom’s Auto shop.

“Eddie! oh fu— your hands are freezing!”

A deep husky chuckle hums in your ear, skating across the air and landing warmly on your cheek. A flushed heat accompanying the welcomed tickle of his laugh.

“Just a little further,” Eddie says with a laugh, still walking behind you, big hands blind folding your eyes. Maybe you should have mentioned that you don’t like surprises. The last surprise you had trusted was from your parents. And that resulted in them moving across the country to be closer to Kevin, cutting you out and leaving you behind.

Practically stamping your foot and stopping altogether you let out his name in a small whine.

“So impatient, Tooty,” he whispered like a ghost into your ear, sending a flock of goosebumps down your neck. His calloused hands itched at your soft skin. Your eyelashes tickling his palms. “I promise it’s worth the wait, just a little bit further.”

Sighing with hmmpfed pout, you trudge on, squishing snow beneath your feet.

“Okay, are you ready?” Eddie gleams, hinted delight in his voice like a child showing his parents his cubby at school.

“No,” you tease, eyes still closed, “I think I’ll just turn around and go home.”

Eddie breathes out a groan and tickles his cold fingers into your neck, giggling as you squeal, “see you brought your infamous attitude, sweetheart.”

Gasping for breath from the cold and trying to get away from Eddie’s frigid digits you quip, “ah, you know me, I don’t leave home without it.”

“Brat,” Eddie jokes, moving your shoulders into the perfect position he sees fit. “Alright b—Tooty, open your eyes.”

The sun shines blinding against the frosted white ground, stinging your eyes as you open them from the darkness of your eyelids and Eddie’s sheltered hands. Nestled in the back corner of the parking lot next to a pile of snow sits your car, sitting on 4 brand new tires.

Stunned beyond believe, heart full and ready to burst you are at a loss for words.

“Uh—, sorry it took so long, I fixed it up a little bit more than what was initially wrong with it, replaced the tires—they were pretty bad, fixed the headlights, completely flus— ”

Eddie’s mechanical explanation of what was wrong with your car and how he fixed it goes dead with a grunt and a gasp as you throw yourself into his arms, forgetting his healing ribs you fully wrap your legs around his waist. Ignoring the way the snow on your boots is soaking through his shirt making his back wet, his leather jacket riding up from your sudden jump into his arms. He is completely consumed in this moment. He doesn’t care. The whole world is in his hands, and he doesn’t want the warmth of your body to escape him. Soul on fire and the barricade around his heart completely down, grass growing where they lay now, he is enamored by you. The smell of your hair, how tight you are squeezing him around the back of his neck. Your thighs clutching him. He’s a mess. Melting more than Frosty did on the warmest day of the year.

Welling tears spill from your eyes, you whisper shyly, “thank you,” Floored by your own emotions, you are speechless. Outside of the Wheeler’s, you haven’t had someone care for you on such a personal level before. Eddie made you feel safe, he gave you a sense of calm that filled you with hope, filled you with joy. Not being able to fathom how your life has changed so much since he moved in, the anxiety of everyday life washing away with his smile. His goofiness rinsing the doubt out of the air. The bruise around his eye is fading, color returning back to its original beautiful paled complexion. Emotions running high, you can’t convey with words how grateful you are, instead you pull your head from his shoulder and turn it slightly. Pressing delicate mauve painted lips to his cheek. It’s sweeter than sugar. A dainty quick kiss as sudden as the first drop of rain hitting your cheek in the summer.

Wiggling down his body with one last squeeze around him, he doesn’t register that you are sliding away from him on purpose until he releases his hands on the back of your legs. Thankful for his long hair more than ever today, his ears are tinged red much like his cheeks, one colored with a mauve set of lips he never wanted to wash away. Keeping you with him forever.

Looking into Eddie’s eyes you notice how big they are, a smirk is dancing across his lips. Not wanting to ruin the sentiment, but anxious all the same, you push his chest lightly, a coy smile on your lips, “hungry?”

Oh he was hungry. Starved for you. Your touch, your lips, your smile, the way the sunlight caught your hair. He’s never been so hungry for affection in his entire life, and you were feeding him crumbs. Couldn’t you see he was on his knees begging, pleading for more?

“Always,” he finally sputters out, desperately hoping you didn’t see the tiny hearts floating around his head like a cartoon character in love, “but you’re driving,” he says tossing you your key ring, “time to be my chauffeur, babe.”

It feels weird to be behind the wheel of a car again, considering you haven’t driven in months. The same yellowed tree scent hung from your rearview mirror, no longer full of aroma, fake blue and green Mardi Gras beads jingle together as you bump along the neglected roads of Hawkins. Polaroids of you and Nancy smile back at you from beneath the dash. Various materials of scrunchies litter the gear shift. Loose change fills one of the cup holders.

The sound of a window rolling down and the smell of burnt tobacco has you looking over at Eddie. He looks like he’s in a clown car. Bent bare knees from the holes in his jeans are cramped against the dash. His long arms lighting two cigarettes, a brown filtered end for himself, and a white one for you. He inhales deeply, pushing the smoke out of his lungs and looking out the window, arm bent lazily, palm up to hand you yours. Shamelessly flirting, you carefully place your mouth around the cigarette, your lips grazing his knuckles as you look up at him, with a wink you retreat from him, your lipstick leaving another mark on his skin. Burning into him, inking his skin better than any tattoo he had gotten so far. The bob of his throat is more than noticeable as he gulps deeply. He trails his eyes from your devilish lips to your innocent eyes. Wide enough that Bambi would cry at the sight of them.

Eddie shakes his head with a sigh, choking on smoke as you smile to yourself. You don’t notice the way he readjusts himself in the seat, desperately trying to cross his legs, a heat in his cheeks that he would blame on himself getting a cold if you were to ask.

He’s like a child at a fair, touching every single thing in his line of vision, jokingly grabbing the oh shit handle with every turn you take. Flicking his lighter, moving the visor up and down and to the side, pulling this way and that. Adjusting his seat all the way backwards and then all the way forward when you stop at a stop sign, hand still on the lever, a laugh stuck in his throat as he’s practically folded like an accordion in the front seat.

Blondie’s “Call Me” plays and Eddie grabs the hairbrush he found in the glovebox as a microphone. He’s moving his shoulders in a way that suggests he’s a seductive lounge singer, throwing his hair behind him, then in front of him. His eyes dipped in alluring sex appeal, throwing his head back and showing the expanse of his neck. He laughs a maniacs giggle and so do you. Relishing the time spent with him.

“Thought metalheads didn’t dig Blondie,” you question, inhaling the last of your cigarette and discarding it out of the window.

Eddie chuckles, “Surprisingly enough, one of the regulars at the Hideout plays it on repeat while we’re clearing the stage. Every. Single. Night. Speaking of which, uhh—,” he wasn’t sure how to ask you, not even sure if you wanted to go— but it was worth a shot and what would it hurt— worse thing that could happen would be you saying ‘no’, “ya got plans the day after Christmas?”

Thinking for a while you didn’t want to let it on that you in fact had zero plans. It’s not as if your parents came home to celebrate with a dinner or take you to a movie, fuck they never even bothered to call.

“Merry X -mom dad & kev”

Barely a greeting. Just slanted, chicken scratch handwriting inked onto a blank 99 cent Christmas card. The cheapest of pens was used to write the five words, noted by the scribble at the bottom of the card, when the ink went dry. The card itself was very basic, crimson red with a cartoon Christmas tree on the front. More than likely purchased at a gas station with a carton of Marlboros and a microwaved bean burrito. Cold fingers wrap around the envelope, cotton gloves smoothing over the handwriting as if it were a cherished love letter from your husband lost at sea.

Without fail, the one time a year you heard from them, left you more hollowed than the previous one. And as bummed as you were, when Eddie saw the card in the trash can when he tied up the garbage for the curb, he didn’t hesitate, didn’t pry, didn’t ask. Just tied up the trash and didn’t say anymore about it.

“Hmm.. well the salon is closed so I won’t be working, why what’s up?”

Eddie leans over and turns the knob of the radio down, insinuating how serious he was, “well the band is throwing a gig at the Hideout, kinda like a party for everyone who needs to blow off some steam after the holidays… and I thought maybe you’d wanna go? I haven’t seen you at a Corroded Coffin concert since the 80’s.”

He was right, you hadn’t seen them perform outside of your own garage since high school. Busting his balls a little, your lips curl in a sweet tease, “would I make the fifth or the sixth drunk there?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and makes a face, “I’ll have you know, we actually have to sell tickets now, but you? I'm making you pay double for that mean comment.”

“Oh kiss my ass,” you laugh as he shove him lightly, “I guess I can make an appearance.”

Eddie grins ear to ear, he can’t wait to see you in the crowd smiling up at him. Since he’s moved in, he’s dreamt of the day you finally went to see him play again.

“Well I guess I’ll see you there, maybe even buy you a drink, if you’re lucky.”

He thumbs through your cassettes oooing and awing over your beloved tapes, plucking Stevie Nick’s Bella Donna tape and flipping it over to read the song list on the back.

Head spinning you imagine how sexy Eddie would look on stage. Imagining the sweet aroma of sweat dripping from his hair on his bare chest has you practically drooling, thankful that Eddie is pre occupied with your cassettes, you squeeze your thighs tight.

Eddie begins to hum dumbly along as the end of REO Speedwagon sings about taking it on the run, the mixed tape you’d had since high school plays the next song, Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car”. The beginning guitar melody rings into his ears, a song he hadn’t heard in years.

“You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere. Maybe we make a deal. Maybe together we can get somewhere. Any place is better. Starting from zero, got nothing to lose. Maybe we’ll make something. Me, myself, I got nothing to prove.”

The lyrics hit your soul, Tracy’s gentle voice singing calmly to you, roped tight with Eddie’s deep serenade, must be what the gates of heaven sound like when they’re opening. Like the two people in the song, you were both tortured by your pasts, aching for something real something new. You ached for him. Did he for you?

Looking over at him, the cords of his neck stretched tight, prominent muscles jutting out around a chain necklace he never took off. It’s impossibly thick, veins lining it perfectly, the best candidate for a vampire’s snack. Stopping yourself from wondering what your teeth would feel like against his skin there, you tear your eyes away from him. Would your tongue tickle from the bitter taste of his cologne? Would the slight drag of your teeth beneath his jaw drive him wild, feral like how you’re feeling? Heat blooming along your cheeks and flooding your belly. You can practically feel the silk of his skin on your lips, daydreaming about the noises he would make if you were to flick the tip of your pink tongue along his adam’s apple. Sucking sweetly, softly… you spend the rest of the drive to Benny’s lost and dazed, desperate for any sort of relief. Body, and soul.

-

The aroma of bacon grease hung thick in the air when you walked into Benny’s. The sagging, water stained wall paper and faded formica table tops were a staple for the dingy diner. Anyone not from Hawkins, would turn up their nose and leave, fanning their face like a woman in church in the south in the 30’s at the sight of the disheveled diner that somehow kept passing inspections. Benny kept the kitchen area spotless, but could not be bothered with the decor and upkeep of the simple things such as wallpaper and art that dated back to borderline colonial times.

Eddie licked his lips as he eyed the sticky and tattered menu. His stomach was an endless pit, a never ending gaping hole the size of the Grand Canyon. Two baskets of fries, a patty melt, a stack of pancake and a piece of cheesecake, “it’s for later,” he said with a smile, only to devour it in two forkfuls once it arrived in its “to-go” box.

“Thank you, by the way,” you murmur around a mouthful of peach cobbler, voice growing small. “For my car, and well everything you do— oh shit, what do I owe you guys?”

Eddie swallows hard, throat coated with the velvety cheesecake, “Nothing,” he answers as if it were an insult you even asked.

“C’mon Eddie,” you say rolling your eyes, “what do I owe you?”

He enunciates the word again, making syllables where they are otherwise not needed. Moving his head left and right as he gets closer and closer, moving over the booth’s table like a snake, the ends of his curls dancing over the tabletop, a smug look pressed on his lips as he licks his fork.

Pulling your eyebrows in and folding your arms across your chest, you narrow your eyes at him.

“It’s not gonna work,” Eddie says, leaning over to take the last bite of your peach cobbler, savoring the warm peach and sugar infused treat on his tongue, “your pouting games won’t work on me, no matter how fucking cute you look.”

The scowl set on your face would have impressed Medusa, before his smile broke you. He was good at that, breaking you out of your shell and opening your eyes to show you that life didn’t always have to be taken so seriously. Your smile matches his and he reaches for the bill, sliding out of the booth. Twisting your body to stand from the under stuffed cushion Eddie is standing in front of you, leaning with one hand on the table, bill curled in his grasp, the other on the back of the booth. He looks like he’s going to say something but it’s lost on his tongue. Defeat and uncertainty cloud his eyes, not here, not now. He hangs his head, shaking his curls lightly. Shaking the nervousness from himself. He reached a ringed hand out to you, eyes dripping with want and cheeks pinked in the prettiest blush on his cream colored skin, along with the mauve lipstick he never wiped off, wearing your lips proudly, a prize greater than gold burned into his skin.

Words fail him, he notices how when you’re around just how much you steal the breath from his lungs. Almost as if he is prepubescent, full of acne and a buzzed head all over again. Scared of girls, a gangly freak who people made fun of. A lost sheep. It had been years since anyone has made him feel that way, usually women were throwing panties at him, bras, themselves at times. It wasn’t hard for him to fulfill his temporary needs. One faceless broad at a time. You? You were nothing like that. He respected you, trusted you, wanted you to feel safe with him. Wanted to take you out and show you off as his girl, his Tooty. Would you want that? Would you want to be his?

“Ready?” He asks, voice low and his lips dripping with a teasing smile.

Nodding, he pulls you up to him, your smooth fingers wrapped in his rough calloused hands. His face tilted downward to yours, yours up to him. And all of his questions are answered by the look in your eyes. They’re warm, dreamy, sucking him in like a magnet to your soul, frantically yearning to connect yours with his. And he’s ready to give it all to you.

-

Standing at the faint remnants of color of the checkout counter, a waitress locks eyes with you first. Smiling warmly and making chit chat. Eddie slides the check around you onto the smooth surface, her bubble gum persona fleeting immediately at the sight of him, her brown eyes staring heavily through her bangs at the stained lipstick on his cheek. Giving you and Eddie a quickened glance, she makes a beeline for the back, knocking the stack of rolled silverware over as the door slammed home behind her.

It doesn’t take an expert to put two and two together. She was either an ex girlfriend or simply an ex lover. Either way, at one point in time they meant something to each other— and you weren’t sure how much or how little that something was.

It hits you then just how inexperienced you are. Eddie has probably slept with 100s of women; being the lead singer of a small town band gave him that privilege of doing so. Of course he has, he practically , if not not so practically told you himself. Wheels spin in your mind and you’re embarrassed at the way your nose tingles trying to push down the small inkling of jealousy brewing in your belly. What the hell would he want to do with you if there were so many other women, better looking, and definitely sexier— ready to be his flavor for the night? Being with Eddie was a joke and you were the punch line— why would a guy like him settle down with someone as vanilla as you?

Suspicion creeping it’s ugly face in your mind and making room for all its baggage as a large hand meets your lower back guiding you gently towards the door. He’s talking but it falls deafly around you. Not wanting to know, but finding difficulty in keeping your mind from wandering, you stretch into the unknown of just how many women Eddie has slept with.

The number didn’t matter.

Shouldn’t matter.

But it begged the question looming in your mind for weeks: would you be enough for him? Walking in jaded silence back to the car, the crunch of snow beneath your feet, wind whipping your hair in your face, Eddie’s warm hand on your back, rubbing slow circles as he joins your silence. Desperately looking through the clouds of your mind trying to find where you went.

Eddie might be a lot of things. He may not be that great at math, knowing the ins and outs of fractions to make his sales when he was a dealer for Rick didn’t exactly qualify him as a mathematician, he struggled with making friends when he was younger, learning that being an obnoxious kid didn’t win any gold stars in the popularity department. But he was profoundly excellent at recognizing people’s emotions, any tiny slip, slow shift— he could sense it immediately. So when you shut down, leaving only nods to his never ending questions, he knew you were hurting.

Fumbling with your keys from your pocket they are plucked from your grasp by thick ringed fingers,”Eddie what the h—”

“Just—,” he pauses then, unsure of what to say, how to explain how he feels about you, the words are thick on his tongue but he knows he needs to explain something first, “wait,”

He runs a hand through his hair and points back at the door to Benny’s, “I— I’ve never given a shit about any girl I’ve been with.” The line is not at all how he wanted it to sound, what was meant to be sincere came out as cocky and like he was almost bragging.

“Oh—kay?” you answer even more confused than you were already feeling. “What the hell does that have to do with me?”

He huffs a breath and kicks around snow with the toe of his boot, “I’ve never w— fuck,” he takes a few steps backwards throwing his paled face to the now blackened charcoal sky, muttering to himself. This was not going well. He could feel you slipping from his fingers. What was meant to be a nice night was now being spoiled by his incoherent thoughts, mouth moving faster than his brain could think. He looks back at you, your eyebrows raised, weight shifted with your arms crossed. Whatever message he was trying to convey was spilling a capital ‘F’ of his blood all over the snow, crimson coloring the white ground.

Chewing his tongue, jaw tightening with aggressive anticipation that he’s just fucking everything up—he finally spits it out, his mind cooperating with his mouth and all in one heavy, heated breath he practically screams, “goddamnit, Tooty— I’ve never cared about someone like how I care about you.”

Stunned, you stand stone still, watching him with large eyes.

“You— you’re the— fuck.” He moves quick, wrapping his fingers around your cheeks tilting your head up to him, the breath stolen from your lungs as you watch his eager eyes swirl with browns and blacks, Dr. Pepper fountains of bliss. He hesitates, licking his lips. Looking from your lips to your eyes and back again. Deciding not to do what he so desperately craves. But it’s not the right time. Not here. Not now. Not before he asks. Not before you understand the multitude of his seriousness. Not before you make it known that you want it too. Taking a deep breath he finds the courage to press forward, voice strong and steady, no longer breaking, no longer unsure. Confident. “No other girl— no groupie, no ex girlfriend no past fling— no one means shit to me except you, okay?”

Heart exploding piñata candy allover your body, tootsie rolls flowing through your arteries, cotton candy dancing in your lungs, sugary mars bubblegum filled lollipops peak from your eyes as you fall hopelessly further in love with him. His fingers melt into your cheeks, burning and dissolving your candy coated insides into a liquid fire of a molten river filled with pinked sweet syrup. You want to swim in his chocolate eyes like August Gloop. Never full of him.

Would he taste sweet? Oh how your lips cried a sorrowful song not being able to lick the sweet words that drip from them.

Later that night your stomach flutters thinking of his lips on yours. That small kiss on his cheek meant more to both of you than could be imagined. Solidifying there in the parking lot of Boom’s Autoshop, just how much you meant to each other. A silent agreement. An understanding. The line was crossed. The only question now is: who would jump with both feet first?

-

The dusty overstuffed Christmas tree box slides across the kitchen linoleum with a drag as you shove all your weight into it from the basement steps.

“You’re a stubborn woman y’know that?” Eddie grumbles from the other side of the box, pulling it further into the kitchen, circling back and reaching his hand out to help you up the steps. “I told you I would get all of this up after I got off work.” His work coveralls coated with deep stains of motor oil and grease, snow melting slowly on his boots.

Huffing low and climbing the last step you explain, “yep, and I told you, mister,” a long nail poking him in the chest, “that I didn’t need any help.”

“Yeah yeah, just gonna do everything by yourself your whole life, never asking for help?” Eddie asks, matching your attitude, booping your nose with a dirty greased soaked finger, his toothy grin on full display, “always just a little shit aren’t ya?”

A heavy scoff leaves your mouth, fake shock from your lips as you place a hand to your chest, “me? Think you have me confused with someone else, Mr. Munson.”

Eddie’s face twists with gross turmoil at the name. “Christ, I haven’t been called that since high school in Higgins office,” he turns his nose up and scowls, “please sweetheart, consult a doctor you must be ill.”

Bantering back and forth for a few minutes Eddie agrees on taking a shower before starting to set up the tree. “.. and whatever other girly shit you have planned for us.” He says with a laugh as he shuts the bathroom door and turns the silver knob for the shower head.

It was Friday night and since Nancy had moved out starting her own Christmas traditions with Jonathan, you were left with her same traditions in the same house but with a new someone to make them special with.

Chili was simmering on the stove. Rich and spicy just the way Karen Wheeler had taught you to make it, the counter held her famous cinnamon roll recipe, rising gently on the counter. It was engraved in your mind after watching her make them every Sunday for years, and you had yet to make them for Eddie. The kitchen smelled savory yet sweet, the mixed concoction floating heavenly notes of hunger induced stomach pains to the bathroom as Eddie toweled off, pulling a pair of gray sweatpants low on his hips. His hair hung in wet lengthy ringlets, dripping down his back as he emerged into the dim lit kitchen, a hunger in his belly— but not holding a candle to the fiery burn of want in his stomach at the sight of you.

The flour dusted lightly on your cheek could be mistaken for pixie dust with how magical you looked to him, the sleeves of your baggy red velour knit sweater were bunched around your elbows, bringing a spoon to your plump lips as you made them into a small ‘O’ blowing gently on the contents of meat, tomatoes, peppers and kidney beans cradled in the the silver utensil close to your lips.

Eddie had never been jealous of silverware before but he would give his left nut and his guitar away to be that lucky heated spoon for just one minute. Slotting the metal into your mouth, you hum a sigh of satisfaction as you savor the delectable bite, chewing slowly and licking your lips, Eddie is gripping the counter tighter than an old woman gripping her life alert as she tumbles to the ground. Fuck, he’d break a hip— hell no, he’d break every bone in his body just to have you hum around him, any part of him, his earlobe, his fingers, his cock, he didn’t care. Reaching up and brushing his own cheek like a coy school girl, he still felt the way your lips touched his cheek— and that was weeks ago.

“Think Jonathan still does secret investigative pictures for Murray Bauman if you were looking to snap a few pictures you little perv.”

Head swiveling towards him at your last word, you can’t keep the act up anymore, your cheeks feel like they’re going to burst with how wide you’re smiling, your laugh echoes off his naked chest and hits the cabinets, pinballing around the room, striking him like lightning in a summer storm— bright first and the thunderous boom coming after.

Snorting at your own joke and the way his cheeks heat with shame—caught with his hand in the cookie jar, drool practically falling from his lips as his mouth hangs open. He has never looked better. Your boldness stays long enough to send him a wink, and your stomach flutters when he returns it, rubbing his cheeks to will away the blush implemented on his skin.

“Are we going to eat or are you just going to keep making fun of me?” Eddie presses, a light shade of pink still tinged on his cheeks, his smile bright and cheerful.

Walking closer to him you let your body take control, mind not thinking. Useless in your head as you move with sure steps closer to him. Not wanting to know the repercussions of your actions, yet something about him has made you so sure that what you’re feeling was real. That he felt it too, reassuring you with his body language, his words. He wants this and so do you. Time to dive in. But the ache of rejection, fear of making a mistake, afraid to let yourself be loved when you aren’t worthy of it. Has your stomach in knots. Stopping short of your hands on his chest, the confidence is gone, buried beneath the savory smells of the kitchen and the heated stares between you both.

Uncertainty soaring, you place your hands on your waist, head hung in a cloud of anxiety, “tree first, then we can eat.”

Silently moving through the motions, you unbox the tree monotonously. Eddie’s raging war against himself. Begging the question of what happened to make you turn the flirting dial off. The tree is up, and you’re busy fluffing the branches after a year of being squashed in a box and stuffed into a basement. Overthinking what you said to Eddie, you can’t move past how he makes you feel.

It’s not as if you have had a boyfriend other than Chad, or even had anyone other than him kiss you, touch you, and none of that was enjoyable. Being with him was crippling, suffocating in a way that you weren’t ever sure you’d ever be able to breathe normally again. Living in a state of constant fear for years, waiting for the day he would return. And when he did—Eddie was there to comfort you, hold you while the panic attack riddled your body, collapsing in on itself. Eddie was there to pick up your broken pieces and mend them together with his silliness, his arms wrapped around your body shielding you from demons he couldn’t see. Taking the blame for something that wasn’t his fault. He was impossibly charming, good-looking and even though he could be a pain in the ass— you couldn’t imagine your life without him.

“Fuck, ow ow, shit, Tooty! I’m not a genius or anything, but there is no way this is right!” A quick jolt back to reality has you turning your head sharply to see Eddie tangled in emerald green ropes of colorful christmas lights. Entwined in his hair, around his thick fingers, and arms. Christmas clashing with his tattoos he’s all furrowed brows and huffed breaths. You desperately try to stifle a smile but fail miserably. “It’s not funny! It hurts!”

“Eddie,” you choke out in between laughs, reaching up with delicate fingers, and a laugh buried in your chest you begin to untangle his messy curls from the strings of lights. Adjusting his curls this way and that his brows lax at your pretty face so close to his. There they are again, the lips that kept him up the last few nights. The lips that could be full of vinegary insults, and sweet sultry compliments. The silky skin of them call out to him in his dreams, purring his name.

Feeling the need to explain himself for earlier, “for the record, sweetheart, I was staring at the spoon, n—not at you.”

Smooth. Jesus Christ.

“The spoon huh?” Giggling at his lie, untangling his rings and fingers from the lights, releasing him from the holiday handcuffs, “really? and what was so interesting about it, hmm?”

Eddie grabs your hand as it slips from his hair, leaning close enough that his chest is brushing yours, “I have a grudge against it.”

Confused, you pull your eyebrows inward, “what?”

His lips are licked and he holds your hand palm to palm your fingers between his, hugging his rings in your small grasp. His other hand travels up to your chin, laying lightly against your delicate skin. Small strokes of his thumb outline your top lip, and you suck in a quickened breath. Your knees are weak, and you lean into his touch, pushing yourself closer, skimming your fingers along the charcoal outlines on his chest.

The satiny pillows of your lips against his rough calloused skin send him to heaven on angel’s wings. His eyes are trained on your mouth, thumb lining your Cupid’s bow. He circles downward, studying your lips like a map, following the path of Magellan to the corner of your mouth. Face studied hard he doesn’t see the way your eyes have closed, and barely registers the nails on your hand scratching his chest in delight. If your lips were a test, he’d pass with flying colors. Every line is memorized, the color is painted more beautifully than that asshole on tv painting sceneries of birds and rivers. He’s not even breathing, and you aren’t sure if you’re awake or asleep. His fingers act like melatonin lulling you to sleep with each sweep across your lips. Pulling your bottom lip down, a noise escapes his throat as he watches it pop back up against your teeth with a soft thump.

“The spoon is lucky,” Eddie admits through broken breath. His words flow through you like the smoothest water against a creek bed, rippling and bubbling in your veins pooling in your core and heating your body with lust.

“Eddie,” you hum, sending a vibration through his fingers to his now throbbing cock. The oven beeps and you jump in his hands. Forced back to earth from the ethereal spin of Eddie’s warm fingers massaging your skin. Pulling away from him is harder than erasing a permanent marker, getting year old puke stains out of a carpet, harder than overcoming the worst pain you’ve ever felt. Padding into the kitchen you straighten your sweater, lungs burning with aching want to be filled with Eddie’s essence.

Placing the cinnamon rolls into the center of the warmed oven, you turn to find him behind you, silver Christmas ornament bulbs hanging from his nipple rings. “Think Walt would hire me to dance on stage for Christmas?”

This was routine for you and Eddie, intense moments followed by giggling laughs. An endless circle on repeat. If you weren’t ready to jump he wasn’t going to push you. He’d wait for you, however long it would take for you to be ready to admit that he loved you and you loved him back.

-

The tree was up and lit, beautiful colors of red, blue, yellow and green shone brightly against the dark evergreen. Sitting at the table eating chili and cinnamon rolls, Eddie looks like a kid in a candy shop. Eyes blown wide and sparkling. “Y’know I’ve never done that before.”

“Put Christmas bulbs in your nipple rings?”

After the light fiasco Eddie hung the decorations with care and slotted two silver Christmas bulbs in his nipple rings, shaking his chest around, a twang in his voice, “my stage name is Elejandro but honey you can call me big E.”

“Well that either,” Eddie laughs, wiping a rogue dribble of chili away from his chin, “but no, I’ve never decorated a Christmas tree.”

Swallowing the mouthful of cinnamon roll you mull over his confession, “did I just take your Christmas virginity?”

“Guess so,” he grins, shoveling another spoonful of the hearty chili into his mouth using his cinnamon roll to soak up the tomatoey broth. “Aren’t you lucky?” It was your turn to battle away your thoughts as he licked the back of his spoon then his lips. Oh his wicked tongue would be more than delicious on more than a few places on your body.

“Who’s the perv now, Tooty?” Eddie gleamed, his smile turning upwards in a satanic smile. The heat from your cheeks would fill a cold room with warmth. A wink from his eyes has you both smiling again. Teetering towards uncharted waters but not quiet dipping toes into the waters of giving in, not yet.

-

After cleaning up supper and listening to Eddie thumb through the medicine cabinet for the Tums, you whipped up the sugar cookies and pulled them out of the oven.

They were cooling on a wire rack on the counter. Icing, sprinkles, Christmas themed m&ms and twizzler pull apart licorice were filling the brim of small styrofoam bowls. Hot chocolate was bubbling in mismatched ceramic mugs in the microwave. Awaiting their marshmallow floaties to join the rich chocolate bath.

“Cookies too?” Eddie asks, a shit eating grin on his face as he’s coming back inside from his after supper cigarette, the chill of the frozen air following him on his heels, “baby, you’re spoiling me.”

Baby.

The sentiment falling to the deep pit of your stomach making you clench your thighs tight, a skipped heart beat sending heat through your body. It’s definitely not the first time you’ve heard him say it but the way his eyes sparkle and are half lidded have you liquified into a soupy puddle of goo.

Pushing down the heat building in your body, inhaling deep through your nose, you try to keep it together. It’s getting more and more difficult. The feelings you have for Eddie have been steadily growing fonder since Halloween. That stupid Jesus costume had you thinking the unholiest thoughts for weeks. And now he’s sweeter than ever before. Looking like heaven’s fallen angel, Satan's favorite son. A cherub face with a demonic mind, the perfect disguise. There wasn’t a single square inch of him you hadn’t thought about in ways that would make holy water simmer on your skin. Fuck.

“—Tooty?” fingers snap in your face as you’re pulled from the fiery depths of pure joyful sinful lust filled hell. Eddie as the devil and you sitting at his right hand, his hands.

“Christ, you look possessed,”

Oh how you were.

“S-sorry,” you stammer out, a nervous laugh pushes from your lungs as he smiles at you.

Eddie and you were just two misfits, throwing together a Christmas like it was normal for you both. A normal that you could very easily get accustomed to.

-

“You what?!” Nancy shrieks in the booth next to yours as she rolls another perm rod into her mother’s hair. Her thin eyebrows are hidden beneath her straight bangs a look of disbelief planted on her face, “holy fuck, you’re serious?”

Explaining to Mrs. Nancy Byers and Karen Wheeler about your developing feelings for your roommate, left one of the related women stunned, the other with ecstatic delight.

Karen claps her hands, a fuschia smile on her lips, eyes bright and fighting back tears, “oh sweetie I am so happy for you.”

“Thanks,” you say shyly, fiddling with the combs on your counter, “and yes Nance, I am serious.”

Fingers moving rapidly she rolls the rest of Karen’s hair before saying anything else. “I’m happy for you, too ya know,” Nancy finally admits, “I saw the way he stared at you on Halloween.”

“Saw who stare?!” Robin chirps as the bell above the front door dings, announcing her Kramer-esque arrival, spinning chaos in a denim jacket. She slots her wirey frame in your chair, snowy boots plopped on your counter.

Nancy spins Karen around and motions for her to sit under the dryers. “Seeing Eddie stare at Tooty on Halloween,” she explains to Robin.

Robin nods and flicks through your brushes and hairsprays on the counter. “Oh for sure, he’s in love with her, it's so obvious.”

A bloom in your chest erupts as heat floods your cheeks. Robin’s confirmed words spread open your chest with adoration and love. It’s one thing to think someone might like you, hope they will reciprocate the same feelings, but it’s quite another thing to have multiple other people notice the feelings growing between you and someone you're crazy about.

Robin, Nancy and yourself gossip for the rest of your shift. Robin leaving with fire engine red hair, matching the blood pooling around your heart, beating for Eddie, aching for his touch, his smile, his stupid jokes. All of him. You were ready to take the dive.

-

“Oil change on this thing already?” Eddie laughs as Steve jumps out of the midnight black G-Wagon, tossing the keys in the air to himself.

Steve chuckles and threads his fingers through his hair, “yeah, new job has me traveling most of the time, and whenever I don’t want to fly— they provide me with this bad boy,” a sparkly gold plastic credit card is pulled from his wallet.

He goes into detail about how he has been taking Leighanne with him on his trips and just got back from seeing the Christmas tree lighting at Rockefeller Center in New York, how he’s sure he’s in love with her. “I’m happy for you, man.” Eddie says, “she seemed like she really was into you.”

Steve smiles, a cigarette between his teeth, “how’s the whole situation with Tooty? Make a move yet?”

Eddie lights his own cigarette, mulling over his answer. The short of it was, things were going … steady? They weren’t moving forward but not necessarily moving backwards either. He thought you felt the same way he yearned for you, but what if he made his move and you recoiled? He would die if he made you feel uncomfortable in any sort of way. You were his main goal, his end game, his one in a million, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he screwed it up.

His stomach in knots he feels like he could puke all over the patent leather of Steve’s shoes.

“I think it’s good?” Eddie blurts, confusion in his tone and a nervous hint of dread. “I care about her a lot— and I’ve told her that, I— ” he swallows hard, unsure of his next sentence but needing some advice, “I just don’t know how to show her that she means more to me than just a friend or a roommate or my friends’ sister.”

Steve looks at him confused, “dude,” he asks in all seriousness, “are you a virgin?”

The choked out bellering laugh Eddie emits from his body scares away the birds resting their feet on the telephone line. “Steve, what part of me being in a band and a cocky asshole screams virgin?”

“Well, you’re acting like one! ‘I don’t know what to do!’ Fuck man, stop being so scared and just tell her how you feel!”

Eddie's laugh turns sour, “I’ve never had to do this before, I haven’t been in a relationship in six years, and even then, I never once felt how I do about Tooty. So yeah I am scared because I don’t wanna fuck it up or have her think I’m just some creep like that fuckwad Chad.”

Steve shakes his head, and grabs Eddie by the shoulders, “you’re overthinking this, like a fuck load—she likes you, I know she does because whenever I talk to her she’s always telling me about something you did that day, but if you want some guidance— I’ll help you out.”

The greatest heads of hair in Hawkins, Indiana work for the next half hour, developing a plan for Eddie to make his move before he lost you.

-

Soft, pillowy blankets of pure white snow cover the cramped poverty stricken Forest Hills Trailer Park. Illuminating the impoverished community in a mask of Christmas spirit. White, and pristine. An illusionists dream, one so great that someone might have mistaken the rotting trailers and the broken down vehicles as heaps of snow instead of the decrepitness that would show truth when the masking snow melts and brings forth the ugly harshness of muddy roads and sinking foundations.

Spending Christmas Day with Eddie and meeting his uncle had brought a sweetness to your insides, eating away the sourness that the holidays delivered most years, a steady reminder that you were passed down like a pair of jeans. It had been Eddie’s idea to bring dinner over to his uncle's place and you were more than excited to get another peek at his world. Having talked to Wayne on the phone about what he would like you to make for food, his voice was gruff but serene, calling you ma’am and answering your questions between puffs of his cigarette.

“Darlin’,” Wayne answered after the second time of you asking if he was sure that it didn’t matter what you brought over; he didn’t want you to fuss over him, “we could have Surfer Boys pizza for all I care, but if you do make something— you make damn sure that nephew of mine is helping ya, alright? I ain’t raised no man to sit and watch work bein’ done, no matter what he thinks.”

Giggling with a hand to your mouth, Eddie rolls his eyes, cheeks burning crimson, “Christ Wayne,” he breathes, “pipe down or I’ll take your Christmas present back.”

A hacking cough rumbles from the other end of the phone as the two Munson men bicker back and forth.

Settling on garlic mashed potatoes, swedish meatballs, green bean casserole, dinner rolls, and the second pumpkin pie since Eddie ate the first one with a fork and a container of cool whip on the couch after work yesterday; you and Eddie stand at the door of the sky blue trailer the morning of Christmas Day, arms full with casserole dishes and desserts.

The door opens and the waft of a bachelor-esque aroma hits your nose. Stale cigarettes, and laundry soap combine is a surprisingly comforting smell as Wayne Munson meets you at the door. Icy blue eyes crinkled at the edges take a look at all the food balanced between four arms and immediately grabs the containers from you, cigarette planted between his fingers as he slides the food into his own arms. “Lord,” he huffs, “you been cookin’ all morning?”

Eddie holds the door open with his foot and ushers you in, hot on your heels to get away from the bitter cold. “Hell yeah she has been,” Eddie said proudly, showing you off like a 4H blue ribbon, “she wouldn’t even let me taste test it.”

Shying away from his compliments you place the mashed potatoes on the counter, turning around to get a full look at the tiny trailer.

Mugs of various assortments, sizes, colors and shapes decorate the wall above the door. A row of dusty long forgotten hats, balances over the window above the brown couch. A small tv is set in the corner of the living room, a table that has seen better days is wedged into a tight corner across from the cabinets in the kitchen, two matching chairs and a third aluminum folding chair propped against it, the seat hard cracking plastic, stuffing spilling out. The fridge is small but functional, a brass magnet with a clamp holds a hand written note of dates, some crossed out in red ink, others upcoming left alone, next to a calendar. The home is well loved and portrays everything you expected from a bachelor pad. Simple, tidy, cramped.

Imagining Eddie in high school living here, you wonder if the brown couch held more than just dust and well grooved ass prints. Memories of Eddie’s previous lovers? One night stands? The thoughts make you shiver with jealousy and disgust as you take lids off of containers and place aluminum foil from the meatball tray on the side of the counter. Eddie and Wayne are on your right talking about a leaky shower head, the cost of replacement parts and how much it would cost to get a new one.

“… agh,” Wayne argues, “it won’t take me long to take it all apart and figure it out, ain’t no need to go out and buy a new one.”

“Alright stubborn ass,” Eddie pokes, a toothy grin on his face, “just trying to make it easier on you.”

Wayne and him laugh, greeting each other with a hug. Eddie is a whole head taller than Wayne, their stark differences are completely night and day. Where Eddie is pale, Wayne’s skin is weathered and tan, the piercing blue eyes are ice against his tan complexion, meanwhile Eddie’s eyes are so dark they could be mistaken for black holes in the galaxy.

The Munson men pull away with slaps on the shoulders and jokes about frail bones and old age. When Eddie looks at you next Wayne’s eyes follow, his ruddy ringed hand gesture to you with a palm upwards, presenting you like a celebrity, “Wayne, this is Tooty, Tooty, this is my uncle Wayne.”

Smiling sweetly and stretching your hand forward for Wayne to shake you are enveloped with his warmth through his heavily calloused hands. “Pleasure to meet ya darlin’, Eddie ain’t ever brought a girl home for me to meet before.”

Never brought a girl home.

How could you be the first? Eddie dated Chrissy for an entire year, and you’re sure he’s had more than one girlfriend in the past. Including the waitress at Benny's. Why wouldn’t he have brought any of them to meet Wayne? Clearly his uncle means a lot to him, and you remember how Eddie was with Chrissy, how much he cared about her… why did she never come back to the Munson home?

Eddie interjects your thoughts, his cheeks pinked with embarrassment, “Wayne what the f—.”

“Ah hell, I forgot I bought some paper plates, let me go get ‘em from the truck.” Wayne tuts, walking quickly past you and Eddie, the cool rush of air fills the room and the snap of the screen door has Eddie shaking his head. Murmuring to himself about needing to keep his mouth shut as he busies himself with getting forks and knives from the wonky drawers.

-

Empty plates and full bellies coordinate into a sleepy haze between you all. Wayne’s contagious laugh fills the kitchen as Eddie groans when the small photo album is passed around the table. “Remember this one Ed? Damn you were madder’n a hornet that day when Mrs. Milford asked you to mow her yard.”

“Ya,” Eddie yelled, “that’s cause there is no yard she just made me pick up rocks, and most of it was dog shit from Rocko!”

Wayne’s bellering laugh brings tears to your eyes at Eddie’s misfortunes. A picture of a younger Eddie no older than ten years old, dirt and a scowl on his face, same big doe eyes and a bad haircut.

A smile finally breaks on his face seeing your smirk dance on your lips as you wipe the laughing tears from your eyes.

The three of you spend hours laughing, Eddie and Wayne clean up the table as you put food in Tupperware containers for Wayne, slotting them into the fridge and stacking them neatly.

The Christmas present Eddie had for Wayne was in the back of the van and was heavy. Wayne jumped in to help Eddie carry it in, tutting and making a fuss when you told him you could do it, “no ma’am, you sit down right there, I mean it!”

Once outside, the two Munson’s light up cigarettes, exhaling puffs of smoke into the chilled air, the crunch of snow beneath their boots.

“Sure was nice to meet your girlfriend Ed, I think she’s a keeper,”

Not missing a beat and rolling his eyes Eddie all but screams, “Wayne for fucks sake we are not dating, I told you this! Or did you turn senile since I moved out?”

“Well I just thought that if I’d tease ya enough about it you’d do somethin’ about it ‘stead of gawking at her all night like she’s gonna break.”

Eddie's ears burn, “I have a plan, it’s just not something I wanna ruin— I gotta do it right, she isn’t like anyone else— she— she means more to me than that.”

“I’m proud of ya son, finally grew up,” he claps a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, “you be good to her. Don’t know anyone of your other girly friends, or whatever you call ‘em, who'd dare step foot out in these parts.”

-

Eddie's gift to Wayne had been a bigger tv, one he could watch Gunsmoke on and be able to see it comfortably from the couch instead of squinting. Wayne smiled from ear to ear and kept on smiling when he stood at the door and waved goodbye to you both.

Cheeks sore from laughing, exhausted from the day you yawn behind a mittened palm. Watching the street lights bounce and sway as Eddie drives you both home.

“Can’t be tired already are you?” He asks, smoking a cigarette lazily, smoke billowing from his nostrils and around his curls.

You stretch your back, arching it against the cracked leather of his seats, a yawn slips from your mouth, “Just a little bit,” your voice is small and strained from the stretch, eyelids heavy.

He pleads with slight desperation in his tone, “don’t fall asleep on me yet,” his eyes are soft and tender, blinking slow and gazing into yours, “I still have to give you your present.”

“Present?”

Eddie and you hadn’t talked about getting each other presents even though you had one wrapped neatly in a small box in your bedroom at home.

His face lights up as your eyebrows pull into a quizzical ponder. “It’s nothing big,” Eddie shrugs nonchalantly even though his insides are fiery pools of gummy liquid, tangled knots of rope, “just something kinda silly.”

Heated cheeks and a delicate fluttering in your stomach keep you awake the rest of the way home, the fluttering increases anytime Eddie catches you looking at him, his lips pursed in a smirk.

Inside, you speak few words. Eddie tosses his keys on the table, a jingled clink as it skids and stops amongst the stack of mail. The creaking leather of his jacket is soft as it rubs with the flannel fabric of his shirt as his arms are pulled from it, tossing it on the back of the wooden chair. He sits to unlace his boots. The overhead light dances off of the silver of his chunky rings, highlighting his large veiny hands, working in a fluid movement of untying the laces from the eyelets. Those powerful hands. His talented fingers. Aching for them to be on your skin you are tantalized by them. Eyes never moving from the skin pulled taut on his knuckles, chapped and pink from the chilled air and the refusal to wear gloves.

Your own shoes are off, toes begging for warmth as you walk gingerly to your room and change into pajamas. What gift did Eddie have for you? Would he think your gift was weird? Pushing the negativity from your mind, you change into comfy pajamas.

Eddie was waiting in the living room with your gifts behind his back. His mind racing and heart thumping noisily in his chest. He had run this through his mind more times that he could count, obsessing over the fine minute details for days. He had calculated the perfect way to do this with the help of Steve. Tonight was the first part and tomorrow, after ‘A very Merry Corroded Christmas at the Hideout,’ he was going to ask you on a date, a real one. One that he borrowed fancy cologne from Harrington, cleaned his van out for, one that ended with him telling you how crazy he is about you, how he thinks you hung the moon, any and all cliches surmounting every horribly sad country song that Boom made them listen to at work, he’d sing them if you wanted that from him. He’s never felt more like a sap in all his life, but for you, he’d be everything and more. And if he was lucky— and you were ready—maybe he would steal a kiss.

His daydream is cut short when you shuffle from your room to the living room. Christmas tree lit behind him, makes him look fit to be an angel sitting atop the tree rather than standing in front of it, the same smirk he always wore skirting across his face.

The red flannel he’s wearing is rolled to his elbows, pushed up haphazardly. A silver chain hanging delicately around his neck and disappearing in the opening to his shirt. Heart nearly stopping at the sight of him, you walk the same way towards him that he’s standing, hands behind your back, fingers digging into the foiled Christmas wrapping.

“Okay,” Eddie says nervously licking his lips, “let’s countdown from 3 and we can exchange? Does that work?”

Nodding enthusiastically, your mind is screaming at you— your gift is too much, he’s gonna hate it, he’s gonna think it’s weird that you bought this for him. Stomach churning like butter, you hear Eddie’s low velvet voice counting down. At his voice dipping lower when he gets to one you slip the sweat slicked thin box from behind your back and lean hold it out in front of you.

Your chapstick smile is sweet and adoringly beautiful, Eddie nearly drops your present from behind his back at the sight, fingers clutching to the silky wrapped handles of the gift bag with Santa’s fat white ass climbing up into a chimney on the front. His arm swings forward and holds the bag by its handles on one thick finger, like a bomb ready to explode at any second.

Eyes wide and bright he places the gift bag in your hand and exchanges his present for yours. “Eddie you didn’t have to do this,” you gasp at the sight of the bag, “you already fixed my car and wouldn’t let me pay you.”

“Yeah well,” Eddie starts rubbing the back of his neck, “open it and we’ll decide if I should have or not.”

Placing the bag on the ground and taking the crinkly emerald green and sparkly gold tissue paper out one sheet at a time, Eddie’s eyes never leave your hands as you reach the bottom of the bag and they hesitate. His heart jumps to his throat, stomach falling out of his ass. It’s too much, you hate it. Of course you do, it was a stupid idea to begin with. Why the fuck did he ask Gareth for his help? His original idea would have been better than this, and now look! You’re about ready to rip his goddamn head off like a praying mantis or some shit. SON OF A B—

A shrill laugh erupts from your lungs as Eddie feels a tidal wave of relief wash over him. Tucked into the bag, folded as neatly as Eddie could, you pull out a black t-shirt, safety pins decorate the hem, a homemade ripped neckline. Corroded Coffin's sadistic logo is printed on the front and beneath it reads, ‘Eddie’s babysitter’ in bold white lettering. Fingers tracing the lettering you haven’t stopped laughing yet.

“I—I was deciding between ‘babysitter’ or ‘manager’ but went with th— I just figured you needed something to wear for tomorrow and I thought this would be c— do you hate it?”

“Hate it?!” you squeak between giggles, “Eddie this is the best gift I’ve ever received, I can’t wait to wear it.” You meant that, the thought that went into this, the personalization. The almost possession of being anything of Eddie’s made you weak in the knees.

“Thank fuck,” he breathes, finally able to take a breath and relax, “shit I have something else for you too, but uh.. close your eyes and turn around for me.”

His breath on your neck drives goosebumps and flutters all over your body. The cool feel of a necklace tightens on your neck as Eddie latches it closed, and goes slack once he’s finished. His hands trail down your back and land on your hips to turn you back around. His fingertips digging into your flesh ever so lightly.

The necklace is heavy, something weighing it down but you can’t be sure what it is, it’s not until you glance at his hands that you notice one of his rings is missing, the chunkiest of them all, the pig head is no longer on his middle finger, but around your neck instead.

His fingers skate along your neck as he adjusts it into place, tickling your collar bones with his finger tips, sending shivers across your skin, he keeps this up and you’ll be permanently goose pimpled for the rest of your life. You’d wear them proudly if it meant his hands never left you.

“There,” he announces in finality, his eyes dip to your lips, the necklace and back to your eyes, “aren’t you just the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Core throbbing and pooling with molten hot lava at his complimentary words, his velvet, panty dropper voice. Fuck, he is so pretty it hurts.

“Better open your present before your mouth gets you into trouble,” you whisper, blinking long and slow as you stare back into the depths of his eyes, lost in the muddy galaxy.

He grins, his fingers walk up your neck and cup your chin, bringing you ever so slightly towards him, enough that you can feel his breath on your own lips, his tobacco voice pulling you in and wrapping you tight in a nicotine high that they’d make quit ads for in the upcoming future, “oh princess, I’d pay to be in that kind of trouble.”

and you’re floating, in this moment there is no sound, just two souls shedding the last layer of self doubt, the last inkling of the unknown as your toes dip in the warm pools of the burnt caramels of Eddie’s eyes. His lips are slick and you want to get a taste, want to feel the chapped crack in his bottom lip nestled against your tongue, busting the crack open and savoring his blood in your mouth.

The fervoring tension has never been this strong and you wonder if you’ll be able to pull away or if you’ll push yourself up on your tippy toes and close the inch gap between you, sealing your feelings with a kiss. But it’s Eddie who pulls away, taking a ragged breath and hitting himself lightly in the head with your carefully wrapped present.

He could feel the flames from your lips, the sweet venom of your tongue was sirening out to him, but he wouldn’t, couldn’t do it. He has a plan in place and no matter how hard all puns intended it was for him to pull away from you, he had to. Wanting to follow his plan, making sure his i’s were dotted and his t’s were crossed he’d never studied harder for anything in his life. He’d pass this test for sure, having obsessed and studied the material for months, staying up late most nights to tune out the fine details. He’d get this right.

Your eyes droop as he steps away from you tangled in his web of desire you can’t get unreleased from. His fingers slide along the taped edge of the wrapper and you’re certain you’re going to fold like a chair at the way the veins bulge in his hands. He’s looking at the gift you bought, a silence on his lips as you drool for the way he’s holding it. He’s stammering, suddenly an impediment in his vocal chords as his tongue twists thickly against his teeth.

“No way— No fucking way!” He’s screaming, pulling his hair and jumping around the room in a boyish giddiness.

“M-Metallica! Tooty!! No way, dude no way! These are fake right?!”

They weren’t.

Robin always had a craft for winning stupid shit and when the radio station out of Indianapolis announced they were giving away tickets to see Metallica in February to caller number 18, Robin just so happened to call the radio station requesting to do a shout out for Vicky and ended up winning the tickets. The night she came to you to color her hair, you exchanged the service for the tickets.

Before you can answer he grabs you up in his arms, spinning you around the room, holding you tighter than a safety belt on a rollercoaster. He spins and spins as you both laugh like kids.

“Merry Christmas Eddie,” you whisper in his ear when he stops spinning. He’s holding your waist, and you’re on the tips of your toes, his head buried into your neck.

“Why are you so good to me?” Eddie asks solemnly against your neck, his voice vibrating your skin in a heated pulse.

Not answering for a long time, you bathe in his musky scent, his hair tickling your face in silky curls. His strong arms holding you tight against him, your fingers playing with the opening of his flannel and the ends of his curls, your cheek right against his chest, moving with his breathing.

“Because I want to be,” you finally answer, pulling away and getting lost in his inky warm eyes, “you deserve it.”

He reels you back in, his chin atop your head. Minutes melt together and you aren’t sure how long you stand this way, hip bones fusing together as one with your hearts aligning, your eyes have been closed for a while and you feel cracked lips on your forehead, making you shiver as he whispers, softly into your hairline, “my angel.”

-

The next day is filled with chaos. The guys are in and out of the house at the ass crack of dawn bouncing speakers and other odds and ends you didn’t even know were in the house against each other into the back of Eddie’s van. Wearing Eddie’s necklace proudly close to your heart you make them all sit to eat breakfast burritos. They eat and leave with a flash, but not before Eddie comes back through the door. He grabs your hands, holding them softly in his calloused grip, “See you at the show?”

Smiling widely and trying to will the heat from your cheeks away, you answer, “wouldn’t be a proper babysitter if I wasn’t there to watch now would I?”

“Should have made you the janitor,” Eddie grins and as he sees you still wearing his ring around your neck, he tosses you a wink that could liquify smoke. His tall frame slinks out the door driving like a bat out of hell to go set up at the bar.

-

The jeans you’re wearing are so tight accentuating your ass to explicit levels, the worn docs you’ve had for years are perfectly broke in and comfy on your feet, the shirt Eddie made for you wrapped around your chest perfectly, the letters of bending the ‘C’ and the ‘N’ on either side.

Steve, Leighanne, Robin and Vicky pick you up around 6, Robin with her fire engine hair and fishnet stockings under holy jeans. Vicky in a plaid printed overalls and a beret. Steve and Leighanne are both wearing jet black, her in a sheer sleeved button up shirt and a long black skirt. Steve wore an old band shirt he borrowed from Eddie. Your nerves were frazzled but settled slightly when Leighanne and Robin cat called out the window as you paraded down the front steps.

The drive to the Hideout had you stifling a chunky vomit in your throat. Nervous beyond belief you couldn’t shake it. Eddie had asked you to come, made you your own shirt to wear just for tonight, he clearly wanted to see you, wanted to have you watch his band play. Breathing in and out in exaggerated breaths Steve parks the G Wagon and it’s time to go inside. Here goes nothing.

-

Eddie wasn’t kidding, the bar was busy and posters with the bands silhouette were sticking on every surface in the bar and outside of it. Outside the bar was a girl around your age, short in stature, her brown hair piled high on her head, brooding green eyes piercing your own as she smoked a cigarette, selling tickets.

Eyeing your shirt she rolls her eyes, “you must be Eddie’s special guests,” she spits, eyeing you up and down, a jealous pitch in her voice, “guest of honor my ass,” she mumbles to herself as she lets you in free of charge. The Hideout was exactly how you remembered it to be. Pungent smells of spilt liquor and cheap keg beer fill your nose, the smoky haze filling the bar is a welcomed reminder that this place was a legendary spot in Hawkins.

Eddie and the boys were on stage setting up amps and speakers. His long curls catch the light and showering the room with amber swirls of caramel and chocolate. He’s wearing a cut mid drift shirt that looks like it would fit a toddler, his tattoos and fine definitions of his hips and slight abs are on display. Every vein in his arms are protruding and river lined. He’s the single sexiest man on the planet and your body was running over with want.

“Let’s get a drink, yeah?” Steve motions to the sticky counter of the bar. A dark curly haired woman with enormous boobs and red lipstick wearing a t- shirt reading “daddy’s girl” is behind the bar. She’s familiar to you but only in passing, the more you think the more you recognize her as Max's older brother’s girlfriend. Her long red nails clack on the sticky counter as she waits impatiently for you to make a decision.

Steve orders for him and Leighanne and orders Robin a water with a straw, never living down her behavior on his birthday. Vicky and you both order beers that probably should have been cold but with the daggering stare the bartender drove into your skull you didn’t dare ask.

Pocketing the cash Steve slapped into the counter in her bra, she made her way over to the extremely intoxicated drunk girls there for a bachelorette party.

“You’re so fucking pretty, you’re like my bestfriend,” a girl with wavy brown hair and glasses slurs to her friend, her voice up an octave as they power slam fruity drinks that resemble melted skittles.

“I hope Greg realizes what you’re giving up to be with him,” the girl with pinked red hair shouts above the others her leopard print jumpsuit stretched tight across her heaving chest, fussing over her friend with cropped lavender hair’s appearance, holding her up like they’re re-enacting Weekend at Bernie’s.

The bride-to-be pouts and makes a face, “who said I’m giving up anything? This whole bar is free game and according to Jo’s guide for the night, we still have ‘make out with a mustache’ to cross off.”

Snickering as you pass them, Leighanne linked her arm through your left as you make your way to stage, sipping the lukewarm beer in the barely clean glass, its hop tickling your throat with each travel in your mouth. Corroded Coffin has gone backstage and are waiting to be announced. The bar is flooded with people young and old. Reliving their glory days one sparse balding mullet at a time.

“I had no idea Eddie was in a band,” Leighanne whispered loudly into your ear, “he was in such a bad mood when I met him I didn’t really get to know him.”

The memory of Steve’s birthday still stung but the moments after and the day after that were still singing sweetly in your soul. “He’s come around quite a bit,” you explain.

“Yeah,” she agrees, “Steve told me about the two guys he fought at work, said they were mouthing off about you and he just snapped.”

“Nothing that wasn’t deserved,” “I—uh—I took care of it.” He says in a final explanation.

The bruises on his face, the broken ribs, his cracked and bleeding mouth. That was for you? He fought two guys off because of you?

Mind spinning on its own axis you can’t grasp why he would do that for you. Why he would get himself severely hurt just because some douchebags said some shit about you. It wasn’t worth it. Your eyebrows pull inward and your heart aches even more for Eddie. He was hands down the sweetest man you’ve ever come across. Putting himself in harm’s way just to prove a point. He could have lost his job, could have gotten even more hurt than what he was. It was stupid, reckless and dangerous— but somehow you couldn’t think of anything other than your heart hammering into your chest.

A booming voice fills the speakers and coaxes your attention to the center stage. “Please welcome, all the way from Forest Hills Trailer Park, our own, Corroded Coffin!”

Eddie and the boys trot on stage, Gareth takes his seat behind his drum set, followed by Jeff picking up his bass guitar and Big D picking up his instrument, you notice him winking towards a girl beside you, the blush on her pale cheeks could be seen from another planet.

Eddie is the last out, strutting forward with his runt red warlock guitar slung around his neck and a bullet belt hanging on his slender waist. His smile radiates across his face as he approaches the mic. He looks through the crowd with twinkly eyes and when he catches your stare front and center he winks and bends down, voice low as he speaks only to you— as if no one else is in the room but the pair of you. “Prettiest girl in the world made it all the way from Cherry Lane to come and see me huh?”

“Well since you practically begged,” you quip, heat warming your cheeks as his smile spreads wider.

“Wait for me after?” Eddie asks, eyes dripping deeply into yours, cartoon hearts floating from each blink of his lashes.

His stare could heat a kettle it burned into your soul and cozied up with your heart, softening it to a beautiful graying ash. Nodding and smiling like a fool in love you can’t form words when he shoots you a wink and stands in a swift, fluid motion, grabbing the microphone and shouting, “Hawkins! Are you ready to get this party started?!” The lights beat down on the band as they begin their set for the night.

Thrashing on his guitar, Eddie starts the tinny opening to Metallica’s Wherever I May Roam, followed by Gareth beating into his drums. Having watched them play this song many times in the garage it never ceases to amaze you how deep Eddie’s voice can get in the beginning of the song, his liquid sultry tone curls around your skin and holds you tight. The cords in his neck are profound jutting out in delectable delight. A feast for the wicked. His fingers move deftly along the fretboard as he sings and plays. Hair already slicked with sweat and hanging in a curly wet curtain of onyx down his back and stuck to his face. He’s never looked better. Hardly recognizing anyone around you, you're completely enamored like a moth to a flame by his appearance, his sex appeal on fire, licking up your skin’s gasoline, orange hues in a smoldering fire.

The song finishes and Eddie yells into the mic, “I’m Eddie, and we are Corroded Coffin, if you don’t like metal or the 80’s…”

The crowd chants as Eddie holds the mic out to them, “THEN GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Screams, whoops and hollers are bouncing off every surface of the dingy blackened bar. The beginning bells of For Whom The Bell Tolls chime and the crowd goes wild. When Big D rifts the beginning of Love Bites, Eddie takes a giant swig of Jack Daniels and your tongue aches to lap up the drops coursing down his stomach and finding solace in the waistband of his jeans.

Does he need a chaser? If so, you know the perfect antidote. Hungry like a wolf for him you can feel the soaked panties between your legs, the friction of your jeans give little relief where it’s needed.

The band plays a few more songs, and you are surprised that Eddie’s voice never falters or cracks during the entire nine minutes of Freebird, he nails the guitar solo and his sweltering smooth voice hits your core with each belting ache of the sad song. Steve holds Leighanne from behind and they sway together through the lyrics, he’s whispering into her ear and she’s fighting back tears. Robin and Vicky are slow dancing in a drunken stupor of smoke, completely in their own world.

The drunken girls from the bachelorette party are each making out with men double their age, the bride is getting a piggyback ride from a balding man you recognize to be wait what? Wayne Munson, reliving his glory days and having the time of his life as her white veil is worn around his head, cigarette hung limply from his thin lips. It’s safe to say the entire bar is drunk and having one of the best nights. The bartender has a line of party go-ers to do body shots from her cleavage. It’s hot and humid in the bar but Corroded Coffin doesn’t take any breaks, they keep playing and you can tell exhaustion is evident in Eddie’s face as he sings his heart out.

Eddie’s voice booms as he grabs the mic with a maniacal laugh, he looks down at you and points to you with an outstretched palm, “this next one is for the biggest brat, pain in my ass, absolutely the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever known, we haven’t played this song in years, but I know it’s her favorite.”

Jeff starts thumbing on his bass guitar with Gareth hitting the drums, immediately you know the song. You can’t believe he remembered. It was months ago when you had mentioned it to him, asking shyly if they still played it. Eddie starts singing the first verse,

There’s a place just south of Witches Valley

Where they say the wind won’t blow

And they only speak in whispers of her name

There’s a lady they say that feeds the darkness

It eats right from her hand

With a crying shout, she’ll search you out

And freeze you where you stand

Lady Evil, evil

She’s a magical mystical woman

Lady evil, evil on my mind

She’s the queen of the night

Tears well in your eyes and you can’t help them from falling. Grabbing the necklace he had placed so delicately on you yesterday you rub the tarnished steel between your fingers. It’s not even a sappy song, but the fact he remembered from all those years ago when you were just a bratty sister to his best friend and he was an asshole teenager, made your heart soar. You were in love with him. More than just a little crush, more than just a one night fling, you wanted him as yours— yours and yours alone.

The bar is full of screaming fans, girls with their tops off, throwing their bras at the band, but Eddie’s eyes never leave yours. His soul reaches yours and tells you without words the same thing you are thinking.

The rest of the concert you stand in one spot still staring up at the beautiful man in front of you, utterly intoxicated on him. The valleys of his neck as it vibrates and stretches with his vocal chords, the veiny thick hands as they strum his guitar, his wet hair that would look so delicious wrapped around your fingers. You yearned for him, carnally desired to have those hands wrapped hotly around your skin, between your legs, on your neck. Fuck.

-

The gig ends and the boys slip backstage. “Fuck man! I haven’t seen that many people at one of your gigs ever, where the hell is Gareth?” Big D asks, squeezing a can of spray cheese into his mouth.

“Oh you know him,” Jeff chides, downing a warm beer, “he’s bumping’ uglies with his main, probably locked in the men’s bathroom again.”

They all chuckle and Eddie hurries to grab his stuff, anxious to meet you up front and buy you a drink, maybe take you out for midnight pancakes at Benny’s. Looking as beautiful as ever tonight he had a hard time keeping the gig going, all he wanted to do was jump off stage and kiss you so deeply your bones would sing from his fervor, and now that it was over, he moved into the final phase of his plan, making you his.

“Ash is waiting’ on me, you still riding with us Big D or is Em gettin’ lucky tonight?

Big D wipes his cheese filled lips, “ah I might give her the ol’ pickle tickle, hey man,” he says gesturing to Eddie, “a whole song dedicated to the most gorgeous girl huh?”

Eddie doesn’t miss a beat, “am I wrong? Tooty not pretty enough for you?”

Big D holds his hands up in surrender, “damn dude that’s not what I was getting at— I’m— we are happy for you. Don’t let her get away.”

Eddie smiled sheepishly, “that’s the plan my man,” he says slinging his worn duffel bag over his shoulder, “that’s the plan, gotta go.”

He makes his way down a narrow hallway back to the bar when he’s stopped by the twins. Arms crossed and looks of vengeance on their painted lips.

“Ladies,” Eddie greets, head down and making to pass them, but the stand stone still, blocking his way.

“Daddy,” Cece answers, “that wasn’t very nice the way you treated us the last time we played.” her lips pursed in a pretty pout, a tight faux leather mini skirt exentuating her curves.

Carol purrs as she walks towards him, her hip gripping leather pants and a denim vest adorned with band pins pushes her chest up and nearly to her eyeballs, soft Farrah curls surrounding her face and sway down her back. Her finger curled under his chin, “I think you owe us… a favor.”

“Ooh yes,” Cece agrees, “a big favor,” her hand wraps around the soft length outside his jeans. Lips pressing into his sweaty neck.

“I’m gonna pass,” Eddie says firmly, avoiding Carol’s needy fingers in his hair, “but Gareth might be up for another round, give him about a half hour or so.”

Carol grabs Eddie by his crotch and walks him back into the wall, pinning his shoulders with her arms, her lips tantalizingly close to his neck. “A song dedicated to that bitch roommate of yours?” she seethes, “how pathetic.”

Cece speaks now, her words laced with venom long slicked back pony tail cascading down her back, “bet she can’t fuck like us, word around town is her pussy was trashed by Chad Cunningham.”

Eddie instantly feels a fire in his belly; he's ready to tell them both off, ready to get to you and take you out for a meal. But when he looks up he sees you standing at the end of the hallway, eyes wide and a hand over your mouth. He calls your name but you ignore him, throwing a middle finger over your shoulder and swallowing the lump in your throat as turn on your heel and stomp away, down the hallway and through the loud chattering of drunks in the bar, passed the stage that you finally felt like you were getting somewhere with Eddie, and out the door.

The wind had picked up, blowing snow all around the parking lot. A white wall of opaque blindness, you don't have a jacket but you know the general way on how to get home. Crossing your arms across your chest you put your head down and began to trudge through the parking lot.

Not being able to fathom what you saw, you are pissed that you’re jealous. Pissed that your rockstar roommate, who was known for being a ladies man and a player, pulled one over on you. Made you think he loved you just for him to be sucking face with the twins who were at your house all those months ago. Tears sting and practically freeze to your lashes as you stomp further and further away from the hideout, heart frozen and rigid once again.

With the wind blowing hard you didn’t hear the door being flung open frantically or the loud music being sung by the drunks from the jukebox. Eddie barely catches a glimpse of your black shirt and barrels through the deepening snow to get to you. “Tooty!”

A warm hand wraps around your arm and pulls you around to face him, your eyes are like steel knives into his as he stares into them pleading with you to understand. “You gonna walk the whole way home?”

“What the fuck do you care?” you shout, trying to wiggle your arm away from him, “you must think I’m really fucking stupid huh?”

Eddie is perplexed, face twisted in confusion, “what the hell are y— Jesus Christ it’s freezing out here, let me take you home. We can argue and fight all you want without getting hypothermia.”

“No! I’m not going anywhere with you!” you cry, trying to shove him away but nearly falling in the snow. You didn’t want to be in his presence ever again. He hurt you, he made you feel like you were special, turns out you're just as common as a penny on the sidewalk, not even face up for luck.

“Tooty,” Eddie barks, voice angry, sharp and full of pain, “if I have to drag you by your goddamn hair into the van I will. I have no problem doing that. Let’s. Go.”

Shoulder checking him on your spin back through the parking lot, you stomp through the thick snow and climb into the passenger seat, shivering and pouting.

Eddie is close behind you, hands raw and red from the elements, trembling as he reaches for the knob to blast the heat. He doesn’t say anything as he pulls out of the parking lot, only looks your way to try and read your face, your peripherals catch him more than once— but you won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing your tears.

The ride home is full of slippery snow packed roads, at the stop sign before turning onto Cherry, Eddie looks your way, “are you mad at me?”

Are you mad at me? What a stupid fucking question.

“No Eddie I’m over the moon, jumping for joy, mother fucking delighted to see you with not one girl but two— groping you ready to feast on you like a snack.”

Eddie shakes his head, not wanting to argue but seeing no other way through it. “That’s all you saw huh? And where were my hands Tooty? Was I touching them?”

You think hard, unable to to process or give a shit what he was talking about. “I was too distracted to see what you were doing, sorry for leaving so soon and disrupting your rockstar ego in the act— I’m sure you’re into other people watching you fuck.”

Eddie lets out a taunting laugh that is anything but trying to be funny. He’s flabbergasted by how mean you’re being, 100% only seeing what you wanted to.

“You are seriously talking out of your ass right now, ya know that right?” Eddie sneers, pulling into the driveway, he’s hurt and like an animal, he’s lashing out, defending his pride, “Why do you even care if I am, which for the record— I’m not, with someone else? We aren’t dating, you’re not my girlfriend.”

The poisonous words sting worse than the first fight with him ever has. Not giving him a chance to explain, you throw open the door, not slamming it but leaving it wide open and stomp inside. Kicking off your boots you hear two doors slam and Eddie’s boots stomping behind you.

“Fuck!” Eddie shouts, “do you ever finish a conversa—”

“Fuck you! You wanna be some rockstar prick with his dick in anything that walks? Be my guest— but keep me out of it!” Turning to your bedroom, Eddie jumps over the couch to block your path, arms stretched across the door frame.

“We,” Eddie yells again, “are going to talk about this, stop running away from me!”

“No,” you chastise, “we aren’t!”

Eddie hears you but presses on, “why are you mad at me because you think you saw me kissing or touching those other girls?”

“Uhh,” you groan, defeated, “leave me alone.”

“Tell me,” he continues.

“No.” You announce crossing your arms.

“Tooty, Jesus Chr— tell me,” he’s losing his calm, agitated by your bratty attitude and refusal to talk to him.

Fidgeting and stamping your foot you don’t want to give in to him, can’t tell him why you’re so upset. How embarrassing to tell someone you’re jealous.

“Eddie— get the fuck out of my way.”

“Tell me why and I will, be a big girl, use your words,” his venomous teasing only fuels your fire.

“Jesus Christ you incessant fucking gnat! Get out of the way!”

Eddie presses forward, inching towards you, making you draw away from him, “are you jealous, Tooty?”

The word makes your cheeks heat, admission written all over your face as he keeps pressing into you further, your back is at the wall and his arms box you in, face inches from yours. “Did seeing me with someone else make you mad?”

Grumbling his name you try to push away from him but he is persistent. “Tell me I’m not crazy, baby.” His whispered tone seeps through your skin, flooding your panties even more, your heart screaming with each beat, mind inching you impossibly closer to him.

“Tell me you want this just as much as I do,” his hooded eyes, pour into yours, licked lips wet with spit.

Toes in the water, it’s surprisingly warm despite the frigid cold of the weather outside, but he’s been keeping you warm now for months.

Hands on his chest you finger the holes in the neck of his shirt. His cold wet hair tickling your hands as you yank him closer to you, practically bumping noses, “you’re not crazy, but I will be if you don’t kiss me.”

Hesitation long forgotten, the smooth silk of your lips are hugged tight against Eddie’s pinked and chapped ones. Floating higher to the galaxy he swore he would take you to, tank full of gas, dancing you around in his arms on Saturn’s rings, diving head first into Jupiter’s springs.

Blissfully euphoric is the language of your spilled lust infused love.

-

for readmore 🦋

[octuscle]

My professor is such a pain in the ass! I tried turning him into an average dumb college frat guy, but it’s not working!

Whew! Indeed, your professor is a tough nut to crack. He's as stiff as if he'd swallowed a stick. On time like a Swiss watch. And the strictest teacher imaginable. I'll see what I can do. Time is pressing, it's Friday and the exam period starts on Monday.

07:30. Your professor's shiny Volvo rolls into the faculty parking lot. He's always on time to the second. His suit may be cheap, but it's immaculate. And he walks into the staff room with his hair perfectly parted. No one notices the small tattoo on his forearm.

When he arrives at your lecture, it's like a sensation: he's not wearing polished Oxfords, he's wearing sneakers. Pretty cool, pretty expensive sneakers. And WHITE socks! He's never been seen wearing anything like that before. And you swear his stomach is flatter. Normally his jacket always conceals a tummy bulge. But now his silhouette is perfectly slim. Unfortunately, it doesn't change anything about his lecture. He's way too fast, firing his questions like a sniper in the direction of the students who weren't paying attention. He's a pain in the ass, and that hasn't changed yet.

During the lunch break, the professor is seen wearing jeans for the first time. Pretty crisp fitting jeans. He really has a tight ass. And damn: Does he actually have a beard shadow? Normally he's always perfectly shaved. You're sitting in the canteen with your bruhs when he approaches you and asks "All gud, bruhs? can one of you give me uh fag? I must have forgotten mine at home…" You are far too surprised not to give him a cigarette. "You're such uh lifesaver, dude," says your professor and asks what you're up to this weekend. You tell him about your plans to go to the sports bar, work out in the gym and maybe take a trip to the beach on Sunday. "Sick thing" replies the professor. "See you around, bruhs!" He leaves you with your mouths hanging open.

The professor leaves the parking lot in his open-top Mustang with loud hip-hop music and screeching tires. You grin broadly. Your plan seems to be working. You are sure of it when you meet the next day at the gym. Your professor has a cool haircut, a stylish beard and looks like he's a regular at the tattoo parlor. You greet each other with a fist bump. And when he takes off his sweaty T-shirt after two hours, you say goodbye with a chest bump. Damn, this guy has a killer body.

On the beach, your prof disappears from time to time with random people and goes to the trunk of his Mustang. Shit, he's selling drugs. Hashish or apparently steroids and other stuff. And at sunset you see him lying on his towel smoking pot while one of the musclemen from the gym massages his nipples. Fuck, the boner in his surfer shorts is impressive. You're very pleased with yourself. You don't need to be afraid of tomorrow. It's a good thing you didn't waste the weekend studying.

Hot picture, you think to yourself on Monday morning when you see your professor's latest post on Instagram. And then you read the caption: "Sicc training 2 start the new wk. Now let's go kicc sum student ass. I luv it when i c the airheads sweating over my exam questions"

Pic found @marechais

[elryuse]

IMPREGNATING MY ROOMATE

SOHEE X MALE READER

TAGS : Noona, Naughty, Roomate, Dirty talk, Impregnation, Creampie

You were just working on some of your unfinished projects before finally finishing it just right about the deadline. Being a college student is not an easy task, just like what you think it would be. In reality it's fucking tiring.

But there is always someone who would brighten up your day. She is none other than your doorstep roomate named Sohee. Even though she is older than you, you always felt like your chemistry with her is just amazing. She always cared for you, and maybe that's why you always think of her as an older sister figure.

But lately, You started to feel something that you can't understand. Something more than just an older sister figure type of love. Not to mention the way she started to dress nowadays is getting more and more revealing than usual. But knowing that you don't want to ruin this beautiful relationship, you tried to keep it away for now.

Finally you went back to your room after finishing the torture amount of work. But what you didn't expect was Sohee standing in the kitchen cooking some delicious food. She was wearing a tight and small grey colored Calvin Klein Crop Top. With some tight training pants as well. It perfectly fits her petite body and she just looks gorgeous tonight.

"Y/n....come on... I made some 김치 찌개 (Kimchi Jigae) ".

"Wahh daebak... Thank you so much Sohee Noona".

" *chukle* Of course... Come sit here... I'll get the Rice ready".

You were totally not expecting this tonight. Sohee would usually buy some delivery food instead. Not to mention her drinking habits as well. I mean last night, she'll get 2 boxes of fried chicken and a whole box of beer. You'll probably think that she'll never finish all of them. But boy you're wrong. And what's left from that was a drunken Sohee.

"I made this because you already helped me a lot last night.... I was so fricking drunk... :cc".

"Aww that's okay Noona.. This is too much.. But thank youu".

" *chukle* No I really mean it. I always loved your company Y/n... It means a lot to me.. Having someone like you".

"T-thanks Noona".

"Well go on then Enjoy the food".

"Alright then... 잘 먹었습니다 (Thanks for the meal) Noona".

"So how is it? Is it much to your liking"?

"Noona.. This is so fucking good. If some guy decided to marry you... I bet he'll get to eat this delicious meal every day".

" *chukle* Aww that's sweet... But what if that guy is you"?

Hearing that statement you immediately spat out some of your drinks in your mouth. Earning a huge laugh from Sohee.

"Noonaa you can't joke around like that".

"Ahahhaha it's just funny Seeing you like that".

"Ughhh fine fine... But look.. The floor is wett 😭".

"Just like me".

"Eh"??

Sohee immediately laught it off, saying it was nothing. But deep down... You kinda feel something was off. Not to mention the way her legs are slowly rubbing your own leg underneath the dining table.

"Don't you want to have a girlfriend Y/n"?

"W-well.. I-i do... It's just.. ".

"Just what"?

"I haven't really found someone that is interested in me".

"Aww that's sad.. What a poor baby :c *pout* ".

"Noona stop doing that".

"Stop doing what? You don't like it"?

"N-no.. It's not that... But".

"But what"?

Sohee immediately stood up from her chair. Before walking slowly towards you. Her eyes were filled with lust and glimmer of hope. She then wrapped her hand all over your broad shoulders before quietly and carefully whispered something on your ear.

"I want to fuck you so bad Y/n... And I know you want to do the same. So why don't we make love... ".

"N-noona"??

" *chukle* Come on now... I'll be gentle on you... Noona will take care of you so don't you worry ".

" *gulp* O-okay".

"Really.. You'll do it with me"?

"Y-yes.. I-i love you a lot Noona. I'm just scared of actually telling you about my feelings. I'm scared that you might reject me and we'll be like strangers. I-i don't want that".

"Awww my poor baby... I'm sorry to make you think like that... But don't worry. I'll give you a proper reward for being a good boy... Come here and lay with me on the bed".

With a swift motion her strong arms immediately took you away. She embraced you in a tight hug before smiling at you. She then carried you to the large room before laying down on the soft and squishy bed.

"Don't just stare at me dummy... *chukle* Fuck me".

" *gulp* ".

Hearing that, Your cock immediately started to grow bigger and bigger. As if Sohee have given you a magic spell that instantly makes you Fucking horny. She then helps you remove a piece of your clothes and your pants. She gasped and admired how big your cock was. Sohee smiles before she starts to remove her own piece of clothing.

She started by removing her tight training pants, revealing a white and silky smooth thighs. She can't help but to giggle to your reaction. Piece by piece was removed making her crop top the only thing hanging around. But before she removes that, she asks you a question.

"So if we finally do this. Would you be interested to be mine Y/n"?

"Is that even a question Noona? The answer is definitely Yes.. I've loved you all this time. You've been so good to me... And I-i just can't find another girl that is like you.. ".

"Mmmhm.. Hearing that makes me really really happy.. And because of that.. I'm gonna reward you with something special".

Sohee finally released the tension that is holding her big mounts. The last piece of clothing is finally removed. Her big and perky breasts are what's left. She shyly closed her face before laughing about how awkward this situation is. But you returned the favour by kissing her on the lips. Which suprises her at first. But after a few seconds she finally understood and started to kiss you back.

The kiss was so hot and so sexy. Sohee was very skilled compared to your own. The way she sucked your tounge and started to play with the roof of your mouth was undeniably hot. Not long after that you finally released from the kiss, Earning a small gasp and moan from Sohee.

"More.. Kiss me more.. Baby".

"I will Noona... But I want to do something else".

"Mhmm.. And what would you want"?

You immediately grab her perky breast before admiring them, grasping them as if your life depends on it. After playing around with her breast, you decided that her tits were looking so delicious. So without any hesitation you immediately suck it. Sohee immediately moans.

"Fuck... Aghh.. Mmm".

"Mhmm".

"Don't stop baby... Don't stop... Aghh".

You continue sucking her tits while she playfully gen on top of your crotch before she starts to ride you slowly. The pleasure was immaculate and all you want to do from that point is to do this every fucking day.. All you want to do is to hear her moan after moan.

You finally stop sucking cause now your cock could barely hold it any longer. Sohee knows this and immediately puts your cock inside her warm and wet mouth. The immediate pressure was strong as if your cock was being vacuumed. She gives you a deepthroat and starts to make sensual sounds while looking at you with so much lust.

She smiles before finally releasing your cock from her wet mouth. Using this to her advantage, She immediately prepared herself to put your cock deep inside her pussy. Slowly but surely the length started to shorten inch by inch before finally the whole thing was inside.

"FUCKKKKK AHHHH... SHIT.. IT'S SO DEEPP MHMM".

"N-noona aghh.. You're so tight".

"Mhmmm *moan* I know.. This pussy has been waiting for so long...".

"Fuck fuck fuckkk".

" *moans* Fuck me harder baby... Fuck me like you want to breed me... Fill me up baby.. Breed this Woman of yours".

"Fuck fuck *moans* ".

You immediately did what she asked and started thrusting as hard as you can. You both were screaming in pleasure as the sound of two meat started to clap, indicating a perfect harmony between your bodies. Sohee moans were filling your ears, Immediately enchanting you to immediately give her what she wants. And that is to be your woman and to be pregnant with your baby batter.

After you were about to cum, You immediately told her that you're close. She tells you the same, And before you can cum inside her. Her legs were locking you in a missionary position, to ensure that the insemination rate would be higher.

"I'm close Noona... Fuck... I'm gonna cum".

"Inside me... Cum inside me... I want it.. I want to be pregnant.. I want to be your Woman".

"Fuck fuck fuck".

And just like that ribbon after ribbons of cum were shot deep inside her womb. Your seed immediately found ways to inseminate her eggs as both you and sohee fall to a tight embrace kissing and enjoying the rest of your life together.

You were bleesed with 2 Children. One boy and One girl. Sohee was so happy after hearing the news that she was pregnant, She can't imagine that her long last dreams were coming true and that she is now married to her beloved Y/n.

~ The End ~

[buckysgrace]

Hi. You’re amazing!

Do you ever write fluff? Like if you found out you were pregnant with Billy’s baby and at first he’s upset and doesn’t want anything to do with you but after you have the baby ( a little boy with blonde curls like Billy) he gets all emotional and wants to desperately be a better father than his dad was to him 😭

Hello! Thank you so much <3 I absolutely will write fluff!

CW: Mentions of abortion, mentions of child abuse, lots of Billy being scared and a lil mean.

Billy's son is also referenced as having blonde curls and his nose, but the rest is ambiguous!

He was scared.

Billy honestly didn't know what he was going to do. There had been many arguments with you about it, but you seemed fairly determined. You were going to have this baby, whether he wanted to be a part of the baby's life or not.

It wasn't necessarily that he didn't want to be involved, but he could feel a crushing fear spreading through him every time he thought about being a dad.

His relationship with his own dad was strained. Things weren’t the best between them. He never really had a positive father figure, someone that showed him how to stay calm even when he was frustrated. The last thing he wanted was to end up snapping at his own child.

He couldn’t be a dad.

“Not mine,” He said once you showed up with the ultrasound, the bloodwork and everything. Denial was all he could think about, all he could process. He couldn’t fuck up your life and this child’s life if he wasn’t involved. It was that simple, “I didn’t knock you up.” 

“Uh huh,” Was your dry answer, your eyes looking less than amused, “Do you want a paternity test then, William?” Came your snarky response, because you both knew the truth. This baby was his, there was no doubt in Billy’s mind about that. And it terrified him. 

“Don’t call me that.” He said as he pushed his hair off of his forehead, feeling sick as it continued to wash over him. He was going to be a dad. He was going to end up just like Neil. 

“Then don’t act like you weren’t a part of this.” You said, looking just as fearful as what he felt. He sat down on the edge of his bed, tapping his foot rapidly as he thought about how good a smoke sounded right now. He’d need a lot more to make him relax. 

“It’s still early, right?” He questioned at last, turning his attention back to you. He watched the way your eyebrows furrowed tightly together and then relaxed again. Your eyes softened, telling him what he already knew. 

“I’m not getting an abortion,” You said at last, “I’ve made up my mind. You can make your decision, but I’m not letting you walk in and out of our lives whenever you see fit. You can be a part of this baby's life or we can end this. Whatever you prefer.” You were gentle with him, setting out the options softly like you always did. You understood him better than anyone else, made him feel safe. It made him sick to think about how he was hurting the one person he really cared about. 

“Can I think about it?” He asked at last, feeling like there wasn’t anything else to do. He didn’t have an answer yet and he didn’t want to end up saying the wrong thing. He was growing angry at himself. He could only imagine what Neil would say once he found out. 

“Yeah,” You replied gently, eyes softening as you nodded your head, “But I can’t wait forever. I need to know your answer soon.” Your voice slightly wavered but he looked away, not wanting to see you so upset. 

“Yeah,” He responded as he nodded his head and placed his fingers tightly together, “I’ll let you know.” He said at last, staying put until you left. Everything was falling apart, breaking down around him. He couldn’t deal with it right now. 

Ignoring you was harder than he’d thought it would be. He looked for you everywhere he went, even though he knew he couldn’t have you. That was his own fault regardless. He’d made up his mind. It would be easier this way.

Yet, when the invitation for your baby shower arrived in his mail he felt his walls caving in. They crashed into him, making him break down as he stared at your handwritten notes on the card. He could tell just by reading it that you were excited, not afraid. He wished he could be more like you. 

In the end, he decided to go. He needed closure, as he was sure you needed to. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to stand living in the same town as you, knowing that his child would never know him. Somehow, that made him feel even worse.

He felt lonely as the months drew on. He had no one to confide in for his problems; especially Neil and Susan. He didn’t know what to say when they questioned about your disappearance and he felt even more at a loss when they asked him if you were pregnant. A shrug of his shoulders was his answer. He really didn’t know. 

The walk up towards the little gymnasium felt odd, like he didn’t quite belong as he stared at the little balloons and elephant decorations that were spotted throughout the room. There were familiar faces; your friends and family. Some other people that weren’t quite as well known. He still felt awkward, like everyone knew that he was the one who had knocked you up and ran. 

“Hey,” You drew out as you approached him, your palm flat against the bump in front of you, “I didn’t think you’d be here.” You said slowly, literally glowing as you stood in front of him. You had a sundress on, your cheeks were warm and forehead a little sweaty. He wondered if it was from the baby. 

“I didn’t think I’d come either.” He admitted at last, hating how horrible that sounded. He just felt like he was in a rut, buried deep inside of a hole with no real way of coming out. You were like sunshine through the dirt, warming his skin as he watched you. 

“What does this mean?” You asked him at last, tilting your head as your eyes softened over his features. He wished that he had a real answer for you, to tell you how he felt. He was in love with you; deeply. He just didn’t want to hurt you either. It was complicated. 

“I really don’t know yet,” He mumbled, “It just felt right.” He decided on, unable to tell you just how much he missed you. He was nearly desperate enough to fall to his knees and beg for your forgiveness. He would if you pushed him hard enough. 

“Billy,” You drew out in exasperation, “I can’t have you doing this, being so wishy-washy. What do you want?” You asked him seriously, looking like you were close to cracking too. He wanted to reach out and touch you, to hold you. He needed to apologize. 

“I just want to be better,” He replied slowly, “I want to be here. For you and for-,” He stalled for a moment as he looked down at your baby bump, feeling like he was at a loss once again. He wasn’t sure if you wanted him in his life or not. 

“Him,” You said quickly, “We’re having a little boy.” Your eyes were glazed over in tears, your lips pulling into the tightest smile. You were clearly emotional, making him feel awful as he reached his hand forward. Your fingers met slowly, molding against one another. He felt sparks traveling up his arms, leaving him resentful of the past few months he’d wasted. 

“That’s-, that’s good,” He answered after he cleared his throat. He was already scared to be a dad, but to have a son? He feared that even more. He was sure he was following directly into Neil’s shows, “Have you decided on a name?”

“I kind of like Cash,” You stated as you rubbed at your belly, “Just feels right. C’mon, you can open the presents with me.” You explained as you tugged him along, leaving him a little jittery. He thought about pulling out a cigarette, but figured it wasn’t the right place to do it.

He felt a little lost but slowly grew more and more keen on what was happening. It was still a lot to process, but it felt right being there by your side. You were clearly excited despite everything that had happened. He was grateful that you were so open, that you didn’t hold a grudge against him.

“Where are you living at?” He asked instead, curious as to whether your living situation had changed or not. You were still living at home the last time he checked. He was slightly nervous, wondering if someone else had slipped into his spot. 

“Still with my parents,” You admitted as you shrugged your shoulders, “They were upset, but they’ve come around.” Your lips were pulled into a smile, looking less than worried. Apparently things had been fairly well for you.

“They probably hate me.” He said a moment later, sure that it was true. He couldn’t see how they wouldn’t. He had practically left you. You snapped your eyes up towards him. 

“Hate is a strong word,” You told him quickly, “But yeah, they’re not the happiest. Especially dad.” You explained slowly as you continued to rub at your baby bump. 

“Great,” He mumbled as he placed his hands in his pockets, “I’m really sorry.” He breathed out slowly, knowing his apology was more important than everything else. He meant it too. He shouldn’t have pushed you away. 

“You just disappeared,” You started slowly, “I thought you were gone.” Your voice was soft, full of hurt and distress. He felt his throat tightening, burning as he thought about how much he missed you. He was a fool to ever stray away from you, to leave you on your own. 

“I thought about it,” He told you honestly, knowing there was no point in lying, “I don’t want to be like my dad.” He replied at last, getting down to the root of the issue. He didn’t want to accidentally lash out at you or at your future child. He never wanted that for him. It would be better to be alone. 

“You won’t,” You told him quickly, sternly as he exhaled deeply, “You’re not like your dad. I promise you.” You cupped his face softly, your hands smooth and gentle against his skin. He leaned against you, craving the feeling. 

“What if I lose control?” He asked at last as he drew his eyes over your features, taking in the way you were watching him. You sighed deeply as you rubbed your fingers across his skin. You looked deep in thought as you pressed your nails gently against his stubble. 

“You never did that at your swimming classes,” You reminded him, “You should come stay with me. Move in. It would be good for our baby.” You moved your hands to his neck, then to his shoulder and down to his hands. You gripped them slowly, pressing them against your growing tummy.

He stalled for the longest time, blinking slowly as he felt like the world was freezing around him. Underneath your skin he could feel your baby moving. He gulped, eyes wide as he felt the smallest smile curling against his lips. He exhaled deeply as he looked towards you again. 

“I don’t know.” He replied nervously as he felt his heart hammering roughly inside of his chest. He chewed on his bottom lip, thinking that it would be easier. He’d be closer for you, for the baby. If he was really going to do this, he needed to be near you. 

“You don’t have to marry me or anything,” You started, “Or be with me if that’s what you want.” You said sheepishly, looking embarrassed as you quickly looked away. He felt his heart shatter a bit again, worried that he had truly hurt you. 

“You have someone else?” He asked at last, worried that you had moved on. He had done wrong, but he really did love you. You were the only one he was passionate about. He wasn’t sure how to move on if you had found someone else. 

“No,” You responded with a smile, “But I just want you to be happy. Even if it’s not with us.” You nodded your head, but looked like that was hard to admit. He didn’t want you to be alone. Not anymore. 

“You make me happy,” He said at last, “We’ll work this out. I promise.” He said as he brought your hand up to his lips, savoring the feeling of your skin against his mouth. He closed his eyes, feeling very regretful. He wouldn’t lose you again. 

When he returned home he felt odd, but not like he had in the past few months. He didn’t drink away his feelings, or drown his anger out with music. Instead, he worked on packing. He wasn’t going to be like Neil; not at all. He was going to be there for you. He was going to be there for his son. No matter how scared he was. He couldn’t let either of you down. 

“Where are you going?” Neil’s voice made him jump, surprising him as he paused with the article of clothing in his hands. He turned slowly, looking at the way Neil was leaning against the door frame. He had his hands crossed tightly over his chest, his eyebrows furrowed together tightly. His features were stoic, like he was deciding whether he should be angry or not. 

“I’m moving out,” He said as he turned away, shoving the clothes back into his bag, “I uh, found a place.” Billy replied slowly as he finished zipping up his bag. He wondered how much he’d really be able to take with him. Probably not much if his dad got angry. 

“You moving in with that bitch?” Neil tilted his head up as he spoke, like he was trying to make himself taller. His eyes were sharp, cold as his gaze cut into Billy. He felt sick as he gulped harshly, trying to keep his tone at bay. 

“Don’t call her that.” Billy responded hotly, feeling defensive of you. You weren’t anything like that and you were letting him back into your life; just like that. You were everything and more to him and he wasn’t going to let Neil speak ill of you. 

“Is the kid yours or some little bastard?” His lip curled up in disgust as he spoke, his features filling with disappointment. Billy didn’t care. He was going to be happy with you. He wouldn’t be like Neil. Not ever. 

“Mine,” He said roughly, “And don’t you ever call him that.” He snatched up his bag, taking his few items with him as he moved forward. Neil scoffed as he shook his head, irritated as Billy pushed forward.

“She’s going to ruin your life,” He grumbled as he gripped Billy’s shoulder, holding him in place for a moment, “And don’t even think about crawling back. I won’t have you.” He said threateningly, like he might change Billy’s mind.

“I won’t come back.” Billy promised, stern with his answer as he walked past him. He wouldn’t let his son suffer the same way he had. They both deserved better than this. 

The rest of the months passed breezily, making him come to terms a little easier as your due date approached. He had done a lot of ass kissing, pleading and groveling until he got back on your good side. He brought you flowers every day, rubbed your feet after work and gave you plenty of kisses.

You complained about how you looked as the final weeks approached, but he thought that you looked beautiful. Stunning. In his opinion, you were glowing. He loved rubbing your tummy too, feeling like he got a deeper connection that way.

Your labor was messy, a little chaotic. Billy was terrified something would go wrong, but stayed close to you regardless. By the end of it, his hand was numb and his wrist aching from how tightly he’d been gripping you.

“Look at him,” You breathed out as you held the little boy in your arms, “He’s so cute.” You sniffled, looking like you were seconds away from breaking down again.

He stared and stared, memorizing his son's features as he came to terms that he was a father. He had a little boy, someone to take care of. He looked so fragile, so tiny. It made him nervous. He was fearful that he’d accidentally hurt him by holding him wrong, or by dropping him. He wasn’t sure how his rough hands were supposed to hold something so soft. 

"Billy," You breathed out quietly, making his throat grow raw as he stared down at the little boy. Soft blonde curls and the same sloped nose he had. Everything else about the little boy reminded him of you, "Are you crying?" You asked gently, making him feel even more emotional as he shook his head. 

“No,” He said hoarsely, doing everything in his power to keep from breaking down, “S’just a lot.” He mumbled as he wiped at his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose as he tried to calm himself down. His hands were shaking, his heart thumping roughly inside of his chest. 

“I know,” You replied softly as you sat up a bit, gesturing the bundle in your arms towards him, “C’mon. You’ll feel better.” You reassured him, but he still felt hesitant. He pressed his fingertips together before he nodded, accepting the little baby from you.

Names hadn’t quite been figured out yet, but that didn’t matter at the moment. He looked healthy, his cheeks full and fists clenched together as he stretched his arms out. Billy felt a small chuckle leave his neck, fighting over the sob that was threatening to burst free.

He suddenly couldn’t remember why he had been so nervous, or scared. As his son curled against his arms it felt natural, like he already knew what he was doing. He savored the warmth, the way the little baby cooed as he adjusted him in his arms. Everything felt right suddenly.

“I won’t let anything bad ever happen to you,” He promised as he kissed his little head, sighing deeply as he snuggled his little son towards him, “Not ever. I promise.” 

[luvindrr]

Kenma is harassed into getting his nails done

kenma kozume x fem!reader | fluff | 773 words c/w: skinny shaming (briefly, once)

It’s a weird building, Kenma thinks, as he pulls into the parking lot. Enormous arched glass on a too-pink wall. It hurts his eyes. The entire street does; it’s all so Barbie-like.

He finds the inside is just as pink when he enters. “Time of appointment?”

“Uh, no, I’m just here for my girlfriend.” Where are you? It smells like alcohol in here. Maybe he should just text-

“Kenma!” His eyes whip towards you, as every other set of eyes whip towards him.

“Your boyfriend?” “He’s very pretty.”

“Very pretty.”

“Like a girl.”

Kenma feels himself go rigid. It feels like a family dinner, where every aunt is scrutinizing his long blonde hair. He points backwards with his thumb. “I’ll just uh- wait outside.” Fuck. Why is he so awkward? This is pathetic.

“You sure? I think I’ll be here for another half hour-”

“PICK A COLOUR! PICK A COLOUR!” Cardstock flurries in his face, and he instinctively stumbles backwards. The sheets are shoved into his arms- some land on the floor- and pushy hands are now ushering him into a chair. “Uh, no, actually, I’m just here for my girl-” He’s shoved into a seat- a very plushy one- before it rams into a table, lurching him forwards slightly. He whips up. Are middle-aged women supposed to be this intimidating?

“I’m- uh, I’ll just-”

“Pick a colour.” The sheer intensity of her glare shuts him up.

Fuck, are you laughing?

“Pick a colour, Kenma!” He whips around, affronted. “We can be matching!”

Kenma looks down at your nails-in-progress. Stickered. Sparkly. Kuroo would never let him live it down. “I don’t think I want that.” You smirk, and he knows you know exactly what he’s thinking.

“You have a My Melody keychain.”

He looks down at his hands, still holding his keys. They certainly are adorned with an obnoxious My Melody plush. You won it at an arcade, but couldn’t fit it on your own keys.

“Oh! You should get Pompompurin. He’s yellow, like you.”

“COLOUR!” He snaps back to the woman in front of him, somehow more irritated and somehow more frightening. He cowers. “PICK A COLOUR!”

Is this normal treatment? Is he paying for you to get your nails done or to be harassed and accosted? Because if this is normal he’s not sure he wants you coming to this place anymore-

“Kenma.” Your familiar scent drifts over him, releasing the tension he didn’t know was there. “You can get something simple. What about this?” You pull out a picture on your phone, but he doesn’t really see it, not when he's resting his head on you behind him. “Whatever you think.” Is that a mistake? Will he regret that later?

Thankfully, he doesn’t see the usual devilish smirk on your face, which surely means you’ve taken pity on him. He stares daggers as you walk away, willing you to come back. Why are you ditching him at the boss level? You’re supposed to be a team; this is supposed to be a two-player game.

“Your hands are pretty! Long fingers!”

“Good nail shape. Very healthy.”

“Too soft. You don’t work?”

When did the crowd spawn? And how the fuck did he get roped into this?

—

The next half hour is a blur. Somehow, he weathered the scrutiny of the mob (“too skinny”, “why blonde?”), paid some ungodly sum, and escaped that Barbie dollhouse hell. Fuck. It’s getting dark. He was going to treat you to boba but the shops are closing so he can’t do that. The shops wouldn’t be closed if your appointment wasn’t pushed back- and your appointment wouldn’t have been pushed if that one rude customer hadn’t been late. What’s up with late people anyway? Fuck them. This is why he became a streamer- so he doesn’t have to deal with people. Now he has to drive in the dark- he hates driving in the dark- he’d fucking die if he crashed the car and you flung out the windshield and paralyzed yourself. He’s not going to be responsible for making his girlfriend a paraplegic-

“Kenma. Your face is weird again.”

He’s never treating you to boba again-

“C’mere; I want a picture.” Kenma lets you manipulate his hand into frame, holding yours when you let him. They’re pretty, your nails. They always are, but this time they’re sparkly, catching the light at every turn. His aren’t bad, either. A simple four-point star in the corner of each. And a Pompompurin sticker on one. It’s cute, actually. They’re nice.

“Okay, let’s go.”

He looks back up to the sun. Probably not too late for boba after all.

masterlist

[kalimarinu]

offerings from the unnamed.

[ summary : a mystery person is leaving gifts for 141? ]

[ relationships : tf141 x gn!reader (platonic) ]

[ warnings : 3rd person & 2nd-ish pov , gn reader 🤍 , use of y/n (your name) & c/n (codename/callsign) , unedited & not proofread , i know nothing about the military once again ]

[ word count : 2,392 ]

[ notes : back after another long while , yeah!!! this was fun <3 i can't believe this is 2k words what ?!@?!>@/ that's longer than my previous fic & this was just like a spitball idk..., also the 141 might just have memory loss why is everyone forgetting everything!! (y'all idk why i got so into it w gaz and price's section like why is it so long and soap and ghost's are so short???. but more the merrier, right...?) ]

John Price:

he was pretty surprised at first, he did not expect to see a bouquet of roses on his desk. though, he doesn't question it? 

—until he walks up closer to examine the flowers, just to see a little tag with a note on it that reads: 'for my favorite captain. -a/n.'

now he's a little confused. could it be one of his sergeants? his lieutenant? hell, it could be so many other people.

the only hint is the handwriting. he swears he can recognize it. 

but suddenly price reminds himself he actually has work, so never mind the flowers, for now, he needs to get back to doing his paperwork and such. 

as he works away and whatnot, the thought of the roses is lingering in the back of his mind and slowly creeping up to the front, and he can't seem to ignore the questions.

"why roses?" "whose handwriting is that? i swear i know it." "for me? why not anybody else?"

he's utterly perplexed at this point, so he quickly finishes up whatever he needs to do and turns to the bouquet he left sitting on the other side of the desk long ago.

after many, many minutes of just trying to grasp the mysterious person whose handwriting looks the same as on the tag, he gives up.

gives up on trying to figure out this anonymous roses bullshit by himself, anyway. the captain goes to his two closest buddies, unsurprisingly nikolai and laswell.

he questions them, he tells them everything. to the point he walked through the door and saw the bouquet and to the point where he was now asking them for 'help'. but it just ends up being just a lot more questions and inevitably no answers.

he goes to his lieutenant. his two sergeants. nothing.

now he gives up fully. nobody knows anything about this or who it might be. not him, his best friends, or his own task force.

time passes quickly until it's the end of the day (and he's surprised he's almost spent hours trying to figure this puzzling gift out), and he's trying to come to terms with this.

'it's intended to be anonymous, he shouldn't be trying to figure this out, and he shouldn't lose sleep over this.' is what he tells himself when he gets back to his barracks.

he looks down at the mysterious bouquet in his hand that never had left him alone since he'd come across it, like a fungus that had grown on a damp and and won't let go, and he lets out a sigh.

but john supposes he doesn't mind keeping it. if it really is someone he's friends with (which he's sure), he shouldn't just throw it away. he'll keep it.

which is what he does. preparing and cleaning a random glass jar big enough to fit the flowers, found somewhere around his barracks. it's now put to better use instead of just collecting dust, now filled up with water, the stems of the roses inside.

he sets it on the nightstand next to his bed, and for some reason the room feels a little more homey. oh and don't forget the tag, which he sets next to the jar of blossoms, just in case he does remember who's handwriting that is, he'll be 100% sure who it is and won't be doubting himself if he checks it.

he has come to terms with it now. he's comfortable in bed and he won't be asking himself or anyone else questions that'll lead to nothing. he's sure the one who gave him the bouquet will reveal themselves soon enough. like he told himself, 'he won't lose sleep over this.'

and he is about to drift off into sleep— until suddenly he remembers, and he jolts, sitting up.

he turns his head to look at the roses as his brain is overwhelmed with inquiry. price knows who it is. it's c/n. it's y/n. and now he just has more questions, some the same as previous ones but with the added confusion that it's you that got the flowers for him.

he is going to lose sleep over this after all.

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish:

when soap first heard about the captain's situation, he thought it was hilarious. he got roses from an unknown individual? that's silly. he almost even started laughing seeing price so frustrated and baffled over a bouquet of plants.

though, after he said he didn't know anything about any flowers and price walked away in disappointment to go question his other sergeant, perhaps he was a little jealous. don't look at him like that. what's so wrong about maybe wanting a secret admirer?

unbeknownst to him, he would get a gift of his own in no time. when he got to the mess hall, he immediately spotted a box of something right on his table. he quickly went to the seat he always sits at, because of course he has a specific place to eat every day— and he hopes it isn't too obvious to the other soldiers nearby that he's resisting the urge to dash over and admire the supposed present.

when he finally gets to see the gift up close, he practically has stars in his eyes. the note on top of the box catches his eyes first before anything, a simple sentence of 'heard you had a sweet tooth.' typed on the printed out paper.

he has to resist a giddy grin creeping onto his face as he carefully slides the note aside, looking at the box of assorted chocolates in front of him. ultimately, he breaks, and a smile is instantly plastered on his face, already taking one of the sweets and plopping it into his mouth, humming contentedly.

he has the urge to dig into all of them because the candy is remarkably delicious and has his body tingling with dopamine, but fights it and chooses on savoring the gift, taking time to relish in each pieces' flavor.

he enjoys the way the first layers of chocolate slowly melts on his tongue and the taste of the equally chocolate-y syrup inside hits him like a freight train— it makes him appreciate the person who gave him this even more so.

don't worry though, johnny isn't too greedy. he saves the other half of the box for later.

eventually, he does lift his glued-on gaze from the gift to around the mess hall. though, he's met with the other soldiers giving him weird looks. and it does look kind of odd to be fair. a grown man, another soldier, in the mess hall eating a randomly fancy box of chocolates by himself.

despite the little awkward situation and the slightly unpleasant, silent walk out of the mess hall with the box in hand, you know he's walking around with a broad grin on his face for probably the next few days.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick:

to him, the similar occurrence between his captain and sergeant friend was strange. he'd heard identical stories from both of them now— the same concept of a mysterious offering given to them by a mysterious person.

he was wondering if the lieutenant got one too, and just hadn't told anyone. he was also questioning if he would get one as well. was this individual giving gifts to everyone in the task force?

well, he'd find out soon enough. the answer is most definitely yes.

he'd been dragged away by soap just right after a briefing, into a mostly empty hallway. and after a measly, short conversation and or slight argument about why gaz had been dragged here in the first place, and also why soap looked like he was holding in a giggle fit, the latter pulled out a box from his pocket. so he is getting a gift as well— same note and everything.

soap explains that he'd been requested by this 'anonymous person' to deliver him one as well, like a damn messenger pigeon.

so gaz takes the container carefully in hand before soap snickers and scurries away to do whatever.

he's pretty interested in what's inside as he properly takes a look at it. the box is flatter than your average box, black and sleek with of course, a small, yellow sticky note taped on top. 'this is one of our favourite memories. -unknown.'

he glances around the empty hallway for a moment, feeling a bit weird standing in a quiet hallway, opening a present by himself, alone. but nevermind that— he opens it, and kyle is met with.. a necklace. a silver necklace with a heart locket attached to the bottom.

he moderately cocks his head at the sight of the locket, then picks the necklace up with his right hand, the box still resting on the surface of the other. he opens the heart and squints, a mini photograph of himself and.. another recruit, wearing a mask, so he couldn't see their face. his hand was slung over their shoulder and they were doing the same to his, and despite them covering their face, he could still see a small smile on their face and his own.

he can remember this. he thinks he knows this. it was a group photo of the whole task force. there's the other soldiers in this photo too, but the photo is cropped in a way that you can only see him and the other comrade.

but he doesn't seem to.. remember who he was next to? something in his memory is bugged, like when you forget that one word but you also somewhat remember at the same time, or you forget what you were going to say while having a conversation with somebody.

it almost makes him as frustrated as price when he got his gift, but he wants to push those other emotions aside and just focus on the gratefulness he feels. to be honest he adores the necklace. he's sure he would think it suits him if he wore it and looked in the mirror.

and the picture.. he's still thinking about it. still looking at it. he finds the memory charming and sweet, even if he can't remember this soldier properly. he likes the way he can still see both of the happiness and smile in their eyes despite how tiny the image is. he likes the way he can see the shine and colour in their eyes in the dim light where the photo was taken.

the more he admires the jewelry the more he falls in love with it. the more he wants to cherish it and the mysterious fella who has gifted it to him.

after a lot of staring, and smiling at the present in hand, he finally closes the locket and slips the necklace on, briefly feeling the cold silver around his neck before it turns warm from his body heat.

and then he just walks off casually just like soap, who's probably waiting around the corner to ask "what'd you get?"

he now holds the box close to his chest as if he might keep that too, nearing the end of the hallway.

kyle's mind goes to the photo again, and his brain starts whirring with the thoughts of who it is.

but he's sure he'll remember later. he'll know who the person is soon enough, maybe if he sees them walking through the halls with that same mask. but either way, he knows he'll remember, and he'll thank them for this gift.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley:

now, he already knew he was going to get a gift as well, seeing as everyone in the task force but him has gotten at least something. he's heard price's predicament, johnny entering a briefing a little too happily with small bits of chocolate syrup near his lips, and kyle proudly walking around base wearing a necklace.

but he has some assumptions that the person didn't get anything for him. he's.. well, simon 'ghost' riley, after all. spooky, intimidating to most, tall dude.

but it seems his assumptions were incorrect, because he came back to his barracks after somewhat of a rough mission just to notice a a small, dark box oddly left on top of one of the shelves near his bed.

after easily retrieving the container, he examines it— and there's the typical 'note' from them, a few words written on top of the lid with a white marker. it reads, 'saw this and it reminded me of you. from a soldier friend of yours.'

.. but what if this 'soldier friend' has actually left a bomb inside of this? will it explode right now? a spy camera? is anybody watching?

you can't blame him for the skepticism. a strange box randomly appearing on one of your shelves? you would be hesitant to open it too.

after a few shakes he gives to the box to hear if anything suspicious is inside, he decides that it isn't a miniscule explosive or a secret camera or any other funky gadget.

simon opens it, and one of his eyebrows raises as an automatic response. a bracelet? specifically, a bracelet made of small, shiny, white pearls with a single flower charm.

but he's not ungrateful or doesn't like it, per se, he's just.. confused. as everyone else was.

confused that somebody thought to get him a gift. bought something for him that he never asked for or mentioned or even thought of himself.

it's not what he was expecting at all. a bracelet. really? for him? but why? he stands in that spot for a good minute, trying to make sense of this. but he's also trying to tell himself he doesn't care about this.

but there's a little creature in his heart or in his brain or something whispering to him that he actually kind of likes it.

he won't admit any of this— but he does end up keeping it, box and all. and he does like the gorgeous glossiness of the pearls and the intricate details and carvings of the charm.

he likes the way it feels on his wrist when he slides it on. it has a nice, cool feeling, but not cold enough for it to be uncomfortable. like the way a cold pillow feels nice against your head.

and from that day forward, if you look closely enough, you can always see a glimpse of a shiny piece of jewelry peeking through the bottom of ghost's sleeve.

[bettysupremacy]

The Cheerleader Curse

summary When you randomly show up at Eddie’s table, he takes your presence more malevolent than you intended

w/c 1.3k

a/n requested here!

Carol groans as Tina’s new boyfriend squeezes the meat of her hip. Turned away, he’s locked in a conversation with his teammate beside him.

“It’s sweet.” You defend.

“It’s nauseating, is what it is, I’m trying to eat here.” She takes a fry from your tray casually, popping it into her mouth.

Your nose scrunches, kicking her under the table with your white cheer sneaker. “Don’t be a bitch,” you take a handful off Tina’s boyfriends tray, dumping them onto hers. “Take his.”

She laughs loudly, biting into another one.

Tina’s boyfriend Derek turns, confused at the loudness of Carol’s laugh. “Girls.” Tommy shrugs, covering up your misbehavior. He too steals a fry from Carol’s plate, slinging his arm around her when he’s fit the whole thing in his mouth.

Tina’s shoe nudges yours. “You coming to my party this weekend?”

You dust your hands, chewing on a fry thoughtfully. “Um,” you swallow. “I think I have plans.”

Tina and Carol share a look. A dramatic, exasperated, look. “We never get to see you anymore.” Your best friend whines.

“You know we miss you at the parties.” Tina follows in suit.

You nod, understanding of their annoyance. “I just,” you sigh. “I promised I’d bring the boys to this the arcade, and we usually don’t leave till midnight.”

“Can’t Steve take em?” Tommy steals another fry. Carol swats him in the chest. “What?” He chews. “Boyfriend tax.”

“Steve works the late shift.” You shrug. “And it’s my weekend.”

“My weekend.” Tina imitates. “Why does everything always fall on your weekend?”

You frown, wary of the fallout between your friends. “He’s going through a lot.”

Tommy rolls his eyes, but his thoughts are kept quiet.

“He is.”

“We know,” Carol mumbles. “We know.”

Tina scrunches her nose at the interaction, unaware of the events that ripped Tommy, Carol, and Steve apart. “Well,” She shrugs. “If you get off the hook early you can show up.”

You nod, reaching down to pick your bag from the ground at the mention of the boys. “Of course,” you push from your seat. “I’ll be right back, don’t miss me.”

“We will.” Tina takes a fry from Derek’s plate. He doesn’t seem to mind.

The walk over to the boys table isn’t embarrassing, but it is uncomfortable. Your mind spins the whole cafeteria looking at you, wondering what is she doing? Why is she associating with them.

You flick Mike in the head when you reach. He doesn’t seem to mind, flicking your knee, but you look up guiltily anyways when you hear Eddie scoff.

“Hello?” He huffs, annoyed. This was a first. Sending a girl to do the terrorizing instead of Jason. Maybe he was absent, maybe he called you and asked can you do me a favor?

“Hi,” you nod at the older boy. You don’t know his age, but you where you are a first time senior, he is not. You don’t like the glare he fixes you with, sitting, waiting expectantly, like you’ll do something.

He’s pretty in his own way. Soft brown eyes, big curly hair. Any girl would be quick to swoon at his usual easy flirt personality.

Or maybe that’s just you.

You smile at him anyways while Dustin looks up from his picked at lunch tray.

“Hi, buddy.” Your warm hand glides over the Dustin’s cool forehead. He fusses as you smooth his curls.

“Stop,” he swats with the coolness of a teenager.

Eddie nearly jumps to scare you away, and he could. Dark black eyeliner, enough silver to shine a mile away, he’s easily intimidating. Especially when his face holds this expression of expectant distain.

Your eyes crinkle at Dustin’s flustered embarrassment. “How’re you, kid?” Its directed towards Mike and Dustin.

“Been better.” Dustin huffs at the same time Mike shrugs a fine.

You nod, hands stuffed into the oversized pockets of your varsity jacket as you roll on your heels. “You have Biology next?”

“Do you want to kill me?” Dustin shoulders droop.

“You normally love that class.”

“Not today,” he sighs, sickeningly morose as he looks up at you. “Can’t find my book anywhere.”

You frown. “That’s not good.”

He doesn’t react to the bluntness of the statement. “Tell me about it.”

“You check under your bed?” You tilt your head.

“And my moms.”

“Your backpack?”

“First place I checked, obviously.” The end of the sentence comes out with less attitude than he meant.

“Hmm,” you hum, Dustin doesn’t notice the glint in your eyes that Eddie does. “My car?” You smile.

His shoulders drop, relief and embarrassment mingling together clashingly. “You bozo.”

You pull it from the shoulder bag you currently carry. It thuds to the table loudly, but nobody outside the table seems to notice. “I know, you’re welcome.”

“Thank you.” He snatches the book quickly.

You smile. “Nobody’s trying to take it from you.”

Settling into your spot, you watch as Dustin shoves his book into his bag carelessly, and ignore the upset feeling of Eddie looking at you over the younger boys back. Searching the expression, you can’t find anything nice in it. Your tummy flips uncomfortably. “Well,” you nod to Dustin. “Don’t die before biology.”

“Noted,” he salutes, and you have to stop yourself from wrinkling your nose in cringe. Teen boys.

Eddie notices of course, his guard standing strong.

“Wait!” Dustin panics before you fully walk from the situation. “Steve can’t pick me up today.”

Harrington? Eddie thinks. The fuck is Dustin doing with Harrington?

“You need a ride?” You offer, but not really offer, cause you won’t let him decline.

“That-“

“I can give you a ride,” Eddie interrupts loudly, standing from his plastic seat. His fingertips push into the cold, sticky, table. “I’m not doing anything after school.”

And it’s not that you don’t trust Eddie, but who lets their children get in cars with strangers? Especially strangers in scary looking band tees.“Oh, it’s fine.” you look down at the geeky teen below you. “Right, Dustin?”

The younger boy nods. “It’s cool.”

“No, really,” Eddie continues, doing what he thinks is a favor to Dustin. “it’s no problem.”

Mike giggles from where he sits.

“Dude,” Dustin laughs confusedly. “It’s cool.”

And Eddie sits back down.

“Meet me at my car.” You point at the boys. “Don’t be late.”

And with that you turn, all the way back to your preferred table.

“That was weird.” Eddie laughs uncomfortably when you’re out of hearing distance. The whole table looks at him silently. “What?”

“We’re friends with her.” Mikes eyes zoom in. Eddie sweats.

“Didn’t you see her glare at me?” Eddie’s eyes scrunch in confusion. “And when have we ever associated with that group?”

“We’ve been through shit.” Dustin shrugs. “She’s cool.”

“And Harrington.”

Dustin shrugs again, hesitant with his next words. “He’s cool too.”

Jeff laughs loudly at Eddie. “You’re looking for a reason to be paranoid.”

“You sure your weed is clean?” Gareth chimes in teasingly.

“Fuck off.” Eddie sighs slumping in his seat. His eyes eyes lead back to you as the boys move on. He saw you glare. “They’re like a curse.”

“Who?” Gareth laughs.

“Them.” He waved dismissively towards you. “The cheerleaders.”

“She was nice.” Jeff shrugs.

“Nice until they’re not.” His head shakes seriously.

“Nice to look at.” Comes in Gareth quickly.

Jeff high fives him under the table, but Eddie ignores. The Cheerleader Curse.

A good campaign name.

“I don’t think Eddie likes me very much.” You sit back down at the table.

“The freak?” Carol asks. Tina side kicks her, shaking her head in don’t be mean.

“Yeah,” Your bag drops to the floor. “He was looking at me weird.”

“Maybe he wants in your pants.” Tommy shrugs, unconcerned. Carol swats him again.

“Gross,” She rolls her eyes. “But I did hear he has a reputation.” She pauses, glancing back at him. “Somehow.”

You look up at your friends. “What kind of reputation?”

“I heard he sleeps around.” Carol shrugs.

“I heard,” Tina chimes in, leaning into the group. “That he sells drugs in the woods.”

“He does.” Tommy shrugs. “He’s weird, but his weed isn’t shit.”

Tina sits back. “What’s his price?”

The conversation gets placed on back hold in your mind. Briefly, you debate looking back, ultimately turning to peek over your shoulder. What couldn’t he like about you? Had your nonexistent interaction turned him off of the idea of getting to know you?

For some funny reason, the thought sits in your gut uncomfortably.

“You good?” Carol reaches over the table to lightly pinch your arm. “We gotta call the Nurse?”

“No.” The shake of your head is adamant. “No, m’good.”

“Seriously,” Tommy shrugs. “He’s just weird, don’t let it bother you.”

You nod placid. “Yeah,” Your eyes flit to Eddie, before back to your friends again. “You’re right.”

“That’s my girl.” Tina’s knee knocks with yours.

You smile convincingly, nodding to your friends words. It’s hard for you to focus after that, mind clouded by the mean boy 6 tables away. You don’t look back again, don’t peek.

And somehow, Carol can see right through you.

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

In My Room // Ethan Landry

request: none

prompts: none

summary: you’ve been dead for a few weeks. yet somehow, you showed up at ethan’s window in the middle of the night. things almost seem too good to be true. that is until you tell ethan that he has to keep killing if he wants to see you again.

warnings: very gory, graphic depictions murder, a lot of blood, a lot of main character deaths, very off plot, mentions of suicide, suicide but not very graphic, getting stabbed in the eye, descriptions of your rotting body, allusions to smut but nothing graphic, possible psychotic break

word count: 10.2k

a/n: gn reader, does not follow plot of scream 6 at all, i thought this song fit ethan perfectly and well this happened lol, not my gif

Are you gonna let me in?

Hello?

Hello?

Ethan shot straight up from his bed, his heart pounding. For the past hour there has been an incessant tapping coming from his window. He had tried to brush it off as simply a tree branch, or maybe a bird. But then he heard a voice. No. He heard your voice. It was exactly the same as he had remembered. But that was impossible. It had to be. You were dead. Right?

He looked over to his window and almost fell backwards in a mixture of pure shock and terror. Sure enough, there you were. Sitting outside of his bedroom window, tapping on the glass. Except you looked different. Just like you had the last time he saw you. Your skin was pale, and there was a bullet hole in the side of your head, blood seeping down the side of your face.

You saw Ethan looking at you and you smiled. A sick and twisted sight. You no longer had the same calming presence about you. There was something else there. Something sinister. Your smile was wicked and your eyes were dark. Blood dripped out of your mouth, staining your teeth and leaving red streaks down your chin.

Ethan still sat on his bed, looking at you. He couldn’t comprehend the sight in front of him. You were dead. You died a few weeks ago. Ethan had seen it, you died right in front of him. By his own hand. And yet, here you were, still tapping at his window and smiling eerily. But even though you were moving, and even speaking to him, you still looked dead. And the sight of it terrified him.

“Please let me in, Ethan. You don’t want me to freeze to death, do you?” You laughed softly at your words, knowing full well you were already dead.

Ethan hesitantly nodded and stood up, walking over to his window. He pulled it open and you crawled inside. His fear began to grow the longer he was around you. You smelled of blood and rotting flesh. You looked like a zombie. That was the closest thing he could compare you to. But even a zombie wouldn’t induce this much fear in him. So you must’ve been something else entirely.

“Thanks for letting me in, baby. We have so much to talk about.” You smiled sweetly, but your eyes still held the darkness you possessed.

2:45 and the bell went off

Thank God, many people think I'm odd

But I talk with no one and I walk alone

And I avoid sunlight with a chalky tone

Ethan pulled his hood over his head tighter and walked out of the classroom. He went to all his classes like normal, but he couldn’t even bring himself to focus on anything. His mind was focused on one thing, and one thing only. You.

More specifically, everything that had happened with you last night. You had crawled in through his window, and sat yourself upon his bed, some of your blood dripping onto the sheets, staining them red. Ethan walked over, but still stayed at a distance. He had seen enough horror movies to know that the ghost of someone you killed usually wasn’t very friendly.

“Why so tense, baby?” you had asked, tilting your head questioningly.

Ethan fumbled over his words, stuttering as he tried to reply. “I- uhm, well. I- uhh,” he couldn’t even figure out what he was trying to say, let alone how to make the words leave his mouth.

You simply smiled again and waved him over. He hesitantly came closer, sitting down beside you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss your presence, but there was something off about you. However, you didn’t seem particularly angry with him, or even upset for that matter. You just continued smiling at him, and you reached forward to place your hand on top of his. He had flinched at your touch, but he soon relaxed under it. You always had a way of comforting him, even when you looked like you were dead.

“How? How are you here?” Ethan asked, looking confused and intrigued at the same time.

You laughed softly. “Don’t you remember, baby? You killed me. Shot me. Right here.” You brought your other hand up and touched the gunshot wound on the side of your head. Your fingers were covered in your blood when you pulled them away.

Ethan felt his eyes well up with tears as he looked at you. He had never really experienced guilt before, but now the weight of it was almost crushing. “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I didn’t want to kill you, believe me. I- I didn’t have a choice.”

You smiled once more, and brought your hand up to rest against his cheek, your blood staining his skin. He leaned into your touch. “I know, baby. I know you would never want to hurt me.”

He let out a sigh of relief and smiled at you. Gone was the fear he had felt moments before. All he could feel was his love for you. A love that extended beyond the bounds of life and death.

“But if you want to keep seeing me, I need you to do something for me.”

Ethan looked at you and nodded eagerly. “Anything. I’ll do anything for you. Just tell me what it is, and I’ll do it.”

You smiled wickedly. “Perfect.”

I get home and don't say hi, it ain't no one there

I don't care I walk in and go right up the stairs

To my room, get in bed and just wait for dark

Because that's when the real show start (Tap, tap)

Ethan sat on his bed, still wearing his Ghostface costume and holding his knife, both of which were covered in blood. He stared at his window expectantly, waiting for you to appear again. It had only been a day since he saw you last, but he couldn’t wait any longer.

He turned away to pull his mask off, setting it down on his bed beside him. As soon as his eyes were off of his window, he heard a gentle tapping coming from the other side of the glass. There you sat, perched outside of his window, looking exactly as you did the night before. Ethan shot up from his bed and practically scrambled to get over to the window and open it.

“Hi baby.” You smiled sweetly, your eyes still looking demonic. You crawled through his window again and sat down on his bed, waiting for him to come sit beside you.

As he walked back over, you noticed the bloody mask on the bed, as well as the bloody knife in his hand. You smiled gleefully, moving closer to him when he sat down.

“So? Did you do it? Exactly like I told you?” you asked, looking at Ethan, eagerly awaiting his answer.

He shrugged, before he nodded at you. “Almost exactly. I managed to slaughter Quinn and her boy toy. Anika almost got away, but I managed to kill her as well. Pushed her off a ladder as she was crawling into another apartment. I managed to stab Mindy too.” Ethan smiled wickedly, the rush of his recent kills still flowing through his veins.

You smiled again, leaning over to kiss Ethan gently. He sighed into the kiss, melting into your touch. You pulled away and looked into his eyes, a proud look on your face.

“Good job baby. You did so well. Now, before we talk about your next victims, I think you earned a little reward, hmm?”

Ethan smiled excitedly. You crawled onto his lap, smiling down at him. Then you reached down and began to take your shirt off.

"Tap tap" on the glass go the piece of ass

So young and pretty, it's too bad she passed

But she comes to my room and we talk at night

She's demonic and bloody, but she holds me tight

“What the hell were you thinking?! You know you weren’t supposed to kill Quinn! You’re such a fucking idiot Ethan! And to think I even thought you would ever compare to Richie. You’re just a useless piece of shit! I wish you had died instead of him!” Wayne yelled at his son, anger in his eyes and hatred in his voice.

Ethan practically cowered under his fathers gaze, feeling as though he was shrinking under the harsh glare. He tried to say something, anything to defend himself. But he just couldn’t. There was nothing he could say to help calm his father down. The plan was to make it look like Quinn had died. But you had told Ethan to really kill her. So he did. Because he swore to do whatever you wanted him to. And the next thing you wanted him to do was kill his father.

Wayne scoffed at Ethan’s silence. “Oh I get it. This is about y/n, isn’t it? You’re still mad that I made you kill her, is that it? Get over yourself. She found out about our plan. She was going to ruin everything! We had no choice!”

Ethan’s fingers wrapped around the knife in his hoodie pocket, feeling himself grow angry. Ethan felt your hand on his shoulder. He turned to look, but you weren’t there. And yet, he still heard your voice.

“You know what you have to do. Just kill him, and then you can see me again. Don’t you want to see me again? We had so much fun last time. Didn’t we?”

Ethan nodded and steadied himself. He walked closer to his father, his gaze hardening. He clutched the knife handle tightly, not yet revealing the weapon.

“No she wasn’t! She swore to me that she wasn’t going to tell anyone! I loved her! I fucking loved her! And you took her away from me!”

Ethan was only a few steps away from his father now, and Wayne could practically feel the anger radiating off of his son. He tried to back up, but he was already leaning against the wall. Ethan pulled his knife out, holding it against his father’s throat.

“Whoa, careful now Ethan! What do you think you’re doing? Just put the knife down. We can talk about this. Okay?”

Ethan’s hand shook. Then he heard your voice again.

“Do it. All you have to do to see me again is kill him. Do it.”

Ethan’s gaze hardened and he felt himself grow more steady. Wayne opened his mouth to speak again, but Ethan already dragged the knife against his throat before the words could come out. He felt the blood splatter his face, the crimson liquid staining his pale skin. He watched with a smile as his father grasped his neck and fell to the ground, drawing in his final breaths.

“Good job baby,” you whispered in his ear.

He turned to see you, and you still weren’t there. But you would be.

In my bedroom, with her I'm never alone

And I kiss her cold lips until the morning come

Then she gone, I can still hear her voice loom

But she only exist in the dark of my room

Ethan walked into his bedroom and jumped in fright when he saw someone sitting on his bed. He felt himself calm when he realized it was just you. It was odd though. You had never been waiting for him on his bed before, you had always been outside his window, tapping on the glass and waiting to be let in. He pushed away his confusion, too overtaken by his excitement from seeing you.

You smiled, a sickeningly sweet one at that, and gazed upon Ethan, taking in his blood covered form. He felt chills run down his spine as you stared at him. His face was still covered in his father’s blood, and there was a blood stain coming from his pocket which held the knife. You reached out, beckoning Ethan closer. He did as you wanted, and sat beside you on his bed.

“You did such a good job baby. Killed your father, just like I asked. I’m so proud of you, my love.” The sweet look on your face did not match the darkness of your words. But somehow, the way you put them all together just made sense. And it drew Ethan in even more.

“Why do you keep asking me to kill people? Not that I mind, I’m just curious. You weren’t like this… before,” Ethan said, growing nervous as your smile faltered slightly.

“Nevermind that baby. All you need to know is that if you want to keep seeing me, you’ll do whatever I say. And that includes killing whoever I tell you to. Alright?”

Ethan nodded. You smiled once more, and brought your hands up to hold his face. You leaned in closer to him, kissing him hungrily. Ethan shivered under your touch. You were so cold, it almost felt as if he was kissing a frozen corpse. But it was you, and dead or not, he still wanted you. And clearly you still wanted him. So he decided that it didn’t matter. You were the only thing that mattered to him. And he wasn’t going to let anything or anyone take you away ever again.

Love (I can't ignore you)

In my room (Do anything for you, baby) (Tap, tap)

Love (I do adore you)

In my room, you and I (Tap, tap go the piece of ass)

Ethan laid down on his bed, out of breath and filled with ecstasy. No matter how many times he had been with you, you never failed to take his breath away. You sat beside him, looking down at him and running your cold fingers through his hair. You had pulled his shirt on, and Ethan was lying underneath the covers. He felt his eyes slowly begin to close, your touch and your presence relaxing him.

“You can’t fall asleep just yet baby. I need to give you your next target. Or you’ll never see me again.” You frowned at your words.

Ethan’s eyes opened and he sat up, eagerly awaiting your instructions. He really didn’t have anything to lose anymore, since you had already instructed him to kill his sister and father, the last two members of his family. You were all he had now. His friends didn’t trust him. Which was technically well deserved since Ethan truly was the one behind all of the recent murders. Or more accurately, you were the one behind the murders, and Ethan was nothing except your puppet.

Still, he didn’t mind doing your bidding. Killing whoever you told him to. He found it thrilling. Not only did he get a rush out of killing, but he knew that every time he did it, you would show up that night, ready to reward him for his efforts. It was getting riskier and riskier for him, but he found himself not caring about the consequences anymore. As long as he got to be with you, he could care less about what would happen to him.

You smiled at his excitement, and ran your fingers through his hair one last time, before pulling your hands away. His shoulders fell slightly, but he tried to not let his disappointment show. He didn’t want to risk doing anything to upset you, because he didn’t want you to stop showing up. So he sat there, waiting for you to speak.

“Gale is next. While Kirby is running surveillance and everyone else is distracted, get into Gale’s apartment and gut her. And her little boyfriend too. Don’t go easy on them. Make it long, and painful. I want you to make a mess. I want you to destroy them. Do that, and I’ll come back tomorrow night.”

Ethan nodded eagerly, letting your instructions imprint in his mind. He had to do it exactly as you said. The last time he got a few details wrong, you didn’t go easy on him that night. He still had some of the bruises on his skin from it. This time, he wasn’t going to disappoint you.

Love (I can't ignore you)

In my room (Do anything for you, baby) (Tap, tap)

Love (I do adore you)

In my room, you and I (Tap, tap go the piece of ass)

Ethan had done what you said, and he was currently hiding in Gale’s apartment. Her boyfriend walked by and Ethan grabbed him, placing his hand over his mouth tightly and pressing his knife deep into his stomach. The man groaned in pain, and Ethan only clamped his hand over his mouth harder. He twisted the knife and dragged it up, tearing his torso open. His organs began to spill out, along with excessive amounts of blood.

Ethan smiled. He had done exactly what you wanted. He picked up Gale’s boyfriend’s corpse and threw it into the wooden shelving structure in her living room, the corpse falling through to the other side, causing Gale to scream in terror. Ethan wiped his knife clean and jumped through the hole he had created.

Gale tried to run, but Ethan was faster, easily catching up and pushing her onto the ground. She tried to fight back, but he managed to keep her down. It was as if Gale realized she wasn’t going to get out of this. The fight in her eyes disappeared, and even though she still tried to fight, her efforts were significantly diminished.

Ethan plunged the knife into her side, not wanting to waste any time scaring her and risk her getting away. He had seen enough Stab movies to know that he had to move fast if he wanted her dead. He pulled the knife down, splitting her side open. Gale let out a guttural scream, choking on her own blood a few seconds later. Ethan pulled the knife out and moved back, stabbing her in the torso over and over again. She was a bloody mess, her flesh surrounding her in shredded chunks, and a pool of her blood forming beneath her.

He stood up and smiled at the work he had done. You were going to be so proud of him. Then he heard the door open. Ethan whipped his head around to see Sam and Tara standing there, looking terrified and heartbroken. He ran towards them, desperately wanting to get out of the apartment. He pushed through them and dashed towards the stairs, making it out of the building before either of them had time to react.

I try to smile a lot, but I'm always frontin'

But I do love a ghost and at least that's somethin'

She don't talk much, when she do it gets cold

Usually we just lay there and we hold each other

Just like the night before, you had been sitting on Ethan’s bed, waiting for him to return from his activities. He wasn’t wearing the costume this time, but he held it in his bag, the mask and the knife almost completely covered in blood. But you didn’t even need to see the proof to know he had done what you asked. You just knew. And you simply smiled.

Ethan smiled in return, dropping his backpack onto the floor. He walked towards you in silence, knowing what was going to happen now. The two of you had formed a fucked up routine. He killed someone for you, you would show up in his room and fuck him, and then you would give him instructions for the next day’s victims. Excitement built up in him as he walked closer. You were underneath his covers, and he hadn’t noticed it when he first walked in, but you weren’t wearing anything. His blanket being the only thing covering you.

You sat up, letting the blanket fall down and exposing your bare chest to Ethan. He felt his breath hitch as he looked at you, and he quickly sat down beside you. He pulled his own shirt off, and looked at you expectantly, waiting to see what you wanted to do.

“I saw what you did for me today baby. And it was fucking perfect. You were just as brutal as I had hoped you would be. It was glorious.”

Ethan felt his heart race as you praised his work. He wasn’t used to people being proud of him, and the fact that it was you made it even better. He smiled widely, and he reached a hand forward, resting it on yours.

“It was all for you, my love.”

You smiled at his words, and wrapped your fingers around his hand, pulling him closer. This was going to be fun.

We're lovers, we don't need others

One of my mother's cats jumped up on the covers

And it scared my baby, guess she don't like pets

So I twisted its fuckin' head off at the neck

You were laying on Ethan’s chest, just enjoying each other's company, when a loud bang sounded from outside. You jumped up, clearly startled by the noise, and before Ethan could even react, you had vanished from sight.

“No! Shit! Uhm, fuck. Where did you go? I- I need you to come back. You need to tell me what I’m supposed to do! How will I be able to see you again?” Ethan pleaded, but there was no response.

The noise sounded again, and Ethan got up and walked over to his window. He saw a guy down there, setting off firecrackers, as the other two guys with him watched in delight. Ethan’s jaw clenched as he stared down at them. They were the reason you had left so abruptly. And they weren’t going to get away with it.

Ethan walked over to his backpack and pulled on his Ghostface robe, sliding the mask over his head, and holding the knife in his hand. Chad wasn’t home that night, and it was close enough to Halloween that no one would pay any mind to the bloody costume. Ethan walked out of his dorm and began heading for the ground floor.

He hadn’t been able to get instructions from you for the next kills, so he didn’t know how to get you back. But if killing is what brought you back to him, maybe he would be able to bring you back this way.

Ethan approached the three guys, all wearing letterman jackets. They were all very clearly wasted, most likely drunk off their asses and high on who knows what. But it meant they wouldn’t be able to fight back very well, which was great for Ethan. He probably would never be able to take down three frat boys all on his own. But three wasted frat boys? Now that he could do.

“Yo! Sick costume my man!” one of the guys called out as Ethan walked closer.

Ethan walked over to the closest frat boy, the one who had complimented his outfit, and stabbed him over and over again in the chest and stomach, before slitting his throat. He fell to the ground, blood seeping out of him.

The next frat boy, the one who had been lighting the firecrackers, looked up at Ethan terrified. He tried to back away, but his back hit a wall. He trembled in fear as Ethan grew closer. Ethan smirked to himself as he took in the guy’s fear, and had to hold back a laugh when he realized the boy had pissed himself.

However, the third frat boy had a very different reaction. Ethan turned in confusion as the third guy burst out laughing, tears falling from his eyes.

“Yo, Scotty is that you? Sick prank my man! It looks so fucking real! You almost got me dude.”

Ethan rolled his eyes and turned back to the second guy, stabbing him over and over again wherever he could, before finally plunging his knife into the guy’s head, right through his eye. He removed the knife, and a majority of the guy’s eye came out with it. The third guy’s eyes widened as he began to realize that this wasn’t a prank, and that Ethan wasn’t whoever the hell Scotty was.

“Oh shit!” he screamed, turning to run before tripping on his own feet and face planting onto the ground.

Ethan loomed over him, and raised his knife menacingly. The guy held up his hands, but Ethan ignored them. He raised his knife, and readied himself for his next attack.

Look baby, it's bloody, it's gone, it's doomed

Please come back to the room

I'll do anything for thee, don't ignore me

This is more than a sick love story

Ethan paced back and forth in his bedroom, waiting for you to show up. You hadn’t been waiting for him on his bed like you had been the past two nights. He was beginning to think you might not even show up at all. But then he heard a gentle tap tap tapping on his window, and turned to see you sitting there, just as you had been a few nights ago.

Ethan practically ran over to the window and threw it open, moving back so you could crawl inside. Your face was expressionless as you entered his room, and you looked around, almost as if you were searching for something. Ethan closed his window and then stood beside you, gently intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I got rid of them. The guys who were making noise last night. I slaughtered all three of them and left them in the alley. It was the only way I could think of bringing you back to me.”

You smiled at Ethan’s words, and then grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards you. You kissed him, this time it felt more desperate than it had the previous nights. Ethan thought he might’ve lost you for good, and he couldn’t believe that his idea had worked. He had gotten you back. Maybe it didn’t matter who he killed, as long as he killed someone, you always showed up.

But he didn’t dare mention that to you. He was still going to kill whoever you told him to, and he didn’t want you to think he would ever even think about disobeying you. So he went along with what you were doing, letting you have your way with him. Before he knew it, you had taken his shirt off and pushed him back onto his bed. You were moving closer to him, staring at him hungrily. Ethan felt a shiver run down his spine as you got closer, smiling as you looked down at him.

“You did so good for me baby. So proud,” you smiled, and it was a bit condescending, but Ethan didn’t mind.

He smiled and nodded, feeling his heartbeat speed up from your words and from how close you were. This was going to be a night he would never forget.

Without you I'd bring a shotgun to school

And I will if you want me to, for any reason

I hate that you leave when the lights come on

And if I had it my way the fuckin' sun'd be gone

Ethan rested his head on your chest, looking up at you. There was nothing but love and devotion in his eyes. You had him completely wrapped around your finger. He would do anything to feel you again. To even just see you again. And both of you knew it.

“Who do you want me to kill next, my love? I’ll do anything you say, no matter what. Just tell me, and I’ll do it.”

You laughed fondly and smiled down at him. “You’re so eager. Aren’t you? It’s not just about seeing me, is it? You love killing, don’t you?”

Ethan’s face went red and he looked away from you. It was almost as if he was embarrassed. But you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why. There was nothing to be ashamed of. If anything, his passion for killing helped you out even more. It didn’t take nearly as much convincing as you thought it would to get him to do your bidding.

You placed a finger under his chin and forced him to look up at you. His face was still red, and you simply smiled at him, the sight comforting him slightly.

“Don’t go all shy on me now, baby. I’m right, aren’t I?” you smile turned into a smirk. His face blushed darker as he realized you were teasing him.

He slowly nodded. “Y-yeah. You’re right. I love killing. I’d do it with or without you. N-not to say I want to do it without you! I never want to do anything without you. Ever!”

You smiled fondly. “I know baby, I know. You’re just as fucked up in the head as I am. And I love it. So fucking much.”

He smiled up at you, relaxing into your embrace. You brought your hand up to his head and started absentmindedly playing with his hair. He sighed softly at the feeling, relaxing even more.

“So, how is it going with everyone? Are they getting close to figuring out it’s you?”

Ethan shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. Mindy’s convinced it’s me, but she’s the only one. Everyone else is clueless.”

“She is, huh? Sounds like she’s going to become a problem. Don’t you think?”

Ethan nodded, waiting for you to continue.

“I want her gone next. Find a way to get the two of you separated from the rest of the group. Kill her. Make it look like you tried to protect her. Gain everyone’s trust. Can you do that?”

Ethan nodded, smiling widely at you. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Love (I can't ignore you)

In my room (Do anything for you, baby) (Tap, tap)

Love (I do adore you)

In my room, you and I (Tap, tap go the piece of ass)

The group was currently headed to the Ghostface shrine, where they were hoping to lure in the killer in order to execute him. Too bad he wouldn’t be showing up.

Sam, Tara, Danny, and Chad had gotten onto the subway, the doors closing seconds before Mindy could get on. She had been left behind. With Ethan. Mindy glanced over at him uneasily, but Ethan simply smiled. He was trying to get her to trust him, but Mindy couldn’t shake the feeling that Ethan wasn’t being truthful. Of course, she was right. But no one else had to know that.

Mindy and Ethan got onto the next train, and Mindy walked away from Ethan, not wanting to be sat close to him. Despite that, Ethan walked over and stood beside her anyways. Mindy looked at him confused, and tried shifting away, but Ethan just moved closer again.

“What the hell are you doing?” Mindy asked, glaring at Ethan suspiciously.

“I’m trying to keep both of us safe. Safety in numbers, right? If we stay on our own, it’s more likely for one of us to be attacked. But by all means, if you’re willing to take that chance I’ll go stand somewhere else.”

Mindy sighed and shook her head, relenting. “No, it’s fine. I- I guess you do have a point. And if it is you, there’s no way you would try anything right now. So no harm done, I guess.”

Ethan smiled and nodded. “Exactly. I’ll protect you and you’ll protect me!”

The two of them stood in silence, resting against the door at the end of the train. The lights kept flickering, and Mindy glanced around uneasily. She had been trying to text Chad for the past few minutes, but there wasn’t any service. She grumbled and put her phone away, slightly shifting away from Ethan.

Then the train went dark. Ethan smiled to himself wickedly. Now was his chance. He turned, pushing Mindy against the door and holding his hand against her mouth. To anyone looking, it appeared to be two teenagers making out. The perfect cover. Mindy’s eyes went wide as she stared up at Ethan in fear. He pulled his knife out and sliced her torso open, from bottom to top. Her organs began to fall out, blood pouring out of the newly present opening. Ethan quickly wiped his knife off and concealed it again. Moving away to stand near the seats. Mindy fell to the floor.

When the lights finally came back on, Ethan looked over to see Mindy lying on the floor, and immediately pretended to freak out. He had to put on a good show, this needed to look realistic.

“Oh shit, Mindy!”

He rushed over to her side, crouching beside her, trying to help keep her blood in. An obviously futile task.

“Shit, that’s a lot of blood. Help! Somebody help!”

Ethan managed to get Mindy off of the subway and placed her on the ground, resting her against a column. She was clearly dead by now, but he didn’t stop trying to get help. Two security guards from the station rushed over to assist, and Ethan backed up, maintaining a panicked look on his face. Despite how upset he looked, he was overjoyed on the inside. Another victim down. And it was all for you. He would get to see you again soon, and he couldn’t wait.

Love (I can't ignore you)

In my room (Do anything for you, baby) (Tap, tap)

Love (I do adore you)

In my room, you and I (Tap, tap go the piece of ass)

Ethan walked into his room and shut the door behind him. Just like you had before, you sat on his bed waiting for him. Ethan could barely contain his excitement at just the mere sight of you. You were beautiful. Even if you were dead, and you very clearly looked like it, Ethan still thought you were beautiful. It didn’t matter that you were covered in your own blood or that you were slowly rotting from the inside out. He would always think you were beautiful. No matter what.

“I did it. Just like you told me to,” he said, smiling widely as he walked over to you.

You smiled sweetly, your eyes still dark and soulless. “Good job baby. I’m so proud of you.”

You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tightly. Ethan relaxed into your embrace, leaning up against you. You kissed the top of his head and then pulled away, smiling again. But this time, it was more sinister.

“Only a few more left, baby. And then we can be together. Forever,” your sweet voice starkly contrasted the cruelness of your words.

Ethan nodded eagerly, turning to face you completely.

“Tell me what to do next. Tell me, and I’ll do it. I’d do anything to be with you forever.”

“I know you would, my love. That’s why I love you. More than anything else.”

Ethan smiled again. “I love you too.”

“So tell me about it. I want to hear everything,” you smiled wickedly, leaning forward slightly.

Ethan nodded. He went to answer, but you had moved so close to him that he just couldn’t help himself. Ethan leaned in and kissed you, feeling his head begin to spin from your touch.

Sometimes I kiss her, I start shakin'

She slips me the tongue, and it tastes like bacon

Uh oh, something's wrong, baby's upset

She told me she was spotted by the neighbor's kid

You giggled as you pulled away from the kiss. Ethan’s eyes were wide and his face was flushed. His heart was racing and his mind was moving so fast he couldn’t form any words. He looked over at you, smiling like a lovesick idiot.

“Come on darling. Tell me all about it.” You smiled again, growing excited from just thinking about the latest murder your boyfriend committed in your name.

“I did everything you asked. I got Mindy separated from the rest of the group. We were on a different train together. And when the lights on the train went out, I gutted her. Everything went perfectly.”

Before you could respond, Ethan’s door burst open. Chad stood there, glaring at Ethan. He felt a shiver run down his spine, Chad had never looked so angry before. So terrifying. Ethan turned to look over at you, but you were gone. Ethan’s eyes narrowed as he turned back to Chad. It was his fault you were gone. How dare Chad take you away from him?

“Are you fucking kidding me?! It was you?! This whole time I trusted you. I defended you. And you were the killer this whole fucking time?!” Chad stormed over to Ethan, enraged.

He grabbed Ethan by the collar of his shirt and pushed him up against the wall. Ethan didn’t feel scared of Chad anymore. He was just angry. Chad had made you leave. And he wasn’t going to get away with it.

“How could you? You were my best friend! How could you do that? Why? Why did you kill Mindy?!” Chad yelled, keeping Ethan pushed up against the wall.

“I didn’t have a choice! It was y/n! They made me do it!” Ethan said, trying to keep Chad distracted. He subtly reached his arm out towards his nightstand, trying to grab his knife.

“Bullshit man! Y/n is dead! You probably killed her too! Tell me the truth! Why did you do this?” Chad only grew angrier, pulling Ethan away from the wall and shoving him against it again.

“I told you why! Y/n made me do it!” Ethan grasped the knife and pulled it over.

She can't come back now 'cause they know our secret

Unless I can make them keep it

If I do she may come to life

Now I'm in their yard with a shotgun and knife

Ethan drove his knife into Chad’s side, blood instantly staining the fabric of his shirt. He immediately let go of Ethan as he screamed in pain. Ethan pushed Chad back, causing him to fall over onto Ethan’s bed. He walked over and stabbed Chad, again and again. Everywhere he could. Chad was long dead by now, nothing more than a bloody mess, but Ethan couldn’t stop. He was just so angry. He had been wanting to see you all day, and now because of Chad, you were gone.

Ethan finally got off of Chad, leaving him unrecognizably mutilated. His room was completely covered in blood, making it look like something right out of a Stab movie. Ethan wiped his knife off on his bed sheets and shoved it in a pocket inside his jacket. He walked out of his room and left his dorm without a second thought. He was still covered in blood, but it was Halloween, so it didn’t matter. He could walk around like this and nobody would question anything.

Before he could even realize where he was going, he found himself heading towards Sam and Tara’s apartment complex. He was still in a blind rage, and he didn’t want to have to wait any longer to be with y/n forever. They were going to have him kill Sam and Tara anyways, so why wait any longer? He wanted to be with you now.

Ethan walked up the stairs, his eyes dark and his head numb. He wasn’t even entirely aware of his actions right now. He was angry, and the only thing he could think about was you. All he had to do was kill two more people, and then you could stay with him forever. So what if he had to kill all his friends and the only family he had left? It was all worth it for you. Anything would be worth it for you.

Cut the screen, went in and found the kid

Blew a bowl of spaghetti in the side of his head

And the daddy was next runnin' down the hall

I shredded his throat and he was quick to fall

Ethan knocked on the apartment door and waited. A few moments later he heard the locks clicking open. The door swung open, and Tara stood behind it. She gasped when she looked up at Ethan, who was still very much covered in blood. She moved aside to let Ethan in, and when she turned to lock the door, Ethan smiled to himself.

“Ethan, what happened?! Are you hurt?” Tara walked over to him and tried to check for any major injuries.

“No, I’m alright. But it- it’s just…,” Ethan trailed off, pretending to be holding back tears.

“What is it? What happened?” Tara’s eyes grew worried, and her breathing began to quicken.

“It’s Chad. He- He’s gone. The killer. They were in our dorm when we got back. They killed Chad. I- I managed to get away. I just feel horrible for leaving him behind,” Ethan choked on his words. He began forcing tears to fall.

Tara pulled him into a hug, feeling herself begin to cry as well.

“I- I can’t believe this. I’m so sorry.”

She sobbed against Ethan, burying her face against his shoulder. Ethan let her, and slipped his hand into his jacket, pulling out his knife. While Tara was distracted, he plunged it into her back, causing Tara to let out a bloodcurdling scream. He brought his other hand up to the back of her head, keeping her face pressed against him to muffle her screams.

He pulled the knife up, cutting through her flesh and leaving a trail of blood in his wake. He yanked it out and then stabbed her, over and over again. A pool of blood began to form beneath the two of them. Soon she stopped struggling, and her body went limp in his arms. Ethan let go of her and pushed her forward, Tara’s body falling to the floor.

“Tara? Are you alright?” Sam called from her bedroom.

Apparently the sound of a body hitting the floor was louder than Ethan thought. But at least he knew where Sam was. He wiped the blood off of his knife and slid it back into his jacket, walking towards where he heard Sam’s voice.

Tossed the Mossberg and gripped the knife

Started stabbin' the shit outta his wife

Went home a bloody mess with a job well done (Tap, tap)

Wash up and wait for my baby to come (Tap, tap)

He pushed the door open and cursed to himself when he saw Danny in Sam’s room with her. Taking the two of them down was going to be difficult. But he knew he would be able to do it. He would be able to do anything, as long as it was for you. So, Ethan stepped into the room.

He tried to make himself look sad, hoping he could make the two of them believe he was innocent. If he burst in here trying to kill them immediately, there was no way he was going to make it out of here. He glanced over to Danny, who sat up and looked at Ethan with concern once he saw how much blood was all over him.

Ethan would need to get rid of Danny first. He was going to be the biggest problem. Sam was probably going to be easier. Especially since she was unarmed and not expecting to be attacked.

“Oh my god. What happened to you?” Danny asked, a mixture of shock and confusion in his voice.

Sam, on the other hand, wasn’t as caring. She narrowed her eyes and she looked at Ethan. “How did you get in here?”

“Tara let me in. I- I came over to tell her about Chad. And then, the killer showed up. I- I tried to stop him,” Ethan’s voice broke as he began to fake cry again.

“What about Chad?” Sam asked, not believing Ethan’s story.

“He’s dead. The killer- he was waiting for us when we got back to our dorm. I couldn’t stop him. Chad told me to run. I- I-,” he cut himself off, crying even harder.

Sam stood up, walking over to Ethan.

“Where’s Tara?”

Ethan sniffled. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Sam nodded, then turned to look at her boyfriend. “Danny, stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Love (I can't ignore you)

In my room (Do anything for you, baby) (Tap, tap)

Love (I do adore you)

In my room, you and I (Tap, tap go the piece of ass)

Sam gasped when she saw Tara’s body lying on the floor. She fell to her knees and started sobbing, shaking her sister in an attempt to get her to wake up. But she wasn’t responding.

“She’s not going to wake up,” Ethan said.

Sam turned around to look at Ethan. “What?”

Ethan sighed, then he pulled his knife out. “I said, she’s not going to wake up.”

Sam’s eyes widened as she realized what was happening. She stood up, her eyes turning dark.

“Mindy was right. It was you. Is that why you killed her? Because she was getting too close to figuring it out?”

Ethan shrugged. “More or less.”

“Why are you doing this? We haven’t done anything to you. There isn’t any reason behind this.”

Ethan smiled. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. Richie was my brother. You remember Richie, right? The guy you brutally murdered last year.”

Sam’s eyes widened in shock. She had always thought Ethan looked familiar, but she had never realized why. Not until right now. She stepped closer to Ethan, and Ethan stepped back.

“So that’s why you’re doing this, huh? I’m the one who killed him! You didn’t need to hurt anyone else if you were after me!”

“Actually, that’s not why I’m doing this. That’s why this all started. It was me, Quinn, and our dad. He wanted to get revenge, and he easily talked Quinn into it. I didn’t want to. I didn’t think killing was for me. My mom was against it too. Or, at least she was until my dad made me kill her.”

“Quinn’s your sister? What, you guys did this as a family?”

“You ruined our family, so we wanted to destroy yours. But let’s just say that plans changed.”

“Why would you kill them then, huh? Why kill Quinn? Why kill your dad? I thought you guys were working together.”

“Oh we were. That was until my dad forced me to kill y/n. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret putting the bullet in his head instead. But he’s gone now. All I have left to do is to kill you and your little boyfriend. Then y/n will finally come back to me forever. They won’t have to leave again.”

“What are you talking about? Y/n is dead! You’re not making any sense!”

“I don’t care if it makes sense to you or not, I know the truth.”

Love (I can't ignore you)

In my room (Do anything for you, baby) (Tap, tap)

Love (I do adore you)

In my room, you and I (Tap, tap go the piece of ass)

Ethan didn’t waste anymore time. He lunged for Sam, trying to kill her. She dodged, causing Ethan to slice the side of her arm. Sam screamed in pain, her hand reaching up to press against the steadily bleeding wound. Ethan ran over to her, and was about to stab her again, when he heard Danny appear behind them. Ethan groaned and turned around.

“Yo! What the hell?” Danny said, in shock from the sight before him.

Ethan grumbled. “I don't have time for this shit.”

He stepped towards Danny and lifted his knife, slashing him across the throat. Danny fell to the ground, gripping his throat in an attempt to stop the blood from pouring out. It didn’t do much at all, and he soon laid there on the ground, lifeless, in a puddle of his own blood.

Sam gasped as she watched Danny fall to the ground. Ethan turned around and ran back over to her, stepping on her leg to prevent her from getting away. He leaned down and grabbed Sam’s arm, pulling her up. She fought against his grip, but she wasn’t getting anywhere.

Ethan smiled, a mixture between joy and pure evil, as he plunged his knife into Sam. She screamed out in pain as she continued to try and escape. Ethan stabbed her again and again, adding to the continuously growing puddle of blood on the floor. Sam elbowed Ethan in the side, causing him to loosen his grip on her.

Sam freed her arm and immediately collapsed to the ground. She was losing a lot of blood, and was fighting to remain conscious. She tried to crawl over to the door, but moving was incredibly difficult, especially since she kept slipping in the blood on the floor. Ethan easily walked over to her, and pinned her down on the ground. He stabbed her again, this time in the neck. He twisted the knife, and Sam’s screams slowly died down as he tore through her throat.

Her body soon fell limp and he pulled the knife back out. He placed it back inside his jacket, not bothering to wipe it off this time. Now he had nothing left to do except go back to his dorm and wait.

I waited two or three days, four days

Waitin' for the "tap tap" like always

I waited and hated this (Tap, tap)

I created a bloody mess (Tap, tap)

Ethan sat on his bed, staring out the window. When he had gotten home last night, he cleaned himself off and then went to work on cleaning up his room. He moved Chad’s body into his bedroom, and locked the door before he closed it. Returning to his own room, he cleaned up the blood as best as he could, and he threw away the sheets that had been on his bed, not wanting to bother trying to remove those stains.

Now it was a day later, and everything had been cleaned up. He was sitting on his bed and waiting for you to show up, just like you had for the past few nights. Except this time, you were nowhere to be found. All night Ethan had sat and stared at his window, waiting for you to show up. But you never did.

Soon, the sun had come up. He stayed up all night waiting for you, and you never showed. He was upset, and he was confused. What had he done wrong? He had done everything you wanted and then some. He killed his best friend for you. He killed his family. He even killed the rest of the people you wanted all at once, so neither of you would have to wait anymore.

What had he done wrong? You always showed up. Everytime he killed someone, you showed up. But last night you hadn’t. Ethan felt himself spiraling, desperately trying to think of a reason as to why you didn’t show up. But he couldn’t find a single one.

I waited two or three months, four months

Waitin' for the "tap tap," just for once

I waited and hated this (Tap, tap)

I created a bloody mess (Tap, tap)

Every night like clockwork, Ethan sat there and waited for you. He didn’t go to class anymore. He barely ate, barely slept. Seeing you again was the only thing that mattered. Days went by. Then weeks. Then months. And you were still nowhere to be found. It was beginning to drive Ethan crazy.

But he realized he couldn’t just go on like this. If he wanted to see you again, he would have to do something about it. He had been going over what he had done the last night he saw you, and then he realized something. He had missed someone. One of the victims that you had wanted dead was still alive. Kirby was still out there.

After the murders, Kirby had transferred to the FBI in NYC. She was still in the city. It wouldn’t be that difficult for Ethan to find her. Or for Ethan to get rid of her. Maybe if he killed her, you would come back to him. And maybe this time, you would never leave.

Kirby had given Ethan her number after everything that had happened. He was the only survivor. He had managed to pin all of the murders on Danny, and all of the cops seemed to believe him. Kirby didn’t want Ethan to be alone after all of this, so she gave him a way to contact her if he ever needed anything. He never planned on using it, not wanting to involve himself with the authorities anymore than he had to.

But now, he didn’t really have much of a choice. So he pulled his phone out and found her contact, pressing the call button.

“Kirby? It’s Ethan.”

I waited two or three days, four days ("Where is she?")

Waitin' for the "tap tap" like always

I waited and hated this (Tap, tap) ("Why isn't she comin' back?")

I created a bloody mess (Tap, tap) ("I fuckin' killed those people!")

Ethan knocked on the door of Kirby’s apartment, anxiously playing with his hands. He just wanted to get this over with. He couldn’t wait any longer to see you, and the thought that all he had to do was kill one more person to see you again made him more excited than he could ever remember being. All of this waiting would soon be over. And he could finally be yours. Forever.

Kirby opened the door and let Ethan inside. As soon as the door was locked and Kirby was facing the other way, Ethan pulled out his knife and tackled Kirby to the ground. He stabbed her in her scar, twisting the knife. She screamed in pain as blood poured out of her, trying to push Ethan off of her. But it was no use, Ethan was over a foot taller than her.

He pulled the knife out and then stabbed her again, over and over, creating a bloody mess. He was so angry, mostly at himself, for messing this up. For being kept from you for so long. So many feelings were stuck bottled up inside of him, and he was finally able to let them all out.

He pulled the knife out for the final time, and smiled as he stood up. Kirby was definitely dead by now, the majority of her blood now laying in a puddle beneath her. Ethan shoved his knife back inside his jacket pocket and turned around, walking out of the apartment and leaving the door open behind him.

When he got home, you would finally be there. Waiting for him.

I waited two or three months, four months

Waitin' for the "tap tap," just for once ("Where the fuck is she?!")

I waited and hated this (Tap, tap)

I created a bloody mess (Tap, tap) ("Why isn't she coming back?!")

Ethan practically ran into his room, excitement building up inside him. But you weren’t there. His room was still empty. He sighed, feeling deflated. He slammed his door shut behind him and walked over to his bed, sitting down on it.

Maybe he would just have to wait. The last time you were scared away, you showed up later than normal. So all he would have to do was wait. He knew you were going to be coming back, he was sure of it. He had done everything you had asked, and everything that you were going to tell him to do. There’s no way you weren’t going to show up now.

He stared at his window like always, waiting for you to show up. Minutes went by. Then it was hours. And before he knew it, the sun was up again. You still hadn’t shown up. Why hadn’t you shown up? What else did he have to do?

Ethan screamed in frustration as he laid back on his bed. Maybe you were never coming back. Had you ever even really been there in the first place? All this time, everything Ethan had been doing for you, had you just been a hallucination all this time?

He shook his head, pushing those thoughts away. There was no way you were just a hallucination. He had seen you. He had talked to you. He had felt you. You had to have been there. You had to have been real. Because if you weren’t, then Ethan did all of this for nothing. He killed his family for you. But if you weren’t real, then he lost his only family for nothing.

I waited two or three days, four days (Love)

Waitin' for the "tap tap" like always ("I can't believe I did it") (In my room)

I waited and hated this (Love)

I created a bloody mess ("I killed them!")(In my room, you and I)

Ethan had been spiraling hard since the day he killed Kirby. It had been a few days, and you still hadn’t shown up. He couldn’t tell what was real anymore. He didn’t know if you had really been there, or if you were just a hallucination. And the thought of that was driving him crazy.

He almost never left his room anymore. He couldn’t bring himself to. He didn’t want to miss you if you showed up. He was losing weight, and he was struggling to stay awake. But he couldn’t let himself miss you. Even if it destroyed him, Ethan would wait until you finally showed up again.

He didn’t want to admit it, but Ethan was losing it. He felt his mind begin to crack and reality slowly slipped away. He couldn’t tell what was real or fake anymore. He was hearing your voice all the time, but he still couldn’t see you. He was going insane, waiting for you to show up. The longer he waited, the less hope he had. He couldn’t bring himself to come to terms with the fact that you were probably never coming back. If you had ever even been there at all.

Ethan paced back and forth in his room, muttering to himself. He didn’t know what he was saying, he barely even knew what he was thinking. All he could bring himself to do was to stay in his room and wait. Sometimes he found himself forgetting what he was even waiting for. But he kept doing it, knowing deep down just how important it was. He just couldn’t bring himself to give up hope. He was going to see you again. He was sure of it.

I waited two or three months, four months (Love)

Waitin' for the "tap tap," just for once ("Where is she?!") (In my room)

I waited and hated this (Love)

I created a bloody mess (In my room, you and I)

Ethan’s hands shook as he sat on his bed, holding a gun inside his mouth. He couldn’t take it anymore. He was tired of waiting for you to show up, because he was beginning to doubt that you ever would. He had gotten so lost inside his head, waiting for you, that he let everything else in his life fall apart. He didn’t have any friends or family anymore, he had killed them all for you. He had missed so many classes that it would be pointless to try and catch up now.

His life had begun to revolve around you. You took up his every thought, filling his entire being. The longer he went without you, the more of himself he felt slip away. And now, there was nothing left. He was nothing anymore. He was just an empty shell. And it was all because of you.

His hands shook even more as he tried to get himself to pull the trigger. He pulled the gun out, sobbing as he began to shake even harder. He didn’t know if he would be able to do this. He looked down at the gun in his hand, the image becoming blurry from the tears in his eyes.

“Come on darling. I know you can do it.”

Ethan’s head shot up, as he desperately looked around for you. He couldn’t see you, but he had just heard you, he was sure of it. He heard your voice. Somehow, someway, he had heard you speaking to him.

“Just this one last thing. And then we can be together forever. Don’t you want that?”

Ethan slowly nodded his head. “Y-yes.”

“Good. So just put the gun in your mouth. And you can figure out the rest from there.”

Ethan did as you asked, his hands steadying. He brought the gun back up and placed it in his mouth again. He wasn’t afraid anymore. You wanted this. You wanted him to do this. And that was all the motivation he needed to finish this. The way he had intended.

“Come on baby. You can do it. I know you can.”

Ethan brought his finger to the trigger, readying himself to pull it. He slowed his breathing to calm himself down, and prepared himself for what he was about to do. Just a few more moments, and this would all be over. Ethan would finally be with you again. Forever.

“I’ll see you soon, my love.”

Ethan pulled the trigger.

Hey, man, let me get some of that

Yeah, uh, listen, I'm not a crackhead

When are y'all plannin' on buying me a cigarette

[roxygen22]

A sickly Wonka and Female reader taking care of him (after the events of the movie.)

Summary: Stand-alone prequel to MLCB series combined with an ask for a sick fic. How the reader met and fell in love with Willy. Instant chemistry! (Longer than intended, but I just couldn't stop)

C/W: Illness, though not graphic

<><><>

BOXES

"ACHOO!" You heard a loud sneeze in the alley followed by a crashing sound on your walk home from work. You peered around the corner of the building and spotted a lanky man with a fuschia coat and dark hair curling around the brim of his brown top hat looking down at the mess of boxes surrounding him on the ground.

"Are you alright, sir?" you asked.

He swirled around to look at you with a light pink blush spreading across his cheeks. "Oh, uh, yes. Thank you, Miss...?"

"[Y/N]."

"[Y/N]. What a lovely name. I'm [achoo!] Willy."

"I know who you are, Mr. Wonka," you said with a smile.

"Really?" he said in a surprised and equally nasal tone before sneezing again.

"You *are* quite the celebrity around here, sir. Do you need some help?" you asked, pointing to the boxes.

Willy looked around and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. Noticing that he didn't seem to be the type to easily ask for or accept help, you pried further. "Where are you trying to take them? I work at a shop nearby. We could borrow the cart."

"Really?"

"You say that a lot, don't you, Mr. Wonka." You giggled.

"Just Willy, please," he said softly. "I just need to get these boxes to my shop at the Galeries Gourmet. I thought I could get them all in one go, but well..." he trailed off as he gestured with his hands to the boxes on the ground.

"Well, Mr. Wonk...Willy. You stay here and gather your boxes, and I'll go grab the cart."

He flashed a big smile your way. "Thank you, miss."

"Just [Y/N], please," you parroted back with a slight blush. "I'll be right back." As you walked away, you heard him sneeze a couple more times before you were out of earshot. Poor thing sounds like he is coming down with a cold.

<><><>

By the time you returned, Willy had restacked the boxes so they were no longer blocking the alley. You both loaded the cart, but he took over pushing it toward his shop. "So why are you helping out a complete stranger, [y/n]? I do hope you aren't missing out on any big plans on my account."

"You aren't exactly a stranger, Willy. Everyone knows the famous magical chocolatier. But in that moment after you dropped your boxes, you looked just as human as the rest of us. I couldn't very well just pass you by and ignore you. Besides, this is far more exciting than anything I had planned this evening."

"Really?" [achoo]

"There you go again," you grinned. "Yes, really. The only plans I had were dinner and a book."

"Oh, you like to read? I like to read, too," Willy announced proudly. "I just meant...well, a pretty girl...lady...person like you...I mean, no, uh... there's nobody waiting for you at home?" he stammered.

"Are you asking if I am spoken for, Mr. Wonka?" you teased and unintentionally sent him into a coughing fit. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry. I was just joking. Are you okay?" You grabbed his arm in an attempt to stabilize him as he doubled over.

"I'm fine," Willy croaked as he stood back up. He looked down at your hand on his arm and smiled. Feeling suddenly bashful, you let go and clasped your hands behind your back.

"We should keep going, Willy. You need to get out of this cold air."

"Right you are, [y/n]. Your nose is turning the same shade as my coat!" he said with a grin as he booped your nose with his index finger. Warmth spread all over your body like electricity at his touch.

Recognizing that his actions may have been a touch too forward for a girl he just met (who never confirmed her availability), Willy cleared his throat in embarrassment and started to push the cart once more. You walked alongside, still dumbstruck by the effect of his touch.

"You didn't answer my question," he quipped after a few steps, breaking you out of your reverie.

"And what was that?" You knew what he was referring to but wanted to hear him say it again.

"Are you...[clears throat] is there anyone waiting for you at home?"

"Just my parents." If anyone else had asked you that, it may have been creepy. But you could sense his sincerity.

"Oh," he said with relief, though you could swear you saw a brief glint of...sadness? "Great, well I will have your cart freed up quickly so you can get home and not worry them."

"What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yes, is there anyone at home waiting on you? Perhaps a special someone?" You looked up into his eyes, unabashedly flirting. You noticed that underneath those lush dark lashes, his eyes were actually blue with a hint of green around the pupil. Huh. He's even more beautiful up close, you thought.

"No. It's just me and my shop."

"Oh," you mimicked his earlier response, trying to disguise your excitment that the magician/chocolatier was single. The two of you kept walking in companionable silence until you reached his shop.

<><><>

After unloading the cart, Willy swept the hat off his head and half-bowed to you. "Thank you again, [y/n]."

You giggled at the gesture. Not ready to call it a night just yet, you offered, "I could help you unpack those boxes, if you'd like. I know you aren't feeling 100% and really, I have nothing better to do." Besides thinking about him all evening, you said silently in your head.

Willy tried to stifle another cough. "Alright, sure. More hands makes lighter work."

You grabbed a box, sat in the floor, and started shuffling through its contents. You had no clue where anything went, so you started sorting like things together for Willy to put away. At one point your hand grazed his as you reached for the same item. You both blushed.

Clearing his throat - you were unsure whether this time was due to awkwardness or illness - he sat down on the other side of the box from you. He said, "So tell me about this book you are reading." It didn't take much prompting for you to excitedly recount what you had read so far of Treasure Island and your other favorite adventure books. In turn, he regaled you with tales from his time as a sailor.

Time passed very quickly as you swapped stories. Next thing you knew, it was dark out, and the two of you hadn't even fully unpacked the first box.

"Oh dear," you groused and stood up. "I should get going, Willy. My mother is probably pacing the floors."

"Since you stayed out late on my behalf, it's the least I could do to walk you home. If you'd allow me the pleasure." You noticed that all of the talking had made his voice sound hoarse and gravelly.

"You really ought to stay inside where it's warm. The cold will aggravate your cough."

"I wouldn't be able to rest wondering if you made it home safely in the dark," he said softly as he stood and brushed the dust off his pants.

You felt the heat flash across your cheeks as you blushed at his admission that he would be thinking of you after you leave. "Oh, well in THAT case, I would be honored to have you accompany me."

You both bundled back up into your respective coats and hats. As you suspected, Willy's cough worsened with the cold. As much as you would love to draw out this encounter, you don't want him in the cold air longer than he had to be. You quickly led him to your shop to return the cart before heading home.

Once you arrived, you both lingered at the front door. You stopped breathing as he took your hand and kissed it. "I'm glad I dropped those boxes, [y/n]," he said softly as he looked into your eyes.

It was your turn to stammer. "Me, too. I mean...I'm glad...I'm glad our paths crossed."

"Perhaps they can cross again soon?"

"I'd love that. I..." you were interrupted by Willy's sneeze. You couldn't help but laugh at his timing. "You, sir, need to go home, get warm, and take care of that cold." You smiled up at him.

"Yes, ma'am." He grinned.

You unlocked the front door and slipped inside. You leaned against the door and slowly released the breath you didn't realize you had been holding. You stared at the hand that he kissed, biting your lip to contain a squeal of excitement.

"Mom," you called out. "I'm home, and you're never going to believe the evening I've had!"

<><><>

You were off work the next day, so you decided to swing by Willy's shop in the morning to see how he was doing. You walked in and browsed the store, but he was nowhere to be seen. You started second guessing yourself, wondering if you were being too forward by dropping in the very next day, when you heard, "[y/n]?"

You spun around with excitement, but your face fell when you took in his unnatural pallor. "Oh Willy, you poor dear."

He started to speak, but was overcome by a hacking cough that sounded far worse than the night before.

"You should be at home resting."

"I can't. My store..."

"....seems to be running just fine at the moment. Besides, your customers may be wary of you coughing all over the chocolate." You crossed your arms and raised your eyebrow.

He smirked. "Touché." His voice was still raspy from the night before.

"Let me walk you home this time."

"I am quite capable..." [achoo]

"Oh, I know you're capable of getting there. I'm not convinced you're capable of leaving the shop without being dragged out."

"You know me so well in less than 24 hours," he said with a smile that reached his glassy eyes. "I suppose you are right [sniffle]. You have a knack for appearing at a time of need. One can't pour from an empty cup, I suppose. Let me get my things."

You waited out front has he gave instructions to the cashier and stocker. Once he joined you, he offered you his arm and you began walking toward his place. The trek was interrupted by multiple coughing fits, one of which left him breathless and needing a break on a bench.

"Is it okay if I feel your forehead?" you asked. Once he nodded, you gingerly rested your fingers against his head. "You are burning up, Willy. Let me know when you feel like you can stand again so we can get you home."

After a few moments, Willy rose from the bench. He offered you his arm again, but you suspected this time it was to balance himself more than a gentlemanly gesture.

Willy looked even more pale and clammy by the time you arrived at his home. He handed you his keys to unlock the door as he leaned against the frame for support. You opened the door and gently led him inside. You wouldn't normally enter the abode of a relative stranger, but he was all alone and you felt oddly safe with him.

He collapsed on his sofa as you set to work to make him comfortable. You dampened a cloth to set on his forehead, removed his boots, and covered him with a blanket. "Would you like me to make you some tea for your throat?" He nodded and pointed to the cabinet where he kept the tea leaves.

You got the kettle going and looked back to observe the man. Was he asleep already? You tiptoed over to check. Sure enough, he had dozed off. Feeling that sleep was probably more necessary than tea, you turned off the stove.

Unsure of what to do, but having no desire to leave him in this state, you sat in the armchair next to Willy and passed the time by reading a book from his small collection. After about two hours, he started to stir. He looked around confused before he saw you and smiled.

"[Y/N], you stayed."

"Of course. Could you imagine the uproar if I let something happen to our town's infamous chocolatier? I would be cast out." You grinned. "How are you feeling?"

"A little better." His voice sounded a little less strained than earlier. That was a good sign.

"Good. I'll make you that tea now." But before you could make your way to the kitchen, Willy grabbed your hand.

"Thank you for staying and taking care of me, both yesterday and today. You hardly even know me."

"We can fix that."

"Really?"

You smiled, rolled your eyes, and went back to making tea.

<><><>

Masterlist

[7s3ven]

BUY ME PRESENTS. harry potter

( master list )

IN WHICH… Y/N L/N’s situationship, Matteo Riddle, isn’t the best boyfriend material and when he forgets to buy her a Christmas present, she finally breaks it off. Luckily, she knows someone who’ll do everything Matteo didn’t.

“Some guys get the girl everybody wants and forget she’s still the girl everybody wants.”

MERRY CHRISTMAS GUYS! - 25/12/2023

Warning: Matteo and Y/N kinda swear a lot, oh well

“It's a packed holiday and I got options, babe. If you don't wanna buy me presents. Drink me like a warm glass of milk

If you're not gonna race here from the North Pole to Beverly Hills. Just to keep my stocking filled. Well, I know somebody who will.”

—

Christmas and winter was a big deal at Hogwarts. Long strings of tinsel littered the stone hallways and shiny, delicate ornaments were hung up everywhere.

A H/C-haired girl rocked back and forth on her heels as she waited outside the Slytherin common room. She sighed, clicking her tongue. “What’s taking him so long?” She whispered under her breath.

Matteo was usually one to be late, but not on important days. Today was Christmas for goodness sake, Y/N’s favorite holiday.

Finally, the door to the common room slid open and Matteo walked out. His white shirt was messily tucked into his pants and the top few buttons were undone, irking Y/N who always looked perfect.

“Yo, Clarisse said you wanted to talk to me. Shoot.” Matteo shoved his hands into his pockets while Y/N lightly scoffed.

“Did you forget what day it is?” She questioned, arching an eyebrow. If the present in her hand didn’t give it away then she didn’t know what else would.

“Monday?”

“It’s Christmas, Matteo.” Y/N uttered, “Does that jog your memory?”

“Oh, yeah. I just woke up so I’m still dazed.”

Y/N could smell the cigarette smoke in his breath. “Or stoned. Why are you still smoking? You know how I hate it.”

Matteo carelessly shrugged. “It relieves stress, babe. I am quitting. Just give me like, two more months and I’ll be done.”

Y/N bit back a snarky retort. He always said he was quitting but he never actually did. “Well, anyway, I got you a gift. Merry Christmas, Matt.” She held the box up, smiling.

Matteo slowly took it. He opened the lid, his eyebrows raising at what was inside. “You got me… something from Vivienne Westwood?” It was clear that Matteo wasn’t as rich as his Slytherin friends were. With no parents or caretaker, all he could do was leech off people.

“It’s a lighter. You never light the candles in your room, which is… weird because that’s what they’re for. But, I guess you can use it to light cigars too. I also overheard Draco complaining about how he doesn’t have that but wants it. You can fit in with your friends with it.” Y/N shrugged.

“Jeez. This must’ve cost a lot.” Matteo held the lighter in his hand, whistling at how it shined. “Fucking hell.”

“Hey, Matty, we’re gonna open presents. You joining us?” A slim blond girl peeked her head out of the common room, grinning. “I got you a real good present this time.”

“You’re too sweet, Lina. I’ll be in a minute. I think you’ll like your present too.” Matteo chuckled before he glanced back at Y/N. “What are you still doing here?”

“What? No present for me?” Y/N said it in a joking manner to hide the pit she felt in her stomach.

“Why would I get you something?”

Y/N lightly scoffed. “I don’t know, Matteo. Maybe because we’ve been seeing each other for the past year?”

“Hey. We haven’t been seeing each other. I just find you when I want a good fuck. Know your place, Y/N. It’s not like we’re dating.”

Y/N sharply clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Right.” She sarcastically smiled, “What was I thinking? My place is obviously to be at your beck and call. My apologies for the mixup. Have a good day, Matteo.”

Y/N spun around, walking away. She heard Matteo laugh in disbelief and one part of her wished he would run after her and hand her a gift. He didn’t. He strutted back into the Slytherin chamber and back to those insufferable girls.

Y/N sat on the stairs amongst the green, red, and white decorations, staring at the ground. She was clad in a short black and white fur blazer and a skirt. Fleece leggings lined her legs, keeping her warm, and she had her Ravenclaw scarf wrapped around her neck.

She lightly sniffled, playing with a silver bracelet her friend had given to her as an early present. She wasn’t too sure what she was upset about right now.

Perhaps it was because she was lonely in the Ravenclaw common room. Everybody was gone, not even her study partner had stayed behind this year. Or maybe it was because of a certain brown-haired boy who was as heartless and oblivious as always.

It was most likely the latter.

Y/N wanted to feel happy, especially since today was Christmas, a holiday she enjoyed a little too much. But with no friends to laugh with, no family to return to, and not even a boy to sit next to the fire with, she felt sad.

“Are you actually crying?”

Y/N hadn’t even noticed Matteo approach her until it was too late. At least he had thought twice before leaving her alone.

He stood in front of her, fiddling with the multiple rings that adorned his long fingers. “Seriously, Y/N? Just because I didn’t get you a Christmas gift?”

Y/N glared up at him. “Can you try being nice for one second? Who knows, you might like it.” Throughout the whole year, Matteo and Y/N had something going on. They were never in a confirmed relationship but they weren’t merely friends either.

Though, in the past few months, the two couldn’t seem to stop bantering.

“Look, I’ll get you a gift tomorrow. Happy?”

Y/N quietly scoffed as she stood up. “No. You always forget things like these, Matteo. It’s getting annoying.” Y/N turned around to walk up the stairs but she barely took two steps before Matteo grabbed her wrist.

“Where are you going? I thought we were going to spend Christmas together.”

Y/N tauntingly raised an eyebrow at Matteo. “You were giving me the silent treatment up until now. I had to bribe that girl, Clair or whatever her name was, to let me see you.”

“Her name is Clarisse.” Matteo corrected her.

Y/N stared at him, wondering how he thought it was a good time to correct her. “What? I’m trying to make a point here and you’re concerned about her name? Unbelievable. Maybe I should find some people who actually enjoy my presence.”

Matteo sneered. “So, what? You just gonna go back to that Potter boy? You’re leading him on, Y/N. We both know your heart belongs to me.”

“Belonged.” Y/N corrected him, “Past tense. This thing we have between us is done. I’m not going to be a stupid late night call for you anymore.” She forced Matteo to let go of her and walked away, ignoring his shouts that echoed around the corridors.

“I taught you everything! I taught you how to stand up for yourself! I made you popular! I practically created you from nothing!” Matteo angrily exclaimed at the bottom of the steps. “You can’t leave me!”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder at the enraged brunette. She smiled. “Watch me.”

The last thing Y/N heard Matteo say was when he furiously shouted her name, his booming voice showcasing his fiery rage.

Y/N knocked against the Gryffindor painting, sighing. The Fat Lady seemed to notice her mood.

“What happened this time?” She asked. Matteo and Y/N were no secret; they were the talk of the school with Matteo being Voldemort’s son and Y/N’s cousin being a death-eater. A year ago, it was even rumoured she was one herself.

Y/N stared up at the Fat Lady with teary eyes. “Matteo. I… broke it off with me.”

“Oh, honey, I know it may not seem like it now, but it was the right decision.”

Y/N softly smiled. “I know… I know.”

“Are you here to see the Potter boy?”

“Yes. Is he here?” Y/N wasn’t even sure if Harry was at Hogwarts. During second year, he had gone to stay with Ron.

“Of course. And the Weasley boy and the Granger girl. They’re all here.” The Fat Lady swung backwards, smiling, “Go on, dear.”

Y/N stepped into the Gryffindor common room, looking around. “Harry? Hello? Anybody here?” The room was empty. Y/N glanced over at the crackling fire and went to sit beside it, warning her cold hands.

She quietly clicked her tongue, staring at the blazing flames.

“Y/N?” Hermione questioned, walking up behind the H/C-nette, “What’s wrong?” Y/N quickly stood up, embracing her brown-haired friend into a tight hug.

“I did it.” She whispered, “I ended things with Matt- I mean, Riddle.”

“Oh… Are you feeling okay?” Hermione gently sat Y/N down on the couch, rubbing comforting circles into her back. “Do you want anything? Any water or food?”

Y/N stared at her hands. “Is… Harry here?”

“Yeah. I’ll get him.” Hermione stood up and went to fetch the boy. “She and Matteo broke things off.” She whispered in Harry’s ear, which sent a rush of excitement through the brunette. He never did like Matteo after all. He was a playboy to put it simply. Not only that, but for the longest time Harry had liked Y/N.

Matteo didn’t appreciate her but Harry did. He could treat her better than Matteo ever could.

“Hermione told me what happened. Are you okay?” Harry sat down beside Y/N, holding a neatly wrapped present. He heard Y/N heave a sigh.

“I think… I mean, obviously I’m a little sad but it feels good knowing I won’t have to deal with his annoying ass again.” Y/N uttered, eliciting a small amused chuckle out of Harry.

“Yeah… I got you something, by the way.” Harry handed the gift over to Y/N with shaking hands.

“Oh… that’s sweet. You didn’t have to.” She smiled, carefully unwrapping the present.

“I wanted to… you said that was your favorite book so I bought you the limited edition cover one… with a bit more.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows in confusion as Harry. She slowly opened the novel to a page tabbed with a (favorite color) sticker note.

Merry Christmas, Y/N. Thank you for being such a loyal fan throughout my career.

- Your favorite author

Underneath the short message was the writer’s signature as well as a polaroid picture of Harry and the author.

“Oh my gosh… how did you… what…” Y/N was at a loss for words as she turned to Harry and tightly hugged him. “I don’t have a present for you… I’m sorry.”

Harry smiled as Y/N pulled away. “It’s fine. Having you here makes up for it.”

“Are you sure?” Y/N furrowed her brows, “I can buy you something tomorrow. Or I’m sure I have a have a golden snitch lying around here somewhere.” Y/N pulled a snitch from out of her pocket, “Remember this, Harry? You almost choked to death on it in your first game.”

“What the… how did you…” Harry was as flabbergasted as Y/N now. She laughed, handing it over to him.

“Well, after you almost swallowed it, nobody really wanted to play with it anymore. So I asked Wood to get it for me. We spent a good time cleaning it.”

Harry chuckled, staring at the small golden ball in awe. “That’s… amazing. Jeez. Riddle really doesn’t deserve you.”

Y/N’s shoulders visibly shrunk at the mentioning of the brunette’s name.

“Oh…” Harry instantly noticed, “Sorry, too soon?”

Y/N silently shook her head. “No… I’m fine…” She turned her head, beaming at Harry with a smile that made him melt. “You’re right, he didn’t deserve me. Thank you for the book, Harry. It’s wonderful.”

She embraced him once again and Harry could feel his cheeks heat up at the contact. There was a small jingle and as Y/N lifted her head, she couldn’t help but laugh.

Mistletoe floated above the pair, jingling as if to remind the two it was there. Harry gazed over Y/N’s shoulder at Ron, who held his wand in one hand and was giving Harry a thumbs up with the other.

“It’d be rude to defy the rules of Christmas, especially with how much you love it.” Harry uttered.

Y/N laughed again. “I suppose so.”

“You don’t have to kiss me for real. You can kiss me on the cheek or something or”- Harry was cut off when Y/N grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him forward and kissing him.

Harry was the complete opposite of Matteo. The Slytherin boy was rough and uncaring while Harry was soft and gentle. The brunette with glasses carefully grasped Y/N’s hands, squeezing them tightly.

“I don’t know if this is too soon, Y/N.” Harry said as he pulled away slightly. “But, I like you. I’ve liked you for ages. Ever since first year. And the only reason I didn’t like Riddle was because I hated how he had managed to attract your attention. I think you’re wonderful and you shouldn’t be stuck with someone like Riddle. You don’t have to give me your answer now… but just consider it.”

Y/N gazed at Harry, her heart doing flips in her chest. This was a feeling she hadn’t felt in a long time. She shyly adverted her eyes. “I… I don’t know what to say Harry. I think I like you too… but I feel like it’s too soon.”

“I don’t mind waiting. I just need you to know that I’m willing to race here from the North Pole to Beverly Hills. Just to keep your stocking filled.”

Y/N giggled. “That’s cute, Harry.” She leaned forward, pressing another chaste kiss to his lips. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”

START OF TERM (BONUS)…

“What the fuck, asshole?!” Matteo’s loud shout caused the Great Hall to fall into silence. They all watched as he stormed towards the Gryffindor table, slamming his hands in front of Harry. “You kissed my girl!” He exclaimed.

Y/N turned her head, staring at Matteo with furrowed eyebrows.

“What’s going on?” Her friend tugged on her sleeve.

“I’m… not sure.” Y/N replied, craning to get a better look.

“What are you talking about, Riddle?” Harry asked, confused.

“You know who the fuck I’m talking about! Y/N fucking L/N! You kissed her!” Matteo was getting angrier by the second.

“Hey, dude, relax.” Lorenzo grabbed Matteo by the shoulders, forcing him out of the Great Hall. The rest of his friend group followed.

Y/N sighed, standing up. “I’m going to talk to Matteo.” She announced.

“What? Are you crazy?” Her friend tried to get Y/N to sit back down again.

“He deserves an explanation… and I also want to make it clear that we’re no longer a thing.” Y/N followed after the Slytherin gang and jogged to walk beside Pansy, who was lagging behind.

“What’s gotten into him?” Y/N questioned Pansy, who seemed to like her the best out of all the girls Matteo hooked up with.

“I don’t know.” Pansy sighed, “He just started acting mental after he found out you and Potter were going out. But, he doesn’t really deserve to be mad when it’s his fault.”

“Matt, dude, what’s gotten into you?” Theodore asked as Matteo silently seethed.

“I fucking hate Potter.” He uttered through gritted teeth. He looked up, spotting Y/N. Instantly, the fire in his eyes disappeared.

“Riddle.” Y/N greeted him calmly, nodding her head in acknowledgment. “There seems to be a misunderstanding.”

“Why did you kiss Potter?” Matteo demanded, clenching his hands into fists.

“Why can’t I? I’m free to do whatever I want. After all, it’s not like we’re dating, right? You said it yourself.”

Matteo angrily exhaled.

“Besides, what are you gonna do? Are you gonna kill me, Matteo?” Y/N taunted. “Like you said last year because you didn’t want to commit to someone? Instead of committing to a girl, you would rather kill her?”

“It was a joke!”

“Jokes are supposed to be funny! Fuck you, Matteo! You piece of shit!”

Matteo, in a surge of rage, grabbed Y/N by the collar. Lorenzo stepped forward to interrupt the situation, but Harry beat him to it.

“Don’t touch her.” Harry glowered at Matteo as he pulled Y/N away from his grasp. “You made your choice. Deal with it because it’s your fault you lost Y/N in the first place.”

Y/N sighed, brushing the wrinkles out of her blouse. “I hope we can talk again under better circumstances, Riddle. Good day.”

Y/N walked off and Harry followed close behind.

“How good did that feel?” He questioned, grinning.

“It felt amazing!” Y/N grinned, “I can’t believe I just sweared at the Matteo Riddle and got away with it.”

“So, what do you say we have some fruitcakes and figgy pudding to celebrate?” Harry slung an arm around Y/N’s shoulder while she playfully scoffed.

“It’s January, Harry.”

“Yeah? So? It’s never too early to celebrate Christmas.”

[rottenpumpkin13]

What is ASG +ZC personal style?

Zack: His entire aesthetic is aimed at looking cool, but keeping his clothes easy to move around in. He's a fan of leather jackets, sleeveless shirts, baggy pants, fitted tees, and combat boots. He wears his dog tag as an accessory likes fingerless gloves. He used to always wear his favorite pair of old sneakers until Angeal had him throw them out.

Genesis: What happened to your sneakers?

Zack: Angeal happened! He made me throw them out. They weren't even that bad!

Angeal, from the other room: THEY SMELLED LIKE SEWAGE. YOU TOOK YOUR SHOES OFF IN FRONT OF CLOUD AND HE FAINTED. SEPHIROTH APPROACHED TO HELP, COULDN'T HANDLE THE STENCH, AND WRAPPED HIS HAIR AROUND HIS NOSE.

Sephiroth: Minimalist, lots of black and dark shades with the occasional splash of silver here and there. He's very comfort over style, however he does have style elements to his wardrobe that he enjoys adding that oftentimes lean towards goth fashion; long coats, button-ups, black leather, fingerless gloves, and turtlenecks (ironically). Genesis got him a mesh top as a gag, which he has worn a few times "purely because it's comfortable" (or so he claims). That being said, he will choose sweatpants and one of Angeal's hoodies over all of that any day.

*Sephiroth is wearing all black*

Zack: Woah! Hehe. Who died?

Sephiroth, confused: Professor Gast, my mother, Glenn Lodbrok, Rosen, [he keeps going]

Zack: .......

Angeal: "Casual and comfortable" is what he calls it, "a cross between a hippie, a dad, and a wannabe musician" is what Genesis lovingly dubs it as. He keeps a flannel tied at his waist in case he or someone he's with gets cold, he likes to reuse old band tees by cutting them out and fashioning them into torn muscle shirts, and if you leave a white article of clothing out for too long and don't use it, Angeal will tie-dye it. He likes black jeans and jean jackets. He would wear more hoodies, but....

*Angeal walks into the room*

Angeal: Has anyone seen my hoodies?

Zack, wearing hoodie #1: Nope!

Genesis, wearing hoodie #2: Not that I recall.

Cloud, wearing hoodie #3: I wonder what happened to them.

Sephiroth, wearing hoodies #4, #5, and #6: Perhaps you misplaced them.

Angeal: Oh my god.

Cloud: He chooses his clothes based on maneuverability and how easy they are to fight in, but there are specific style choices he makes, such as preferring all black over color, wolf emblems, and loose clothing if he can help it. He doesn't like jackets, claiming that since he came from a cold mountain region, he doesn't get cold easily.

*Cloud isn't wearing a coat*

Zack: Are you sure you're not cold?

Cloud: Of course not. I grew up in Nibelheim. This kind of weather is summer over there.

Zack: Your arms are blue.

Cloud: It's a fashion choice.

Zack: You're shaking.

Cloud: No, I'm trembling in excitement.

Zack: What are you excited for?

Cloud: FOR THEM TO TURN THE DAMN A/C OFF.

Genesis: It depends on the month, weather, his horoscope, and his mood. If you send Genesis into his overflowing closet, he'll either walk out looking like a 19th century poet, an English professor, head to toe designer labels, or as if he's about to walk the runway. True to his fanclub name, he loves red leather and tries to incorporate it into each of his looks, all of which have red as the main color. He's praised by his fans for his style, meaning he has a certain appearance to maintain, which often makes him highly fashion-conscious. He disregards traditional gender norms when selecting his clothing, and he likes to experiment with makeup.

*After spending two hours selecting a look, Genesis walks out with a button-up that has a heart cutout on his chest*

Genesis: I'm ready.

Sephiroth: Your chest is exposed. Are you aware of that?

Genesis: Yes, I—

Sephiroth: Whore.

Genesis: