#I just think that if I got my heart shattered again it would give me the strength to overcome my shitty joints yk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maxtermind · 10 months ago

Note

absolutely loved ‘baby, would i still be your lover’, everyone single one got me in my feels! i was wondering would you consider doing a part 2? whether it ends in angst or fluff

I'll tell you the truth, but never goodbye

★ : summary :: when he accidentally insults you during an argument- aftermath ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: hurt/comfort, hints of angst ★ : word count :: 4.3k ★ : a/n :: thank you so much for the love on part 1 💓 some of these have open ending so you can pick whether you'd like to forgive them or not as a reader!! feedback is appreciated :)

( part 1 )

Max Verstappen

You sighed as you sat down to have your morning tea as usual, trying to pretend that nothing was wrong. As if you hadn't spent all night long getting your phone spammed with calls that you were ignoring.

After mindlessly roaming around for a bit, you eventually decided to crash at your best friend’s place. You lazily waved at her as she frantically got ready to leave for work. However, you were on your tiptoe as soon as the door opened.

A body that was possibly sleeping while leaning against the door fell inside and you heard curses that you were quite too familiar with. Your heart clenched at the sight of your boyfriend - or perhaps now, your ex-boyfriend - on his knees, nursing the wound on his head. The ache of seeing him in pain reignited the anguish you thought you had left behind.

“Okay,” you heard your friend murmur. “I'm gonna let you guys get to it.” She was out the door a second later.

You looked at the closed door instead of the man who was desperately trying to make eye contact with you.

“How long have you…” You trailed off before deciding that you didn't want to know.

“As soon as you turned your phone off, Y/N! I've been here since last night.” "Why?" you choked out, the words barely escaping your lips as tears threatened to overflow. His brows furrowed before he ran his hands over his face and got up to sit right next to you. You saw his hand itching toward yours and instinctively pulled it towards your body. "Because I needed to see you in person, to talk." He took another deep breath and you later realized that he was trying to stop himself from crying. “I realize I messed up, baby. I.. I never should have let you walk out.” But his attempt to mend the shattered pieces of your relationship only served to reopen the wounds, your walls instinctively rising in defense,"Talk? You think a talk is going to fix everything?" Max's eyes were filled with a mix of regret and desperation as he reached out for your hand, his fingers trembling slightly. "No, I don't think a talk will magically fix everything," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion.

"But it's a start. I need you to know that I'm truly sorry for what happened. I hate myself for hurting you, for making you doubt how much you mean to me."

You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, the pain of the previous night still too fresh in your mind.

“How can I trust you again, Max? How can I be sure that this won't happen again?" Your voice was barely a whisper, filled with the ache of betrayal.

Max's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I know I've messed up, Y/N. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. I'll work on my temper, I’ll be better to you, I'll do anything you ask of me. I just need you to give me another chance." “You know you’ve always been the best to me, right? I just can’t believe that instead of talking it out yesterday, you straight up skipped to breaking up wit-” Fresh tears started falling down your cheeks. Max immediately leaned forward to hold you in his arms and you let him because you needed him. But how could you trust him again? How could you be sure that history wouldn't repeat itself? That he won’t throw away your whole relationship just because the anger got a hold of him? As Max held you close, you felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over you. Part of you wanted to push him away, to scream and shout at him for causing you so much pain. But another part of you craved his warmth, his touch, his presence.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Max whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I know I messed up, and I hate myself for it. I never meant to hurt you, I swear."

You buried your face in his chest, the tears soaking through his shirt as you struggled to make sense of your feelings.

“I just don't know if I can do this anymore, Max," you admitted, your voice muffled against him. Max tightened his embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "I understand," he murmured, his voice gentle. His admission eased your thumping heart a bit, you were glad to have him back. The storm within you finding a momentary calm.

"I made you feel like our relationship was disposable, like breaking up was no big deal. But that couldn't be further from the truth. You're the most important person in my life, baby and the thought of losing you terrifies me. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right between us, to show you just how much you mean to me. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust if you still want me."

Lewis Hamilton

The weight of Lewis's words hung heavy in the air, suffocating you as you retreated into the sanctuary of your bedroom. Tears streamed down your cheeks unchecked, your heart aching with a pain you couldn't quite comprehend. How had a day that started with such a promise turned into this? You buried your face in your hands, the sting of Lewis's words feeling like acid running through your veins.

Outside the door, the silence was deafening, broken only by the muffled sound of your sobs. Lewis stood frozen in place, his mind racing as he replayed the exchange in his head.

He couldn't believe the words that had escaped his lips, couldn't fathom how he had allowed his frustration to morph into such hurtful remarks.

Minutes stretched into eternity as Lewis grappled with the weight of his actions, the gravity of his words settling like a lead weight in his chest.

He wanted to reach out to you, to apologize and make things right, but his feet remained rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the magnitude of his mistake.

Inside the bedroom, you were consumed by a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Anger, hurt, betrayal - they all swirled together into an ugly monster, threatening to engulf you whole.

How could the man you loved, the man who had always been your rock, turn on you with such venom?

But beneath the anger and hurt, there was a flicker of doubt, a gnawing fear that maybe Lewis's words held a grain of truth. Maybe you were too insecure, too needy, too demanding. Maybe you were asking for too much, expecting him to be there for you when he had his own priorities and responsibilities. Maybe-

The sound of a soft knock on the door snapped you out of your thoughts, and you looked up to see Lewis standing there, his expression wrought with regret and guilt. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the unspoken apology hanging heavy in the air. Looking at him distraught made your chest feel worse. How could he make you feel ten fold worse than this and not feel a thing?

"I'm sorry," Lewis finally whispered, his voice barely audible. "I didn't mean what I said. I was out of line, and I know I hurt you. Please, let me make it right." He rushed through the words.

His words pierced through the haze of your pain, and you felt a bit of heaviness leaving your body. He crossed the room in a few strides, dropping to his knees in front of you, his eyes pleading for forgiveness.

"I don't know what came over me," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion before your boyfriend took your hand away from your face and kissed your cheeks. "I was so caught up in my own frustrations that I lashed out at you, and I hate myself for it. You don't deserve to be treated that way, especially not by me."

You studied his face, searching for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was genuine remorse and regret. And despite the pain still raw in your chest, you couldn't deny the love you felt for him, the longing to mend what had been broken between you. “You hurt me,” you whispered but didn’t push him away as he laid down with you, holding you close to his chest. Some of your resolve wavering when you felt his fast heartbeat. “I wanted you there so much.” He nodded as he shushed you, his own eyes dropping tears. “I’m so so sorry, baby. I can't even begin to express how deeply I regret the way I acted the whole day, I know you deserve so much more but-” You shifted slightly, knowing all that you wanted right now was comfort, you didn't want to forgive him or minimize the weight of his actions. "I don't know if I can right now," you replied, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions.

Lewis's eyes brimmed with tears as he whispered, "Please don't shut me out. I can't bear the thought of losing you."

You felt a pang of guilt at the pain evident in his voice. "I just need some time to process everything," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I understand," Lewis replied, his tone filled with sorrow. "But please know that I'm here whenever you're ready to talk."

You nodded, silently acknowledging his words as you allowed yourself to be enveloped in his comforting embrace.

"I promise to make it up to you," Lewis vowed earnestly, his voice laced with determination. "I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust."

"I want to believe you," you admitted quietly, your heart heavy with uncertainty. Everything was a little too raw right now and your emotions were all over the place.

"I'll spend every moment proving it to you," Lewis declared, his eyes locking with yours in a silent vow.

“I was thoughtless and cruel today, and I never should have let those words leave my lips. You are not insecure, you are strong and resilient, baby. You deserve so much better than the hurtful words I spoke. Please know that I can’t lose you, Y/N. I will work tirelessly to regain your trust and rebuild what I have so carelessly shattered. You mean the world to me, and I will spend every moment striving to be worthy of your love.”

Carlos Sainz

As you sat nervously in your childhood home, the familiar sights and sounds providing little comfort, your mind raced with thoughts of disappointment and hurt.

For the third time, Carlos had failed to join you in meeting your parents, leaving you to face their questioning looks and unspoken concerns alone. You had rehearsed what you would say to them, how you would explain his absence, but each time, the words caught in your throat, choked by a mixture of frustration and sadness. For the past few days since you walked out of your apartment, you had been ignoring Carlos’ attempts to reconcile with you. The calls and texts he spammed you with were ignored and curses left your mouth as soon as your mind went back to the day of the argument, bringing unwanted tears to your eyes.

In the passing, you saw a Ferrari conference being conducted and as much as you wanted to reach out and talk it out with him, your heart did flips that you were sure you should have visited a doctor for.

Your parents, ever perceptive, noticed your unease as you fidgeted with the napkin in your lap, casting worried glances in your direction. You tried to muster a reassuring smile, but it faltered, betraying the turmoil within you.

How could you explain to them that the man you loved couldn't find the time to meet them, despite his promises and assurances? "What's wrong, sweetie?" your mom asked, concern evident in her voice.

You sighed, hesitating for a moment before replying, "It's Carlos... He like…"

Your dad's brow furrowed. "Is everything okay?"

You tried to muster a reassuring smile. "Yeah, he said that he got caught up with work. You know how busy he is with his racing and all..." Your dad’s brows furrowed when you trailed off, about to ask you what exactly you meant but just as you were steeling yourself to broach the subject, the doorbell rang, startling you from your thoughts.

Your heart sank as you realized it was likely a neighbor stopping by to meet you since you don’t visit that often, you stood up to go greet them. But then, to your disbelief, you heard his voice drifting through the door, before you saw your boyfriend standing right behind it. Your head titled in confusion and you drew a breath that took most of the stress from the previous days away from your body.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, his tone apologetic yet determined. Carlos took your hand and kissed it lightly,"Traffic was a nightmare." “What about the conference that you-” “You’re the most important person in my life, Y/N.” He cut you off before pulling you in and walking to the dining room that was in his vision. As if that was the answer to your question.

You turned to face him, your eyes wide with surprise and a flicker of hope. There he was, looking slightly disheveled but undeniably earnest, his gaze that locked on yours was as if it was seeking forgiveness. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the regret etched in the lines of his face.

Your parents exchanged a glance, their expressions softening as they took in the sight of Carlos standing before them.

Despite their reservations about his repeated absences, they couldn't deny the genuine affection that Carlos held in his eyes when he looked at you.

Before you could find the words to respond, Carlos took a step forward, his hand reaching out tentatively. "I'm really sorry, both of you," he said, addressing your parents directly.

"I know how important this is to you, and I should have made more of an effort to be here on time."

His words hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of his shortcomings and a pledge to do better. You felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you, a mixture of relief, gratitude, and a glimmer of renewed faith in your relationship. "Well, we're just glad you could make it," your dad said, offering Carlos a handshake.

"Thank you for coming, Carlos," your mother said, her voice warm yet cautious. "We understand that life gets busy, but it's important to make time for the people who matter most."

Carlos nodded, his expression earnest as he met her gaze. "I couldn't agree more. Family means putting in effort, I promise to make it up to all of you."

As you sat down to dinner, the atmosphere was tinged with a sense of reconciliation and hope. Your hand still intertwined with his as you saw him charm your family. Despite the rocky start, Carlos's presence brought a newfound sense of unity and understanding to the table. And as you shared stories and laughter, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to mend what had seemed irreparably broken.

In that moment, you realized that love wasn't just about grand gestures or sweeping declarations—it was about the everyday moments of connection and compromise, the willingness to forgive and grow together.

And as you looked at Carlos, his eyes filled with determination and affection, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand.

Charles Leclerc

Charles had apologized right after he had said those words and though you had both fallen back into routine, the underlying bitterness and resentment was still present. You weren’t the one initiating any kind of affection from your side and every time Charles was initiating anything, you half assed your way out of it. Was it childish? Probably. But you were still not comfortable with how easily you had forgiven Charles, burying your hurt just to avoid conflict once again despite knowing deep down that he has hurt you probably more than anyone else ever has. These thoughts were running through your head as you sat beside Charles, your heart still heavy with the weight, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. Especially because Charles seemed distant, his mind preoccupied with thoughts, that you couldn't help but wonder what exactly they were. Why had he even asked to go on a date today? To break up with you? Suddenly, Pippa appeared, her presence causing the knot to form in your stomach to get tighter. She approached with a confident stride, a charming smile gracing her lips as she greeted Charles with a hug.

"Hey, Charlie!" Pippa exclaimed, her eyes flickering briefly in your direction before returning to Charles. "Long time no see!"

Charles returned her hug, though his embrace seemed somewhat forced. "Hey, Pippa. Yeah, it's been a while."

You observed their interaction closely, your unease growing with each passing moment. Pippa's presence always seemed to unsettle you, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to their friendship than met the eye. Was he gonna break up with you in public and confess his years long feelings for Pippa? Charles glanced at you, his expression softening as he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. "I was just out with Y/N today."

You couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth at his actions, his affectionate gesture soothing some of the tension that had been building between you.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," Pippa said, offering you a friendly smile. "Sorry I didn’t see you next to Charlie."

You returned her smile, though it didn't quite reach your eyes and managed to reply without gagging. "Nice to meet you, Pippa." Charles tightened his grip on your hand, silently reassuring you of his presence and support. "We were just grabbing a coffee," he explained, his gaze flickering between you and Pippa. "Care to join us?"

Pippa hesitated for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as she glanced at you before turning back to Charles. "Actually, I was hoping we could catch up alone, if that's okay."

You felt a pang of anxiety at her words, a sense of foreboding settling in the pit of your stomach. Despite your reservations, you nodded, forcing a smile as you released Charles's hand. It was better to walk away yourself than to have Charles dismiss you.

"Of course," you said, though your voice sounded strained even to your own ears. "I'll wait for you outside."

Charles shot you an alarmed look as you stood up,”I’ll see you in a few.” Charles’ hand lingered on yours for a moment longer before you reluctantly let go and made your way to the door.

You leaned against your car and enjoyed the wind for a second. You couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the exchange between your boyfriend and his best friend sitting inside.

You were half scared to find them kissing or something but, instead a sense of confusion washed over you as you watched the way Pippa was angrily point a finger at Charles and scream at him.

It was a second later when she stormed out before making her way towards you.

"Is he doing this because of you?!" Pippa's accusatory tone sent a shiver down your spine, her words hitting too close to home.

Before you could even process what was happening, Charles emerged from the cafe, his expression determined as he approached you and Pippa.

"Go home, Pippa," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument as he intertwined his hand with yours.

Pippa's eyes blazed with anger, her fists clenched at her sides as she glared at Charles. "You will regret this, Charles!" she spat before storming off, leaving you both standing there in stunned silence.

Once Pippa was out of sight, you turned to Charles, your heart pounding in your chest. "What was that all about?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you with apologetic eyes. "I'm sorry you had to witness that, Y/N. Pippa has been... difficult lately."

You frowned, your mind reeling with confusion and frustration. "Difficult how?"

Charles hesitated for a moment, his gaze searching yours as if trying to find the right words. "She's been pushing boundaries, trying to come between us. But I won't let her."

"Hey," he continued, taking your hand in his. "I told Pippa that I wouldn't be spending time with her alone anymore. If she can't accept you, then it's better for us to not be friends at all."

You blinked in surprise, a rush of gratitude flooding through you at his words. "Really?"

Charles nodded, squeezing your hand gently. "Really. You're the most important person in my life, and I won't let anyone come between us."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. "Thank you, Charles. I appreciate you standing up for us."

He smiled softly, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "I'll always stand up for us, Y/N. You mean everything to me."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you threw your arms around him, holding him close. Despite the lingering bitterness and resentment, you couldn't deny the overwhelming love you felt for him in that moment.

Lando Norris

As you stepped out of the taxi, the cool night air enveloped you, offering a moment of respite from the whirlwind of emotions that had engulfed you throughout the evening.

Your heart still felt heavy with the weight of Lando's hurtful words, but beneath the pain, a numbness resided- knowing deep down that you might’ve just broken up with your boyfriend.

Before you could take another step, you heard the sound of hurried footsteps approaching from behind. Turning around, you saw Lando rushing towards you, his eyes filled with remorse and his expression wrought with sorrow. Your hand instinctively went to your chest, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart.

"Y/N, please wait," he called out, his voice pleading as he reached your side, breathless from his haste.

You pulled your face to meet his eyes, uncertainty and wariness etched into your features as you met his gaze. Part of you yearned to turn away, to shield yourself from the pain of his words, but another part couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, he was sincere in his apology.

"Lando," you said softly, your voice tinged with a mixture of hurt and apprehension. You wanted to say more but the damn ball in your throat stopped you doing so.

He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours as he searched for the right words to express the depth of his regret. "I know I messed up, Y/N. I hurt you, and I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am for that."

His words washed over you like a soothing balm, offering a sliver of comfort. But still, you couldn't bring yourself to let go of the hurt that lingered in your heart.

"I should have been there for you tonight, supporting you and showing you how much you mean to me," Lando continued, his voice filled with genuine remorse. "Instead, I let my own selfishness and insecurities get in the way, and for that, I am truly sorry."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to him, the sincerity in his voice echoing the ache in your own heart. You were sure you’ll regret letting go of this amazing relationship without at least attempting to work on it.

Despite the pain he had caused you, you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to rebuild what had been broken.

"I don't expect you to forgive me right away, Y/N," Lando said softly, his hands shaking and showcasing the intensity of his vulnerability.

"I know I have a lot of work to do to earn back your trust and your love. But please, just give me a chance to make things right. I promise to do whatever it takes to show you how much you mean to me, every single day for the rest of my life."

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity and remorse, leaving you torn between the desire to hold onto the pain of the past and the hope for a brighter future. As you gazed into his eyes, searching for any hint of insincerity or deceit, all you found was raw honesty and unwavering devotion.

With a heavy heart and a flicker of hope, you reached out to take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you just yet, Lando," you whispered, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

Lando takes a step closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. "I'll spend every moment proving I'm worthy of your love, Y/N. Let me show you how much you mean to me, starting from this moment. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust, even if it means giving you the space you need. Just know that I'm here for you, whenever you're ready."

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jasmineoolongtea · 8 months ago

Text

― in between ⋆⭒˚.⋆

― the ways in which they act around you when you're in that in-between stage ༘ ⋆｡˚

contents: gojo x gn!reader, geto x gn!reader, nanami x gn!reader, megumi x gn!reader, yuji x gn!reader, yuuta x gn!reader, headcannons/drabbles, fluff a/n: heavily based on in between by gracie abrams. if she releases it in the secret of us deluxe edition, i might just explode with happiness. btw thank you sm for blowing up my last post, literally insane of you guys and a big kiss to all of you. also genuine question for you guys, do you prefer the layout i have for my headcanons, drabbles or longer fics? i'm trying to see which one you guys prefer

gojo satoru never lets his phone ring for more than a couple seconds when it comes to you. doesn't matter where, when or what it could be about, the second he hears your personalised ringtone or sees your name flash across the top of his screen, he's scrambling to try and answer it as fast he possibly can. he could be in the middle of fighting a curse, deep within the throws of battle with a laser focus on the target in front of him and it all goes out the window the moment you call his phone.

you'll never know about it though. for some reason, satoru keeps this fact to himself like it's the biggest secret in the world. he'll always pick up the phone with a carefree lilt to his voice, sometimes even choosing to tease you for calling him when you could have just texted instead. quietly inside, he thanks the universe for giving him the opportunity to hear your voice again.

"gojo," god, he loves the way you say his name, maybe one day he'll manage to get you to call him satoru. "are you sure you're at home right now?" there's a tinge of concern that permeates your voice and he swears his heart beats twice as fast just thinking about the fact that you might be worried about his well being.

"of course! why'd you ask? don't tell me this is your way of asking to come over right now?" you sigh at his antics and he laughs it off, it's like a routine you two do. he keeps jokingly throwing out these more than friendly offers to your constant dismissal but secretly, he hopes one day that he can stop pretending like they're just that.

there's a loud crash coming from his side of the call which only serves your suspicions as you quip back. "no, gojo. i'm asking because i'm hearing noises like you're beating someone up." he curses faintly under his breath at the curse who's off groaning in pain in the distance after being punted into a wall with a flick of his wrist.

you pause for a second as your voice softens "is this a good time to call because if not i can just-"

"no, no." he cuts you off, "i've got all the time in the world for you."

geto suguru hates it when you cry and hates it even more when you're away. he never thought it would be possible to hear a heart shatter in front of him but that's what he hears every time you shed a tear. you're the definition of angelic as crystalline tears stream down your face and his heart swells with warmth when you allow him to comfort you in his arms.

silently, he pledges to burn down whatever has brought you so much grief and pain as a newfound sense of anger courses through his veins. but before he can do anything, you turn to him with watery eyes and a quivering lip as you ask him to do the unthinkable.

"stay." you plead quietly.

"okay." he responds, a soft, comforting smile gracing his expression. he'll never say it out loud but he knows that it's a request, just like many others, he'll accept a thousand times over if it means he gets to stay close to you, even if it's nothing more than this.

if he thought it was painful to see you cry, then being away from you was possibly a fate worse than death. whenever he has to bear the misfortune of being separated from you, there's a part of him that you've taken away with you and is only reunited when you return to him. absence is said to make the heart grow fonder but he's pretty sure it's humanly impossible for his to do that as you're already the one it beats for. even across the distance of a phone call, it's still not enough for him to hear but not see you as it simply makes him crave your presence next even more.

he's rarely ever let anyone in like this before but the day you see him exhausted, dishevelled and broken and still choose to remain at his side, despite his protests, is the day he's sure that you're the only thing he'll ever want for the rest of his life. you claim it's under the guise of being friendly yet even satoru hasn't seen him like this. you might not know it but he does.

he doesn't say much, instead choosing to bask in this moment of mutual comfort and closeness as even at each other's worst, you both know that you'll still be okay.

nanami kento says that he's new at this when you toe that delicate line between the two of you. you're new to this too. he's scared and you're scared, however, the fear is not enough to stop this. when does the line of being just friends end and the line of calling each other lover start? or is there a secret in-between stage that the two of you are stuck in like right now, where the other waits with bated breath to see if someone takes the risk to make the first move?

you've been friends for as long as you can remember running into each other that one fateful day within the rectangular walls of jujutsu tech. however, there's always been a whisper of something else there as well. it's been something the two of you have danced around with lingering glances and silent, 'accidental' touches in public spaces. the two of you have seen each other through the growing pains of adolescence, nights of broken hearts and awkward first dates and now with an added layer of professionalism as recent coworkers.

when it was nanami who was the one who rescued you from those times when you were left cold and alone in a random restaurant somewhere, you know that you've had enough of waiting on somebody who doesn't care about you. as he places his hand on your shoulder, ushering you into his car with his jacket dropped across your figure with the utmost care, he knows that you deserve so much more than whatever this world can offer and he can only dream of being the one to give this to you.

between you and him, there's an invisible wall of all the labels you have each barricade the other behind in an attempt to hide under a sense of familiarity but now in this moment, you want nothing more than to tear it all down with your bare hands. he reaches out to you, threading his fingers through his and in one swift move, he's done the impossible and has crossed over the holy ground that lies beneath you.

"do you think this is a good idea?" you ask him, your voice barely above a whisper.

"positive." he responds, more resolute in his answer than in anything he has been in his life, and you swear sparks fly when you kiss.

fushiguro megumi loves your eyes and your smile and you love how he talks late at night when there's no one there. it's like a silent agreement between you two, one that you always honour. whenever one of you guys can't sleep, you will go to each other's dorm rooms and knock twice and you guys will stay up and talk until either the sun comes up or you both fall asleep.

it doesn't take a genius to say that megumi is a guarded person, with his walls so high you might even lose sight of him behind them, so it only makes it even more precious when you're able to see him like this in the dim light of the moonlight pouring in through the window. his skin is illuminated by the glow and the way he sounds when he's speaking with his soul bared open in its entirety makes you want to forever immortalise this moment in your memories. you think about all the people who have missed out on experiencing him like this with how his eyes sparkle with passion and how he breaks out into a grin at the slightest joke, leading you to mourn silently for their loss. however, you think of how vulnerable he lets himself become around you, knowing that you'll stay here with him no matter what, and the sweet nothings you hear him whisper to you when he thinks that you've fallen asleep and you realise this a secret you'll want to keep just between these walls.

on the rare occasion that megumi loses his battle to sleep first, he'll silently reach out for your hand and pull you closer to him. you're not sure if he's doing this consciously or unconsciously but you chose not to comment on the growing red glow of his ears as you sink into his touch.

usually, however, what happens is that you fall asleep first as you make your way onto the pillowy fortress that is either of your guys' beds. as you begin to drift off, he's always there watching over you like your very own moody guardian angel. this is the most he'll let himself indulge in your closeness, for now, as he takes comfort in the familiarity of this in-between stage.

itadori yuji tells you that you're beautiful, funny and smart like nothing he's ever seen. he swears on everything he loves in this world, a list that includes you but you don't need to know that yet. you brush off his compliments with practised ease as you try to fight the burning sensation that is spreading across your face. deep down, you can feel your heart fluttering at his compliments but then you think about how you shouldn't be feeling this way about someone who's your friend.

"itadori, you're exaggerating," you say, shoving his shoulder playfully. he pretends to feign hurt, rubbing the impacted area with a slight pout. adorable, you think to yourself before bringing yourself back into the present moment.

"no, it's true really! if you don't believe me, i'll just keep saying it over and over again." he asserts, ever so confident in his stance. it's all true to him, just like how the sky is blue and the grass is green. he'll be the first one to say how pretty, amazing and talented you are in a room full of your biggest supporters and he'll be the first one to say it again when there's no one else.

you roll your eyes half-heartedly at him, trying your best to act nonchalant despite wondering if he might ever feel more for you than your current state of friendship. "you don't say that to your friends. what about nobara, you don't say this to her, do you?"

"yeah, but she isn't you," he responds back. you don't answer him, choosing instead to point out an ice cream stand in the far distance and he lets you tug him along with you. it's okay, he knows that you're scared of whatever lies ahead for you two. he understands that you're worried that he might like you in that way, although he thinks that it's a bit stupid you're still so unsure about it when he wears his heart on his sleeve whenever it comes to you. whatever is it, he'll be happy to go along at your pace, just as long as it means he gets to be by your side like this.

okkotsu yuuta is so good to you and it makes you want it more than everything in between. is it greedy to say that you want more than whatever you two have right now? the longing stares, the lingering touches and the way your faces light up when you spot each other in a crowded room. sure, those were all fine for a bit but how long were you able to survive on just that when he was right there next to you as a constant reminder of the possibility of something more.

you never thought that you would be able to meet someone like him, someone who treats you as if you were the best thing to ever happen with so much care and love radiating from his very being. the way his hand brushes your cheeks when you get even the smallest cuts makes your heart feel like it's about to fall out of your chest with how he takes extra care to scan over your appearance for anything, pausing for a second on your lips. you think to yourself, he must be doing this on purpose, and you want to curse at him for playing with your heart but when he smiles at you with those half-moon eyes, you can feel all of that melting away and more.

the only person you can blame here for your current predicament is yourself really, you were the one who drew the line in the sand when the two of you first met. just friends, you said but in your defence, you had just learned about his history and how cold and empty his has been as well as how much you've been hurt in your own past, so you decided to do what was, at the time, what you thought was best for the both of you. only now, every day you spend with him makes him wish that you would one day wake up and finally take that jump.

yuuta also shares your sentiments, actually ever since he first saw you he knew that you were the one he wanted to live and breathe for, but he doesn't say anything for fear of scaring you off. he knows about your worries, your doubts and your fears and as much as he wants to tell you that you should throw caution into the wind and that he'll take that step for you, he also knows that he can't. so for now he'll do his best to quell your nerves with a gentle hand on the small of your back and a fleeting kiss on your cheek that you'll someday trust in yourself and him to fall headfirst into this new unknown territory, outside of this in between.

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hiraethwrote · 4 months ago

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cw gn!reader but written with f!reader in mind, angst, no comfort, breakup, pining, minor clubbing wc: <1k an i'm on my period which is making me a little emotional, which resulted in this

ex!suguru will never truly be over you, convinced you’re the one that got away.

the breakup was “mutual”, emphasis on the quotation marks — it only meant you guys ended on good terms. it was a very quiet and tender scene. he holds your hands in his, slowly his thumb strokes across your knuckles, never letting his eyes leave your tear stained face.

ex!suguru who, despite disagreeing wholeheartedly with the decision, sees it’s for the best. he will forever hate himself for being unable to see it coming, unable to stop it — one day he suddenly notices how staying in the relationship brought you more turmoil than joy, and he didn't have the heart to hold onto you even though he so desperately wanted to. but he would ruin himself million times over for you

“it’ll be okay,” he says softly, letting himself indulge in the small acts that come so naturally to him one last time before he has to let go, hand reaching up to dry your tears and cupping your cheek. “i’ll be okay.”

with the quiet promise, he feels the stress leave your body and you rest against his touch, a sad smile painting your lips — you’re so beautiful, he thinks.

ex!suguru who lies because he knows it's what you need to hear. you had already stayed longer than you wanted because you didn’t want to hurt him. he wasn’t surprised. you were just so considerate, through and through. he had always thought the relationship was too good to be true anyways, never truly feeling worthy of you

ex!suguru who doesn’t cry, but that is because he feels numb. he can’t remember feeling a pain as intense as this one.

when your tears have stopped, only shy sniffles escaping you, he comes with one last confession. “i’m always going to love you.” he waits, hoping you would say it in return. it isn’t because you don’t love him anymore that you can’t keep going, it’s just because it isn’t working.

“i know,” you say quietly and his heart shatters.

ex!suguru who has his friends fooled because they think he is over the relationship already. he acts the same, eats the same and goes about his business the same — but that’s because it doesn’t concern anyone other than the two of you.

first weekend as a single man, gojo forces him to go out clubbing with him. he really doesn’t want to, but he can’t give his friend any excuses he will accept.

he hates every moment of it, rudely shutting down anyone that approaches him. no matter how attractive, no matter how charismatic, no matter how willing — they’re not you so what’s the point?

ex!suguru who hates the universe a little more than usual. despite his best efforts, he can’t seem to escape you entirely. and he swears he tries, but you somehow just appear every now and then.

he spots you in the grocery store, doing your daily shopping. he spots you in the line of the coffeehouse, ordering your usual drink (one he knows by heart). he sees you on every feed, posting pictures and updates of your life — you seem happy.

his heart screams for him to surrender to his desires, to approach you and hear your voice again. but he knows better, so after torturing himself by admiring you for a few seconds, he simply turns on his heel and leaves.

ex!suguru who after years still thinks about you as much as the day you left. he has tried to move on, but it feels like a betrayal, even after all this time.

has he healed? sure, a little. life goes on after all. with time he has been reunited with some sense of happiness. however it could never compare to the period of his life where he was so fortunate to be with you.

ex!suguru runs into you after nine years. and not like all the times he has simply noticed you down the street — no, you fully crash into his chest one day while walking out of a bakery.

to say he is surprised is an understatement. he has memorised all the places you used to visit so this exact scenario wouldn’t happen, and this had never been a chain you had set foot in before. but a lot changes in nine years.

“suguru, hi.” your voice is light, a rhythm in it that was not present at the end of your relationship. “wow, crazy running into you. how have you been?”

“good,” he croaks, eyes glued to your face. he still finds you as ethereal as the day you left. he wants to say more, but he is a little unsettled by how at peace you seem to be despite not being with him. “and you?”

it doesn’t go unnoticed how you present yourself as genuinely content with where you are in life. however, suguru goes through the entire heartbreak all over again — he has missed so much of your life. he used to think he would be along side you for every single moment of it. instead he is stood in front of you and feeling as if the walls are closing in on him.

his breath catches when you stretch out your hand to grab his forearm. “it was really great seeing you again,” you muse. it’s probably just wishful thinking, but he believes he hears a sadness in your voice that comes from missing him.

“you too,” he whispers, and you’re gone again.

ex!suguru who eventually comes to terms with just being alone again. before you, he always imagined this was how it would end, not the person made to share his life with someone.

you had obviously made him believe otherwise. with you by his side, waking up next to someone and sharing your meals didn’t seem so silly anymore.

but it turns out he only wanted those things if it was with you.

tags @sad-darksoul ﾉ @madaqueue ﾉ @toadtoru ﾉ @hiraethwa ﾉ @harperluvgojo

#— ଓ my creative corner #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto #suguru geto oneshot #jjk suguru geto #jjk suguru #geto #suguru #suguru x reader #geto suguru

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retroellie · 1 year ago

Text

Polluted

Summary: After a long day of work, Spencer comes home and fucks his stresses away.

A/N: This was written in literally 45 minutes but I had this idea and I couldn't make it into a full fic, my mind could only think of the smut part lmao. Enjoy!!! :)

Warnings: NSFW, slapping, degradation, squirting, unprotected sex, mean!spencer

Word count: 1.9K

Prison changed Spencer Reid, plain and simple. This is not the man you came to love. He was cruel, possessive, completely and utterly damaged. You hoped that prison wouldn't taint Spencer too much, you hoped that he would continue to be sweet little Dr. Spencer Reid. But you knew what prison could do to a person, for you locked people up daily. You knew that the system would take Spencer's old soul and soft heart into its muddy hands, squeezing them until they became one. Although sometimes in the right lighting, in the right moment, you can see a hint of Spencer in his light brown eyes.

You can't say that you hated the change in Spencer, obviously there was much work to be done before Spencer could truly be himself again. However, you could live with this change. He was hungry, feeling as though your body was the only thing that could fill that hunger. It was extremely attractive to you, his sudden hunger for you. Spencer was always using you, using your body or your mouth or your hands... just you. There was always an excuse for him to be inside of you in his mind. A man thought of looking at you? He bent you over the kitchen table. You wore a shirt that showed a bit of your chest? He dragged you into the bathroom and forced you onto your knees. You smiled at him? He would shove his face between your thighs until you couldn't even see straight.

Even on the way back home after he had gotten out of prison, he bent you over the backseat on the side of the road and fucked you roughly. It felt like you were stepping on eggshells every time around him because you never know what can set him off... it was oddly scandalous, almost arousing as the thought of how he'd fuck you next was always on your mind. A big plus was that spencer dug himself into your brain, pulling out your deepest and darkest kinks, and using them to give you earth-shattering, mind-blowing, life-changing orgasms. Now you don't think you two could ever go back to just plain sex. He had ruined you, ruined your body so much that only the thought of being hurt could get you off now.

"Fucking bitch..." Spencer spat out, his hand spreading your legs further open as his cock drilled into your soaked cunt. "That bitch looked at me like I was fucking stupid..."

His words came out breathy and jagged as he fucked into you at an animalistic pace. Spencer came home today upset, his tie being ripped off and thrown down as soon as he got into the door. You knew something was up by this action, but also the look on his face. He seemed to have a frown sewn onto his face, something that he wore most days. You asked what was wrong but you were met with him ripping off your clothes, hinting that he didn't want to talk but to fuck his frustrations into you. Now here you were, panties ripped off, legs wide open, Spencer deep inside you with his hand placed on your neck.

You couldn't tell how many times you came just in this position alone, you couldn't keep count. His hand gripped your through, affecting the way your brain functioned. You felt with every thrust of Spencer's hips you would lose brain cells... creating the dumb cock whore that Spencer ached to achieve. Spencer's hand applied more pressure to your throat as he thought of what happened at work, how while section chief Erin Strauss critiqued his work, people were being murdered.

"As if my 187 IQ wasn't enough for her." He started, his hand on your thigh being slammed down past your face and into the wooden table he was drilling you into. " I mean, I've been at this place for over 10 years... I know what I'm fucking doing"

You came again, not able to keep yourself from unraveling now. His hand on your throat was constricting your moans, completely silencing them as the only thing that could come out of your mouth was soft gurgles. You loved this feeling, knowing that at any moment if you didn't like it you could alert Spencer and he'd stop immediately. I guess you could say that Spencer's care for you never disappeared after prison, he would go on to say that it strengthened his love for you. He had this picture of you that you had sent him in one of your many letters, he kept it with him everywhere he went for it was the only thing that kept him sane.

One time a fellow inmate saw it, snatched it from him, and digested every single inch of you. He went on to explain the disgusting things he would do to you if he got the chance, that is exactly why Spencer came home to fuck you nice and good every night. Because if he wasn't the one to do it, he knew that other people would take you for granted, they would spend only minutes with you... ignoring what you needed and taking what they wanted. You would feel incomplete, unsatisfied, and completely in denial that love existed. You would assume love was only made for books and movies, that no one could show you the love you deserved. This is the love you deserve. You deserve a love that could have you coming undone over and over again, a harsh and mean kind of love but that always ended with soft kisses and a nice hot bath. A love that was sour at first but ended sweet, making sure that the words "i love you" were carved onto your skin.

"You wouldn't do that would you?" He whispered into your ear, his grip on your throat as he waited for your response. " You don't think I'm stupid ...hmm?"

His cock was too deep inside you, it was deep enough to have you going cross-eyed and unable to speak. Your moans became audible now, no longer being stuck in your throat due to his pressure being released. His pace was still inhumanly fast, not stopping even for a second. The table had started to shit forward, being scrapped across the floor and probably worrying the downstairs neighbors. You were on the verge of cumming again, your mind not even able to comprehend his question until you felt a harsh sting on your cheek. Spencer had slapped you across the face, growing impatient while waiting for your answer.

"Answer me...." He hissed out, leaning down and taking his lips to yours. He bit down on your lip, creating a pain that shot through your body. "Or I'm going to make you cum over and over and over again until you can't think of anything else besides my cock deep inside your tight little pussy..."

You could taste blood now, your lip bleeding and seeping into your mouth. His words created this deep, rough knot in your stomach. It wasn't like the rest of the orgasms you had tonight, no it was more intense. It hurt, painful with every thrust of his cock. It created a deep pain and pleasure dynamic in your body but felt like something was trying to claw itself out of your body.

"Fuck..." You screamed out, grabbing onto him and digging your fingernails into his back. "No I wouldn't! Fuck... I wouldn't! I won't!"

You finally replied, hoping with those words he would deepen his thrust if that was even possible. Spencer just grinned down at you, placing his head in between your shoulder blade and your neck. He set soft kisses to the skin, his warm lips against your burning skin. Spencer was close, your words pushing him further to the edge. The feeling inside your stomach didn't stop or dull, it only got worse. You were screaming now, Spencer's hand lingering on your neck but sitting gently on your skin. Spencer picked up his speed, the table scraping against the floor even harder.

You couldn't handle it, everything around you becoming so far away yet being so close. The feeling got to a point of feeling terrifyingly painful but also so potent of pleasure and so bewitching that you didn't want it to end now. A couple more of Spencer's deep and harsh thrusts sent you over the edge, the painful knot in your stomach snapping and shooting liquid out of your body. It was the first time you had ever squirted, the feeling so glorious that you wished it would happen every time. Your vision went out, only seeing light and hearing Spencer's soft moans as he finished inside of you. The world felt like it ended, nothing to be seen or to be experienced... just emptiness but complete fullness all at the same time.

"Good girl..." You heard Spencer's words echo through your now-empty mind. You couldn't tell if your eyes were closed or not. "You did so good for me honey... I'm so proud of you."

Those single words were all you needed to hear as you floated back to earth and into your body, you blinked a couple times... forgetting where and who you were for a split second. You came back to see Spencer brushing your hair back from your sweaty face, his face inches from yours as his face filled with concern that maybe he had broken you finally.

"There she is..." He chuckled softly, kissing your lips softly. " There's my girl..."

You gave him a weak smile, raise your hand to rest on his cheek. You rubbed it softly, feeling the growing stubble on his face. He was just as sweaty as you, his body hot to the touch. You two probably looked insane, one of you barely able to walk looking beat the hell up and the other one scratched up and drenched with liquids. Spencer gently slid himself out of you, watching you wince softly as it felt like he was connected to you at this point.

"Sorry..." He whispered, taking your hand in his as he rubbed your thigh gently "I was too rough huh?"

Rough was not even close to what Spencer was. He was brutal, sadistic, barbaric but you couldn't deny that you would choose it over compassion any day. You began to think that maybe prison was the best thing that could've happened to Spencer Reid, not only was he a genius but he now had a powerful glow to him. Shy kisses and longing gazes were a thing of the past for you two, Spencer knew what he wanted and he was going to get it.

"You were just rough enough..." I chuckled, feeling nothing but content and at peace in this moment.

Spencer laughed with you, pecking your lips one last time before pulling away from you. He looked around, his eyes landing on the couch. He smiled, walking over and leaving you but only for a second. He came back with a blanket, wrapping it around you then picking you up bridal style. You thanked him silently because you knew there was no way you were getting off the table without some kind of help.

"To the bath you go..." He joked, holding you close to him as he walked you to your shared bathroom.

You looked into his eyes and at the right lighting, the right moment, you looked into his light brown eyes... realizing that this is Spencer Reid. This is Spencer Reid damaged, polluted, and bruised... but it was still the man you fell in love with all those years ago.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler

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jjkamochoso · 7 days ago

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hii im so glad your requests are open, ive had this idea for a while and couldnt wait until you opened them

since you wrote about both jjk men and reader describing their type my idea is that maybe before reader and jjk men got together reader had to describe their type and reader described something totally different from jjk men lol (maybe it was before they even became friends) and men find out and get insecure so reader has to comfort them

Oh my gosh I love this!!! Thanks for sending this request in, I had an awesome time writing it!! I hope you enjoy🫶❤️

JJK Men When Your Type Was Something Totally Different From Them

Very Light Angst, Fluff

JJK men x gn!reader

Warnings: none

You and your boyfriend were sitting at a table in a cafe one day, enjoying drinks and each other’s company, when all of a sudden the serene atmosphere was shattered.

“Oh my god! Y/n, it’s been so long!”

A friend you hadn’t seen in a few years greeted you excitedly as you invited them to sit at your table.

“I can’t stay long, I have an appointment to get to,” they said as they eyed your boyfriend and smirked. “Who’s this?”

You introduced your friend to your boyfriend and they exchanged pleasantries. You and your friend then caught up for a bit until they checked the time on their phone.

“Seriously, two look really cute together,” your friend said, giving you a tight hug goodbye as they readied to take their leave. “Although, y/n, isn’t it funny how your type changed? I remember you told me awhile ago, when you were single, that you were into…”

Yuji:

“…super tall guys with black hair. Real dark, mysterious types.”

After your friend had left the cafe, Yuji was sporting a frown where a smile usually rested.

“Are you alright?” you asked.

“Mhm,” he replied, pushing the food around his plate with his spoon.

“You’re not very convincing, Itadori,” you teased, poking his arm softly.

“Do you think I’m cute?” he blurted out, taking you by surprise.

“Of course I do,” you responded, dumbfounded. “Why would you think otherwise?”

“Your friend,” he said, “they said your type is the total opposite of me.”

“Yuji, the last time I talked to them was three years ago. I hadn’t met you yet.”

Yuji looked up from his food, his face immediately brightened. “Really? Does that mean you’ve changed your mind since then? Because of me?”

“Yep, the only type I have is my fun loving, big hearted boyfriend Yuji Itadori, I promise,” you told him, leaving a kiss on his grinning cheek.

Megumi:

“…carefree boys with light colored hair and eyes.”

When your friend had gone and it was just you and Megumi again at your table, you noticed a change in his mood.

"Is something bothering you?"

"No," Megumi replied sharply, causing your extending hand to retreat back to your side of the table, not wanting to bother him. He sighed. "I just... why are you with me?"

Your eyebrows raised in shock. "Why would you ask that?"

"I'm not affectionate, I don't know what I'm doing in a relationship. I'm not even your type." He whispered the last sentence, his eyes burning a hole through his coffee mug.

"Oh Megumi, ignore my friend. The last time I've brought up anything with them that had to do with crushes or "types" was years ago, long before I laid eyes on you. I love you because you're you and I wouldn't want you any other way."

"I guess I could try being more carefree if you want," he mumbled, his cheeks turning a pale pink.

"I could sooner see you bleaching your hair," you replied, laughing softly as Megumi sent an annoyed look your way.

Yuta:

“…overly confident boys with blonde hair."

"Geez, I guess I'm not your type at all, then, huh?" Yuta wondered when your friend was out of sight, anxiously picking at his jacket sleeve.

"You weren't my type three years ago when I talked to my friend last, no," you replied, not wanting to lie to him, "but that doesn't matter. You're absolutely my type now. I don't think there's a boy more handsome or perfect for me than you are."

Yuta's face sported a red tint from him blushing at your words. "Do you really mean that?"

"Of course I do, my love," you said, leaning over the table and pressing a quick kiss to his lips, leaving him more flustered still.

Inumaki:

“…guys who were super talkative and tall.”

Right as your friend left your table, you watched as Toge pulled his phone out.

"Let me stop you right there," you said, gently guiding the phone from his hands to the table, spying the dreaded, "I'm sorry I can't talk to you, you deserve more" note you knew he had already started typing. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me and I don't want you to ever forget that. What my friend said, that was my type years ago, way before I knew a guy like you existed. I couldn't ask for a better boyfriend than you."

Toge blinked slowly at you before picking his phone back up.

"You better be erasing that original message because you know I don't care that you can't really speak," you said sternly, earning a meek thumbs up from the boy sitting across from you. When he passed his phone back over to you, you couldn't help the laugh that escaped your throat as you read what he wrote.

While we're out, should I buy a pair of high heels?

Noritoshi:

“…extremely tall, tan, and muscular men.”

“Great. That sounds just like Todo,” grumbled Noritoshi after your friend left, taking a sip of his tea.

“I didn’t even know him back then,” you replied, ignoring the urge to roll your eyes at his jealousy. “Sure, I had a type, but that doesn’t mean I have to stick with it. You’re the most handsome man I know and you look nothing like that.”

“Do you promise I look nothing like Todo?” questioned Noritoshi, stifling a laugh.

“I swear.”

He gave you a gentle squeeze of your hand. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Todo:

“…skinny, short, pale guys.”

"That's definitely not what you said when I asked your type," Aoi said, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"I can't believe my friend brought that up," you groaned. "Back then, yeah, I was into super thin guys, but that all changed a few years later, right before I met you."

"Are you sure all my muscles don't bother you?" he teased, flexing his arm as he reached across the table to caress your cheek.

Your face warmed at his gesture. "I'm sure," you choked out, "but I wouldn't be opposed to you showing off your arms more often just so I can be 100% positive."

Aoi let out a hearty laugh as you sank further into your seat, flustered by your handsome boyfriend.

Ino:

“…super buff guys with dark hair.”

Ino kept his focus on his drink for a long time after your friend had spilled those details about you, obviously bothered that he looked nothing like that.

"Hey," you said after agonizing minutes of silence, "please don't take that to heart, that was my type a long time ago."

Ino looked up at you with an expression akin to a kicked puppy. "But has it changed? If I'm not your type... why would you want to be with me?"

"Ino," you said, standing up from your side of the booth and sliding into his, "I wouldn't date you if I didn't find you handsome. You are so kind and loving, and I think you're the absolute hottest guy on the planet. Maybe even the universe."

He dramatically pulled his beanie over his face as he dropped his head into his hands. "Now I have to compete with dark haired, shredded aliens?!"

Consoling him took much longer than anticipated!

Gojo:

“…quiet, short guys with facial hair.”

Satoru couldn't hold back his reaction when he heard that.

"That's your type?" he asked, shaking with laughter. "What the hell are you doing with me, then?"

"Satoru, stop," you pleaded, clearly embarrassed. "The last time I saw that friend was years ago. I was a whole different person."

"Do you not find me pretty?" he pouted, jutting out his bottom lip and batting his eyelashes.

"You're the prettiest man I've ever had the privilege to meet," you responded, playfully tapping his nose with your finger. "It would be interesting to see you with a mustache or something though."

You both got quiet, imagining what Satoru would look like with facial hair.

"Sorry I ever brought that up," you said.

"Blegh!" he replied, sticking his tongue out. "You owe me another pastry later because I lost my appetite picturing that."

Geto:

“…men with light hair and soft facial features.”

Your friend had walked away, leaving Suguru to mull over their words.

"Am I too... sharp for you, darling?" he asked, trying to joke but was clearly affected.

"That was my type forever ago, Suguru," you told him, earnestly taking hold of his hand that was resting on the tabletop. "You've been the only man for me ever since I met you. No one can compare to your beauty."

"Hmm," he mused, taking a slow sip of his drink, "I must say I enjoy hearing you praise me in such a way. All is forgiven."

"Good. I will love only you for the rest of my days, no matter how many round faced, blonde haired men try to whisk me away."

You witnessed his fingers tighten around the tea cup in his grasp. "I'd like to see them try."

Nanami:

“…men with long, dark hair and blue eyes.”

You paid no mind to your friend's words, knowing they were just reminiscing over something silly before they left. Kento, on the other hand, was busy spiraling as he ate his croissant.

"Everything okay?" you asked him, noticing the faraway look in his eyes.

“Do you not… find me attractive?”

You almost spit out your drink in shock. "I'm sorry?"

He wore a sheepish expression. "Your friend said that your type was men with long, dark hair and blue eyes. I don't fit that description at all."

"My "type" that they brought up was from many, many years ago," you said, rubbing your thumb against his hand to console him. "The only thing I find attractive now, after having met you, is a certain Kento Nanami. Brown eyes, short blonde hair, and all."

"I'm sorry for getting worked up over nothing," he said.

"You don't have to apologize for that," you told him, "it just shows how much you truly care. I love you for that."

You gave him a small peck on the lips before you two went back to savoring your time together.

Choso:

“…super preppy guys with blonde hair and green eyes.”

The only thing that ran through Choso's mind was confusion.

"I don't look anything like that," he uttered suddenly, tilting his head.

"I know, I was into those kinds of guys years ago," you confessed.

"But not anymore?" he asked with a hopeful lilt in his tone.

"Not anymore," you confirmed, sending him a small smile to ease his nerves that were noticeably running rampant at the thought that you didn't find him attractive. "My type now is guys with dark hair in two buns and an adorable black mark across their nose."

Choso let out a relieved sigh as you giggled and continued eating your food.

Toji:

“…short men with long blonde hair.”

As soon as your friend got up from the table, Toji had a disgruntled expression on his face. "Care to add anything to that?"

"I liked guys who looked like that when I talked to my friend last, which was, admittedly, a very long time ago," you explained, getting a grunt of displeasure in response. "And then I met you and I realized what my actual type was."

"And what's that?" he asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

You leaned in over the table, getting as close as you could to your handsome boyfriend.

"A real man," you all but whispered, eyeing him playfully. Toji's eyes widened ever so slightly before falling back into place, his lips transforming to a smirk.

"Sounds like your friend had it all wrong, then," he replied, winking at you.

#yuji itadori x reader #megumi x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #inumaki x reader #noritoshi kamo x reader #aoi todo x reader #takuma ino x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #choso x reader #toji x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x reader fluff #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x gn!reader #jjk x y/n

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starsjulia · 5 months ago

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rekindling us // leah williamson

a/n : based of this request!! also so sorry it’s short, school is currently consuming my being.

trigger warnings : accidental mistreatment of spouse? idk

You weren’t a footballer like Leah. You had your own passions, your own world, but you had always been her biggest supporter. Whenever Leah was exhausted after a long day, you’d make sure the house was tidy, cook her favorite meals, and offer her the kind of quiet comfort that came without asking. You didn’t need her to tell you how much she appreciated you—you believed her actions would show it. But lately, the actions weren’t there. The little things had faded away.

Leah was constantly missing plans. The dates you had carefully planned together were brushed off with a casual “Sorry, training went long,” or “I got caught up with the girls, we’ll do it next time.” You understood, at first. You knew how demanding her schedule was, how much her career meant to her. But the cancellations became more frequent, the nights spent waiting for her to come home stretched longer, and slowly, without even realizing it, you began to feel invisible.

You continued to put in the effort, thinking maybe she would notice if you worked harder. You took on even more around the house, making sure Leah didn’t have to lift a finger when she was home. But Leah barely acknowledged it. She was so wrapped up in her own world that she didn’t see how much you were doing, or how much it hurt to be overlooked.

One evening, you decided to make a special dinner. You knew Leah had been under a lot of stress lately, so you thought a quiet evening together would help her unwind. You spent hours preparing a dish (other than party food) that you knew she’d enjoy, setting the table with candles and soft music, hoping it would be a reminder of the love and connection you shared.

But Leah didn’t come home on time. As the hours ticked by, the food grew cold, and your heart sank. When she finally walked through the door, she didn’t even notice the effort you had put in. She tossed her bag on the chair and casually said, “Sorry I’m late. The girls wanted to grab a drink after training.”

You tried to hold it together, but the disappointment was overwhelming. She had forgotten, again. Forgotten the evening you’d planned, forgotten how much you’d been waiting for her. Without saying a word, you got up and went to the bedroom, tears stinging your eyes.

Leah, oblivious at first, finally noticed the candles, the untouched dinner, the quiet emptiness in the room. Her stomach twisted with guilt as she realized she had let you down again. She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before making her way to the bedroom.

She found you sitting on the edge of the bed, tears streaming down your face as you hugged your knees to your chest. The sight of you so upset shattered her. She had never seen you like this before, and it hit her hard—how much she had been neglecting you without even realizing it.

“Babe…” Leah’s voice was soft, full of regret. She knelt beside the bed, reaching for your hand, but you pulled away slightly, hurt and frustration etched into every movement.

“Do you even care anymore?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been trying so hard, Leah. I cook for you, clean for you, wait for you—just to spend a little time with you. But it feels like I’m not even a part of your life anymore. Like you don’t see me.”

Leah’s heart clenched painfully. She hadn’t realized how much her actions had been hurting you. She had been so focused on her career, thinking you’d understand, that she had failed to see how much you were giving and how little she had been offering in return.

“I… I didn’t know,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. “I didn’t see how much I was hurting you, and I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, wiping at the tears on your cheeks. “I feel like I’m doing everything for you, and it’s never enough. I just want to feel like I matter to you. Like I’m more than just someone waiting at home for you.”

Leah’s breath hitched as she took your hands in hers, holding them tightly, as if afraid to let go. “You do matter. You matter more than anything, and I’ve been too caught up in everything else to show you that. I’ve been taking you for granted, and I’m so, so sorry for that. You deserve so much more than what I’ve been giving.”

Your tears fell freely now, but this time, Leah didn’t let go. She pulled you into her arms, holding you close as if trying to make up for all the times she hadn’t. “I’m sorry for missing our dates, for not being there when you needed me. I’ve been selfish, thinking you’d just understand, but that’s not fair. I love you more than anything, and I’m going to show you that. I’ll do better. I’ll be better.”

You sobbed into her chest, the weight of everything you’d been carrying finally spilling out. “I just miss us, Leah. I miss what we used to have.”

“I miss us too,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “And I’m going to make it right. I’ll make sure you never feel like this again. I love you, and I can’t lose you. Not over something like this.”

You stayed there for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the silence between you no longer filled with pain but with the promise of something better. Leah’s apologies weren’t just words; you could feel the sincerity in the way she held you, in the way she promised to be more present, more aware.

In the days that followed, Leah kept her word. She made more time for you—whether it was something as simple as cooking dinner together or making sure you had a proper date night each week. She paid attention to the little things, the ones she had overlooked before. Every day, she made sure you felt loved, cherished, and appreciated.

The connection you shared began to heal, piece by piece. Leah started to see just how much you did for her, and she didn’t let a day go by without thanking you. She showed up for you, not just physically, but emotionally, and you could feel the shift in your relationship.

Leah would wrap her arms around you from behind while you cooked, pressing soft kisses to your neck and whispering, “Thank you. For everything you do. I love you so much.” You’d smile, feeling the warmth of her love and knowing she truly meant it.

It wasn’t long before you both found your rhythm again. The love between you was stronger now, forged through the realization of what truly mattered. Leah’s career would always be important, but she had finally learned that the most important part of her life was you—the person who had stood by her, supported her, and loved her through everything.

And from that point on, Leah made sure that you always knew just how much you meant to her. Because, in the end, no match, no trophy, no accolade could ever compare to the love she had with you. You were her heart, her home, and she would never let you forget it again.

#leah williamson #leah williamson imagines #leah williamson one shot #leah williamson x reader #woso #woso imagine #leah williamson x you #leah williamson fluff #angst #leah williamson angst

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alwaysmicado · 5 months ago

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Nightcall

10.4k | 18+ MDNI | Marc Spector x f!reader

Moon Knight Masterlist | AO3

Warnings: angst, smut, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected piv, biting, rough & emotionally intense sex, multiple orgasms, possessive!Marc, choking, spitting, creampie, toxic dynamic Summary: Marc is a bad habit you can’t shake. A/N: This idea has been haunting my dreams like Marc has been haunting reader’s. And just like reader, I couldn’t resist the allure of this elusive, rugged, and devastatingly addictive man. Could you? Happy reading (even though it hurts) and let me know what you think! *Marc lifts & flips you with ease (he’s MK, duh). Dividers by @/cafekitsune.

One year.

It’s been one year since you’ve last seen him.

One whole year of wondering where he is, if he’s left for good this time, if he’s even still alive.

You’ve tried to fill the void in your heart, started smoking again, gave the nice guy from the coffee shop down the block a chance. He’s kind to you, makes you laugh, brings you flowers, and you think you could grow to love him.

You’re trying.

You’re trying so hard.

To forget, to forgive, to heal, to live.

And now he’s back. In your life, standing at your door at 1 a.m.

Marc Spector.

The bane of your existence.

You were lounging on your couch in your pajamas mere moments ago, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows on the walls, when a knock at the door shattered the peace you’d begun to find. Your heart stopped, your head jerking towards the door.

It couldn’t be.

You heard his voice, rough and familiar, sending a jolt through your entire being.

“It’s me,” he said, his voice muffled but unmistakable.

You stood, your legs trembling, walking closer to the door in a trance, bare feet on the wooden floor, your hand hovering over the doorknob. You didn’t answer, but you couldn’t tear yourself away.

He was alive. He came back.

Marc came back to you.

What now?

Taking a deep breath, you look through the peephole, and your heart flutters when you see his face. He looks as handsome as ever, broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his t-shirt, dark curls hidden under a baseball cap, beard stubble a little grayer than the last time you’ve seen him.

But there’s a weariness in his eyes, a deep exhaustion that pulls at your heartstrings.

He’s tired.

You know he is.

He’s told you in the rare moments he’d let you in, your sweat-covered bodies tangled in your bed, his fingers brushing over your cheek.

You’d see a spark of something in his warm eyes then. Something akin to sadness, longing, regret. But it would disappear after a few seconds, and he’d harden again, turning around to gather his clothes, telling you he needed to go.

You’d find new scars on his body every time he came to see you. He’d show up with barely scabbed-over cuts, a black eye, a dislocated shoulder, a split lip. And you’d patch him up, kissing it all better.

You stopped asking how he got his injuries some time ago. He’d always give you the same answer anyway.

“Just a scratch, baby. Nothing to worry your pretty head about.”

Whatever it is that keeps him going, it has more power over him than you ever will.

Tears blur your vision, and you slide down the door, sitting with your back against it. You want to stay strong, to remember the pain he’s caused you, but his words cut through your resolve like a knife.

“Come on, let me in. I came all this way to see you.”

It feels like he’s been out there for hours, but you know it can’t have been more than two minutes. Why is this happening?

“Let me in, Sunshine. Please.”

You blink back tears, shaking your head even though he can’t see you, your hands balled into fists, fingernails digging into your palms.

Every time.

Every time, he rips open the wounds he inflicted on you, and you know this time won’t be any different. You want to resist him, want to tell him to go to hell, that he can’t keep doing this to you, that you’ve finally had enough.

But you can’t do it, can you?

Resist Marc.

You both know you can’t. And deep down, under all the bullshit you like to tell yourself, under all the anger, under all the resentment, you know you don’t want to.

You never did.

Going for a smoke outside the bar, goosebumps forming on your bare arms as the wind blew and the rain fell, your feet sore from being caged in high heels for hours, the only thing you wanted was a minute of quiet, a minute where you didn’t have to smile or act like you were having fun.

You were tired—tired of the noise, tired of the people, tired of the pretense.

All you wanted was a moment of peace.

“Shit,” you muttered, staring at your lighter in disbelief as it refused to spark, tears of sheer frustration pricking the corners of your eyes. Leaning against the cool brick wall, you let your head fall back, eyes closed, trying to shut out the world.

How did it get like this? How did you get like this?

Deep down, you know you don’t have anyone to blame but yourself. The problem is you. Not the world, not your parents, not the shitty things that have happened to you. It’s you. It’s always been you.

“Need a light?” a voice cut through the rain, smooth and unexpected.

You opened your eyes slightly, just enough to see a stranger standing a few feet away. “Yeah, mine apparently hates me,” you replied, lifting the offending object.

The man chuckled, a warm sound that contrasted with the cold night. “Here,” he said, stepping closer. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief, his smirk stirring something inside you. “I got you, Sunshine.”

He pulled out a sleek silver lighter, flicking it open with practiced ease, producing a small, steady flame. You put your cigarette between your lips, leaning in to catch the light. His eyes never left yours, a connection forming in that brief moment. He then lit his own cigarette, taking a drag.

The first inhale of nicotine calmed your nerves slightly, a welcome distraction from the chaos inside your mind. “Thanks,” you muttered, leaning back against the wall and savoring the moment of quiet.

“No problem,” he nodded, staring into the surrounding darkness.

He was closer now, leaning against the wall next to you, his presence oddly comforting.

“Rough night?”

“You could say that.” You let out a dry laugh, glancing at him. He was handsome in a rugged way—dark curls, full lips, broad chest, with a confident air that was alluring. “What about you?”

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “Rough night.”

You studied him for a moment, noting the gentle curve of his nose and the laugh lines in the outer corner of his eyes. You also noticed his split knuckles in the neon glow of the party lights hanging above.

“I guess we’re both running from something,” you said softly, taking another drag of your cigarette.

“Is that so?” He smiled at you with a raised eyebrow and you smiled back. “I’m Marc, by the way.”

You gave him your name and shook his hand, feeling a strange jolt at the contact. “Nice to meet you, Marc. Thanks for the light.”

“Anytime,” he said, his expression turning pensive.

You both smoked in silence for a while, the rain a soothing backdrop to your thoughts.

When your cigarettes were nearly finished, Marc turned towards you, his movements smooth and deliberate. He leaned in, his hand bracing against the wall next to your head, bringing his face and body close to yours, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asked, his eyes dropping from your eyes to your lips with unmistakable intent.

You hesitated for a second, brow furrowed, thoughts swirling. The rain fell around you in a soft patter. You searched his eyes and found something, something that promised a temporary escape from your hollow existence.

You didn’t have anything to lose.

“Yeah,” you said, putting out your cigarette with your shoe.

You ended the night with him on top of you, in your bed, all your troubles wiped away for a couple of hours. His hands roamed your body with a hunger that matched your own, and for the first time in a long while, you felt alive.

You thought it was just a one-night stand since he left as soon as you both came down, and you fell asleep, spent and satisfied.

Until he showed up at your door late at night, two weeks later.

There he was, standing in the hallway with that same charming smile, holding up a pack of cigarettes and his silver lighter. “Mind if I come in?” he asked, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

And that’s how it all started. This…thing you have going on.

“I missed you,” he’d whisper in your ear, his voice rough with longing as he was buried deep inside of you. “My beautiful girl.”

Those words would wrap around your heart, suffusing you with a warmth that felt like everything you had ever wanted. In those fleeting moments, it was as if all the pain and uncertainty melted away, leaving only the intoxicating sensation of being cherished, if only for a little while. But then, like always, he would leave, and the cold reality would set in.

He would tell you he couldn’t stay, but not why. His eyes would darken with unspoken burdens, and he’d brush a kiss against your forehead, promising he’d be back.

Yet, he never told you it was for your safety. He never mentioned the shadows that lurked around him, the dangers he faced on a daily basis. He didn’t tell you about the battles he fought, tooth and nail, just to carve out a few hours to be with you.

He didn’t tell you any of this, and after some time, you stopped asking. The questions died on your lips, replaced by a resigned acceptance. You accepted that you’d never be more to Marc than a brief escape, a distraction from whatever demons haunted him.

Well, your brain did.

But not your heart.

Your heart clung to every whispered endearment, every stolen touch, every heated kiss that promised more than he could ever give. Your heart held onto the belief that maybe, just maybe, one day he’d stay. That one day, this torturous cycle of brief encounters and long absences would end.

You’d lie in bed after he left, the sheets still warm from his presence, his scent lingering in the air. You’d replay the moments in your mind, his whispered words, the way he looked at you as if you were his salvation. You’d clutch your pillow, trying to hold onto the ghost of his touch, knowing that come morning, the loneliness would creep back in.

Every time he returned, it was like a balm to your wounded soul. He’d pull you into his arms, his kiss desperate, as if he was drowning and you were his only breath of air.

And for those precious hours, you’d let yourself believe that you were his beautiful girl, his light in a world filled with darkness, that he needed you as much as you needed him.

He’d leave again, the door closing softly behind him, and you’d be left alone. You’d tell yourself that it was enough, that these stolen moments were worth the heartache.

But deep down, you knew it wasn’t.

You always knew that your heart was breaking a little more each time he walked away.

And you know now that any resolve you’ve built up over the past year will crumble the second you open the door and look into his eyes.

It’s always the same.

No matter how sick and tired you are of his careless behavior, no matter how many times he chews you up and spits you out, no matter how many nights you spend crying over him, mourning him, cursing him, self-hatred wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket.

You let him in. You let him do this to you.

Because you love him. Because you’re a fool.

Slowly, reluctantly, you stand, heart pounding, blood rushing in your ears. You sigh deeply, and before you can stop yourself, your hand turns the knob, opening the door just a crack.

Marc pushes the door open wider, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment, and before you realize what’s happening, his cap is on the floor and his lips are on yours. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close as he kicks the door shut behind him. He spins you around, pressing you against the wall with a desperate need that makes you dizzy.

“I missed you, Sunshine,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands roaming your body.

“Don’t call me that,” you protest, your palms pressed against his pecs.

He smiles. “But it’s who you are. My Sunshine.”

“I’m not your anything, Marc,” you hiss, trying to push him away. He doesn’t budge. “I’m a warm body for you to fuck. That’s it.”

“That’s not all you are to me,” he says without missing a beat, brows furrowed, thumb brushing over your lower lip with a maddening gentleness. “Why so hostile, Sunshine? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

There it is. That damn look. Concern, care, and hunger, all mingling in his eyes, breaking down your defenses bit by bit.

“Are you fucking kidding, Marc?” you snap, snatching his wrist to stop him from touching you. “You–you were gone for a year. No goodbye, no message, no nothing.”

His gaze doesn’t waver as he cups your face with both hands, and despite yourself, you let go of his wrist.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” The warmth in his eyes and the soft smile on his lips make you want to throw up. You turn your head, your chest heaving.

He gently but firmly pushes your head back, his hands still cradling your face, forcing you to meet his gaze once more. His grip is firm but not painful, a reminder of his strength and control—the same strength that has always thrilled you.

“Hey,” he says softly, his eyes boring into yours, pleading. “I’m here now.”

You’re stunned, frozen in place like a deer in headlights, about to be run over.

It’s too late for you.

All you see is him, the man who has torn your heart to pieces and yet somehow still holds it in his hands.

The world narrows to the space between you, and the chaos of your mind falls silent. You’re ready to die in this moment if it means feeling his touch again.

You give an almost imperceptible nod, a surrender, and his lips are on yours instantly.

The kiss is desperate, a clash of lust and guilt, his mouth moving against yours with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. His hands move down your sides to your waist, pulling you closer as if he can’t bear the distance between you for even a second longer.

You moan into his mouth, your body responding to his touch despite your mind’s protests. Your arms wrap around him, pulling him even closer, needing to feel every inch of him against you. The taste of him is intoxicating, a mix of smoke and mint, and it floods your senses, drowning out the pain, the questions, the doubts.

Marc’s hands urgently explore the contours of your back, pressing you against him, reveling in your scent. You can feel the hard lines of his body, the heat of his skin, and it’s all too much and not enough at the same time. Your back hits the wall again, and he pins you there, his mouth leaving yours to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

One hand finds your breast, groping it for a moment, palm rubbing against your hard nipple, his touch needy and rough. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, his name escaping your lips in a broken whisper. He groans in response, the sound vibrating against your skin.

Impatient, his fingers hook into the waistband of your pajama pants, yanking them down along with your panties with practiced ease. You step out of them, exposed, his leg pressing against your core.

You can’t help but buck your hips against him, your body moving on its own accord, driven by pent-up desire and anger. Your hands fist his shirt, gripping the fabric tightly as if it’s the only thing anchoring you to reality. His hands are on your ass, kneading your flesh with possessive urgency, each squeeze sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

Marc’s mouth is everywhere, hot and insistent, licking a slow, deliberate stripe from behind your ear down your neck. The sensation makes you gasp, your back arching. He sucks and nips at your skin, frenzied and desperate, leaving a trail of bruises that mark you as his, each one a bittersweet reminder of the fleeting connection you share.

The contrast between the roughness of his hands and the wet heat of his mouth drives you wild, every touch igniting a fire inside you that you can’t control.

“Marc,” you moan, your voice a mix of frustration and need. Your nails dig into his shoulders, pulling him closer, urging him on. He responds with a growl, his teeth grazing your neck before biting down, the sharp pain making you gasp.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with desire. His hands grip your ass harder, lifting your leg slightly so he can grind against you, his hardness pressing against your core, sending waves of pleasure through you.

You throw your head back, giving him better access to your neck as he continues to lick, suck, and bite with abandon, each mark he leaves on your skin feeling like a brand, a claim that you both know will fade but never truly disappear.

“More,” you whisper, your breathing shallow. “Please, I need more.” You reach between your bodies, sliding your hand down his hard torso, rubbing his bulge over the rough fabric of his jeans.

Marc groans and pulls back just enough to look into your glazed-over eyes, his own filled with lust and something deeper, something that makes your heart ache. “I’ll give you everything, baby,” he promises, his hands moving to cup your face as he kisses you again, his lips searing and demanding.

You can feel the truth in his words, even if only for this moment, and you let yourself believe it.

He bites your bottom lip and pulls back with a growl, dropping to his knees, spreading your thighs and pressing his mouth to your core. Your brain takes a few seconds to catch up with what’s happening, your mind foggy, your heart racing.

“Marc, wait,” you gasp, your hands tangling in his hair as his tongue flicks out, teasing your aching clit. “I haven’t—oh fuck—I haven’t showered.”

“I don’t care,” he murmurs, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin.

The sensation is overwhelming, his tongue lapping at your folds with a hunger that makes your knees weak. You gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily against his face. He groans in response, reveling in the scent and wetness you’re spreading all over his face, cursing under his breath as his cock strains against the inside of his jeans.

His hands tighten their grip on your thighs, holding you open for him, keeping you steady as his tongue and lips work with practiced precision to make you lose control.

Your head falls back, hitting the wall with a dull thud, but you barely notice. Every flick of his tongue, every suck on your clit sends waves of pleasure crashing through you. Your hands tighten in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more, fingernails scraping his scalp.

“Marc,” you moan, your voice a mix of desperation and bliss, your body trembling under this relentless, sweet torture. “Oh fuck, Marc.”

Hearing you moan his name is like gasoline on a fire, fueling his desire.

“God, you taste so good,” he pants against your skin, his voice filled with raw need, drunk with lust. “Always so fucking perfect.”

Your body trembles as he hums against you, his tongue alternating between slow, teasing licks and fast, desperate flicks before sucking on your swollen clit again.

You can feel the tension building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter with each passing second.

“Please,” you beg, your voice a shaky whisper. “I need you inside me.”

He responds without hesitation, his tongue plunging into your wet heat, tasting you, drinking you, fucking you with ruthless intensity. You cry out, your back arching off the wall as the pleasure becomes almost too much to bear. He replaces his tongue with his middle and ring fingers, sliding them inside you, curling them just right, hitting that perfect spot. His mouth devours you simultaneously, desperately, like a man starved.

Your hips buck harder, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he finger-fucks you in rhythm with his licks. The dual assault of his tongue and fingers is overwhelming, pushing you ever closer to the edge.

Your nails rake across his scalp, and he groans against you, the vibrations sending ripples of ecstasy through your core.

You can barely form a coherent thought, your mind hazy as you can’t hold back the moans escaping your lips. Marc starts sucking on your clit with renewed vigor, the sensation sending you spiraling. You’re on the brink, the tension inside you coiled so tightly it’s about to snap.

The wet sounds of your pussy fill the air, blending with the rhythmic beat of your heart pounding in your chest. He can feel your body tensing, the telltale signs of your impending climax, and it drives him wild.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Fuck, I’m gonna–”

You don’t get to finish the sentence before you shatter into a million pieces, every nerve ending ablaze with euphoric release. Marc doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, holding onto your hip, continuing to lap at you and move his fingers, drawing out every last tremor until you’re left trembling and spent.

For a brief, blissful moment, you feel pure, unadulterated happiness, your fingers absentmindedly running through Marc’s hair. But as reality slowly sets back in, your living room coming back into view, Marc’s mouth on your core starting to become uncomfortable, the weight of what just happened begins to dawn on you. Your eyes meet his, and you feel it all crashing down on you—confusion, heartache, regret.

Marc finally pulls back, his face and fingers glistening with your arousal, a satisfied, almost smug grin on his lips.

He stands, his hands finding your cheeks as he presses his wet lips against yours, sliding his tongue inside. You close your eyes and wrap your arms around his waist, tasting yourself on his lips, your body buzzing with the aftermath of your orgasm.

“You miss me?” he whispers against your lips before pulling back enough to look into your wide eyes. The warmth of his breath mingles with yours, and his gaze is filled with an intensity that makes your heart clench painfully.

The casualness of his question tears at you, as if you had seen each other just yesterday, as if he hadn’t just given you an earth-shattering orgasm after crushing your heart with his bare hands.

And all after you swore to yourself you’d never let him do this again.

You want to hate him, you really do. But how could you? He came back from the dead to see you. You know he needs you right now, so how could you deny him?

You nod, feeling tears well up in your eyes, swallowing heavily. “Always,” you whisper, your voice breaking with emotion.

A smile spreads across Marc’s lips, his eyes softening for a moment, and he captures your lips in a deep, fervent kiss again, as if trying to convey everything he can’t put into words. Then, with a gentle but firm grip, he lifts you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. You cling to him, head buried in the crook of his neck, your hands gripping his shoulders as he carries you towards your bedroom.

He clocks the bouquet of pink roses on your dining room table, notices the little card standing next to the vase. There’s a strawberry drawn on the front, but it’s too dark for him to read what he just assumes to be a lame pun about loving you ‘berry’ much.

How cute.

Marc lays you down on the bed, his body pressed against yours, trailing kisses down your neck. You wrap your legs around his waist again, rubbing yourself against his bulge, impatient, hands tangled in his curls.

“Not yet, baby,” he whispers in your ear, nibbling on your earlobe, reveling in the needy noises you make, how you squirm under him, trying to get him to move and give you what you want.

He will. But first, he wants to look at you—at your beautiful body, every inch of your skin.

He gets off the bed and you scoot back, fluffing up your pillows and leaning against them with your back. You watch as Marc turns on the bedside lamp and removes his shirt, revealing the hard lines of his muscles and the scars that tell the story of battles you’re clueless about. He kicks off his shoes, his eyes never leaving yours. When he unbuckles his belt, ready to pull his pants down and fuck you already, his eyes drop down to your wet pussy, and he decides differently.

“Take off your shirt and show me how you played with yourself while I was away.”

Your hands tremble slightly as you pull your shirt over your head, your skin prickling with anticipation. You feel exposed, vulnerable, but the look in Marc’s eyes makes you feel desired, wanted. You spread your legs wide and slide your hand down your body, your fingers finding your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. Your other hand moves to your breast, teasing your nipple, and you let out a soft moan, your eyes locked on Marc.

His gaze darkens with lust as he watches you, jeans on the floor, spitting in his hand, wrapping it around his cock, stroking himself slowly. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with need. “Keep going.”

God, how much he wants to bury himself deep inside of you, to feel your warm, wet pussy pulsing around his cock, to fuck all his frustrations into you, to hear your sweet moans, to feel your soft skin pressed against his.

It’s all he wants.

All he can think about when he’s away from you. All he needs in nights like this.

You increase the pace of your fingers, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the pleasure builds. Marc’s eyes don’t leave you for a second, his hand moving faster on his cock, mirroring the rhythm of your movements.

“You have no idea how much I missed this,” he pants. “Missed you.”

Fuelled by his poisonous words, your hips buck against your hand, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core. “Marc,” you moan, your voice a desperate plea. “I’m close.”

His eyes burn into yours as he moves swiftly, crawling onto the bed and positioning himself between your legs. He nudges your hand away and replaces it with his own, his fingers sliding inside you in one smooth motion, his thumb rubbing your clit.

“Let go, baby. Come for me.”

And with his words, you shatter, your orgasm crashing over you in waves, your pussy clamping down around his fingers, pulsating, your hands gripping the sheets. Marc watches you intently, his own breath ragged, cock throbbing so close to your dripping hole.

The ecstatic feeling coursing through you turns into uncomfortable overstimulation quickly, so you grab his wrist, and he withdraws his fingers, giving you a moment to come down.

You look so fucking gorgeous like this. Eyes glazed over, looking at him like he’s all you see, like he’s all you need. But as Marc holds your gaze, your chest rising and falling, he also sees something else in your big, beautiful eyes.

Sadness.

It’s a deep sadness he knows he’s responsible for—a sadness that cuts through the layers of detachment, apathy, and composure he’s built up to survive the trials in his life. Despite everything, there remains a gentle, tender part hidden deep inside him. A part that makes him vulnerable, scared, and like he could be the man you need…if only things were different.

“My Sunshine,” he says softly, his knuckles brushing over your hot cheek. The tenderness in his touch contrasts sharply with the storm of emotions inside him. He leans over you, and the kiss he presses on your lips is soft, oh so soft.

It’s intense. Intense and unexpected.

It’s easier to push aside your feelings when he’s rough with you. It’s easier to tell yourself you’re just two lonely people fucking to feel a little less lonely if all you can focus on is your body.

But then he pulls shit like this and it gives you hope that you might mean something to him. And after years of asking yourself if he’s just an asshole who gets off on playing mind games, or if he doesn’t care enough to realize what he’s doing is killing you, you’re not sure you want to know the answer.

Marc pulls you out of your thoughts when he releases your lips and pulls back slightly, his eyes darkening with a different kind of intensity as he traces your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Open your mouth.”

You obey, parting your lips, your breath hitching in anticipation. Marc lets a strand of spit drop into your mouth, slowly, deliberately, watching as it lands in the back of your throat, and you swallow it without hesitation.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire, kissing and nibbling on your jaw, your neck, down to your breast, circling your nipple with the tip of his tongue before sucking it into his eager mouth.

“Marc…” you whine, looking down, threading your fingers through his disheveled hair, your heart pounding. You let yourself get lost in him, in the way he touches you, in the way he makes you feel alive. And as you do, you can’t stop the words tumbling from your lips.

“Please stay.”

Marc pauses, his mouth still on your breast, his body tensing. He releases your nipple and looks up at you, his brow furrowing at your watery eyes.

He hates to see you like this.

“You know I can’t,” he says, his calm voice betraying none of the guilt that’s clawing at his heart, making it hard for him to breathe.

But he can’t comfort you. Not now. Not when you’re supposed to be his salvation. Not when he knows it’d be a lie.

He sits back on his heels between your spread legs, his eyes never leaving yours as he pumps his painfully hard cock.

“Why?” you whisper, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “Why?”

Marc leans over you, arms braced next to your head, capturing your quivering lips with his, preventing you from making him feel worse than he already does.

You moan into his mouth and he can’t wait anymore. Needs to be inside you. Needs to make it all right.

He shifts in closer, pressing his cock against you, just sliding it between your folds, up and down, letting out a raspy sigh at the friction of it. His cock gathers your wetness quickly—you’re always so fucking wet for him.

Before falling asleep on whatever cot he’d find himself on, he’d sometimes allow himself to fantasize about waking up next to you, feeling your warm body, hearing your soft breathing, sliding his hand down the front of your panties, and feeling how wet you are from dreaming about him.

His breath catches in his throat just thinking about it.

“Marc…” you plead, and he smiles to himself—it usually takes far longer for you to start begging, so it must mean you really missed him. You squirm again, hips twisting like you’re trying to get him inside you, and he watches you intently, soaking up every little expression, every little moan, every little plea.

“What do you want, baby?” he murmurs, dragging it out just a little bit longer. He loves to hear you, loves to get you to admit it. For you, the truth is in the action of it, but he likes to listen to you say it out loud.

“You,” you moan desperately. “I need you, Marc. I missed you so fucking much, I can’t take it anymore.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs with an imperceptible smile.

“Uh-huh,” you nod, staring up into his eyes.

Marc’s cock twitches at the genuine need he can see in your eyes, the sight like a potent drug going straight to his brain and filling him with more bliss than anything else could. He knows what you like, knows what buttons to push, knows exactly how to touch you to make you forget the world around you.

It makes him feel good to make you feel good. It always has.

And it’s more than the gratification of feeling your pussy pulsating around his cock or hearing you scream his name while your orgasm overtakes you. It’s more than his pride, his ego, his need to feel like he’s doing good for once in his life.

It’s you.

It’s his misguided effort to make up for all his misdeeds. His atonement. He tells himself it’s enough for him to fuck your brains out, to pour all of himself into you without inhibitions while he’s with you to offset his absence.

He tells himself that, holds onto it—needs it to be true.

“Please…” you whine, and he pushes up against your clit, feeling the pulse of it. You shudder at the intensity, the pressure, and he grins. “Fuck. Fuck me.”

“Dirty mouth,” he chides, and you whine in frustration as he brings his hand up, pressing one finger to your slightly parted lips. You open them wider, suck his finger in, suckle for a moment and then bite.

“Fuck me,” you demand, voice muffled and tongue pressing against his fingertip, wet and warm.

Your teeth loosen up and he slides his finger deeper, right to the back of your tongue. You don’t gag, just stare him down defiantly, and he can’t wait any longer. He reaches down with his other hand, guides himself to your entrance, cock pushing deep into the tight heat of you, as slow as he can stand it.

You’re so fucking good.

His head starts to roll back instinctively, but he holds it steady and slides his hand over to your hip, gripping your flesh as his cock splits you open.

When he’s fully sheathed inside of you, you let out a low moan, brows furrowing, throwing your head back against the pillows. He pulls back a little only to drive right back in, hard, and this time you moan a hell of a lot louder. Quickly, he stifles the sound with his palm, pressing his hand right over your mouth—not because he doesn’t want to hear you. No, because he knows it heightens your pleasure.

Your resulting moans are muffled against his hand as you start trying to meet his thrusts, your hips working towards him, desperate for it. You love it when he smothers you like this, love feeling his big hand over your face.

He first discovered the power of it when you were arguing about something silly and you wouldn’t shut up—he did it jokingly, only to be surprised when you immediately fell silent. You didn’t even push him away or do anything obnoxious like lick his palm; you just went totally compliant. It was an instant reaction, as though it was something your body was conditioned to obey.

He grips your hip, feeling your soft skin against his palm, his other hand covering your mouth as he thrusts into you hard, until the bed is rocking rhythmically against the wall. The hand on your hip slides higher, over your belly, groping your breast, pinching your hard nipple. His other hand slips from your mouth and you’re panting now, your face hot and almost grimacing, your whole body taut and tense for him.

But then his hands meet at your throat, and you go limp, your lips stretching into an exhausted smile. He keeps his hands still, just on either side of your neck, curled around your shoulders, his thumbs across your collarbones.

“Go on,” you say breathlessly, biting your lip in anticipation, lifting up your head in order to strain a little against his hands. He says nothing, smiling wickedly back at you, his hips working shallowly, cock thrusting against your G-spot.

“Go on,” you whine, impatient, and he wants to say, “What?” and grin sardonically and make you beg for it, but he’s too greedy, eager just like you are.

He wraps his fingers around your throat and squeezes, quick and sudden, watching your pupils dilate and your lips fall open. You’d let him choke you to death if he wasn’t careful, he’s sure—you get so fucking caught up in it—so he has to be vigilant, letting go when you look like you’re about to pass out.

It’s difficult to judge, though. You look blissed out already, and he can feel your tendons working against his fingers as he jabs his thumb just under your jaw, tightening his grip. You make these sounds—gasps at first, and then little choking coughs, your throat all raw, and all the while he’s thrusting into you, hard and fast.

He eases off a second, lets you catch your breath, and you draw it in, hoarse and gasping, looking dazed. Almost high.

You jerk your chin at him as if to say, “C’mon, again, what are you waiting for?” and he complies, one hand this time, big enough to reach quite a way around your neck. His other hand snakes down the center of you, down between your legs, along your hot skin to where he disappears inside, your slick folds parting to let him in. He teases with his fingers, finds your clit, gentle there even as he’s gripping your throat so tight he’ll probably leave marks.

You buck wildly against him and he holds you down, grinning, relentless, finger flickering over your clit as he fucks you, chokes you, brings you closer and closer to the edge—

He feels your fingers digging into his shoulders, his back, then his arms, grabbing frantically at him as your whole body tenses, and you’re spluttering out a desperate, “Yes, yes,” and then he feels that same clenching around his cock, a quick spasm, so tight he can’t help but groan.

You come with your eyes shut and your mouth open, and he keeps going a moment longer than he needs to, stroking you where you’re oversensitive, making you shake and squirm.

Marc lets go of your throat and takes ahold of your breast instead, chasing his own release, fucking you harder and harder and closing his eyes because you’re gazing at him in that way that chips away at his resolve.

“Slow down,” you suddenly whisper, so full of him, so desperate to keep it that way.

He slows down minimally. “Why?”

“I–I don’t want….” you trail off as he licks and sucks on your neck, his hand groping your breast. “Please, I don’t want it to end…”

He pulls back a little and just…smiles at you, that irritating smile that says, “You honestly still think you’re in control here?”

It wouldn’t bother you as much if you weren’t still processing that he’s actually here, flesh and blood, after abandoning you, and having the balls to act like the past year didn’t happen. Like he didn’t stab your heart and leave you to bleed out slowly.

“I know you don’t want me to slow down,” he pants in your ear as he picks up the pace again, alternating between shallow thrusts that hit your G-spot perfectly, and deep thrusts that make you gasp. “You want me to fuck you like your little boyfriend never could.”

You freeze. Marc’s labored breathing, the wet sounds of your pussy, the sound of rain coming from outside your window—it all becomes white noise as your brain catches up with what he just said to you.

And then something snaps inside you.

Something primal, violent, desperate.

You grab the nape of his neck and pull him down for a bruising kiss, biting his lips hard, tongue swirling around his, the taste of blood in your mouth making your head spin. Marc moans into your mouth, but he doesn’t stop you, doesn’t stop his own movements inside you.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer again, and you hate it. You fucking hate that he’s doing this to you. And you hate even more that you’re letting him.

He pulls away and buries his face in the crook of your neck, his bloody lips staining your shoulder. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you as your nails rake down his arms, leaving angry red trails in their wake. You claw at his back, holding onto him with all you have. He groans at the pain and looks into your eyes, reveling in the pure need he can see in them.

You see how much it turns him on to see you like this, and it makes you even angrier.

Marc leans in to kiss you again, but before you know what’s happening, your hand shoots up to his throat, fingers digging into his jaw, pushing his face away. He growls at you and tries to kiss you anyway, stubborn and unyielding, his lips brushing against yours despite your resistance. You buck your hips and twist your body, trying to dislodge him, your hands pushing and shoving at his chest and shoulders.

You manage to get one hand around his throat, squeezing as hard as you can, your nails digging into his skin. Marc groans, his breath hot against your face, but his grip on you doesn’t falter. He grabs your wrists, attempting to pin them above your head, but you fight back with all your strength, writhing beneath him, your legs kicking out, trying to find leverage to push him off.

“That’s enough,” he growls, his voice rough and intimidating as he finally manages to secure your wrists. “Calm do–”

You turn your head and bite the arm that’s pinning your wrist down, canines piercing the skin.

“Fuck,” Marc hisses through clenched teeth, his thrusts becoming rougher, more desperate, as if he’s trying to match your intensity, trying to make you feel the same pain you’re inflicting on him. The bed creaks with the force of your combined movements, the air thick with the sounds of your mutual anguish.

“You wanna hurt me, baby?” he pants as he lets go of your wrist and instead grabs your chin to force you to look at him.

“Yeah,” you whisper without hesitation, your pupils dilated, your voice dripping with venom and need.

Marc’s eyes darken with a mix of lust and something deeper, something almost like understanding. “Good,” he says simply, grabbing your ass and rolling you both over, so you can ride him. He pulls up the pillow behind his back, so he’s propped up and you can hold onto his shoulders. “Take what you need.”

He moves his hips slowly, tenderly almost, as if to tell you he’s done fighting with you and wants you to feel good. You’re not there yet, you’re still seeing red. Clawing at his chest, nails digging into his skin, leaving scratches that will take days to fade.

But it’s not enough. You need more. You need to make him feel the pain he’s caused, to make him understand what he’s put you through. You push his face away, his stubble grazing your palm, and he turns his head, biting down on your thumb, groaning at the taste of you. Spurred on by the sensation, your teeth find his shoulder, biting down hard enough to break the skin.

“Stop,” he grunts, the word strained, his cock twitching inside you. You don’t relent immediately, your teeth sinking deeper until he grabs your shoulders, trying to push you off.

Finally, he manages to grip your throat, not squeezing, but enough to make you stop. The pressure is firm, commanding, and it stills your movements. He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and desperation. “Enough,” he says with finality, his voice rough and low. “I want you to fuck me, not kill me.”

You stare down at him, your chest heaving, the raw emotion in his eyes grounding you. Slowly, you release your grip on his shoulders, the tension in your body easing as you adjust to the new position. His hand remains on your throat, a reminder of his control, but also of the thin line between pain and pleasure that you both walk.

You start to move, rocking your hips against him, swollen clit rubbing against his trimmed pubes, taking him deep inside you. His grip on your throat tightens just a fraction, enough to send a thrill through your body, but not enough to hurt. His other hand grips your hip, guiding your movements as you ride him, each thrust a release of the pent-up emotions that have been tearing you apart.

Mouth slightly agape, Marc’s eyes never leave yours, the connection between you intense and unbreakable. “That’s it, baby,” he murmurs. “Use me.”

And you do.

Your movements become increasingly more frantic, muscles tense, driven by a need to feel him, to feel that he’s really here with you.

“You left,” you pant, eyes piercing his, pleasure building inside you with every movement of your hips.

“Yeah, I did,” Marc replies, his tone unapologetic and infuriatingly calm. He lets go of your neck and cups your cheek instead, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over your cheekbone.

“I–I thought you were dead,” you choke out, tears stinging your eyes as you find the perfect pace, hands resting on his pecs. The pressure in your core builds, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

“You fucking asshole, I thought you were dead!” Your voice cracks as the hurt and anger that have been festering inside you pour out, mingling with the unbearable pleasure he’s giving you.

“I’m not dead, baby. I’m right here.” His voice is softer now, tinged with an edge of remorse. He accentuates his words with a powerful thrust of his hips, driving deep inside you. The sensation forces a moan from your lips, your anger momentarily drowned out.

The tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over, trailing down your cheeks as you ride him harder, your body seeking solace in the physical connection. You lean forward, your forehead resting against his, your breaths mingling, your eyes closed.

“I hate you,” you whisper. “I fucking hate you, Marc.”

His response is immediate, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he drives into you with renewed vigor. “I know, baby,” he pants. “I know you do.”

His words, combined with the relentless rhythm of his thrusts, push you closer to the brink. You hold onto his broad shoulders as your walls tightens around his cock, the muscles in your legs aching. The rush you’re experiencing is intoxicating, the line between pleasure and pain, love and hate blurring until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

As the pressure builds to an unbearable peak, you cling to him, your body trembling. “I need you,” you whine, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Please, I need you.”

“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmurs, his grip on you tightening. “I’ve got you.”

The words are a promise, a plea, and as your orgasm crashes over you, you feel a moment of clarity. Despite everything, despite the pain and the anger, he’s here. He’s with you.

You collapse against him, your body trembling with aftershocks, your breath coming in shallow gasps as tears stream down your cheeks. Marc wraps his strong arms around you, holding you tight as he chases his own release, his hips moving with relentless intensity. His breath is hot against your ear, his voice both a comfort and a torment.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he pants, too far gone to stop himself.

You’re lost in the moment, too out of it to hear him.

“Tell me,” he urges again, needing to hear you say it.

When you still don’t respond and he feels he can’t hold back any longer, he pulls your head back by the nape of your neck.

You look like you’re somewhere else entirely, flying high, eyes glassy.

“Hey,” he says sharply, slowing his thrusts down as much as he can physically stand it, searching your face until your gaze meets his.

“Huh?”

“Tell me you’re mine,” he repeats through gritted teeth, brow furrowed. “Please.”

His eyes are warm and you see him—the Marc who shared his favorite childhood recipe with you, the Marc who reassured you after your boss was an asshole to you, the Marc who made you laugh until your sides ached.

“I–I’m yours,” you whisper, the realization that it’s the truth breaking something inside you. “I’ve always been yours.”

Your words are like balm for his wounded soul, and he feels like he can finally let go. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours, Marc. I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours.”

“Fuck,” he groans, his thrusts becoming sloppy. He’s close. “I could–I could never stay away from you. Never.”

The confession slips out, raw and unfiltered, and it’s like a dagger to your heart. You bite down on his shoulder, trying to silence the sob that threatens to escape as he fucks you with everything he has.

“Gonna come, baby,” he pants. “Where do you want me?”

You feel like your body doesn’t belong to you, your mind foggy. But you know exactly where you want him, where you need him.

“Inside.”

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t.

But he’s here to give you everything he can. And he does, spilling his warm cum deep inside of you, his cock pulsing, hips stuttering as he groans your name.

Not baby.

Not Sunshine.

Your name.

He wraps his arms around you, softly, almost reverently, feeling your bare, sweat-covered skin against his palms. He holds you close like this for a moment before rolling you both over so he’s on top of you again, his cock still buried inside, his body slumping against yours.

Feeling his weight on you is grounding, soothing, calming you like nothing else in the world ever can. You try to absorb the feeling of his heartbeat against yours, knowing this moment of closeness won’t last. Marc usually doesn’t hold you for long after he’s fucked you.

You inhale his scent, draw shapes on his back with your fingertips, scratch his scalp softly, nudge his shoulder with your nose, press little kisses on his skin. Each touch is a silent plea for him to surprise you, to stay with you for a little bit longer.

He relaxes on top of you, the deep tension he’s been feeling for so long slowly giving way to a sense of calm. It’s peaceful, his mind quiet for once.

How he wishes he could stay like this forever; feeling your heartbeat, your soft touch, holding you close as you fall asleep, nose brushing the nape of your neck, a protective arm draped over you, keeping you safe.

He’s convincing himself to stay. He can feel it.

Just this once.

To put a smile on your pretty face.

To show you he cares.

It means so much to you, and how could he–

“I love you, Marc,” you whisper against his skin.

The words slip out before you can stop them, and you immediately regret saying them as you feel his muscles tense and he pulls out of you, leaving you painfully empty. His cum starts leaking out of you, pooling on the rumpled sheets beneath you.

Marc sits on the edge of the bed with his back turned to you and you sit up, leaning against the headboard, watching his profile with tearful eyes.

“Marc,” you say quietly, extending your hand to lightly touch his arm.

But it’s too late.

The spell is broken.

He gets up and fishes out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter from his jeans pocket, lighting one up, the orange glow casting shadows on the wall. He blows out a stream of smoke as he pulls up his jeans, sitting back on the bed, eyes distant as he looks out of the window.

You feel a pang of hurt, but you press on, desperately needing him to understand. “You–you don’t have to love me too,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “But please, you’ve been gone for so long and I–I only just got you back. Please, just stay with me this one time. Just this one time.”

He turns his head to look at you, his eyes flickering with something you can’t quite place. You shake your head slowly, resigned, then reach for his cigarette.

He gives it to you, watching as you put it between your swollen lips. You take a long drag, the smoke filling your lungs, and then exhale slowly, closing your eyes for a moment.

Marc eyes you curiously, recalling how you proudly told him you’d stopped smoking the last time he saw you.

Some things have changed, he supposes.

And some things…haven’t.

“Where were you?” you ask.

“Egypt,” he replies simply, caressing your leg.

“The whole time?”

“The whole time.”

“And the…business you had there, is it done?”

He hesitates for a moment before nodding, an imperceptible smile on his lips. “Yeah. You could say that.”

You take another drag from the cigarette before passing it back to him, the smoke a comforting distraction. “Will you stay in town now?”

Marc looks at you, and for a moment, hope flares in your chest. “Mhm. That’s the plan.”

You reach out and trace the remnants of what you can only imagine was a nasty bruise below his ribcage. “Aren’t you tired of this?”

He chuckles. “Of course I am.”

“Then why the fuck don’t you stop?”

He sighs. “It’s not that easy. There’s people who count on me, who need me.”

You avert your gaze, laughing mirthlessly, quickly wiping away a tear with trembling fingers. Marc watches you intently as he smokes, his hand resting on your thigh.

“I see,” you say softly as you meet his gaze, a sad smile on your lips. “Nothing’s changed.”

He doesn’t say anything in return.

“Why did you come back?”

I wanted to be as close to you as possible.

“My…job required me to. And I think it’ll stay that way for the foreseeable future.”

You nod. “Okay.”

He gently strokes your leg, unconsciously trying to soothe himself more than you. He’s about to say something, he doesn’t even know what, just something, when you can’t hold it in anymore.

“I get that I’m not a priority for you, Marc, I really do,” you whisper, your expression so full of sadness he can barely stand to look at you. “You made that abundantly clear when you disappeared without having the decency to say goodbye–”

“Sunshine…”

“–but I don’t understand why you won’t do this one thing for me.”

Marc’s brow furrows deeply as he watches your lip quiver with frustration.

“I-I promise I won’t ever ask you again, but please stay with me tonight. Please. It doesn’t even have to be the whole night. Just an hour, Marc, or–or half an–”

“Sunshine, no,” he says a bit sharper than intended, his own nerves frayed. He gets up and looks at the moon.

You just…don’t understand.

You don’t understand what keeps him up at night, what keeps him away from you, what he’s vowed to protect you from—and he can never tell you.

He knows he should have left you alone when he saw you outside the bar that night, should have walked away and spared you the pain.

But he couldn’t do it then, and he can’t do it now.

Because he’s a selfish asshole.

Because he loves you.

He flicks the cigarette butt out of the window, then bends down to put on his shirt, the act mechanical, his face set in a mask of determination. You haven’t noticed before, but now you notice how careful he is when bending and stretching.

He must be in pain.

“Marc,” you plead, your heart beating so fast you feel like it’s going to explode.

He puts on his shoes, the silence that’s stretching between you suffocating. He’s killing you. He’s killing you, and yet you’re more afraid of losing him forever.

This needs to stop. You need to stop.

“If you walk out of that door, I don’t ever wanna see you again.”

Marc halts his movements and your pleading eyes search his, the genuine desperation in them twisting a knife in his heart. For a moment, you think you see something in his eyes—a flicker of the man you need him to be—but then it’s gone.

He sighs heavily, then rounds the bed, leaning in to cup your cheek. “You don’t mean that,” he murmurs, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your forehead. “I’ll see you around.”

“Please,” you whisper, but it’s too late.

When he reaches the front door, his cap in hand, you stand in the living room, naked and vulnerable. “I hate you, Marc Spector,” you say, your voice filled with all the pain and anger you feel.

He turns, his eyes softening for just a moment. “No, Sunshine. No, you don’t.”

And with that, he’s gone.

It takes a few seconds for your body to react to what just happened, and when it does, it’s overwhelming. Your stomach sinks, your chest tightens, and your vision blurs as you grapple with your ambivalent feelings.

Tears spill down your cheeks as you crumble, the exhaustion and heartbreak taking over.

Heading back to your bedroom, your eyes catch the roses your boyfriend gave you yesterday, a cruel reminder of the life you’ve been trying to build without Marc. All the work you put in, down the drain.

And for what? Why do you do this to yourself?

In a fit of anger and despair, you grab the flowers and throw them off your balcony. You watch as they scatter on the rain-wet street below, the cool night air wrapping around your naked body like a cloak. You stay for a moment, heart pounding, staring at the flowers as Marc’s cum runs down your thigh.

God, you’re a dumb idiot.

You turn off the TV as you head back inside, turn off your bedside lamp, the darkness a welcome solace. You go to the bathroom without turning the light on, clean up, put on a fresh pair of pajamas.

You do hate him.

You need to tell yourself that, for tonight at least.

Curled up in your bed, you clutch at the pillow where his scent still lingers, letting the darkness take you as the man who holds your heart is once again slipping through your fingers. The tears come again, silent and unending, each one a testament to the love you can’t seem to let go of, no matter how much it hurts.

Because for better or worse, Marc’s a part of you, and you can’t escape it.

Down on the street, Marc watches the scene unfold from the shadows, the flowers landing at his feet. He stands there, drenched in regret, his heart heavy. He wants to turn back, to hold you and tell you everything will be okay, but he knows he can’t.

Not with the life he leads.

Not until he’s finally free.

He walks to his car, parked on the opposite side of the street. Coming from the reflection of the driver’s window, the car illuminated by the street lamp above, he hears a familiar voice.

“You’re a cold bastard, Marc,” the man in the reflection says, his tone filled with quiet condemnation.

“Thanks, bud,” Marc sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You wanna explain to him that we’re gonna be late, then?” He raises an eyebrow, but Steven just shakes his head disapprovingly.

Marc scoffs, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Didn’t think so.”

He takes the silver lighter out of his pocket, lights a cigarette, and leans against the car door, looking up at your windows. He imagines your silhouette as you’re lying on your side, your soft skin, the gentle rise and fall of your chest. He imagines you’re dreaming of him, finding peace in your sleep.

He knows he’s dreaming himself, knows you’re tossing and turning, cursing him. And he deserves it. He knows he does.

“Tick-tock, Marc Spector,” comes the resonating voice of Khonshu, his towering figure perched atop a nearby rooftop, his skeletal bird skull gleaming in the moonlight.

Marc rolls his eyes, takes a last drag of his cigarette before putting it out with his shoe, and shoots the impatient god a glare that earns him a chuckle that echoes through the night.

He looks up at your windows one last time, his heart aching with a longing he can’t afford to indulge. Then, with a heavy sigh, he gets into his car and turns on the radio.

As he speeds down the road, the city lights blurring past, leaving you behind, he feels the crushing loneliness of his life.

It’s strange.

Feeling lonely despite never being, you know, alone.

Right on cue, he catches the intense gaze of a dark pair of eyes in the rearview mirror.

“What? You gonna tell me I’m a cold bastard, too?”

Jake looks back at him with a sly grin. “Nah. You don’t need me to tell you what you already know,” he scoffs. “But it’s a real shame, Marc. Leaving that poor girl to get fucked by boys who don’t know what they’re doing, just ‘cause you don’t have the balls to–”

“And that’s enough of you,” Marc mutters, turning up the volume of the radio, refocusing on the way ahead.

⚡ Kavinsky’s Odd Look is playing in Marc’s car as he’s driving through the night, thinking of you. ⚡ Marc’s Ferrari Testarossa – the sexiest car there is. ⚡ I adore the synthwave aesthetic if you can’t tell lol.

Moon Knight Masterlist | AO3

#fic: nightcall #marc spector #marc spector x f!reader #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector smut #marc spector angst #moon knight #moon knight x f!reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you #moon knight smut #oscar isaac characters #marc spector fanfiction #moon knight fanfic #oscar isaac fic

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everestgale · 14 days ago

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You're lucky. What I would give to be able to forget—

[Drawing and design notes under the cut]

*cackles* Turns out, even putting just Hero through Moment of Clarity wasn't enough for Everest, they needed to make all of their voices suffer :]

This drawing was a very funny one because it just kept evolving until it got to what you see now! It was supposed to be a quick doodle where I send my human Hero to MoC... but then I wanted to add the other voices and give this drawing some nice lineart... and then I wanted to add flat colors to make sure each character is distinct from one another... and then I added light shading—

Despite how much it grew out of my control, and despite how much trouble it gave me composition and concept-wise, I'm quite happy with the final result. I'm glad I could at least play around and make some concepts for how my voices would change during the Moment of Clarity. Some were definitely on the simpler side, but others had quite a few neat details! If you're curious to read my thoughts on that, well, there we go!

Stubborn: definitely one of the simpler ones, though both of his Adversary-borrowed horns are snapped, almost symbolizing his usual will to fight depleting almost completely. He also has a bunch of bruise/dust marks all over him, as though he just came out of a fight.

Broken: I went with the obvious one and gave him a bunch of cracks for how shattered he is. But I also made his ears longer (which is the case for all of my voices that have "loose"/hair-like feathers - which are Hero, Smitten, and Broken)... and also he has a suspicious scar on his neck—

Cold: he is the voice that has the least "damage" on him, only really having some missing/messy bang feathers. He does, however, seem even colder than usual, insisting that all other voices are too soft, and they need to be numb and unfeeling... what's a better way to represent that than to literally have him covered in light icy texture?

Paranoid: my poor Paranoid always, always wears gloves when he can, it's a headcanon of mine that he feels extremely uncomfortable and anxious without them. And, uh, he is not wearing any in this drawing. Also just like the Hero in this and previous MoC drawings, he does not have any claws on his hands. His claws are gone :]

Skeptic: he was a difficult one for sure, I couldn't quite figure out how to represent his damage and distress. I ended up breaking a link on his neck shackle (which is barely noticeable), breaking his spiky collar feathers (which is barely noticeable), and adding a light "unraveling" texture (which is, again, barely noticeable). He does look very uncertain and confused, though, so at least I got that right!

Smitten: Smitten borrowed some of the elements from his HEA design, mainly the straightened hair and fallen-out curls. But to differentiate between the two designs, I also added a crack along the center of Smitten's face, like the one you might see on a broken heart :]

Opportunist: Opportunist actually doesn't seem to be doing too horribly during MoC (at least if you compare him to some of the other voices), which is why his design isn't as damaged as some of the other ones. He is tattered and messy, sure, but not completely destroyed like some of the other voices, though I did make sure to give him a very wide-eyed... half-scared, half-empathetic expression, I guess.

Hunted: while his quote "Kill or be killed" was taken out during one of the updates, I really wanted to include it in the drawing because I think it characterizes Hunted during this route very well. That's why his primary damage is blood splatters, from numerous and numerous and numerous deaths.

Cheated: he was fairly simple to do because his default design is already cut up and stitched together. All I needed to do was to add a few more gaping wounds and unravel his stitches. That's why his right ear is missing, too!

Contrarian: similar to Cheated, Contrarian also just got a feature of his regular design—cracks—greatly exaggerated. Contrarian really didn't seem to be doing well during MoC, which is why I went all out on his cracks. Couldn't let him open his eyes, or drop his "smiley" expression completely, but you hopefully can tell that he is barely hanging in there.

Hero: oh, Hero, my sweet, sweet boy Hero. I already talked about his MoC design in a previous post—broken visor feathers to represent his destroyed nature as a "hero" and missing claws—and his long, very unkempt feathers represent the passage of time (how long they've been stuck in there) and almost unraveling (how badly has Hero been damaged by whatever they all experienced in the lead up to Moment of Clarity).

...should be all I wanted to ramble about! Hope you all like this drawing as much as I enjoyed making it :]

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gguk-n · 4 months ago

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Notes & Nitrous (Oscar Piastri x Jeon Jungkook's labelmate!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Face claim- IU

{Jungkook's POV}

Y/N was always nice, that was her personality. She wasn't nice because she wanted to be an idol but she was genuinely nice from the moment I met her. She was the first female solo artist under our label and debuted soon after we did. Those were tough time; while Y/N made a name for herself domestically, we were able to expand internationally which in turn brought more traffic to our company. She would always joke about how we helped her go to concerts overseas. She got along well with the other members too; but there was always something different between us, or so thought.

We were both teenagers when we became trainees. She would always ask us questions and for help and she was the only one who could call me oppa and get away with it. Even the fans noticed how she could call me oppa and no one else. When I think about it, it's mostly because I had a huge crush on her. I was in love with her for years but us dating would be scandalous so we never did, or I never asked.

Everyone treated her like BTS's younger sister. I couldn't imagine it. I wish I had the guts to ask her out.

Y/N was promoting at the same time as I was promoting seven. Going to music shows became exciting because I would find Y/N back stage and we would be goofing off. "Why'd you have to promote seven now?" she whined playfully. "Why?" I asked confused. "I can't win a single time now, until your song stops being nominated" she laughed. "I can stop" I stated. "No, no, oppa, I was joking. The fans love the single; I was just teasing you. I've won enough trophies at this point" she quickly corrected.

We were both done with our promotions and were at the company recording. I had asked her to do a demo for a few of my songs and she was giving feedback on how I could do them. I saw how her eyes sparkled and the way it made my heart beat really fast when she spoke. I found myself staring at her lips, I have no clue what took over me but I suddenly kissed her. She stopped speaking and then I felt it, the sudden push. "Oppa" she screamed. I was shocked, the feeling of her lips still on mine as I traced my lips. "What was that?" she asked. "I...I like you Y/N, so much for so long now" I mumbled. Her shoulders slumped, "I'm sorry oppa but I don't feel that way." she said. "I thought..." I trailed off. "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. I just hope you will forget this" she said. "Why? Is it because of the dating ban" I asked. "What? NO, Oppa, we are veterans at this point. I just never saw you as anyone but an older brother. Someone to lean on or ask for help" she explained. My heart shattered and I couldn't even say anything. I felt tears prick my eyes. "I'm sorry, I really am. I just hope we can be friends" she begged. "I'm sorry Y/N but I need time. Can you leave?" I asked. "I'm sorry again. I hope we can be friends again" she said while walking out.

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by oscarpiastri and 267,803 others

y/n.y/l/n 3 sold out shows in Melbourne!! Thank you everyone who came. Can't wait to see you guys in Manila next!💗💗

user8 언니 너 너무 예뻐 🥹🥹unnie you are so pretty user9 Love all your shows❤️❤️ user10 Oscar was at that show and I saw him too, I think I can die happy now😭😭 user11 She doesn't have a bad angle🥵🥵 user12😘😘 oscarpiastri 🤤🤤 user13 please behave yourself Oscar🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

{Oscar's POV}

I walked into the McLaren garage for the meeting before the race when Zak introduced me to Y/N Y/L/N. They listened to me and invited her, when did they ever do that, my brain was short circuiting. She raised her hand to greet me, "I'M A HUGE FAN" I blurted out, quickly covering my mouth. She smiled, "I saw, the fans were talking about some Oscar at my show, so I checked and they didn't disappoint" she said winking at me. I could die happy now. "It's nice to meet you, you've helped my fan base expand" she chuckled. I laughed nervously. She turned her attention to Lando who had walked in and spoke to him for a few moments while I watched.

"Mate, you're sweating so much, don't be nervous you drive Formula One cars for a living for fucks sake" Lando joked as he saw me stare at her. "How can I not? She's my celebrity crush" I stated. "Ask her out" Lando said simply. "What? NO?" I denied. "Come on, she was flirting with you since she got here. The worse she could say is no and you will never see her" Lando reasoned. "But..." I stammered. "You wanted to meet her that's why you asked to invite her and now that she's here you won't even shoot your shot" Lando questioned.

So, eventually I did pluck up the courage and walked up to her. She was taking a few pictures when I stood in front of her, "Hey Oscar" she greeted putting her phone away. "Hi. Are you in town for a few more days?" I asked. "yeah, my concerts in a few days" she said. "Would you like to go out with me?" I asked trying to sound as confident as I could be. She smiled, "yes, I would love that" she said. "Great! Then dinner tomorrow at 8?" I suggested. "Done. Can't wait" she commented. I walked to the car with a pip in my step, my celebrity crush just said yes to going out with me.

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren and 890,296 others

y/n.y/l/n First formula one race of my life!! Thank you mclaren for having me🧡🧡

mclaren don't mention it but you should thank our driver tbh😏🤔 user14 no way Oscar suggested to invite her🥹🥹 user15 She looks so good in orange, I could never😘😍😍 user16 that outfit😍😍 user17 Is no one gonna talk about how she changed her outfit at the paddock?🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️ user18 I would've fainted if I was Oscar🫣👀👀 landonorris user18 he almost did🫢🫢 user18 landonorris OMG!! YOU RPELIED oscarpiastri we loved having you, come back soon🧡 Liked by the author y/n.y/l/n oscarpiastri I would love to be back if you'll invite me😉 user19 what is going on between Oscar and Y/N?😌🫣 user20 user19 they're just being nice to each other, shut up🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

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daydreaming-nerd · 8 months ago

Text

The Angel of Music (Azriel x Reader)

AN: guys this is always one of my emotional support movies/plays I’ve seen it a million times so it only seemed fair that I give it the ACOTAR collab it deserves.

Summary: It was the inner circles first time at the theater and from the way the Shadowsinger was blushing they all had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last. (the reader plays Christine Daae in Velaris’ adaptation of The Phantom Of The Opera and Azriel falls in love with her, but he’s afraid that she won’t like him because of his scars because she choose Raoul in the play) Set between ACOWAR and AOFAS

Warnings: Angst because of Azriel’s scars, shy az, but so much fluff, (just a little Az brain rot, didn't take this too seriously)

Word Count: 3,070

It wasn’t the shadowsinger's usual scene. Bustling people dressed to the nines, plush red chairs, gold sconces, orchestras. But Cassian had been tirelessly trying to make Nesta smile, and Ferye wanted to try and get her sisters together, so here he sat in the box that Rhysand had purchased for the night.

Nesta loved the music and dancing, Elain loved the romance, and Feyre loved the costumes and color palettes of scenes. Cassian wanted to see Nesta smile, and Rhysand would do just about anything Feyre asked of him.

In all his 500 years of life, Azriel had never thought to go to the theater. When he was a child he heard of his parents going but of course, he never got to go. As he grew the idea of going to see a show simply never crossed his mind.

When the lights went down and the orchestra came to life he spent most of his time watching Cassian, who was watching a very intrigued Nesta. He stayed that way until a clap and a spark echoed throughout the room. At first, he thought there was danger, but as soon as he turned his attention towards the stage he saw the large chandelier raise itself to life bringing the dilapidated stage with it. Golds, reds, and vibrant colors filled the room.

Still, Azriel had trouble following the plot. But as he watched Nesta and her sisters become entranced by the music and dancing. The loud organ had stirred something in him, but he didn’t truly feel moved until her.

Think of me, think of me fondly when we’ve said goodbye…

Azriel was sitting in a box at the edge of the theater, but even from this distance, he could tell that she was the most beautiful female he had ever seen. He scooted to the edge of his seat a tad just to be that much closer to her. Her voice was that of a siren, no not a siren, an angel. His shadows danced around his ears and his wings at the sound of her ballad. Even the rest of the inner circle seemed to be entranced by her spell.

As the play went on he found himself becoming irrationally jealous of Raoul. The pretty Viscount had not given her a second look at the beginning of the play. It wasn’t until the organ sounded again that the sound of her voice graced Azriel’s ears. The woman walked through a mirror towards a masked man.

Who was this masked man? Where was he taking her? It wasn’t until Mor rested her hand to where he was gripping his chair with white knuckles that he remembered it was just a play. He sat back in his seat more, trying to tell his shadows to calm down. But as her voice climbed and climbed that beautiful crescendo they twisted and turned around him.

Azriel spent the rest of the play being utterly entranced by the beautiful singer’s relationship with the Phantom. The masked man was dark and radical, staying in the shadows where no one could see him. He observed her from afar. Much like the shadowsinger did himself in every aspect of his life.

It was clear to him that the Phantom was in love with Christine. So when Raoul and Christine kissed he nearly felt his heart shatter. The way the Phantom mourned, and cried, it felt all too personal to Azriel.

I gave you my music, made your way. And now how you’ve repaid me, denied me and betrayed me…

From there on out Azriel found himself rooting for the Phantom, the man he saw so much of himself in. He nearly shed a tear when he found out why the man wore a mask. A scared child in a cage made to perform.

He looked down at his mangled hands sitting on the arms of his chair. He had known a similar childhood and had suddenly wished he had something like a mask to cover such torn flesh. Maybe then the beautiful woman on stage might look at him with that same lovesick gaze, she wore now for Raoul, but he knew that could never be.

For a moment he felt joy, seeing her kiss the Phantom with such passion, such love. Only for that joy to be extinguished like a candle when she walks out with the Viscount. Of course, she would choose him, life does imitate art after all. It wasn’t until the curtain went down and the crowd erupted in thunderous applause that Azriel broke from his trance, standing to applause with them.

“Well that was wonderful,” Feyre beamed, linking her arm with Rhysand’s.

“I’ll say, that girl sang like an angel,” Mor gushed, fanning herself with her program as we all made our way out of the box. “Even Azriel seemed to enjoy it,” the female smirked, bumping Azriel with her shoulder. She had seen the lovesick gaze in his eyes.

“It was so romantic the way Raoul came to rescue her,” Elain swooned, grabbing her sister's other arm.

“Oh please, the Phantom was the obvious choice!” Nesta huffed at her sister's comment.

“Nesta, would you like to meet the cast? Maybe talk to some of the dancers?” Feyre asked, changing the subject quickly before conflict arose.

Nesta thought for a moment and spoke again, “Yes I would.” all she said.

Of course, it was an easy task for Rhys to sweet-talk his way backstage, the inner circle sticking out like a sore thumb as they weaved past props, costumes, and the ensemble. Azriel’s eyes stayed ever vigilant, unable to let go of years of training as they walked down a dark hall. A cast member opened a door at the end of the hall to reveal mirrors with glimmering faelights around them. Vanities with every manor of makeup and costume jewelry. Two men he recognized as the actors who played the Viscount and the Phantom.

The Phantom had washed off the makeup that made his face look scarred. Once again Azriel wished he too had that ability. Rhys and Feyre shook both their hands introducing them to the whole inner circle, but Azriel paid no mind. His hazel eyes were searching for a hint of her.

“Oh y/n there’s someone who wants to meet you!” called out one of the actors.

“Oh, really who?” called a voice so melodic Azriel just knew that she had to be an angel.

His shadows wisped around him frantically, calling out her name in his ear, like they were excited to finally know it. Rhys and Feyre’s eyes looked to their friend and smiled at one another.

She walked around from a changing screen, tying the strings of the robe she was wearing that looked similar to the one she had worn on stage. She nearly stopped in her tracks as she saw her High Lord and Lady staring at her.

“My Lord, My Lady,” she bows. “It is an honor.”

“No, no, please don’t bow,” Feyre rushes over, bringing the singer upright. “If anything we should be bowing to you. You sang like a goddess out there, you are truly talented.”

“Why thank you, my Lady, I’m truly happy you enjoyed the show,” she smiled and Azriel’s heart all but glowed.

“Please call me Feyre,” the High Lady smiles, extending her hand.

“Y/n,” the singer replied, taking her hand and shaking it.

Azriel kept to the sidelines as the inner circle conversed with the cast and crew. Feyre and Rhys praised the play director and claimed they would be purchasing their box for the rest of the season. Nesta picked the brains of the dancers and their instructor, Cassian listening dutifully behind her. Elain chatted up the Phantom and Raoul, both actors seemingly falling for her, once again showing how life imitates art.

Mor talked to y/n, about what? Azriel didn’t know. But the second Mor caught Az gazing at y/n she held out a hand to him.

“Y/n I’d like you to meet Azriel, spymaster for the night court,” Mor said, beckoning Azriel over.

Azriel quickly put his hands behind his back, not wanting to scare her with his scars. He could’ve sworn he saw her cheeks tint a shade pinker as he approached, looming over her in size.

“How do you do?” y/n asks.

It takes a second for Azriel to realize that her angelic voice is speaking to him.

“Oh um, very well thanks.” he stutters, already feeling like a fool. Gods she was even more beautiful up close, he found himself suddenly longing for the box that offered him sanctuary, or a mask like the Phantom had.

“Did you um, enjoy the show?” she probed and Azriel realized that Mor had conveniently dismissed herself.

“I did,” he said quickly. “You have a beautiful voice, I could’ve listened all night.”

Once again he swore he saw y/n blush as she looked down at her feet, “Thank you, though I think I fell flat a little in the first song. Opening night and all,” she laughed nervously and oh Cauldron, the sound of her laughter was enough to make Az take one step towards her.

“No it was perfect, all of it.” he spat out, not standing to hear her say one more bad thing about herself.

“Well thank you Azriel,” she said and by the fucking Cauldron she smiled at him. His name fell off her perfect lips and she smiled at him. He must’ve been dead and somehow gotten to heaven, there was no other explanation.

The rest of the inner circle watched the pair intently. Feyre sank further into Rhysand’s side as they both realized they were watching Azriel fall in love in real-time. The yin and yang of the pair was near poetic and Feyre told herself she would pain this exact moment tomorrow morning.

“Y/n why don’t you come to dinner with us? We would love to hear more about you,” Rhysand smiled.

His words broke the trance y/n was in, “Oh my Lord I truly wish I could, but I have an early day tomorrow and my apartment is clear across town.” She apologized.

“No worries, it sounds like we will all be back for tomorrow night's show as well. Though I would hate for you to walk home alone,” Rhys smirked trying to get Azriel to bite at the bait.

“Not to worry I make the trek all the time,” she smiled, picking up the many vases of flowers people had left for her on her vanity.

“Azriel could walk you home, couldn’t you Az?” Mor chimed in and Azriel shot her a look.

“Uh, yeah I could if you’d like,” Azriel mentioned stuttering over his words as he scratched the back of his neck.

“Oh no I wouldn’t want to take you from dinner with your family,” she assured him, picking up two large vases of flowers.

“Not at all, I would be honored to walk you home,” the shadowsinger said a little too quickly. Feyre tried to stifle her laugh in Rhys’ side, she had never seen her spymaster so flustered.

“Okay then,” the girl smiled and soon enough they were off down the cobblestone street, their way lit by dim faelight.

y/n’s pov:

“Your shadows are incredible,” I smile watching as the dark wisps carry the various vases of flowers down the road.

I had been more than happy to have the High Lord’s shadowsinger walk me home. In all honesty, I was captivated by the male the moment I set eyes on him. Sure he was hard, dressed in black, and over a foot taller than me.

A sane woman might’ve kept her distance from the male, he was dangerous after all. But I knew the moment he spoke that he wasn’t a threat. There was a quiet and gentle calm underneath all that darkness.

“Thank you,” he says and I swear I see him blush. “They seem to really like you.”

“They do? How can you tell?” I laugh as one of the little fellas brush against my cheek like a cat brushing against an ankle.

“They went wild when you were singing tonight,” he chuckles, seemingly remembering how they danced.

“Really?” I ask balking a bit.

“I’m serious, give it a try,” he smiles, motioning for me to sing again.

I shrug and clear my throat before singing a line from the play, “Angel of Music, hide no longer. Come to me, strange angel,” I sang softly and sure enough the little shadows danced and swirled around me. Threading themselves through my hair and around my arms where they held my vases of flowers.

“That’s amazing,” I breathe finally watching the small wisps die down, hiding behind their master like they were shy.

“You’re amazing,” their master spits out and then blushes. ‘

I can’t help but feel myself blush too, shying away from the hulking Illyrian. He didn’t look so tough as his shadows carried dozens of flowers behind him. He had walked down the street with his hands behind his back the whole time, not needing to lift a finger.

The little purple door I’m so used to seeing comes into view. Outside the cottage are dozens and dozens of roses and the light inside is out.

“I leave these here,” I say gesturing to the flowers I’m holding as I set them on the front porch.

“Why not take them home? Were they not gifted to you?” Azriel cocks an eyebrow as his shadows place the flowers neatly next to the ones I set down.

I laugh starting back down the path towards my place, “I get so many, I can’t possibly keep them all. Marla is an elderly woman who lost her husband years ago. It brings her joy to have them, so I leave them for her. Besides it’s not like they’re from anyone special,” I shrug, subtly dropping the hint to Azriel that I’m not otherwise engaged.

Azriel pauses beside me and approaches a rose bush blooming near one of the cottages. Drawing his dagger, he carefully slices off a vibrant red rose. Before offering it to me, he painstakingly removes every thorn with the same blade, as if to protect my hands from even the slightest prick.

“You deserve to have at least one flower,” he says offering me the rose.

I blush and go to reach for it when I catch sight of his hand. The mangled and marred flesh. I can’t help but feel my breath hitch as I wonder who could’ve done such a thing to such a gentle soul. The scarred hand pulls back a bit as if realizing my staring.

“I guess I’m more Phantom than dashing Viscount,” he utters sadly, referring to my play and my role in it. My heart shatters as I see his broken expression.

“You know,” I smile, taking the rose from his scarred hands. “I always thought that Christine should end up with The Phantom, he was clearly the better choice.”

His head whips up as if I’ve uttered an inconceivable phrase. “Even though he had ugly scars?” Azriel inquires, his face tight like he might not want to hear whatever answer I provide.

“Who said he was ugly?” I laugh, did this beautiful specimen of a male truly believe he was ugly because his hands bore scars?

“So you would choose the Phantom?” he cocks an eyebrow as if trying to read if I was telling the truth.

“In a heartbeat,” I affirm confidently and honestly.

He takes a step towards me, his form getting even bigger, “and what about scarred hands? Is that a deal breaker?” he probes, holding out his hands so I can see that they both harbor similar markings.

I shake my head taking another step towards him, appreciating the beauty that is him. From the white scars that ran up his hands, to the shadows that danced around him like they they were whispering to him.

“So if I asked you to dinner after your show tomorrow?” he queries taking a step towards me as well.

“I would ask you where we are going?” I reply feeling my cheeks heat up. Was he asking me out? I tried to push the butterflies down in my stomach.

“Rita’s ?” he shrugs, stepping forward.

“Sounds like a plan,” I smile moving towards him more, like I was compelled to.

“I’ll swing backstage after the curtain closes,” he smiles, seemingly becoming more confident in himself as we step closer together just a few feet apart.

“I’ll put your name on the list,” I say, feeling his presence pull me in.

“And if I were to send you flowers? What kind would you like?” he interrogates further.

I think for a moment, no one had ever asked me what flowers I might like to receive. My eyes look around as if searching for inspiration until they land on a blue siphon adorning his chest that’s right in front of me.

“Something blue,” I blush knowing that when I see the cobalt flowers on my vanity I will know they are from him.

“Consider it done,” he smiles and I suddenly realize that we’re mere inches apart now.

I turn to my right where the blue door to my house beckons to be opened. Pulling out my keys I unlock it and use my shoulder to shove it open as it always gets stuck.

“Well,” I say shyly. “Thank you for walking me home,”

“Anytime,” he smiles looking down at his feet.

The sight of the bashful warrior on my front doorstep has me melting. His face is so beautiful and perfectly carved I can't help but lean up on my toes and kiss his cheek. I almost regret it when it’s over but the violent red of his cheeks makes me smile again.

“Well goodnight,” I say, trying not to let my words shake in the process.

“Goodnight,” he smiles, brushing a hand against his freshly kissed cheek.

I close the door and place the single, thornless, rose he cut for me in a vase. It isn’t until I turn on a light that I hear him take off into the night and I swear I hear him let out a grand whoop from way up in those clouds.

Permanent Taglist: @fides25, @dissociated-always @crystalferret202 , @kennedy-brooke , @sunshineangel-reads , @lilah-asteria , @evergreenlark , @cheneyq

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x reader angst #azriel x reader fluff #azriel #azriel spymaster #inner circle #acotar

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boyfhee · 8 months ago

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﹙𝓲ssue﹚ㅤ:ㅤwiping their kissesㅤ...ㅤ( 엔하이픈 )

ㅤㅤ﹙1167﹚ ㅤ장르 fluff, est. relㅤㅤwarnings kissingㅤㅤᐢᗜᐢ as always, thank u sm for reading. pls rb and give feedback, it helps a lot ^_^ iNDEX

HEESEUNG

would do a double take, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. you do whine jokingly about him kissing you every minute, but never go as far as to wipe his kisses so it takes him a good minute to register what was happening. “did you just wipe my kiss?” would ask with eyes wide open and all, clearly in disbelief, almost convinced he did something wrong until he catches you holding back a smile and knows it's just another one of your little games. would quite literally engulf you in his arms, not letting you escape. “i'm going to kiss you until you're sick of it,”

JONGSEONG

jay wouldn't think of it so much the first time you do it, so he would kiss you again, brows furrowing in confusion when you wipe your lips the second time. “why are you wiping my kisses?” scowls when you don't respond. you're wiping his kisses and ignoring him, and he huffs in disbelief, looking away before giving you a sour look up and down. he leans in for another kiss and knows you're going to wipe it as well so he grabs your wrists, although with a gentle grip and kisses you again, this time making it more intimate, almost holding himself back from kissing you senseless and smirks when he pulls back sees your flustered expression. “that's what you get for wiping my kisses.”

JAEYUN

pouty, hurt, confused, surprised, panicked— every emotion listed in the dictionary. he's so sure he did something wrong to have you act this way and would he so hesitant to reach out to you in case he pisses you off again. “are you upset? did i do something? i'm so sorry—” yapping and it's apologies, it makes you feel bad for even pulling this prank on him. he gets even more confused when you start laughing, and then gives you that upside-down frown he does, it makes your heart melt. “you almost had me there, babe.” also makes you promise him that you won't pull anything like this again >_<

SUNGHOON

his ego is bruised, shattered to be honest, and he actually gives you the worst side eyes and mocking glares. “i guess we're not kissing anymore,” starts avoiding your every single attempt to kiss him later to give you a taste of your own medicine. if you manage to steal a peck, he is wiping it off, probably even feigning dismissal and disinterest. it isn't long until he's caving in because he wants to kiss you so bad but fortunately, you apologise and make up to him with hugs and kisses. “lame ass prank, shouldn't have done it if you can't keep your hands off me.” talking as if he wasn't experiencing withdrawal symptoms -⌓-

SUNOO

scoffs dramatically when you do it, knowing it's one of your silly little pranks because he always showers you in kisses and never once have you acted this way. he takes it as a challenge, giving you another kiss and his smile grows wide when you wipe it again, and this continues, getting faster and faster with both of your giggles and laughter erupting in the room. it's only a matter of time before he has you pinned on the couch, peppering your face with butterfly kisses and not giving you any opportunity to wipe them. “see, you can never escape my kisses.”

JUNGWON

is quite taken aback when he catches you wiping your lips, a bit flustered as he speaks sheepishly. “does my breath smell?” and you end up laughing, making him even more flustered. sort of laughs along with you but he is still giving you that clueless stare. “is something wrong? why are you laughing? wait, is this a prank?” he gets really self conscious but feels like he can breathe properly when you give up and tell him it's a prank, immediately giving him a kiss as an apology. “ah, you got me there.” he would still be a bit confused but would kiss you for hours later.

NI-KI

quite literally goes “eh?” when you wipe your lips after he gives you a quick peck, and then bursts into laughter as if it was an absolute knee slapper of a prank, while you're standing there all confused, giving him the '???' look. “what's so funny, 'ki?” you ask, and he would laugh even more, shaking his head while trying to compose himself. leans in to kiss you because of the look on your face but has to pull back because he ends up laughing again. “it's funny to see you wipe my kiss when you can't go a minute without them.”

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watermelongirl01 · 2 months ago

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Sweet Rescue - 01

Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: None, I think.

A/N: I hope you like it, please let me know if you do!

Your parents always warned you about the dangers of driving late at night, but did you listen?

It all happened too fast. As you were waiting for the red light to change, out of nowhere you felt a violent impact on the left side of your car, launching you across the empty street. Shattered glasses splattered down your face and you instinctively squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the worst, only opening them again until your car finally came to a stop.

The front of your car was completely destroyed, which is likely the reason why your legs felt trapped. You tried to move them to get out of the car, but it didn’t work. Your eyesight started to get blurry. You reached up to touch the side of your head and immediately felt a wave of nausea wash over you when you looked at the blood on your fingers.

There was no room to move, your throat felt dry and tight, refusing to let you scream for help. Your phone was nowhere to be found, and with each passing moment, your eyelids grew heavier, as if sleep was pulling you under.

You weren’t sure what the handsome firefighter was trying to tell you, you weren’t even sure when they arrived at the scene, let alone who called for them.

The only thing you were sure of, was that the man in front of you had the prettiest green eyes you’ve ever seen in your entire existence.

Suddenly, the shock wave left your body, and all the noise came back. The blaring sirens and flashing lights complicate your vision, their brightness finally blinding you. For the first time in what felt like forever, you blinked again. The dryness in your eyes stung a bit, giving you a hint of how long you had been frozen at that moment.

“Sweetheart?” A deep and raspy voice caught your attention.

“You have pretty eyes.” He flashed a smile at you.

You saw how he gestured for the other firefighters to help him get you out of the wrecked automobile.

“Don’t move your head, sweetheart, my friends here are going to take good care of you.” He pointed at two women who seemed to be the paramedics.

——

“Oh God, I came as soon as I heard.” A worried redhead barged into your hospital room. “Are you okay boss?”

Charlie has been there since you opened the bakery. Doesn’t do a lot of baking but she’s really good at managing business.

“I’m okay, they just wanted me to stay the night to monitor my contusion.” You reassured. “I will be discharged in a couple of hours. Just remind me to never drive at night again.”

The redhead sat on the end of the bed. “What happened?”

“A drunk driver, luckily the street was empty, it was just me, so it wasn’t a big accident.” You quickly explained.

“I heard the firefighters got you out.” She narrowed her eyes. “Pretty? Hot? Spill it.”

You chuckled while shaking your head. “Pretty hot, I would say.”

“We’ll have to thank them to save the best boss ever.”

“Oww, I knew you cared, Charlie.” You said placing a hand on your heart.

“Well of course, if you die I become jobless.”

“Touching words Charlie, they are really heartwarming.”

“No, really boss, I’m glad you’re fine.” She smiled softly, grabbing your hand between hers. “I should come back to the bakery, and make sure Donna hasn’t burned anything, but I will come back in a few hours to get you home, got it?”

“Got it.”

You waved goodbye to her and smiled to yourself. There was nothing much to do but stare at the white, sterile walls around you. No phone to distract you, it was probably destroyed in the accident. You’d been planning to replace it anyway, though not before buying the new refrigerator for the bakery, paying the bills, and—oh right—baking the wedding cake for your aunt, along with cupcakes for that birthday party. Damn it, you were way too busy to be hospitalized.

Before you could spiral further into your thoughts, a throat clearing from across the room caught your attention. You looked up to find a tall, green-eyed man staring at you.

Those eyes

“Hey, I'm Captain Winchester, I don’t know if you remember me, but I —.” You interrupted him.

“The firefighter who pulled me out of the car, I remember.”

He smiled widely. “You do?” He chuckled a little. “I came to drop some patients and found out you stayed overnight, so I came to check on you.”

“Yeah, apparently they wanted to monitor my head injury and the concussion, but they will discharge me in a minute.”

“It was a pretty nasty cut, huh?” He pointed at the baby pink Hello Kitty band-aid covering your tiny wound.

You laughed a little embarrassed. “Hey, it could’ve been dangerous, I almost died out there.”

“Not on my watch, sweetheart.” He leaned on the end of the bed, getting closer to you. You struggled to breathe.

Your hand traveled at the tiny band-aid in your head, suddenly remembering your choice of style.

“You know, they didn’t have normal ones, so they gave me no choice.”

“The hospital didn’t have regular band-aids and forced you to use a Hello Kitty one?”

“Yup, those bastards.” You frowned, not able to hide your smile.

He narrowed his eyes at you, calling your bullshit.

“Fine, I chose it, but it was because it’s the only band-aid that fits my personality.”

He chuckled. “That I can see.”

Captain Winchester stayed for about half an hour, chatting with you. He would have stayed longer, but one of the paramedics—Jo, as you had learned—came looking for him.

“Dean?” You looked up in surprise at the blonde girl standing in your doorway. Captain Winchester seemed equally caught off guard. “The guys are waiting for you. They want to rest.”

“Oh, sorry,” Dean muttered, glancing at his watch in confusion. “I kind of lost track of time.” He turned back to Jo. “This is the lady from the accident. Jo is, well, you know her.” He gestured to you. “Jo’s the paramedic who helped you.”

“I remember. Thank you so much, Jo,” you said, offering a genuine smile.

Jo nodded, her expression briefly softening. “That’s my job, but glad to see you’re okay.” Her focus quickly shifted back to him, barely acknowledging you.

Dean gave you a small smile, his fingers tapping on the bed rails. “I should get going, but I’m glad you’re alright.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “Need a ride? There’s room on the truck.”

Jo raised an eyebrow at his words, clearly confused by his offer.

“Oh, my friend should be on her way. But I appreciate it, really.” You smiled at him.

He returned the smile, more warmly this time. “Alright. see you around, then.”

“Bye, Captain,” you said, your voice soft as you watched him leave.

——

“See you around? Are you stupid, Dean?”

“Jeez Sammy, I’m sorry, my mind blocked for a moment, okay?.” Dean looked up at his brother, feeling slightly offended.

“Clearly, how are you gonna see her around if you didn’t even ask for her number.”

“I’ll ask Cas, he’s a doctor there, maybe he can get me her phone number?.”

“No, he can’t, it’s against the hospital policies.”

“What if I invite him a beer in exchange?” Sam shook his head in disbelief.

“A bribe? That's illegal.”

“No, it’s not.” His fingers grabbed the bacon on his breakfast plate.

“Of course it is Dean.”

“It’s not illegal if you don’t get caught.”

“That’s not how it works, and you know it.” Sam massaged his temples with his fingers.

“Fine! I’ll ask Jo if she can do a follow-up and help me get her number.” The older brother took a bite out of his bacon, shrinking his shoulders.

“No, bad idea, don’t ask Jo.”

“Why not?” Dean looked at this brother in utter confusion.

“Just don’t, trust me.”

Dean's mouth opened to argue back, but before he could say something a soft voice interrupted him.

“Excuse me? I'm looking for Captain Winchester.”

And there you were, looking beautiful, a different band-aid adorned your forehead, this time it didn’t have a Hello Kitty on it, it was simple in a pretty cherry red color. You were juggling with a bunch of pink pastry boxes, Dean recognized the logo, it was from his favorite bakery.

“You’ve found him.” You smiled when your eyes found his green ones.

He immediately stepped forward to help you with the boxes, noticing there were at least six of them, each in a different size.

"This is for you," you said, offering him a warm smile. "Well, for all of you," you added, glancing at the curious firefighters who were watching. "It’s just a small way to say thank you for saving my life."

"Oh, sweetheart, you didn’t have to do this," he replied, smiling at you.

“It’s really no trouble,” you said with a shrug, your voice softening. "I didn’t know what to bring, so I grabbed a little bit of everything, pie, cupcakes, cinnamon rolls, cookies, I hope you like it." You clasped your hands together. "It was baked with a lot of love and a big thank you."

"How do you know it was baked with a lot of love?" came from Jo’s voice, echoing from the doorway as she leaned against the frame, arms crossed.

Dean winced, but you didn’t seem bothered by her tone.

"Uh, I baked them." you said, smiling softly.

"Do you work there, sweetheart?" Dean asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Well, kinda," you chuckled lightly. "I actually own the place."

"You own the bakery with the best pies in town?" Dean asked, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice.

"I don’t know about the best pies in town," you said with a small laugh, "but yeah, I own it."

"Awesome." He said.

"Excuse my brother." A deep voice said from behind him. A tall man with long hair stepped forward and offered his hand with a smile. "He really does love your bakery. I’m Lieutenant Sam Winchester."

You shook his hand, handing him a piece of paper as you did. He glanced at it, looking slightly confused.

"I wasn’t sure what would be enough," you explained, suddenly feeling a little shy. "But being there during the accident, seeing all of your faces, it just made me feel like I had another chance. So, I wanted to give you something to show how much I appreciate what you did for me."

You took a deep breath, watching his expression carefully. "For the next year, you can go to my bakery and get anything you want. My treat."

Sam blinked, surprised. "What? That’s too much, Are you sure?"

You nodded with a smile. "Yes, absolutely. I’ve already talked to all my employees. If I’m not there, they’ve been instructed to let you take whatever you want every morning. No charge."

"That’s really kind of you," a voice said from behind you. "We really appreciate it."

"Sweetheart, this is Chief Singer, Bobby Singer." Dean said, introducing you.

"A pleasure, Chief. You have the finest firefighters in town." you said with a smile.

Bobby grinned. "That I know." he replied, clearly proud.

You glanced at Dean, suddenly reminded of your to-do list. "I really should get going. I need to take care of some things for the insurance company."

"Let me walk you out, sweetheart," Dean offered.

You nodded, gathering your things as you made your way toward the door, stopping to say goodbye to everyone in the room.

"Thanks for the pie, beautiful," Dean said teasingly.

You felt your cheeks flush. "Thanks to you, for rescuing me and for checking on me."

"Always," he said, his smile softening. "I’ll be there tomorrow, first thing in the morning."

"I’ll make sure to be there."

"You better." he said with a playful grin.

And he stood there watching her leave the fire station, her red high heels clicking against the gray concrete floor and hips moving side to side as she walked out.

“Oh my god, you really like her.” A voice coming from behind him said.

“Shut up, Sammy.”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s been a year already.” The younger sibling looked at him, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “It’s okay to move on.”

Dean simply nodded.

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ajortga · 9 months ago

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just too late

pairing: tara carpenter x fem!reader

summary: where tara can't help but regret the outcome of her consequences, she was just too late. how can a heart love if it is no longer beating?

warnings: massive angst, death, stabbing, blood

word count: 3.5k+

a/n: based of a request i got on wp! honestly, i wrote this months ago and got to the end, but their request was so similar that i redid it. posting a small second part soon<3 also omg, thank you for 500 followers!

You had just visited Tara, a bouquet of roses in one hand as you knocked on the door. You had seen them when walking to her apartment and you knew that they were just perfect for her. You had to get them. As you heard the lock of the door click, Tara opened the door. She peeked out and saw you, smiling shyly. You thought she'd smile back, but instead her smile dropped.

That had never happened before.

"Y/N, we need to talk.

You knew something was wrong, something bad was going to happen. Your breath got stuck in your throat as she stepped aside to let you in. You knew the next thing that would happen would not be good.

fast forward 20 minutes

You stood there in Tara's apartment, Sam eyeing you with a penetrating death glare. You felt like sinking into the floor right there and then. You hated this kind of silence.

Sam broke the quietness, her gaze stern, "Y/N, this isn't going to work out between you and Tara." She states, crossing her legs as she sighs, "All of it just adds up."

You shake your head, but before you can retaliate, Sam speaks again.

"You know it too. You started dating my sister two weeks prior before the first ghostface attack. The police found your necklace right next to the victim, covered in blood. I can't trust you and have you near my sister. All of us," she states, twirling her finger in a circle, "Are in danger and I can't let my baby sister get hurt again. None of us trust you, not Mindy, not Chad, and definitely not me. You are going to stay away from her, no more coming over or seeing each other at school. Do I make myself clear?"

"You believe a piece of evidence that barely proves anything? They didn't even find my DNA anywhere!"

"Gloves."

You felt rage crawling its way out, you couldn't believe your girlfriend's sister would think you're the killer. Sam knows all too well how much Tara loves you. "You know I wouldn't hurt you! Least of all Tara! I love her with my whole heart and I would never even think of that! I-I don't know how my necklace got there, someone framed me!" You turned to Tara, blinking away tears that stung your eyes, "Tar.. You believe me right? Please tell her. I didn't do anything! Please don't leave me."

"Please.." you begged. You saw the way her gaze slightly cracked, you knew she didn't believe you. You could feel it, you wouldn't care for fucks sake if Mindy, Chad, or Sam didn't believe you. But Tara was different. It felt like a swing to the heart, it hurt so much. It felt heavy.

Tara didn't do anything but give you a hurt look, staring down at her fingers. You expect her to throw her arms around you, tell you that they all got it wrong and you can both live happily ever after in the end. Yet she doesn't.

"I'm sorry Y/N," she forces her shattered voice in her normal tone, swallowing a cry clawing to come out, "I don't trust you anymore, I don't love you. I-I never did. I just.. Don't think you should visit anymore. We're done."

You felt like your whole heart shattered at that moment as you heard her last two words. You looked at her as you sobbed in your hands. Hurt, mournful, betrayed.

All that Tara said was, "You need to get out please," her eyes pink and glossy.

"You don't understand Tara, please I'm begging you-"

"Y/N, I'm not going to say it twi- It's n-not me Tara!" you say, this point a small cry escaping you. The way Tara looks at you is wild.

Your girlfriend's voice raised, with a fury, she wasn't going to say it again, "Get the hell out! Do you need me to say i-it twice? I don't fucking love you! I don't want to see your face again!"

You flinched, you never felt more heartbroken in your life. Your heart hurt, it felt like someone had smashed it with a hammer. Tears that threatened to fall down were now dropping on the floor. All the moments you've spent together were now thrown away, stomped on. You felt your body shaking as you toss the flowers, leaving them to fall on the floor with a thud.

You simply nod, slowly.

"Fine." You say, more flat than ever, turning to leave as you feel the petals get stepped on by your shoe.

All you wanted was to brighten your girlfriend's day, entering with flowers in your hand and just wanting to cuddle her all day long. Yet, here you are, your girlfriend now turning into you ex, flowers dead, no cuddles, no more trust.

Tara felt horrible, the guilt eating her alive. All of her words were lies, she just knew that if you were to separate from her, she would keep you safe. You wouldn't be the target for ghostface if he thought you were just a normal person in Woodsboro. You would be safe. She tried to assure herself that as you slammed the door.

Her eyes met the squished flower that escaped from the bouquet on the floor and she wondered if she'd ever get flowers from you again after everything.

You stared at the picture frame placed on the counter of you and Tara together hugging with matching clothes, you choked on your sobs. Tara nor your friend group had chatted with you since then. Sam had blocked you on social media. At least your other friends had came along and checked up on you to make sure you were okay. Tara had sent a few messages, saying she was sorry that things had ended up like this, but to realize you blocked her.

You couldn't function properly, your eyes were dry with the amount of tears you released in the past week.

It's not your fault, you tried to assure yourself. You weren't ghostface. You can't believe the person you trusted most didn't even put her trust in you.

Maybe it all is your fault. Maybe if you were different, in personality, how much the core 4 really liked you, you wouldn't be here, crying like those teens in the movies that just feast on a gallon of ice cream. It makes you cry a little harder while you hug your teddy bear.

Especially the taunting memory of Tara screaming at you, tears blurring your vision as you stumbled back out of her apartment. Sam's eyes softening just a little bit, not meaning for this to happen. Yet you didn't even try looking into her eyes, too caught up with your own feelings to feel her sorrow.

The past few days, you've locked yourself up, abandoned school. Ignored the core 4, blocked Tara and the other three.

Your mind wandered, you were clouded in your own thoughts as you sobbed angry and hurtful tears. You cried to the point where tears stopped falling, and you were left with feeling nothing and your body feeling sore. Your breathing was still heavy, you let out heavy shaky breaths, but they started to cool down.

You closed your eyes, focusing on your breathing, until you heard your phone buzz from the ground. You picked it up, there was a message.

A part of you expected your friends to check up on you, since that's what they've been doing every since you've stopped going to school. Instead, you were met with a picture from unknown of the abandoned movie theater not too far from here. There, you saw the camera facing a knife pointing towards Tara and Sam, threatening, daring.

Your eyes widened, as you immediately take your keys and bust out the door, grabbing a small knife, maybe you'll need it, unblocking Tara and calling her and all of those you knew must be in there. They're in danger.

Each call leads to voicemail, from both Tara and Sam, you search up their location. The only one shared for you is Tara's. You almost smash it to the front of your phone holder, locating where they are at.

As much as you hurt, you knew that you would never heal knowing that someone you loved was at risk. The car engine roars to life as you head for the theater.

With each texts and call ignored, you get paranoid, worried sick. Stepping on the accelerator of the car, your car turns a corner and is out of sight.

"She fell for it, she's coming your way," a taunting voice rasps into their phone, Ghostface.

"Our plan is just setting into action."

Carefully, you slip into the door of the run down theater. You hear clatters, and immediately you freeze, hiding a corner and peeking out. Tara's scream echoes through the theater, your eyes widen and you look around, for something sharp.

This is a stupid shrine committed to ghostface, you realize. It makes it a little better, at least you're guaranteed a knife to defend and fight with?

You sweep a corner, the room your in is silent, and you creek down the floor board, being greeted with glass display cases.

You're not good with blood, yet there's evidence from ghostface's mark years ago. TV's, a knife laced in the red crimson color. A gag almost leaves your lips, yet you open the display case and your hands grasp around a cool metal. It's a knife alright, not too sharp if you were to drop it you wouldn't cut your whole toe off. Yet it's do-able.

"Tara?" your voice echoes, walking around and exploring, you're frantic. You keep hearing her voice mail ring through your ears and your worry increases.

You thought the room you were in was obsessive with ghostface, yet when you go into the middle of this shrine, it's filled with obsessive things. Masks, robes, knives, even the TV that Stu Macher was killed by. A shiver escapes you.

You look up, and you see the chaos going, glass shattered on the floor, action buzzing around. You see Tara.

"Tara!" You shout, trying to keep your voice low, your eyes meeting the ladder that goes up, you climb on it, grunting in effort. You climb, climb, climb, climb, until you reach the top.

Tara is with Sam, they're talking about their plan, they're a couple hundred feet away from you. The sister's clothes are smothered in blood, Sam's arm has a wound, and you feel sick seeing the blood seeping from your girlfriend's clothes.

Your about to say her name, until you see a shadow emerge. It's not any that you know, this one is dark, tall, more man-like.

It's not until you see the tilt of their head the sliver of light reflecting off their mask. Ghost face.

You don't know what gotten into you from the adrenaline from the moment, but your legs begin to run, move, nothing sounds more fitting than slow motion. His knife lifts from his chest, the sharp metal edge glistening.

You try to scream, the words bubble up in your throat, comes out in a dry cough.

Your legs feel like jelly, run faster, damnit.

They can't see him, he's behind them, tucked just 2 feet away in a corner, yet you see him. You can save Tara and her older sister, you can save the both of them, you have time.

You can save the both of them, your love outplays your brain. It's telling you to stop, you're going to get killed. But your heart overwhelms it, beating quicker, with each beat all you can hear is

Tara

Save

Her!

Tara

You

Have

Time.

The knife ghostface is holding gets brought down.

"Tara!" You finally scream, it comes out as a desperate cry as you lunge towards her. Her eyes turn from the setting below her to you, confusion, then shock as your hands shove her shoulders. The strength you built up finally goes to use, pushing her out of harms way, she shoves into Sam, as they both stumble back.

You hear them both say your name, confusion at first, before the second time they holler it out. It's a scream, yet it dies down in your ears, feeling the cool metal of the blade slam into your shoulder. The ring from Tara's screams fade, replaced with the blood pulsing in your ears. The pain, the sharp knife sinking into the flesh of your shoulder. All you can do is let out a soft cry, too tired to scream.

Your eyes water, looking up at ghostface, the ugly mask boring into your eyes. He tilts his head, shocked for a moment. Until he tilts his head back again, like the target he hit is even better than what he wanted. They didn't expect you so soon.

The knife tears out from your flesh, a sob leaves your throat, kicking and flaring your arms.

"Y/N!" Tara screams your name, this one you can hear. She's crying, sobbing, wailing. Begging for her older sister to let her go and save you.

Sam shushes her, all they can do is watch. All Tara can do is watch you suffer.

His knife slams into you again, your abdomen. You hear a disgusting squelch as it goes in. The pain is unbearable, this stab hurts even more than anything you can think about. You thought the 4 foot thorn going through your foot was bad. You cry, grabbing the knife that's tucked into your pocket and slam it against the black coat, right where the neck meets the shoulder.

A raspy whisper escapes your lips, "F-fuck you." You snarl.

You barely hear him grunt. Yet he doesn't back down, in fact, you hear the disgusting squelch again.

And again.

The pain lessens. You know why. You're dying.

You can't hear it anymore, but there are now several stabs on your abdomen. You collapse, blood seeping through your clothes, your hands, your face. It's warm, dark red, spreading. It oozes out of your wounds, and the squelching sounds are gone. Your eyes flutter, seeing the flurry of the white masked figure leaving you to rot. Your body collapses to the floor with a loud crash.

You saved Tara, you would die before he could ever kill her. Before she could ever die. If Tara died, you'd kill yourself, or you'd die quicker from a broken heart.

Sam's yelling, kicking ghostface as he lets go of you, you can barely see her bringing him down to the bottom floor, both of them collapsing off the second story.

Your eyes begin to close, your breath comes in short heaves and wheezes.

And then, you see her, barely, through your weak vision.

It's blurry at first, but you know it's Tara, who else would look so good with blood all over her face?

She presses her body down to you, her warmth barely seeping through, your body is colder. Those warm, soft eyes are wide, looking so scared, hands pressing down deeper to your stomach, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Fuck, no. Nononono.. Why the hell would you do that?" She yells at you, shaking your body, you whimper.

You barely respond, croak her name out, cough out blood.

She's crying, you realize, she's choking on sobs as she cradles you, lifting your body up to her chest. She smells like your favorite scent, sweet.. light.. vanilla.. So lovely.

You just want to be in her arms forever. Let her sweetness soothe the pain.

"Y/N," she sobs, seeing the way you're struggling to stay conscious, you're only holding on because she's there. She can tell the way your eyes are slowly glassing over, your vision is twitching, blurring, un-focusing.

Don't cry, you want to tell her, even though you know you're here, dying in your girlfriend's arms. But you're too weak to speak, instead, let a slurred murmur leave you. Her hand is clinging to yours, like if she were to let go you would immediately fall away.

"It's okay baby," Tara sniffs, clinging to you. Like if she lets go you'll shatter, "I'm here, help will come soon. Stay with me. Eyes on me baby."

You look at her, your girlfriend, being in her arms. She has a small wound, around her arm to her shoulder, yet it's barely bleeding. Being here, in her arms. It's your favorite thing ever, you've done it so many times to feel her warmth. You never thought you would not be in Tara's arms at night with you buried against her.

Yet you know it's your last time you'll be in them. You can barely feel the warmth she's trying to transfer to you, you're freezing. She senses it too, the way she's hugging you tighter. Pleading you to stay here, with her. The brunette squeezes your hand, distracts you from the pain that's already leaving. Along with your pulse.

"I'm so fucking sorry," she sobs, "I love you so much, you don't fucking understand," she wails. Pulls you closer to her, "I should have never left you, you mean the world to me, I never meant what I said. I t-thought I could protect you if ghostface knew that you were no longer in our circle."

You wheeze, your eyes never looking away from hers. She notices, how you're studying her, like the moment you don't, you'll forget how she looks like in heaven.

Freckles, doe-shaped crying eyes. You lift her hand to your chest, let her feel your heart, to let her know that your giving her your heart, your love. You don't want her to forget about you.

You don't want to die.

Yet if you don't want her to die, you'll die before she could ever.

Tara's still sobbing, ripping her shirt and tying it against your stomach, the blood seeps through, she tightens it. Looks worriedly down at you.

Ugly shapes of swiggles and dots cloud, you see random shapes flying. Try to focus on Tara.

Sirens ring in the distance, Tara looks back, yet immediately looks back at you. A tear falls from her stained mascara cheeks, down your shirt. Weakly, you bring it up and wipe her cheeks. Assure her it'll be okay. Yet she knows it's not. They're just too fucking late.

You saved her. That's all that matters now.

"It's all my fault, I'm so sorry my love. I never meant to hurt you. I never thought it would end so soon. I don't want you to die."

You swallow, blood slightly gurgles through your throat, use your dying strength to speak, "I'm h-here." You croak, "T-tara."

"I love you so much," you slur, hiccupping on a cry. Trace the matching necklace she gifted the two of you years past on her neck. You're wearing it too. Hers was silver, yours was gold. A silver and golden dove.

The blood loss is too much, you can barely speak. But she's here with you, in your last moments. You're able to have a goodbye you might not have had. She might not be ready, but you almost are.

Time wasn't in your favor. It really wasn't.

This isn't goodbye this is a simply see you later.

She's okay, knowing that makes you feel a little more okay. A little more okay and soothe the worries.

Tara plays with your necklace. A proper goodbye. Her eyes glisten with tears, and she leans down, presses her lips to yours. You kiss her, knowing it'll be the one you'll live to feel. Then you slump back down on the concrete. You don't care about anyone but her anymore. Sirens holler, people bust into the theater, and you look up at her, taking off her necklace and putting it into the palm of her hand.

"I w-want you to promise me one thing."

She sniffles, tears wont stop anytime soon, keeps tying cloth around your deep wounds. It's no use. She nods, "Y-yeah?"

"Promise me y-you won't forget me. E-even when you find someone you love, maybe even more than me. You won't t-throw.." You pause, coughing, "T-throw our memories away. Promise me that. That when your h-hands hold theirs, you realize that mine was once warmer. When you're by yourself on F-Friday nights, you'll remember that you used to come to mine and cuddle m-me." You hiccup, losing your train of thought, blinking, your words are barely audible, yet Tara can still make them out.

"...When you look at the stars on the grassy meadow, you'll remember that that's the spot we always w-went to to get our thoughts out of things," you barely giggle, it hurts your stomach. "A-and, when you look at all my pictures, or maybe one day I won't pass your mind for once, you'll be ready to let me go. The thought of me still being here. Y-you'll be able to love, even though I might still scar your heart."

She sniffles, seeing the way you begin to struggle on your words, they grow quieter.

"But I won't let that happen, I don't want your h-heart t-to scar," You place her hand on your chest again, "You can have mine."

Tara swallows her tears, still, they drop.

"I love you, Y/N," she sniffles, it's the same word from every other time you both said you loved each other. Yet this time, it's so fucking different. It's the last time you'll ever hear her say it to you while you're still hear. "I'll never love anyone more than I loved you."

"I love you too, Tara," you whisper. It's the last time she'll ever hear it from you. A small, weak smile cracks on your face as she leans down one more time, kisses you softly, taking the last breath from your lips.

And it's time to go. Your chest stills.

And for the last time, she hears your heart beat one more time.

A heart that once beat for her was gone.

#jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega imagine #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x reader #vada cavell x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #vada cavell x y/n #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x female reader

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bbymunsonx · 7 months ago

Text

birds of a feather

eddie munson x fem reader

summary: eddie munson was your best friend and you were hopelessly in love with him. it was starting to get embarrassing how much you were in love with him. the only problem was that you don't want your boyfriend, steve harrington, to find out.

warnings: MINORS DNI 18+, smut, angst, cheating, attempted SA, oral (f receiving), nipple play, piv (protected), masturbation, sex toys, wet dreams, aftercare, death, no happy ending

word count: 8.1k

notes: sorry!

Ever since you had moved to Hawkins, your life had been a nonstop nightmare. Life before Hawkins wasn’t all that great either, but at least California has sunlight, beaches, great weather… Hawkins was just, Hawkins. Your little sister, Max, and your stepbrother, Billy, were just as excited about this new beginning as you were.

You remember the first day of school like it was yesterday. Stumbling to your locker, you tried the combination five times and your locker wouldn’t open.

“Goddamn it,” you mutter to yourself under your breath. As you tried to open your locker one last time, all your books suddenly slipped out of your hands onto the dirty high school floor causing you to sigh.

“Are you alright?” A voice came up from behind you. Your head whipped around revealing a boy standing right behind you. He had shoulder length hair that was slightly frizzy, tattoos covering his arms and deep chocolate brown eyes. He started to crouch down to pick up the books that slipped from your hands.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay. I just can’t get this fucking thing open.” You groaned, causing the boy to display a slight smile on his face.

“I think it might be because this is my locker. I’m 748. You’re 747.” The boy pointed to the locker directly next to the one that you were trying. You could feel heat rising up your neck onto your cheeks as you were completely embarrassed.

“Oh my god, I feel completely stupid. Thank you…” You waited for him to give you his name.

“Eddie,” He smiled and reached out his hand. You gave Eddie your name and shook his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you Eddie.” You smiled at him before shoving your books in your locker and walking away. Little did you know, since your last names were Mayfield and Munson, Eddie sat next to you in homeroom and the two of you shared a couple classes together. Throughout your first year at Hawkins High, and Eddie’s second year, the two of you became best friends.

***

As you got closer with Eddie, you started to feel something towards him. You started to feel a bit nervous when you saw him. Your palms would get sweaty when he would call you the pet names he usually calls you. Your stomach would flip flop whenever he took a hit of the joint that you two shared. You would feel your heart shatter into a million pieces whenever Eddie would tell you about his latest one night stand. Even though you became extremely close with Eddie during your freshman year, you also became close to the King of Hawkins High, Steve Harrington. You started hanging out with Nancy Wheeler and by association, became friends with Steve. Steve was the most popular guy in school but he wasn’t Eddie.

It wasn’t unusual for you to spend your free time at Eddie’s. Billy was usually having sex with a different girl in his room and there’s only so many sex sounds a person can take before they explode.

You and Eddie both lay on his bed in your pajamas with a scary movie on in the background. Again, nothing unusual. As you take a hit of your joint and pass it to Eddie, you say, “What do you think about Steve Harrington?”

That caused Eddie to start choking on the smoke he had just inhaled. “Jesus, Munson, breathe,” you laughed at him.

“Why do you wanna know how I feel about Harrington?” Eddie scoffed.

“Nancy told me he wants to ask me out,” You looked over at Eddie to try to catch his reaction. You looked down at his hands to see him clenched his fists. “You’re my best friend and I just wanted to see what you thought.”

Eddie took your hand in his. “I want you to be happy, sweetheart. If Harrington makes you happy, then I think you need to have a talk with him.” He smiled at me which made me smile back.

“I have an idea.” You sat up, trying to get Eddie to feel excited about your idea. “Steve’s having a party tomorrow night. Nancy’ll be there, Barb, Robin, Chrissy… a whole bunch of us. Why don’t you come?”

“Princess, I know for a fact that Steve isn’t gonna want me at his party.” Eddie sounded doubtful in your idea.

“He will if you bring this.” I shook Eddie’s bag filled with weed in his face. Eddie rolled his eyes at you.

“You’re lucky I love you.” He responded and placed a wet kiss right on the top of your forehead.

Your stomach sank again.

You and Eddie arrive at Steve’s house a little after the party started and the two of you stuck out like a sore thumb. As you looked around, it seemed like half of the high school was there.

“Hey!” Steve noticed you across the room and walked right over to you. “Thanks for coming! You look… wow!”

“Thanks, Steve,” you blushed. “You know Eddie, right?” You tried to introduce them to one another.

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, Munson.” Steve barely looked at Eddie as he said that.

“Harrington.” Eddie responded coldly. Suddenly, the room was filled with so much tension.

“Alright, I’m gonna go grab a drink.” You said as you were walking away, trying to break the tension.

“Come out back when you’re ready. We’re all hanging by the pool.” Steve yelled at you while walking over to the back door.

As you walk over to the kitchen, you run into your stepbrother, Billy, walking in the opposite direction.

“What are you doing here?” He questions rudely.

“Um, I was invited. What are you doing here? You still obsessed with showing Steve how much of a big boy you are?” You smirked at Billy and continued walking.

“Watch it!” He yelled at you, to which you replied by throwing up your middle finger behind your back.

Steve’s fridge was filled with beer so you took two, one for you and another for Eddie, and headed out to the backyard.

There were a bunch of chairs set up outside with a fire pit in the middle of them. Sitting there was Steve, Nancy, Robin, Barb, Chrissy, Tommy, Carol, and lastly, Eddie. “Hi, guys!” You greeted the group before handing Eddie his beer. You took the empty seat between Eddie and Steve and gazed into the fire.

One beer quickly became two and two beers quickly became three. The night was going pretty smoothly and it seemed as though even Eddie was having a great time. He spent a majority of the time making small talk with Chrissy Cunningham, who was seated next to him. After the conversation began to die down a bit, Robin exclaimed, “Let’s play a game!”

Steve initially groaned, “Games, Robin? How old are we? Ten?”

“Games could be fun,” you smirked over at Steve.

“What kind of games do you want to play?” Steve caved in, seeing your eyes light up.

“Let’s play truth or dare,” Robin smirked. You sighed internally. Truth or dare never ends well.

“Alright, let’s do it.” Steve agreed.

After a few rounds, it was Eddie’s turn. So far, Robin and Nancy kissed, Chrissy had to choose somebody to flash (luckily for her she chose Robin), and Steve told us all the last time he had sex… which was right before he had met me.

“Truth or dare, Munson?” Steve looked over at Eddie.

“Dare,” he responded coldly.

“I dare you to kiss Chrissy.” Steve laughed. “The freak kissing the prettiest girl at Hawkins High.” Your stomach dropped when you heard Steve call Chrissy the prettiest girl in school.

You looked over at Eddie with wide eyes, not anticipating him to actually do it.

“It’s okay, Eddie. It’s a game,” Chrissy consented as Eddie shifted over to get closer to her. He reached his hand out to grip her neck, ever so slightly. They both closed their eyes and leaned into one another. All you could hear was Chrissy gasp into the kiss, so you could only guess that Eddie had slipped his tongue into her mouth. A classic Munson move.

“Alright, Munson. I told you to kiss her, not eat her face.” Steve laughed. You could feel Steve look over at you as your eyes were glued to the fire sitting in front of you. You were trying not to let the tears that were glossing your eyes fall down your cheeks. Eddie was your best friend. That’s all.

“Mayfield, it's your turn, babe.” Steve started. Your stomach flipped as that was the first time Steve had called you babe. “Truth or dare?”

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or your emotions from watching Eddie and Chrissy make out, but suddenly, you had other plans. You whispered over to Steve, “Follow me. I have another idea.” You got up off the chair and took his hand in yours, slowly dragging him up.

“Sorry, folks! Gotta go!” Steve laughed to the group as you dragged him into the house. You had looked back at the group, who were already back to playing the game, but not Eddie. He was staring daggers into you and Steve. You loved every second of it.

You had dragged Steve through his filled house, up his stairs and into his bedroom. After the two of you were in the bedroom, you slammed the door shut and immediately connected his lips to yours.

“What do you have up your sleeves, Mayfield?” Steve whispered in between kisses.

“Nancy told me that you liked me. Is that true?” You suddenly gained the confidence to ask him.

“I do.” Steve said while batting his eyelashes at you. “I thought you liked Munson?”

You pulled away from Steve to look at him completely, “Why…why would you say that?”

“It’s just that everyone thought you guys were a couple. You are always together so I just figured you were screwing or something.”

“I’m all yours, Steve.” You had connected your lips back to his, deepening the kiss while nudging him towards the bed. You laid back on the bed as he laid on top of you, ravishing you. As he kissed his way down your neck, you involuntarily groaned.

“Steve,” you whimpered. Just as Steve lifted your shirt over your head, his bedroom door immediately swung open, ricocheting off the wall. Eddie was at the door eating Chrissy’s face with his hands cupping her breasts through her shirt.

“Fuck, Eddie! Get out!” You threw your shirt at him to get him to leave.

“Oh sorry! Thought this was the spare!” Eddie exclaimed as he and Chrissy left. Chrissy gently closed the door behind them.

“Where were we?” Steve cocked an eyebrow at you while kissing down your neck. Steve really took his time with you, but it was very obvious that Eddie was not taking his time with Chrissy. Her moans were already filling the entirety of Steve’s upstairs.

“Fuck, Eddie!” Just the way you had yelled at Eddie earlier. “You’re so good! Yeah…yeah right there!”

You hadn’t even noticed that Steve was pumping in and out of you, his cock splitting you open. All you could focus on was your best friend having sex in the next room, and your heart was split in two because he wasn’t having sex with you.

***

It’s been two months since you and Steve have been official, and you’ve never been happier. After a couple of dates, Eddie and Chrissy figured out that they just weren’t compatible. Not the way you and Steve were. Though you and Steve were together, you still spent a majority of your time with Eddie. You wanted to be anywhere that wasn’t home. Steve understood the dynamic of your friendship and he was completely fine with it. Or so you thought.

After a long night of smoking and watching horror movies, the two of you fell asleep in Eddie’s bed. Something woke you up out of your sleep. The sound of your name being spoken, or rather whimpered. As you started to regain consciousness, you felt Eddie behind you, deep asleep, rutting his clothed crotch into your clothed ass, while whimpering your name. You debated letting him finish, but the thought of Steve popped into your head, causing you to wake Eddie.

“Eds, get up!” you nudged him, causing him to jump awake.

“What! What is it?” He seemed genuinely confused. You pointed down to his very obvious boner. “Was I…”

“Just a little,” you cringed.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, Mayfield.” Eddie covered his face with his hands, obviously very embarrassed.

“Eds, it’s fine. We can’t control our bodies and what they do.” Who were you to judge Eddie with the obvious wetness pooling at your center. “I think I’m just gonna go home.” You started to get up before Eddie quickly grabbed your hand.

“Please don’t go. I can just go to the bathroom real quick and take care of this and then we can start another movie. Just please. Stay.” Eddie pleaded with you. You sighed and shook your head.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds.” You rubbed his hand with your thumb before letting go. The feeling of his hand on yours felt more like cheating than waking up to him grinding into your ass.

The last thing you could hear before walking out of Eddie’s room was him softly cursing at himself under his breath. A part of you felt awful for leaving him, but another part of you would have taken things to another level if you’d stayed, and you couldn’t hurt Steve like that.

As you walked into your room, you plopped on your bed and let out a huge groan. Thankfully, it was the middle of the night meaning everyone was asleep. The silence of the house only caused the thoughts in your head to get louder and louder. The feeling of Eddie’s cock rutting against your ass. This has never happened before, but you would have chalked it up to Eddie having a wet dream about a cheerleader or something. But he was whimpering your name. Desperate whimpers as his grinding became more desperate. More needy.

The more you thought about it, the more you were aware of every single part of your body. Your heartbeat was too loud. You could feel the beads of sweat dripping between your breasts. You could feel your clit begin to pulsate as it was desperate to be touched. You bit your lip as you quietly reached over to your nightstand, pulling out your trusty vibrator. Because of how worked up you were, you knew it wasn’t going to take much to make you orgasm.

You teased yourself at first. Trailing your finger around your neck and down to your tits. Luckily, you weren’t wearing a bra, and your arousal caused your nipples to become rock hard. Your fingers slowly started to circle around your clothed nipple. You softly exhale at the contact. You were planning on teasing yourself for a lot longer but you couldn’t take it anymore.

In one swift movement, your shorts and panties were laying at the foot of your bed with your vibrator making contact with your clit. Fuck, you groaned at the contact. Your brain kept picturing Eddie and what he was doing earlier in the evening. You loved Steve. Steve treated you so well and made you so happy. But there was nothing you wanted more in the world than for Eddie to have kept going. For him to wake up to realize what he was doing and keep going. For him to climb on top of you and fuck you.

When you turned the vibrator up to the higher setting, you were already close. Eddie was in your head egging you on. Telling you how girl of a girl you are and how needy you are for him.

As your orgasm washed over you, your hand fell to your mouth to stop you from screaming his name. The name of the guy who wasn’t even your boyfriend.

The next day, you didn’t see Eddie at all in the morning. Since you’re always locker neighbors, he usually waits at your locker for you, but this morning he was a no show. You were at your locker gathering your books when all of a sudden, someone came up behind you and wrapped his hands around you, lifting you up. Automatically thinking it’s Eddie, you screamed, “Eds! What are you doing?!”

The arms put you down, causing you to turn around. Steve was standing behind you with a confused look painted on his face. “Eddie?”

“Shit, Steve! I’m sorry!” You pecked him on the lips. “I’m just used to meeting Eddie here. Creature of habit, I guess.”

Steve let out a fake sounding chuckle as he smiled down at you. “Hey, where were you last night? I called your house and got an earful of Hargrove.” Steve scoffed.

“Oh, Eddie and I were having one of our movie nights.” You smiled innocently. Steve doesn’t need to know specifics.

Steve reached out to your hands while whispering your name, “I think we need to talk.” The bell rang for classes to start but classes were the last thing you were interested in at the moment.

“What’s up, babe?” You questioned.

“Look at me in the eyes and tell me you're not in love with him.” Steve said sternly. Your throat began to feel dry as you found it difficult to look at Steve.

“I…Steve…” You began.

“I know how close you are with Munson. I know you two are best friends. But you are my girlfriend. Not his. I really hate to do this to you, but I need you to choose. Me or him.” Steve said sternly. He was actually serious.

Behind Steve, you noticed the entire reason why Eddie didn’t meet you at your locker this morning. All you could see was him leaning against a locker while talking to a girl in a cheerleader uniform. You could hear the way she chuckled all the way over here.

“I’m yours, Steve. Only yours.” You grabbed his face and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips before heading to class.

It’s been a couple days since you stopped talking to Eddie cold turkey. A part of you felt extremely guilty, watching him slowly pull away, but the other part of you didn’t feel bad at all. Eddie was a player, plain and simple. You and Steve had something special and you wouldn't jeopardize your relationship over something that wasn’t real.

Since you stopped talking to Eddie, you spent more and more time at Steve’s house. It was really great being able to spend time with him like this. On this particular night, you told Steve you wouldn't be able to spend the night because you had a drama club meeting.

When you arrived at the Drama Room, you noticed Eddie in the room, setting up the table for his Hellfire Club meeting. Unfortunately, you were way too loud opening the door so you couldn’t slowly back away. You and Eddie had just stared at each other for a few moments in silence before you let out, “I’m sorry. I thought I had drama practice tonight.”

“Oh, sorry. They’re in the cafeteria tonight.” Eddie replied sorrowfully.

“Thanks.” You quickly turned around to run out of the room. Eddie tried to call after you, but you had already made it halfway down the hallway.

Drama practice ran quite late tonight, as the parking lot was completely empty by the time you left the school. You sort of expected Eddie’s van to still be here but Hellfire Club must’ve let out early tonight.

Not feeling like walking all the way home, you decided to stop at Steve’s house since it was closer. After five minutes of walking, you arrived at the Harrington house. You reached down and took the spare key from underneath the welcome mat and let yourself in.

“Steve!” You yelled. Silence.

Music blasted from up the stairs so you decided to follow the noise. The music was coming from Steve’s room. That wasn’t the only noise coming from Steve’s room.

As you opened the door, you were greeted with Nancy on top of Steve, completely naked. She was rocking back and forth on his cock making him whimper, in a way you’ve never heard.

“Steve?” You choked. Steve and Nancy both stopped dead in their tracks and looked over at you.

“Shit!” They yelled at the same time. “I can explain!” Steve yelled after you. You burst into tears as you ran out of Steve’s room, down the stairs, and out of his house, into the pouring rain.

Your house was a ten minute walk and Eddie’s was a twenty minute walk, yet you chose to run to Eddie’s house. You just wanted to be in the arms of your best friend.

Extremely out of breath from running and sobbing, you finally made it to Eddie’s trailer. Your hands started banging on the door waiting for him to answer. You could barely see from the rain dripping down your forehead and the tears falling from your eyes.

After a minute, Eddie arrived at the door with wide eyes.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He questioned.

“I went to Steve’s and he was fucking Nancy.” You whispered, but Eddie heard you loud and clear.

Eddie whispered your name under his breath before you grabbed his face in your hands and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips. The two of you melted into the kiss for a few seconds. The butterflies in your stomach were relentless as you always wanted to know what it would feel like to have his lips on yours. Though, you wished it would be under better circumstances. You let go as soon as you heard someone’s voice coming from inside the trailer.

“Eds! Who is it?” A girl’s voice called. The girl who he was flirting with this morning..

Eddie whispered your name before your hands covered your mouth.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here. I’m sorry, I have to go.” You ran away back into the rain, slowly making your way home.

***

It’s been six months since you and Steve inevitably broke up. Believe it or not, you two started to become good friends. You had hated him for a little bit in the beginning, but even though he was physically cheating on you, you had mentally been cheating on him for a lot longer.

After the night you and Eddie kissed, you two hadn’t kissed again. You haven't even talked about it. The only thing he asked was if you were okay after everything with Steve. He continued to date other girls and you continued to date other guys.

That was until one night you had gone out with Jason Carver. The two of you had a great time seeing a movie, but when you had gotten back into the car, he had tried to force himself on you. Tried to get you to do things you did not want to do. He grabbed your shirt so hard it tore. You’re favorite shirt. Funny enough, it was the shirt you were wearing the first time you met Eddie. You were finally able to push yourself off of him and run. Every time you need to run somewhere, you find yourself running right to Eddie Musnon.

This time, you didn’t care if there was another woman in there, you were going to burst right in. As soon as you burst in the door, you ran all the way down to Eddie’s room, where he was laying in his bed in his pajamas, strumming at his guitar with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He instantly put his guitar on the ground and his cigarette on his ashtray before jumping out of bed.

He grabbed the fabric of your torn shirt and traced it in his fingers. His hands grabbed onto your shoulders before looking you right into the eyes. “Who did this to you?” His voice was almost so deep it sounded as though he was growling.

“Jason Carver.” You whispered.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Eddie grabbed the keys to his van before gently pushing you aside. You grabbed onto his arm, not wanting him to go anywhere.

“No. Don’t go. I need you.” You pleaded with him, almost sounding completely desperate.

“Okay, princess. I’ll stay.” He walked back towards you. Eddie reached into his drawer to grab you a pair of sweatpants, a t- shirt, and a towel. “How about you shower tonight off, yeah?”

“Thanks, Eds.” You whispered. You’ve showered at his house mutual times but this time felt more personal. As soon as you got into the shower, you immediately lost it and started sobbing into your hands.

After about twenty minutes in the shower, you put on Eddie’s clothes and gazed at yourself in the mirror. There was just something that looked so right about you wearing his baggy clothes. You slowly brought up the collar of the t-shirt and inhaled it. It smelled just like him, and that brought you a tiny amount of comfort. You exited the bathroom and went back into Eddie’s room to see him still laying on his bed watching a movie on the television. He looked over and saw you standing there, patting on the side of the bed next to him. Your side.

“I knew I shouldn’t have gone out with him.” You groaned as you plopped down on the bed.

“Did he…” Eddie began before you quickly cut him off.

“No. No. I got away before anything else could happen.” You sounded relieved, as did Eddie. “Eddie…” You whispered, turning your head to the side to look at him.

“Hm?” He whispered back, looking back at you.

“Remember when Steve and I broke up and I came here and kissed you?”

“I do.” Eddie nodded.

“I should’ve done that sooner.” You whispered, not even sure if Eddie could hear you. “I’ve gone out with all these bullshit guys, just to try to get over you.”

“Over me?” Eddie questioned, to which you nodded. “You like me?”

“Of course I do, Eddie,” You scoffed, feeling stupid. “I’ve literally been in love with you since the first time I saw you. I can’t pretend anymore. My heart beats for you and only you. Pretending that I’m not in love with you… it’s killing me.”

Eddie’s hand slowly slid over to your side of the bed, on top of your hand that was lying by your side. You turn your hand over to invite his fingers to interlock with yours, which he does. He gazes at you with loving eyes as his fingers begin to play with yours.

“Please say something.” You whispered.

“You’re my best friend, Mayfield. You are… everything. I was a pussy for not saying anything but I just loved you too much, I was scared. I was scared to lose you. I love you in every sense of the word. I don’t think I can love you any more than I already do. My beautiful girl” Eddie smiled down at you while caressing your cheek.

“You love me?” A tear escaped your eye.

“Don’t be so surprised.” Eddie chucked at you before leaning down and planting a gentle kiss on your lips. You didn’t hesitate to immediately kiss him back. You haven’t felt his kiss in so long but it immediately felt like home.

As things became more heated, you whimpered as he slipped his tongue in your mouth. A classic Munson move.

“You alright, baby?” Eddie questioned because of your reaction.

“I’m more than okay,” You smiled into the kiss. Eddie readjusted himself as he climbed on top of you, to get better leverage while kissing you. You whimpered to yourself as Eddie’s lips left yours. His lips were all over your face. All over your cheeks, your forehead, even your nose. He couldn’t get enough of your face.

When he was pleased with the work he did on your face, his lips began to travel south. He licked and sucked on your neck, obviously leaving hickeys. You were Eddie’s and everyone was going to know it.

“Fuck, Eds,” you groaned as he continued to mark his territory. You began to squirm under his touch, everything on your body becoming way too sensitive. He had barely touched you and you were already coming undone underneath him.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” Eddie taunted above you, knowing exactly what you needed. He lifted his shirt off your body and lucky enough, you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Need you to touch me.” You gasped as his warm mouth made contact with your nipple.

“Christ, Mayfield. You were hiding these from me this whole time?” Eddie continued to taunt. He was repeating the licking and sucking he had performed on your neck but on both of your nipples. While his mouth was attached to one nipple, he was rolling the other one with his thumb and forefinger. He wanted to make sure they were getting the same amount of attention. As he licked, sucked, and bit, you were trying your hardest to grind into him to relieve your throbbing clit. Everytime your hips bucked up, Eddie would back away slightly leaving him out of touch.

“Tsk tsk,” Eddie smirked. “You gotta be patient, baby. I’ll take care of you.” His hand returned to your face and cupped your cheeks as he gave you a filthy kiss filled with lust.

Eddie continued to kiss down your body until he reached the band of his sweatpants. He placed a wet kiss right above the band of his sweatpants and used his fingers to play with the band.

“Can I?” Eddie asked to which you nodded. “I need you to talk, princess.”

“Yes, please take them off.” You groaned in frustration. Eddie took the band of his sweatpants in his teeth and slowly dragged them down exposing the lacey pair of underwear you had worn for your date tonight. You didn’t even wear the underwear for Jason. You just wanted to wear them for yourself.

“Fuck,” you heard Eddie groan under his breath over your clothed cunt. Eddie lazily dragged his fingers down your clothed slit, smirking at the sight of you squirming. He lowered his face near your core when your breath hitched.

“I’ve never-” you began, watching Eddie slowly raise his head.

“You’re telling me that Steve never ate you out?” Eddie asked, almost angrily. You shook your head no. “That’s just not gonna do, princess. Do you trust me?”

“With my life, Eds.” You whispered. As soon as those words left your mouth, Eddie leaned down and planted a light kiss right over your clothed clit. If you weren’t so turned on, you may not have been able to feel it.

You bucked your hips as Eddie reached for the band of your underwear and slowly shimmed them down your body and he placed them right into the pocket of his pajama pants. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned to himself at the sight of your bare pussy. “You’re so wet. All this for me?” Eddie taunted.

“I’m always this wet for you, Munson.” You moaned. That’s all it took for Eddie to lay back down on the bed and start kissing up your thighs. The feeling of his rings wrapped around your upper thighs were enough to make you shiver. After he had kissed his way up your thighs, he flattened his tongue against your hole and licked from your hole to your throbbing clit. The initial contact between his tongue and your clit was enough to make you moan, the loudest you’ve ever moaned.

“God you taste so good, baby.” Eddie moaned into your cunt. “I could eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner.” He continued to swirl his tongue around your clit as he slowly slid a finger inside of you, pumping it in and out. Your back immediately lifted off the bed as you began to grind on Eddie’s face.

“I’ve waited so long to hear you moan for me, baby.” Eddie groaned. The vibrations of him talking added to the pressure he was already applying to your clit.

“Just like that, fuck, you feel so good inside me, Eds.” You were able to gasp through your moans. If you listened closely enough, you were able to hear Eddie moaning too, desperately. The sounds of Eddie moaning mixed with the feeling of his tongue and his fingers were enough to push you over the edge. Eddie could feel you clench around his fingers, a sign that you were close. As his one hand was busy working you towards an orgasm, his other hand slowly reached up and interlaced his fingers with yours.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-” you cried out before the cord in your lower belly snapped, causing you to orgasm all over Eddie’s face.

“Atta girl.” Eddie coached you as you continued to ride out your high on your face. When he lifted his face, his lips and nose were shiny, covered in you. “That was the fucking hottest thing I’ve ever done.” Eddie quickly moved back up the bed and showered you in kisses. The taste of cigarettes plus the faint taste of you on his tongue was enough to make you cum again.

You reached down and briefly touched Eddie’s throbbing cock through his sweatpants. “Your turn, my love.”

“I’m not one to turn down a blowjob, but if I don’t get to fuck you right now, I’m actually going to lose my mind.” Eddie laughed as he continued kissing you. You laid back in the bed as you watched him take off his sweatpants and his boxers. Your eyes almost fell out of your head because of how big he was.

“Fuck, Eddie.” You had to stop yourself from drooling at the sight of him. His throbbing cock was dripping with beads of precum, anxiously waiting to be inside of you. Eddie reached to his nightstand and brought out a condom before rolling it on his cock.

He leaned over you and placed a sloppy kiss on your lips. He took his cock in his hands and started lazily trailing it up your slit and resting the tip right on your clit, causing you to whimper.

“Eddie if you don’t fuck me right now I’m gonna hit you,” you groaned frustrated. You felt so empty and all you wanted was to feel him slam into you.

“Such a dirty girl. You just can’t wait for my cock, huh?” Eddie teased.

“I just want you so bad. I’ve always wanted you.” You grabbed his face and roughly kissed him, and he took that as the opportunity to slowly push himself into you. Your open mouth kiss quickly turned into a moan as you felt yourself trying to adjust to his length.

“You alright, princess?” Eddie whispered.

“Yes. God, you’re so big. Biggest cock in Hawkins.” You kissed him more as he continued to push into you. Eddie continued to push into you as you cried out.

“Alright, sweetheart. You’ve got all of me.” Eddie groaned as he started to slowly move in and out. As he started to move out, you wrapped your legs around his waist, not wanting him to go anywhere.

“Christ, Eddie. Can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this,” you groaned as you started to leave scratches up and down his back. Every time your nails would scrape his skin, he would filthily moan into your mouth. You whimpered every time his guitar necklace would dangle and tickle your neck. The two of you just kept making the dirtiest noises, and neither of you could get enough.

“This is so fucking embarassing, but I’m not gonna last much longer.” Eddie moaned into your mouth as his pace began to quicken.

“It’s okay, Eds. Me too.” You whimpered as Eddie continuously hit your g-spot. As he got closer, he reached down and started rubbing circles around your clit, causing you to tightly clench around his length.

“I’m gonna cum, baby.” Eddie groaned and at the same exact time, you came around his cock. As he was still inside you, his forehead gently laid on top of yours. His bangs stuck to the sweat that was dripping down your forehead.

“That was…” You started.

“Incredible.” He finished. He slowly pulled himself out of you, causing you to shiver because of how sensitive you were. Eddie rolled next to you to catch his breath for a moment. “I’ll be right back.” He kissed you on the forehead before rolling out of bed and grabbing you a change of clothes and a wet washcloth.

“Here… let me,” Eddie softly said while spreading your legs open and cleaning you off with the wash cloth. No man has ever done this for you before and it makes your heart feel so full. “I left your change of clothes in the bathroom. Go get changed and I’ll get us a snack.” He placed a kiss on your lips before leaving the room to go to the kitchen.

All you could do was lay in his bed and smile like a fucking idiot.

***

It’s been three years since you and Eddie professed your love for one another. You expected these years to go differently, but every year was another challenge. Hawkins had become cursed. Monsters roamed the town that you called home. Your friend, Barb, was killed. You watched as Billy was impaled by a gigantic monster in the middle of the mall. And now your sister was being targeted by a powerful wizard, whom we cannot see. Max was only being targeted after Vecna had killed Chrissy.

Chrissy was truly struggling, so you offered for her to come over Eddie’s house to smoke and help get her mind off of everything. Since you and Eddie became a couple, you were able to mend your relationships with Chrissy, Steve and even Nancy. All that mattered was that you and Eddie had each other. But now that Chrissy was killed in Eddie’s trailer, the entire town of Hawkins had labeled Eddie as a “Satanic Murderer”.

You had spent the entire week in hiding with Eddie. You’d rather the town label you as a Satanic Murderer than leave Eddie alone. It had been an exhausting week, but you had been hopeful that the group would find a solution.

The two of you spent the week reminiscing on your years together, even when you two were just friends. The nights you would spend over at his trailer, sprawled out on Eddie’s bed looking at him with nothing but pure love in your eyes as he strummed on his guitar. The time the two of you volunteered at the Snowball dance for the kids. The Christmases you would spend at the Munson trailer with Eddie and Wayne where it would end with Eddie mercilessly beating you in a snowball fight.

The only solution anyone could come up with was that you all had to go to the Upside Down yourselves to kill Vecna. There was no other way.

You kissed Max on the forehead as she made her way into the Creel House. “I love you, Max. I’ll see you soon, alright?” You had to stop the tears from escaping your eyes. “Lucas… take care of her.” You hugged Lucas as they left the RV that Eddie stole.

The plan was that Steve, Robin, and Nancy were to go to the Creel House in the Upside Down to kill Vecna. You stuck with Eddie and Dustin, as you were all tasked with creating a diversion for the demobats.

Eddie and Dustin set up an amp on the top of Eddie’s trailer so he could play his guitar to lure the bats right to us. As he played, you sat next to Dustin with tears in your eyes. A part of you was completely fucking terrified. In the distance, you saw the bats start to fly towards the trailer.

“Let’s go!” You yelled at Dustin and Eddie as you jumped off the top of the trailer. Dustin and Eddie followed right after you. As the three of you were safely in the trailer, the group of you jumped up and down, celebrating how badass that was.

You hugged Dustin and then latched your arms around Eddie’s neck, tightly. Never wanting to let him go.

“Alright, let’s get out of here.” Dustin said, grabbing on to the rope before stopping. There was a weird noise coming from the back of the trailer.

“What’s that?” You questioned, before bats started letting themselves into the trailer one by one. The three of you must’ve missed something while you were protecting the trailer.

“Shit! Dustin, go!” You screamed at Dustin as he climbed up the rope and flipped upside down on Eddie’s bed.

“Go, baby! I’m right behind you!” Eddie handed you the rope and rubbed the bottom of your back as he nudged you up the rope. Your muscles burned as you pulled yourself up but then you flipped over on Eddie’s bed, right next to Dustin. You pushed yourself up to see Eddie just standing there, his gaze moving from the gate to the bats.

“Eddie?” You whimpered, unsure what he was doing.

“EDDIE! COME ON!” Dustin yelled, his hands on his head in distress.

Eddie looked us through the gate before making direct eye contact with me, “I’m sorry.” He lifted his makeshift weapon and used it to cut the rope down, destroying the tether from our world to the Upside Down.

“Eddie, no.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. You didn’t know what he was doing.

“EDDIE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? NO!” Dustin continued to yell.

“I’m buying more time.” Eddie said before moving the other mattress out of the way and running out of the trailer. Your blood had run cold, your eyes unable to focus on what was happening. Dustin was trying to find a ladder or something he could use to jump through the gate.

“Dustin, you need to hoist me up there. And then you need to go.” You grabbed Dustin by the shoulders, trying to get him to pay attention.

“No,” Dustin whimpered.

“DUSTIN! You need to get me up there!” You raised your voice, immediately feeling guilty. You had never raised your voice at Dustin. He was like your little brother.

“Okay, okay. On three.” Dustin sadly shook his head and began to count up to three.

One…Two…Three…

You jumped on Dustin’s hands as they pushed you up to the gate. Your hands had grabbed onto the gate, enough for you to push yourself through. After mustering up the strength, you were able to push yourself enough that you fell right through, right onto the hard floor of Eddie’s trailer.

“FUCK,” you screamed in pain. You had clearly landed on your ankle wrong, but that didn’t matter to you. You needed to find Eddie. Dustin was shouting your name from the other side but you paid no attention to him as you ran out of the trailer and into the Upside Down.

You burst through the doors and looked all around, about half a mile away, a herd of demobats surrounded Eddie. He was laying on the ground, trying to fight them off but obviously failing.

“HEY! OVER HERE! COME AND GET ME!” You screamed loud enough to get the bats attention. You started banging on every gate you could to get them to get off of Eddie. As the bats started to fly towards you, all you could see was that Eddie wasn’t moving.

Just as the bats were about to get to you, they suddenly stopped in their path just to turn around and fly in the completely opposite direction. Most likely towards the Creel House. Towards Steve, Nancy, and Robin, but you didn’t care right now.

It took you a minute to limp over to Eddie, who still wasn’t moving.

“Eddie?” You whimpered, as you knelt down to him. His chest was moving up and down very slightly.

“There’s my beautiful girl.” He coughed out. Spurts of blood dribbled on his chin as he coughed.

“We have to get you out of here, Eds.” You tried to stay calm and lift him up. He was completely limp and you weren’t strong enough to lift him on your own. “Can you move?” All he did was shake his head.

“I…I didn’t run away, right? I just wanted to help.” He asked with tears in his eyes causing you to almost lose it.

“No, sweetheart. You didn't run.” You caressed his cheeks in your hands and wiped his tears with your thumb.

“I love you so much. I’m gonna miss you,” Eddie whimpered before turning his head slightly to kiss your hand. This is when you just let your tears come out. There’s no point in trying to fight them anymore.

“I will love you for the rest of my life, Eddie Munson.” You closed your eyes and knelt down to plant a soft kiss on Eddie’s lips. When you lifted your head, you noticed he wasn’t moving. He wasn’t blinking. He wasn’t Eddie, not anymore.

“Eddie?” You whispered, as you started to shake him slightly. He still wasn’t moving. Sobs started to escape your mouth as you didn’t have the strength to hold them in anymore. You held his head in your hands, slightly closing his eyes to make it look like he was sleeping. Eddie was always so pretty when he slept.

Steve, Nancy, and Robin started running towards you screaming that you had to go. They stopped dead in their tracks as they realized what had happened.

Nancy and Robin stood there with their hands covering their mouths. Steve came running over to you and crouched next to you and whispered your name, “We have to go.”

“I can’t leave him here. I can’t leave him here!” You sobbed onto Eddie’s shirt. Steve didn’t have the choice but to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder as you screamed and cried.

“NO! STEVE! PUT ME DOWN! NO! EDDIE!” You screamed and sobbed and choked. As Steve walked back to the trailer, the vision of Eddie laying in the middle of the trailer park became more and more faint. You had just left him there. The love of your life. The bane of your existence.

***

The worst part about mourning Eddie is that you couldn’t mourn him. Though most of Hawkins was in ruins, everyone was celebrating the fact that Eddie Munson was presumed dead. The town was relieved to know that such a scary man had perished in the “earthquake” that shook the town. No one knew that Eddie had died for them. He died to give Hawkins a chance at a better future.

You sat outside on a park bench in silence with Wayne Munson. Dustin had told him what happened a few days prior, but this was the first time you saw Wayne since Eddie died. As soon as he laid eyes on you, the two of you completely fell apart. You melted in his arms as you started to sob.

After your sobs started to subside, the two of you just sat in each other's presence. You started to reminisce on times you and Eddie shared together. Times you’ll never get back.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that we’ve only been friends for like, six months? I feel like we’ve been friends longer than that.” Eddie laughed after taking a hit of his joint. The two of you were extremely high and at this point, you would just say stupid shit to one another.

“It’s because we’re birds of a feather, Munson.” You laughed while looking over at him, eyes full of love, but he didn’t notice. Not yet.

“What the fuck is that?” He said, dumbfounded.

“It means we’re kind of like the same person. Platonic soulmates, if you will.” You smiled up at him.

“That’s really profound. I like that. But birds are annoying,” Eddie smiled, getting higher by the second. “Wait, that’s even better. If you see a bird outside, that’ll just be…like… an extension of me. They can annoy you when I’m not around.”

You laughed, “What do you mean ‘when you’re not around’? You’re up my ass 24/7.”

“You never know, sweetheart. I gotta keep you on your toes.” Eddie took another hit of his joint.

You snapped back into reality with a sad smile on your face. You’ll miss those small conversations with Eddie more than anything. Just as you focused back on the present, a small bird, a baby finch, landed right next to you on the bench. All it did was look up at you for a moment before it flew away. Eddie.

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