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eternallyhyucks · 7 months ago

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first love | choi yeonjun, wc: 2.5k

— unrequited love, angst

— this is my first long fic pls bare w me😭

𖤐 ྀ

your crush on yeonjun wasn’t like the rest of the crushes you’ve had in your life. this time you were actually friends and you spent a lot of time together. but after a while, you felt like maybe your crush was more than just that.

the first time you met yeonjun was on his first day at your job. you had only started about 2 weeks before and he walked up to the register saying it was his first day. even before he walked up you had noticed how cute he was when he stood in the line, so when he said he was working there, you felt a little flustered.

so his first day began, and you had to start training him. unfortunately for him, you were also still a trainee yourself. about an hour into the shift, while you were showing him how to make a drink, your other coworker came up behind the two of you to see how you were doing and noticed the color of the drink was a little off. he took the cup in his hand, smelled the tea, and that’s when you realized your mistake: you used to wrong tea. you and yeonjun giggled about it but you still couldn’t help but feel a little embarassed.

before your shift ended, you built up the courage to ask yeonjun for his instagram. he agreed and you started looking for a sticky note for him to write on. after looking for a minute, you realized the store probably ran out so you just grabbed a sharpie and told him to write it on your hand. the moment he took your hand to write his username, you felt your breath hitch.

as soon as you got home, you went to follow him and as you were scrolling through his highlights, you noticed he had a girlfriend. you laughed a little because it made sense.

so you moved on. at least it wasn’t an actual crush. you just thought he was cute.

—

so the two of your continued working together and became pretty close, along with the rest of your coworkers.

and any thought of having a crush on yeonjun was gone.

.. until a couple months later.

after a long closing shift together, you felt kind of giddy on the drive home. weird.

two days later you had another shift together, and afterwards everyone was going to get dinner together.

you felt the same weird, slightly giddy feeling again during the shift.

during the dinner, you two didn’t sit at the same table, so you weren’t thinking about him, but when you were near him you felt something in your stomach.

a couple days went by and you had a shift with him again. this time you went home and realized you might like him. you had to remind yourself that you can’t, he has a girlfriend. and yet, your brain wouldn’t listen to you.

a week went by and he randomly texted you saying he had to tell you something.

what’s up?

i feel like you should know since we’re pretty close but my girlfriend and i broke up

oh.

omg i’m sorry

it’s okay, ig it was inevitable

of all the times they could’ve broken up, it had to be when you realized you had a crush on him. of course.

unfortunately for you, the two of you started texting each other way more than usual, which made your crush grow even more.

—

after a couple weeks of silently crushing, you decided to tell your best friend about it. for some reason, she said she saw it from a mile away. as in, ever since your first interaction with him.

you also chose to tell your closest coworker about “someone you have a crush on” without revealing anything about who it is and she kept feeding into your delusions saying he definitely liked you back. but there was no way he did. he had just gotten out of a pretty long relationship. even if he did, you didn’t want to be a rebound.

a month went by and your crush on yeonjun had only gotten worse. the two of you texted everyday. he told you random details about his day and he texted you good morning and goodnight and he even told you to have sweet dreams?? what kind of friend does that? everytime he was around you, you felt a weird tension.

one day, you and a small group of your coworkers planned to hang out together, yeonjun included. he came a little later than everyone else because he was stuck in traffic, but the moment he walked in, you felt awkward. not because of him but because you wanted to make sure he didn’t feel the same tension you did.

the whole time you were hanging out, it felt like he was always lingering around you. either you’re walking next to each other or hes simply just standing by you. maybe it was just you, but whenever you’d walk next to each other, your hands kept brushing against each other.

you kept avoiding him, but somehow he appeared anyway. after a while, everyone wanted to get drinks, so you walked to your cars. you needed to fill up your gas, so you said you’d meet everyone there. in your head it felt smart since that way you could sit somewhere away from him.

after filling the gas in your car, you drove up to the drink shop and saw that there was one seat open next to your friend. smiling, you sat there and felt a sense of relief since there was a person between you and yeonjun.

unfortunately things will never go your way because 10 minutes later, one of your friend’s boyfriend came in and since yeonjun was sitting next to her, he got up to give the seat up for her boyfriend and instead pulled up a chair next to you.

you avoided eye contact and focused on talking to everyone else because you couldn’t stand looking at him in case your face heated up.

he was always so close to you. always touching shoulders, touching arms, barely any space between you.

you always wondered if it meant anything to him. did his heart race like yours did?

—

2 months into your crazy infatuation of yeonjun, he was the same as always. touchy, flirty and knowing exactly how to make you feel flustered. even if he didn’t actually know that he was doing it. that is, until your birthday.

he had decided on his college of choice for the upcoming school year and got posted on the school’s introduction instagram page, so of course you and your other friends reposted it on your stories.

you spent the day with some of your friends who came back home for break and the night with your family. after a night full of celebration of you, you went to bed with a full heart and checked your messages. there you saw yeonjun talking about a girl that slid up on his friend’s story asking about him and calling him cute and how he’s been texting her all day.

you felt sick to your stomach. of course he didn’t feel the same way you did. of course he didn’t. but why was he acting the way he was? why did he do that with you?

you had planned to hang out with yeonjun and your other friends the weekend of your birthday and now you didn’t really want to see him at all, but you couldn’t cancel now so you thought you might as well make the most of it.

—

the day started out nice, the six of you met up at the mall you worked at and made your way to the friend group’s designated driver’s car.

you made a mental note not to sit next to yeonjun, so as he got in first, you made sure to get in last. you wanted today to be fun.

as the day went on, you noticed yeonjun was on his phone a lot and everytime you glanced at what he could be doing, it was always instagram dms. figures.

you weren’t disappointed about him texting the girl anymore, it was the fact that he was on his phone so much when you all took the time to plan a group hangout and spend time together. and of course it hurt that he was also on his phone because he was talking to someone else. the worst part was that everyone else in the car noticed it too. they also noticed how much it hurt you, no matter how hard you tried to hide it. but it seemed like yeonjun was the only one that didn’t seem to notice it.

you realized after a while that there was no point in sulking the whole day so you decided to just ignore him completely. wherever he went, you went somewhere else. when you all went to eat, you sat at a table of six with three seats on each side. he put his stuff down on the left side and went to the restroom, so you sat on the right side.

but when he came back, he moved his stuff to the seat next to yours and gave you a reassuring look. why was he doing that?

the entire time you ate, you didn’t really talk to him and after a while you could tell that he realized what you were doing.. which made you feel bad because he became quiet.

since you were out for your birthday you wanted to take polaroids with everyone individually. you knew that it would have been strange for you to get a picture with everyone but yeonjun and you didn’t want to ruin the air for anyone, so you decided to push your feelings down and ignore it for the rest of the day.

as you posed for the picture with him, you both leaned into each other and put up two thumbs up. an awkward pose the two of you always did. you smiled at him to pretend like you were okay and he smiled back.

when you all went back to the car, you had one person between the two of you. after a couple minutes of the ride you got a call from your mom asking when you’d be home and got a little panicked since you didn’t want to get in trouble. throughout the ride, you didn’t talk much, not only because you were nervous about getting in trouble with your parents, but also the whole situation with yeonjun.

he noticed your silence and as you were looking out the window, you felt a hand on your back. he was trying to reassure you that it’d be okay. that gesture in itself make you want to cry.

why did he keep caring about you like that? were you just overreacting?

—

the day after you all hung out for your birthday was his last shift at the shop you worked at. you opened the store and he came in an hour after. you couldn’t just ignore him, so you tried your best to act normal.

the shift was pretty quiet since you didn’t really know what to say but you chose to push your feelings down again because it wouldn’t be his last day ever again.

at the end of the shift, he was cleaning up in the back when you went to go put something away. as you walked away, he called you back.

“wait come back here” he pulled at your sleeve.

you stood in front of him, confused.

he took two steps forward and gave you a hug. “thank you”

you pulled away and looked at him with a sad look on your face. “for what?”

“i dont know, you’re a really good friend. you know that?”

you smiled, “of course i know that” and as you turned away, your smile faded.

—

you realized that you had to get over yeonjun, but it was harder than you thought.

when you first started liking him, the two of you had made plans to get your ears pierced together for his birthday. though you thought the plan would fall through, it didn’t, and suddenly there you were in his car on the way get food before the appointment.

you bought him two gifts for his birthday: matching bracelets that he said he wanted, and keychains with his favorite artists albums on them.

before eating, you gave them to him and he started unwrapping them in the car. he opened the bracelets and immediately said,

“i knew you’d get these.”

“literally how”

“because when i mentioned it the other day you told me not to buy them”

you laughed as he opened the keychains.

he gasped when he saw them, “THIS IS SO COOL,, wait is this why you asked everyone for their favorite albums?”

“yes and i got lucky since you were the only one that replied”

he started putting them on his keys and looked over at you.

“you know when i’m in college and i’m walking around campus, i could probably pick up girls with these”

you rolled your eyes, “i’ll take them back right now”

—

the same week you had gotten your ears pierced, you also got a new job! which happened to be the same place yeonjun was again…

but it wasn’t him that got the job for you, it was your other old coworker since she knew you were looking to leave your old job.

before you were scheduled, your new manager was debating whether to put you earlier or later in the month, but yeonjun made sure they made it earlier so that you could work with him on your first shift.

usually something like that would have made your head spin, but you were finally getting the hang of your insane crush on the boy, so you brushed it off.

your first day also happened to be his last before he left for college, and although you still hadn’t gotten over him, you knew that once yeonjun left for college, things would be really different. you just hoped you’d still talk to each other.

so when you were parting ways, he gave you a long hug. one of those hugs where you can feel the love from the other person.

you pulled away first and put out your pinky.

“don’t be a stranger, yeonjun”

he interlocked his pinky with yours.

“never in a million years”

—

about a month after yeonjun left for college, he texted the group chat with just a picture of him and a girl holding hands.

that’s when you remembered him telling you about a girl he met at his college’s orientation when you had went to get your ears pierced together.

instead of feeling sad, you really just felt like it was time to get over him.

so with time, you did. he was really happy with her and that was all that mattered to you.

your friend’s happiness.

—

epilogue

y/n really did get over yeonjun. they didn’t feel sick when they saw him. they could talk to him and not feel tension, and with time they even talked to each other about the people they both liked together.

but deep down, a part of y/n really felt like maybe they were in love with him.

maybe yeonjun was their first love.

and do people ever really get over their first love?

©eternallyhyucks

taglist!

@izchone , @baekswoons , @jiwon-44 , @junityy , @pr0dbeomgyu , @neos127 , @fiantomartell , @wccycc , @koishua , @changminurheart , @rainbowglitteramythyst , @baekhyunstruly , @soobin-chois , @yjwfav , @fairybinie , @sleepingisweak

!! unable to tag bolded

—send an ask if you would like to be a part of my taglist!!

#unfortunately this is a hashtag true story #i hope this made sense😭😭#yeonjun #choi yeonjun #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun angst #yeonjun fluff #txt #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt angst #txt fluff #eternallyhyucks

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candinipumpkin · 3 days ago

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So technically I saw this drawing in a dream the same night that I saw this dude. They weren’t connected though, it was two different dreams. Woke up thinking that I needed to draw this Kirby for real lol. Now that I’m thinking about it, I’ve rarely drawn Kirby fan art even though I’ve played so many games!

(more thoughts under read more)

So I’ve been thinking that I should draw more splotch style art, but digital instead of traditional. I DO have 3 other digital splotches from a little while back somewhere on my blog… A redo of my old Munna splotch and two Hollow Knight fan arts.

The issue with those is that I drew them in Photoshop so I needed to figure out a new way to do splotches in Procreate. I was fiddling with custom made brushes for like a week before I got to something that looks vaguely like my old splotches that I did in marker and pen. Luckily for me Procreate already has a ‘Marker’ brush so that saved me some time on the outlining lol. Still. Just getting 2 custom ‘splotch’ brushes took longer than I thought it would.

Being able to create these digitally now is gonna save me money on markers. That and I won’t have to sit and smell sharpie scent lol.

#Kirby #kirby fanart #sleep kirby #digital art #digital drawing #fanart #art

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 2 years ago

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Fate is Definitely Drunk [2]

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (it’s a female reader, most of mine will be unless it is requested as something else)

Warning: pining, cursing (of course), self-doubt/anxiety

Word Count: 1,788

Summary: Everyone has the words their soulmate will first say to them written on their skin somewhere. You have the most average words in the known universe so you assume you’ll have a soulmate that matches that. Fate ain’t happy you underestimated her.

‘I’ve been searching for—’ No. ‘Captain, I am—’ Nope. ‘Now that is America’s ass—’ Hell no. ‘Mr. Rogers—’ Definitely not. This wasn’t a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

You were beginning to realize why these soul marks were kind of a ‘spur of the moment’ thing that fate sprung on humanity. Planning them absolutely sucked. You were sitting at your desk staring at a notepad with literally 25 different phrases all crossed out with a sharpie. This was hell. You had missed your cue to speak, like an idiot, and now the universe was punishing you.

Captain America was your soulmate. The Captain America. The Star-Spangled Man with a Plan. The guy you had written an essay about in high school. An essay you only got a C on, mind you. There was a very strong part of you that was convinced that you had hallucinated the entire thing. A hallucination made a lot more sense than reality that was for sure.

You turned to your desk partner who sat beside you playing on their phone, “Hey, Alex.” They held one finger up for a second before letting their brown eyes drift up to meet yours with a neutral look. You continued, “If you could choose what your first words are to your soulmate, what would you say?”

Alex paused, thinking, then nodded, “Please fuck me.”

“Not…” You scrunched your nose, “Not exactly what I was looking for, but thank you.”

“It’s not like you get to choose anyways.” Alex shrugged.

The decision was made and you were talking before you even realized what was happening, “Alex, I need to tell you something.” They looked at you again, but this time with confusion. It had been two weeks since you ran into your soulmate, two weeks at this job, and Alex had easily become your closest friend here. Plus, your best friend back home hadn’t been very helpful with this. They mostly just screamed. “I met my soulmate.”

“You met your soulmate?”

“Yes.” You nodded. “They said their words, but then I didn’t say anything and they walked away and now… I don’t know what to do.”

Alex set their phone down, “Well, first thing first, you gotta find out who they are and track them down again.”

“Easy enough.” You tapped your fingers against your chin, “It’s, uh, Captain America.”

Alex blinked once, twice, three times and then tilted their head, “Captain America? As in the hero? As in Steve fucking Rogers?”

“That’s the one.”

The two of you stared at one another for a minute before Alex shrugged, “Yeah, you should definitely say, ‘Please fuck me’.”

You pointed at them, “Not gonna say that. Nope.”

“I don’t know what to tell you then.” Alex replied and picked their phone back up again. That had been about as helpful as the phone call you made to your friend back home. You moaned in defeat and slapped the notebook to your face. This was literally impossible. Only you would be in the situation where you knew who your soulmate is, they were an amazing human being, but you were too dumb to reply to them.

Someone came to the front desk and Alex tossed their phone aside to help them. You sunk in your seat and let your mind drift off. Did you even want to see him again? Of course, you did. He was Steve Rogers. Knowing him as America’s hero made you crush on him, and you were sure that once you personally got to know him you’d be a goner. Steve was an all-star, a top tier level soulmate, and you were…what? An intern making minimum wage who only just now got health insurance? You lived in a shoebox apartment that smelled of mold and smoke. You didn’t even own a bed yet. You were literally sleeping on an air mattress. An air mattress.

When Steve Rogers laid down to go to bed at night there was no way in hell the soulmate he imagined meeting one day was you. He was a hero, a legend, and you were literally the definition of average. If your life was a movie, you weren’t sure if you could even name yourself as the main character. You felt like a background character of your own life.

You opened your desk drawer and tossed the notepad into it.

Maybe not being able to think of anything to say was a sign.

Steve stood in line at the Stark Industries cafeteria feeling a little bit like an idiot. If Tony knew that he was down here buying food instead of using the state-of-the-art kitchen built upstairs for the Avengers specifically? God, he’d never hear the end of it. Especially if the genius found out that the only reason Steve was down here buying a water bottle and apple was because he was trying to see a girl.

It wasn’t just any girl though. It was probably the most beautiful dame he’s seen in his entire life, but Tony and the others would tease him all the same. He couldn’t explain it. Steve literally could not sit down and list reasons why this absolute stranger was stuck on his mind, but the feelings were there all the same.

The first time Steve saw her had been a month ago down in the lobby. He had been in a rush to leave the tower so he could meet Clint at some sketchy food stall that the archer claimed was worth weathering a hurricane sized storm for (it hadn’t been), and he just so happened to stop beside her while fighting his umbrella.

In fact, he hadn’t even noticed her standing there until he heard the soft intake of a gasp. Steve wasn’t sure if she knew she had reacted that way, but when he turned to meet her gaze he didn’t feel like Captain America suddenly. Instead, he felt like that scrawny, punk kid from Brooklyn that used to hide behind Bucky anytime a pretty dame started to talk.

The artist in him wanted to describe her as glowing. Something about her, the look in her surprised eyes, just made him feel like he was basking in warmth. Steve’s brain screamed at him to say something, literally anything, in hopes to make her acquaintance. When he opened his mouth though, all that had fallen out was a quip about the weather. Her face features had frozen in shock, and Steve took that as his cue to flee.

Steve hadn’t shared this interaction with anyone upstairs though because, again, he wasn’t in the mood to be mocked for the remainder of this century.

His thoughts were interrupted when he caught sight of the woman again. She was across the room walking in with a group of other SI interns. Steve could tell that’s what they were by the badges they wore around their necks. One of the interns said something and the woman he couldn’t stop thinking about laughed. A bright, grin filling her face.

Steve felt like a weirdo staring at her from across the room. That was actually another reason why he hadn’t told anyone about her because he knew his tactic of watching her from a distance and hoping she noticed him was creepy as hell. Bucky definitely would’ve beat his ass for it. For a quick second, he let his chest ache at the thought of his friend. Bucky would know just what to say in this situation. What he wouldn’t give to have his friend behind his shoulder coaching him on talking to a dame again. Maybe he should’ve paid more attention to those tips in the past.

One tip he did remember definitely applied here. Bucky would tell him to stop walking through the cafeteria everyday hoping she’d notice and speak to him, and instead make a damn move himself. He could do that. He could definitely do that. Steve had fought aliens from space a year ago. Talking to a girl couldn’t be harder than that.

And yet…

A thousand times he had worked up the courage to say something only to bail out at the last moment. It wasn’t just the fear of making himself look like an idiot either. He was Captain America. The quote, unquote Star-Spangled man with a plan. Anyone he brought into his life would be in danger, and what kind of stable minded person would want the baggage that came with him? Steve was a man, stuck out of his time, who worked non-stop and still had nightmares every other night of dropping his best friend out of a train. To say he was a mess was just a polite understatement.

It was one of the many reasons why he had decided any sort of courting should be behind him. He left those hopes and dreams in the 40’s along with his soulmate. Like nearly everyone else on the planet, Steve had words etched on his skin and one of his worst regrets was that his mission to save the world had left his soulmate alone. Maybe it was a selfish thought, but he was kind of glad he never met them back then. That alone made this so much easier to swallow.

“Captain?” Steve glanced over his shoulder to see an unfamiliar face looking up at him with a hopeful smile. The middle-aged woman held out her phone, “Can I, maybe, get a picture with you? My son is such a fan.”

Steve nodded once, “Of course.”

His fame was still something he’d never get used to, it was probably the worst part of his job, but Steve couldn’t find it in his heart to ever say no. He bent down a little to get into the frame as the much shorter woman, and after she snapped the picture, she thanked him again earnestly. Steve gave her a small wave and hurried away from the spot before others came to ask the same thing.

He glanced across the room, hoping to see the stranger one more time, and when his eyes found her, he realized she was already looking at him.

There was an unreadable look in her eyes, and Steve was stuck. After a moment, her lips curled up into a soft smile and it was pathetic how his heart seemed to stutter in his chest at the small action from someone he technically didn’t even know. It settled the mental argument he had been warring over though. Steve took in a steadying breath and took a step in her direction, but that was the exact moment the entire room shook as the back wall exploded out in a debris, fire, and dust.

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#steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #marvel #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you #soulmate au

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charmikarma · 10 months ago

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good lird. what have i done.

hey. i wrote this in response to yesterday's upd8. it's a drabble about candy!jade stuffing dave's corpse. a little more than 1k words. it's kinda graphic. there's implied cannibalism. it's also not beta read.

read at your own risk. peace

You summon the corpse from your sylladex and lay it out across your dining room table. The shades are gone – why, you can't be sure – but the eyelids are shut, so you can't see the eyes anyway. No matter. Dave was always cagey about his eyes; even in death, you're willing to respect that.

You head to the basement and look through the dusty old boxes. It's been decades since you did anything like this, but you know your supplies are still here somewhere. You find rifles, plushies, old gadgets – all kinds of junk you don't want to let go of, but no longer have any use for. Finally, the second-to-last box contains what you're looking for. Scalpels, needles, wood wool – all that and more. Tools and materials any amateur taxidermist should have on hand.

Below that box is one labeled simply dave in Dave's handwriting. You don't remember this being here.

You open it; it's not like he has any use for whatever's inside anymore.

Inside are a number of things you remember from his room. Records, photographs, fossils. There's even what appears to be a human fetus in a jar, which you would probably find more alarming if you weren't drowning in preserved human remains from a young age.

Rolling around the bottom of the box is a number of marbles, which gives you a brilliant idea. You fish out two of the largest ones you can find – one a red cat's eye, and the other a translucent blue-gray. If there is any symbolism to be seen in these colors, you don't notice it. You've neglected to notice symbols like these for decades.

You add the two marbles to the box with your tools. You return to the dining room and get to work.

You strip the body of its clothes. You are calm as you cut into the skin. The art of taxidermy takes a lot of care, after all, and while you are inexperienced, the training your grandpa gave you sticks in your memory like gum. You'll never forget how to do this for the rest of your eternal life. The feeling of the scalpel dividing flesh, the sound of skin peeling away from muscle, the smell of blood and something else which you have always assumed was death – it is all burned into your memory, and has been since the last time you did this. The time you stuffed your own grandpa. It was what he wanted for himself.

What you're doing right now is not what Dave would want for himself. You know that. But you also know better than your younger self – what Dave would want does not matter anymore. He is gone. But you're still here. So of course the question falls to you – what do you want to do with your husband's lifeless body?

With a squelch and a lot of arm strength, you pry the humerus free from the bicep. It's a shame Dave has no use for the muscle anymore. He always did have attractive arms. Though you could say the same for the rest of his body, too. You'll be sure to keep your rendition as faithful to the original as you can.

You set aside the bone on the kitchen counter. You wipe off the blood and write "LH" on it in black sharpie, so that you don't get it mixed up with the right humerus later. They will be helpful for posing the body when you stuff it.

You return to the carcass. Over the course of the next few hours, you strip skin from muscle, and muscle from bone. You lay each bone with the first humerus and each stretch of skin on the floor. You are careful to keep every piece organized. You are not careful to keep the house clean. Discarded flesh litters the floor. There is blood everywhere – on the table, on your hands, on your clothes. Your hair is sticky with it. The scent of it stings your nose.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, it registers that you are mutilating your dear husband without his permission. That it is Dave's blood on your hands. Somewhere deep below your diaphragm you are unsettled. But your body carries on; you're pressed for time. There's a war out there, and this is your only chance to preserve the love of your life.

You begin to reconstruct the body, and it stops feeling so impersonal. Tears blur your vision as you sew Dave's flesh back together. Why did he decide to leave? Of course you'd always feared the worst – that he never truly loved you. Why would he? But he stayed anyway, for sixteen long years. Sixteen happy years. Maybe he never loved you, but at least he would stay with you.

No longer.

Your hand begins to shake, and you nearly tear through his skin with your needle. You begin to mutter to yourself.

JADE: shh shhh its ok dave im sorry JADE: ill be more careful i promise! i wont hurt you JADE: christ jade get it together!!!

You steel yourself and fill his skull with wool. You stretch his scalp over the backside, and his face over the front. You sew the two pieces together just in front of his hairline, whispering sweet nothings to him all the way.

JADE: just a bit longer ok? JADE: youll be all nice and pretty again dont worry :)

When his head is finished, you pop the two marbles into his eye sockets.

JADE: there now you can see!!! JADE: do you like your new eyes? hehe i thought you would JADE: theyre from your own collection after all!!

You remember the hands being the most difficult part, so you've saved them for last. There is something unexpectedly intimate about reconstructing a hand you've held so many times you've memorized it. It may not be warm the way it used to be, and those stitches were never there before, but it's still Dave's hand. You have half a mind to press it to your cheek, to kiss the palm like you always used to, but you aren't that far gone. You do, however, thread your fingers between his after you finish your work. You hold his hand like that for a while.

JADE: i miss you already JADE: ......... JADE: well i guess youre not really gone JADE: youre still here, just JADE: quieter

You look around the room. Unsurprisingly, it's a mess. The blood is probably never coming out of the hardwood floor. And, of course, there's flesh everywhere. Organs, too. It's a shame, really, how much of the body is wasted in the process.

Your eyes fall to Dave's still heart. It's smaller than you expected; you were so little when you handled your grandpa's, so you guess you remembered it being bigger.

Your hand slips out of Daves as you fall to the floor. You stare at his heart, thinking. Not thinking about what to do – no, you're thinking about whether to do it. To follow the urge bubbling up from deep below your consciousness. If it were anyone else, you wouldn't hesitate to discard the thought. But it's Dave. You'll never meet anyone like him again. You don't want any part of him to go to waste.

You shouldn't. You know you shouldn't.

You reach for his heart.

#homestuck #homestuck: beyond canon #homestuck fic #jade harley #davejade #mine #charmi writes #charmi fics #jadepost #i'm sorry. i'm really sorry.#the inspiration hit at 4am last night and now i must reap the consequences.

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salamansir · 1 year ago

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Sun and Moon as "Sundrop" and "Moondrop"

Makes me think that it's a silly, sickly sweet petname. What better to call your loved ones than a candy based off of them?

(Sun centric, can be read as platonic or romantic, he/they pronouns for the DCA, gn Y/n, Y/n works in the Pizzaplex, it's cleaning day baby >:])

"Sun?" No response.

"Sunny?" You ask curiously. Still nothing.

"Sunflower, where are you?" You shout out into the daycare. A soft clicking noise can be heard from the balcony.

"Sunny I can hear you up there!" You shout at him with a smile

He giggles and then flops his front half over the edge with his rays making lazy circles around his head, staring at you.

"Yes lovebug???" He seems excited about something.

"Can you come here please? I haven't seen you all day!"

You really haven't. Being an employee at the Pizzaplex isn't always easy. Maintenence, lights, cleaning, customer service, handsy messy kids, and a seemingly never ending list of tasks. You travel across the whole plex all day, and it's tiring. But it's nice to be able to come to the daycare at the end of the day for your last tasks.

Sure, the Glamrocks are good company, but Sun and Moon are your best friends! Even if they hide from you when it's time for a cleaning.

"Sun, come down here, it's your turn!"

He stares at you for a second before he scoots his prone form off the balcony and ragdolling into the ball pit below him.

"Sun?!?!"

No response

"Come on!! I'm not coming in there to get you again." Yes you were.

"UGH" You sigh out sarcastically and stare for a few minutes to see if he'll give up on the bit

... he's not

You begrudgingly cross the bridge into the vast sea of plastic before you and walk over to where you saw Sun fall.

With a smile on your face you start kicking around with your legs to feel for them. It takes a minute and moving a few feet in either direction, but you feel him grab your calf and pull it forward.

You stumble and fall onto your back in the pit. There are lanky limbs on you in an instant.

Caged in by the Daycare Attendant you can't do much but sit there with your head and shoulders above the surface. Sun is giggling and lifts his head up to look at you, rays retracting and coming back out in a show of excitement.

"Hi~", they purr at you and nuzzle into your shoulder.

"Hello sundrop~" you pat on his back lovingly. His rays start whirring around in circles.

He hugs you just a little harder and then loosens his tight grip in your body.

He looks at you with his milky white eyes expectantly.

"What?" You question him. He taps his cheek with a long finger and says,

"Here."

"Oh!" You realize and then give him a short kiss on the cheek. He brightens up and pushes his smile against your forehead in his form of a kiss with a loud, "MWAH!"

You stare at eachother before you say,

"Its cleaning day man, we've got to get this done, and then we can play."

They look at you and click their head to the side, once, twice, and then a full circle.

"Fine.." he says. You're able to hear the pout in his tone.

"Its not that bad, you just have some marker on you! This should be quick." You tell him.

"Can you use the really soft rag?" He asks.

"Hm?"

"The soft one! With the good smelling foam!" They say excitedly.

"Oh! Yeah! Let me get some some stuff out of the closet real quick." You tell them.

-----

The cleaning goes smoothly! Sun sits on a cleared off spot of the security desk and you put a sweet scented foam cleanser on the marker spots. Some are more stubborn to come off than others, and you discover that some of it is Sharpie. No matter, it comes off with a little elbow grease and some giggles from Sun complaining about tickles.

"Snrrk- Y/N!! HEHHEHE!!!!"

"What~" you tease and continue scrubbing, a little lighter this time, moving to the seam on his front that had green marker in it.

Putting a line of foam on the seam, you rub it in with a gloved hand.

Sun starts frantically tapping his hands on the desk and kicking his legs off to the side.

"PfffftttaahahaAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!"

Giggles and the light tinking sound of his bells fill the air while you use the corner of the rag to clean the gap.

When you're finally done, you have a dirty rag, some peeled stickers you discovered on the back of his rays, and... a squeaky clean Sun!

He picks you up and twirls around

"Oh THANK YOU friend! What would Moon and I do without you hm?"

"Probably be covered in glitter and marker" you laugh.

"Hm, I suppose. But I like being pretty! And the kids get really excited to color on me!" They say happily.

"Yeah I bet they are, but you know-"

You're cut off by your Faz-watch telling you that your work day is over, and to clock out and have a 'Faztastic day'.

"Oop, looks like our time is up Y/n! Moonie says not to stay up too late tonight!"

They give you one last hug before guiding you to the comically large doors and waving at you as you head out of the shutters.

You wave back at him and tell him that you'll be back tomorrow and you'll have more free time then.

Heading home, you find yourself in a great mood.

Today was a good day.

#long drabble #idk what possessed me to write this.#sun x reader #dca x reader #sun fnaf #moon fnaf #dca fnaf #salamander scribbles #im gonna use that as my general creation tag for now #pet names

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rip-quizilla · 2 years ago

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Your Leather, My Lace ~ Part 3: Black Lace On Sweat

*This fic was co-written by curlyfry23, whom you can find on AO3 here

Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Rockstar!fem!Reader

Summary: You and Eddie get a little "extracurricular" in the back of his van. Smut ahead, ye be warned.

Word Count: 6.2k

Tags for Entire Fic (from AO3): Enemies to Lovers, Rival Bands, Tension While Singing, Leather, 80's Rock References, Song Lyrics, Slow Burn, Sexual Tension, Thinly Veiled Hex Girls Inspiration, Eddie Munson Lives, 1991, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Mutual Masturbation, Hate to Love, Oral Sex, Consensual Sex, Smut, Eddie Munson Has No Sense of Personal Space, Cunnilingus, Nipple Licking, Catholic Guilt, brat!reader, Dom/sub Undertones, light degradation, Car Sex, The Lord of the Rings References

Part 1 | Part 2

The pounding of your heart was beginning to bleed into the second-hand thrum of the music inside, and it took you a second to register Eddie’s outstretched hand offering you a cigarette.

“Thanks.” Your lips chattered a little from the cold as you took the roll of paper, fingertips brushing his ever so slightly. Your free hand rubbed up and down your bare upper arm as you scurried over to his waiting lighter.

Eddie flicked his lighter until a little spark burst into flame. Cigarette placed between your lips, you bent forward until the edge glowed amber.

“You cold?” Eddie asked as you savored that first blissful drag before blowing smoke up into the air. You started to shake your head when a gust of wind picked up causing your arms to cling to your sides and rub the goosebumps away.

You heard a quiet snort from beside you, followed by a smug “Here” as Eddie removed his leather jacket, holding it out by the shoulders facing you in wait. You thought better than to protest as you started to slide one of your arms through a warm sleeve. Your gaze snagged on a name written in faded sharpie on the tag of the jacket- MUNSON.

“Does this poor Munson guy know you stole his threads?” you question as you adjusted the jacket to your frame. It was still warm from his body and smelled of cigarettes and men’s shampoo.

“That's a family heirloom, the Munson men have always worn it with pride, so show some respect.” Eddie squinted as he feigned offense. “It's older than we are.”

You raised your hands apologetically then kissed the lapel of the jacket for good measure hoping you didn’t hurt the jacket’s feelings. Eddie’s eyes didn’t leave you as you flicked your cigarette as you hummed, “Eddie Munson, the repeat” You winked bringing the cigarette back to your lips.

“I prefer Eddie Munson the Banished, it has a better ring to it” He swung around to face you, bringing his hands to gently grasp the lapels of the jacket. He looked down at his own ringed fingers wrapped around the worn leather, and straightened the jacket over your shoulders. You struggled to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat when you felt the fabric tighten around your shoulders and back, pulling you closer to him.

His breath was hot on your skin in contrast to the crisp night air, and you found yourself at a loss for what to do with your hands- he was so close, should you touch him? You stuck your hands in the pockets of his jacket before quickly changing your mind and folding them in front of you like you were in church. Your reflexes seemed hell-bent on embarrassing you today- and for some reason, when he was this close to you and looking at you the way he was looking at you, touching him seemed like the scariest thing in the world.

Eddie looked down at your indecisive hands and stifled a chuckle. “Antsy?” he asked. His face loomed the slightest bit closer, and you noticed that his eyes were so much more than just ‘brown’- in this amber light, they practically glowed. Eddie’s eyes were molten chocolate, swirling and shining like the smoke that curled into the night air.

You shook your head gently, smiling meekly. “Maybe a little…” you conceded, “I’m just not used to… I don’t know… breaking the rules, I guess?” Heart racing, you hung your head forward to rest against his chest. You stared absently at the toes of your boots and his beaten red Converse against the gum-ridden sidewalk. “-Especially not the rules I make for myself.”

Eddie’s eyes had widened slightly when your head leaned against him, but it only took a moment for one of his hands to lift from the jacket and rest on the top of your head. “Well, you know…” He crooned, his free hand coming to rest under your chin, bringing your eyes back up to meet his. “...There are quite a few people- myself included- who think rules exist to be broken.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his brashness but before you could formulate a response, his mouth was on yours. Cradled between his hand on the back of your head and his touch sliding from your chin to cup your jawline, you fell into the warmth of his lips as they melted the night’s chill. Your mind ran a race against your heart as you closed the space between the two of you, and you raised onto your toes drinking him in. He nipped your bottom lip playfully, stroking a strong thumb across the soft skin of your jaw to coax your head back further. Eddie dotted your jawline with kisses, working his way down your neck and forcing your back to arch backward, baring your neck for him until you were pressed fully against the door of his van.

A soft moan escaped your mouth when Eddie took a pinch of your skin between his teeth, biting down and sucking just hard enough to purple it later. You assumed that Eddie must have enjoyed the way you’d sounded, because when he heard that small, high-pitched whimper fly through your lips his grip on you tightened- both around your neck and behind your head. His head lifted until his mouth brushed lightly against your ear, bringing goosebumps to the surface of your skin under his warm breath.

The sound of his car door opening jolted you from your lust-induced haze. You hadn’t even noticed one of his hands leaving your skin to grasp the handle of the back door of his van, which was now sliding open behind you.

Looking quizzically at Eddie, you asked, “What are you doing?” Eddie took a half-step back, gesturing to his soaked t-shirt and looking at you like the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

“That’s the whole reason I’m out here, remember?” Leaning forward into his van, Eddie began to rummage through the various items that were lying loose across the floor of the van. He made a little noise of triumph when he found what he was looking for. “Here we go-” reappearing with a dry t-shirt in hand, he emerged with a smug grin on his face. “You gonna help me put it on?”

You stared at him, mouth agape. “You are a grown-ass man, Eddie Munson.” you said, a wry smile sneaking into your words. “Do you really need help getting dressed? Or did you fail that class, too?”

Eddie donned a thinker’s pose, pretending to contemplate your question. “Need? No. Though, you were the whole reason I needed a change of clothes in the first place, so a little help is only fair.”

“Didn’t I buy you a drink?”

Eddie hopped into his van, clutching the clean t-shirt as he put up his hands in a surrender. “Fine, fine, I’ll get dressed in here all alone…” he looked at you, mischief in his eyes as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “You’ll just miss out on seeing the palest skin east of the Mississippi.”

You laughed, nodding in agreement. “Y’know, I thought you looked familiar. Did I see you in a freak show once? ‘Palest man on earth’?”

His eyes laughed in the dim lamplight, adding, “Yeah, that’s me! The paleness got dull for tourists though, so I had to add some scandalous ink to the mix.” He used his free hand to tug the collar of his wet shirt down just far enough for you to see the top of what looked like a… head? Maybe a skull? Eddie tugged his shirt back up too fast for you to get a good enough look at his ink, and now he had piqued your curiosity.

You sighed, rolling your eyes to play up your annoyance just a bit as you climbed into his van. Eddie couldn’t seem to care less, smiling like a kid in a candy store as you plopped into a sitting position on the floor of his van. “Ah, the power of the tatties” he gloated, his words muffled by the shirt he was already ripping off of his torso. He discarded the dampened shirt to the side before crawling through the cramped space to where you sat waiting.

Eddie reached past you to close the door, shutting out the cold night air and trapping the two of you inside with your collective body heat. Your instincts told you that there was about to be a whole lot more of that in this beat up old van, and it made your nerves buzz with anticipation.

After a moment of avoiding his eyes, you finally looked up- his gaze had been waiting for you, snagging your eye contact immediately. He held it hostage, entrancing you in those enormous, intoxicating eyes. You couldn’t look away. You found yourself studying his face- every burgeoning wrinkle, every eyelash, every near-imperceptible twitch of his brow made you want to take a picture of him, if only to memorize this moment in Eddie’s nicotine-and-weed-scented van.

You noticed the corner of his mouth tugging upwards, and suddenly you were acutely aware of how quickly your skin was heating up. Averting your eyes, you grabbed the dry t-shirt off the floor of the van and shoved it in his direction. “Here.” you said, secretly grateful for the blood in your cheeks keeping you warm in the cool Indiana chill.

You could hear the smirk in Eddie’s voice as he took the shirt from your hand. “What, you don’t want to watch?” So, taking a deep breath and silencing that voice in your head saying Bad idea! Turn back now!, you slowly turned your head towards him. And boy, were you glad you did.

Eddie Munson was the wet dream of your teenage metalhead years. Your highschool experience at that all-girls Catholic school had taught you one undeniable thing about yourself: you were entirely too attracted to boys who (according to the nuns at your school) looked like they had paved the pathway to Hell. With no “normal” teenage boys around to play the field and figure out your taste in men (there were the boys at your brother school, but they were all too boring for you), you had turned to music in search of love. This had led to an obsession with leather, black nail polish, eyeliner, and hair. Rockstar hair. Eddie’s hair. And looking at this lean, inked-out adonis of a man with that big, curly mane of rockstar hair was beginning to do things to you that you knew would only lead to bad decisions.

Yep. Your soul would require confession after tonight. But that was a problem for future you.

You took in a very deep breath, imagining any inhibitions about what you were about to do blowing through your lips as you exhaled. You crawled across the floor of Eddie’s van, purposefully keeping your eyes on his tattoos as you approached him. When you were close enough to touch, you sat on your knees and gently ran your fingers over a tattooed spider on his chest.

“Tell me about them,” you said, your voice louder than a whisper but still quiet enough that you could practically hear each other’s heartbeats. Eddie placed a hand on yours, pressing your skin to the spider below his clavicle.

“How about you guess my reasons for each one,” he said, matching your volume, “and I’ll tell you how close you are to the truth.”

You smiled and studied the cartoonishly large black widow that he’d given permanent residence on his skin. “Hmmmm…. You got this one because…” you made a show of musing over the thought. “... you’re actually a huge comic book nerd and you’re obsessed with Spider-Man.”

You felt a soft chuckle reverberate throughout his chest. “No dice on that one, sweetheart.” Eddie said, his voice soft in the still silence of the van. His voice seemed to drop several octaves whenever he spoke in quieter tones; you liked the way it sounded almost like purring, the way it tore up a little bit on its way out of his throat. “However, I am a huge comic book nerd. Not sure if I like the fact that you picked up on that so easily.”

You giggled, eyes flicking up to meet his for a moment. The way he was staring down at you made your toes curl. “So why’d you get it then?” you asked quietly. You began repositioning yourself to lay flat on the floor of the van, your head resting in Eddie’s lap. You were growing anxious at the idea that both of you were waiting to see if the other would make a move; you hated this game. With your head in his lap, the ball was in his court- if he wanted to kiss you, all he had to do was lean his head down.

Your move, Munson.

Eddie stared down at you, surprised but still grinning as you settled your head on his thigh. “I, uhh,” he cleared his throat. “I remember learning how black widows got their name when I was a kid- how the girl spiders eat the male spiders after mating- and I guess I just figured that’s one of the most metal things I had ever heard.”

You gave him a lopsided grin at that response. “Am I learning something about your taste in women, Munson?”

“What, that I fall head-over-heels for women who could kill me? That’s any man worth talking to, sweetheart, trust me.” You were both smiling now, unable to twist your features into anything but expressions that shone with utter contentment. You liked being near him, and you liked how comfortable he made you feel.

You gently took his forearm in your hands, letting your fingers drift over the gruesome depiction of a demon being controlled like a puppet by a clawed hand above it. You stared at it for a long while before looking up at him questioningly.

“Is this one a Metallica reference?” you asked, which must have caught Eddie off-guard because his eyebrows shot up above his widening eyes.

“Fuck, uh, yeah it is.” he looked down at you incredulously. “You know which song?”

You smiled because you knew exactly which song.

“It’s Master of Puppets, isn’t it?”

Eddie nodded, stunned. “Wow, she knows her metal! I’m impressed.” He looked down at the tattoo on his arm with a nostalgic glint in his eye. “I doodled that in one of my school notebooks the year that album came out. I spent hours- god, I spent weeks- figuring out how to play that whole song. When I finally got it down, I rewarded myself with this baby.”

You shook your head lightly, laughing to yourself about how similar his story sounded to yours. “That song is what made me start playing guitar.”

Eddie’s eyes went back to you, shining with genuine interest. “Hell of a song to start with. How long did it take you to learn?”

You let out a rueful chuckle at the question. “Well, from the moment I first decided to learn it until the time I finally got through it without any mistakes… that was about six or seven months I think? I didn’t own a guitar, so I worked my ass off babysitting all summer until I was old enough to get a real job at a beauty store in town. Once I finally had enough saved, I went straight to the music store and got the cheapest guitar they had… mastered the song a month or so later.”

Your eyes had drifted back to his tattoo as you rattled off the story of how you had scrimped and saved for your first guitar, absentmindedly running your thumb over the faded ink shining through his pale skin in the dim light that streamed in through the windows of Eddie’s van. Silence had settled over the two of you when you’d stopped talking, and his lack of a response prompted you to look up at him when the quiet became too much.

He was looking at you that way again; studying you, almost as if you were a book written in a language he didn’t know. As if he could learn to understand you by sheer will if he stared hard enough. You wanted so badly to know what was happening in his head, but before you could even ask he was sliding his hand behind your head and lifting your lips to meet his.

His kiss was soft at first, so much gentler than the first one. Before, it was like he had been trying to break down your defenses and convince you to stay with him under the dim light of the street lamps. Now? He wasn’t trying to convince you of anything. The way his lips were moving against yours, lazily parting your mouth for his own- it had no ulterior motive. It just felt right for your skin to be touching his right now. The feeling was mutual.

You sat up on your knees, your mouth never leaving Eddie’s, and scooted forward until you were straddling his lap. His hands grabbed your thighs greedily, and you reveled in the way you could feel him growing hard beneath you. His fingers gripped your hips as he kissed you deeper, tongue caressing the inside of your mouth and sending shivers down your body and straight to your core.

After staring at his half-naked body for so long, you were eager to explore his skin with your hands. Eddie shivered as your cold fingers dragged ever so softly over his chest, working their way over his shoulders and up his neck, into his hair. You tangled your fingers in his dark curls, tugging softly at the base of his skull, eliciting a soft moan from Eddie’s lips that was like music to your ears. You made a mental note- Eddie Munson likes his hair pulled.

Smiling mischievously into the kiss, you worked your fingers further up into his tresses, tugging harder this time so that his head was wrenched further back. It ripped his mouth from yours, and this time he moaned even louder. Deeper. Eyes closed, he ran the tip of his tongue over his lip, shaking his head softly. “You’re making it real hard to listen to my conscience, sweetheart.”

You chuckled, grinding your hips into his and undoubtedly causing him to grow painfully harder underneath his tight black jeans. “Fuck your conscience.” you teased.

That caused his eyes to pop open, and you gulped as you watched Eddie’s expression take on a darkness that ignited a fire in your belly. He stared you down for a moment wordlessly, then focused his attention on your chest as it heaved up and down in the dim light with every breath you took.

“Do you know how infuriating it is to see your tits looking this good and not get rock hard on the spot? In the middle of that fucking club?” Eddie’s voice was barely above a whisper, almost as if he were talking to himself. He cupped your breasts over your shirt, pushing the swelled mounds of flesh up and into each other and admiring the way the shadows played on them at every angle.

You watched as his fingers danced on the lace trim of your tank top, growing hotter by the moment as he teased the exposed skin of your chest. When he finally slipped a finger beneath the soft fabric, you nearly moaned from the anticipation. Eddie took his sweet time, slowly dragging your neckline lower and lower- giving you every opportunity to stop him if you’d wanted to (you were quite sure that if he did stop, you might die on the spot.) before he finally exposed the thin lace of your bra.

You felt incredibly exposed under his gaze- specifically, the way he was looking at you. It was… hungry? Desperate? You might even say predatory- it gave you chills in a very good way; Eddie seemed to like the way it made your nipples perk up under your bra.

He brushed his thumbs over the stiff peaks through the smooth fabric, enjoying the way they felt under the pads of his fingers as he continued to fondle your breasts to his heart’s content. “Now a man with a conscience would ask politely before he rips off your clothes and has his way with you.” Eddie mused, entranced by every little sound you made under the heat of his hands. Your breathing hitched upon hearing his words, your eyelashes fluttered, heartbeat quickening. “-but I seem to remember you saying fuck your conscience, or something like that?”

Now he looked up at you, and good lord did those lust-blown eyes take the breath right out of your lungs. “So is that what you want, princess? For me to rip your clothes off and have my way with you? Or should I ask nicely first?” His condescending tone shot an unexpected jolt through your core; no man had ever been this candid with you when you were intimate- his words were so crass, you should have been offended- and yet, they just made you want to do whatever he asked of you.

Feverishly, you nodded your head in a frantic yes, eliciting a chuckle from Eddie accompanied by a big, lazy smile. “C’mon baby, which is it? Ask nicely, or get you out of these-” You didn’t let him finish. Already your hands had gripped the soft hem of your shirt and began pulling it off your torso. Eddie’s eyes were dark with lust, raking over you appreciatively.

The grin on his face was mischief incarnate. “Aaatta girl.” It didn’t even take two seconds for Eddie’s hands to pull the material of your bra down, freeing your breasts from their confines and exposing them to the cold night air. You could already see goosebumps popping up across your skin, bringing your nipples to an even stiffer peak than before.

Eddie gazed at your chest, softly shaking his head as he admired you on full display before him. You heard him utter a deep, wistful “Fuck.” and then he was on you, groping you and showering your chest with all the attention that he apparently had been wanting to give you since he first saw you in that blouse. He brought his mouth to the peak of your right breast and took the darker flesh between his lips. You gasped at the warm, wet feeling of his tongue as it swirled little circles around your pebbled nipple, flicking up and down in quick, unforgiving licks. Letting your head fall back, you sighed airily and allowed him to repeat his motions again to your left nipple, covering your spit-slicked right breast with the warmth of his hand as he groped and squeezed.

You sighed. You whimpered. You ached to feel his mouth on every strip of skin or else you thought you might go insane. You took matters into your own hands, reaching back to unclasp your bra and shrugging it off, leaving you in the same state of undress as him. Eddie let out an appreciative growl from deep within his chest, watching the warm lamplight bathe your body in a glow that rivaled every depiction of an angel he’d seen in his life. You looked ethereal.

“Like Galadriel…” Eddie mused, not realizing until it was too late that he had muttered it out loud.

“Wha..?” you sighed, too out of breath to complete the word.

“Sorry, uh, I’m talkin’ gibberish.” Eddie recovered, covering his tracks as he splayed his ringed fingers over your ribcage, further admiring your form as he laid you down on the floor of his van. “I think your body’s turning my brain to mush.”

You hummed, smiling as he proceeded to lick a broad stripe from your belly button to your sternum, but you couldn’t help but grow warmer after hearing what he’d said- like Galadriel. You’d read your fair share of Tolkein in high school thanks to a particularly cool English teacher who’d integrated The Fellowship of the Ring into the curriculum. Therefore, you remembered how she had been described- powerful, majestic, the fairest of all the elves. The comparison made you feel as though you might melt into the floor.

You placed a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, pushing him backward as you sat up to straddle him once again. He watched you, awestruck and curious to see what you planned on doing next. Now he was horizontal on the floor, propped up on his elbows as you placed your knees on either side of his torso. A Mona Lisa smile played on your lips, confident in your movements as you leaned downward until your lips were just barely brushing his ear. Then you whispered-

“‘All shall love me and despair.’”

Eddie almost came in his pants right fucking there.

Eyes wide, he cupped your face in both hands, drawing you back to look into his eyes. You wore a knowing smile on your lips and a mischievous glint in your eye as you gazed down at the man who was quickly coming to the realization that he had underestimated just how difficult it was going to be to not sleep with you after tonight.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie began, caution heavy in his voice, “not once in my twenty-six years did I ever think a girl as hot as you would quote Tolkein to me, much less do it topless.” You giggled, and Eddie couldn’t stop the genuine smile that bloomed across his face in response. Your laugh was so musical; he wanted to capture it, put it on a record, play it over and over again.

“I’m gonna need you to take those pants off and sit on my face, princess. Think you can do that for me?” His hands fell to your hips, caressing and squeezing like he fully intended to never let go.

A thrill rolled through you at the idea, and you eagerly nodded as you began to strip out of your tight pants. Once you had discarded your boots, the rest followed until you found yourself completely naked in the back of Eddie Munson’s van. You barely knew this man, yet you couldn’t think of a place that you would rather be right now.

You walked forward on your knees until your pussy sat suspended in the air, inches above Eddie’s face. The way he was looking at your glistening lips, you’d think he was staring at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. He grasped the apex of your thighs firmly, tugging you down to meet him; you lowered yourself slightly, still trying to keep your weight off of his face so as not to suffocate the man. You had only sat on a guy’s face once before, and it hadn’t lasted very long, so this was more or less uncharted territory for you.

Eddie’s eyes looked up at yours, arching an eyebrow in a silent question. “Baby I said sit on my face.” As if he could read your mind, he added, “You’re not gonna crush me, and even if you did, that would be the one way of assuring I die a happy man, so by all means, sweetheart, fucking suffocate me between these thighs-”

You did as you were told, silencing the end of his sentence into a desperate humming moan. You were rewarded immediately, throwing your head back and cursing loudly as Eddie’s lips closed around your clit and sucked. It was evident to you that this was something Eddie enjoyed, because he seemed to know exactly what he was doing every step of the way. His tongue painted your pussy like his greatest masterpiece, each lick just the right balance of intentional and instinctual. He alternated between long broad licks, short circles over and around your clit, thrusts of his tongue going in and out of you, humming in content desperation and sending vibrations through you that caused you to shiver and just about lose your mind.

You had long since closed your eyes; you wanted to enjoy this, to grind into his face and ride his tongue until you came undone. Leaning back, you sighed deeply, accidentally placing your hand a little too close to his throbbing erection that was creating quite the hump in his tight black jeans. The surprise and pleasure of feeling your hand brush his sensitive cock caused Eddie to jolt, instinctually thrusting into your hand. That gave you an idea.

Keeping your core on his lips, you reached backwards and began to unfasten his pants. It took some coordination on your part, but eventually you had shimmied his pants about halfway down his thighs. His erection stood alert, creating a very impressive tent out of his boxers. You palmed him cautiously through the fabric, grinding appreciatively into his face when you felt the low growling moan tumble out of his mouth and into your pussy. You returned your eyes to his between your legs, and your heart rate skyrocketed when you saw the way he was looking up at you.

Eddie’s eyes were black with lust, his eyebrows tugged low over them threateningly. That, coupled with his hands which gripped your thighs like he were daring you to even try prying your pussy away from his lips. He ate you out like a man starved, and when you reached back to free his cock from his boxers, he gripped you even tighter, sucking on your clit while simultaneously flicking it with his tongue.

You moaned loudly, holding his cock tight in your grasp as you began to stroke the shaft. He moaned with you, but his was more like a growl that shook you to your core. His eyes said it all when you locked gazes with him again- he intended to devour you, and he wasn’t going to let you leave his face until he was satisfied.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on why, but you didn’t want to give him that kind of control. Something about this man was bringing out a side of yourself that you weren’t used to; you felt submissive and defiant at the same time. You wanted to do what he said, but you also wanted to see what happened when you didn’t. It felt naughty; but you had a feeling he might be into that.

So, you looked down at him, rebellion hot on your gaze, and spit into your hand before reaching back and coating his dick with it, stroking him with more conviction than before.

Eddie’s moan was twice as vocal this time, and you could almost make out the word fuck mumbled against your core. You threw your head back, reveling in the way the sound of his moans sent exquisite vibrations straight through you. Your hand worked expertly, stroking his cock with just the right amount of pressure to elicit those delicious moans every few seconds.

The two of you continued that way for several minutes, your moans and sweat fogging up every window of the van. Grinding your hips into his face, Eddie became even more entranced by the way your body looked from his view between your thighs. The way you writhed with every flick of his tongue made him feel like a god, and the way his cock grew stiffer with every stroke of your hand made you feel like a goddess. You were both caught in a competition of sorts, wordlessly waiting to see who would give in to the other’s ministrations first.

It was a competition that revolved around power- who had more over the other, and who was more willing to sacrifice theirs for the sweet sensation of release.

You felt your climax sneaking up on you, his tongue suddenly feeling even more poignant in its movements than before. Determined not to give in first, you stroked Eddie faster, squeezing him softly along the shaft but applying more pressure near his head- it was an incredibly effective technique.

“Mmmph-f-fuck… holy shit…” Eddie muttered sloppily against your weeping pussy. He was coated with the taste of you, smelling the scent of your arousal all around him and getting closer by the second from it. He felt feral, rutting into your hand in pursuit of release. He wanted to cum while you writhed against his face, watching your gorgeous tits bouncing with every little movement you made. Just the thought of it alone got him closer than he cared to admit.

Settle down, Munson, he chided mentally, trying desperately to calm himself down. He had a job to do before he came, and it was sitting on his face.

Eddie’s tongue doubled its efforts, widening flat and lapping softly yet quickly at your lips. He licked from your entrance up to your clit, over and over again, periodically sucking on your throbbing clit in between licks. All the while, he kept his hands on your tits, squeezing and tweaking and playing with your breasts just enough to light about every nerve ending in your body on fire- Eddie intended to drive you into a frenzy, to know what you looked like when you tossed aside your inhibitions and rode him like a sex-crazed maniac. Now that was a sight he’d keep in his memory forever.

You moaned, trying desperately to curb your release but failing miserably. Once you understood that your orgasm was approaching in full force whether you wanted to cum first or not, you threw caution to the wind and widened your thighs even more, sinking further onto Eddie’s mouth.

He moaned in appreciation, looking up at you through dark, lust-blown eyes as you gazed down at him desperately. “I’m gonna cum,” you whined, quiet and needy as you moved your back and forth seeking even more friction. Eddie aided your efforts, gripping the flesh of your hips hard enough to bruise and forcing you to grind your pussy against his face even harder.

Finally, the friction, the sucking, the force of his tongue- it became too much. You tumbled over the edge, cumming hard on his mouth and squeezing his cock even harder as you fisted his cock even more frantically than before.

Eddie’s assault on your core never ceased, refusing to let up as you continued to grind on his face and stroke his cock through your orgasm. It didn’t take long for him to reach his release as well, moaning into you as hot, slippery cum began to leak out of his cock and onto your hand. He was in heaven, letting you stroke him through his release as he savored the taste of yours on his tongue. If he did indeed suffocate between your thighs tonight, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have a single regret in the world.

A few blissful seconds passed by then, the only sound in the van being the heaving of two lovers as they tried to catch their breath. Once you had finally rode out your orgasm, you carefully swung a leg over him so that you were sitting beside his head. Reaching over to grab the wet shirt that Eddie had discarded from earlier, you held it up in front of his face- which was still staring up at the ceiling of his van with an expression like he had just witnessed the second coming… no pun intended.

“You cool if I clean you up with this?” You asked quietly, voice high and breathy from your post-orgasm high.

He smiled, the picture of contentment, and nodded yes. You carefully wiped him and your hand clean, then began to search the van for your discarded clothes. You’d managed to put on your bra and panties before you felt Eddie’s hand on the curve of your waist.

“Lie down.” A simple, yet effective command.

He was smiling at you, his black jeans pulled back up and buttoned, but inked torso still exposed, glowing in the lamplight. You smiled, allowing a moment to enjoy his company a bit longer before you finished clothing yourself.

You lowered your body to lie with him on the carpeted floor of his van, lying on your side so that you could curve your body against him like a body pillow. His skin was warm, smooth to the touch and comforting in the way his arm came to drape over your shoulders. Your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces; there was something soothing about that.

You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, letting your eyelids flutter closed as you exhaled heavily. You felt heat bloom across your cheeks as his lips planted a soft peck on your forehead. Neither of you said a word; neither of you had to. You both seemed to appreciate this silent moment for what it was- contentment in the company of a kindred spirit. This fleeting moment wouldn’t last longer than tonight, but that was one of the beautiful things about it. Just tonight. No longer than it needed to be.

You could accept that. Why ask for too much of a good thing? After all, you had both agreed- no strings attached.

That was fine. You didn’t need the distraction anyways.

Part 4

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #rockstar eddie munson #stranger things fic #stranger things au #eddie munson lives #enemies to lovers

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asukiess · 1 year ago

Note

🧙🏼 trick🧹 or treat 🪣

wackus sent this to me before my porch light was even on. this is the kid who trick or treats at like 4pm adhbahdadb

okay hi!! wow I love your costume! it's a big broom right? yeah, I thought so. that's so creative.

(shakes bucket) hmmmm how about a Paris Special fic I was playing around with before it came out (so the plotline is different lol). The premise: ToxiGriffe are committed to destroying the world, but end up falling for their classmate and realize that maybe, just maybe, they want to save someone else in this universe now.

With the pen positioned in his fingers just so for the perfect thwap, he taps her tricep. He means to ask her immediately, “Drawn anything new lately?”, but she visibly winces, and the pencil clatters on to the desk.

“Sorry–did that hurt?” He rushes out, worried that he has accidentally actually wounded her.

Marinette turns her head, looking at him as if he’d just asked her a math question from the homework they’re both ignoring.

“What do you mean?” Looking down at her jacket’s sleeve, she gives a little gasp. “Oh, yeah, fell on my mannequin at home. I hit this little metal piece, the hem guide. Made a gnarly bruise.”

He can imagine it, right under the fabric: the fresh blues and purples of broken blood vessels. He’s had more than his fair share of jam-like smears dot his body over the last year. Sometimes a grenade hits an overhead beam and ricochets; sometimes he’s plain stupid and too focused on making Toxinelle laugh to notice that the roof was giving way under the flames below. It’s normal for him, but something in his gut kicks.

“You’re usually not that clumsy,” he says, readjusting himself on his seat to sit up.

She gives him a small smile with deadpan eyes before fixating her attention on the piece of charcoal in her fingers. “I’m just really close to finishing a big project, and it’s so, so close to being done but there’s just a ton of little details, too many to write down, so it’s all in my head, right, and—” she sucks in a breath, and then stops. Rolls her arms back. Scratches her head. “Sorry, didn’t mean to drop that so suddenly. It’s just a lot.”

When she looks back up at him, he forgets there’s a space around them.

He’s leaned in too close. So close he can smell her hairspray and the faint Sharpie from her hand.

Her voice is small, as if there’s anyone else that could hear them. “But it’s almost done. That’s good, right?”

As if he’s hit too close to the pit inside him, a cut to the quick of something he couldn’t name, he moves away so he can’t smell how she smells like sugar cookies, of all things. On the side of his thigh where she can’t see, he rubs his palm on his pant leg. Swallowing, he says, “Won’t finish if you keep falling.” Fuck. His throat is too dry. “You should rest more. I-it’s important!” He screws up his face. I sound like my dad.

#miraculous ladybug #asukies answered #ask game

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knownangels · 1 month ago

Text

walking at night (october prompt)

wc: 3732

Benji knows he doesn’t belong in this place. Clearly, he isn’t the only one.

When the double doors swing open (shiny, recently cleaned glass and gold accents he has to assume are real), several heads turn his direction.

The hotel bar is fancy. Except that’s not the best word for it. Doesn’t do the establishment justice; Benji just lacks the proper descriptive skill to take a crack.

He’s keen (and used to) to DIY places without a license. Where ‘dimly lit’ meant electric hadn’t been paid, not ‘mood lighting’. Dive bars. The nasty yet entirely self-legitimate sort of establishments that have a mysteriously consistent crust over every surface, no matter what bar, what country, what continent. The kind that make you balance on rotting subfloor to take a piss at a toilet without a tank lid. With stalls that sport not just sharpie cock and phone numbers area codes the world over, but good and proper tagging.

Good graffiti is hard to come by these days.

Certainly isn’t any here, Benji thinks, lingering next to a potted plant at the entrance that’s got several centimeters on him.

And there’s no crust to anything. In fact, the mood-lit bar has been recently cleaned; he can tell from the scent in the air. No harsh cleaners, but something like what Saha uses: all natural, essential oils, what the fuck ever.

The smell mingles (shockingly well) with the variety of scents worn by the bar patrons. At every glittering marble-topped table are a few rich blokes in nice suits. A prim businesswoman, here or there. At a hightop, two heiress types in expensive athleisure sneak pulls from a vape. Their designer bags sit out in the open, not tucked around a shoulder or tight between knees to prevent opportunity.

Benji shouldn’t be here. Not just that he feels so out of place, so alone in a total alien environment, but because both his moral compass and political foundation feel…itchy. It’s bad enough they’ve copped rooms at such a posh hotel. The bar’s gotta be like this?

He’s about to turn on his heel and leave when he catches one of the barteners’ attention. A handsome woman with short cropped hair; he supposes he hesitates because her smart white button-up and sleek black suspenders remind him of Bunny.

Bunny would do well in a place like this. He can imagine her sitting here for hours until a proper insomniac, toying with all this prey. Less networking. More making up lies for fun, picking apart their tiny insecurities, and boasting with just the right amount of ‘oh, it isn’t that impressive’ and ‘you should honestly just kill yourself right now in front of me’.

Thinking of her has his lips twitching, and the bartender must take that as a sign of her fish on the hook. She lifts a hand and waves in a way that seems…shockingly welcoming. Almost normal. Almost.

Benji meanders towards the bar, tucking closer to himself than he needs to. All of the tables and chairs are spaced well far apart, and somehow the place still seems intimate.

He’s a fucking cynic, of course, so all he can think is that it has to be a part of the gimmick. Some trust-fund psychologist turned interior designer had figured out how to design the place like a comforting venus flytrap for rich idiots.

Benji supposes he’s one of those: he sits at the bar. It’s unlike any he’s ever sat at before. The counter is solid rock of some sort, polished enough but not overly so; it’s grittiness seems purposeful. The counter encircles the bartenders and their stations, as well as a massive glass shelf unit in the center. It’s taller than he is, maybe three times so, and well fucking stocked.

He can’t recognize a single label past the lowest shelf.

“Are you a patron of the hotel?”

Benji must make a face.

The bartender is polishing a glass, but she pauses to hold up a few placating fingers.

“I know how that sounds.” She casts a glance down to the far end of the counter, where another bartender is focused on two patrons. “My manager gets so bent out of shape if we don’t ask.”

“I get it,” Benji says, because he does. He had the experience of a few shit retail jobs between meager residual checks, back when he and Lark had first started out.

“Give me just a second.” The bartender says. Her focus drifts to a newcomer. Maybe a well-tipping regular, judging from the eager little glint to her eye.

“No worries,” Benji says. He wonders if she’s really that good at her job: comfortable enough now, he lets his jacket slip off around the chair.

Are you manipulating me? He thinks at her back as she goes. Don’t feel like I fit here, but maybe you think I do. That’s fuckin’ horrifying.

She doesn’t take long. Benji decides he respects the honesty of chasing a tip, and the fact that she returns to chat shit seems a good sign as well.

“Mel,” she introduces. “What caught your attention?”

A glass bottle on the fourth shelf. Benji points at it, and she turns.

“That a cock on the label? Who fuckin’ picked that.”

Mel laughs, taps her nose. “Someone with great taste. Want a try?”

He balks a bit. “Uh.”

“On the house,” Mel concedes, already going for a rocks glass and a pair of ice tongs. The places Benji would usually go, ice just gets fuckin’ dirty palmed.

She pours him a generous two fingers worth. Benji doesn’t recognize the liquid or the label, so he isn’t sure at all how he’s meant to take the drink.

So he takes it like a shot.

It does not go down like one.

Mel slaps a hand over her mouth. “Oh fuck, I’m sorry. I should have — here.” She rushes to get him a pint, just something off tap. Benji glares at her without heat from the rim of the glass, eyes admittedly a bit teary.

“That was a test, a little bit.”

“For?”

She shrugs. “You already don’t seem like the type to come in here and pay fifteen for a shot of regular ass vodka. It’s…nice.”

Benji leans on the counter and assesses the room again. The newcomer is the only one who seems to be paying them attention. He can’t fully tell in the darkness of the bar, but he might be a redhead.

“Are you a musician?”

Benji smiles nervously. He hopes she doesn’t know who he is, hopes she isn’t playing at ignorance.

“Yeah, s’pose. Some might say.”

“Some wouldn’t?”

“Bunch more than some, I think.” He takes another sip.

“Controversial?”

Benji feels something cool settle in his stomach. Almost panic, but not quite. “We’ve had a bit of it, maybe.”

“Oooh.” Mel says. She closes one eye. “Band, then? We?”

“Right.”

She shakes her head. “Well. I hope you enjoy for now. You’re good company, so I might come bother you between scamming.”

Benji laughs. “Alright.”

“It was nice to meet you…” she trails off, and Benji realizes with an embarrassed blink he hasn’t introduced himself back.

“Benji.”

The newcomer at the end of the bar coughs. Mel casts a glance his way, and then smiles apologetically before meandering down.

After a few pints, Benji makes the mistake of checking his phone. He groans and pinches between his eyes.

“Ready for it?”

His shoulders tighten at the sudden intrusion on his quiet; Mel was a quick and decent reader of people, so had given him space. Now she’s back with that same apologetic smile.

“Tired of me?”

She shrugs. He likes how she does it. A bit of attitude there. Feels familiar. “Not trying to kick you out, promise. You just don’t seem like the until-closing barfly type.”

He’s tipsy enough to be loose, so Benji presses a hand over his heart. “Fuckin’ hell, thank you. I’ll take that compliment any day of the week.”

Mel is quiet a moment. Then her eyes narrow in a friendly sort of glint. “You know where else you might get those?”

“Hm?”

“Compliments.”

Benji blinks at her, shakes his head.

As sneakily as she seems able to manage, Mel points down the bar towards the other patron. He’s one of the last few people to linger, along with Benji and the heiresses. There are two rocks glasses beside him, and the remnants of —he tries to remember the drink that gets an orange peel and a cherry. Maran can down those little fuckers like no tomorrow.

“I don’t usually do this, but that guy would not stop asking what you were drinking.”

Benji blinks to clear the bit of fuzz to his vision. When he turns his head, he finds the other man is watching them with a hand propping his chin.

The second their eyes meet, his widen. Benji can’t tell if he blushes in the bar mood lighting, but he figures it’s a good probability: he ducks his head and tucks around himself.

Always been chum in the water for Benji — shyness.

He’s sweet, Benji supposes. Bit too awkward, maybe. His hands shake where they rest on Benji’s forearms as he gets both their belts undone, and he finds out his hunch was right. Redhead.

He can’t help but to think that it could be better, though. It could be a dingy, shitty bathroom in the sub basement of some warehouse turned DIY club. It could be a wood-paneled family owned place off in the country.

Rather, the hotel bar’s bathroom is all sleek lines and polished granite. There aren’t any knobs on the faucet of the sink Benji presses the man against.

Fancy.

The next morning, he wakes late to a text from Bunny.

Damage control working on it. Don’t freak out, it cost me too much money last time.

Benji palms his face, feeling groggy and sore. He squints at the message.

Then the anxiety smacks into him.

He finds the source of her cryptic (and more than a bit insensitive) message. It’s a post on some music subreddit making the rounds, talking about an encounter they had with ‘Ratspit’s own’.

His heart drops into his stomach at the title. Betrayal is a swift and brutal plunge of a blade, but the real twist of the knife is the post’s first sentence:

I don’t want to doxx myself, but I work at a bar and one of our guests last night was—

It goes on from there. What Benji had to drink as proof of the encounter, with several others commenting to chime in the alcohol choice ‘seemed like him’ and thus added credibility. The post even mentions him leaving with the stranger, coy assertions that he seemed very happy when he finally left. There’s a comment asking what he was wearing. A comment asking what hotel, specifically, for no worrying reason. There’s a comment where someone asks if anyone else in the thread remembers the drama in Montreal, the man he’d been pictured with in Houston, and on.

He texts Bunny back. They rarely do, so he fucking hope she doesn’t read too much into it.

I’ll handle it. Call off the dogs, creep.

Fuck you, comes the immediate response, but Benji doesn’t get a call from their PR lad, so he figures she at least listened.

That night, after rehearsals and a day on the town with Nomi that he thinks he manages to be normal through, Benji returns to the bar.

It hadn’t seemed particularly mysterious or magical the first time he’d been, but at least some of the intrigue has been lifted. It really is just an overpriced, pretentious bar for investment losers cheating on their wives.

He can’t believe he sat in this place so long. Had drinks here. Amongst a bunch of top-tier A-level pricks who were probably fiscally conservative, socially progressive liberals who would still suck Reagan raw given the opportunity.

Fuckin’ hell. He’d gone for two pints in the same room with investment bankers.

But he’s got a mission, as much as he’d like to leave and never return.

Mel is working again. She seems surprised to see him, but tentatively happy.

Benji doesn’t smile at her as he sits, or get friendly whatsoever. He orders a pint and waits for her to bring it. All the while, he stares up at that funny bottle. The label of that nasty whatever she’d recommended a taste. Benji stares at that medieval manuscript style drawing cock with wings.

Then he clears his throat. It’s a test.

Mel fails. She looks up too eagerly. Too much friendly, intimate comfort written all over her face.

Touched with a hint of guilt.

Benji imagines letting her have it. Getting rowdy. Loud, like half the people that hate him like to imagine punks get. Do get, really. It’s not a far-off stereotype, not without its edge of truth; there were times where they were the rotten, chaotic free-spirited young musicians who didn’t bat an eye upon receiving a bill of a solid grand for their trashed hotel room.

Go outside once in awhile, he wants to say to her. Do you think a normal person goes and posts every conversation they have with any average prick online? Do you think I wouldn’t find out? That I’m above it all like that? Or did you think I wouldn’t care. Or worse. Were you thinking at all about me?

Instead Benji stares at her. His breathing is even, deep. Relaxed, the way he doesn’t feel whatsoever.

Benji’s arms are crossed on the counter. He slowly nudges them forward until the pint glass tips off the inner edge of the bar and shatters at Mel’s feet.

“Oops.” Benji says. Then he drops a five dollar note on the counter, stands, and leaves.

Bunny had rented them the entire floor of rooms. They were there for a whole weekend, a music festival about thirty minutes out. Matilda advocated for no expense spared at some peace and quiet. Some safety.

Their floor is quite high up, but Benji avoids the elevator. Something about being enclosed in that glass box, alone except for the blinking dot of the security camera in the corner, feels a bit too on the nose for him right now.

When it dings for him to get off, he turns down the hall towards his door.

And then he pauses. He blinks.

At the far end of the hall, Xavier lifts a hand chest-high, as if he means to wave. It drops, as does the eager smile beginning to spread his lips.

Benji’s heart does something similar; plummets straight into his stomach with a cold chill of embarrassment. He turns towards his door, fumbling with the little plastic circle meant to get him in. He swipes and swipes and swipes it, as he hears long strides incoming.

It seems pitiful to chance a look over his shoulder. It feels pitiful, desperate, lonely. But he’s glad he does.

“Benji!” Xavier yells, and then slaps a hand over his own mouth. Wide green eyes dart side to side, pink peeking at his cheeks under the edge of his big hand. It lowers, and Benji is summarily stunned by the adorably sheepish grin hiding beneath.

“Shush.” He admonishes. The bloody door still won’t open.

Xavier falters for a moment, but only that. HIs gait slows, dripping rejection, until he realizes he isn’t being dismissed; Benji stands still, hands tucked in his hoodie and —

Waiting. He’s waiting. So Xavier comes towards him quicker, eager, excited.

Fuckin’ hell, Benji thinks, scrubbing a hand back through his hair. Fuckin’ hell, mate, have some self-preservation, you’ve got no idea — you’ve no idea what I’ve been thinking, are you serious?

Xavier stops several feet away. The hotel hall is dimly lit with fancy sconces lining the walls, orange glow turned soft for the night. He looks. Well. Benji, who is occasionally paid by the word if the lyrics are good enough, cannot manage a single syllable.

“Alright?”

“Yes.” Xavier breathes. That grin widens. “I mean, hey.”

They stare at one another a beat.

“Can’t sleep?”

“No rest for the wicked?”

Their synchronization makes Benji toss his head back and laugh.

“Fuck off,” he says, unable to keep any bit of fondness concealed.

“I heard there’s a crazy expensive bar downstairs.” Xavier smiles, pats his back pocket. “And I just got paid.”

Benji winces. “Ah. Not really my style. Or yours, if m’honest.”

Xavier looks absolutely heartbroken for a moment. It’s tortuous.

So, even though he’s exhausted and buzzed with the adrenaline of a confrontation, Benji tilts his head back towards the elevators. “I was gonna turn in but. Fancy a walk, instead?”

“Sure. Yeah.” Xavier sounds winded, still.

The elevator ride back down is mostly silent. At the door, the hotel doorman gives Benji a nod and then says something into his earpiece; maybe making note of the time of his departure, or letting Tino know that he’s been spotted, has a chaperone.

Benji glances up at said guard. Only to find him staring down. He blushes when he’s caught, and Benji can only think of fucking chum.

“Been busy? If you’ve already done your laps tonight, no worries.” He gestures at Xavier’s heaving chest.

Xavier looks, as if unaware. He takes a big breath and lets it out slow; Benji catches his fingers shivering as he winds them together and pulls at knuckles until they pop.

Shaking? Nervous, Xavier? I make you fuckin’ nervous?

They escape the hotel, dancing awkwardly out its rotating doors and into the cool night air. Benji can’t help but admonish himself a bit; he hadn’t even checked for a crowd or the absurdly committed fan or two usually lingering wherever they went. He wonders, distantly, if Xavier’s presence had scared them off. At the last few shows, Xavier had developed a bit of a reputation.

Take no shit, is what Benji had overheard him say to Benny, voice clogged by a broken nose. You gotta establish dominance. Like, y’know. The hierarchy of nature. Like meerkats.

Meerkats? Benny had asked incredulously, prodding at the blood on Xavier’s upper lip.

Yeah, dude, you ever seen Meerkat Manor? Those little fucks are metal.

The hotel isn’t situated in a particularly busy part of the city, but its a big enough town to have cars out on the street this late.

Benji smiles at the memory, tucks close to Xavier against the chill. He’s so fucking warm, all the time.

“So I take it that’s a no?”

“No!” Xavier says quickly. Then his brows pinch. “Uh, I mean? No, it’s not a no. What you’re asking about. Um. What were you asking about?”

Benji snorts. “Asked if you’d gotten your exercise, if comin’ for a walk was a bother.”

“No,” Xavier repeats even faster. “No, this is — I kinda needed this.”

Benji feels his snide, half-sided grin turn genuine and is somewhat terrified of that. “Yeah? Me too.”

“Shit day?” Xavier asks it sincerely, but he’s also glued to his phone enough that Benji has no doubt he’s at least a bit aware of the latest gossip.

“Yeah, you could say.” He leans in conspiratorially, completely in the other man’s space now. “I like this, though. Feels better.”

Xavier trips over a rock or a crack in the sidewalk, yelping just as he’s about to respond. “Ah! Fuck. This?”

Benji pauses and waits for him to stop, too. They stop outside and open-late deli, whose flickering neon sign side casts Xavier in pretty reds and blues.

Mood lighting, Benji thinks with something far too soft lodged in his throat.

“Spending time with you.” Benji says. He doesn’t feel bold for the honesty; it’s just the truth. Why not tell him? What’s he got to fucking lose, the rest of his dignity? He can handle a rejection, after all that.

It doesn’t help that Xavier looks so sweetly startled by the admission. His cheeks are pink, little rosy thumb-sized dots of color high on his cheeks. They start to join in a flush over his nose.

“Oh.” Xavier says. He blinks rapidly before breaking out into a smile so bright Benji feels like he’s staring into the spotlight.

“I like spending time with you too, Benji. I’m —” he pauses here, hands coming up to lace in front of his stomach. They coil and knot and fret. His usual tell. Whatever he wanted to say gets pushed visibly down, and Benji mourns it for a moment.

Just a moment. Because Xavier goes on:

“You’re cool. I’m glad somebody cool wants to be around me.”

Benji shakes his head. He knocks his boot against Xavier’s calf. “Mate, wouldn’t pay the compliment if I didn’t mean it? Wouldn’t be out here walkin’ with anybody.”

Xavier’s smile grows. It’s sort of addicting to accomplish. So Benji goes on, too:

“Naw, Xavier, honest. Not just flattering you. Think I get along with people like this? Fuck no.” A laugh that he hopes doesn’t sound too bitter. “Sounds mad and probably egotistical to say, but it’s hard…y’know, making friends like this. Especially ones as fast with it as you.”

Xavier’s blush depends, and he ducks his head. Shyly. “Come on.”

“No, honest. Banter with the best of ‘em, swear you do.”

Xavier scuffs his shoe. Benji can’t help what happens. He leans in, chin tilted, eyes cast up Xavier’s chest to find his face.

“Not bad to look at either, if I’m honest.”

The smarmy little compliment is received exactly as he anticipated. Xavier, clearly too flustered to function, mumbles something that might be a polite, awkward Catholic fucking ‘thanks!’ before immediately trying to pull Benji’s attention away.

He oohs and aahs at the late night joint in front of which they’ve paused their walk, pulling Benji’s sleeve. Trying to convince him to go in, as much as he is trying to get a reprieve from the compliments.

And yet, when Xavier’s eyes get too big for his stomach (a fucking feat, if the stories Lark tells are anything to go by), it’s Benji, idiot, who carries the boxes full of wings and two different pizzas and a cookie cake and subs and massive potato fries back to the hotel.

Xavier’s blinding smile is worth it. Lights everything up nice and lovely.

#writing #band au #bp #xw #bp x xw

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