#( anyways i hope to get back here sooner or later i promise )

[feline-evil]

I can't think of anything that could kill a generative ai system faster than letting it pull from blogs on here, its going to be fed so many erroneous callouts and pointless discourse posts that its gonna generate a way to speedrun offing itself

[bunnybubae]

☔This and more

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: One Shot - Established Relationship - Slice of Life - Fluff - Smutty Smut 

Summary: Your weekend at the beach seems to be completely ruined, but luckily, your boyfriend Jeon Jungkook is ready to change everything. 

Warnings: A delicious lunch and a drink at home, they call each other bubi and baby, Bf&Gf shenanigans,✨surprises✨, overall a tooth rotting piece of fluff served with a side of hot steamy smut *wink wink*, the end ❤️

Smut Warnings: Lots of steamy kisses, teasing, love bites, actual bites, dirty talking, worshiping, fingering, oral (F receiving), brief blowjob, rough sex, unprotected sex (she takes the pill), cum on breasts, love making 💓, creampie

Wc: 5.6k 

A/N:  Hiii!🫣I know I should be working on the Red Light series, I promise it's wip and will come to life sooner or later, but I miss my boyfriend who's traveling for work and the weather is shit over here... I had this idea in my docs and I just felt inspired to finally write it. I hope you like it! 🥺 - Joy 🐰

The sun is scorching and the sky is always clear. People wear light clothes and have fun outside. This is summer, right?

Wrong.

Not this weekend at least, since the weather forecast predicted heavy rain until Sunday.

This weekend, in which you had plans with your boyfriend and your friends to spend it at the beach, with tents, lots of food and beach games. Everything ruined, since the first thunder that rumbled.

You wouldn't have been so upset about it if it weren't for the fact that work has been a living hell lately and that you really were looking forward to this outdoor weekend. Even if it was only for a few days, you really wanted to regenerate and disconnect from everything work related.

The sky is so gray, almost black, like your mood right now.

It's Saturday morning and usually, you and Jungkook leave shortly after breakfast to go grocery shopping, when, presumably, there are less people and it is easier to find what you need for the week. As if the bad weather wasn't badding enough, something seems to have hurt your boyfriend, who reluctantly told you that he can't come with you.

You sigh deeply, it couldn't go worse, you think, but maybe it's just your bad mood's fault for these thoughts.

You worry about Jungkook as you look for a spot in the supermarket parking lot. You text him once you find one, asking if he needs medicine or anything else for his stomachache, but he reassures you shortly after, replying that some lactic ferments will do the job.

You continue to stare at his response on the screen thoughtfully, maybe last night's fried chicken was too spicy?

Anyway, the temperature has dropped a lot because of the weather. You put on one of Jungkook's sweatshirts and get ready by putting the hood on before going out to reach the supermarket.

You spend about a couple of hours inside, looking for everything you had on your list.

As you’re about to reach the checkout, with a full cart and the only desire to go home, your phone rings.

It’s a text from Jungkook.

Bubi ❤️: “Bubi could you please buy some fresh mint and lemons while u'r out?”

You check his request a second time, not too sure you understand.

You stop in your tracks, frowning as you type a response.

You: “What do you need them for?”

You watch the chat and his name as it appears and disappears shortly after, waiting for his response, which comes a few moments later.

Bubi❤️: “I read somewhere that making tea with mint and lemon helps calm a stomach ache and I wanna try.”

You're not too convinced but It makes sense, if you think about it.

You reply that you'll get mint and lemons and that you'll go to the pharmacy before you head back home.

It’s almost lunchtime when you park the car in front of the apartment complex where you live.

The rain shows no signs of ceasing, continuing to pound on the windshield of the car. 

When you’re about to get out to grab the groceries from the trunk, you see your boyfriend come out of the front door of the building and reach to your car door with a little jog.

He’s holding an open umbrella in his hand and when he opens the car door to let you out, he smiles widely.

“What are you doing out here?!”

“Let’s carry everything to the elevator together,”

And with that, he leaves a tender kiss on your forehead, a little damp from the rain.

You had forgotten your umbrella at home, despite his warnings. Too caught up in the greyness of your mood, evidently.

Once you have emptied your trunk and reached the elevator with the grocery bags in hand, you sigh loudly. A little tired from the weight of the bags and a little guilty for your state of mind.

He's always so helping and sweet and you have been quite intractable since yesterday. You feel the need to apologize to him.

Jungkook looks at you in silence, a slight smile on his lips as he plays with the piercing of his lip with his tongue.

"I'm sorry, bubi..." You break the silence, taking him by surprise.

"Mh? For what?"

You watch him as you explain why you really needed this weekend away to rest and relax a bit.

Jungkook nods, listening to you until your elevator ride stops at your floor.

"I know baby, don't worry."

The elevator's doors slide open.

It seems he wants to say something else, but he picks up the bags instead and starts to walk towards the front door of your apartment.

You follow him with the bags in your hand, feeling a little lighter and determined not to ruin this weekend any further.

Jungkook opens the door, gets rid of his shoes in the blink of an eye, leaving them near the shoe rack before running towards the kitchen. You don't understand what's gotten into him all of a sudden and when you enter, you put the bags down next to you to take off your shoes and tidy up his too.

When Jungkook returns a few moments later, he picks up your discarded bags too and rushes into the kitchen with them.

"What are you doing?"

You know very well that your boyfriend has these energetic outbursts from time to time, like the good golden retriever boyfriend he is.

He doesn't answer, instead you see him come back towards you, slightly out of breath.

“Ook, so,” He begins, catching his breath.

“I know this weekend at the beach meant a lot to you, especially after spending the last 3 months working non-stop,” 

His hands find yours and squeeze gently as he guides you through the small hallway of your entryway.

“And I know how much you need this, so,” He pauses, making you stop your tracks right in front of him as well.

“I’m sorry I made you go grocery shopping alone with this weather.”

He moves aside, allowing you to see what he was trying to hide behind his back.

The couch has been moved against the wall, the big carpet is adorned with countless children's toys, the classic ones for digging or making shapes in the sand and you notice an inflatable ball and some beach towels hidden under a beach umbrella.

The living room didn't seem that big, yet everything seems to fit in effortlessly. 

You don't know what to say exactly, you observe everything with wide eyes and open mouth as Jungkook continues his speech.

"I know it's not the same thing, but-" You don't even give him time to finish the sentence, that your lips crash against his, your hands holding his face still as you kiss his mouth softly.

Initially surprised, Jungkook gives in in a split second, wrapping his arms around your small figure.

You let him hold you as a few tears threaten to escape your eyes.

You part from his lips just for a moment. 

"So you didn't have diarrhea," And with that, you both burst into laughter in each other's arms as a small tear rolls down your face for the gratitude.

You are truly touched by the effort he put into it, by the love that hides such a gesture.

The laughter stops and your eyes lock. Jungkook caresses your cheek, wiping away that small, solitary tear.

"Thank you, babe..." Your tone is sweet and full of love and gratitude for him.

"This and more for you,"

He grabs one of your hands that are still holding his face and brings it to his lips, he kisses your knuckles with such delicacy before he moves away from you.

"Anyway, you don't look like you're dressed for the beach, why don't you go change while I sort out the groceries?"

You look down at yourself and giggle, even though it's not that hot, the idea of ​​indulging in this little indoor beach is thrilling, you nod, telling him he's right, then you turn around, heading to your bedroom.

"No! Wait!"

Jungkook suddenly exclaims, making you stop in your tracks.

"I moved the bag you had packed to the bathroom, so you can change right there!"

"Oh okay, I'll take the chance to take a quick shower, then."

You reach the bathroom, getting ready to shower before you could finally wear your new bikini.

During your shower you can't help but smile at the idea that you're about to spend some time at the beach, without the beach, and the sun, and the sea. It's amusing. 

Once cleaned and smelling nice, you put on your lilac bikini and its matching beach dress, fix your hair a bit and go back to the living room.

You don't remember seeing the TV on when you came in, but the sound of the waves envelopes you immediately. 

On the TV, a high definition video of the waves lapping the beach repeats over and over and it's yet another detail that makes you smile. Jungkook has really thought of everything.

He's not in the living room, though.

You walk towards the kitchen, smelling something nice as you near the door.  When you enter, you find your shirtless sexy boyfriend in front of the stove as he cooks something. 

"Damn, that smells good," The kitchen is filled with the smell of fresh fish and lemon, it's so mouth-watering.

"That's what you needed the lemon for!"

You giggle as you approach him from behind, wrapping your arms around his hips and leaving a light kiss on his shoulder as you watch his movements.

"I just watched a tutorial, I hope it turns out good."

He moves in your arms, turning around so he can observe your figure.

He hums delighted by what he sees.

The swimsuit hugs your curves perfectly and the beach dress semi-transparent fabric allows Jungkook to admire and go wild in his mind, with that see-through effect that makes him crazy.

You know exactly what's going through his mind right now. You can read it in his expression.

Despite the many years of relationship with him, the passion and attraction between you has always been strong, never faltering.

Jungkook has always worshiped your body in every possible way. 

And his carnal gaze, which gently caresses your curves, is proof of that.

It's unbelievable how one single look from him is enough to make you feel like the most beautiful thing in this world.

“You like it?”

You ask innocently, spinning around so he can look at beautiful ass as well.

He hums in agreement, “It’ll look great on the floor later.”

And it’s not the phrase that makes your legs feel weak, but the tone of his voice. Warm and provocative, just the way you like it.

He steals a kiss that’s way too innocent to justify the burning sensation in your belly, before turning his attention back to the stove.

“You should cook shirtless more often,” 

You try to speak, trying to sound unaffected, while your hands nonchalantly caress his pecs from behind, going down to his abs.

He chuckles softly, perfectly knowing what you're up to.

You love every single detail of his body. You swear you know by heart every groove and bump and yet the intensity of your yearning surprises you every time.

You sigh, trapping your lip between your teeth, unable to stop your hands from free roaming on his soft skin.

He is so addicting.

"Y/N.." Your name leaves his lips accompanied by a deep breath.

Your hands have the same effect that his skin has on you.

"What?"

You ask, not missing the contractions of his muscles under your touch when your hands tease his belly, just above the waistband of his swimsuit.

Jungkook turns off the stove and pushes the food away.

Then he turns around, and his face is now a few inches from yours.

In one quick and agile movement, he picks you up, letting your legs circle his bare waist. 

A deep breath escapes your mouth as his chest touches yours and a second later you're sitting on the countertop, its coldness briefly soothing your heat.

"You can't do that while I'm cooking,"

He lets out, then he urgently dives forward, peppering the thin skin of your neck with languid kisses..

You almost moan at the touch. 

"Why not,"

You ask, hoping your voice doesn't sound too desperate right now.

"Cause I'd have to fuck you hard and quick, right here on this countertop,"

You tilt your head backwards, allowing him to do as he pleases with your neck.

"And,"

He pauses, licking a long, slow stripe, from your collarbone to the skin below your earlobe.

"Even tho I know how much you love to be fucked like that,"

He softly kisses your jawline, then whispers right to your ear and your insides turn into boiling lava.

"I want to take my time with you, I want to taste you and savor every drop of your juice when I make you come."

His hands are nowhere on your body, you're only trapped between his arms that keep his weight slightly lean on you. And yet, your skin feels so hot, like his voice and words are washing the last bit of sanity away, leaving goosebumps all over you.

You gulp, unable to speak as you try to calm your breathing.

You love this man, you think you never stopped crushing over him, you're a total mess right now, by only his words and kisses on the neck.

"Fuck baby.."

You manage to say, even though your voice sounds strained.

"Be patient, yeah?"

And just like that, the magic is over.

He frees you, leaving your body hot and bothered just like that.

You whine a little, a sound that makes him chuckle darkly, probably proud of the effect he still has on you. 

You're a tad bit annoyed, you're not gonna lie, but the excitement for what's to come prevails.

After having lunch with some delicious lemony fish, you and Jungkook decide to enjoy some relaxation lying on the beach towels placed on the floor in front of the TV. The mint cocktails you made earlier rest next to you, while some music plays casually from your phone.

You have to admit that the whole vibe is working very well, you don't even miss the sand and the smell of saltiness in the air. Everything feels just right, with the man you love by your side.

The apartment isn't that big, but everything Jungkook has prepared for the theme seems to fit perfectly, without being too bulky.

You take a moment to observe your surroundings, while sipping your drink every now and then.

You notice that there is enough space between the towels and the television, so you decide to grab the Nintendo Switch from its dock, and place it in front of you.

"Wanna play?"

Jungkook, who seems far too relaxed on his towel, is drawn in by your playful tone, he smiles nodding before grabbing a pair of joycons.

"What do you wanna play?"

You think for a moment, as you scroll through the games you have, undecided between Just Dance, volleyball, which might be the most suitable for the beach mood, or WarioWare, which as stupid as it is, never fails to make you laugh.

"We could play some volleyball to begin with, what do you say?"

"I'm down,"

You make some space and strap your joy con, just to be sure you don't crash anything while playing.

The games go smoothly and match after match and sip after sip of your drinks, you grow dizzier. 

By the time you start playing Wario Ware, you both are a laughing mess, seeing your boyfriend copy those funny poses is the highlight of the day.

Your cheeks are hurting from the laugh and you don't even know what time it is while the rain keeps pouring outside.

The sound of sporadic thunder is a soft reminder that what is going on outside, doesn't bother you at all. 

Especially now, embraced in your boyfriend's arms, skin to skin, as the center of your living room becomes the center of your world.

He kisses you, ever so gently, as his mouth moves with yours in a dance they know oh so well.

You bet his lips shared some secrets with yours as when you part from each other for a moment, you both smile fondly. As if no words are needed.

The way he's looking at you makes you feel so lucky.

You feel so precious when he touches you, so cherished.

His hands are so tender and attentive, he outlines your sides, pushing his body to yours as if it was possible to feel you even closer.

The game is long forgotten as you share another kiss, less innocent than the previous one.

Your hands bravely caress his shoulders and nape before intertwining with some soft locks.

Some music is still playing from your phone, thrown somewhere on the carpet when suddenly, As Long As You Love Me by Justin Bieber starts playing. 

A pretty old song, but you remember you saved the acoustic version a long time ago, when you two weren't even a thing.

It couldn't be more apt for this moment in time, you think.

Your smile breaks the kiss and even though you feel your head a little heavy from the alcohol, you start singing.

He watches you fondly, swinging with you in his arms to the rhythm as he begins to sing the song with you.

His voice is heaven, you always told him that and he likes to sing for you. Although the shower or the car are his favorite stages most of the time.

You keep singing your heart out, pouring all your love in the lyrics as your gaze gets lost in his.

You've always been the sensitive type, especially in this kind of situation.

Your boyfriend seems as affected as you, though.

His gaze is glimmering and his embrace is tighter than before.

The song slowly but surely comes toward its end when Jungkook softly leans forward, whispering the last phrase right on your lips.

Your heart feels like it's about to burst in your chest and a moment later you're kissing him, like your life depends on it.

He lets you kiss him, lets you taste his tongue and maybe it's the alcohol, maybe the whole vibe, but you end up sprawled on the beach towels, kissing each other's brains out.

The beach umbrella, placed open on the ground for obvious reasons, offers some sort of shield from the artificial light of the lamp. The light filters through the colored material, leaving a soft hue of colors on your bodies.

You don't know where your beach dress has been thrown, the only thing in your mind right now, is your boyfriend's kisses.

He prints wet kisses all over your body and you feel like you're burning.

You breathe heavily, concentrating on the sensations of his lips on your abdomen.

"So fucking pretty,"

He states, seemingly out of breath. You shiver in pleasure as your heart skips a beat.

His hands reach your bikini bottom and you almost moan shamelessly as he asks,

"Are you already wet for me, baby?"

Then he pushes your bikini aside, not waiting for your answers, wanting to find out himself.

"Fuck, yes"

It's the only phrase that leaves your gaping mouth as he swipes his fingers between your legs.

You can feel the stickiness of your bikini and his breath right in front of your core.

"Want me to make you even wetter?

A soft yes leaves your lips, barely audible.

"Speak up, baby,"

It's a lewd scene, your legs are wide open in front of him and Jungkook is palming himself with his free hand. His swimming trunks are an uncomfortable obstacle but it's something he'll deal with later.

His attention is only focused on you right now.

"Kook-"

You moan as his wet fingers circle your clit.

"I want your tongue," you confess "Make me come on your tongue,"

You breathe out as your hands move over your tits, sliding under the fabric of your bikini top.

"Fuck, I love when you talk to me like that,"

He groans, and a moment later, he is giving in, licking your folds, sucking your clit, just as you like it. He knows it's going to make you a moaning mess before him.

He wasn't lying before, he is taking his sweet time savoring you, fucking you slowly with his tongue, then circling your clit and sucking on it every now and then.

When your body reacts at the waves of pleasure his motions are providing, he laughs darkly, the vibration of it a sweet addition to your pleasure.

Your body trembles, your orgasm building up at every french kiss he gives your pussy and you think you're going insane.

Your moans are louder, turning to sweet little whine when you know you're about to reach your high.

"I'm close, fuck, don't stop,"

As if he needed you to tell him not to stop.

Jungkook is quick to react, pushing with ease his middle and ring finger inside you.

The new stimulation makes you cry out in pleasure and he is so turned on by your sounds, he thinks he might bust in his swimming suit just with that.

"Love this pussy,"

He says, voice deep and steady.

"Can't wait to fuck you just right,"

And just like that, the built up tension in your belly snaps and a strong orgasm washes over you.

His hands, his words, the picture of his pretty cock slamming into your pussy, sends you over the edge. 

You let out a moan that sounds like his name and your hands move from your tits to brush his hair. 

You're still trembling from your orgasm when you open your eyes, not sure when you closed them and all you see is your boyfriend, hair disheveled, sucking on his wet fingers like a lollipop. 

His dark gaze meets your dazed eyes and he smiles, way too innocently considering the lustful motions of his tongue.

"God," you blurt out,  trying to regain a stable breathing, "Why are you still wearing that?"

You point at his bottom half, moving a second later to help him freed himself from the useless piece of clothing.  

His dick springs free, hungry and leaking some precum.

You hum, licking your lips as if you were a starved woman, ready to devour her meal. 

When you grab the base of his thick member and move to lick it, Jungkook surprisingly blocks your hand gently.

You frown, looking up mid motion, puzzled.

"I won't be able to hold back much longer if you suck me,"

His voice is almost apologetic and you tenderly smile, finding his confession hot and endearing at the same time.

"Just a little?"

You put up your best pleading eyes, softly adding, "Please?"

Jungkook's eyes roll back as he bites his lip and a deep breath leaves through his nostrils.

You know he likes when you beg for it.

While you scream in pleasure or with big innocent eyes, he just loves when you ask nicely, like a good girl.

He can't resist you.

He could never resist those pretty eyes of yours.

He shifts in his place, allowing you to get on your knees before grabbing your chin, ever so gently.

"Be a good girl then and open wide."

You smile in content, doing just as he asked, opening your mouth as wide as you can and sticking out your tongue.

When you look up at him, Jungkook slowly puts his fingers inside your mouth, and your faint taste still lingers in them. 

You suck and lick on them for a second, then when he pulls them out, he smears your saliva along his sensitive dick. 

His breaths are heavy and when he slams it a couple of times on your tongue he groans.

That's when he loses it a little. 

He grabs your jaw, helping you tilt your head at the right angle, then pushes the tip inside. 

You do your best by swirling your tongue around the salty tip, closing your lips around it just enough for him to feel a little pressure.

By the time you pop your lips open, he pushes a little more in, enough to stuff your mouth.

You instinctively bob your head, trying to get more of him inside and when a moan escapes his throat, you know he will stop you soon.

You take the opportunity to tease him a little, grabbing at his butt and fondling the soft skin of it as he sloppily thrusts.

Jungkook's sounds are animalistic, his thrusts are steady but right before he pulls out completely, he gives one last thrust that almost hits the back of your throat.

You gasp for air as he gently pushes you back down on the beach towel.

He swiftly takes your bikini away, both the bottom and the top, and latches his plumb lips to one of your breasts.

The coldness of his piercing mixed with his hot breath is a nice contrast for your perked up nipples.

You hiss when he bites the sensitive nub, but he quickly eases the pain away by kissing and lapping at the abused skin.

"Kook-"

A broken moan leaves your throat when he bites you again, this time on the delicate meat of your breast. It's softer than before, but you feel hyper responsive right now. 

"Can I come here?"

He whispers, leaving a trail of wet kisses all over your chest.

You giggle, feeling a little ticklish when his fingers travel down your sides.

"Why are you asking?" you pull him closer till his cock is leaning between your folds.

The contact sends shivers down to your core and you buck your hips almost automatically.

"You know I love it, Kook"

He just needed to hear you say that aloud, that's clear when pushes up a little, aligning the tip of his member with your entrance. 

"You love it, huh? Thought you loved it more inside you tho,"

He pushes in, inch by inch as he finishes his phrase.

You gasp at the sweet stretch, feeling breathless as he bottoms up.

"I love it down my throat too,"

That makes him go feral. 

It's all you're able to say before he props up on his elbow, one hand behind your shoulder, the other clasped around your hip to keep you there as he fucks you at a ruthless pace.

You're fucking on the floor, on a beach towel, shielded by a beach umbrella with Wario Ware long forgotten on the tv and some music shuffling from your phone, meanwhile outside it's pouring and thundering since this morning.

It might seem a messy situation, but everything feels at his place.. Nothing is missing here.

Every thrust elicits soft moans from you. He promptly kisses you, and as you make out you wrap your arms around him, trying to pull him closer and closer.

That allows him to jack hammer into you with measured force. 

The squelching sounds are filling the room, followed by his throaty moans and yours.

You're about to come once again, the pressure on your stomach well fed by the way his cock is hitting on the right spot inside you.

"Kook," you cry out, "I'm about to-"

"Me too baby," he pecks your lips before he adds, "Let me feel you come all over my cock,"

His hips slap against yours impossibly fast, just as fast as your orgasm approaches.

Your body stiffens and after a few seconds there it is, the sweet release, the white pleasure that washes over you.

You cry out his name repeatedly, till your cry subside to a moan and you feel his thrusts getting sloppier and erratic.

"Fuck, yes, I'm coming too,"

And he pulls out quickly, kneeling between your trembling legs before he pumps his fist around his drenched dick a few times before hot spurts of his cum lands on your body.

He moans shamelessly and you love when he gets all vocal, it turns you on even though you feel totally devastated right now.

He covers your breasts in sticky white and some of it lands on your chin too.

You don't mind, not when he looks so blissed and fucked out.

When he empties his load completely, he watches you, admiring his masterpiece and offering you a hand.

He chuckles breathlessly and pecks your lips as he pulls you up.

"Let's take a shower, shall we?"

You nod, not sure if you're able to speak right. 

You make sure to turn off the tv and the music on your phone before you head straight to the bathroom.

Jungkook offers to wash you up first and you let him do it.

It's obviously not the first time you shower together, but it doesn't happen that often either.

You wash up each other, giggling and chatting like he was not balls deep inside you just moments ago.

By the time you finish your shower and dry up, it's dinner time.

You enjoy your evening eating the food you thoroughly prepared beforehand right on the floor, because yes, Jungkook refused to put away the beach towels saying that "Our beach experience is not over yet". 

Even though you shake your head in defeat, you chuckle, amused by his determination.

The evening went by in total relaxation, you're curled up on your boyfriend's side as another episode of Demon's Slayer flashes on the tv screen. The air is chilly right now and you feel the fatigue of the day get the better of you. 

"Wanna go to bed after this episode?"

He asks, noticing your breathing is getting heavier.

You fell asleep a couple of times for a few minutes, trying to keep track of what you're watching when you woke up, but it's kind of frustrating.

You hum in agreement, stretching your back a little.

When the episode comes to its end, Jungkook stands up from the ground and leaves the living room. You walk up to the window, curious to see the state of the world outside.

Perhaps you hoped to see a clear sky, but unfortunately you were disappointed.

It's still raining, though it's not pouring like this afternoon. Droplets of water are slamming on the glass in a soft lullaby.

It's soothing somehow and you take a moment to take in the different effect the rainy weather has on you right now, compared to this morning.

Strong arms circle your waist and a soft peck on your head draws your attention away from the window. 

"There's another surprise for you,"

He whispers right in your ear before you turn around to look into his eyes.

Your arms find their place around his neck and you look at him, intrigued.

"Another one?"

He grins at your curiosity, pulling you towards the bedroom just a moment later.

When you enter the room, you're welcomed by his favorite galaxy lamp while it projects purple and blue hue up on the roof. 

Small green dots serve as little stars, scattered all around as they are slow dancing and a camping tent about the size of the bed is placed on top of it.

You're shocked, unable to speak as emotions get stuck in your throat, you inspect the room with teary eyes, touched by all his effort to make this weekend just perfect.

"Do you like it?"

He tentatively asks, watching your reaction by the frame of the door.

When you turn around you quickly reach out to him, hugging him so tight you think you might break his spine.

You softly sob on his chest as he returns the hug, kissing the top of your head affectionately and when you finally look up at him with a wide smile, Jungkook breaks in the softest laugh you have ever heard from him.

"It's perfect," you state, "You are perfect,"

Jungkook's gaze fills with all the love he has for you, a gaze that doesn't need words and after he dried away your salty tears, you kiss him passionately. 

Nothing could ever compare to this moment, to this little piece of heaven he created for just the two of you, under a starry sky that belongs to you and him and no one else.

You poured all your love on every inch of his body, tasted his soft skin and marked it as yours.

He did the same to you, making sure your body was worshiped as it deserves.

That night, you made love like nothing existed outside of your camping tent, it was only you and him, becoming one as your soft moans mingled in the room.

It was gentle, like the time was no longer flowing until slowly but surely, you reached your high together, hugging each other as he came inside you.

You felt full of him, in every sense possible as he softly kissed your forehead and you whispered the sweetest I love you in the air.

You cuddled to sleep, refusing to leave your tent to go wash up and when the morning after you woke up between your boyfriend's arms, you knew another beautiful day on a sandless beach awaited.

Another day with the love of your life, in your little perfect world.

[kiwi-bitchez]

Double Down, Triple Threat 

Summary: insecure!Eddie x bartender!Reader

Eddie is constantly flirting with you after his Corroded Coffin sets at the Hideout, and you have the bad habit of flirting back. What happens when you overhear a conversation that wasn’t meant for you? Maybe you’ve had the wrong idea about the cocky metalhead who negs you for free drinks. Now you need to take it into your own hands to resolve some built up tension. 

Smut, as always, with a touch of angst but generally fluff/happy ending. 

Word count: 18k (eek! in retrospect I maybe should have split this into multiple parts but...fuck it, brevity has never been my strong suit LOL) Buckle up for a doozy.

Content warnings: smut, afab reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol consumption, smoking, the devil’s lettuce, mention of Eddie's scars and sustained injuries (slightly canon divergent obviously because our boy is ALIVE here, but the events of season 4 generally stand otherwise), also Eddie does some negative self talk where he refers to himself as mutilated but everything is happy in the end I promise, and scars are nothing to be insecure about he's just down in the dumps you feel me?, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), unprotected PIV sex (plz use protection irl), pet names, reader and Eddie shower together

A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted a fic on here, but I hope all y’all who are still riding the Eddie Munson thirst train enjoy this :) I’m trying to regain the motivation to write more, so hopefully more fics to come soon (no promises though lol) (maybe some Steve? Steddie x Reader? Let me know what y’all want to see.) I

"I'll have the usual," his hoarse voice and boisterous presence cut through what few other customers sat at your bar, forcing your attention his way.

"Yeah, and what would that be?" you try to give him your best deadpan voice, unsure yet if you were in the mood for his antics. 

"Come on, like I ever order anything other than a whiskey and coke," his curly dark hair stuck slightly to his damp forehead, not having bothered to wipe the sweat from his brow in between the stage and the bar. If you could even call it a stage. It was more of a sad corner with an extension cable and a few amps that his grunting bandmates were lugging back into their truck while he very helpfully came over and tried to flirt with the bartender. You were the only bartender. On Friday nights anyways. 

"That's because you're unoriginal," his drink was already half made as you flick your eyes up through your lashes at him, knowing he was watching you intently, not that he was particular about how his drink was made by any stretch. "You're actually going to pay for it this time," you slid the glass over to him, "I'm not joking."

"You wound me," he tries his best to give you puppy dog eyes, "but I'm pretty sure Randy mentioned something about drink tickets when we negotiated our new Friday slot."

"That's not a thing," you make up menial tasks behind the bar to keep your hands and eyes busy while he relentlessly chats with you, "never has been. Plus if I keep giving you free drinks you'll get the idea that I like you or something." 

Fuck, you told yourself you should stop flirting back with him. Your first excuse had been professionalism, which didn't make a lick of sense considering you were a bar back at this hole in the wall that paid local bands in drink tickets, apparently. Your second excuse had been that as fun as Eddie was to chat with, you hardly knew anything about him other than his loud band and his drink order. 

Unfortunately he liked to chat and sooner than later you knew more about him than you wanted to. Your newest excuse? If you kept flirting back with him he might get the idea that he could see you outside of this dingy bar, and you liked the comfort and safety of the three feet of wood separating you, it kept you from doing something you might regret. 

"Don't act like you didn't like our set," he threw the rest of his drink back, "I saw you watchin' from over here."

"Yeah, well you're kind of hard to ignore, you know, with the volume and all," your voice had a too-playful tone that you mentally noted to dial back on. 

If you were being honest, Corroded Coffin was one of the weekly acts that you didn't entirely mind. Most were groups of middle aged men trying to relive the glory days by booking a weeknight at the Hideout, instruments barely tuned and a setlist that was decades out of style. While Eddie's band certainly wasn't everyone's cup of tea, you found yourself tapping your foot along with their songs more often than not. At least they were original, you’d give them that. 

He held his glass up to signal a request for another. "Go help your friends carry all your shit," you swiped the cup from his hand, hating that you focused on how your fingers briefly touched his, "and then I'll make you another. And I'm charging you for both."

"Whatever you say, babe" he spun around three or four times on the bar stool before sauntering off and finally assisting with moving the amps and drum kit. You rolled your eyes, not that he was watching you anymore, but more to keep yourself from checking out how his shirt clung to his torso. His black t-shirt was always a size too small, revealing his tattoo covered arms that you never allowed yourself to stare long enough at to make out what any of them were. 

Eddie was nice. As much as you liked to push each other's buttons and joke around, he was a lot more respectful than most patrons that tried their hand at flirting with you. He never said anything gross or disrespectful, not something you could say about most men who've had more than a few beers. 

But you didn't want to risk pushing any boundaries with him, because you work here, and his band plays here weekly, religiously. You didn't want things to get weird, and as much as you learned how to avoid certain patrons, there was only so much space between the 'stage' and your station behind the bar. 

Despite this, you have his second drink made before he finishes putting his stuff away, and you haven't started a tab for either of them. A big smile stretches across his cheeks when he notices his already-made drink set by his stool as he walks over from the back door. You couldn't help but feel a tiny smile creep up on your face as well. 

"Really made me work for this one, huh?" he takes the first sip while still standing before setting back into his seat, "truly amazing service, best I've ever had, really." You glare at him while cleaning some cups absentmindedly with a rag. "Not sure if you can tip on a drink ticket though..."

"Fuck off," you giggle and throw the wet towel at him, "you can't charm your way into TWO free drinks you ass."

"Aww you think I'm charming?" the flirtations between you were always edged with sarcasm, which you both found a lot easier than admitting 'hey you need to stop looking at me like that or else I'm going to keep thinking about pinning you against this countertop.'

"No, I don't, which is why you're PAYING for both those drinks," a lie followed by another lie, and you both knew it. "Where'd your band go?"

"Why? 'm I boring you?" he didn't mind taking up all your attention when the other bar patrons were either too drunk to stand or too old to even notice that a metal band had performed for the past hour. "No one's ever accused Gareth of being more interesting than yours truly. Plus he doesn't drink anyways, so your venture capitalist instincts wont work on him." He raised his drink to punctuate his joke before taking another long swig. 

"Ha ha," you don't give him the satisfaction of a real laugh, "I just wanted to make sure you had a ride home in case you try and swindle me into making you a third drink."

"Oh no, I told them all to scram, that I had a hot date with you and my unsettled tab," he leaned over the bar, trying to eliminate as much space between himself and you, "plus I've got a friend coming by to pick me up in a bit. So if you wanted to make me that third drink in exchange for me keeping you company while you close up, I certainly don't have any reason to turn you down."

"Fine," you point at him with a stern finger, "but this one'll be more coke than whiskey."

"Deal," he pointed his finger back at you, moving carefully in so the tips of your pointers touched. This made you genuinely laugh, unable to keep up a wall for too long around him. 

He finished his second drink while you ordered last call, and settled up with crumpled cash and mumbled thank you’s from the few remaining drunks. After closing up the cash register you make him that more-coke-than-whiskey drink as promised, and get to wiping down every sticky surface. 

"What's your drink?" he asks.

"Hmm?" you glance over from your hunched over position, trying to get the wet rag across the underside of the bar where someone had clearly spilt what appeared to be an entire pint of light beer. 

"You know my drink order, I wanna know yours." you stand up straight and look at him. 

You consider pushing back and demanding why he wanted to know, but it was late and you only had so many quips left in you, "Gin and tonic with extra lime." You get back to soaking up the spilt mess.

"Woooooow," his drink was finished and he took it upon himself to grab the broom from behind the bar and start sweeping up the bottle caps and tracked in dirt, "and you had the nerve to call me unoriginal."

"I'm not some creative rock and roll guitar guy like you, I don't need to be original, I'm just a bartender," you let him keep sweeping and start checking off other tasks from your closing list.

"You aren't just a bartender, give yourself more credit than that babe," he held up the dustpan full of crap, silently asking where to put it and you hold open a mostly full garbage bag for him to dump it into before tying it off, "judging by your drink order I would also guess that you're, hmmmm, an 85 year old man."

"Oh my god," you slap him on the arm with another half dirty hand towel, "in that case, you're doing voluntary manual labor just to flirt with this 85 year old man, so maybe you need to reevaluate your priorities."

He takes a few steps forward, not quite caging you against the bar, but nearly there. "And how am I doing? Is it working?" He's the closest he's ever been to you, jokingly sliding the broom around your feet, pretending to sweep while maintaining searing eye contact.

As the which-one-of-us-is-going-to-learn-in-first question buzzes around you, an irritating light flickers through the big front window, indicating someone had pulled their car right up to the curb with their high beams on. Eddie scrunches his nose up, and your urge to kiss him somehow grows despite his annoyed expression. "That's my ride."

You give him a small nod, turning your head to try and squint to see who could possibly be picking him up at this hour, but not making out much through the foggy glass. "I suppose I can manage the rest without you," you grab the broom from him, fingers touching for the second time tonight, "see you next week, rockstar."

Eddie wants to do something smooth, a wink or a clever line, but instead nervously gives you a nod and is out the front door before he can give it a second thought. The minute the door closes behind him you let out all the air you had been holding in your chest, both frustrated and slightly relieved. Eddie on the other hand- was bursting with regret and frustration, immediately running his hands through his hair and pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. 

"Absolutely not," Steve craned his neck out of his car that always looked like it had just gotten a fresh wax and detail, "at least five feet away from the beemer if you're going to light that." 

Eddie rolled his eyes, considering putting the cigarette back into the carton and getting the fuck away from this bar, but ultimately gave in and pivoted on his heel storming back towards the brick exterior and slumping against it as he flicked his lighter and took an aggressively deep pull. 

"What's your damage?" Steve moved out of the expensive car, keeping a bit of distance from Eddie but close enough that the two could talk, "That bartender you like wasn't on or something?"

"She's inside closing up now, so keep your fuckin' voice down" he gave Steve a glare and then immediately an apologetic look for being so prickly, "I'm just bad at this shit, man."

"You can't be that bad at it, Gareth and Jeff said the two of you eye fuck across the room every Friday night," Steve shrugs, understanding Eddie's drawback but knowing his friend rarely gives himself the benefit of the doubt. 

"Yeah, well, that's not the hard part," Eddie rips his cigarette and presses his wild hair deeper into the brick behind him, exhaling upwards. 

You had taken note that Eddie's ride hadn't left yet, so you busied yourself for a minute before deciding who cares if you had to give him an awkward wave on your way across the parking lot, so you locked up and grabbed the trash to take to the dumpster out back before leaving for the night. 

You really didn't mean to eavesdrop, but as soon as the back door clicked you heard their muffled conversation from around the corner. Rather than give away your presence with the clanging of the trash you gently set it against the wall and moved forward silently, staying out of sight but well within earshot. 

"Flirting is the easy part, she's fuckin' easy to talk to, man" Eddie's voice carried, and you felt guilty but continued to listen, "I don't want to just fuck her though, I want to like, date...her."

"Oh," Steve's voice dropped knowingly, "well that's... good, I guess, that you like her like that."

"Well even if I didn't like her like that and was only looking to fuck her," he sighs out, and you carefully listen while furrowing your eyebrows, trying to make sense of their conversation, "she's gorgeous, and no girl that hot- scratch that no girl at all want's to fuck some mutilated freak."

"Don't call yourself a freak," Steve's voice seems apprehensive. 

"Yeah, sure, but you can't say I'm not mutilated." There was a beat of silence, and you didn't have time to think too much about his words before he went off again, voice laced with thick sarcasm, "Oh hey babe, so glad you were able to look past that I live in a trailer park and all my neighbors think I'm a satan worshiping murderer, but I hope you can be cool with my singular nipple and weird lumpy scar tissue, I know it's super hot, you're gonna have to get in line." His voice carried easily far past your hiding spot. 

"You're not giving her much credit dude," Steve was still apprehensive to respond, knowing how Eddie got when he started to spiral, "Maybe she's not that shallow."

"It's not that," Eddie's voice started to calm, "I'd just rather take my twenty minutes of flirting after our Friday gigs than risk it and have her look at me like she's sorry for me or something." 

With that he snubbed out his cigarette butt with the toe of his combat boots, let out a big sigh, and moved to get into the passenger side of Steve's car. You take a few slow, careful steps back towards the slumped garbage bag and wait until you hear the engine start and see the lights pull out onto the opposite side of the road. 

Fuck. Part of you felt incredibly guilty for listening to what was obviously meant to be a private conversation, especially a private conversation about you. But your gears were turning far too fast to get hung up on guilt. 

You always felt apprehensive about Eddie because you figured he was a flirt, a player, the kind of guy who talks to all bartenders like that, and you just happened to be the one he flirted with after his Corroded Coffin shows. You never wanted to get too invested in making him smile or waiting around for him to chat you up, because you know how most guys are, especially guys who carry themselves with that much confidence. And you were fucking wrong. 

Now fully realizing that the ball is in your court, you need to plan your first move. You decided, Eddie was worth taking the risk. 

It was truly a shot in the dark, but if your intuition ended up being a bust then no one would know about your wasted afternoon other than yourself. The following afternoon you drove aimlessly up and down the unpaved residential streets of the trailer park. There were two in town but you had a pretty good feeling that this was the one. 

You only started to feel stupid when you got some confused and slightly angry looks from people going about their business, hanging laundry or smoking on their porches, scrunching their noses and trying to make out the unfamiliar car driving in circles around their neighborhood. 

Aha! There it was. You knew that your gut could only fail you so many times when it came to Eddie. Exactly what you had been looking for, a big black and blue 1971 Chevrolet van strewn with dents, patches of rust, and, your telltale sign, a homemade Corroded Coffin sticker crookedly placed on the faded chrome of the bumper. 

Step one, complete. Step two was contingent on Eddie even being home. The presence of his van had you feeling hopeful. 

You attempt to rid yourself of lingering nerves with a deep breath and silent pep talk. You park adjacent to his van and hop out before your legs can convince you not to, and suddenly you've rung the doorbell and are standing with your hands clasped nervously in front of his door. 

"Just a minute," you hear him yell from inside, step two, complete, "What're you here for? Cuz I only got weed right now so if you're..." his hollering voice trails off from inside as he catches a glimpse of you through the screen. "Y/n? What the fuck are you doing here?" 

"Jeez, hello to you too," you try to lace your voice with the same flirty edge that you always took with Eddie, but you didn't have the comfortable barrier of the bar or the security of being the person serving him his drinks. 

"How the fuck do you know where I live?" His tone wasn't quite angry, but it was bordering on more pointed than just confused. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to drop by totally unexpected," you suddenly felt vulnerable, regretting this whole stupid plan, "I can go." 

You start to scurry back to your car and hide your face forever, but he cuts you off with, "No, no, just, why are you here?" He softened his voice, and came down the stoop to hover over you on the last step. 

"Well," here goes nothing, "last night I felt like we sort of got interrupted." You pause, trying to gauge his reaction, "And I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I didn’t want to wait a whole week to see you again."

"Oh," his face and reaction didn't give you much of a clue as to what he was thinking. 

"And," you started filling the empty air with words, as you often did out of anxiety, "I know where you live because I've heard you sing 'fuck everyone in the trailer park, I'll play my music and curse your existance' probably a thousand times, it really wasn’t that hard to figure out where you live." 

He let out a chuckle, despite being deep in the throws of processing your earlier statement of feeling cut off. Of course he wanted to see you outside the confines of the musty bar, he just hadn't expected it to be like this, so sudden. "Well that's fair. I’ll give you double points for perception."

"I didn't mean to interrupt your Saturday," you began to reel again, "just wanted to tell you I'd like to hang out with you sometime, preferably not at The Hideout."

"Can sometime be now?" he hopped down from the last step and gave you an inquisitive smile, nose slightly scrunched and giving you butterflies. 

"Yeah, sometime can be now. You promise I'm not interrupting anything?" you felt a wave of relief, his energy had fully shifted from confusion to your comfortable flirty banter.

"Just a packed bong and have some laundry I probably wasn't going to do anyways," he suddenly realized he either had to invite you inside, which would be slightly embarrassing given the current state of his trailer, or suggest a secondary location, "you hungry? We can grab lunch or something?" 

He offered to drive, and you suggested sandwiches and beer to go for a backseat van picnic. He was relieved that you were down with doing something so casual, no stuffy cafes or overpriced food. If you were more than happy to suggest eating deli counter sandwiches in the back of his clunky van then maybe he had less to worry about than he thought. 

The passing moments between you had him realizing he truly didn't know much about you. Your job, how you had no problem snapping back at rude customers, and most recently your favorite drink. He wanted to know more, and quickly did as you had a 'regular' sandwich order and gave him directions to a side street that looked out onto a small lake, explaining that you'd eat lunch out here sometimes when the weather was nice. He parked the van in reverse, letting the back doors swing open, giving you the perfect bench looking out to the scenery to sit back and eat. 

"All my years living 'round here, I've never been to this spot," he noted through bites of sandwich wrapped in white paper.

"Yeah, most people know the spot across the lake with the rope swing and all that," you gesture across to where there was a popular jumping rock littered with empty beer cans, "too crowded for me though, it's more peaceful over here." 

"Sorry if I was a bit rude earlier," he started, but you quickly cut him off before he could finish his apology.

"No, no," you move your hand over to gently grab his mid gesture, "don't apologize, your reaction was incredibly reasonable."

"I just-' he started but you gave his hand a squeeze, "I really am happy you decided to come by, I didn't want you to think otherwise."

"I'm happy you chose lunch with me over a bong and laundry, that was some tough competition I had," he rolled his eyes at you.

"Don't make fun of me," he nudged your side, "I'm usually pretty wiped from Friday's show and trying to think of clever things to keep up with you, so my Saturday's are usually pretty lazy," your shoulders rubbed against each other, "being a washed up wannabe rockstar and flirting with a girl way out of my league can really do a number on me."

You share a soft giggle but reassure him that playing live music, even if it is only for you and a crowd of five drunks is still pretty cool. "Plus I like that you dress like this all the time, it's not just an act, this is just how you are," you gesture to his ripped jeans and ring clad fingers.

"What did you expect, babe? Surprise me at my trailer to find me in a polo and khakis?" the suggestion alone had the two of you laughing, brainstorming an alternate universe where Eddie was an accountant by day and only let his rocker side loose on Friday nights. 

"If you aren't secretly an accountant, what do you do when you're not playing music, if I may ask," you realize this was really one of the first personal questions you'd exchanged, keeping things punchy and surface level until this point.

"Ah, well," he scratches the back of his head, "although I wish the drink tickets we make at The Hideout were enough to cover rent, I work down at the body shop, you know the one down the street from the grocery store? My uncle knew some guys there and hooked me up with a job fixing cars after high school, and it's not too bad, I'm not half bad at it either, so that's where I'm at."

"You just really keep getting better and better, huh?" at first he wonders if your comment is sarcastic, but you continue "So what I'm hearing is you'll look at my rattling engine for free? I know nothing about cars and am always worried the people at the body shop are going to overcharge me."

"I only charge in sandwich dates and drink tickets, so you're in luck," he responds quickly without giving it much of a thought. 

You take a second, "What about dinner dates? Maybe movie dates too? Are those acceptable payments for your mechanic expertise?" 

"Not usually, but I'll make an exception for you," he responds after a few beats, realizing you wanted to see him again, and not just at the bar. 

You both are looking out at the lake, the buzzing energy around you making you nervous to look at each other. So you just tilt your head sideways to rest on his shoulder, "Phew, that's a relief, because I have a lot more of these planned."

"Oh yeah?" he shifts his body towards you, lifting your head from his shoulder and finally meeting his gaze, a stupid grin plastered across his face, he couldn't help it. "Which one of these dates do I finally get to kiss you?" You let out a breathy laugh, half amused by his corny line and half surprised he was being so forward. 

"Hmmm, I'm not sure," you pretend to think it over, stringing this out was killing both of you, but you couldn't help but push his buttons a bit more, "I'd say I'm kind of a third date kind of gal."

"Three? As in three from now or three including this one?" He seemed genuinely concerned, causing a genuine laugh to slip through the act you were putting on. 

You move your hand to his chest, faces closer than they had ever been. You had always been sucked into his big brown eyes, but now you saw flecks of honey and deep browns that bordered on black in them, faded freckles dotted across his cheeks, a chapped patch on his lower lip that had clearly been the victim of some anxious chewing. "I'll make an exception this time, for you."

He let you make the first move, leaning in and gently pressing your lips to his, soft and slow. You could feel his breath catch in his throat, prompting you to pull back and look at him through fluttered lashes, as your mouth parted slightly to ask him if that was okay, his big ring clad hands cupped the sides of your cheeks and pulled you right back into him, kissing you like he was afraid you'd evaporate if he ever stopped. 

The wind was knocked out of you. You couldn't be bothered to breathe when your attention was solely focused on his lips, his tongue, the sharp intake air he sucked in between slotting your top lip down to your swollen bottom one, nipping with teeth and holding your face so close. 

After a minute of soft whimpers and exploring the new intimacy you pull back to finally catch your breath, fully ready to ignore the need for oxygen and lean back in when you see his face, rosy and buzzing with excited energy. 

"Sorry, if that was kind of a lot," he realized you had given the sweetest peck and he proceeded to practically shove his tongue down your throat. 

You however, were already brushing his apology off and leaning in for more, missing the feeling of his big hands cradling your face, sending tingling shockwaves down your body. Before you could lunge back at him and take more of what you wanted, he takes your chin in between his fingers and tilts your head up to his.

"I don't know if you can tell, but I'm sort of crazy about you. And I really don't want to fuck this up, but I've wanted to do that for a really long time.” 

He could tell by your pout that you were begging for another kiss, and he couldn't refuse you. You were completely lost in it. Learning that he let out a little gasp when you ran your fingers up into his hair, that he would catch your bottom lip in between his teeth when you started to pull away and he needed more, that you were already completely wrecked for him. You weren't even conscious of the fact that you were now fully seated in his lap, sandwich wrappers and empty cans long pushed aside. 

Part of you wanted to wait, to let things build up organically over time and get physically intimate when the moment felt right. But fuck it, the moment felt right now. 

Any apprehension or worry of scaring him off dissipated when his thumb ran across your cheekbone, his other strong arm holding you steadily against him, you don't think you could wiggle away if you tried. Swirling in your apprehension you also fought the urge to press your hips down into his and grind against him harder. You wanted to let him take things at his pace and not rush anything, but fuck you could feel his cock getting hard between your legs and it was driving you insane. 

He dragged the knuckle of his middle finger up your neck along the curve of your jaw, speaking softly into your kiss, "can I kiss you here?" pressing his touch into the side of your neck.

"You can do anything you want to me," you pant back, slightly embarrassed at how desperately horny that came out.

"Fuck," he groaned out, cock noticeably twitching against his black jeans and into your thigh, "you can't say shit like that to me."

"Sorry, sorry," you try to gain your composure and lift off him slightly, “I-"

He took a hold of your waist and pulled your back down into his lap, diving into the side of your neck and nipping and sucking until he found the spot that made you squeeze your thighs slightly around him. "Anything I want requires a lot more time and space than we have right now, pretty girl." He mumbled into your neck in between kisses, his words making your back arch slightly more into him. "Plus I need to be a gentleman," you rolled your eyes at this. 

"Since when have you ever worried about that," you tug his hair back to force him to look at you.

"You really want to know what I want, right now?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"Really, really," you let your weight sink down onto his lap a touch more, feeling the stiff length under his jeans slot between your thighs a bit deeper, making his breath hitch before he could respond. 

"I want you to lay back on those blankets up there," he nodded towards the few crumpled up blankets he had shoved behind the driver's seat, "and let me eat your pretty pussy until you're screaming loud enough for the people across the lake to hear."

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't that. 

This unexpected burst of sexual confidence threw you for a loop, as you were fully prepared to be the one making all the big moves. Your mouth hung open slightly, struggling to form a response when all that was swarming through your mind was holy fuck, holy fuck, that was so hot, what the fuck do I say. 

Rather than respond with words you just roll off his lap and start moving deeper into the back of his van, propping your torso up on bent arms and sending him back a suggestively raised eyebrow. He swung his legs up over the ledge and took one of the doors with him, sliding into the van and quickly shutting the other as well. 

It took a second for your eyes to adjust, the previous sunlight coming in from across the lake was cut off, and the light source now was only coming from the front windows, making things darker but not invisible. You quickly had no trouble making out Eddie's slender form shuffling around and getting situated in between your bent knees, urging you to lay back a bit more and relax as much as your body would allow against the lumpy blanket pile. 

"This is okay?" he asks while leaning down to pick up where you had left off a moment ago. 

"Yes, fuck," you wiggle up into his form, wanting as much contact as he would allow, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into your lips. 

It all had moved faster than you were used to but fuck if it didn't feel so right. Why did you feel more comfortable with this person you hardly knew than you had with your past few long term relationships? He just had this way of taking your nerves and throwing them out the nearest window. 

After sucking on your lower lip until it was puffy and slick he dips his chin into the crook of your neck, dragging his perfect nose up your jugular and nestling into the junction of your neck and ear, licking a stripe all the way. You wanted to desperately buck your hips up into his, but only allowed yourself half the satisfaction of lifting your thigh slightly to give him more space to sink deeper into your slumped form. 

When Eddie’s life flashed before his eyes, on more than one occasion- actually- he wasn’t particularly satisfied with what he saw. In the moments before what he assumed was death, his brain searched for the best moments to accumulate and reminisce on before his body succumbed to the untimely demise he was facing. It wasn’t much. 

He wished he had more than smiling moments with his D&D club, a few killer performances at the Hideout, no killer audiences, some nights of revelry with his friends, and a few forgettable hookups in dingy bar bathrooms. That couldn’t be it, right?

In the wake of his life flashing, fading, and flashing again, he made more space for good things. After his shows now he let himself think about you, and how much he liked you, let himself try his hand at flirting. Because if he was going to come anywhere that close to death again, he needed more to show for it than a few trysts with nameless girls and an unnerving amount of scar tissue. 

So he wasn’t about to fuck this up. If someone came at him with an axe tomorrow, at least he’d have the memory of you splayed out beneath him in the back of his van, lips shiny and cheeks rosy. If his life were to flash before his eyes again it wouldn’t be as bad.  

“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” he mumbled into your neck, his denim clad thigh pressing perfectly in between your legs. You could only hum back as if to say, “no, tell me.”

“I think you do know,” his teeth grazed upon your earlobe, sending a jolt through your hips and finding solace in the friction between your thighs with his.

“Yeah, I know,” you breathe out, arching your neck down to nudge the tip of his nose with yours, “do you?”

“I didn’t have a clue,” he mumbled into your lips before slipping his tongue against yours, sickly sweet and laced with all the regret of not asking you out sooner. 

You let your ankles hook around one another, locking your hips together and earning a deep rumble of a moan from the man trapped. “I recall you mentioning something about the people across the lake hearing me…” you playfully trail off, equal parts confidently flirty and deeply desperate for him to act on his earlier promise. 

He had nudged his way down into the neckline of your shirt, licking and nipping at as much of your breasts as he could find, fingertips grazing the waistline of your pants. Part of you wanted to just lay here and let him have his way with you, but the conscious part of your brain recognized the insecurities he expressed in that conversation you weren't supposed to hear, and signaled you to be as forward with him as you could be. 

“Fuck,” you struggled to pry your hands between your pressed bodies to reach your jeans button, “Eddie can I take these off, I want to feel you.” 

With your hands moved south, you managed to undo the clasps of your jeans while also running your hands upwards towards his shirt, wanting to feel the skin beneath. 

It was subtle, but impossible for you to miss, when your fingertips grazed his lower stomach and trailed up his t-shirt his body shifted into a tense state for just a moment. You could have easily missed it. It took all of a millisecond for him to subtly jerk away from you and redirect the attention to your now unbuttoned pants. His hands were dragging the material down your thighs before you had a moment to register the way he averted your touch. 

He playfully tossed your bunched up pants over his shoulder, as if they had anywhere else to go other than the three feet of van between him and the doors. After that flashed moment of shyness, you noticed nothing but a playful smirk on his face, smile crinkled at the corners of his cheeks and eyes full of wild mischief. 

His hands spread against your thighs, digging his fingertips into as much skin as the width of his palms would allow. 

“So fucking perfect,” he drank you in, hardly noticing the moment you pulled your shirt and bra over yourself, but dumbstruck as soon as his eyes caught sight of your reveal.

Knowing he had yet to put his money where his mouth was, he adjusted downwards and let his flushed cheek make contact with your thigh. In that moment he vowed to let the sight of the little damp patch in the center of your cotton panties stay forever in his mind. 

He didn’t let a single thought register in his brain before he leaned forward and let his tongue lick a fat strip up the middle of your clothed center, adding dampness to the apparent arousal already there. 

“Jesus,” you were slightly taken aback at his action, letting your head fall back, while still lowering your gaze down to where his hooded lids and pink tongue sat in between your thighs.

He reveled in the feeling of being between your thighs, letting his tongue play around the center of your panties for a few strokes before the twitching in your legs signaled that you had had enough of his teasing. 

Taking a blissful moment to hook his finger through the crotch piece of your underwear and pull it to the side to reveal your slick center, he simply couldn’t help himself. He pulled back and drank the sight of you in, panties wet with your arousal and his spit pulled to the side and your perfect cunt finally in his sights. 

The groan he let out only tripled your level of neediness for him. You let your chest puff up and hips gyrate forward at nothing to signal that you needed him, like, now.

Before you could even think of something snarky to say to get him to get on with it, his entire face was fully buried in you. An involuntary ahhh escaped you as he let his entire tongue press as far into you as space would allow. 

“Ohmygod,” all coming out in one breath, “fuckeddie.” 

He groaned deeply into you at the feeling of your pussy on his mouth, your taste, how your hips twitched slightly when his nose pressed against your clit. He didn’t even think about all those drunken chats with the boys or stupid cosmo articles he couldn't help but read, eating your pussy didn’t require any thought, he could only feel. 

Your sighs were like a song to him, every sharp inhale and subtle whimper, he caught it all and it was the most beautiful music. He let his tongue swirl faster when he heard your breath hitch, gripped your thigh tighter when you let out that beautiful exhale. 

“So fucking good for me,” he mumbled into your inner thigh in between licks, fully pussy drunk and ready to stay here forever, “fucking perfect.”

After some selfish exploration, he settled on a steady rhythm against your clit, making your back arch and whines jump an octave. 

“Eddie, Eddie,” you groaned, feeling embarrassed how needy your voice already sounded, “can you use your fingers too, please.” Desperate. That’s how you felt, and you couldn't help but be self conscious for any more than a moment, as he immediately headed your request. 

Guitar fingers. You fucking knew it. You always found him attractive and charming, but immediately scolded yourself the moment you started speculating about those damn fingers. If he could learn Metallica solos in private, what else could he do?

Curling upwards in that magically delicious motion that had you already seeing stars, he glanced up at you upon entering and was met with the glorious sight of your mouth hanging open and eyes fluttering shut. 

You simply couldn’t be bothered by the rickety van floor beneath you, the sad lumpy pillow propped under your head, or the stagnant, vaguely cigarette scented air around you. Nope. No thoughts other than the tightening knot in your stomach and how those pretty brown eyes peered up through too-perfect lashes at you in between sinful strokes. 

“Making me feel so fucking good,” you hardly recognized your voice as your own, “please don’t stop, Eddie, please…”

And there it was, euphoric bliss found in the back of a pot dealing metalhead’s van. Your thighs quivered and your brain lost all capacity for thought. All you could feel was the sudden wash of pleasure, the pulsing between your legs, and the tongue and fingers fucking into you as if it was the last thing he ever did. 

Writhing, trying to keep your moans down despite his verbalized promise for them to be heard far and wide, you try to control the jerk of your hips and grip on his hair. You rode out your orgasm, far sooner than you would have liked. You wanted to revel in it. 

After months of relentless flirting and suppressing your attraction to him, you wish you could have held your orgasm off a while longer. You simply couldn't allow yourself to bask in the velvet of his tongue or the tickle of his bangs on your thighs. You needed it too badly to hold off. 

Coming down from your orgasm, a broken moan cracked from you and let him know to slow his roll. In between catching your breath you catch a view of him sucking your release off of his slick fingers, and almost throw yourself at him, beg him to jump your bones. But all you can do is let out a breathy laugh and find the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him. 

“You come?” he asks, slight snark to his voice.

You muster up the energy to bop him upside the head and ruffle his hair along the way. “Fuck off,” you respond, still breathless, “you know I did.”

“I know,” he cocks his head, still admiring your form, your flushed face and rise and fall of every breath, “It’s polite to ask, though.”

“Ah yes, Eddie Munson, most polite man I know,” you flop back onto the mismatched pillows.

“Hey!” he pretends to sound offended but only manages to tug at your heartstrings, “I’ll have you know, that I am a delight.” 

“Can’t argue with that,” you reach down to feel your dripping folds before hunching forward to search for your underwear, which haven't traveled too far from his knees on the van floor.  

You wanted to return the favor, do more than return the favor, but something about his shift in demeanor and the way he angled his body away from yours slightly to adjust his hard cock in his pants and keep up the too-casual post-orgasm conversation had you thinking it was more than him being too polite to accept your advances. 

“Shit, what time is it,” he begins to shuffle towards the front of the van to check the time while you awkwardly gathered your clothes and redressed, fully assessing that whatever fooling around in the back of this van you were doing was officially over. 

“I, uh, have a few errands to run,” he sounded apologetic, not like he was making some excuse to get you out of his hair, “I can drop you off, or you can come along for the ride…”

There is was, your affirmation that he was just as desperate to hang onto this moment together as you were. 

“I actually have a shift starting pretty soon,” you regrettably admit, “and as much as I’d love to ditch it and be your passenger princess, the Saturday tips are usually the bulk of my rent money so…” 

He understood, he hated how much he understood. 

“What time do you get off?” He didn’t even try to hide how eager he was to see you again, again in ten minutes, again later tonight, again tomorrow, again as many times as you’d let him. 

“Get off? Pretty sure I did that like three minutes ago…” you joke and appreciate his huff of a laugh, “Um, I’m closing, so probably not until like two or three. Don’t worry though, I can give you my number and we can do this again when we’re both free.”

“I’m free later… at two,” his expression was dead serious, “or three, or four, or whenever.” He noticed your brows shoot up and words start to form in your mouth, before you could speak he cuts in, “If you won’t be too tired or anything. I can pick you up?”

“It’ll be pretty late Eds,” you were falling into the trap of his puppy dog eyes, “you don’t need to wait up for me like that, I promise we can see each other again, tomorrow even…”

“Tell me to fuck off if I’m being pushy,” he took your hand in his and mindlessly stroked circles into it with his thumb, “but I’m sort of a night owl, not big on the whole sleeping thing anyways, and I’d love to pick you up from work later.”

“Okay,” you agree, the soft earnestness of his voice snared you, and considered the magic he had just worked between your legs, who were you to say no. The glimmer in his eye and quirked smile at your response had you wishing you had said more than ‘okay,’ wondering what kind of look you would have gotten from a ‘yes, please,’ or ‘I’d love that.’

He drove you back to his trailer, not letting go of your hand during the ride, not even to turn up the music at his favorite parts. He offers to follow you back to your place, insisting that waiting for you to shower and change into work clothes and then drop you off at the Hideout was “on the way” to these supposed errands he had to run. 

You roll your eyes but start to accept that this is the kind of guy Eddie is, insincerity undetectable when he makes these offers. You invite him in, but he opts to wait outside with a cigarette, pacing a bit and then forcing his legs and mind to still by waiting in the drivers seat. 

“Hey hot stuff,” he wolf whistles as you exit your apartment, dressed in your usual black shirt and jeans for work, apron balled up in your bag to put on once you arrive. 

He’s sweet, and sincere. As much as you liked the jab banter between the two of you at the bar, you think you might prefer his sarcastic jokes mixed with sweet compliments and longing gazes more. Not that you weren’t getting that from him at the bar before, there were plenty of longing gazes there too, but now the shared glances are heavy with the knowledge of what his tongue feels like on your cunt. 

A sloppy, exaggerated kiss on the cheek and a ‘go get ‘em tiger’ sends you off into the bar, where your hands will be pouring cheap liquor for the next several hours but your mind will be solely occupied with what your post-work date with Eddie entails. 

The drink special of the night was a mix of anxious anticipation and lustful yearning, shaken too aggressively and served with sunsteady hands. Luckily the Saturday rush kept you mostly focused on vodka sodas and Guinness pours, wiping down sticky surfaces and making change for impatient customers. 

You had assistance behind the bar, and that also meant assistance closing up, finally allowing yourself to start peeking through the window to see if Eddie held up on his promise. Of course he had. He’d been waiting in the lot, scoring a few sales from exiting patrons who knew him previous deals, since long before the bar closed. 

You wipe your sweaty palms onto your apron and ball it up into your bag before bounding across the parking lot towards Eddie, who always seems to have this effortless charisma buzzing around him, a cigarette dangled from his pretty lower lip and posture just slouched enough to still be sexy. Maybe you were biased at this point. 

He pulls you in by your waist, angling his chin up to blow the smoke up into the sky rather in your direction. 

“How was work?” Your cheeks were already starting to grow hot at the feeling of his pinky finger landing on the strip of skin between your shirt and jeans, “Miss me?”

“Bartending’s a lot easier when I don’t have your nosy ass pestering me for free drinks,” you cock your head at him, silently asking for a drag of his cigarette, which he immediately understands and complies, “wasn’t too bad though, happy it’s over,” you exhale. 

“If you’e hungry there’s some fries and a milkshake by the passenger’s seat,” he let you slip from his grasp to spin around towards the van door.

“For me?” you peek through the window, realizing he didn’t just mean extras from his dinner earlier, he had gone out of his way to pick you up a post-work snack.

“Unless you aren’t hungry,” he moves to hop in the drivers side, “In which case you can practice tossing fries into my open mouth while I drive.”

You let a few fries fly across the car seat in his general direction, feeding him the occasional one directly, but inhaling most of them shortly after you peeled out of the parking lot. 

“D’you want me to bring you home, or…” you knew where he was headed with this, a nervous edge to his voice. 

“We can hang out back at your trailer if that’s okay,” you say mid-fry, “as long as I can take a quick shower I don’t mind chilling there.”

He grins like a giddy schoolgirl and grips the steering wheel just a touch tighter, and drives just a bit faster back to the trailer park. As anxious as you felt during your shift, you can’t be bothered to overthink with Eddie leaning towards you with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, making googly eyes at the shake you were downing as his way of asking you for a sip. 

He put the van into park before the wheels had even come to a complete stop, hustling around the front to make sure he was the one to open your door. He had spent some of the time you were away straightening up his trailer for the first time in a good long while. Empty beer cans were cleared and he even changed the bed sheets. It still wasn’t the Ritz or anything, but at least he can say he tried.

He tried to busy himself with locking the door behind you after entering, not wanting to see if your eyes drifted over to the mess of records and smoking pariphenelia that cluttered the coffee table, or the chance that the mixture of heavy metal and nerdy posters strewn about would draw a judgmental reaction. 

When he let his gaze drift back to you, you weren’t looking at any of that. You were looking right back at him, already leaning up on your toes and asking, “Can I kiss you again?” 

A mumbled “of course” had you wrapping your arms around his neck and melting into his touch, finding his lips already on yours before you could go in for the kill. 

The kiss started off French-fry-and-strawberry-shake flavored, smiling into his lips as the anticipation of seeing him again after only a few short hours slips away. 

“Thank’s for spending so much time with me today,” you whisper in between sticky sweet kisses, “and for the fries and-“

He took your cheeks in his hands and smushed your lips into his mid-sentence, pulling back to see the puckered fish face he held between his hands. 

“You’re welcome,” his big button eyes bore straight through you, as if he saw all of you and more, “but you don’t have to thank me, I like being with you, and I ended up eating most of the fries anyways,” he trails off, cheeks rosy and lips slick from your claim on them.

“You wanted to shower?” He cuts himself off, and feels stupid for it. He knew he could keep kissing you and kissing you and kissing you, and the only thing holding him back was his anxious brain and big mouth. 

“Oh, yeah,” you were a little surprised that he remembered, and chose to bring it up now, “if you don’t mind. I always feel a little sticky after work, you know, with the Hideout’s C health rating and all.”

With a smile that nearly knocked the air out of you, he took a deep bow like some silly court jester and motioned down the trailer’s only hallway. You took your lead and followed his outstretched arm, figuring there were only so may doors that could possibly lead to a bathroom. 

“Oh, shit, wait,” you hear him scramble behind you, shuffling past into the door you assume to he his bedroom, emerging milliseconds later with a crumpled towel in his balled up hand, “you’re gonna want this.”

“Thank you,” you’re slow with your movements, wondering how he was acting so squirrelly, like a middle school boy around the girl he wanted to take to the dance, even though he had you fully spread out begging for him in the back of his van only hours earlier, “is the shower big enough for two?”

You meant it equally suggestive and genuine, knowing full well that not all showers are built for partner bathing. However, the fear stricken look that washed across his face for a millisecond before scrunching up and setting to neutral had you thinking you had just asked if there was a built in hot tub or something like that. His mouth hung open and for a moment that conversation you weren’t supposed to hear replayed in your mind, maybe you had to take this slower than he was willing to let on. 

“Just looking for someone to massage my scalp, that’s all,” you try to jokingly play it off, keeping your invitation open but concealing it with a joke to double back on just in case.

“Yeah, it’s- uhhh,” Eddie, who was always quick with a comeback was suddenly lost for words, “It’s the size of a normal shower, yeah.” It’s not like he could lie, all you had to do was turn around and size it up for yourself. 

You take the towel from his white knuckled grip and pivoted towards the door that was close to having burn holes from where his laser focused eyes were shot. You give him a wink over your shoulder, figuring that was enough of an invitation and vague enough of an excuse for him to leave depending on what he wanted. You hated this line you were towing, knowing more than you should- yet still feeling so in the dark. 

He was right, it was a normal sized shower. A bathtub with a sliding door and a detachable shower head with only one working setting. There was a rack with three-in-one and a bar of dove soap, which should have annoyed you but made you giggle instead. You let a quarter sized drop of the generic body wash slash shampoo slash conditioner lather into your hands when you heard the bathroom door creek open, purposefully left unlocked. 

“Hey, is it okay I’m in here?” He sounded so genuine in his concern, unknowing you were on the verge of begging him to get in the shower with you. 

“Yeah,” you borderline shout over the running water, “here to help massage my scalp?” You let your tone stay light and joking despite being deadly serious. 

“Wow I didn’t realize your hands were really that delicate and incapable,” he tried to match your energy, but an anxious edge remained present. 

“I mean,” you searched for your words, “I’ve seen you play Metallica, I know those fingers could surely get this pine scented crap deep into my roots.” You let the suggestive comment linger, nervous after a beat of silence passed. 

“If you really need my help,” you heard him shuffling around , “who am I to turn a damsel in distress away?”

You felt your cheeks get rosy and shoulders wiggle with excitement as you caught the shower door jerk open. Your face was towards the shower head, and you only turned a quarter of the way around before Eddie stepped in behind you and those guitar-string-calloused-hands gripped your shoulders and twisted you back towards your view of the water stream. 

“I’m gonna make you a deal,” his voice was coated with as much charisma as he could muster, his worries only poking through enough for you to notice, “I’ll give you the full treatment, but you can’t turn around.”

You were willing to play along with about any game he suggested. If he asked you to bend over backwards you’d extend your spine as far as it could go. 

You stood with your front as straight towards the shower head as you could, only feeling his presence behind you and his gentle hands lay on your shoulders to assure you wouldn’t turn around. 

“Just let me take care of you,” he edged closer, letting you feel his naked body enter your space, his face craning over your shoulder to gauge your reaction, “Just stay like this and let me feel you.”

It was less of a question and more of a plea, the only thing more pathetic sounding was the whimper that slipped out of you when you felt his body press against your back, warm and hesitant to press all the way into you, but close enough for you to feel his skin. 

“Okay,” you let your head lull back onto the space between his collar bone and shoulder, keeping your eyes closed, not that you could see anything from this angle anyways, “I’ll stay just like this, promise.”

“I just-“ you could hear his walls come up, suddenly trying to find the words to explain himself to you, “I’m not-“

“Eddie,” you whisper, eyes fluttering open to glance up at him as much as you could, “it’s okay. I’ll stay just like this, I’m just happy to be here with you.”

You gently found his hands resting at your hips and guided them up to your soapy scalp, “We both know the real reason I called you in here anyways,” you joked, and angled your head straight forward so he could run the pads of his fingers all through your 3-in-1 coated hair.

He let out a light chuckle at your joke, nearly feeling it catch in his throat as all the passed time of insecurity and locking his feelings away welled up and shattered with the intimacy of washing your hair. What did he do to deserve having you like this? For you to understand and want him to stay anyways? 

As much as his emotions clouded his vision and stunted his breathing, the rush of blood in between his legs broke his internal monologue. As overwhelmed as his mind was, his body couldn’t be convinced to focus on anything other than the sudsy girl pressed up against him, letting out little noises of satisfaction as he let his fingers absentmindedly massage away. 

“This’s nice,” you lean back into him a bit, “it’s like masturbating, you know? Always feels better when someone else does it for you.” You didn’t feel too guilty about the sexually charged comment, considering the fat rod that was pushing into your lower back. 

He let out a short chuckle, but his breathing was rapidly turning heavy as the air clouded with steam and your wet body rubbed against him, fully arching into his erection as if you wanted to get a better feel. 

“Can I wash the rest of you?” his request is polite, but his voice is lust filled and bordering on begging. 

You hum in agreement and lift your arms to let him slip his hands around you, one crossing your chest and the other reaching around to get more gel, “It technically is shampoo and body wash, and I was promised the full treatment here.” 

As much as you wanted to keep joking with him, finding silly things to comment on to break the tension, your resolve was quickly going down the drain as his big hands lathered you up. 

“You’re so beautiful,” his voice is just audible over the rushing of the shower water, “I’ve always thought so, but now I fucking know it.” 

His warm breath against your ear manages to cut through the heat of the steam, making you shiver despite it all. “Eddie,” you whine, his hands running up and down your torso, spending more time on your chest than the rest, but surely showering you in as much attention as his hands could reach.

Knowing that tone from earlier, already committing to knowing your body as intimately as you’ll allow him to, he immediately gives in and touches you exactly where you want him most. 

Most of the bubbles had dissipated, and he held you close to him, with one hand splayed across the center of your chest and the other dipping down to run two fingers through your now parting legs. 

He could feel the slick of your folds, standing out from the water cascading down your body, so warm and wet in a different way. 

“Fucking hell,” he groans out, letting his hips roll forwards slightly to find some friction against your backside, sliding his fingers from your hole up to your clit a few experimental times before letting his middle and ring fingers dip into you. 

When he had gone to town on you earlier in his van, which somehow felt like a million light years ago, you had taken a keen interest to the way his metal rings brushed up against your inner thighs and lower lips when he slipped his digits into you. As much as you had reveled in that new sensation, he had taken all his jewelry off along with the rest of his clothes and reservations before joining you in the shower. And now you could grind down onto his hand until he was completely buried to the hilt of his knuckles, no demon heads or upside down crosses in your way.

You wanted to wiggle and writhe around, feeling a bit week in the knees and desperate to buck your hips down against his pumping fingers. He pressed your chest tighter against him, lips pressed up against your ear, “I thought you promised to be good and stay still for me.”

He could feel your pussy clench at that, letting out a satisfied chuckle and  plunging his fingers right back into your cunt, letting the meat of his palm massage your clit in perfect time. 

“S’ this what you wanted,” his voice had the full bodied confidence of a man who didn’t just ask you to not turnaround to see him without a shirt on, “for me to be all sweet and wash your hair, then make you cum on my fingers like the dirty girl I know you are?” 

The smallest fraction of you wanted to be a brat and joke back at his silly use of shower innuendo, but your mind was almost entirely committed to the feeling of his hands on you and his dick rutting Into the meat of your ass.

“Eddie,” you could barely squeak his name out, “Eddie, can I touch you too, please? Please?” While his voice had been pleading before, you were literally begging to get your hands on him. 

“Like this,” you manage to open your eyes, head still resting against his shoulder and your hand snaking back to where his cock pressed into you, not fully grabbing it but motioning towards it with your hand. 

He snatches your wrist up with the hand not occupied with your tightening pussy, and for a second you fear that you had crossed a boundary. 

As much as you were willing to comply with not looking, you were bursting at the seams to touch him, make him feel good, show him how much you wanted to be right here with him and nowhere else. 

Before your mind could race any further, come to a screeching halt and apologize, he guides your hand up underneath your chin and demands “Spit.”

Your short circuiting brain dashes from his fingers, remaining crooked inside of you, his request, and the tone of voice he used to ask. You were fucked. Drool leaks from your lips before you even have the chance to process his words other than the immediate feeling of oh fuck yes. 

He brings your spit coated hand back to reach around, allowing you to wiggle it in between your wet bodies and find his eager cock already arching into your touch. 

He only faltered for a moment, the consistent dizzying pace of his fingers inside you stuttered the moment he felt your slick palm take an experimental stroke. The moan he let out was involuntary, along with a breathy “Oh, shit.”

Obviously you couldn’t size him up visually, but the weight of him in your palm was enough to have your mouth watering and thighs squeezing his wrist a bit tighter. Uncut? Maybe? With a pretty patch of curls to match his mop top? 

“Just like that, please,” you whine out into the steamy air, the two of you finding a joint rhythm between your hands and subtly rolling hips. 

“Your pussy feels so fucking good, so warm and tight for me,” every other word slurred into the curve of your neck. 

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you try and match his increasing speed with your hand, “Eddie, please don’t stop, I’m-“

“Shhhh,” he was getting lost in it too, “I’ve got you.”

Your legs turn to jelly, but he keeps you steadily upright with his support on your chest, focusing entirely on you despite the welling orgasm of his own rapidly approaching. 

It’s the crack in your voice that pushes him forward, the high pitched breathy moans crumbling and releasing the noises of pleasure from deep within your chest. His name  mixed in with ahhhs and uhhhs as if his name is the only word you know in this moment. 

“That’s right,” a sense of confidence welled in him as your limp body twitched against his and your cunt squeezed his relentless fingers, “cum all over my hand, doing so good for me.”

Despite your orgasm wracking your brain and body succumbing completely to whatever Eddie was willing to give you, the thought of collapsing into the shower floor never crossed your mind. He held you so close and steady against his chest, it crosses your mind that you may not be putting any weight onto your feet at all by this point. 

Rather than catch your breath as you come down from your quaking orgasm, you slip deeper into the throws of pleasure, biting your lip and craning your neck backwards so he can see the fucked out expression on your face. A few more steady, enthusiastic pumps mixed with a desperate kiss, wet and at an awkward angle, breathless and needy, perfect and dizzying, sends Eddie over the edge with you.

The deep rumble of his chest against your back as he groans into your open mouth, encourages you to keep your pace as he gently fucks himself into your hand. He’s spilling into your hand and halting his wiggling fingers buried inside you, letting the momentum that the two of you had built up come to a pulsing end. 

The two of you stay tangled in each other for a moment, hands sticky and brows dewy with sweat despite the running water, which had long lost its heat and now settled at a less than comfortable lukewarm. Neither one of you wanted to move. Eddie would have stayed there until his legs cramped and the shower turned ice cold. 

His eyes were screwed shut, head tilted back, still holding you close until you wiggled from his iron grip to bring your cum covered fingers up to your lips to suck two of them clean. 

“Jesus Christ,” he was thankful that he had opened eyes in enough time to witness that, “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, you know that?”

You let out a mischievous giggle with his cum coated fingers still in your mouth, glancing over your shoulder to catch the look on his face. Equal parts hungry to pick you up and fuck you against the shower wall right now, and melting down to nothing and slipping away down the drain, unable to even start comprehending what had just transpired between you two. 

You let your fingers go with a pop and turn back around, “Don’t act like you weren’t going to do the same,” you let the chilling water hit your face, focusing on anything other than turning around and lunging at him, wrapping your body around his and letting your skin melt into his. 

He gives into temptation and lets his pruny fingers meet his tongue. He knew what you tasted like from your escapade in his van eaierler, but he’d seize any change he got to take in as much of you as he could. 

“That was,” he started, unsure how to sum how he felt, good, great, perfect, none of those words felt correct, “fuck, yeah- that,”

“Me too,” you press your back into his again, “Thank you Eddie.”

Before he can stumble over his words any more, you ask if he’s okay for you to shut the water off, and you ask if he’d be willing to spare some sleep clothes for you to borrow. You curiously stay in the shower while he takes your excuse for him to leave unseen. 

After toweling off and slipping into the old t-shirt and boxers he left folded up on the counter for you, you found him already dressed and in bed, set criss cross and packing a bong. 

“Post-shower-orgasm smoke, cuddle, then sleep?”

“I’d love nothing more,” you get cozy among the pillows and let the swirling smoke and easy conversation lull you into a comforting half sleep. 

An easy energy settled between the two of you, a silent understanding that you weren’t going to ask him questions, and a building comfort that made him almost ready to show you. 

You slept tucked into his side, and didn’t even mind his snoring or tossing in the night. Every time he rolled over, your sleeping form just found a new way to mold into him. It was the best he had slept in months. 

A steady stream of sunlight blazing directly through the blinds and into your eyes pulled you from your slumber, gorging your groggy eyes to open and crunched up limbs to search for room to stretch. The involuntary fluttering of your eyes and long extension of your libs was far beyond your control. 

“Oh!” You whisper out to yourself once your brain manages to catch up with your waking body, realizing the somewhat compromising position the night had thrown you into, your leg hiked up and clinging to Eddie’s waist, with both your arms scrunching up his t-shirt and leaving a strip of stomach exposed. 

A negligible, unnoticeable few inches between where his sweatpants hung low on his hips and where your gripping arms had balled up his hole-ridden t-shirt stood before your gaze. 

You didn’t mean to stare, and the moment you caught yourself doing so, you quickly and quietly removed your tangled limbs from his and repositioned yourself so that he was half spooning you, eyes facing far away from his unintentionally exposed scar tissue. 

You knew it was probably going to be worse than you were expecting. You hadn’t dedicated much thought to what it could be, or what maybe had happened. You just knew it made him feel like he wasn’t worth your time, and you needed to make him feel seen and safe enough to know that that couldn’t be true. 

Everyone has insecurities, sure. There are surely parts of yourself you weren’t eager to share with the world, let alone someone you’re romantically interested in. You had moved past being astonished that someone who wore gaudy costume jewelry and sang boisterous music for a bar of twelve patrons with the energy of someone who had sold out Madison Square Garden would ever shrink into their shell the way you had seen Eddie. Now, laying in his bed and knowing that whatever it was, the scars were more than what was on his skin.

“Mfffmmm,” he groans and shifts behind you, wiggling beneath the sheets and snaking his arms to wrap around your waist and pull you close into him, “This is nice.”

His morning voice was scratchy and barely above a whisper. 

“I think you just like that my butt is all pressed up on you,” you joke, dodging admiring that you’d rather be here than anywhere in the world in this moment. 

“Yeah, I’m not complaining,” he digs his nose into the side of your neck, “But you smell nice too, ’s nice to wake up to.”

“That 3-in-1’s really doing it for ya?”

“No, you do smell like that a little, but more just like yourself. Girl smell.”

“I’ll get started on that perfume line right away. Girl Smell. Might be a million dollar business venture.”

“I just woke up,” the sleep in his voice melted away and his hands running up and down your sides were more deliberate, “Don’t make fun of me. Plus I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed making me all nervous.”

“Anyone with magic fingers like you has nothing to be worried about,” you keep the conversation playful but allow the unspoken truth, that he truly has nothing to worry about with you, be spoken.

“You just like ‘em cuz I washed your hair so well,” he plays with a strand, letting his finger pads dig into your scalp and scratch away, massaging a bit harder after you let out a satisfied groan.

“You must have lots of practice,” you reach an arm back blindly and half smack the side of his shoulder before finding his messy bedhead, staying resolutely facing the poster-covered wall. 

“You’ve got really pretty hair for a boy,” you let your finger wrap around a curl. 

“For a boy?! Excuse me, I have pretty hair period.”

“Yeah, suppose that’s true” you giggle at his joking defensiveness, “It’s incredible that it’s this nice considering you use the same thing to condition your hair as you do to wash your balls.”

“If you show me what kind of shower products you like I’ll replace the three in one,” he nuzzles his face into the hand playing with your hair, “but maybe the three in one is what’s keeping it so luscious.”

“I wanna wash your hair next time,” you say absentmindedly, meaning it wholeheartedly, with little anxiety after that you had implied a next time. 

“Yeah maybe next time,” his voice trailed off, still soft and flirty but edging on a tone that let you know this conversation was just about over. 

“Eddie,” it came out as hardly more than a whisper. You wait for him to respond but the gravity of the silence between you quickly became unbearable and you needed to break whatever tension this was. 

“I meant it yesterday when I said I wanted to go on more dates with you. You know that right?”

“Mhmm” he mumbles into your shoulder, still holding you against him.

“We have a lot of fun at the bar and stuff,” you search to find your words, “But I want you to know that I don’t just like you cuz you make me laugh and have magic guitar fingers. I like pretty much everything about you so far, and I want to know you more if you’ll let me.”

Your voice wavers, and your message is perhaps more vague than you would have liked, but the deep exhale he lets out conveys that he hears you loud and clear. 

“I know I’ve been…” he starts, “It’s just that I…”

“It’s okay Eddie,” you flip around, rolling so that your chests are pressed together and noses are almost touching, “I don’t want to push it. You can tell me when you’re ready, I just want you to know that I like you a whole lot and I don’t think there’s much that could change that right now.”

His eyelashes flutter shut, forehead touching yours, “Thank you.” 

“Unless you have a huge chest tattoo of something wildly offensive, or like a tramp stamp that says ‘I heart Ronald Regan.” He appreciates your natural ability to make him laugh even in situations like this. 

“Nah,” he pulls back and gives you a serious look, “Fuck Ronald Regan.” 

The two of you burst into a fit of giggles, rolling deeper into the sheets and settling into a comfortable cuddle again, with your head on his chest, face angled up to his and legs all tangled up.

Coming down from the beginnings of the conversation that had been lingering above both of your heads, you place a few reassuring kisses up his jaw and find your way up to his parted lips. 

“Mmmm,” he hums into the deepening kiss to signal you to stop, “I probably have mega morning breath,” he huffs into a cupped hand which makes you laugh and flop your head back into his chest.

“It’s okay, if you do then I do too and didn’t notice,” you peek back up at him, “But if you want to brush teeth and get your day started I won’t stop you.”

“No, no,” he grabs your cheeks and pulls you back up for a smushed kiss, “I wanna stay here all day with you, if you’ll let me. Our second date, we can order a pizza and watch movies here, won’t even have to put pants on.”

“That sounds really nice, I don’t have work today so I’m all yours.”

“All mine,” his grin reaches the apples of his cheeks, “I will go brush my teeth though, cuz I think this second date involves a lot of kissing.”

“Got a spare I could use?” you shuffle out of bed before situating yourself  on the edge of the bed, “Or do you brush with three in one too?”

“Oh my god,” he chuckles, “you with the three in one. After today I promise there will be three separate shower products stocked and ready for your use.”

He manages to find a spare toothbrush in the closet and keeps you wrapped in his arms while both of you take turns spitting into the sink. Looking at the two of you, eyes still crusty from sleep, in the scratched up bathroom mirror, a weird sense of domesticity washes over the two of you. 

Eddie realizes that less than 48 hours ago he was too nervous to make a move to kiss you, and now he was already thinking about making room for your toiletries in his bathroom. 

As comforting and easy it was to do normal everyday things with you at his side, he couldn’t help but notice your nipples poking through his oversized t-shirt you slept in and the way your toothpaste full mouth was framed by your perfect, spit slicked lips. 

“You got a spit kink or something?” You half joke, pressing your ass into the growing rod you could feel nudging against your side.

“Sue me,” he spits and wipes the corners of his mouth, pulling you by the waist into a minty kiss. “Bed? All day?”

“Mhmm,” you agree and lean in to kiss him again, standing on your toes and letting out a shriek of surprise when he scoops you up bridal style and travels the short distance to his bedroom. 

“Eddie!” You yelp out as he gently tosses you back into the pile of sheets. 

“I know I’m no Hulk Hogan, but moving guitar amps is pretty good strength and conditioning.”

“Shut up, you never help your friends carry the equipment.” You think of all the times you watched his poor bandmates lug their equipment after a show while he seamlessly flirted with you. 

“Not when you’re around, you’ve got me there.”

As promised the two of you laze around all morning, bowls of cereal in bed and a bowl of weed to accompany it, switching between fits of giggles and tangled in the sheets while a B horror movie plays on the little TV set propped up near the end of Eddie’s bed. 

He tells you about how he used to live with his Uncle in a trailer down the street until he saved up enough to start renting his own, the three attempts to finish high school and the relief when the local mechanic shop hired him despite his reputation around town as a satan worshiper. He talks a bit about his friends, some who’ve stayed in town and others who’ve long moved away. 

You listen attently, taking in every spared detail. In return he asks you about where you’re from, why the hell you had moved to a bumfuck town in Indiana to be a bartender. He assures you that you wouldn’t have liked him if you had known each other in high school and you laugh and tell him you were far from popular yourself. 

After inhaling a large pizza and running out of VHS tapes you demand a “post pizza bloated cuddle” to which he happily obliges.

“Wish we could do this every day,” he pulls you into him.

“Then we’d need a much bigger movie selection, and maybe body doubles to go do our jobs,” you don’t disagree, although lazy and uneventful the day felt perfect. 

“Don’t wanna go to work tomorrow,” he whines, holding you a little tighter.

“Me either, but we can’t be in this lazy cuddle bubble forever,” his hands came up to massage and scratch your scalp, which he now knew you loved, “but next time we’re both free maybe we can have that third date.”

“If I remember correctly, date three is when I finally get to kiss you,” he jokingly smooches behind your ear and down your neck. 

“Only if you behave,” you reply sarcastically, “you’ve been such a gentleman lately, but you’ve been pushing it mister.” 

“I’ve never been accused of being a gentleman before,” his voice trails off as he buries his nose into your neck, “Will you let me be a gentleman now, make you feel good?” His tone was suddenly dripping with lust, sending a rush of arousal through your already so-relaxed body. 

“Mhmm,” you agree and let your body mold back into his a bit more, pressing yourself against him and letting his hands start to wander.

You arch your neck around from your spooning position and search for his lips, your kiss starting out gentle but not staying that way for very long. 

“You’re just somethin’ else,” he breathes out in between heated kisses, his eyes big and round, earnest, making your heart swell.

“Can I make you feel good too?” you roll your hips into his erection, your breath catching in your throat when you feel it pulsing under his boxers and pressing into the space between your legs. 

You flip around to straddle him, not hiding your intention to grind yourself down onto his covered cock, moans from both of you interrupting the hungry exchange of tongues and lips.

A shaky breath grabs your attention and he finds the air to exhale out, “Can I fuck you?”

You bring your hands to his cheeks to pull him into a deep kiss, continuing to rock your hips against him, giving him words as well you mumble a “Fuck yes, please, please Eddie.”

He finds the hem of your shirt and slips it over your shoulders, the momentary break in kissing makes you whine. He immediately makes it up to you by paying delightful attention to your exposed chest, leaving sloppy wet kisses on every inch of skin he had access to, “fuck”s and “so perfect” breaking them up. 

You instinctively reach down in between the two of you to take his hard cock into your hand, still pressing your core against it, but taking the rest into your hand to stroke him over his boxers, the choked out moan that escapes him is the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

You’re losing yourself in the feeling of his weight in your palm, sitting up to see his gorgeous fucked out expression, pinched eyebrows and flushed cheeks.

He swore he’d died and gone to heaven, despite all his sins, with you above him, lip tucked in between your grinning teeth as you rubbed up on him. Fuck, there was no going back after this.

You lean down to resume making out for a moment, missing the feeling of his nose pressed into the side of yours and his too-perfect eyelashes brushing the tops of your cheeks. 

“We can, um-“ you catch your breath, hips stuttering as you find your words, “I can turn around. Or we can make a blindfold or something.” 

His heart swelled at the thought that amidst fucking yourself against his lap you still had the courtesy to think of his comfort, his obvious insecurity, the elephant in the room that he was so desperately trying to shoo away. 

“I want you,” his voice strangely steady, “and I’ll let you have me, no stipulations.” 

You nod with a “Please.”

“Only because, I plan on fucking you every chance I get,” his tone makes you clench your thighs, “So we might as well rip this bandaid off now, because if you’re going to be my girlfriend I don’t want you worrying that I’m hiding something from you.”

He flips you over so you’re now laying beneath him, eyes still glassy with lust and mind swirling with the words he’s just let out.

“I’m gonna take off my shirt now, and I don’t want you to pretend like everything is fine, or that you don’t notice anything, because that’ll be a thousand times worse, okay? I know it’s bad. It doesn’t hurt or anything, but I know it’s not easy to look at.”

With that he pull this black t-shirt off by the back neck collar, and bares his soul to you. You can tell he’s examining your face for a reaction, very carefully managing your facial expressions for his benefit. 

He was right, it wasn’t easy to look at. Only because it made you wonder what horrible thing had happened to leave half of his torso, hip, thigh, and what you could only assume traveled onto his back as well, left entirely torn away and scarred. 

“And-“ he cut off your wandering eyes with his words, “Don’t ask what happened. I’ll tell you eventually I just- We can’t have that discussion if we’re about to have sex.” 

You nodded with understanding, you knew better than to ask. 

You think that your snooping and seed of knowledge helped hide some of your shock, his comment about missing a nipple dampening your realization that he was telling the truth, the scar tissue running so deep that his entire pec was covered in a jagged pink , slightly mishapen scar tissue, and leaving his opposite nipple to stand alone on his chest. 

The one thing that did leave you in a bit of shock was half of a tattoo on his hip that abruptly ended where the scar tissue started. Some sort of zombie head, the black ink lines all coming to a halt when’re his skin had been injured.

You let a tentative hand come up, fearing he’ll flinch away, but he doesn’t. You touch his chest, feeling the textural difference as you let your palm run across his chest and down to his hip. 

“You know, I still think you’re super hot, right?” You try to assure him, but he only lets out a dry chuckle. 

“I mean it,” you sit up a bit, pulling your hand from its exploration of his skin and bringing it to your own chest, using three fingers to cover your left nipple, “you’d still like me, right?” 

The softness in his face almost made you jump up to wrap him into a hug, you wanted him to know that everything was okay and he was safe with you, whatever happened was in the past and he didn’t have to worry. Although the moment was emotionally charged, neither of you could ignore the fact that you were both ravenously horny for each other. 

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide this from me,” you pull his face down to yours, “but I’m glad you showed me, because I’m so fucking ready for you to ruin me.”

He lurches forward and lets his body weight collapse down onto you, your legs widening to wrap around his hips, arm and legs locking him against you. 

Feeling his bare chest pressed against yours, lips on your neck and hips rutting into your spread legs, has your head spinning. 

“Please Eddie,” you whine, “let me feel you.”

Without missing a beat he shoves the waistband of his boxers down just enough to reach his thighs, hard dick springing free in the little space in between you, and he snatches your wrist and shoves it in between your bodies without unlatching his lips from your collar bone. 

“Oh fuck,” you couldn’t see what you were grasping, just like in the shower, but you didn’t dare push him off of you to catch a glimpse. He was all over you, hands tangled in your hair, groans and whimpers hardly making their way out in between the wet sloppy kisses he spread across your neck and chest. 

He slips a hand down your body, gracing your ribcage with his fingertips, a stark contrast to how they suddenly part your lips and rub the pool of slick from your hole up to your clit. 

“So wet, this for me?” He quirks and eyebrow and sinks a digit into you, causing your mouth to open and hips to wiggle up to ask for more.

“Yes ’s for you,” you breathe out, wanting to give him some pushback, wipe the smug look off his face, but not finding an ounce of courage to do so. You just let your head lull back and eyelids flutter shut as he curls his fingers perfectly inside you. “All for you.”

You use your free hand to push your underwear as far down your hips as this position will allow, not wanting to shift your focus from the feeling of him on your lips, his pulsing cock in your hand. 

“Need you,” you gasp out, partially at the feeling of his knuckle deep fingers buried inside of you, and equally the fucked out look on his face looming over yours, eyes blown wide and mouth parted on the verge of begging for more, “Eddie, need you to fuck me, please.”

He sits up and removes his fingers from you, earning a wince and a whine. He helps crunch your legs up to remove your panties, leaving your legs raised and crossed over one of his shoulders. He takes a moment to kiss your ankle and tenderly run his hands down the length of your leg. He took the moment to take off his own boxers, leaving you both bare in front of each other for the first time. 

“You’ve got a pretty cock,” you complement him earnestly, it was pretty. He gave you a halfhearted scoff and an eyeball in return. “No Eds, I mean it. It’s big too, good thing you got me ready with your fingers. That and I’ve been soaking wet for you for like 48 hours now, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” you giggle. His shy smile tells you he’s willing to take the compliment. 

You let your legs fall from their perch on his shoulder and fall to either side of his hips, opening yourself up to him. He’s staring, mouth half agape. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but to have you laid out like this before him, fully ready to give yourself over to him and wanting him wholly in return, how couldn’t he stare. 

You let your hand stroke up his cock, bringing his attention back to where the two of you nearly met. You angle him closer to you, you’re slowly pumping fist brushing against your own center. He snaps out of his trance and nudges your hand away, using his own grip to tap his thick cock against your opening. 

Tap, tap tap. His head meets your slick folds, hips jerking slightly with every tap.

“Don’t tease me Eds,” you push your hips forward and are only met with him rubbing his dick into the outside of your pussy, “want you inside, need it so bad.”

He want’s to be a bother and continue his teasing, watching your writhe and squirm, but he can’t find it in him to deny you, so he presses the tip in and gauges your face for a reaction, only finding babbling bliss and pleas for more. 

He’s sinking into you at an agonizing pace, craning down from his kneeling position above you to frame your head with bent arms and his lips on yours as you moan into each other’s mouths, him filling you more and more. 

Your hands are in his hair, keeping your foreheads anchored together, breathing in tandem. He finally sinks all the way down and you can feel it in your lungs. You wrap your ankles around his back and squeeze him into you tighter, not wanting him to move just yet, wanting to just feel how deep he filled you up for the first time. 

He lets out a shaky exhale and squeezes his eyes shut, “You were fuckin’ made for me,” he punctuates this with a subtle roll forward of his hips, lips falling into yours as if they had nowhere else to go. 

You let your legs fall back, unclasping his hips, and move your hands from his wild hair down to his thighs, pushing him to start fucking you. 

“Feel’s so fucking good,” you whisper into his mouth, your hands hardly assisting him anymore as he pumps in and out of your slick cunt, almost knocking the air out of you each time. 

He grabs your chin with the hand that’s not propping himself up, “look at me,” his pace doesn’t falter and your mind nearly turns to mush, “you’re mine now, yeah?”

“Yes Eddie,” it comes out as a broken sob, your eyes barely able to focus on him with how close he was, “all yours, only yours.” Your mind had barely made the decision to say the words before they had escaped your lips, a dumbfounded truth serum setting over you in your cock drunk state. 

You knew it to be true though, there was no going back after this, and you were willing to give yourself over fully, and accept anything he would give you. 

“Ahh, fuck” you let out after a particularly harsh thrust, fists now dripping the sheets beneath you. 

“So fucking good for me,” his hands now found purchase on your hips, setting a rhythm between you that only a musician could. 

Through glassy eyes you admire him. Curly bangs stuck to his forehead, frantically thrusting torso making his tattoos look like stop motion cartoons, and through it all the scars are hardly noticeable. If anything, they’re just another part of him, the person between your legs that you found incredibly sexy, insecurities and all. 

His perfect hands slid from your hips to your shoulders, now using the weight of your torso as leverage to fuck into you harder. His eyes bore into yours, searching for eye contact and finding your reassuring gaze that told him this was everything you wanted and more. 

“Yes, yes, oh fuck,” you babble out. His little grunts and whimpers send volts of electricity to your core and fog your mind with lust and desire.

He moves a hand down to meet your center, palm splaying across your abdomen and keeping you pinned to the bed, thumb methodically catching your clit with each thrust. He didn’t have to ask if it felt good, the rolling back of your eyes and mouth so wide he could see your molars were enough of an indication that he was headed in the right direction.

“Mhmmmm,” you could hardly form words, but smiled up through your fucked out gaze at him, wide beam and lust fulled eyes telling him that he couldn’t possibly be making you feel any better than you do right now. 

He leans back a bit, balancing himself on his thighs keeping his pace, thumb on your clit and eyes locked into yours. Through a groan he brings his unoccupied hand up to his face, biting down on the knuckle of his pointer finger, trying not to blow his load at the feeling of you squeezing around him. 

Of course, this only made him look hotter to you, and thus you flexed around his cock even tighter. 

Unexpectedly, he pulls out of you completely and before you can muster up the breath to complain, he’s dipped his lapping tongue against you. He fully buries himself into your cunt, cutting off the rhythm, of his cock with the somehow perfectly timed pulsing of his hungry tongue. 

You can’t help but cry out, arch your hips, and send a hand flying to his hair to ground yourself. Through frantic panting and wet slurping sounds you think you can make out a “just had to taste you.”

Completely breathless, you can hardly conjure a response before he’s plunging into you again, fucking into you deeply and capturing your parted lips into a passionate kiss.

Something takes over you, and you’re suddenly wrapping your legs around his hips and using some found momentum to flip the two of your over. Suddenly, you’re on top of him, his curls splayed around his pretty face and body laid flat beneath you. 

Before you had a moment to question yourself, you anchor your hands onto his shoulders and try your best to pick up the pace he had set earlier. Hips rolling and wet slapping sounds coming from between you. 

“Jesus- fuck,” he stuttered in his movements, unsure if he wanted his hands on your face or your tits or your hips or… they landed on your ass and he wouldn’t argue with his first instincts. 

“Eddie, I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” your words were breathy and mixed with lustful gasps, “always wanted to have you like this.”

“We could have done this a long time ago, huh?” He tries not to think about all the time wasted, and instead fantasies about all the making up for lost time you’ll do in the near future. 

“You were always giving me those eyes while you played with your band,” you looked angelic to him, face hovering above him, framed only be the poor overhead lighting and flickering VHS menu of the last film you’d finished, “I always wanted you, just wasn’t sure you wanted me like this too.”

Your statement was simple enough, but he knew what you meant. You wanted him more than a fuck, and that’s what he had been worried about all along. Now, to have you sunk down on his cock like this, telling him that you had been scared in the same way as he had, only made him roll his hops up into you and pull your cheeks down for a sloppy kiss to seal the deal. You were finally on the same page. 

Switching from a bounce of your hips, you lean back slowly and shift to more of a roll, keeping his cock buried deep inside of you while you gyrate your hips. Your arm extends back in between his spread legs to keep you stable, your torso finding its own rhythm in the midst of pleasure and fucking yourself onto his cock. 

“So fucking perfect,” he gasps out, hardly able to take in the sight of your body writhing and rolling above him. He manages to find bait of sense in his brain and brings his hand back to your lower stomach, thumb flicking over your clit with every thrust of your hips. 

“Oh,eddieohmygosh,” it came out as one breathy syllable, “pleasedon’tstopthat.”

He gently fucks himself up into you, matching your movements and not throwing you off of the sinful rhythm you’ve set, just managing too punctuate each bounce with the raise of his hips into yours and the increased pressure of his thumb on your clit. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he loves the way each breathy word out of your lips is matched with the beautiful bounce of your tits, “Eddie, you’re gonna-“

He doesn’t change a thing, the pressure on your clit, the arch of his hips, he would sooner die than rob you of pleasure or ruin this moment. Every moment he get’s to look at you, he thinks it’s the most beautiful you’ve ever looked, but he knows for sure that this one takes the cake. 

“Ahhh, I’m-“ you don’t  have to finish your statement for him to know you’re cumming on his cock, the pulsing squeeze of your walls and intense concentration from him not to bust on the spot, and rather to focus on the parting of your lips and the twitching of your hips on his. 

“That’s it,” he keeps his thumb on your clit, but lets up on the pressure as soon as he feels you jerk against him, “that’s my girl.”

You lurch down and wrangle him into a kiss, only wanting to feel his lips on yours as you come down from your orgasm. You’re still slowly rolling your hips against his, but focused more on the feeling of his cheeks under your palms and his lips on yours. 

“You okay?” He asks in between tongue tied kisses. 

“Yes, perfect, thank you,” you arch your back into him a bit, “ready for more.” 

Although you were fully prepared to bounce on his cock until he came, you were pleasantly surprised when his large hands surrounded your waist and hoisted you up off the bed. He wanted to try and keep his cock inside you, but accepted defeat as he managed to situate on the edge of the bed.

He shifted around you and situated himself in between your legs. You laid out, everything below the knees hanging off the edge of his hand-me-down mattress. He stood above you and lowered himself to land a few wet kisses on your breasts, his hard cock pressing into your needy center. 

He jerked you up by the underside of your knees, pressing your thighs into your chest and sinking down into your open pussy, causing a deep groan to emit from both of you.

Here he was, scars and all, standing above you and thrusting into you as if it was the last thing he would ever do, and he looked like an angel to you. 

More thoughtful than you may have initially given him credit for, his thumb finds your clit again and he politely, yet breathlessly asks, “Can you come again for me, pretty girl?”

How could you say no to that. You dumbly nod and throw your head back against the sheets, your hands balled up at your sides as he thrusted into you, grunting and moaning your name. 

“So fucking good Eddie,” you manage to squeak out, “You make me feel so fucking good.”

“Ah fuck, yeah, yes,” his voice nearly jumped an octive, signaling his release. “Where should I-“ he began to ask.

“Inside,” it came out as two syllables in-between breaths, “It’s okay you can come-“

“Fuuuuuck,” a strangled moan and a collapse of his arms, along with the delicious pulse of his cock inside you signaled his release. 

Before you could eve catch your breath, regain consciousness of the situation, he was reeling back and replacing his softening cock with two fingers. He latched his lips to your clit and began to suck in time with his finger’s replication of his cock’s earlier movements. 

“Oh my god,” you were truly taken aback, his face buried in your cunt and setting you back on track to your building orgasm. 

It didn’t take more than a minute and a half of him slurping your mixed releases from your cunt and bullying your g-spot with those damn magic fingers to send you hurdling towards orgasm number two, shaking and crying out his name. 

It wasn’t until your legs were truly shaking and your hand was searching for his forehead to push him away from overstimulation that he finally let up and let up of your pussy with a wet pop and a smug look.

“You come?” He asks again, just as he had in the back of his van. 

You don’t have the energy to respond, only roll your eyes and flip him the bird as you flop back down onto his bedsheets. 

He managed to get you a warm rag and a cold glass of water, stroking your har and asking if you felt alright.

“Feel perfect Eddie,” you say after a long gulp, “you took such good care of me, you always do.”

He stroked your hair and positioned the two of you back comfortably beneath his sheets. “Thank you,” he starts, but you cut him off with a kiss. 

“No, thank you,” you kiss him again, “for trusting me.” The look in your eyes could nearly make him melt. “You’re really something special Eddie, I mean it.”

“Special enough for a fourth date?”

You smack his chest and bury your head into his neck. “I don’t think we have to count dates if I’m your girlfriend now…”

Those dimples you adore perk up on his cheeks, and he bear hugs you, scarred chest and all. 

“What time should I set the alarm for tomorrow?” He asks with a sorrow in his voice. 

“How about never,” you roll over to trample him with another kiss, smothering his body in yours, knowing you’d be luck enough to have many moments like this soon to come. 

A/N: I'm sorry I have long lost the tracking of a taglist (crying emoji) don't want to bother anyone who asked to be added the last time I wrote a pic ten thousand years ago, so I hope this reaches everyone it needs to <3

[lady-ashfade]

Strange Dream.

Prince Zuko x Spirit!Human!Reader

-♡ I just had a thought and ran with it. Haven’t watched the show in so long so not the best expert. But my dad remembers it all- anyway. Idk what I’m doing with this.

-♡ words: 564

-♡ warnings: defensive zuko, kinda fluffy.

the forest was cold and wet, the only thing to keep him comfort was knowing his uncle was beside him. but still, he didn’t feel like himself anymore after hearing what his father & sister had been planning. he worked himself to the edge each day hoping to go home and be welcomed back to take his place by his father. and yet there was no truth to that promise.

his eyes feel shut when he laid down by the fire, he was so drained. the past few days and have been hell for them. he wanted to let his thoughts go and the painful stabbing at his heart fade so he slept peacefully.

and he didn’t expect to be awaken with the feelings of a warm and caring hand on his cheek. zuko shot up from the ground and startled the person kneeling over him with wide eyes. the stranger jumps back while he raising his hands and ready to burn them. but there was something about them, they didn’t seem dangerous but in fact…strange.

their clothes were silk white and their eyes made him feel warm underneath their gaze, like he wasn’t a monster at all but something to be understood.

just before he could ask them a question the area he was in had him look around. it was hazy and more beautiful, the trees greener and he could feel natural energy on his skin. his uncle was no where to be seen but neither was the small camp they had set up.

“Where am I?” he spoke with growing concern. the person smiles and titles their head up at him.

“You’re sleeping, but at the moment I am here. in your mind.” you open your hands to show the area. this forest was special to your people and when a soul needs guidance you are willing to help.

“Tell me, is there something I can help you with?” your soft smile and happy attitude made him hesitate to let you in. who in the hell were you? and why did he feel so drawn to you…

“No, I have everything under control. So you can leave.” Your face didn’t drop a bit as you continued to sit there and look up at him with beautiful eyes. “I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want me to.” his eyes glare down at you and he sighs in frustration. and you knew right then he was going to be a hard cookie to crack but you liked a challenge.

“Just leave me alone! Get out of my head.” He hit his head slightly while raising his voice but his tone didn’t scare you. you had many like him before but they all caved. all they needed was a ear to listen.

“Know this, prince Zuko. Many have denied what they needed and came to ruin, you’ll let me in sooner or later.” letting out a breath as your fingertips start to light up underneath your skin.

“And I’ll be here willing to listen.” you point your fingertip at him.

Zuko doesn’t have time to answer before he starts falling backwards towards the ground only to not meet the stern ground but to be reawaken. he was no longer sleeping but back in the wet forest with his uncle giving him a curious stare.

it was a strange dream, with a even stranger person.

[canirove]

Pedri Imagine

Author’s note: This is a request I got on Wattpad, something sweet and cute after he got injured at the Euros. Hope you like it and thank you for reading! 💜

Masterlist

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

“Are you feeling a bit better?”

“Yeah” Pedri says over facetime. “I'm sorry about earlier, tho.”

“Uh?”

“When I kept ignoring your calls and texted you that I wanted to be left alone. I was kind of rude.”

“Pedri, you had just left the game with an injury that meant that the tournament was over for you. It is normal to be angry and frustrated and to want to be left alone.”

“Yes, but… I don't know” he shrugs. “I feel like I was a bit rude with you. With the person who is always there for me on the good and bad days.”

“It's ok” I smile. “But urgh, don't remind me of how much it sucks that I am stuck here with work and that I've only gotten to watch you play once. I should be there taking care of you, not about to start a 24 hour shift at the hospital.”

“I miss you too. But I'm fine, I'm taken care of. Your patients need you a lot more than I do” he says.

“You are being taken care of by who? Nurse Ferran?” I chuckle.

“Among others. Unai has been offering to carry me around.”

“Lucky bitch” I whisper.

“What?” Pedri laughs.

“Nothing.”

“I heard you. Who is a lucky bitch, me because I get to be carried around by Unai, or him because he gets to carry me?” he smirks.

“What do you think, Pedri?”

“Him, obviously. Carrying me is an honour.”

“What are you now? A prince?” I laugh.

“A king, actually. King of your heart” he winks, making me laugh again.

“I'm glad you are making jokes, tho. That means you are feeling a bit better.”

“I'm not joking. I am the king of your heart.”

“Of course you are” I smile. “Have they told you when are you coming back?”

“Actually…” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I'm not.”

“What?”

“They are allowing me to stay with the team and start my recovery here.”

“Oh, that's… that's really nice of them.”

“It is. See how De La Fuente isn't that bad?” he says with a teasing smile.

“Yeah, whatever” I reply. “But if you are staying…”

“We won't be seeing each other in person until they've made me champion of Europe. Which they will.”

“I see…”

“Aren't you happy about it?”

“Of course I am, Pedri. Seeing you this positive after what happened makes me really happy. Relieved too. But I just… I just wished I could get to at least see you once before you come back. Get to enjoy the atmosphere of the Euros together and not just through a screen.”

“Me too… But this isn't my last Euros or international tournament. There will be more in the future, and we will experience them together. I promise you.”

“Ok” I say, forcing myself to smile. “Anyway, I gotta go. My shift is about to start and I need to finish getting ready. Can I leave you in the hands of nurse Ferran and nurse Unai?”

“You can” he chuckles. “But what about you?”

“Uh? What do you mean?”

“Are you ok? You looked a bit gutted after I told you I'm staying in Germany.”

“I'm fine, Pedri. Don't worry. I'll call you tomorrow, ok?”

“Ok. Go be a superhero” he smiles. “I love you.”

“I love you too” I smile back before hanging up.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

A few days later…

“They are very optimistic about the injury. They say that if I work hard during the summer, I'll be back sooner than I think” Pedri says.

“Yeah, well. Let's not rush things.”

“Oh, hello!” Ferran says, showing up on the screen next to Pedri.

“Hello” I smile. 

“How are things in Barcelona?” he asks me.

“Same as always. Over there I've been told you've been so good at your job as a nurse that you may steal mine.”

“Yeah… But I don't think there will be a second time. I don't know how you can deal with him, Pedri is the worst patient ever.”

“Hey!” Pedri complains, giving Ferran a little push and only managing to make him laugh.

“It's the truth, bro” he shrugs. “Anyway, have you shared the news yet?”

“The news? What news?” I say.

“I… ummm…” Pedri says, nervously touching his face. “I've got a surprise for you.”

“Ok…”

“It's a good surprise, of course. It doesn't have to do with my injury or anything.”

“Pedri, c'mon!” Ferran urges him.

“Yes, ummm… I got you a ticket for the final.”

“You what?” I say.

“I made some calls, and you are gonna be free for a couple of days, which means that you can come watch the Euros final with me and my family.”

“Pedri, that's… how… I mean…”

“Someone is speechless” Ferran chuckles.

“But how… How did you manage to do this?” 

“Perks of being Pedri González” he shrugs. 

“I… I don't know what to say, I…”

“See? Speechless?” Ferran says again.

“Just say yes. Say that you are coming to watch them make me champion of Europe and then celebrate with us” Pedri says.

“I… Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Pedri. I'm going to Germany” I smile.

“Thank God” he sighs. “I thought you were going to say no.”

“And miss the chance of being carried around by Unai while celebrating that Spain has won the Euros? No way” I say with a teasing smile. 

“What?” Ferran says with a confused look.

“Inside joke” Pedri says. “Will I see you in a couple of days, then?”

“You will. Germany, here I come!”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“See? I told you the will make me champion of Europe!” Pedri says, limping towards me.

“They did, yes” I laugh. “But please be careful” I say, nodding towards his knee.

“I'm fine, don't worry” he smiles as he reaches me. “Did you enjoy the game?”

“It was the best. I still can't believe I'm here, to be honest.”

“You're welcome” he says, still smiling. “Now, before the boys come kidnap me again… Can I get my first kiss as champion of Europe?” he smirks.

“You can. But” I say, stopping him as he wraps his arms around me. “First I need to say something.”

“Yes, Unai will carry you somewhere if that's what you want.”

“What?” I laugh. “I mean, I do want a photo with him later. And maybe we could take it while he is carrying me… But that's not what I wanted to say.”

“Then?”

“I wanted to say that I am so proud of you, Pedri. And not only because of that medal around your neck. I am really proud of you because of everything you've done during this tournament even if you didn't manage to finish it on the pitch, and especially because of how positive and strong you've been. Not many people are capable of doing that after what happened to you, you know?”

“Yeah, well” he says with a shy smile.

“I love you, Pedri.”

“And I love you too. Can I get that kiss now?”

“Yes, you can” I laugh before kissing him.

[girlystories]

Two sides on the same coin

— pairings: Joseph Descamps x ex-rebellious reader

summary: you get expelled from your all girls school after an incident you get yourself into. cutting all ties with your troublesome friends, your parents send you to voltaire lycée in hopes you change your ways. an annoying prick, though, gets in the way of that, making you constantly on the verge of breaking your promise to your parents.

additional warnings: underage smoking, usage of foul language, mention of boobs ig?

authors note: very creative chapter title, ik. also really sorry for this late update, but i honestly don't haven't any excuse. it's finally here so I hope you enjoy. also i added a character from another movie cuz i can.

words: 3.9k

Chapter 1: The bastard with the dumb glasses

[Name] [Last Name] certainly wasn't expecting her first day to occur like this.

She fell down on her knees next to the wounded boy, who held on his left eye. He was whimpering in pain, making it obvious the punch he took to the face was serious.

Placing a hand on his back, she tried to receive any attention from him. She called out his name but didn't get an answer. Blood was dripping from between his fingers and his groaning increased before she was pulled away from him.

...

Lumière Lycée was nothing but a memory now, all what happened there only for the driven girl to want go remember, whenever she even wanted to. If she wanted to. She couldn't lie to herself and say it was a good time. On the contrary, it was a living hell for her. It wasn't a catholic school, but it was somehow aiming towards it.

She'd gotten in trouble one, two, three, or more times. Times she couldn't even keep track of.

Not that it even mattered now. No one would know of her past, her previous troublesome and somewhat rebellious nature in a place for her old school and only herself. It was a year ago from now, certainly she'd have changed from then. Or, in better words, she wanted to mask it deep inside. She promised it to her parents.

Moving schools meant moving overall, but she was sure she'd get used to the new environment sooner or later. Voltaire Lycée, the only academy daring to take things further and expand into a mixed school containing both boys and girls. Such a big change, things were seemingly passing so fast. It was the only thing the newspapers and radio were discussing about all day long for the past three days.

She was now brushing her hair, styling it while in her bathrobe. She added a small touch of makeup on her lashes, in a effort not to seem as tired from sleeping late the earlier day. Her anxiety forbid her from it. To bring some sort of color to her lips, she applied some chapstick. She didn't want to impress anybody, but didn't want to stand out by appearing like some sort of messy girl. That'd make a horrible impression. She opted to blend in with everybody else, which wasn't as easy since she was expected as one of the other few new girls. She'd stand out either way. How many girls would even attend that school anyway?

Either way, she hoped for a change. From having more than fifty absences, five to nine out of twelve marks, constantly snapping at her other classmates and breaking into fights, to becoming a lady with a future ahead of her.

There was a knock on her bedroom door, "[Name]," a soft voice called from behind it, "are you ready yet? Your father could give you a ride to school."

"No, it's okay," she got up from her chair, giving a last look at herself from her mirror. "I'd lather walk on my first day."

Her mother nodded and left without a word, leaving her to finish in getting ready.

[Name] opened her wardrobe, inspecting her clothes and in the end decided upon a matching set of a top and short skirt that she tried out the day before. Before leaving her room she wore her pair of Mary-Jane's.

She headed to her kitchen, where her parents were already awake, eating their breakfast before work. She took a seat and took a sip of her prepared coffe. "Good morning," she said.

Her father swallowed his own coffe before speaking, "Good morning. How do you feel about your new school?"

"Rather anxious."

"No wonder," her mother said. "A mixed school? It's a much troublesome shift from what we're used too. Wouldn't you agree, dear?"

Her dad finished his coffe, placing his mug down. "Well, we do what we can do. If only you would behave, [Name]."

"[Father name], " her mother glanced at him with knotted brows. "Don't start again."

He ignored her warnings, "Now make sure to get your shit together or else things will be really complicated. I'm saying this from the bottom of my heart."

"I know," [Name] simply said.

Her mother still kept an eye on her husband and sighed, turning her attention at her daughter. "Now you have a nice day, okay? Be home right after school or if you want stop by the bakery."

[Name] finished her butter bread, taking her bag as she got up and went to the front door.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" she got interrupted. Internally groaning, she went back and kissed her parents on the cheek.

"Alright, bye," she finally said and left.

Since it was still early, she stopped at her neighborhood supermarket to buy herself a pack of Gauloises, thanking the owner and lighting one while on her way. Just then she realized she didn't know the way.

Minutes later she regretted not accepting her parents' offer to drive her to school. Cursing under her breath at her possibility of being late on her first day, she kept her fast pase as she took a turn on the street she thought the school was located.

To her utter luck, she was right. When she noticed the front gate inspector closing the door she jogged there yelling for him stop. He rose his head towards her, earning his attention.

He threw his cigarette, chuckling softly. "Lucky for you, it's your first day, miss, otherwise I'd have left you locked outside," he said and opened the gate for her.

"Sorry, it won't happen again..." she breathed out.

"Well, they haven't made their way inside. Mr. Belanger is giving a speech."

"Thanks," she said and walked hurrily where everyone stood.

On top of the building's stairs stood the school staff, the students surprisingly listening from bellow. She shoved herself between the crowd to catch a word he was saying.

"-Gentlemen, I expect you to...to be as polite, respectful, magnanimous and dignified as I know you can...when on your best behavior."

"Who is that?" she asked herself.

"The school's Dean," she wasn't really expecting an answer, yet a guy replied from beside her.

She nodded at him, staying silent for a moment before talking again. "Damn, I don't even know in what class I am."

"Don't worry. They'll call your name anyway."

Just then, a woman walked forward, holding a sheet or paper. "I'll now be calling the first-year's, then proceed the second year's due to the addition of female students."

"Just like that," he smirked and Mr. Bluebeard began reading the paper.

[Name] breathed out a sigh of relief. "Good. Because I was afraid of almost getting detention from being late."

He let out a laugh, "On your first day? There's no way a person could achieve that record. Not even me. I can assure you I've tried. I don't think you get detention from being late."

"No," she said. "I said almost. Wait, what do you mean y-"

The call of her name interrupted her question.

"That's your name, right? Seems like you're in class 1B."

"Oh, yeah," she said looking as some other students walked up the starts when their names were called. "See you."

She took a seat behind two girls, and as she did so smiled at them when they seemed to acknowledged her. Little by little everyone gathered in class, each taking their seats.

The woman that was calling out the students from before walked in. "I am Mrs. Giraud, your homeroom teacher."

Then, a girl with blonde hair entered the class, eyeing the empty seats anxiously. She had her hair styled with a headband that matched her dress which was beautifully complimenting her figure. It was no surprise everyone was looking at her with either admiration or a tint of desire.

She took a seat at a desk in the front, and [Name] felt somehow disappointed she didn't choose to sit next to her instead.

Mrs. Giraud noticed her gesture. "What's your name miss?"

She got up from her seat, holding her hands together politely. "Annick Sabiani."

"Where do you think you are, miss Sabiani?"

She didn't get enough time to respond at her question.

"Do you think it's okay to sit next to a boy?" she asked sternly. "Get your things."

She began doing so, but Mrs. Giraud interrupted her again. "No. You," she pointed towards the boy next to her. He looked at her for a moment and she continued, "Get up. Go sit in the back."

"But I can't see from there."

"Back row, now," she then looked at [Name], realizing she failed in noticing her presence before. "And what's your name, miss?"

She got up, awkwardly looking around the class and trying to ignore the stares. "[Name] [Last name]."

"You sit in the front."

She gathered her bag and did as she was told, still feeling the stares accompanied with whistling sounds and whispers. The boy tried to do the same, but someone put his foot in the way. That made him trip and almost fall, the group of boys laughing and making pig noises. "It's not your day, piggy."

The teacher did nothing about it, only complaining about being interrupted. "Quiet! As I was saying... Mrs. Giraud, with a "D" as in "discipline.""

[Name] wasn't listening what she was saying anymore, glancing at the person who was at fault of tripping the poor guy. He was grinning at his friend beside him, finding it wholehearted hilarious, like it was comedy gold. He fixed his glasses before he pretending he was paying attention to Mrs. Giraud. Instead he wrote a note and showed it next to him, the duo starting cackling quietly.

Next period was Latin, where she was met with Mr. Douillard. She ultimately ended up not having a really good idea about him, earning already a bad impression by him ignoring the girls when they raised their hand. She grew more and more annoyed when he pretended not to noticed her and she just stopped trying. Sabiani did not back down, though. Still, Mr. Douillard picked the only guy that had raised his hand.

"I think she raised her hand," the same guy with the glasses pointed out in a snarky tone. He pressed his lips together to hold himself from laughing.

Much to the teachers dismay of having to pick a girl student, he side-eyed Sabiani. "Indeed. So?"

She pushed her chair back, fixing her dress. "The Romans welcome Horatio with joy and congratulations and escort him to his house."

"The Romans "cheer" Horatio," he corrected, obviously not wanting to lower to the level of ever praising a girl, wanting to dismiss their existence entirely. "Can you conjugate the verb "ovare"?"

As Sabiani was answering, [Name] noticed the guy from before writing something on a paper, giving it to the person next to him and whispering something. The note was passed down until the teacher noticed.

"Give me that," he ordered, interrupting Sabiani.

The poor guy sighed and stood up walking up to the teacher and handing the note. From where [Name] sat she couldn't see anything but by the expression of Mr. Douillard she could tell it wasn't good.

The unlucky person sighed and stood up walking up to the teacher and handing the note. [Name] knew of him. He was Alain Laubrac, a guy who happened to be in the same gang she used to hang out last year. She stopped hanging out with them after her expulsion, when she was grounded all summer, cutting all ties with them thankfully. She hadn't spoke to him since like the rest. From where she sat she couldn't see anything but by the expression of Mr. Douillard she could tell it wasn't good.

"Think this is funny?"

"It wasn't me."

"Who is responsible for this masterpiece?"

No answer. The guy who drew it pretended he didn't know a thing, placing his pen under his bottom lip.

"Your name?"

"It wasn't me," Alain repeated.

"'It wasn't me'," Mr. Douillard sighed, "All culprits have the same name. They must be related. Okay, Mr. 'It wasn't me'...'"

"My name is Laubrac," he corrected.

"Are you the boy from the foster care?"

The whole class chuckled at that.

"Some nobody's son's trying to graduate? How amusing. Didn't anyone teach you discipline in the care system? I won't let a bastard disrupt my class. Get out."

"But he didn't do anything!" a girl with blond pigtails protested.

"Nobody taught you to raise your hand in your girls' school, Miss Magnan? Or maybe you think you have a free pass because your uncle is the Dean," the teacher mocked, hitting the paper on his palm. "Escort your new friend to your uncle's office. He'll give you detention too."

They both left the room with their heads low, the class filled with silence.

[Name] bit the inside of her mouth, raising a hand.

"Yes, miss?" the teacher complained.

"With all due respect, sir, but you're being really unfair," she said. Mr. Douillard was taked aback and she continued before he interrupted. "It was Picasso over there who did it," she eyed the glasses-guy from the back.

The smile he wore dissappeared, now glaring at her and preparing to argue something back.

"You've got a nerve talking to me like that, miss [Last Name]," the teacher said. "Don't think I haven't been informed of your performance in your past school. I'm not afraid to get you expelled here too."

The class suddenly filled with murmurs.

"Unless you want detention as well I advice you to sit back down."

She looked down and without having anything else to say she sat on her chair. Her grip on her pen tightened when she looked back and seeing the guy still stare at her, slowly forming a winning smirk.

Bastard, she thought.

Finally lunch came, and she exhaled a sigh of relief as she stood up from her seat, an instant need to stretch her body overtaking her. She only wanted to smoke as soon as possible, the necessity of nicotine calling out to her from not being present for a while. She closed her notebook and walked out the classroom as soon as there was space for her to walk through the students.

She walked down the big row of starts, avoiding in pushing the boy in front of her, but still having trouble keeping her patience.

Just as she was about to turn a corner she felt her face being hit with a flat surface, being jolted back.

"Woah, what's the rush?" she felt an arm on her shoulder and was met with a silly smile. It was the guy from earlier in the morning.

"Sorry," she said, feeling embarrassed. She allowed herself to groan, feeling free from expressing her feelings. Even in front of this guy she just met. "I just couldn't stay in that room anymore."

"I didn't know class 1B was that far off," he joked.

"You know anyone from there?"

"Certainly. I could name quite a few if you ask me."

"Ugh, then I'm sure you know. Speaking of, in what class did you end up?"

He placed a hand in his pocket. "2B," he smiled. "If my last name was different we could've been in the same class. Maybe then the school year wouldn't be so bad."

"Yeah, talk about luck," she played along his playful attitude. She didn't know where he was getting at, but he was at least tolerable. "Oh, hey, we haven't met properly before."

"You're right," he extended his palm, smiling at her. "Mick Travis."

She replied with her name, shaking his hand. "Mick Travis? Is that French or..."

"I'm originally from Britain, but I've moved here for a while. I don't know for how long but I'll do what I can in the meantime. Second year in this school and I can't wait to get out of here."

"Did something happen last year?"

"It's a long story," he said simply, changing the subject. "So, where are you headed?"

In the end they sat at a bench, under a tree to avoid the bright sun from blinding their eyes and having to constantly squint at each other. Travis sat sideways, his one leg crossed while the other was extended freely, his head resting on his palm, the other holding his cigarette.

[Name] lazily looked up at the tree as the wind moved it's leafs, making her almost fall asleep. "Are they gotta tell us something for not going to eat?"

"Hell no, I'm sure they know how ass the food is anyway. We're just saving our lives at the moment."

She hummed, putting out her finished cigarette.

"So," he adjusted his head, in a way to look at her. "What do you think of this school?"

"I don't know. But I hope this year passes quickly. Last year was the worst year of my life."

This peacked his interest. "How so?"

"Long story," she laughed when she realized he responded the same way before. "Maybe I'll tell you if I skip a class."

"Fine."

Break ended too quickly for [Name] to enjoy and she dragged her feet to class, with Travis having to sometimes push her while she groaned in annoyance.

She walked inside, making eyecontact with Sabiani and giving her a look of "I can't stand being here already." The poor girl only giving her a sympathetic smile in response.

She was about to sleep on her desk, when a commotion made her raise her head to see what was going on. Descamps and his friends – whatever their names were, she didn't even bother to know – were making a fuss over something, and she noticed quickly a bucket filled with water behind the door. Descamps grabbed it and attempted to place it on top of the door, ordering one of his friends to keep watch from outside in the process.

The class did nothing, and so did [Name]. It took her a while to realize that a prank was happening, so whoever were to walk in would get drenched in that dirty bucket water. She rose from her seat, throwing her chair back and scaring Sabiani from beside her. She did promise not to act out, in hopes of not getting unwanted attention from the teachers, but she had enough from that Latin teacher anyway. She wouldn't let anyone stop her now.

She walked up to him, pushing him and making him almost spill the water. He narrowed his eyes at her, before he flashed her a cocky smile. "What's that? Didn't you learn your lesson from getting expelled from your last school? Are you planning on doing the same thing here?"

She clenched her jaw at the nerve he had. He didn't even know of her, yet acted better than her. "I'll get expelled for this? You're the one putting a bucket on top of the damn door."

She felt a hand grabbing her wrist and she turned around. "Don't get involved, just continue sleeping on your desk like you were before," it was one of Descamps friends.

She snatched her hand away, "Don't touch me." Turning her attention back at the vile glasses-wearing guy, she attempted to take the bucket away from him, only for him to raise it over her head, mocking her in the process. She would've been intimidated by his height, but she was already used to scarier guys from last year. Descamps laughed at her unsuccessful attempts, then motioned something to his friend. He got the memo and held back [Name] by restraining her.

"Let me down!" she yelled, but they ignored her, finally Descamps putting the damn bucket where he planned from the beginning. She looked at the rest of the class, everyone doing nothing about the whole thing and staying silent in their seats. She made eyecontact with Laubrac, her eyes seeking for his help. He only looked away, hiding his shame.

The victim of the prank was Magnan, as the water completely covered her from head to toe. Her braids were starting to fall apart from her cute style. Her frozen body left in shock as she looked around the class, everyone watching her without reaction. [Name] felt shame when she realized the water made the fabric on her chest area visible, being stuck on her skin.

Descamps and his friends were the only ones breaking the silence in the room, chuckling to themselves and breaking out laughing, [Name] being no longer being held back.

Suddenly he swallowed hard and composed himself at the sight of Mrs. Couret. He looked at her nervously and placed both his hands in his pockets.

Mrs. Couret was in shock at first, but acted quickly, taking of her jacket and putting it around Magnan. She ordered [Name] and Sabiani to look over the class, but they knew that with both of them combined they couldn't control Descamps and his dumb crew. Moments later, they exited the classroom, headed to the nurses office.

If that wasn't enough, Descamps even drew on the chalkboard, being a picture of who she assumed was Magnan, her chest area being the most prominent. [Name] was about to go off again, but Sabiani grabbed her wrist instead, shaking her head at her to tell her to stop. After a bit of contemplating she backed down. Before she could even sigh in disappointment, a senior barged inside the classroom.

He pushed a guy from his way and swing at one of the guys that indulged in the "prank". Sabiani yelled at them to stop but it escalated even worse. Descamps went to defend him, and this lead to him being hit. In the eye area. Next thing she knew, he was kneeled to the ground. Everything had happened so fast, [Name] was frozen in place.

Without thinking she fell next to him, trying to get a look at his injury. It was pretty hard to do so, as he pressed onto his left eye, his back slouching more and more as he couldn't contain his pain anymore. His groans made him so he couldn't hear the girl from beside him, but the warm touch on his shaking body comforted him even for a bit.

[Name] felt herself suddenly being pushed back, and she calmed herself when she realized it was the Dean.

"Let me see," he said, crouching to Descamps' level.

"My eye...! I can't see..."

"Don't touch it okay? Can you stand up?" when he nodded, he helped him get up. He then ordered Pichon to get the nurse, but she was already there.

"He's got some glass in his eye," Mr. Belanger said softly at his wife, as she placed a hand on his back and led him outside, mentioning something about taking him to the hospital.

"Get back to your class!" he yelled at the students that were watching from outside the door. "Dupin, take your seat. Jean-Pierre, my office. You two, put the chairs back. You wipe that off. And you, clean that now!" he looked at the rest of the class, his piercing look sending shivers down [Name]'s spine. "Everyone else, take your seats!" he ordered and the tone of his voice made everyone do so without question. "Quietly!"

He sighed, "I'll leave you to it, Miss Couret," he said, giving a last look to the teacher that had just arrived before storming off.

The rest of the day seemed to pass way slower that before.

tagging: @kpoploverxx-12 @puchosdementa @tropicalheart13 @luvmacyyyy @aiuragf @idontlikemonday @helchronicles @bubblegum-bitchhhhhhhhh @visndcaitswhore @blueberryblood11 @remusmuse @pookayyyyy @blvckdress @lirominissss @issoais-blog @murxhavia @b3l1z8 @nikkoiiii @beau-min

©ssnowville ©snowville

[1d1195]

Ding - Round 7

Read Ding here | ~4.6k words

Warnings: punching, fighting, fixing my cliff hanger from the previous part.

From me: This is the last part, but I tried to keep the ending open a bit so I could come back if you want 💕 thanks for reading this one. Hope you liked it!

Summary: Harry isn't the only one fighting the night of the biggest match of his career.

Three minutes.

Each round was three minutes.

She thought over the last few months of watching Harry train had engraved a three-minute timer into her internal clock. Like her mind was able to simultaneously count out 180 seconds and continue working on whatever project she was tasked with at the time.

The crowd was so loud—just several feet behind a door. She thought about her phone. The one she left with Niall so it wouldn’t get lost while she tried to get towels, food, and use the restroom. Alongside Harry’s phone. Part of her believed even if she could have used it, Niall wouldn’t have heard it anyway. She straightened her back, standing taller and preparing herself. She pulled against his grip on her arm. Her heart was pounding but she felt it in her bones.

She could do this. She had to do this.

She heard Harry’s voice teaching her all the self-defense moves she had practiced for months in the back of her head. She thought about the classes, the training in her living room.

The goal isn’t to win. S’not a boxing match. Want t’minimize you getting hurt. Your only goal is t’get away safely. If y’get away, you’re gonna come find me, Cupcake. M’not gonna let anything happen t’you.

“What’s your problem?” She snapped.

“You told other girls about me?”

“No, I warned them.” He narrowed his eyes as he stared at her.

“You’re a bitch.” She tried to keep the nerves from getting to her.

She could run out the back door and try her best to get to the front again. Harry would understand. It would be better than being the sitting duck she was now. There was the whole no phone thing but at least the security guard would recognize her. He would keep an eye on her. No way he’d be willing to face the wrath of Harry for not doing so.

She pulled on her arm again trying to loosen his grip. She thought about the shower she took after their date. If it could really be called a date. Despite everything happening in the moment she had the intense desire to look up the definition of date because that could nothave been a date. A date had to have some sort of mutual feeling of companionship or amicable emotion. The way his body felt on hers made her skin crawl.

She didn’t want it then and she didn’t want it now.

“Let go,” she ordered.

“You’re—”

“I said let go,” she pulled hard, dragging both of them further back into the room but closer to the backdoor.

“Stop—”

“Let go, or you’ll regret it.”

He chuckled; it sounded sarcastic. Disbelief evident in his tone—even his short laughter. “What are you going to do?” He taunted. Honestly, part of her wanted to know the same thing. What was his plan? Attack her alone in the back of this place? It was obvious. Niall would come looking for her sooner or later. Someone would come back here because they needed towels. It was a matter of when not if. All she needed to do was hold him off.

Fortunately, she had been given all the lessons on how to do just that.

“Let go,” she repeated, feeling stronger than that awful night and more so than she had in the months since. “Harry—”

“Your boyfriend is busy.”

With a deep breath, she realized she had lost count of the seconds. Was the round over? She didn’t know. But she knew Harry was safe. Harry would never fuck around with consent. He said so himself. Harry was going to rip Jack’s arm off. Hell, Harry would rip his own arm off if she asked him to.

She narrowed her eyes at him. Clenched her jaw and yanked on her wrist in his hand again. “If you don’t let go, he’s going to see. Then you’ll wish you never touched me,” she vowed.

He smiled darkly. “He’s not going to see,” he promised.

Despite how much stronger she felt than the day she met him, she was still scared. Her stomach twisted; nausea ensued. There was a genuine fear growing inside her that felt very similar to how it felt right before she thought was going to throw up. The feeling rose to her throat, and it took all her control to swallow it back down. She inhaled deeply through her nose and brought all the steps and moves Harry had taught her in the self-defense classes to the forefront of her mind.

Jack was bigger, stronger, and way more terrifying than she was.

But she was determinedto get away.

“Let. Go.” She ground her teeth together tugging on her arm that she knew was going to bruise.

“Just—”

“I’m going to scream,” she could see the irritation on his face as she continued to interrupt him.

“Don’t you dare you stupid, little—”

She was glad her dominant hand was free and used it smashed her palm into his nose so hard she felt a crunch and was immediately met with a stream of blood. It poured immediately on her hand, and she should have been more grossed out but before she could think about it for long, she bolted back for the main room.

He groaned loudly but chased after her. He reached her at the door, grabbed her arm, and flung her back to the ground. She yelped as her body landed with a thud. Her head hit the ground making her wince involuntarily. She could hear people cheering. No one would hear her if she screamed. He knew that.

Harry wouldn’t get to her.

The mere thought terrified her.

She kicked. Making minimal contact with some part of him but did leave him incapacitated for just a moment—a moment she needed. He cursed lowly under his breath. Her mind was working at the same slow pace she crawled and clawed at the ground, blood dripping on her shirt from his nose as he stood over her clutching his groin. Harry told her the most vulnerable position she could be was defending herself on her back. She was mortified. Her adrenaline screamed through her veins.

The announcer was calling something about Harry and the match. There’s a ding, ding, ding signaling the end of the round or the beginning of the next. She didn’t know anymore. All she knew was she wanted to be in there. She wanted Harry to see her. She was certain he would stop in the middle of a round for her.

“You broke my nose,” He snarled.

It took every ounce of her self-restraint to keep her mouth from saying good with a smug smile. Her heart was in her throat. Clawing uselessly at the floor knowing she wasn’t going to get anywhere at that rate. She kicked again, trying to remember the training and the moves Harry made her practice in her apartment. Her instinct was taking over and arguably making it worse for her just as Harry had warned.

The air suddenly felt so thin. It was difficult for her to keep breathing steady—scared and anxious out of her mind. She could see little black dots in her vision with anxiety taking over. The roar of the crowd made everything she needed to do impossible to focus on.

But the little voice in her head had a nearly melodic British accent now. Slow, steady. Encouraging.

It screamed at her to get up and keep going.

She slammed her foot into his leg, just at his knee, knocking him off balance. He landed just as hard as she did. She knew he was going to get up quick, so she needed to be quicker. She leapt from the floor and burst through the double doors. She sprinted toward the ring. He was hot on her heels she could feel it, but she didn’t stop—couldn’t stop. Not when security shouted at her and not when the attention of people watching finally got them yelling for her.

She told Harry earlier that day she wasn’t lucky. But at that moment she was. Perhaps the luckiest person ever. She felt it in her bones, and she planned to thank every divine spirit in the universe when she reflected on it later. There was the briefest moment in every round right after the bell rang where there was the slightest down pitch in volume as the cheering stopped and people waited to see who would make the first move in the ring.

That moment happened the second she was close enough for her voice to carry the final distance to Harry. “Harry!” Her voice was cracked and broken but she knewhe heard it just because of the volume of her shriek. She believed everyone in the arena heard it.

She wasn’t quiet about it; just like Harry (and Louis) taught her. Her voice was so loud even the referee looked over and watched as the man chasing her grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her back to the floor. Her head hit hard against the hardwood. Stars reappeared in her vision, and she wondered if this was what a concussion felt like. For a moment she was stunned. Forgot that she was supposed to be fighting for her safety. Defending herself. The seconds ticked by so slowly, she wondered if she was going to pass out. There was a deafening quiet, muffled shouting; like a scene in a movie where the hero is aware of her surroundings but can’t quite get a grasp on it.

It was weird it was happening to her in real time, and she blinked rapidly trying to get her vision to focus and her hearing to return. But she was able to register in her confused mind that she was in the main arena. Because even if Harry didn’t hear her, she knew that everyone saw him take her down to the floor.

That was the goal. To get away and find a crowd.

She did it.

“You stupid, fucking bit—” the sound came roaring back so loudly it felt like he was shouting right in her ear. But he was standing above her again still dripping blood on her clothing. His face was in her vision for half a second. But that was all he got. Half a second. It wasn’t an exaggeration. Her heart was flying so fast, so she knewhis smug expression was hardly in her scattered vision for a mere fraction of a second. Not even one whole beat thudded against her ribcage and then he was gone.

Once more someone was standing over her, but unlike moments before, she felt so utterly safe.

Harry was there. Like some Greek god scorned. She almost felt bad for Jack. Because the thought of being on the receiving end of the look she could only imagine Harry was giving made her shiver. Half-naked, his black shorts, his black gloves hung at his hips, and she could tell his hands were balled into tight fists inside his gloves. She could see the rise and fall of his shoulders even at her angle. The heaving breaths he was taking.

Briefly, he turned his neck, to look at her over his shoulder. His eyes were furious and wild. There was a cut on his eyebrow again—probably the same one that kept reopening without the proper time to heal. She could see the redness on his ribcage starting where she knew he’d be bruised like a peach in the morning. His jaw was sharp, teeth gnashed together, lip curled in a terrifying snarl.

He turned back to him, on the ground, holding his face with blood still pouring from his nose. “You goddamn piece of fucking shit,” he growled.

The adrenaline in her veins stopped working overtime. With Harry standing over her, his feet shoulder width apart straddled on either side of her legs she felt herself relax. He was ready to fight—of course he was. He was in the ring only moments ago. His stance was itching to punch someone. He had that look in his eye that he had in the first round. But now it could have been the fifth or six round that she had interrupted. She didn’t know because she wasn’t there to see and lost track of counting the seconds. “What did you do to her?” He snarled.

Reason began to return to her mind. Harry was going to kill him—which would really put a damper on their night if he went to jail or something. “Harry,” her voice broke hoping that maybe he’d just let it go. She was safe now.

But she also knew it was well past the point of return for her boyfriend. Someone hurt her. He saw it.

Harry wouldn’t take it lightly. Couldn’t. He promised her dad. He promised her.

“Harry,” Louis hissed sensing the same thing that she did.

“Oh shit,” Niall hurried to her. “Are you alright, Cupcake?” he cooed gently and tugged her from beneath the arms and out from under Harry’s threatening stance. Niall held her the way she wanted Harry to hold her. His hands were on her cheeks, assessing her quickly, searching for a signal that she was okay. “Is this you?” He asked, looking at the blood all over her shirt as he searched for the injury that caused it.

Harry was still heaving, waiting for his opportunity. Her voice was dead in her throat trying to answer Niall but the only word that would leave her mouth was Harry’s name. It made him even angrier; terrified and hurt that she was possibly hurt. So hurt she couldn’t respond to Niall’s question—a question that Harry wanted her to answer just as badly.

“She broke my fucking nose,” he growled, eyes intent on her even though he nearly had to peer around Harry to look at her.

The whole arena froze.

She couldn’t see Harry’s face any longer, but she could sense a pleased smile was on his lips. Niall glanced away from checking her over as the smile passed over his lips as well. Hiding how happy he was that the blood was not hers. Louis, despite how pissed he was at Harry, couldn’t help the little smile that graced his face, either; proud that she used his lessons to help herself.

She swore everyone in that arena was smiling.

Harry turned back to her in Niall’s arms and winked at her. “That’s my girl,” he said proudly.

In spite of how scared she was, how sad she was, how much her head hurt… nothing but pride filled her body in that moment.

Then Harry lunged for him.

*

It took Niall, Louis, and Harry’s opponent from the ring to pull him away from pummeling him beyond recognition. Niall had nearly dropped her after he lunged. Grabbing his arms before he could do more damage than two punches. Louis suffered at least one punch to the face himself which she was sure was going to be returned in kind during Harry’s next training session. It would probably do Louis wonders to just punch Harry once and for all.

But naturally, it was her that stopped him. Her head ached and she wanted to lie down but she stood anyway. As Harry fought tooth and nail to be released from the hold of his friends and opponent, she stepped in front of him catching his murderous gaze. “Harry please,” she pleaded her eyes watery with all kinds of emotions coursing through her. She was wobbly on her feet, and she felt a little nauseous fearing her head injury was worse than she thought without all the adrenaline flowing through her. She put a hand on her head and winced in pain while trying to keep herself from swaying in front of him.

There were police and security guards and all kinds of shouting. But Harry finally saw her, his breath was shallow, his opponent from the ring was standing in front of him as well; a gloved hand pressed to his chest while Niall and Louis held each arm forcing him back. But it was her voice, her tear-filled eyes, that made him stop. His breathing started to slow. He swallowed hard, glaring at the opponent he wanted more than the one that was in the ring only a few moments earlier.

He gave Louis and Niall a shove. “M’alright,” he snapped and pushed his opponent out of the way. Within two seconds she was in his arms. Feet floating off the ground and he swore he never heard the crowd cheer for him the way they did then.

Harry didn’t even revel in it. He loved boxing. It was cathartic for him. Competitively, he was good at it. But he wanted nothing more than to not be in that arena and never come back. Her body was warm against his skin. He was cool with sweat. “Let’s go, Cupcake,” he murmured in her ear and started back for the locker room.

*

Harry was disqualified from his match. A single “1” in his loss column that upset her more than it did him. He was icing her hand and arm where his fingerprints left bruises. He kept rubbing her shoulders, her temples, and any of her muscles that ached in her back without the hormones that dulled her senses during her own fight. The intensity of it all, all that adrenaline subsided and made her body crash. All her muscles ached with the notion something happened.

And she stopped it.

Harry, despite everything, could not stop smiling as if she had boxed her own match and won. “I’m so proud of you, Cupcake,” he murmured and kissed the back of her achy head. It was sore from where it hit the floor (twice—once harder than the other). Louis deduced she did have a concussion; so, Harry was doting on her as if his life depended on it. Now that they were home in his apartment, he was much calmer—surprisingly. Granted, inside his home was safe. She imagined anywhere in public he was going to turn into a bit of a crazy person when it came to her safety. Honestly, she couldn’t wait to see him in action. She didn’t want him to act insane, but the worry was nice in his own way. (Plus, she was pretty certain she could get him to relax with the promise of kisses.) “When you’re able to, I want to know everything.”

“I don’t like punching,” she told him wrinkling her nose even though he couldn’t see her. He chuckled.

“I know, kitten.” He shifted her in his lap so she was propped against the armrest of his sofa, her legs strewn across his thighs. Now he could see her face. His smile was lazy, adorable, boyish once more. Hard to believe someone so cute could be terrifying when needed.

“I broke his nose,” she reminded him quietly.

“I know, Cupcake,” he answered tiredly. His own body was sore, his mind exhausted. She could see him practically snoring while talking his eyes turning to slits as he tilled his head against the back of the couch. One arm draped over the front of her body protectively. His other hand pulled at her hair gently as possible, massaging her scalp where he knew that horrible, moronic man yanked it hardest when she was running from him. “M’so proud of you,” he murmured.

Her cheeks turned pink under his praise, but she remained silent for a moment. “I’m sorry you were disqualified,” her frown was deep.

“Kitten,” he tutted opening his eyes at the same time, a renewed sense of energy had him looking at her with such disapproval. He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the cheek. “Nothing’s important as you,” he promised, a frown touching his lips.

“But you were undefeated, it bothers me.”

“I know,” he closed his eyes again—maybe the smallest part of him feeling bad for himself. “But it doesn’t bother me, Cupcake. I’d rather lose m’undefeated record for this than ever let something happen t’you. Rather have a losing record. Far as m’concerned, m’still undefeated. Honestly, y’should see the other guy,” he smirked ruefully. She watched his gentle breathing, felt the soft pull of her hair on the back of her head, and she bit the inside of her cheek.

“I wish I could’ve—”

“Uh-uh, Cupcake,” he interrupted, his voice quietly on the edge of sleep. His mind reeled with the thoughts from the locker room.

Harry paced, still angry beyond belief. He settled her on the bench that he usually sat on after a fight. His doctor and Louis looked her over. “She hit her head hard on the ground,” Louis murmured looming over the doctor’s shoulder as he examined her eyes. Harry punched the locker nearby creating a dent the size of his glove. She flinched at the sound as he paced. The doctor didn’t move.

“Twice,” she offered weakly.

Twice? He growled low in his throat. Niall was right beside him in case he tried to make a break for it and find him again. Niall planned on tripping Harry worst case scenario to keep him from leaving.

“Twice?” Louis repeated curiously. “Shit, babe,” he frowned. Harry punched the locker two more times, making her flinch again. “Harry, she’s already scared out of her mind,” he snapped angrily. Harry was still pacing. Niall paced alongside him, trying to keep him calm. Her eyes locked on Harry as he paced, and the doctor looked her over. She felt like she was blinking a thousand times per second. But she couldn’t tear her gaze away from Harry.

“Do you have any other injuries?” The doctor asked. She shook her head.

“Just my head.”

“You’re sure? This is a lot of blood.”

Harry growled again. She glanced at him nervously again. “S’not mine,” she whispered reassuringly.

The doctor smirked, patted her knee as he nodded. “Good girl. Harry, you taught her well,” he assured. “Ice. Harry, I am to presume you’ll be her bedside nurse? Concussion protocol, wake her tonight, every couple hours, and pain meds. Call me if there’s an issue.”

Harry was still fuming. “Can y’drive her car t’my place?” He asked Niall. He nodded solemnly, afraid of angering him further. “Get these off me,” he held out his hands feeling frustrated that Niall didn’t move faster to get them off. He wanted to cradle her face and massage her achy muscles. He wanted to kiss her pain away and hold her until he felt she was better. She was only vaguely aware of his frustration. Louis was tending to her while Niall cut the tape off his wrists, nipping his skin with the scissors because Harry refused to sit still.

“Here you are, love,” Louis was gentle, cupped the side of her head as he sat in front of her and placed an ice pack on the back of her achy skull. She blinked unsurely, eyeing Louis suspiciously.

“Do you hate me?” She asked, tears filled her vision without her realization, and she heard Harry snort.

“Jesus Christ, Cupcake,” she could hear the way his eyes rolled. Niall snorted.

Louis chuckled, shook his head. “Not at all, babe, why?”

“He lost because of me.”

“He could lose a thousand times because of you,” he assured her. “Your safety is most important.”

She took a deep breath and sighed. “He’s late because of me too.”

“He was late before you came along,” he promised. “Also, I like those Oreo brownies you make more than him,” he winked.

Harry smiled as she did. He could see her adding it to her mental list of goodies she would need to make.

“Harry, baby?” She whispered. Pulled him from his thoughts—fortunately so. He didn’t want to think about how much her head hurt.

“What, Cupcake?”

“I love you.” He smiled up at the ceiling, eyes still closed. Like it was new to him to hear her say it and it was just his dream telling him she loved him.

Right as he inhaled to say it back, his phone rang beside him. One eye peeled open and then the other as he looked at the number. “’Lo?” He asked, pressing the speaker button.

“Hey, Harry?” The voice at the other end asked. She didn’t recognize it.

“Speaking...”

“Is your girl okay?” He asked.

Harry looked at the phone curiously, he glanced at her and then back at the phone. “Yeah. She’s fine. Broke his nose.”

“Good girl,” his voice was quiet, but there was an air of pride in it as well. She blushed at the compliment, remaining silent while she listened in.

“Yeah... Listen... s’been a long night. Can y’tell me what y’want? Was it t’gloat?”

Her lips parted, realizing the man at the other end that earned the coveted one in Harry Styles’ loss column. Because of her. (Although she knew Harry would tell her it wasn’t her fault if she said that out loud.) “Right, sure. Sorry. Listen... M’glad she’s alright. Sorry it happened. But... anyone with a brain and two eyeballs knew that wasn’t a fair loss. Anyone would have stopped in the middle of our match. Hell, I almost stopped for her,” Harry waited for the point of saying all this. He squeezed her shoulder and brushed his lips across her cheek. “So... I want a rematch.”

Harry straightened, his hand falling limp behind her back. “A rematch?”

It was quiet. “I want to win the right way.”

Harry smiled; excitement danced in his eyes. Gently, he squeezed her knee. “Y’mean lose the right way,” he taunted.

He chuckled on the other end of the line. “We’ll see, I guess. Yeah?”

Harry hung up. He turned to her, kissed her on the forehead, and smiled. “What do y’say? Y’still want t’be m’good luck charm, Cupcake?” He pulled her into his lap and buried his face into her neck. Like he belonged there.

“You still think I’m a good luck charm? After today? Hell, since the day I met you? I’ve been nothing but a headache. Clay is dented because of me. You had to teach me how to defend myself. I’m whiny and injured and—”

Harry didn’t seem to register anything she said at all. “M’the luckiest man alive t’have you, Cupcake. Will y’be m’good luck charm, still?”

She stopped listing her faults. It didn’t seem worth her time. “Of course, Harry,” she smiled.

“Y’think I can go the distance?” He asked.

Honestly, the thought of Harry getting punched for twelve full rounds still scared her. It was a lot for her to watch him do five or even three. “Maybe not all twelve,” she hedged with a giggle. “Want you in one piece at the end, baby,” she reminded him.

“Ye of little faith,” he frowned, grumbling. She giggled and Harry couldn’t help but smile at her. His lips quirked into a shy grin, and he pressed his face back into the crook of her neck. “Well, one round?” He asked. She swore she heard the bell in his voice as he asked. The start of a new fight, a new set.

“No,” she shook her head, pressed her lips to his hair just next to his ear. The only space she could reach while he was tucked in her neck. “I’ll go the distance with you,” she assured him.

Maybe the concussion was playing tricks on her. But she swore she heard a bell as he smiled against her skin.

Ding.

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[youaintnothinbuta]

“Hey now, don’t you start questioning me too.” — Elvis Presley x reader

Summary: your mama is pretty insistent (in a loving, supportive way) on you and Elvis making it serious and going steady with him, but you’re not at that point yet. His is too, and you talk about it on the phone after you hang out. Part 2 here

Pairing: Elvis or Austin!elvis x reader

Word count: 600

Warnings: fluff!! Probably typos though SORRY

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You had just gotten home from your evening with Elvis, the warmth of your home chasing away the chill of the cold evening. With a contented sigh, you shrug off your coat and hang it neatly on the rack.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Your dad called to you from the living room, hearing you come in. Both of your parents were sitting on the couch watching tv.

“Hi mama, hi daddy.” You replied cheerfully, kicking your shoes off by the door before going to the living room to join them.

“I put your clean washing on your bed, darling, it just needs to be put away.” Your mom informed you with a warm smile.

“Oh, thank you,” you replied gratefully.

“Not a problem. Are those flowers by your bed from Elvis?” she inquired with a knowing smile.

“Yeah, they are,” you smiled, feeling a blush creep up on your cheeks.

“What’s the occasion? Did we forget your birthday?” Your dad teased, playfully.

You laughed, “no occasion. Just because, I guess.”

“Mmm,” your mother hummed, “are you two going steady then?” She prodded further.

“Mom! No.” You rolled your eyes blithely.

“Oh, well, I’m sure he’ll ask you soon. How was your date, anyway?” Your mom teased you some more, as you sunk down on the couch beside her.

“It wasn’t really a date, we were just hanging out.”

“Did he kiss ya? That’s a date if he did.”

“Mama stop!” Your cheeks burnt bright red, “enough with the questions,” you say, trying to deflect her curiosity. “I promise, if anything changes between me and Elvis, you’ll be the first to know.”

Your mom laughs, a knowing glint in her eye. “Oh, I’m sure I’d find out sooner or later,” she says with a nudge. “His mama and I have a way of keeping each other informed.”

You shake your head, unable to suppress a smile at the thought of the close bond between your two families. Despite the teasing and the questions, you know that your parents only want the best for you, and their support means the world to you.

Later that night you sat in bed, on the phone to Elvis.

You leaned back against your pillow, “Oh, she’s relentless! Next she’ll wanna know what color panties I wear, and how many minutes we spend making eye contact,” you joked, recounting the evening’s playful interrogation to Elvis.

He chuckled softly on the other end of the line, “mine wan’t much better. Mama keeps hollering and nagging at me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the image. “Well, what did you tell her?” you pressed, unable to resist the temptation to know.

“Hey now, don’t you start questioning me too,” Elvis teased, his voice filled with mock indignation, “I just told her ‘When the time’s right, whatever happens will happen.’”

Your heart twisted a little at his vague response, but you chose to ignore it. The two of you chatted for a while longer, exchanging stories and sharing laughter over inside jokes. Eventually, though, it was time to say your goodnights.

“I wish I could be there with you right now,” Elvis murmured softly, his voice filled with sincerity.

“I know, Elvis. I wish you were here too,” you replied, feeling a pang of sadness.

It was hard to get to sleep that night. You couldn’t stop thinking about that vague, non-answer he gave. You really were hoping he’d give you a hint that he did want something serious with you. Eventually though, you managed to drift off, your overthinking tiring you out.

Little did you know, he was very purposeful in leading you astray, not wanting you to have the slightest idea he was planning on making it official very soon.

Anyone up for a part 2 where he asks you to go steady finally??

[amyispxnk]

My Kind of Woman

Chapter 6: Don’t Leave Me in the Dark

Series Masterlist || Previous Chapter

Series summary - Your song captivates Joel the second he hears you that night in Jackson, but he struggles to work up the courage to confess his feelings. With some (very heavy) encouragement from Ellie and Tommy, you two get closer and closer until he finally thinks he’s ready.

Chapter summary - An overnight patrol leads to the resurfacing of some old wounds.

A/N: why did i almost cry writing this wow i don’t think i’ve ever written something quite so angsty ever. And i don’t even think it’s that angsty. whoops

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: fluff, pet names, angst, violence, death, mention of suicide attempt

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

“Alright guys! Good work today, I’ll see you next week.” You grin, waving your students goodbye as the bell rings, signalling the end of the day.

It’s finally Thursday, which means that you and Joel will be going to the guitar store on your patrol, where you hope to find some stuff for Ellie’s birthday.

As you walk to the stables, you mull over the thoughts of some other gifts for the teenager, in case you don’t find anything there, before Joel greets you.

“Hey, sweetheart, you ready to go?” He smiles softly, biting back an even larger grin at the way your cheeks flush from his words. He’s found himself acting more confidently with you, even being able to tease you with this pet name nowadays since he discovered how flustered it could make you.

“Yeah-” your voice comes out slightly shaky, and you clear your throat. “Yeah. Let me just go get May ready.”

You feed your mare an apple before checking your bag and equipment, mounting your saddle and riding out of the gates with Joel.

The trail is much nicer at this time of year as spring slowly fades into summertime. The sun shines down on the pair of you and birds sing around you. It’s picturesque, and almost makes you forget about how the world is today, taking you back to a simpler time where you could walk outside your door without fear of being shot or torn to shreds by the end of the day.

“So anyway, we’re gonna head down here for a bit and then take a left. The store is in this little town we found a few months back.” Joel comments, breaking you from your thoughts.

“Alright.” You hum, and the two of you continue making your way there.

At around 7, you reach the little town, tying your horses up near the outskirts and grabbing your guns before heading deeper. Joel tells you that they weren’t even sure if the place was clear when they first came here, so it probably won’t be now. You should be ready for anything.

Hopefully it’s not as bad as that Route D patrol, you think to yourself as you crawl through rubble and make your way into the building.

That all-too-familiar feeling of unease settles into your bones as the darkness envelops you, dust floating in the air around you, made visible by your flashlights.

It’s pathetic, but you really don’t like the darkness. It’s scary enough when you can see what’s coming for you, but when you don’t know? When the unknown is all that surrounds you wherever you look?

You think that it’s worse.

Your eyes settle on Joel beside you. Even though his gas mask is on, you see that he’s looking at you, checking that you’re okay. His presence always makes you feel better, you’ve come to notice.

“Let’s do this.” You say, determination coursing through your veins, and he nods, leading the way.

As you walk down corridors, scanning rooms and closets, you find that the most remarkable thing in the building so far has been a decaying old body which has been swallowed by a cluster of cordyceps. Certainly not a promising sight, since it means that you’re bound to encounter some infected sooner or later, but you hope that the numbers aren’t strong.

Just over an hour later, you’re thankful to be right, having only encountered half a dozen runners, which you and Joel took down fairly easy.

“Hell yeah! Look, there’s some guitar stuff-” You start, forgetting yourself slightly in your excitement, causing a clicker from a stray closet to come barrelling through, charging straight for you. It jumps on top of you, causing you to scream, starting to fight back when Joel pulls his revolver out and shoots it thrice in the head. He tugs you out from beneath its now limp body.

He pants heavily, eyes wide as he looks at you.

“Are you bit?”

“No.”

He gives you a once-over before shaking his head, letting go of your wrist.

“You could’ve died. Fuck. Y’need to be more careful, can’t go around yellin’ like that.” He mutters, scoffing before walking off.

What the fuck? Why did he seem pissed off at you now?

“Jeez, sorry for almost fucking dying, Joel. I’ll be sure to not do it again.” You huff, going to the other side of the room to start searching for some stuff for Ellie’s guitar. You find a packet of strings and a pickboard with an intricate floral design on it that you think she’ll love. You’re pretty satisfied with the turnout, and pocket these items before heading back to Joel.

You’ve cooled off from the previous encounter, still a little annoyed from how he spoke to you, but not having the energy to fight over it. You’ve noticed the sun slowly starting to set, your detour to the store adding an extra few hours to your patrol and meaning you’ll likely have to spend the night here. You really don’t want to be arguing throughout it.

“Find anything?” You ask quietly, coming to his side. He hums in response, handing you a pick he found.

“Could probably carve somethin’ into that. Make it a little more unique for her, ‘f you want...” He says, trailing off again at the end.

“Oh, that’s a great idea! Could you?” You smile, excited to make the gift even better for Ellie. She’s special to you - why would you have gone to all of this trouble for her present, after all?

“Sure.” He nods, appearing uninterested in arguing and moving on from it by now as well.

He’s about to turn to leave when you speak up again.

“We’re probably gonna have to spend the night, Joel. Look outside.” You tell him, and sure enough, the sky has gone from a pale blue to a deep orange. You won’t make it back to Jackson in time, and you’d rather not be riding in the darkness.

“Yeah, reckon you’re right. Y’got your sleeping bag?” He nods, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Yes I’ve got my sleeping bag.” You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully. “I’m always very prepared, Joel. You know this.” You tease, kneeling down to untie your sleeping bag.

“Sure, darlin’. Then you’d know we should secure the room before setting up the camp. Since you’re always so prepared.” He smirks, and pink tints your cheeks once more.

“Yeah, I was just- you just said to get the bag out so I just.. Whatever. I’ll secure the room.” You mutter bashfully, making him laugh. That laugh was worth the embarrassment, you decide as you stand up to help barricade the doors and windows.

You finally sit down around a little cooker just after the sky goes black, an owl hooting in the distance, wind rustling the leaves outside. It’s oddly calming.

“Thanks for earlier, by the way. I’m sorry for shouting. Was stupid.” You offer quietly, unable to meet his eyes over the stove, instead zeroing in on a piece of ravioli in some 20-year old Chef Boyardee.

“No, I-” he sighs, “Shouldn’t’ve gotten all annoyed at you, either. I’m sorry. Y’were jus’ excited, sweetheart. Nothin’ wrong with that.”

“Yeah, I guess. Thank you, anyway. You totally saved my ass. And you brought me here, too. I haven’t even thanked you for that. If I didn’t have you, I think my gift for Ellie would’ve been so shit.” You chuckle softly, and his lips curl into a smirk.

“I know, I know, you’d be completely lost without me.” He teases, and you laugh a little harder, giggling and hiding your face from him.

Moments like these are why you love being with Joel so much. Laughing so hard that your entire body floods with warmth and your stomach hurts by the end of it. It’s a welcome feeling in these times.

Wait. You love being around Joel? Your brows furrow as you have a conversation with yourself in your mind. You 100% just used ‘love’ and ‘Joel’ in the same sentence. That’s a scary, dangerous path to be going down right now. Just keep it chill.

Joel doesn’t seem to realise your internal struggle, getting up and wiping his hands on his jeans before taking your can and putting them to the side.

“Alright, I think y’should get some shuteye now. I’ll keep first watch. Night, sweetheart.” He says softly, feeling an unfamiliar but comforting feeling blooming inside of him at the thought of spending a night with you. Even if it’s just for patrol, it has him thinking about the potential future of your relationship. Maybe it could become more.

“Goodnight, Joel.” You say quietly, getting in your sleeping bag and facing away from him. You go tense when he turns the stove off, the room plunging into darkness. He doesn’t know of your fears, you realise. In fact, you don’t know much of anything personal about eachother at all.

A few uncomfortable and anxiety-inducing minutes later, you finally relent, sighing and rolling over to face him.

“Joel?” You say quietly into the night, eyes searching for him as you adjust to the darkness.

“Yeah?”

“Can you- can you put the light on? I know it’s a waste of power but.. I just can’t really sleep in total darkness.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you want to shrivel up and die. He probably thinks it’s a stupid, irrational fear. Being afraid of the dark in a world like this is pathetic, you think.

“Yeah, course. I didn’t know, sorry sweetheart. Y’gon be okay?” He soothes your mind, his low voice putting you at ease.

“Yeah.” You mumble, and he turns the light on before it goes quiet again.

You keep tossing and turning for a good five minutes. Then ten. Then fifteen. Fuck. Why are you so restless tonight? You guess that it’s because you haven’t slept on a patrol in a while, especially not in someone’s presence.. especially not in Joel’s presence.

You sigh frustratedly. Maybe you should just take watch instead.

“I can’t sleep. Let me take first watch instead. You rest.” You grunt, moving to get out of your sleeping bag.

“No, darlin’, you should sleep. Is somethin’ botherin’ you? Anythin’ I can do t’ help?” He offers, eyes soft and large as he gazes up at you from his seat on the floor. It makes your heart swell even more at his caring nature.

“It’s okay, Joel. Just sleep.” You say quietly, clearly not prepared to back down now. He sighs deeply.

“We can take watch together, yeah? I don’t… I just prefer bein’ awake out here.” He murmurs, and it’s only half of the truth. He actually just wants to make sure you’re safe. That, if you accidentally fall asleep or something, he’ll still be awake to protect you.

“Okay. If you’re sure.” You say, yawning softly as you take a seat on his right side. He turns back to face the window, and your eyes fall on that scar again, the one which lies at his temple.

“Hey, Joel?” You whisper. He doesn’t even blink. Did he not hear you?

“Joel? Joel.” You say, a little louder now. He finally turns.

“Are you deaf or something?” You tease, but he doesn’t smile back.

“‘M sorry. I- yeah, kinda.” He responds, a little gruff.

“Oh shit. Sorry.” You say. He was kinda old, you realised. Not that much older than you, but still.

“‘S okay. I uh.. It happened near the start of the outbreak. In a fight.” He mutters, unsure of why he even told you that.

Well, he does know.

It’s because he wanted to tell you the true reason, but that’d probably scare you off, or weird you out. He can’t get that personal with you after only a few months of talking. For some reason, your presence just comforts him like no other, and he feels like he’s known you for years, like he can tell you everything, but you also know everything already, anyway.

“Damn. How’d you make it through the outbreak half deaf?” You murmur, genuinely curious now. That must’ve been why he always takes the left side in almost everything you do on patrols. Clearing a house? He’ll start on the left. Riding along a trail? He’ll listen out for anything along the left side of the path. You had your own suspicions, but this proves it.

“Dunno.” He shakes his head, gaze growing cold as his mind goes elsewhere, eyes getting wet as he recalls all he felt after losing Sarah.

You notice this, and start to panic a little. Shit. You’d asked for too much. You’ve brought up something sensitive unknowingly, and he’ll resent you for it.

You can’t just sit here and let him cry though.

“Hey, it’s okay, Joel. You- you can talk to me. Y’know I’m always here for you.” You say softly, turning to face him a little better. He turns his head and meets your eyes. For some reason, seeing him upset makes you want to cry too, resulting in your own eyes getting a little misty.

He clears his throat before he speaks.

“Had a daughter.” He chokes out, surprised at how hoarse his voice sounds.

Your heart almost stops. Had. Ellie wasn’t his kid, but he used to have one.

You try and think of what to say. I’m so sorry, Joel. That’s terrible, Joel. It’s a basic response, and you feel like it wouldn’t help. For once, you find yourself unable to navigate the situation.

“Scar ain’t from a fight. ‘S from me. Few days after Outbreak Day, when she-” he cuts himself off as his voice breaks, eyes squeezing tightly together.

You don’t know what compels you to do it, but you wrap your arms around him. He doesn’t reciprocate for a moment and you panic again, wondering if that was a bit bold, especially in his emotional state. But then his arms come around you, and he lets you in. He bites back the ugly sob that wants to escape his chest, instead only allowing a few silent tears to fall. You sniffle as you feel them on your skin.

“It’s okay. I’m here.” You whisper, heart breaking as he cries quietly.

“Sorry. That.. was a bit much.” He mumbles, pulling back a little and clearing his throat after a moment, realising he’s supposed to be closed off and not let anyone in, not expose his emotions or feelings or thoughts, but you shake your head.

“Everyone has their demons, Joel. You shouldn’t be afraid to let yourself feel, especially around me.” You murmur. Maybe you should share your own past. You don’t want him to feel alone.

“You wanna know why I’m so afraid of the dark?” You begin, and he doesn’t protest, so you take a deep breath and continue.

“Lost my brother a few years back. Maybe a year before I got to Jackson. We were actually trying to find the place, travelling through the night, and we had to cut through this mall. There were infected roaming outside, and even though we knew that the mall could have raiders in it, we didn’t wanna take on a dozen clickers. So… we start wandering through this dark mall. No lights, no windows, and we only had one flashlight. He went in front and I was following, but- but I knocked something over. And then we heard voices in the distance. They said that they would check out the noise.” You pause to collect yourself, trying to prepare mentally as you recount what happened next. “They said that.. That if they saw anyone to just shoot them. All I remember was that it was so dark, before we saw the flashlight on a rifle. I barely had a chance to think before my brother grabbed my hand and ran blindly with me. We tried finding the exit but- just when we saw the light, he got shot. It was in his stomach and-” You cut yourself off with a quiet sob, trying to continue. “He just crumpled. The last thing he told me was- was to leave him. To keep going for him. I could hear the men coming, but I was still trying to pick him back up or- or something. Then I saw the man aim his gun at me and I panicked and I ran. Like a coward.” You can’t stop yourself from crying now, unable to say any more.

“Oh, baby…” He whispers, pulling you closer and letting you cry. You whimper at his touch. When was the last time you properly cried like this? You’ve been so used to putting on a mask that when you finally let go like this you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“I just- I feel so guilty. I don’t deserve to be happy and safe in Jackson without him. I should’ve died that night. I knocked over the fucking boxes, I-”

He shushes you gently, recognising what you actually mean, knowing the feeling all too well - and knowing you don’t deserve to feel like that.

“Don’t say that, sweetheart. He would’ve wanted you to live and be happy here… Don’t ever say that.” He says, quiet, but firm in his tone.

You sniffle, exhaling shakily. His words don’t totally convince you, but you know deep down that he’s right. He would’ve wanted you to be safe. He would’ve rested easier knowing that he was able to protect you in the end, that it was all worth something.

“I miss him, Joel.” You whimper.

“I know. I miss my girl so much it hurts. It never gets easier, does it?” He says, to which you nod, burrowing further into his side as you yawn softly. You cried yourself to exhaustion.

“Just sleep now, okay? I’ll be here. We’ll keep the lights on.”

You just nod, too tired to respond as your brain finally powers off, and you fall asleep.

He sighs, stroking your hair as he looks back to the slit in the window. He always knew. There was no way someone could truly be this happy on the outside, and really feel it on the inside. He wishes you did feel it on the inside, though. The pain of losing someone you love was one of the worst pains imaginable - he had the scars to prove it.

The next morning is quiet, but not awkward. You both exposed yourselves last night. Even though he said way less than you, you know that your levels of vulnerability vary greatly and you both showed eachother your rawest feelings and shared your darkest memories, deepening your relationship further.

“You ready to head back?” He says after you’ve packed everything up, and you nod.

The journey back starts off quiet, the two of you still deep in thought, before you finally pull yourself back together a little - enough to have some normal conversation.

“So, you got a party planned for Ellie’s birthday?” You ask, looking over at him. He’s on your left again, and you try not to think about why, now that you know the true reason.

“I dunno. Was gonna do somethin’ at the Bison, but I’m not sure yet.”

“Joel!” You gasp playfully. “Her birthday’s only a few weeks away! You gotta let me help you plan this party. I’ll make it into every 16 year-old’s dream.”

He gives you a teasing look, and you roll your eyes. “Trust me, Joel. I got better taste than you, that’s for sure.” You argue, and he relents.

“Fine. If she hates it, I’m blamin’ you.”

“Challenge accepted.” You snicker, hiding the bubbling excitement inside of you, knowing you’ll be spending even more time with Joel over the next few weeks.

Trying to ignore the fact that you cannot fucking wait.

Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated <3

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Tags- @mermaidgirl30 @tuquoquebrute @joelmillerisapunk @pascals-doll @casa-boiardi @konigslittleliebling @xxx-silhouette-xxx @hannah9921 @friskispunk @orcasoul @roryfuckedurmum @s0meoone

[thetriumphantpanda]

baby, I'm the whole damn meal

I have no explanation other than I need to find myself a dbf!Joel of my own because this man is magic. Welcome to part 6 with our friendly neighbourhood DILF. Enjoy.

Pairing | dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary | Joel saves your ass by giving you a ride to work, and then promises you a night you won't forget.

Word Count | 4.2k

Warnings | As ever, blanket warning for dbf!Joel being a general menace. Age gap (Reader is 25, Joel is 36), flirting, light sexting, edging/orgasm denial, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, protected PiV sex, aftercare.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Texas Sun Playlist

You’re late. Not exactly the first impression you were hoping to make on the start of your second week at work. It was sweltering outside, which meant you’d opted for a shorter and thinner dress to begin with, then thrown it off and gone for something more work-appropriate when you remembered the archives were basically like a freezer from the air-conditioning. You said a silent prayer to your beat-up car that it’s feeling generous with you on the drive into the city and will let the aircon work, so you don’t turn up looking like you’d run five miles. 

You grab your keys and your bag and bound out of the door, straight into the back of your dad, who is stood on the porch talking to Joel. 

“Woah, careful there, kiddo,” Your dad murmurs, catching you before you can fall back on your ass, “In a rush?” 

“If I don’t leave in the next thirty seconds, I’ll be late for work,” You explain, steadying yourself on your feet, “Oh, morning Joel.” You shoot over your dad’s shoulder, as if you hadn’t spotted him the second you opened the door. 

“Morning,” He shoots back, giving his signature smile to you, which causes a blush to flush across your cheeks, “You have a good day now.” 

“You too!” You call over your shoulder, unlocking your car and throwing your back in the back seat. 

You settle into the driver’s side and turn your key and groan, because of course the engine is spluttering and refusing to actually switch on. It’s like it can sense you’re in a rush, the one morning you really need it to cooperate with you, it decides it’s had enough. 

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me,” You mumble, letting your forehead hit the top of the steering wheel, “I ask one thing and you can’t even do that.” 

A light tapping on the driver’s window makes you jump, but it’s just Joel. You open the door slightly, “You need a ride?” 

“I don’t want you to go out of your way for me,” You mumble, “But yeah, I need a ride.” 

“I’m headin’ into town for some supplies so it’s no trouble at all, sugar,” He speaks quietly so your dad doesn’t catch the new nickname Joel’s got for you, “You hop into my truck, and we’ll get goin’ as soon as I’ve said goodbye to your old man.” 

You’re listening to their conversation as you reach for your bag and heat to the passenger side of Joel’s truck. 

“You make sure you bring the little lady over when she’s back,” Your dad is saying, “I’ll make sure to get the grill going.” 

“I will,” Joel promises, reaching out his hand for your dad to shake it, “I’ll catch you later, old man.” 

Your dad chuckles, “Make sure she pays you for gas, Joel!” He exclaims once Joel has turned around to make his way to his truck, “It’s her own fault for not buying a new car sooner.” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” He shoots a look at you through his open driver’s side window, “I’ll make sure she pays for her ride.” 

You’re stunned into silence for a while as he sits down behind the wheel and makes to pull out of your dad’s driveway. He looks over at you and shrugs with a laugh, “You okay, darlin’?” 

“Are you for real?” You scoff, “You’re a subtle as a brick sometimes, Joel Miller.” 

“I didn’t say anythin’ that wasn’t true.” 

It’s too early in the morning for this, you decide, “What were you doing over here anyway?” 

“Your dad wanted to borrow some tools for somethin’,” He answers, pulling out of your street and onto the main road, “Brought ‘em over before I went to work.” 

You nod in understanding, “And Sarah, she’s back soon, right?” 

He hums in the affirmative, letting his palm rest on your knee, “Back tomorrow evenin’, means it might be harder to see you.” 

You take hold of his hand at your knee, “We always knew that Joel,” You turn and smile at him, “We’ll make it work.” 

It. Whatever it was, you were determined to make it work. In the space of a few weeks, he’d well and truly wormed his way under your skin and settled there, refusing to leave even if you’d wanted him to. Too caught up in how he fucked you and not wanting to cause him to run off into the sunset with your conversations of commitment, you’d skirted round asking what it was that you two were doing exactly. If it meant you could keep him by your side and buried deep inside you, you’d carry on avoiding the conversation too. 

“How about you come to mine after work?” He suggests, “I don’t know, tell ya’ dad you’re going out, I’ll pick you up and I can make the most of you while I still can?” 

You think for a second about how you’ll get that one past your dad. You’d been home straight after work every night last night, staying up only long enough to eat your dinner, before collapsing into bed. And it was a Monday night, who the hell goes out on a Monday night after work? But if this was the last time you were going to get Joel, in his house alone, you were damn sure you were going to do it. 

“Alright,” You agree, giving his hand a squeeze, “Pick me up at six?” 

“I’ll be ready and waiting, sugar.” 

*

“I promise I’ll be sensible dad,” You sigh, shoveling another forkful of salad into your mouth, “It’s just a few drinks, we won’t be that late.” 

“Alright, well, if you need pickin’ up earlier, you just call, okay?” You know he only means well when he goes into protective mode, but you’re twenty-five years old and managed to live in New York City for years without any real incident, “And if your designated driver starts drinkin’ you call me.” 

You feel your phone vibrate against your ear, signaling a text, “I will dad,” You spear another bit of lettuce with your fork, “I gotta go, but I’ll see you later.” 

“See you later, kiddo,” He speaks, “Love you.” 

“Love you too!” 

As soon as you hang up, you’re checking your messages. It’s Joel. He’s a man of few words when it comes to texting, only ever really using it to make plans with you to sneak around somewhere. 

Joel Miller. 

Can’t stop thinking about you. 

You smile at your desk, resting your chin in your palm as you read it over. 

Can’t stop thinking about you either. 

You put your phone back on your desk and finish your lunch. Not only is he a man of few words when it comes to texting, but it usually takes him a good ten minutes to reply. You’ve seen him texting Sarah to the point that it’s actually comical. 

Been thinking of bending you over my kitchen counter, what do you think? 

You almost splutter the mouthful of water you were drinking all over the computer screen in front of you. Was Joel Miller attempting to sext you at work? 

Dangerous thoughts for the middle of the day. But you know I like being bent over just for you. 

This time he does take a few minutes to respond. You like to think you’ve got him flustered on whatever jobsite he’s at today, shoving his phone back into his pocket and taking deep breaths so he can go back to work with a clear head. 

I know you do baby. Gonna fuck you so good later, be feeling me for days. 

That’s not much of a change Joel, I always feel you for days after. 

You grab your phone and the list of documents your manager had given you to pull for the afternoon and head down into the archive itself. You check your phone, thankful there’s enough signal for any more of his messages to come through to you. 

Might not get the chance again for a while, gotta make sure you’re remembering me for as long as possible. 

You scoff a little, as if you’d ever forget. 

Gonna be in for a long night then? 

You start pulling the documents on the list, getting three down before your phone is vibrating again. 

If you can walk outta my house, I’ve not done it properly. 

You can feel the arousal pooling in your lower stomach, goosebumps peppering your skin at the thought of him doing just as he promised. Burying himself deep inside you, pounding his cock into from behind. You can already feel the delicious ache he usually leaves you with. 

I hope that’s a promise, Miller. Now stop distracting me and go back to work. 

His reply, for once, is almost instantaneous.

Yes ma’am. See you at six. 

The rest of the day is a blur. You’re too distracted by Joel’s promises that it takes you far longer than it should to finish pulling all the documents you needed. Then, when your mind wanders to visions of the last time he had you bent over a kitchen island, you have to double check where you’re distributing them to. You’re grateful when, at six o’clock, your colleague Hanna comes up behind you, your bag in her hand, to tell you it’s time to leave. 

“Come on, I’ll walk you out.” She smiles. 

Hanna was close to your age, which was a welcome change to the mostly older women who worked in your team. She was Canadian, moving to Austin after her degree and you’d already become fast work friends. When you exit the building, Joel is stood against the hood of his truck, one ankle folded over the over, with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Who is that?” Hanna enquires when he waves at you. 

“That’s Joel,” You smile, not able to hide the pride that this man was yours, “He’s my…. Well, I actually don’t know what he is, but we fuck.” 

Hanna’s eyes dart between you and Joel, a smirk on her face, “Damn girl, get it.” 

You both break into fits of giggles before you give each other a hug, Hanna heading down to catch the bus to her apartment whilst you practically jog over to Joel’s truck. 

“What’s so funny?” He grumbles, dipping his head to press a soft kiss to your lips. 

“Oh nothing,” You tease, standing on your tiptoes to press another kiss to his lips, “Just happy to see you.” 

You feel his hand trail down your back to grip the globe of your ass through your dress, “You talkin’ about me, pretty girl?” He growls into your ear. 

“Might have been,” You shrug, “Just showing you off, handsome.” 

“Get in the damn truck.” He says with a playful swat to your ass. 

“Yes sir.” You smirk, hopping up into your seat. 

The drive back to his house in thick with tension. He’s got his hand on your leg, much like he had this morning, but this time his fingers are gripping into the meat of your thigh. Whenever it’s safe, his eyes are trailing over your body, dark with wanting. He pulls up outside his house in no time, taking a few moments to look up the street to make sure no-one is going to notice you sneaking in through his front door. 

When the coast is clear, you grab your bag and follow him to the door. He unlocks it and pushes it open, letting you through first. 

“You hungry, Joel?” You call over your shoulder once you’ve thrown your bag next to his couch, “We could order something in?” 

You’re rooting through his fridge for something cold to drink and don’t hear a reply. Gripping the tops of two bottles of beer, you stand back up, “Hey, Joel, did you hear me?!” You yell as you’re closing the fridge door. 

“I heard ya.” He’s standing at the kitchen island, leant on his palms, with those deep, brown eyes trailing over your body. 

“So, are you hungry?” You ask again, flicking the tops off the bottles before placing one down in front of him. 

His eyes drag slowly down your body as he tips his bottle to his lips, “I could eat, yeah.” 

“What are you hungry for?” You question, “We could get pizza, or maybe a Chinese takeout?”

He shakes his head, “Not hungry for those.” He shrugs. 

“Well, what are you hungry for?” 

“You.”

Your eyes widen at his words, “I’m not even really a snack Joel.” 

He’s shifted his position to be leaning on his hip at the end of the island with his hand outstretched to you, “Sugar, you’re so wrong,” He breathes as you take hold of his hand, “You’re a whole damn meal.” 

He’s leading you to the table and gesturing for you to sit on it, “You want me to sit on there?” You ask with a snort, not sure that it’s going to hold your weight. 

“I said I was hungry for ya, didn’t I?” Joel asks with an eyebrow raised, you nod in agreement though, “Well then sit down and let me eat that perfect pussy.” 

He steadies you with wide palms on your hips as you settle your ass on the table. Of course, it holds your weight, because he built it. You remember Sarah gushing over how he’d made it a few years back. 

Joel drops to his knees after he’s pulled the chair away from the table, his hands dragging from your hips to the hem of your dress just above your knees. He’s pushing the fabric up your thighs devastatingly slowly, pressing hot kisses to each inch of new skin he uncovers. You’re leaning back with your palms braced on the wood behind you, soft gasps tumbling from your lips at each touch of his lips to your skin. 

Once he’s shucked as much of the material to bunch at your waist as he can, his hands are back on your hips, this time under your dress, keeping you in place as he drags the same slow trail of kisses back down your other thigh until he reaches your knee. He’s hooking both of your legs over his shoulders, shuffling into you a little more on his knees before you can feel hit hot breath fanning the material of your underwear which is practically sticking to your core from arousal. 

“You gonna be all wet for me, sugar?” He asks, “All that textin’ got you worked up for me?

“What don’t you find out for yourself?” You challenge, feeling your legs shake on his shoulders from the slight chuckle he lets out. 

“Would rather you tell me,” He murmurs, planting a kiss on the skin of your groin, right where the seam of your underwear begins, “Tell me how hot I made ya?” 

“So fucking hot, Joel,” You whimper as he presses a similar kiss to the other side of your underwear, “Couldn’t think straight.” 

He’s gently running his thumb along the seam of your pussy through the cotton covering your core. It’s so featherlight that if you weren’t burning from every nerve ending, you’d probably have missed it, but it’s there, and it has you bucking your hips and begging for more friction. 

“So, if I peeled these off, you’d be soaked for me, right sugar?” 

You gather what sanity is left in your brain, reaching down between your thighs to take his chin in your hand, tilting his face to meet yours, “Why don’t you fuck around and find out, Joel Miller?” 

With his eyes on yours you swear you see something snap behind his brown orbs. His hands are practically ripping the material off your body. They’re thrown over his shoulder and forgotten, just like his need to incessantly tease you when the flat of his tongue licks a wide stripe along the now naked seam of your pussy. A soft sigh leaves your lips as his tongue mimics the movement once more, this time, the tip of his tongue dipping just below your folds to graze your clit, ever so gently. 

You’re widening your thighs, baring your naked cunt to his face. He’s got his hands splayed back on your hips to keep you still, his tongue once against licking a familiar stripe, this time through your folds, stopping to flick the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue yet again, but this time with more purpose than before, more purpose that to just tease you. This man between your thighs wants to devour you. 

Joel’s hands are spreading your pussy wide, baring your entire core to his mouth as his tongue moves from the precise movements over your clit, down to the weeping entrance. His tongue swirls and gathers the slick that has gathered there. 

“God, you taste so fuckin’ good, sweetheart,” He groans into your core, taking his time to swipe his tongue through the wetness again, “Best damn meal I ever had.” 

“Joel, please,” You beg, letting your fingers run through the dark strands of his hair, “It’s not enough.” 

You can feel his mouth grin into the skin of your pussy, he licks a stripe back up to your clit before focusing on your clit, making short and fast flicks to the bud with the tip of his tongue. Your grind your hips into his face, hands gripping at the back of his head to keep him in place because this is exactly what you needed. The movement of his tongue is precise, switching from short flicks in and up and down motion, to tight circles. It’s enough to have you teetering on the edge but still not enough. You’re shifting your ass to the edge of the table, hoping that bringing his tongue closer to you will help, but it doesn’t.

“Fingers, Joel,” You demand, groaning in frustration when his movements stop altogether, “Please baby, I need it so bad.” 

“All you had to do was ask nicely.” He says, pulling back just enough to give him room to speak before you feel two of his thick fingers pushing inside of you. 

He curls them up into your pussy almost immediately, whilst his lips wrap around your clit. The pressure of him sucking on your clit, teamed with his still precise flicks, and the thrusting of his fingers inside you have you hurtling towards the cliff face of your orgasm in record time. You’re so close you can almost reach out a hand and grab it to pull yourself over the edge. Joel knows it, can feel your pussy clenching and fluttering around his fingers, and the son of a bitch pulls his fingers and mouth from you just before you can come. 

“No!” You exclaimed, looking down at him with wide eyes full of frustration, you’re pulling at his hair to try and get him to put himself back on you, “Nonononono.” You whine in frustration as he stands from his knees. 

He dips down, pressing a kiss wet with your slick to your cheek, bringing his lips to your ear, “Patience sugar,” He chuckles, hands moving to undo his belt, “Promise it’ll feel better if you wait for it.” 

Your chest is heaving, pussy fluttering around nothing as you sit and watch as he sheds his jeans, kicking them backwards to join your underwear on the kitchen floor. Then he’s tugging his t-shirt over his head. If you weren’t so angry with him, you’d be able to appreciate the broad expanse of his chest, the way the muscles of his biceps clenched whenever he moved. All you could focus on was the intense need to chase the high he’d deprived you of. You weren’t even overly bothered when he helps you stand, dragging your dress over your body to meet it on the floor with the rest of his clothes. You’re aware of the fact that he unclips your bra, grateful more than anything that it’s off after a long day. 

Then, Joel is turning you around, placing his warm palm at the nape of your neck and pushing you down to the table. Your palms are resting on the wood in front of you. You turn around and watch as he fishes a condom from his wallet, shucking his boxers off before sheathing himself. 

“Gonna fuck you so good, pretty girl,” He murmurs behind you, using one of his feet to kick gently at your ankle, causing you to widen your stance, “Promised you I would.”

You can feel the head of his cock nudging at your slick entrance before he’s slowly burying himself inside you to the hilt. You let out a whine of satisfaction at the feeling of him filling you. He pulls himself back a little before he’s slamming back into your pussy like he means it this time. He’s pounding into you so hard that your hips are digging into the table in front of you. He’s got one hand gripping the nape of your neck again, keeping you pressed down, the other gripping the meat of your ass. 

“You like that?” He asks, grunting behind you as he pulls out and thrusts back in, “Like it when I fill your pretty pussy like this.” 

Oh God, I really do, is all you can think, but the way his cock is brushing against that perfect spot inside you means you can’t talk, only let a throaty moan drop from your mouth. 

“Fuckin’ you so good you can’t even talk, pretty girl,” Joel chuckles, his point proven when he shifts the angle of his hips slightly and has you crying out when he thrusts back into you, “Gotta remember this, okay?” You nod, “Remember how well I fuck you when I can’t be there.” 

It’s desperate from here on out. He’s rutting into you like a man starved, hips beginning to stutter as he climbs towards his own climax. You think he might actually leave you hanging until the hand that was gripping your ass slips in front of you and begins circling your clit. You almost cry with relief. The circles on your clit are messy but they’re doing their job. You can feel your tight walls clenching around Joel’s cock, can hear that way his moans change when you do. Neither of you are going to last much longer, it’s just a question of who gets there first. 

Just as you think the answer is going to be you, Joel once more pulls his hand from your pussy, and you actually cry. The second time he’s cruelly denied you your release and you’re fed up. He’s always been a giver. Always made sure you finish before he does. But right now, he doesn’t seem to care. Both his hands are gripping your hips, you know there will be bruises of his fingertips there tomorrow. He thrusts into your pussy twice more, maybe three times before he’s stilling inside of you and groaning your name behind you. 

You don’t really think he gives himself enough time before he’s slipping out of you, pulling you up and around to sit you back on the table before he’s once again on his knees with his face buried in your cunt. 

“You wanna come, pretty girl?” He asks, thumbing at your clit gently. 

“Make me come right now Joel Miller,” You demand, tears dripping from the corner of your eyes in frustration, “Before I kill you.” 

His lips circle your clit again and he’s lapping at your pussy like it’s his last meal on earth. His fingers are back inside you, curling again, reaching that sweet spot inside you that has your back arching into him. 

It’s quick and it’s overwhelming when it arrives. Your whole body is convulsing and you’re calling his name out into the emptiness of the room. There’s are dark spots in your vision and the aftershocks are more intense than you’d ever felt before. Joel is slipping his fingers from you but continues pressing light kisses to your clit as you come down from your high. 

He lets you fall back onto the table for a moment as he disposes of the condom, but is back quickly, gathering you up into his arms and walking you to the couch. He lies down and settles you on top of him. He knows that he pushed you tonight, knows that the shaking of your shoulders and the tears in your eyes are because you’re overwhelmed. He runs his fingers through your hair, pressing soft kisses to your forehead whilst you recover. 

“You okay, sugar?” He whispers into your hair as his other hand rubs soothing lines up and down your spine. 

You look up at him, eyes glazed, “I am more than okay, Miller.” You mumble, letting your lips drop to his chest to press a kiss to them. 

He tilts your chin to his face, shuffling a little to capture your lips in his for a tender kiss, he pulls away, leaving barely any space between your lips and his, “Did so well for me,” He praises, “Hopefully that’ll keep you going until I can see you again.” 

You press forward and kiss him again, letting your arms circle his neck, “Seriously now though,” You whisper, gathering your strength, “What do you want to eat, because I’m starving.” 

[chaotic-orphan]

INTOXICATING FEAR (IX)

Much Needed Alone Time

Read part one here

Continued from here

TW: overall content warning, very uncomfortable, forced self-harm, self-harm, mentions of self-harm, explicit self harm, gory self harm, blood, cuts, knives, cutting, explicit detail of blood/wounds, gross depictions of blood, torture, threats of violence, hopelessness, sadistic whumper

This one is even a bit squidgy for me at parts so take care of the warnings and of yourselves! Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

“Wakey wakey, Kit,” Ambrose sang. That was his only warning before a slap echoed around the room and Kit’s eyes shot open in shock. Ambrose was crouching in front of Kit, pale red lips tilted up into a half smile as Kit jerked forward. He didn’t get very far though.

Kit’s arms were kept restrained awkwardly behind him, bound tightly wrist to wrist. Kit frowned at Ambrose in question.

“Where’s Superhero?” Kit asked, voice erring on cautious. If Ambrose had managed to subdue or God forbid kidnap Superhero… or use him as his own little puppet toy plaything, then there really was no hope for either of them.

“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head about Superhero, Kit. He had to nip out on an errand which gives us some much-needed alone time,” Ambrose said, his voice too high and pleased with himself as he spoke, but his eyes… Kit swallowed the lump in his throat at the pain they promised. “Ah, there you are. There’s my scared, timid little Kit. You forgot yourself before, it’s okay. You can admit it, it’s only the two of us here after all.”

“I didn’t forget myself,” Kit snarled, bearing his teeth at Ambrose and jerking forward in the chair as far as he were able to. “I am done playing by the rules of your sick twisted games.”

Ambrose tilted his head to the side, dark eyes drinking in Kit’s threat. “Did seeing Superhero make you brave, Kit?”

“He’s going to see right through you,” Kit sneered, “and when he does, I’ll be there. Watching as he beats the—”

Ambrose jumped at Kit, one hand going to his throat while the other pressed a knife against Kit’s cheek. Ambrose wrenched Kit’s head up, so he was staring directly into Ambrose’s eyes with that cute little defiant look. Ambrose revelled at how still Kit went once Ambrose introduced the knife to his face.

��You won’t be able to watch if I pluck out those pretty little eyes, Kit, would you?” Ambrose mused. Kit shook his, trying to shake free Ambrose’s grip, but Ambrose tightened his hold and pressed the knife in deeper until Kit stopped moving. “Ah, ah, ah, Kit. Play nice or my hand might just slip.”

“Take my eyes!” Kit spat, his voice taking on a feral growl to it, as he struggled furiously in his restraints. “Take whatever the fuck you want because you will fuck up sooner or later and it’s only a matter of time until Superhero finds out who you really are! So go ahead!”

Kit craned his neck up further, pressing into the knife that Ambrose held. Daring him.

Bold.

Ambrose pulled away, dropping all contact from Kit. Kit let out a scoff as he dropped his head and rolled his shoulders.

“Yeah, thought so.”

“You know, Kit,” Ambrose said with a sigh, pressing the tip of the knife against his index finger and twirling it thoughtfully. He turned his back to Kit, walking towards the front door.

“You’re right. I didn’t really think the whole sickness thing through, if Superhero comes back and you’re still as feverish as you were, well,” Ambrose said inclining his head, with a wan smile: “he’d probably recommend a hospital or a healer… both of which I have no need of.”

Kit remained silent. He glared at Ambrose as he continued.

“So, while you were out of it, I was trying to think of a way to get Superhero off our backs and I had a little lightbulb moment, Kit,” Ambrose said, and looked over his shoulder at Kit with a grin, “you wanna know what it was?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway.”

“You’re so un-fun, but I will,” said Ambrose, turning to face Kit now. “Sometimes stress manifests itself as illness, Kit.”

“Well, I am sick of you, so that makes sense,” Kit grumbled. Ambrose laughed.

“And sometimes, it manifests as mental illness.” Kit’s brows furrowed in question. Ambrose smiled. “Don’t you want to have a guess at what I mean by that?”

“Not particularly.”

Ambrose shrugged. “Good. So, we can begin then.”

Kit tensed in the chair as Ambrose walked purposefully towards him, around the chair and out of sight. Kit turned his head, but Ambrose pushed it back, so Kit was forced to stare forward.

“Hey! Hey! What’re you—”

“Oh, not so brave now, are we?” Ambrose asked, sarcasm dripping from every word.

When the cool metal pressed against Kit’s wrist he jerked forward, trying to get away but Ambrose said: “stay still,” and the sludge like command melted Kit’s brain until he was forced into immobile submission.

The metal pressed against Kit’s wrist again and to Kit’s surprise, Ambrose cut him free of the ropes or whatever was tying him to the chair. He still couldn’t move but for some reason being free didn’t exactly make Kit’s heart sing with joy. Something like dread settled at the bottom of his gut instead as Ambrose walked around the chair again.

“Now, Kit, illness… sickness, physical sickness can be treated by a healer or a doctor but mental illness? Especially from stress, perhaps… oh I don’t know, work related stress from being a hero, for example. That is treated by time away from the stressors.”

Ambrose paused to let his words properly sink into Kit’s brain. Ambrose didn’t speak again until Kit’s wide eyes met Ambrose’s with a panicked kind of hatred.

“No,” Kit said. “No! You can’t—”

“Oh, yes, Kit. Yes, I can.”

“Superhero would never… he wouldn’t—” Kit blubbered before furious eyes met Ambrose’s dark ones. “He would check on me every day—”

“Would he? A good soul like Superhero? Or would the guilt of having maybe pushed you too hard, or not having seen the signs earlier prevent him from coming regularly?”

“Wait, Ambrose. You can’t do this!”

“Oh, I can,” Ambrose chuckled.

Kit’s mouth screwed up desperately, his breathing coming out a bit faster than necessary. “But— but I won’t be as fun if you can’t fuck with me when I’m at the hero tower, and you won’t learn about anything or be able to take down the heroes from within, or— or—”

“Oh relax,” Ambrose said with a wave of his hand. “This isn’t going to be permanent, Kit. Just a long enough break away from the stressful environment of being a hero. Some good old-fashioned R&R with yours truly will set you right.”

Ambrose bit back a grin when he saw tears gather behind Kit’s eyes as he struggled to try and fight Ambrose’s compulsion.

“Please, Ambrose. Please! Anything but that, please. I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever you want. Please, I’ll stop fighting you. Please just don’t— don’t—” Kit cried, cutting himself off with a heartfelt sob, sniffing as the tears started falling down his cheeks.

Ambrose moved closer, cooing at Kit’s pathetic display of desperation. He pressed a cold hand against Kit’s cheek and brushed the tear streaks away with the coarse pad of his thumb. A sympathetic smile on his stupidly too-red lips.

“It’s okay, Kit. Everything will be fine. Come on, walk with me to the bathroom. The blood will be easier to clean off there.”

To Kit’s horror his body obeyed Ambrose’s command. Every neuron in Kit’s brain was firing at him to stop, to not go with Ambrose, to fight, to regain control over his own body – but it was all in vain.

Kit stood from the chair and followed Ambrose across his living room into his bathroom. Ambrose turned on the light, and turned to grin at Kit, holding out a hand.

“What?!” Kit barked, wiping the angry tears from his eyes.

“Well, you have two choices Kit, you either; step into the bath or hold your arms over it,” Ambrose said, leaning his lower back against the sink and crossing his long legs. “The choice is yours; it doesn’t really affect me.”

“Is it?” Kit asked, coming to stand in front of Ambrose, his heart thundering against his ears. If he could stall for time and wait for Superhero to come back, he could catch Ambrose in the act. He’d know that Kit was suffering at the hands of a fucking tyrant.

The corner of Ambrose’s lips quipped up. “Knock yourself out, Kit. Enjoy the freedom.”

“Except it’s not freedom cause either way you’re going to make me do one of them, aren’t you?”

“Well obviously,” he deadpanned. “But I can wait if you want. We can wait until your precious Superhero comes back and instead of hurting yourself you can hurt him too. Would you like that, Kit?”

“You said you wouldn’t read my mind anymore. Takes the fun out of it, have you changed your tune?”

Ambrose rolled his eyes and stood to his full height, stepping forward and knocking Kit back a step with his shoulder. Kit’s eyebrows rose in surprise as he stumbled back, forgetting that Ambrose was taller than him.

“Honestly Kit, I try,” Ambrose said with another step. Kit matched it with one backwards, still glaring up at him. “But sometimes it’s so rare that you think anything in that little noodle of yours, that the thoughts are too loud for me to ignore.”

Ambrose pressed a finger into Kit’s forehead and tipped him back another step before Kit batted his hand away.

“Real funny, Ambrose. Hah-hah!”

“I try,” Ambrose said, flashing a charming smile. “But you’re right. I have decided. In the bath is better than out.”

Without pausing Ambrose pressed his palm flat on Kit’s chest, fingers spread and shoved Kit backwards. Kit hadn’t realised how close he was to the bath, so it came as a surprise when his thigh hit the edge. He shot his hands out to steady himself too late, failing to grab hold of Ambrose and gravity had him in its claws. Ambrose getting further away as Kit fell, his head smacking off the tiles as he landed awkwardly in the tub.

“Motherfucker!” Kit cried, rubbing his head with a scowl as it pounded from the whack.

Ambrose shrugged leaning back against the sink again, arms folded across his chest. “I did give you the choice to get in the bath of your own accord. This one’s on you.”

“Maybe I want to lean over it,” Kit grumbled, fumbling to right himself. When he settled Kit glared up at Ambrose from the tub. “Well, we don’t have all day. Force me to do whatever you want; I don’t care anymore.”

“Kit,” Ambrose chided. “Don’t have that attitude, come on. Make it fun for me. Struggle a bit.”

“What’s the point? You’ll just use your powers on me and get what you want eventually. Let’s just cut through the bullshit.”

Ambrose shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Ambrose leaned off the sink and handed Kit the knife. “Kit, I want you to take the knife and roll up your sleeves and cut your wrists.”

Kit felt the blood drain from his face.

“What?” Kit whispered as his hand reached for the knife against his will. “Wait! Ambrose, you can’t want to kill me I thought—”

“Oh hush, Kit. Don’t be dramatic. Make the cuts horizontal. Not deep enough to bleed out, or need stitches, but enough to leave scars.”

Kit was rolling up his sleeves as Ambrose spoke. “Ambrose, wait please. Please! Wait! Stop! Why can’t you do this to me? You cut me! Make them believable? Please?! Ambrose please, I – I don’t want to do this.”

Ambrose crouched so he was eye level with Kit, looking into Kit’s too bright eyes that were already tearing up at the mere thought of Ambrose’s command.

“What makes you think I care about what you want, Kit?”

Kit let out a sharp hiss as the blade sliced through his skin. Kit didn’t look down. He didn’t want to see what his body was doing to itself. Instead, he stared at Ambrose as he cut and Ambrose stared at Kit, never dropping eye contact for a second. Black eyes drinking in every twinge of pain flashing across Kit’s face, savouring every morsel of emotion that bled through his features.

Kit was doing a good job of keeping his face impassive. Until the third cut. Kit sucked in a sharp breath as he banged his leg against the wall of the bath, wrenching his head up to stare at the ceiling and breathing slowly out through his mouth with a pained hum.

“Alright there, Kit?”

“Never bett— AGH! Fuck!”

This time Kit looked, and he wished he didn’t. Sticky blood surrounded his wrist, thick and dark and gloopy. Kit couldn’t even tell where the cuts were because the blood from the last cut had washed over them all, leaving streams of blood racing down Kit’s palm. Splashing down onto the snow-white acrylic bottom of the tub.

Kit was going to be sick, but there was no time as his arm mechanically moved back to slice again. Kit looked up pleadingly into Ambrose’s black eyes, looking for any sign of sympathy or empathy, finding nothing except his own pathetic reflection staring back at him. Kit bit his lip to stop crying out on the last cut before Ambrose moved.

“Okay, Kit. That arm has enough. Mo—”

“Wait,” Kit croaked, licking his lips. “Waitwaitwaitwait, wait…”

Ambrose paused, tilting his head, eyebrows arching at interruption. He didn’t punish Kit though or chastise him, so Kit took that as an opportunity to continue.

“The… the blood— my knife will slip. I need to—”

“Okay Kit,” Ambrose said softly. “We can wait while you fix yourself.”

“Thank you,” Kit breathed, dropping the knife onto the tub floor with a clatter. Kit’s hands were shaking violently as he wiped the blood on his tracksuit bottoms, biting his lip to quiet the pained whimpers.

Ambrose clicked his tongue and said, “Kit stop. You’ll ruin them. Use the water.”

Kit blinked up owlishly at Ambrose, eyes glazed over as if the thought of using the bath hadn’t occurred to him. Kit nodded dumbly and reached over to the end of the bath, turning on the cold tap. The water was freezing. Before Kit could talk himself out of it, he gritted his teeth and plunged his arm under the spray.

Kit let out a startled gasp of pain, making his other hand a fist and beating it off the side of the bath because the cuts stung under the icy water. Kit bit his lip and rubbed the sticky coagulated strings of blood from his arm and hand. He did his best to not watch them slither like snakes down the drain and instead focused on turning the tap off.

Kit looked down at his arm to see fresh bright red blood surface in his cuts. None of them too deep. Exactly what Ambrose wanted. Exactly what Ambrose commanded of him, and he obeyed like a good little puppet.

Kit pushed himself back to the middle of the bath trying to push that though from his mind. His damp tracksuit clinging awkwardly to some places as he scooted across. Kit found Ambrose’s eyes with his own as he wiped the fresh streams of blood on his tracksuit, half to dry his hands, half to fuck with Ambrose just because.

Kit grabbed the knife and got comfortable, balancing his knees against the inside of the bath, feet planted on the bottom of the tub. He cocked a brow at Ambrose, as if to say I’m waiting, and Ambrose had to laugh inwardly at the gall.

Ambrose’s lips quipped up at the simple defiance. “Okay, Kit. Now cut your other arm.”

Ambrose relished Kit’s shaking hand as he drew the knife over his skin. He wanted to record all of Kit’s micro reactions in his brain just so he can think back on this moment whenever he was feeling down. It was intoxicating.

To watch Kit’s hand tremor, his body fight against Ambrose’s power and not be able to do a single thing to stop him. He could feel Kit’s mental resistance trying to fight Ambrose’s compulsion off him as he made the second cut. Ambrose drank in his expressions, every muted wince that he tried so hard not to show Ambrose.

It was pure turmoil he put Kit in, and it was addicting. He could watch it all day, and never get bored but that was just with Kit. Most of his other victims had a weak constitution and gave in a few days into Ambrose’s mental assault, in hopes that Ambrose would get bored and let them go. Some of them stopped fighting him out of sheer weakness, but not Kit. Never Kit. How long had it been now? Weeks? Months? And Kit was still fighting him.

Even if it wasn’t fighting Ambrose’s powers mentally, it was his little looks of defiance, his unwillingness to concede even if it would make life easier on him. No… Kit was a fighter and Ambrose couldn’t get enough of it. Finally, someone to match him, to challenge him. To say no and make everything difficult just because. It was obviously an illusion, but to Kit it seemed to be some semblance of control that he could pretend to have.

His favourite part was coming up now… ah yes. After the third cut, Kit bit his lip to stop the sudden cry. A deeper cut. He brought his head up and stared Ambrose directly in the eyes, that defiance still evident through his pain filled, glassy eyes on the verge of tears. Even when he wanted Ambrose to show mercy, he refused to ask.

It felt like Christmas and Kit was a gift for Ambrose to toy with, to batter and break and fix and break again, but a toy doesn’t give you that same satisfaction. The euphoria of seeing Kit’s white knuckled grip tight around the handle of the knife as he sliced through his flesh against his will and tried to hide the pain in his expression. Or more aptly, trying and failing to hide it, made it all the sweeter.

Ambrose leaned forward. “Two more, Kit. One deep, one shallow.”

“Nn— no,” Kit whispered, his hand shaking harder now. “No…”

“Remember little Kit, what you are. You’re my little puppet. My plaything, you don’t get to say no to me. Now, deep enough to hurt but not deep enough for hospital.”

“Fuck you,” Kit whispered venomously as he sliced through his arm, deeper this time. Kit cried out loud this time, craning his neck back to glare at the ceiling and Ambrose leaned closer. Observing the strain in Kit’s neck, the veins popping out of his throat. His jaw that was clenched tight enough to grind his teeth. His voice that came out like a pathetic animal’s cry.

“FUCK! Ughh!” Kit groaned, stamping his foot against the wall of the bath again, trying to exert the pain in his arm and transfer it to the bath.

“Look at it, Kit,” Ambrose said, and Kit shook his head.

“Go fuck yourself, Ambrose.”

“Kit. I said, look at the mess you’ve made.”

Kit fought the command like he always did but eventually his head turned down against his will and his eyes fixed on the massacre of blood on his arm again. Ambrose watched as Kit visibly paled at the sight with a soft smile. Kit made another cut while he looked at his arm and then Ambrose plucked the knife from his hand. Kit glared up at him. Ambrose just grinned.

“Clean your arms with the water, then change out of those clothes and put them for the wash. I’ll get the blood out of them, Kit. Don’t worry.”

“You’re so gracious,” Kit spat. Ambrose looked over his shoulder at Kit.

“Kit, slap your cuts for me.”

Kit barely registered the command, but the sharp sting had him letting out a diminished howl through gritted teeth.

“You fucker!” Kit screamed after Ambrose, but Ambrose had already walked out of the bathroom laughing at the good of it. “I hate you!”

“I know, Kit.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

The Orphanage (plz lemme know if you want to be added or removed <;3) - @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom

[lazycats-stuff]

Hi! Can you pls do a batfam x male child reader who loves weapons where Jason takes the reader on his first little mission without Bruce knowing?

Oh that's adorable. It's short, but sweet because where I am it's so hot right now, you feel like dying and just laying around trying to cool off... Anyways, if any of you live in a place where it's very hot, take care of yourselves. Drink water and put on your sunscreen people. Heat is not a joke...

Okay, Jason knew that this wasn't the greatest idea ever and he did calculate how Bruce would react if he was ever to find out about this. And while he did know that Bruce would kill him for doing this, Jason knew that sooner or later (Y/N) would want to go on missions, just like them.

Dick was already going on patrol at the time so it wasn't going to be that bad. If necessary, he was going to use that as an excuse if he is ever caught with (Y/N).

He smiled at the sight of (Y/N) in the old Robin suit, he was so adorable. He put his helmet on and off they went into the night. This night was one of the many firsts for (Y/N). It was way past his bedtime, he never really got a chance to drive on a motorcycle and he never went to these parts of Gotham...

Jason hoped that Bruce never found out about this. He already made (Y/N) promise to not tell Bruce anything. (Y/N) agreed, seeing that Jason was doing a lot for him, something that would probably not make his dad happy.

(Y/N) was enjoying the night, strapped in, Jason making sure that (Y/N) is safe, knowing the dangers of driving a motorcycle. It looked quite comical, a big guy driving and what could be a baby on the front.

" Okay, baby bird, we are here. Do you remember the plan? " Jason asked, parking the bike.

" Yes! You distract them from the front and I sneak in to plant explosives on the spots you said. " (Y/N) said, excited as Jason made sure that (Y/N) is ready.

Jason was already here and he marked all the spots where (Y/N) was supposed to go. " And after that? " Jason asked, making sure that (Y/N) knew the plan.

" Then I go here. " (Y/N) said all excited. Jason nodded and he stood up.

" Come on little bird, on you get. "

Everything went smoothly. (Y/N) did exactly what Jason wanted him to do. He did everything to a T and Jason couldn't be more prouder. He took (Y/N) into his arms, grunting a bit, due to the fact that he got heavier. They grow up so fricking fast.

" Good job little bird, you did a good job. " Jason praised his little brother, who giggled.

" Are we going to do this again? " (Y/N) inquired, smiling.

" We are, little bird, we are. " Jason said, leaning his head against (Y/N)'s. His baby brother is growing up to fast. He still remembers when (Y/N) was a little baby. Such a little baby too... Not the time to be emotional.

" Okay, little bird, lets go back home. I can't have B finding out about our little mission now can we? " Jason said, putting (Y/N) on the motorbike, giving him a small helmet.

" Come on, baby bird let's go back. You need your sleep. "

Jason snuck into the house, carrying his little brother in his arms upstairs, making sure that he isn't seen by any of his siblings. He changed (Y/N) into his PJs and made sure he brushed his teeth.

Afterwards he tucked him into bed. He removed some of (Y/N)'s hair out of his eyes. " Did you enjoy our mission tonight? " Jason asked once more.

" I did Jay. I want to do it again. " (Y/N) said, eyes closing.

" And we will. Now go to sleep. "

(Y/N)'s eyes closed and he out like a light. Jason gave him a kiss on the forehead and left the room, making sure to leave it ajar.

He quickly went to his room, avoiding his other siblings like a plague.

[kikiswriting7]

Take a Chance ✵ JJK ✵ MYG - 3

✵ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Jungkook

✵Summary: Y/N just move across the world to start her University. She is paired with a roommate who is complete social butterfly and makes a bet, Y/N needs to take more chances. And at the hint of her new found friend, her social and romantic life take a dramatic turn.

✵Tags/Warnings: Smut, College AU, red flag, sexual tension. angst, dirty talking, drinking, friends with benefits, full of cliches, friends to lover, temptation

✵Notes: Hi guys! Took a while to update this on AO3 BUT here you go! Let me know what you think <3

lots of love, Kiki

CHAPTER 3 - DAWN

Once more I wake up with the worst hungover. But this time it feels even worse. What the hell happened for me to get like this? I am still wearing last nights clothes and with make up on.  The last thing I remember is Gabi asking those stupid “Drink If” questions. I groan as I leave the bed holdind my head in between my hands. Ugh Im never touching alcohol again. I get up and go to the bathroom in hopes that washing my face with cold water would chase this terrible feeling away.

I reach the bathroom and splash the ice cold water on my face. The only thing that takes it away is the fogness of yesterdays events and everything comes all at once. Us all getting drunk and deciding to go for a walk at the beach late into the evening. Jungkook showing the constelations holding my hand. Coming back home worse. Falling asleep on the couch. Jungkooks strongs arms carring me to my room. Tucking me into bed and leaving shortly after. I look myself in the mirror with pure shock. 

“Fuck…. Eli” I groan. I gamble that she would’ve slept over and go to Gabi’s room where I find them both laying bed looking at their phones. They both just look over their screens but don’t say a word. 

Gabi moves over a bit and pats over the space in between the two. I crawl to the spot and lay face down on the soft and sweet smelling pillow. I let out a groan. 

“I feel like dying” I say the sound muffled by the pillow. 

“you are not alone sister” I receive gentle taps on my back. I sit back down on the bed facing both of them. 

“I’m so sorry for last night, Eli. I swear I didn’t intend to any of that to happen” I say to her with sorrowfull eyes

“I mean, thank you for saying that. I guess hes not really into me anyway. So its fine. Don’t worry about it.” She shrugs

“I promise I will not do anything with him.” I offer.

“its ok if you do honestly. It good that this bandaid was ripped off sooner rather then later. It would’ve definetly hurt much more.” She shrugs it off. 

“do you still feel like to have that movie night today?” gabi asks “We both totally understand if you don’t” I nod in agreement with her. 

“I can text him not to come. I don’t feel very well anyway. I bet he might not be the best either.”

“I mean, we can still be friends. He geniualy seems like a nice guy, just not interested in me like that. So that’s ok. We can still hang out.” She adds, even though with a sad look on her face. 

I give her a hug laying down on top of her. “Are we good then? I was honestly worried that you would be mad at me”

“We are good, don’t worry” she hugs me back laughing “now get off, you are smashing me” she taps my back and grunts. 

With a smile I lay back down between them. Pulling my own phone out of my pocket. 

My heart races as I see the message I received not too long ago. I gasp and both of them immediately look to find out what cause such a reaction. I spring up and scratch my eyes. 

Gabi sitting next to me and pulling my phone out of my hand reading the text out loud. 

 “Good morning! I was wondering if you are up for coffee? I know a place nearby that is quite good”

She slaps my arm. “why are you not up yet!? Go get ready!” motioning me to hurry up.

“Gabi I feel like death has come for me this morning…. I don’t know If I have the energy to go out right now”

“Girl I don’t care, you are still breathing. Go brush your teeth and change.” She says giving a fake smile. “NOW!”

I look to Eli for support but she just shrugs and goes back to being busy with her phone. 

“plus…” she says with her evil grin  “I already texted him yes.” She shows me the phone “he says he will be here in 10 to pick you up” 

My eyes go wide and yank the phone out of her hand. Reading back the messages. She really did send those messages. Oh my god.

“Im going to kill you” I say under my breath

“Well, better be after you get ready. Chop chop” she claps her hands. 

I immediately get up and rush back to my room trying to fix something else to wear. I exchange the black fluff sweater for a hoodie and try to fix the eye liner from last night that makes me look more like a panda than human. 

Once I think that is good enough I quickly brush my teeth and rush to the door to put on a pair of shoes and leave the house. My keys still in the pocket of my jacket from last night is a blessing. If I rush more then this I think I might be sick. I take a deep breath and get my composure back, taking it easy to reach outside. 

I see Yoongi waiting outside the apartment with his phone in his hand. 

“Hey stranger” I say leaving the building. He looks up and gives a small smile. 

“Was about to text you” he shakes his phone and quickly puts back in his pocket.  

It was a cold day but it was sunny, making it a more pleasureble temperature. The perfect day to not have a hungover. But here I was. 

The walk to the café is pleasant. Indeed its not far from my place and the place looks quite cozy. It full of books and it leads to a nice garden. We find a place at a corner all the way at the end of the place overlooking the garden that must be beautiful during spring and summer. The café was quite busy having breakfast and chitchatting. The atmosphere was defintely inviting to stay hours on end. 

“What is your poison?” he asks me before sitting down

“Honestly, a latte would be a killer right now.” I say following it with a quick thanks.

A few moments later he comes back with a tray with more stuff then I thought he would bring. He places my latte in front of me. 

“I was not sure what you would like right now, but I also got a strawberry short cake. Its yours if you like it.” He takes the iced americano from the tray and the chocolate muffin. 

The cake even though, simple looked perfect. Layers of cake, cream and straberries making the slice very appealing. 

I bite my lip before removing the little plate from the tray giving him a smile “Its actually my absolute favorite. Thank you!” which I only receive a small grin in return. 

“So what have you been up to this weekend?” I ask him between bites of the heavenly cake.

“Nothing much.  I’ve spent most of the night busy trying to fix this track I started to make, other then that nothing much more exciting.” He counters.

“Yeah I wish…” I say sighing getting lost in thought from last night. My heart rushing at the thought of Jungkook. No, I tell myself. Nothing can happen. Even after Eli said it was fine. 

“Rough night for you too?” He asks taking me back to reality.

“I swear I’m never drinking again” and rest my head on my hand. He chuckles 

“Yeah JK said you guys were quite drunk” he says casually. But I almost choke on my hot drink 

“Oh I didn’t know you were friends?” I ask him trying to sound casual but probably failing miserably. 

“yeah we are in the same friend group. Well, that and we all share a house. We’ve all known eachother for some years now.” he says taking his attention back to his half eaten muffin. 

I hope he didn’t see my absolute shocked face. But I honestly don’t think I’ll ever be that lucky. Great. Of course they were friends. Did JungKook say anything else to him? Was this why he was being friendly to me? 

“Ah that’s nice…” which is all I can gather to say. He just nods. 

After some small talk and finishing our food the place seem it got busier, with people coming for brunch. The headache still brewing in my brain not giving me pantience, I pinch the bridge of my nose. 

Yoongi seems to notice “ Hey are you feeling ok?”

“Not really” there is no use in lying right now “To be honest I have the worse hungover.”

“No worries we can hang out more on another day”

“I mean, do you want to come over?” I blurt out as we leave the place “Yesterday night, Gabi, Eli and Kook set up to have a movie chill day, I guess.” Now it was his turn to seem bothered. The frown quickly dissolved from his face as it foes back to its neutral face. 

“What are you guys watching?” He asks

“Honestly, I don’t know… If it were by me I would stay hidden under my blankets and nap the entire afternoon.” I say to him “and I’m not even sure if he will show up, since I guess he also drank a lot last night.” 

“Oh, he will” he quickly replies but before I can ask what he means we reach the apartmetn building again. 

I arch an eyebrow at him after unlocking the door as in question “So are you coming or not?” Looking over my shoulder with the door open.

He doesn’t take long to react, following me back into the building. With a shy smile, I lead the way to the apartment in silence. 

The living room is thankfully empty. Perfect. We sit next to eachother on the couch, and decide that the best thing for hungover cure is to watch random youtube videos. The late morning and afternoon passes fast, we left it to fate to decide what to watch, meaning the suggested tab. And after laughing over funny cats compilations, radom travel vlogs and deciding that Japan is should be everyones number one country in their bucketlist, Gabi comes out of her room walking loudly as if to annouce her arrivel and sporting a grin. 

“Sorry, but you were not responding your texts” she smiles at me “Just to let you know JungKook is on his way, he just called me. By the way very nice to meet you! I’m Gabi” She makes her way to give him a small hug that takes him by surprise. His wide eyes looking over her shoulder in search for help, but all he got was a small chuckle. 

Eli doesn’t take long to come to the living room, introducing herself too but this far with just a wave from her hand and a head nod. As if in cue with Eli sitting down, the doorbell rings. Gabi excitingly hops to the door to open it.  On the other side, wearing some loose jeans and a long sleeve, was jungkook holding a tub of ice cream. Gabi is quick to give him a hug and his smile turns into a surprised look when he notices Yoongi in the living room. 

“Let me put this in the freezer” Gabi takes out the ice cream from JungKooks hands and hops back to the kitchen, meanwhile JungKook greets briefly Yoongi and takes a seat on the empty corner of the couch. Trying to avoid much eye contact with either of us. 

“Weren’t you guys all super drunk yesterday?” Yoongi asked to nobody in particular

“Yup” JungKook replies first

“Is she always like that?” He asks again pointing to where Gabi disapeared. Which gets us all agreeing at the same time 

“She says her superpower is to not get hungover” I add while Gabi gets back to the living room.

“ All righty! Super fun!” She drops the small bowl of snacks at the centre table “I guess you guys know eachother?” she asks looking between JungKook and Yoongi. 

“Yeah we are friends for a few years and we live together now that he is also is studying here” Yoongi replies giving a small grin to Jungkook who only smiles back in return, relaxing a bit more on the chair

“Great! So what do you guys feel like watching?”

The debate gets intense when Eli says she would like to watch a romcom and Yoongi suggests a new spy movie that just come out. Gabi sugests a Disney movie that gets quickly shut down by both Eli and Yoongi. For me, I honestly couldn’t care less about what we watch. Both me and Jungkook are watching the heated argument and when we lock eyes we both give a quiet laugh at the situation that we find ourselves in. 

At the end, since it was hard to everyone accept the same movie, we ended up doing a quiz, which resulted in us watching both of the DeadPool movies. The entire time Eli was disgusted and just like Gabi was quick to be on her phone. Yoongi, JungKook and I would laugh and snort at the terrible jokes made throughout.  When the movies were finally over, Eli bids her farewells earning a pout from Gabi. Shortly after both the boys also leave together. They were definetly were good company, I think to myself. Even though it is a bit strange to have all that tension in the room in the beginning. 

Once I start tidying up the living room I notice Gabi just staring with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, waiting to be acknoledged. 

I roll my eyes and say my own good night and leave her. I definetly don’t wanna talk about it whatever she thinks we need to talk about. 

Classes the next day are boring, and I cannot wait for this day to be over. Unfortunately, even though we are on the same course, Gabi and Eli are on different schedules then mine, leaving me to suffer by myself. 

Lunch time couldn’t come fast enough. Lunch at school was quite fun. The food was made by the first years of our course and managed by the third years. In their semester they learn how to operate different departments and the third years how to run different outlets. After settling for a deliciously smelling creamy pasta, I spot Gabi and Eli searching for a spot to sit. 

A hand shoots up and JungKook calls out for Gabi, which leads to us three sitting at his table with his friends. Jin and Taehyung are also there. I sit next to Taehyung, Gabi and Eli on the opposite side next to Jungkook and Jin. 

Suddenly someone drops on the seat next to mine “You know, we are so hurt that we were not invited to your movie night yesterday.” I look to the person next to me, only to find Jimin pouting. 

“The fact that Yoongi was there, makes it hurt even more” Jin says elbowing Gabi. 

“Hey its not my fault” she says “Shes the one who invited him” motioning to me with her head while taking a bit of her sandwich. 

Her call out earned some smirks from the others on the table except Jungkook who, normally is very talkative, staring at his own plate in silence. 

I roll my eyes “It’s not like that.” Which only provokes a snort from taehyung. “Well if you all are so butt hurt, feel free to also join next time.” I try to ignore but my phone buzzes with a new notification. 

JIMIN added you to a new group .

I roll my eyes but honestly finding it quite fun. I miss having the chaos of my friend group from back home, and I’m eager to create these new friendships here. 

 “Ok so next movie night is tomorrow at your place right?” Jimin asks cocking his head at me.

“You cannot just invite yourself” I say trying to shrug him off.

“Though luck” He says “I just did, sweetheart” JungKook laughs at the audacity of his friend.

“Can we please watch something else then?” Eli is the one to say now “Like some romantic comedy or even a Disney movie..” she tries.

“Yes!” Jimin jumps from his seat earning from me a side eye.

All of our phone’s buzz at once with a notification

Yoongi:  ? 

Jimin: Tomorrow movie night at Gabi and YN’s place

Jimin: Presence is mandatory. 

“Don’t mind him” Taehyung says lower to me “If you guys don’t feel like it just tell him off” he shrugs, clearly his friends energy is something that sometimes needs to be ignored. Well, at this point, I can relate, since Gabi’s energy is much the same. 

When I look back to them Gabi and Jimin are excitedly making plans about what we should eat and watch. Both matching each other’s energy, with Jin, Jungkook and Eli, casually adding or removing things from their plan. 

Here we go, I think to myself.  

Indeed, Gabi and Jimin are the on the same side of the coin. Their similarities don’t end at their energy to make plans with their friends. They burst out singing, dancing or their new favorite activity: bother each other. 

It has almost been a week since the last movie night with all of them, and at this point Jimin is set in making this a tradition. Every Sunday, everyone gathers to watch a movie. The first time we all got together, was a bit strange. All of them showed up. Even Yoongi, who Jimin kept teasing that apparently never leaves his house during the week. The teasing earned him a flick on the forehead earlier in the day. 

JungKook also back down on his flirting since the Beach Incident. Even though the way we held hands keeps finding its way back to my thoughts. Eli also seems to be over her crush on JK since apparently, she and Gabi saw him with another girl on last night, at a bar. Good for him, I guess. 

I told myself that I would only let myself go out on weekends as I can just relax for the next couple of days, and that is how I managed to drag myself to this sports bar.

The same way Jimin has the same traits as Gabi, he also is earning a spot closer to me. Gabi swears she is not jealous of him stealing her spotlight, but that just adds fuel to his bickering. Which is exactly what is happening right now. 

“I already told you to drop it Jimin. I - ” she then points to herself in a very dramatic way  “am the best friend. You just arrived at the train and wants to sit at the window. I think not” 

I roll my eyes “Or…. Hear me out….” I add like it’s a secret  “We could all be best friends” I say with a fake smile

“No” they add in unison. Giving each other a side eye when they realize they said it together. 

“Yeah, I will go get another shot” I say promptly getting up. 

“I will go get it for you bestie” Gabis shoots up

“Sit” I say in a serious tone, and she immediately falls back to her chair with a pout. 

The sports bar that we chose to spent Friday evening was not at all crowded. Jin suggested that we all get together at this sports bar close to campus as there were multiple matches they were interested in watching. Of course, most of them were late. The bar was actually quite cozy. The walls were nicely decorated, big TV’s divided the space with all sorts of sports paraphernalia. There was also a pool table, a tarts board and next to it sitting corner with brown leather couches, where we decided to wait for the rest. 

As soon as I reach the bar, and lean against it, the bartender, a friendly-looking guy with a neatly trimmed beard, approaches with a smile.

"What can I get for you?" he asks, wiping down the counter.

"3 shots of tequila, please," I reply, glancing back at Gabi and Jimin, who are now engaged in a heated debate about who knows me better. Their antics bring a smile to my face.

As the bartender prepares my drink, I notice as familiar faces are entering the bar and make their way casually to the couches in the back. The bartender hands me the shots, and I nod my thanks and quickly pay before making my way back to our corner. As I approach, I catch snippets of conversation.

“Now, this is what im talking about!” Jimin eagerly takes the second shot from my hand and passes to Gabi. 

“and where is our shot?” Jin asks with an eyebrow raised. 

“This is their reward for arriving on time and hello to you too” I say and clink my glass with theirs before downing the strong drink while making a face. Gabi acts like she just had a shot of water. I honestly don’t know what type of mutant that she is. 

We all settle into a comfortable rhythm of conversation and laughter, As the night progresses, the sports games fade into the background, and the focus shifts entirely to our group. We play a few rounds of pool, Jimin and JungKook teaming up against Gabi and me. Gabi’s competitive streak comes out in full force, and we end up winning by a narrow margin, much to Jimin’s mock dismay.

“Okay, okay, you win this round,” Jimin concedes, throwing his hands up in defeat. “But next time, we’re definitely taking you down.”

“Dream on,” Gabi retorts, a triumphant grin on her face.

Eventually, we all go back to being around the couches and we are slightly buzzed from the drinks we had for the last hour or so. The conversation turns to future plans, ideas for the next movie night, and upcoming events on campus.

Just as we’re about to decide on the final plans for our next gathering, the door to the bar swings open again, and a familiar figure steps in.

“Well, now this is going to be interesting” Jimin settles back in the couch putting one arm around my shoulder and we all turn to see who just entered the bar. 

It’s Yoongi, and he’s not alone. He’s with a girl I’ve never seen before, her arm casually linked with his. She has this dumb smile splattered across her face and he has his usual unbothered look. They head toward the couches where our group is sitting. I feel an unexpected knot tighten in my stomach.

“Yoongi, who’s your friend?” Jin asks, his eyes twinkling with curiosity as our friend aproaching. 

“This is Mina,” Yoongi introduces her with a small smile. “We met at the record store a few days ago.”

Mina waves shyly, and the group greets her warmly. I try to force a smile, but it feels more like a grimace. It’s unlike Yoongi to bring someone new into the group, and I can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy seeing him with her.

 “I was starting to think you’d ditch us for another quiet night in.” Jimin is the one to talk now, with a playfull smirk on his lips and I know that he loves poking at people. 

Yoongi chuckles. “Not this time. Besides, I’ve been out all day. Might as well end it with some good company.” He says looking at me with an intense gaze. 

Gabi and Jimin resume their playful banter, and while everyone else seems to be taken with Mina, I can’t shake my irritation. She laughs at all the right moments, shares interesting stories, and fits in seamlessly, which only makes me feel worse. My eyes keep drifting back to Yoongi and Mina, and every time she leans and touches him again and againa, I feel like rolling my eyes until its stuck in the back of my head. 

It seems that JungKook notices my distraction and asks the group if anyone wants more drinks. Everyone states what they are drinking, with a quick thanks, and goes back to the conversation with Mina, who is now sharing about a new exhibition coming to town next week.

“Hey, can you help me out with the drinks?” Jungkook asks closer to me as he reaches out a hand to pull me from Jimin's side.

We reach the bar, and he is quick to order everyone's drinks. I honestly don’t know how he managed to keep up with so many different orders.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks quietly, concern evident in his eyes.

“Yeah, just tired,” I lie, offering a weak smile.

He doesn’t seem convinced but lets it drop. The conversation continues at the corner of the bar, but I honestly don’t really feel like listening. Instead, I’m focused on Yoongi and Mina, trying to decipher their relationship. Are they just friends? Is there something more? My thoughts spiral, making it hard to concentrate on anything else. Mina’s laughter rings out again, and it grates on my nerves. I try to push the feeling down, reminding myself that Yoongi is just a friend. I can’t assume that any guy who is remotely nice is into me.

Mina's drink is the last one to be poured. When the bartender finishes pouring her stupid rose wine, I turn to the bartender and add to the order, “Can I actually also have another shot?” I ask him.

“Make it two,” Jungkook quickly adds, drawing closer to me. “If you’re tired, that will knock you right out, sweetheart.”

I take my glass and clink it against Jungkook’s, and I look back at the others sitting. Yoongi catches my eye, and I lift my drink in cheer to him with a ghost of a smile on my lips, before downing it without making a face this time. The burning is welcomed by my throat.

I help Jungkook bring back the cups on a tray, handing them to each of their owners, and plop down back next to Jimin, who barely notices me as he now starts an argument with Jin over which one is the best video game of all time.

Just as I’m about to excuse myself for some fresh air, Yoongi catches my eye. There’s something unreadable in his expression, and for a moment, I wonder if he can sense my unease. He leans over to say something to Mina, and before he can get up, Jk, stands up first. “Going out for a smoke” he announces “anyone care to join?” he asks generally but his playfull eyes fall on mine. 

“yeah lets go!” Gabi jumps up, and follows Jk. I also get up to follow them, maybe some fresh _smokey_ air will help me clear my head, of this unreasenable dislike of Mina, and improve my mood. I cannot be like this the entire night. I need to get it together, and fast.

As I was about to pass him, I feel a warm hand wrap around my wrist, stopping me. “I thought you didn’t smoke?” he says more in a statement then a questioning tone. 

“I don’t. Just going to make them company” I brush it off.

The frown that crosses his face comes as fast as it goes, and I believe that if I blinked I would have missed it. Mina enthusiastically, turns to him to ask his opinion on some music, that now she was discussing with Jimin, 

“You coming, sweetheart?” Jk asks standing not too far, as Gabi is distractedly putting on her coat. Yoongi lets go of my hand and turns to give her attention.

Outside, the air is chilly thanks to our proximity to the beach. Gabi and Jungkook are already chatting animatedly, the glow of their cigarettes illuminating their faces.  Gabi enthusiastically telling stories of her life back in her home country and  how she got so high once that she hallucinated she was in Paris. Our laughter echoes across the empty street.

Gabi apparently was a quick smoker as she was already taking the last drag of her cigarrate, shivering with the cold. “as much as I love your company guys, I think I lost all sensation to my extremities.” She states, a shiver clearly running through her. I chuckle as shes quickly makes her way back inside. 

JungKook nudges me playfully. “Come on, sweetheart,” he says, his breath visible in the cool night air. “Let’s join the smokers’ club.” He holds a laugh raising his eyebrows. I roll my eyes at his remark. 

“Nah, thanks” I brush him off. “I mean… good for you” he says, taking another drag. “this shit kills”

I chuckle. At least he knows. Jungkook is talking about one of our teachers, and how he doesn’t know how he will pass her exams if the classes continue being this boring. 

“Jungkook, its ethics. How did you expect it to be?”I ask with a small laugh,  but my eyes inevitably drift back to Yoongi and Mina. They’re sitting close, their shoulders almost touching, and I can’t help but wonder what they share. I look back at Jk, who is tossing his finished cigarate away, and I expect him to hush us inside. Instead, he leans against the brick wall, exhaling the last of the smoke. “You know,” he says, “sometimes it’s hard to figure people out.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

He nods toward Yoongi and Mina. “Take them, for instance. Are they just friends? Or is there something more?”

I sigh. “I wish I knew.”

JungKook chuckles. “Life’s full of mysteries, isn’t it? Like why Jin insists on wearing mismatched socks or why Jimin thinks he’s the world’s best dancer.”

I laugh, grateful for the distraction. “And why Eli can’t resist buying every cute stationery item she sees.”

“Exactly.” JungKook steps closer. “But sometimes, the answers surprise us. Maybe tonight will be one of those nights.” He winks and nudges me 

As we go back inside, to the comforting warmth of the bar I remind myself that Yoongi is just a friend—a complicated, enigmatic friend. 

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Somebody To Love - Part 6

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Here we have it everyone! I hope you enjoy. This part includes Eddie's addict brain trying to trip him up, so if that might be a trigger for you, keep yourself safe.

Eddie was six months clean by the time Wayne flew back to Indiana. He would have flown back sooner, around the four month mark but temptation had reared its ugly head and Eddie broke the lock on his bathroom door, intentionally trapping himself inside and away when he’d found one stray pill under the rug in his studio space. 

He was alone.

No one was home. 

No one would be home for hours. 

Wayne was halfway across the city, Steve was at his own home, Chrissy was at a modelling gig, the boys were with their families.

It was a terrible, opportunistic coincidence.

The pill was tiny and white, covered in floor dirt and bits of hair, but it would go down easy enough. He’d be able to dry swallow it in less than a second. It was small enough. He could just take it and he’d probably pass for sober by the time they came back.

He had it in his hand. 

No one would know.

No one would ever know.

His hand was completely frozen, almost on another plane of existence. He couldn’t move. A part of him was banging against the cage doors telling him to just take it. He’d taken worse things before, this would be nothing. He was strong enough now to not spiral again. This was just one, not nearly the worst thing he’d ever done.

He’d promised to be good and he had been good. So why couldn’t he have this one thing?

Another part of him was firmly trying to keep the cage locked.

Think of Wayne.

Think of the boys.

Think of Chrissy.

Think of Steve.

Why should they get to judge him for making decisions about his own body, the beast cried out. He was his own person, this was his own life, who the fuck were they to try and make him do these things, take it!

They didn’t make him do anything. He made that decision on his own. They were supporting him through his own decision. Not forcing him to do anything. They were supporting him. He said he’d change. He promised.

Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Eds.

The beast repeated Steve’s words back to him, twisting and poisoning them. Steve didn’t think he could do this anyway so why was he bothering?

No.

No!

No!

Eddie bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood and the pain shocked him into action.

He threw the pill across the room. 

He didn’t know where it landed, he didn’t want to know. 

He’d run up the stairs as fast as he could, putting as much physical distance in between himself and that fucking pill as it was possible to do.

And he’d called Wayne, who’d called Steve.

It was maybe an hour later when the bathroom door was finally broken down and Wayne crawled into the empty tub with him and just held him while he wept quietly into his chest.

Steve appeared in the doorway some time later, letting him know it was gone and that Eddie would be spending a few nights with him and Robin while professionals came in to clear the house top to bottom, just in case.

Because there was a service for that apparently.

This was LA after all. 

Of course there was a service dedicated to quietly, covertly and methodically going through luxury houses to remove every last trace of temptation.

Of course there was.

It was another thing entirely to fully realise just where he’d be staying. 

Staying with Steve wasn’t an issue, they practically lived together whenever they went on tour anyway. They knew all of each other's habits, their quirks, their weird rituals. And he’d been to Steve’s house plenty of times so it wasn’t that either.

It was having to live in the space of one Robin Buckley. 

Steve’s Chrissy. 

He hadn’t met her very often, they just never tended to cross paths but whenever they did, Eddie got the distinct impression that she really, really didn’t like him. 

Though if he was in Robin’s position, watching everything he’d ever put Steve through… He probably wouldn’t like himself much either.

Steve had been running interference on them for two whole days, trying to stop Robin’s glares and snappy comments and trying to stop Eddie from retaliating too dramatically. Because if it’s one thing Eddie was terrible at, one major, major character flaw he had, it was holding his tongue around someone who did not like him.

But Steve had to leave them alone eventually. 

He was half way out the front door, begging the two of them not to murder each other while he was gone.

Robin crossed her arms and shot daggers in Eddie’s direction. “Non prometto niente.”

“Ti imploro.” Steve checked his watch again before raising his eyes back to Robin.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Now you two are just being rude.”

“Cazzo.” She spat at him.

“Robin!” Steve rubbed at his temples before pointing at her. “Play. Nice.” Without another word he slammed the door behind him, the sound echoing around them as they stood on opposite sides of the open plan house, like it was high noon in one of Wayne’s old westerns.

“Okay. Let's get it all out, Buckley now that the parent is gone." Eddie spread his arms out in front of him. "What precisely is your fucking issue with me?”

“My fucking issue is that I don’t like you,” Robin snapped, “that’s my fucking issue.”

"I'm gonna need you to be more specific than that,” Eddie snapped right back, “plenty of people don't like me."

"Shocking." She widened her eyes in mock surprise.

He gave her the middle finger. "Is it just the Steve thing or are there other reasons?"

She scoffed. "There's no 'just' with what you did to him."

"You can't be stupid enough to think that I meant it like that."

"Jesus you're a real charmer aren't you?"

“I get it, I was a shitty person, to Steve especially, but-”

“No!” She shouted, cutting her hand through the air. “You don’t fucking get it. You really don’t fucking get it, Munson, because you weren’t there. You have no idea what all kinds of hell you put that man through for years, but I do. I was there for it all.”

“Of course I have no idea!” He threw his hands up. “How could I possibly have known?!”

“How could you possibly not have known?! Everyone knew how he felt and all you ever did was rub it in his face-”

“I didn’t rub anything! I wouldn’t have if I’d known but I didn’t! How the hell was I supposed to know?!”

“Are you blind?!” They had taken a few steps closer but the couch was still between them. Eddie guessed it was the only thing stopping her from tearing into him with her teeth. “You need something like that spelled out to you?!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is that not a reasonable request? To be told what someone’s feeling with grown-up words and not have to navigate a minefield of guessing what’s going on in their head?” His legs bumping against the couch was the only indicator to him that he’d moved closer. “How was I supposed to know I needed to look deeper? Am I supposed to go around examining everyone’s motivations for a deeper meaning now? Try to see into their heads rather than trust the things they tell me? That makes no sense! I’m not fucking psychic, why am I expected to be? You know as well as I do that he hid this from me. He never told me!”

“Don’t you put this on him. Don’t you dare-!” She was leaning over the back of the couch now to jab him in the chest.

“I’m not!” He had his hands gripping in his hair by the scalp and he could feel the lump in his throat but he refused to cry in front of her. “But tell me I’m wrong, Buckley. Go on! Tell me I’m not making sense right now!”

Robin huffed. “You’re wrong and you’re not making sense right now.” There wasn’t much conviction behind it. She pulled her finger back from his chest and crossed her arms with a scowl. “Maybe if you weren’t so fucked up on everything all the time-”

“Oh, spare me. Don’t start on the puritan talk just because you know I’m right-”

“I am not-!”

“Okay, fine!” 

He ripped his hands out of his hair and felt like everything inside him was crumbling before he could stop it. He’d done everything he could, he’d kicked the drugs, he kicked the drink, he hadn’t had any sex since the ‘Sucker’ video, he was letting Steve decide how fast they moved, even when they moved and where to… what else was he supposed to do? He was at the end of his fucking rope. 

“Let’s examine that then, shall we? Do you think that if I knew that I had someone in my corner in that way, that I had someone I could come home to or- or be there with me in my lowest moments, that could help take the pressure off, that I felt safe with… do you think I wouldn’t have delighted in having a steady fucking thing for the hardest years of my life? People don’t do the amount of shit that I’ve done because they’re fucking happy, Robin!”

He turned his back on her to collapse down on the couch with his head in his hands, trying to force his tears to retreat. His whole body felt weak, like he’d been wrung out and he really hoped she didn’t take the opportunity to crack him over the back of the head with something.

The only thing that could be heard in the ringing silence of the house was his own heavy breathing as he tried to keep his emotions under control.

A weight settled down next to him and he thanked his lucky stars he was able to stop from flinching. He didn’t want to look up, the tears clinging to his waterline that he hadn’t managed to fight back would be undeniable, but as the quiet continued to extend around them he couldn’t ignore it.

Robin wasn’t looking at him, thank god. She was curled up as far away from him as she could get with her back to the couch arm, her knees pulled up against her and she was scowling in the direction of the tv.

It must have been nearly a full minute later when she spoke. In that time Eddie had to pull the bottom of his t-shirt up to wipe at his eyes and sniffle everything back and he was fully prepared to execute a frosty retreat to the guest room he’d been using.

“Fine.” Robin bit out. When Eddie looked over, she cut her eyes in his direction but quickly averted them again.

“Fine, what?” He cringed at the thickness in his own voice. He didn’t even have the energy to bite back, he just sounded petulant.

“Fine, you’re a miserable fuck.”

He scoffed. “Great. Thanks for your input.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“You didn’t want to finish, you left a dramatic pause in there on purpose.”

Her frown only got deeper. “Fine, you’re a miserable fuck but you’re not wrong.” She raised her hand to her mouth and started to pick at some dry skin on her lip. “It’s not on you to read minds.”

Eddie nodded. 

The tv wasn’t even on but she was still staring at it like it was. After another few moments of silence he turned, mirroring her position. “I am trying, Robin. Ever since it properly hit me I’ve been trying.”

“I know.” She sighed heavily, exasperated and slumped lower into the couch. “So he’s been telling me. And to be honest, I can see it.” She glanced back at him again. “Last time I saw you before this you looked like some strung out, coked up skeleton. Now you look,” she waved her hand around in his direction, “like you’ve got actual blood in your veins and not just Xanax and vodka. I just wish Steve didn’t need to get stepped on for you to get there.”

“I wasn’t stepping on him on purpose. If I’d have known… all of this would have happened a lot sooner.”

“Yeah.” She heaved herself up from the couch and grabbed the remote. “Put on a movie. I’d like to keep this little stalemate of ours going at least until Steve gets back. Might help him relax a little bit. Maybe not get a coronary. But pick well,” she threw herself back down and stared him dead in the eye, “don’t make me hate you again.”

Eddie didn’t end up picking a movie, he ended up picking a tv show but either way it ended up being a winner because Sense8 was always a winner. At least that was until it actually started because…

“This show is so fucking horny, man.”

Eddie just shrugged. “It’s a good show.”

“And what are you gonna do if Steve walks in while you’re watching two men fucking on tv?”

Eddie's heart stopped and his face flooded. It wasn’t that he thought Steve would judge him or it would set their progress back or whatever. It was that Steve would be standing there while very, very, super-duper, gay, gay, gay shit was happening in front of his eyes.

Robin snickered next to him just as the key sounded in the lock and a shout of “No one better be dead!” preceded Steve’s entrance.

The phone nearly flew out of Eddie’s hand as he made a frantic scramble to skipskipskip.

Steve stopped dead at the sight of the two of them sitting on the couch, not touching but also not hissing at each other like feral cats. Eddie with what was probably a red face and his phone clutched tight in his hand while Robin tried her best to hide her smile.

“What’s going on here?” Steve asked, wary eyes bouncing between them.

“Nothing!” They both answered at the same time with vastly different inflections. Robin sounded light and jovial while Eddie squeaked, trying to conceal his panic.

“Right…” Steve gave them both a final look before he turned towards the kitchen. “Whatever happened here, I don’t want to know. I’m just glad the two of you haven’t ripped each other's hair out.”

Once he had completely disappeared around the corner Eddie turned his glaring eyes to Robin who had the biggest shit-eating grin on her face.

“You were no help.”

“Yeah? Get used to it.”

That fucking song wouldn’t leave his head and he didn’t know why.

Well that was a fucking lie.

Eddie knew exactly why this fucking song wouldn’t leave him alone. 

Freddie fucking Mercury was haunting him from beyond the grave. 

He could almost hear him, see him out of the corner of his eye. Sitting cross legged, an arm across the back of the couch as Eddie strummed on his guitar. That grin on his face. Drawling out “You’ll get it soon, darling.” 

It wasn’t even like it was a hard song to cover. 

On guitar anyway. 

Vocally was a whole different story. If anyone even thought of singing Freddie Mercury's pieces, figures would materialise out of the woodwork advising it was a bad idea. People just didn’t cover Queen. It was too difficult to do.

Freddie had a vocal range almost unmatched. He could switch keys effortlessly and often. He was iconic. Still is iconic. And almost everyone who had tried wasn't able to match up to the legend.

God, why was he doing this to himself?

A weight dipped the couch cushion next to him and Eddie nearly jumped out of his skin, almost firing his guitar across the room, convinced for half a second that Freddie Fucking Mercury had actually manifested next to him.

But the arm that was now across the back of the couch wasn't Freddie's.

"Jesus, Steve." Eddie clutched at his chest. "Warn a guy."

"You seemed very far away." Steve leaned his head against his hand with a small smile on his face. He was so pretty.

"Not that far.” Eddie shrugged. “Just a dimension or two."

“Seems pretty far.”

“Freddie’s just haunting me is all.” He said as he got up to place his guitar back in her stand along the wall with her sisters, throwing himself back down on the couch with an oof.

“Oh, tell him hi from me then.” Steve reached down, grasping Eddie under the knees and pulling his legs into his lap, causing Eddie to slip down the arm of the couch as his body was pulled forward, leaving only his head propped up at what must have been an incredibly unflattering angle.

“You could’ve just asked.” Eddie wrenched himself up to a sitting position, planting his arms behind him and refusing to think about the fact that if he wiggled his way forward just a little more he’d be pressed right up against Steve, fully in his lap. 

As it was, the backs of Eddie’s thighs were pressed against Steve’s and that was enough to kick his heart up a few notches.

Steve looked down at his legs, plucking at an old cigarette burn in the knee of Eddie’s sweatpants. They were good pants despite the hole. Soft and comfy and he did really mean to stitch it up but he kept getting distracted and then suddenly it was five years later and that same burn kept looking at him.

“You’re doing really well, you know.” Steve said in a quiet voice, staring at Eddie’s knees like they contained the answers to the universe.

Eddie tipped his head back until it hung between his shoulders and he groaned at the ceiling. “The guitar part is easy. It’s the vocals that are-”

“No,” Steve squeezed his knee, “no I don’t mean that, I mean your… your self improvement. Your getting healthy. Your-”

“Oh my god.” Eddie snapped his head back up, staring at Steve with wide hopeful eyes while his breathing got shallower. Steve had a light blush across his cheeks and was continuing to keep eye contact with the knees in front of him. “Is it happening, like is it really happening? Are you giving me a chance, are you-”

“Eddie.” Steve admonished, trying to pull his mouth into a scowl but his face was getting redder and the corner of his lips were lifting up of their own volition. “How are you such a pain in the ass? I had a whole speech planned about all the hard work you’ve put in and how dedicated you’ve been and how rough it’s all been for you but you’ve still persevered-”

“Right, sorry!” Eddie wanted to wave his hands in front of him but they were the only thing keeping him upright so he just nodded like a lunatic. “Sorry! Go ahead.”

Steve rolled his eyes and scoffed but was smiling now. “I can’t just go ahead. Especially now. I was gonna come down here and act all calm and cool and suave and deliver this great speech about how much it’s meant that you did all of this for me. For me?” Steve huffed and pinched his nose, his voice coming out a little shakier than before. “People don’t do things like this for me. And you stuck it out. You’ve kept going even during the hard days and there’ve been some really hard days. I know. I’ve seen them but you kept going and I’m so proud of you. Eddie, I’m so fucking proud. So yeah. I had a whole plan.”

Steve finally looked at him, his eyes were shining and his cheeks were still red but he was managing to pull himself back into his vaguely bitchy and disapproving façade that they both knew was fake but if Steve needed it to give him some strength Eddie would give it to him. 

Eddie would give him everything.

“I had to call Robin twice to hype me up and it still took me a half an hour to get down the stairs. Then I do come down the stairs and you’re sitting there, looking like that." Eddie glanced down at himself. 

Like what? He was in ratty tatty sweatpants and an old dark henley that might have originally belonged to Steve but he honestly couldn’t remember. He was in fuzzy socks and his hair looked like a bird's nest because he just wanted it washed and couldn’t be bothered to go though the whole curly girl thing Chrissy and Robin were trying to push him into. 

He just looked like Eddie.

“And you’re playing that song, trying to sing that song, my song and I couldn’t-” Steve clenched his eyes closed again, reaching his hand out blindly and Eddie shot forward, snatching Steve’s hand up in his own, leaning towards Steve so his centre of gravity was no longer behind him and holding Steve’s hand tight to his chest.

Steve would be able to feel Eddie’s runaway heart under his ribs but he didn’t care. In fact he hoped he could. He hoped it would let Steve know he wasn’t the only one who was scared out of his mind right now.

“Do you-” Steve gulped, opening his eyes again. “Do you still-”

“Yes, I still. I very still.” Eddie squeezed his hand tighter, pulled it harder into his chest, like he wanted Steve to touch his raw and bloody heart with his bare hands.

“Really? Even now? Even though… even after…?”

“Stevie.” Eddie whispered, heart breaking. “Do you think now that I’m sober I wouldn’t want you anymore?”

When Steve just shrugged Eddie couldn’t help himself. He reached a hand out, brushing his knuckles against Steve’s cheek before thumbing a tear away.

“All of this. Everything has been for you.” Eddie kept his voice low, trying to inject as much love as he could into the tone of his voice while he kept stroking Steve’s cheek. “It’ll continue to be for you as long as I live. Now that I know what I know, I don’t think there’s any going back for me. There hasn’t been for a while. I’ve been miserable for so long, hiding underneath substances and sex and denial that I forgot what it was like to even feel… neutral. I didn't know my own heart and you… you allowed me to be able to feel it again."

“Eddie… d’you- can I- can-”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“Yes.” Steve almost sighed, relaxing like the weight of the world had just been gently lifted from his shoulders. 

“C’mere.” 

Eddie moved his hand from Steve’s cheek, curling his fingers around the back of his neck.

He pulled Steve forward and despite the thundering of his heart in his chest he had only intended it to be a short press of lips, an assurance, a comfort.

As soon as he kissed Steve, Eddie knew for certain that this was it for him. He was done for. He never wanted to kiss anyone else as long as he lived.

He’d never been kissed with so much emotion, with so much feeling. It enveloped his entire body. Any emotions that had previously been attached to kissing, he realised with sudden clarity, were just a general feeling of wild hornyness, crushing on someone, liking someone, being attracted to someone. 

All those were there when kissing Steve but there was so much more.

There was so much love and compassion and it was just so easy. They could have been doing this for years and Eddie found himself already mourning all the time that had previously been lost. He mourned who he used to be, the previous Eddie who had just been kissed out of existence despite his slow death over the last few months. The previous Eddie who’d thought that that life was the best it could ever get.

The poor bastard.

The kiss was wet and not exactly in a sexy way, Steve’s tears mingling between their mouths. Despite how it started, chaste and innocent and assuring, it didn’t stay that way even though Eddie had the best of intentions. 

Steve’s hand was at the back of his head, holding him close, trapping him in the best way as he leaned over him. Eddie felt his knee get batted out of the way and his legs pushed open as Steve settled between them, laying Eddie back on the couch and pressing him down as his tongue bullied its way into his mouth. Steve was well and truly steering this ship and Eddie was just happy to be along for the ride.

If Eddie’s eyes had been open they’d have rolled back in his head.

“Stevie,” Eddie croaked as his neck was being attacked by little nips and sucks that were making it very hard to think, “are you in the right headspace for this?”

Steve paused for a moment before pulling back to shoot him an incredulous look, hovering over him on those strong arms. “You’re asking me if I’m in the right headspace for something maybe sexual? How often have you been in the right headspace when you’ve done sexual things in the past?”

Eddie frowned. “Not very often, which is why I’m asking now.”

The line over Steve’s brow softened and he leaned down to place a kiss against Eddie’s forehead and damn there were those butterflies again.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Eddie shook his head, a little more emphatically than he needed to. “No.”

“Do you want me?”

“I- yes. God, baby, I don’t want anyone else ever again.”

“Okay, good.” Steve leaned down again until he was a breadth away. "Can I continue then?"

So, like…

Eddie hadn't done anything in the last six months besides use his own hand. 

And maybe some toys. 

But he hadn't had a good fuck, hadn't had a good suck in six months after having multiple of each every week for years. In hindsight it had all been frighteningly close to some kind of sex addiction.

But still, six months.

That was to say when Eddie nodded and Steve leaned back down with that smirk of his, it was like he knew. 

Knew that when he rolled his hips down like that Eddie was at risk of blowing his load in less than ten seconds.

“Don’t care,” Steve moaned into his mouth, “don’t care if it’s quick. Don’t care. I wanna see.”

And as embarrassing as it was, that’s what did it. 

Steve telling him he wanted to see him. 

Eddie came with a cry, only barely able to coherently get half the man’s name out of his mouth. It took him longer than usual to float back into his body and even then he was still a little fucked out. Six months. He scrambled to stick his hand down Steve’s pants. This he knew. This he could practically do with his eyes closed. It only took a few minutes for Steve to follow with his mouth hanging open and a beautiful little scrunch in his brow.

“Oh shit.” Eddie sunk back into the cushions. “Don’t think I’ve come in my pants since I was sixteen.”

“I’m flattered.” Steve smiled, peppering kiss over his cheeks, his nose, his forehead.

“You should be.” Eddie smiled back, leaning into the easy affection he was being showered with with so much joy.

“Um,” Steve hesitated, still pressing Eddie into the couch with his body weight but up on his elbows, fiddling nervously with his hair, “just so we’re clear on-”

“I’m with you. If you want.” He slung his arms around Steve’s neck. “We can be a thing. In a relationship. Boyfriends. Partners. All of the above. I’m yours for as long as you want me.”

“Hmm.” Steve tried to give a nonchalant shrug. “That could be a very long time.”

“I’m okay with that.” Eddie leaned up, making sure to seal it with a kiss.

Six Months Later

“So… here’s the thing.” Steve wedged himself in behind Eddie, legs on either side and pulling him back against his chest while Eddie tapped away on his game controller, swinging from building to building.

Eddie settled back, allowing his body to relax but keeping his eyes on the screen. “Mhm?”

“You remember the Sucker music video?” Steve nuzzled his nose into Eddie’s hair.

“Ugh.” Eddie couldn’t watch it. It had come out while Steve was on vacation the first time and Eddie hadn’t wanted to look at the guy who’d potentially destroyed one of the most important relationships in his life. 

Nowadays he was almost tempted to send the bitch a fruit basket. Sex with you helped me find love with someone else. Something like that.

“Right, well you know how there wasn’t enough footage for that gory online exclusive cut?”

“A tragedy, really.”

“Yeah. But the label is looking to release something small before you all start writing again, keep interest up and I was talking to the boys-”

“You were plotting with the boys.”

Steve nodded, tightening his arms for just a moment. “I was plotting with the boys and we were thinking why don’t we do some reshoots to get enough footage together and release it?”

Eddie had to pause the game and twist around. “Sweetheart, tell me you are not suggesting we contact whatever the fuck his name was and I go film with him again?”

Steve looked scandalised. “No! Jesus, no. That’s not what I’m suggesting. I’m… well we were thinking that maybe you could film it with… me.”

Eddie turned completely, planting himself over Steve’s lap and grinning down at him. “Oh yeah?” He leaned in, ghosting his lips over Steve’s cheek, coming to a stop right by his ear. “You wanna be my victim, baby?”

“I get bitten by you enough, I might as well-” Steve gasped as Eddie sunk his teeth into his neck, sucking at the skin. “-might as well get paid for it.” He rolled his hips up and any logistical talk of the video shoot completely flew out the window.

Three weeks later and the video had been released. It was filthy, it was disgusting, it was downright sexy even if that fake blood still tasted like shit. 

Though Steve didn’t really have a problem with his face being in the video, he was mostly kept anonymous. 

Quick close up flashes of his open panting mouth before a hand was clapped over it then his neck gushing blood while Eddie practically bathed in the spray. A shot of Steve’s chest as the clothes were ripped from him, a hand tugging harshly at the hair. Then red dripping handprints over his stomach and black tipped fingers pushing his knees apart and Eddie’s hand running through his hair, leaving blood streaked in its wake, were all that was seen of him.

People went fucking wild for it. It broke through to mainstream news, which Corroded Coffin hadn’t managed to do for a while. 

Christian moms were scandalised. 

Conservative men were outraged. 

Social media was thirsty.

And Steve was starting to get offers. 

Even though he wasn’t really identifiable, people in the industry who’s job it was to know these things started sending him offers for modelling jobs or acting jobs. Though Steve had originally not given them a second look, now he was starting to look.

They’d both agreed that ethically Steve couldn’t really continue on as his P.A. anymore. The thought had once scared the everloving shit out of Eddie but now… now it was okay, because Steve was Eddie’s and Eddie was Steve’s.

Two Years Later

God, he loved being on stage. It was such a rush. How had he been doing it in an altered state for so long? 

It was their first tour since all of everything with Steve had happened. 

Nearly a year and a half since he’d had to get a new personal assistant.

Nancy was like some weird mix in between Steve and the other two, Dustin and Max.  Like Steve, she knew how to handle executives and businessmen like she was speaking a second language. She was loyal to a fault. She was small and sweet looking. People didn’t keep their guard up around her. That would be their first mistake. 

There was one very memorable instance where an overly eager and quite frankly stupid paparazzo had managed to sneak onto Eddie’s property. 

It was rumoured that the new up and coming heartthrob of indie rom-coms was allegedly the live-in boyfriend of a controversial metal singer and this idiot was sure he could get the scoop.

What he hadn’t been expecting was Nancy Wheeler in her white frilly blouse and baby blue dress pants popping him on the nose and swinging her sensible heeled foot in between his legs.

It had all been caught on security footage. 

Eddie had the screenshots framed and Nancy now had them hung behind her desk in the office she had in his house. 

Like Dustin and Max, she’d worked with Steve in the past. She was an absolute wizard when it came to organisation, she didn’t treat him like a mythical entity and she could see past the big bad image to the soft squishy human underneath.

She had a bit more trouble articulating things when it came to emotion but her intentions were never bad. 

Though Eddie and Steve didn’t have an employer/employee relationship anymore, the relationship they did have had only blossomed.

Apparently they were sickening to be around, but Eddie couldn’t really find it within himself to care. He loved his boy so why would he hide it when they were amongst friends?

Robin was forced to eat her words soon enough, which Eddie found great satisfaction in, and reminded her of it often, when he’d introduced her to Chrissy.

Those two were just as bad as he and Steve.

Eddie gave his thanks to the crowd and jogged off to the wings where Steve was waiting with a bottle of water that he nearly drowned himself with, trying to swallow it all down in one go.

Steve just rolled his eyes, making sure to stay out of sight of the crowd as he did it. Neither of them really cared if they got caught red handed with each other but if they could avoid the media circus, they would.

Steve wanted to make a name for himself on his own.

“You don’t have to do this, Eds.”

Eddie nodded. “I know.”

“It’s a big risk.” Steve continued with his hands on his hips.

“I know.” He handed the bottle back to Steve. “But I said I'd do it, didn't I?”

“You did, but you can always pull out.”

“Baby, I never pull out.”

“That's a fucking lie.”

It was Eddie’s turn to roll his eyes now. “Just sit back and enjoy the show, sweetheart.”

Steve gave his ass a squeeze. “Always do.”

Eddie pinched his cheek before turning and jogging back out to centre stage amongst the cries of encore from the crowd.

“Alright, alright.” He spoke into the mic. “One more song for you all. Um,” the nerves were coming in hard and fast now as he glanced behind him towards the other members who gave him encouraging nods. 

Well of course they didn’t need to be nervous. 

They weren’t singing the damn thing. 

Eddie turned back to the crowd as a stage hand came out and handed him his guitar. “I gotta be honest with you all, I’m scared shitless of performing this song. You might be wondering what that’s been doing here all this time.”

He pointed over at the piano that had been sitting quietly in a corner, unused for the whole show.

The audience ooohed and cheered.

“Unfortunately I can’t play, but Jeff here is multi-talented.” Jeff handed his guitar off and took his seat at the piano, tapping on a few keys before giving Eddie the thumbs up.

“People get crucified for covering this band. It’s just not done.” There was chattering starting up in the crowd as they started to speculate. “No one can get close to what this man had, but god damn it, there’s someone special out there who I want to do this for. They’re his favourite band and this is his favourite song and based on your reaction I think some of you already know what I’m about to fucking do. Shit.” He sighed into the mic. “This is Her Majesty. Queen.”

Eddie had no hope of being able to improvise or vamp like Freddie once had and he would never even attempt to try. So as the first piano notes played out over the speakers he opened his mouth and started to sing.

They'd practised this song to death. The whole band was adamant that if they were going to do this they were going to do it right. They guys had practised their high backing vocals for weeks. Eddie had rehearsed the song for months.

There was no way he was going to do Freddie dirty.

By the time he’d gotten to Brian May’s guitar solo he was able to move around a little and get a good look at the crowd.

His eyes landed on a mess of long dirty blond hair and he felt his mouth drop open. 

“Holy shit.” He muttered to himself.

Julian beamed up at him, his arms wrapped around a little twink of a man with a shock of black hair wearing a battle vest that if memory served, had definitely belonged to Julian last they’d met.

“Danny?” Eddie mouthed at him.

Julian’s responding nod was elated as he squeezed Danny against him tighter. Danny himself looked completely shell shocked while something was whisper-shouted into his ear over the music.

Eddie wanted to fucking jump for joy.

With a glance back into the wings, he saw Steve muttering to Nancy, gesturing out towards them. When he looked up and caught Eddie’s eye he tilted his head in question.

You wanna bring them back?

Eddie nodded, just barely catching sight of Nancy disappearing off somewhere before he turned back to finish out the song with a bang, sending one last wink Julian’s way before the lights went down.

When he opened the door to his green room, it was to the sight of Robin trying to adjust her top and Chrissy pulling her skirt back down, both red faced and breathing heavily.

“Can’t you two go find a bathroom or a maintenance closet or something? This is my room! I’m supposed to be the one doing sexy things back here.”

“We lost track of time!” Robin said with crossed arms.

Eddie stuck his hands on his hips. “Surely the sudden lack of loud music should have tipped you off that the concert was over?”

“We were distracted.” Chrissy shrugged, looking completely unapologetic.

“Well go be distracted somewhere else, I’ve got guests coming back.”

“Who?” They asked at the same time.

“An old friend.”

Just then the door behind him was opened. 

Nancy gestured Julian through, who had a huge smile on his face, pulling Danny along by the hand who looked like he was about to faint.

Eddie surged forward, catching Julian up in a crushing hug while he laughed.

“You got your man!” He cried, practically bouncing the two of them.

“I got my man!” Julian squeezed back before extricating himself from Eddie’s arms, pulling Danny forward and tucking him in under his arm. “Eddie, this is Danny Aguilar. Danny this-”

“Hi! I- uh… yeah, I um. I know you. I mean I don’t know you. I mean I know who you are…” Danny stuttered out and before Eddie could even say anything, Nancy was at his side with a small smile and a bottle of water that he took with shaking hands.

“It’s really cool to meet you, man. I’ve heard great things.” Eddie smiled at him but that only seemed to freak him out more so he decided to give the guy a break, turning his attention back to Julian who was rubbing small circles on Danny’s back.

“So tell me, how did this happen?” Eddie asked, pointing between the two of them.

“Well,” Julian gave Danny a squeeze while he took a large drink. “It was the rumours about you actually.”

Eddie snorted. “Which ones?”

“The ones about you shacking up with some guy named Steve who may or may not be the same Steve who’s been making a name for himself.” Julian raised a brow at him. “I figured that even if they weren’t true, I’d seen you get your shit together, get sober, get healthy and it made me think I could do that too. Only one life to live, you know?”

“That’s amazing.” Eddie smiled. “I’m so happy for you, man.”

Julian blushed. “Thanks. What about you?” He asked. “If you tell me that it didn’t work out after I said all of that I’m gonna feel like a giant asshole.”

“No, I-” He felt an arm slide over his shoulders.

“I think it worked out okay.” Steve grinned at him and Eddie felt like he was falling in love all over again. “I hear you were the only one to actually say it out loud to him, so I guess I have you to thank for this.” Steve tugged on one of his curls and Eddie batted his hand away, only to grab it again and hold on tight.

“Oh shit. Really?” Julian looked between them with wide eyes. 

Danny was looking at him like he’d hung the moon.

“Yeah, really. Listen, I was thinking. We have a private space booked at a restaurant for the band and the crew and the lesbians,” Steve waved his hand in Robin and Chrissy’s direction who’d fallen into quiet conversation but now just shot him matching middle fingers, “we’d love it if you wanted to come along. Let us treat you two? As a proper thank you for helping this idiot get his shit together.”

Steve pulled him in tight and Eddie just melted.

Julian was nodding enthusiastically.

And poor Danny.

Poor Danny could only squeak in agreement.

Thank you for coming with me on this journey and I hope you've loved it as much as I have. 🖤

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 AO3

@lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring, @child-of-cthulhu, @sweetwaterangel, @anaibis, @katytheinspiredworkaholic, @littlewildflowerkitten, @hallucinatedjosten, @estrellami-1, @gregre369, @stxrcrossed186, @novelnovella, @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme, @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere, @thesuninyaface, @messrs-weasley

[ladythornofrivia]

Bane in my Bones

Pair: Toji x Reader x Nanami

Warning: Spice is nice. Toxic Drama. Toxic Family Issues. Fluff at the end. Smut included.

A/N: Sorry for not writing this series. I should’ve have done it sooner, but there are times when I feel like I don’t want to do anything at all, and yet I feel guilty about not writing the series that I promised here on my blog MONTHS AGO. I should’ve been better, and that I wish for my love writing will return, but I was afraid my love of writing will never come back, at all. Even if I do wish it, even if I do write, I’m still afraid it won’t return, or that I’ll be forever guilty about this whole ordeal. And I’m so happy that I get to see animated version of Toji Fushiguro in Jujutsu Kaisen!!! Thanks to the animated Toji, I now have the inspiration. Here’s chapter 2–the moment for Toji’s fangirls all been waiting for. And there’s a special guest in this series—so I decided to make as a love triangle. Hope you enjoy.

CHAPTER 2

BETTING ONE'S LIKE IS NO JOKE

Toji hadn't been doing well with his current money on his bank account. Despite having the normalcy of a stable job, he desired for a quicker earnings. His life was at stake, low budget, low upgrade and low treatment from the great Zenin family. Nothing has ever come good from a Zenin clan. Everyone thought they're prestigiously intelligent and exuded with grace and wisdom. If only Toji could see how they truly are.

In the midday, he was making another bet for boat racing, he bet on boat 7, which is his favorite number. Anyone who chose number 4 is stupid. 4 is considered related to the word 'death' and bad luck. No hotels or apartments are contained with the numbers 4.

Duration of the boat race, Toji watched until he grew bored and ordered some salty snacks to eat up his boredom. Nothing was enough. But his wallet is empty, and his credit card has been declined.

Nothing was easy anymore. Especially the economy has struck disaster.

This morning, he had found a random woman sleeping in his bed, which made him pissed off at the last night's activities and kicked her out with no mercy. He hates being called as "Daddy". It's already grating enough for him for his memories to randomly conjure up in his head whenever he's busy.

Daddy this, Daddy that. He's not their father, and doesn't have a son.

Not that he's debating if he had one or not.

Boat number 7 broke down in the middle of the race and sank along the racer. Frustrated, Toji crumpled the paper and tossed it carelessly onto the ground.

"Betting on something stupid is stupid," a voice said behind Toji.

The man in a black suit and clean haircut, blew a smoke from a cigarette, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Shui Kong," Toji said, groaning. "What do you want?'

"Got bored with teaching students? I'm surprised you survived that college life for so long. I thought you'd bail out on the first day."

"Fuck off, I'm trying to watch the boat race," Toji grunted.

"The race is over, though," Shui said, smirking at Toji's displeased face. "Anyway, it's not the only reason why I'm here."

"Oh, do tell, but first buy me a box of yakisoba," Toji said, disinterested.

"It's regarding to your family," his companion informed.

"The great Zenin family, yada, yada, yada," Toji's hand waved. "I don't care about what they say. Their words always came from their shitty asses. Go buy the yakisoba; I'll pay you back later."

"With what money? You spent the last of the money on boat racing and a snack."

"Tch," Toji disgruntled. "Go, say whatever you say."

Shui cleared his throat. "It's rather urgent. Your father wants to see you."

"Again, I know what he's going to say. He's going to say that I'm the most disappointing son ever existed in his eyes. Thank god I'm adopted."

"This is about your son, Megumi," Shui mentioned. "He'll be taking over the clan in the near future. Your adopted father will kick you out the moment Megumi reach his potential on becoming an heir to his fortune."

"He never shared a slight of money," Toji groaned.

"He doesn't, which is why I'll be making a proposition--without letting them know, of course. This might be involve with hefty sum of fortune."

Toji's eyes snapped wide open. "I mean," Shui resumed, "if you still want to mope about the Zenin family, chances are your future is going to be bleak. Though I will say that rumor has it your not-so blood brother, is taking over the company in the future. Meaning, your last role to fill is not to become an obedient man, but becoming a family man in your adopted father's stead."

"Toji's teeth gritted. "That fucking bastard." Meeting Shui's twinkled eyes, Toji leaned back at his seat. "So, what kind of deal you want me to do? It better be worth it."

~~~

Reaching to your sanctuary, the weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. Spotting you son asleep on his bed, clutching the sketcbook in hand and a pencil on the floor.

You tucked your son in with a blanket sheet, recently washed from laundry--contained in endless stacks of one clothing after another, then there's the bed sheets and pillow cases. None of which are helping you to get started since your college days have been nothing but torture.

Endless studies and notes in your major courses has been hell for your body and mind. This is the only time you'll be able to recharge is when coming home seeing your precious son, spritely and benign, something that you've never gifted with since born. Anything your son does, you support is fully needed, and needed badly. Not children should face their struggles and dreams alone without a proper kindness and support.

He has made drawings, already at a young age, he's curious and experiment with colors and art brushes and pencils alike. Each day, he drew something on a little piece of a sketchbook you bought. But since he wants his creativity to be expanded, you gathered a big sketchbook and a coloring book for him to fill with joy. The days of him occupying his thoughts, whether on painting or sketching, his mind has kept in occupying thoughts, a happy distraction. One day, he decided to fill an empty page of you and him, and despite the family picture is lacking, your son drew a picture what considered to be a tall man beside him.

Your heart race each time your son asks you about the whereabouts of his unknown father. Truth be told, it's better left unsaid.

Tucking his sketchbook aside on a desk lamp, you turned off the lights after you gave him a goodnight kiss on the forehead.

Stepping out from the room, you prepare to make a cup of green tea and heat a frozen bread pizza in the microwave, then set it on the oven, ticking as the toaster heats up. You sat back down at the dining chair, not bothering to do the assignments to hand in for decent grade.

If only you could drop out from Professor Fushiguro's class. He has been nothing but a condescending soul seeping to you as the girls are there to kiss his ass. They didn't bother to consider that Professor Toj could possibly be married or have a girlfriend. He must have hidden it for a reason, however, you felt as if Toji would ever commit to a person that make themselves appear as a burden to him, maybe that's why he didn't mind girls throwing themselves at him.

Both parties are pathetic.

Thank God you reached home where are no typical noises of squealing that you can't stand. As you head lulled back down on the dining table, forehead pressing against the cold surface, you wonder if it's all worth it. It maybe all worth for your son's sake, your son's future, but, at the very moment, you felt stupid to choose a course that is somehow difficult for you to catch up due to your boredom and the ability to misunderstand the lecture--taking the wrong notes or missing the important ones, and somehow your grades went downhill.

At this moment, you wanted nothing more but to sleep.

"Forget to turn off the toaster," a voice said.

As you didn't open your eyes, lulling to deep sleep, the alarm went off. Not the toaster, your phone.

You woke up with fright, shutting the alarm off. You decided to take a day off from your early reminders.

"Miss (y/n)," a sornous voice called.

You said nothing.

"Miss (y/n)," a man voice's became louder and bolder.

Thinking it was Professor Toji, you sat up straight with wakeful eyes, but it turns out to be a dream.

The doorbell rang.

And with that, you set of running to unlock the doors without peeping through the peep hole, revealing a tall man with cheekbones is as fine as a blade.

"Nanami," you greeted, hugging him.

His hug returned quite awkwardly. Knowing he's not a people-person, you still managed to greet him with a friendly smile.

Beckoning to enter, the smell of pizza has caught Nanami's attention. He rushed into the kitchen and coughed.

Your pizza is over burnt. So he turned on the vents to blow the burning smell away as he opened the kitchen window.

Nanami, who turned your pizza bread off from the toaster.

"Thank god my kitchen isn't on fire," you said in relief, your back slouching, your arm propped over the chair frame.

"I take it that you aren't okay with anything's happening right now?' Nanami poured himself a cup of fresh tea

You sighed. "Yeah, it's been a real bother. I don't even want to go tomorrow. Ever since I attend college, I thought it would be good for the sake of my son, but it turns I've been pathetic. I can't even do anything right."

"You'll get the hang of it," Nanami said calmly, sipping.

"It's not office work," you said, exhausted. "I just want a good life. That' why I took upon educating myself, but this one..."

Nanami stopped lifting his cup halfway. "This one?"

You shook your head. "Nothing. Everyone has been a real bother. Everyone is easily distracted, which makes me easily distracted and overwhelmed."

"Why not take online classes?'

"Online classes is another thing. I just don't trust internet that much. Besides, I don't want to coop myself up in one room. I have to get out to meet new people, maybe something to take my mind off of. I just don't want to do another mistake. So what have you been up to?"

Nanami drank his tea. "Nothing much. Just work, and more co-workers being dumbasses as ever."

"You mean like Gojo?'

"Not that kind of dumbass," he answered.

"Is the co-worker loud and obnoxious?"

"Guess you could say that," he said, tossing your burnt pizza out in the trash bin.

"You and me both."

Then silence prevailed. No exchanged looks, no sudden drop of noise. Nothing. Just the AC rumbling.

"I hope you're doing okay," you began. "I mean, I've seen you of not having a decent sleep. Your eyes says it all."

"I'm doing fine," he denied.

You scoffed. "Liar. Come sit down, I'll prepare something for you. You know, Daichi would be happy to see you if he's awake."

"Where is he now?'

"Sleeping. He kept busy with his drawings! He's my little Michelangelo! Ah, if you could see how far he has gotten with drawings. Everything is perfect. My little Daichi is gifted. I bought more sketchbooks and coloring pencils for him to try if he's up for a challenge, but he settled his experimentations on color pencils sooner than I thought."

Nanami chortled. "You really love your son, don't you?'

"Why not? A mother's love should NEVER suffocates a child with their selfish and hypocritical ideals that make the child hates the mother. My mom does a terrible job of being one. She said to me, "When you have a child, you should control EVERYTHING at what your child says and does, and how the child feels and opinions. She's such a fucking annoyance."

“You didn’t stay,” he concluded.

"I didn't," you said, sipping a second refill. "That's why I got up and left from that household. There's nothing for me there. And I don't want Daichi to be in their life. I just want them to be out of Daichi's sight. He'll cry if he meets them, but I made sure I won't let it happen. Same thing goes with my dad and my relatives, and even my “saintly” sister who's way better at everything than me. I mean, who the hell do they think they are?"

"A mother's love cannot be bested by someone's boasting in accomplishments," Nanami said. "Nor does the ignorance of a family tradition."

"I don't want to become like them," you said, reminding yourself. "Or end up saying the hurtful words to Daichi the way my so-called family did. What they did to me was at its worst, and I feel as if I'm not doing good enough. They thought of me as a threat...just because I think and feel different from the rest of them. Even if they didn't accept me, why can't they just leave me alone, instead of interfere at every personal choices I make for myself? They could've just ignore me, pretend I don't exist so that I could leave without them remembering me. Even now, my family wants me to reconnect with them, but I refused. I didn't want to be open to them, I didn't want to give the closure they wanted. I changed my phone number, my address, my surname, everything. I just hope that they...they don't..."

Tears fell down, your sobs grew louder. You couldn't help it.

Large hands placed on your back, massaging your shoulder blades, circling them. When you're at your worst, nobody was there for you. Your dad mocked your cries, calling your voice 'ugly', then your mom's denial of claiming rude words against you, and your sister's cold-heartedness whenever you see her, she doesn't want to look up to see your "disgusting" face. That's why she moved out with her friends.

There is one point where you wanted to become deaf, so that they couldn't hear what they say and how they said it, with their actions as a contradiction.

You couldn't handle it anymore. You just wanted to start a new life with newfound family.

"(y/n)," Nanami cooed, his mouth leaning towards at the back of your ear shell. "The pain will be over soon. You've done well as a young mother."

Your heart jumped.

What you didn't expect was the subtle kiss he placed on your ear shell.

"Nanami--" The hot tea spilled onto his uniform. Nanami sighed with alert.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry, Nanami. I'll go get some ice!"

Nanami reached for your wrist as you tried to run past him in the kitchen to fetch the ice from the freezer.

"Nanami?"

He said nothing but darting his unreadable eyes onto yours. With your stilled body, your dry throat scrunched up more, bobbing with anxiety. The AC resumed on making the thrumming noise from the roof.

"It'll leave a scar if you don't heal the burns hurry," you reminded, though whispered.

Heart pounded against your rib cage. Your hands coated in sweat. This has never happened to you before. Before Daichi, you suggested and insisted the idea of romance comes from books, but since Daichi is born in your stomach, reality hits too hard for you to handle. Not even your family's unnecessary commentary of how you become heavy and zombie-like, more stale looking and less bless with glow. In nine months, your dear family predetermine for you to be as a punching bag at every chance they get as their way of outlet of their horrible life.

Thank god your dearest friend, your most trusted friend, Nanami, bailed you out of the situation.

But what you felt for him, is he really a friend to begin with?

"What is it, Nanami?" Your face reddened, your quiet voice squeaked with concern.

Without given a warning, Nanami grasped your other arm before he pulled you in for an enticing kiss. Slipping his tongue to your opening, his arms encircled around your dainty body, pulling you closer even when the gap space is closed. Your hands suddenly have a mind of its own; slithered and ran down on Nanami's back, the boiling touch of his dousing office shirt entangled to yours

"(y/n)," he moaned, suddenly shoving you apart for him to discard his office suit off. However, his pants are intact, leaving your hands seizing and undo the belt. Nanami stopped you, plucking your neckline, trailing down on your engorged nipple with his nibbling kisses on the thin straps of your pastel pink tank top.

"I don't mind being as Daichi's Father," Nanami said, chuckling. "But," he said, inching his face closer to yours. "I don't mind you calling me. Wherever you go, whenever you need help, I'll always be there at your side, especially when I’m busy.”

Your sobs are about to appear again. You tried not to show it again, afraid of getting sick and tired by him.

"Nanami..." is all you could utter.

"Say "Yes, Daddy," he murmured.

Your heart bounced.

His fingers hooked your chin and lifted up to meet his commanding look in his cryptic gaze. "Say, "Yes, Daddy."

"Yes...Yes..."

Nanami stayed quiet, eyes coaxing you.

"Yes, Daddy," you whimpered.

With a slight smirk on his face, his face plunged in for another kiss. His hands roamed freely on your body, flowing with soft cotton nightgown. He took off his working glasses before implying a passionate kiss for the third time. Tucking his left hand in your night gown's skirt, his fingers hooked the lined fabric of your panties and slipped the undergarment downwards to your thighs, then your knees. Knowing what he was implying, your pussy is smothered in heat. By the time your pants came undone, he caught the material, stopping.

His phone had ring.

Groaning in frustration, Nanami took the call, but didn't let you go with the other hand.

"Nanami speaking. What is it this time?"

With a ragged breath, your head leaned in against his right breast, your hand pressed against the center of his chest, his heart pounding loudly as it can. It seems like you aren't the only one who's dealing with excitement.

"Fine, I'll be there. Just give a moment or two...It doesn't where I am. I'll be there." Then clicked his phone shut, his other hand attached to your waist again, his forehead pressed against yours.

"Work?' you uttered.

Nanami hummed.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to," you suggested, rubbing his back. "I'll make the futon in my bedroom."

Nanami shook his head, leaning his head back to give a longing gaze at you. "If I didn't leave, how will I be able to give Daichi's future career in art and your dreams of gaining a life you deserve away from your family, by becoming as a truest moment of your happiest self?"

"I'll find a job. That's why I'm here, to start over."

Nanami's hand tucked into your long hair. "It doesn't have to be that way. I can help you, just like I've always been. You don't have to worry about your life anymore."

Your brows scrunched. "What are you saying?'

"Once I get back, please let me know of your answer."

"Wha--"

Nanami wore his doused suit and fetched his things before approaching the entrance door. Chasing after him by the grab on his forearm, Nanami turned and gave you a longing kiss. "Will you please be my wife?"

"Nanami..."

He gave a peck on your cheek, then your eyelids, and his lips finally landing onto your mouth. "Daddy's going to take care of you better than before. Wait for me, my sweet (y/n)," he said, then left, disappear from your sight, leaving you breathless at the previous events unfolded.

Taglist: @galactict3a @colored-tr-panels

[whumpshaped]

sunshine for the bingo? :]

BINGO. also technically this is the second time but the first was so tiny it doesnt count. after this

masterlist bingo card

tw vampire whumper, vampire whumpee, accidental whump, burns, past trauma, lady whumper, flashbacks, conditioned whumpee, death talk and corpses

Helle knew they would have to let go of Beck and begin cleaning up at some point. The entire place was wrecked, and it hurt their heart to know they'd just managed to do a bit of tidying up a week or so prior. Wasted effort.

They glanced towards the bodies and the blood seeping into the carpet, and they just knew all of it was soaked, both the fabric and the wood below. Was it ruined now? Were they going to have to call someone to redo the entire floor? Surely not. Surely, it could be salvaged...

They groaned in frustration. Okay. They just had to start.

"Will you actually stay in my bedroom this time if I bring you back?" they asked gently, already scooping Beck up before he could've answered.

"I'm sorry for leaving," he muttered. "I got so... so worried."

"Yes, yes, because I am wholly incapable of defending myself. What would I do without the help of a runt?" They pushed the door open and carried him inside, then took a calming breath. "Never do it again, yes? I will not praise you for disobeying me, if that is what you were hoping for."

Beck looked up at them with teary eyes. "I don't– I don't want praise, I was just... I was hoping maybe you'd... you'd forgive me for it, if I ended up being useful..."

"I do forgive you. But I need you to promise you will never do such a thing again."

He slowly nodded, his expression full of guilt and the pain of rejection. He must've felt so heroic in that moment when the stake had hit him, knowing he'd likely saved their life, and now here they were, scolding him for it. But they didn't need to encourage something as stupid as heroism. Self-sacrifice. What good did that ever do? Beck was way too willing to get himself killed, and with his abilities, it'd become a reality sooner than later if they were to indulge him.

"I promise, Master. I'm sorry."

"Good." They walked over to their closet and picked out a shirt, then tore off a strip of fabric. Then another. Then one more. They didn't want to go and get the actual bandages until all the windows were covered up again, and they didn't want Beck completely soaking the bed until then either. This seemed like a reasonable compromise, and something that would hold him over until he healed. They had too many shirts anyway.

He looked more than grateful to be patched up by them, mumbling thank yous all the way through. "I can help with cleaning," he said eagerly. "Once– once it doesn't hurt as much–"

"I am counting on that. Your family made a mess of this place."

He winced. "I'm sorry. I'll... I'll come help as soon as I can, Master."

-

Annoying. So annoying. So many little glass shards to pick up. So many corpses to throw into a pile by the front door. So many layers of clothing to put on so they wouldn't get burned. They could've waited for nightfall, sure, but they didn't want to spend their night doing this.

Helle huffed as they tried to put another ripped off curtain rod back in place, securing it with regular nails and a hammer. They didn't own a fucking drill, they never thought they'd need it. And this was the easier part, too. Hanging up the curtains themselves was a major pain in the ass, and they were not looking forward to it.

They went window by window, holding at least three nails in their mouth at all times. They were so immersed in their work that they didn't even hear as the bedroom door opened and closed, nor the soft patter of feet drawing nearer and nearer.

"The bleeding stopped," Beck announced sheepishly, almost startling them enough to fall off the ladder; but instead they ended up letting go of the half-secured curtain to steady themself, letting in the last rays of the evening sun as it swung to the side.

Beck let out a bloodcurdling scream as the light hit his sensitive body, and Helle jumped off the ladder without thinking to pull him into the shadows. "What on earth is wrong with you?" they snapped, desperate to cover up their horror and nausea with righteous anger. "Your only job for the night was to stay away from goddamn trouble! Is that really so difficult?"

The poor thing was crying and whimpering from the pain, his hands, neck, and face burnt and twitchy. Helle was pretty sure he couldn't even see with his eyes having gotten such a direct hit — he was probably blind for the moment.

"I– I'm sorry– I'm sorry–"

"Oh, be quiet." They wanted to strangle him. They wanted to throw him against the wall and hear his ribs crack. They really wished their stupid, idiotic, overzealous, overexcited puppy of a vampire servant could've resisted the urge to throw himself in harm's way for just two seconds. "What did I tell you? What the hell did I tell you? I told you to stay in the goddamn bedroom."

Beck whined, so pitiful that Helle couldn't stand it. They shoved his burnt body further into the darker parts of the room, letting him stumble and fall when he failed to find a single thing to hold onto. Not that it would've helped, given how ruined his hands were. "I'm sorry," he repeated brokenly, staring at nothing with those stupid doe eyes of his. "I'm sorry, I'm s-sorry–"

"Quiet."

He flinched and curled in on himself, sobbing, making it impossible not to draw a comparison to when...

"I apologise!" they cried for the hundredth time, body covered in lashes and fresh burns. They couldn't stop trying every time the lady pulled them away from that terrifying, poisonous patch of sunshine in the hallway, whenever they got a moment of reprieve and they weren't just screaming incoherently. "Please, forgive me–"

She pushed them forward again, plunging most of their upper body into the light to sizzle and melt like wax.

Beck tried to weep as quietly as he could, afraid of being punished further than he'd already punished himself by accident. They shook their head a little, dispelling the memory.

"I shall draw you a cold bath after I have finished the work," they said coldly. "Do try to writhe as little as possible; burned skin cracks and tears quite easily."

~

@whumpprentice @starliight-whump

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