#You either end a good story or you drag it out long enough to see it become a train wreck 🙃

[gyaruhana]

can I ask for player 333 (myung-gi) sfw and nsfw headcanons 🙏

Myung-gi/Player 333 - Headcannons

Synopsis: sfw and nsfw headcannons for Myung-gi!

A/N: I tried my best for him !! Everytime i see him though all i think about is Jongwoo from Strangers From Hell since it's the same actor. Although they are still the same with their sassiness anyway

Warnings: smutty content, he's a little bit rough, mentions of enjoying cum/eating out,

SFW:

➠ Where to start with this sassy idiot??

➠ He really tries to be a good boyfriend.. He’s so doting and caring and ALWAYS has his eye on you to make sure you’re safe..

➠ He makes some poor investments in crypto and every time feels super guilty since he told you that the both of you would be rich as hell if you just invested.

➠ Of course, he always makes up for it by going out with you somewhere

➠ Please reassure this man that you won’t decide to leave him one day

➠ He always gets so nervous whenever you two argue because he can’t help but argue back and always ends up saying things he just doesn’t mean..

➠ Cuddles after arguments for sure because he needs to feel you to know that you aren’t going anywhere.

➠ He’s a glare-at-a-distance typa jealous

➠ If anyone flirts with you he’s staring them down looking so annoyed !!

➠ He’s not like super big on PDA so he wouldn’t just walk up to you and start kissing you but he would totally grab your wrist and not-so-politely excuse the both of you before dragging you away

➠ FOR THE RECORD !! Just because he’s not big on pda doesn’t mean he’s not kissing you in public.

➠ While he’s not going to make out with you he’ll totally give you quick kisses

➠ Also so much hand holding so he can keep you close.. 

➠ Overall, just a sassy sweetheart who makes some mistakes but always makes it up to you in the end

NSFW:

➠ I’m gonna say this once and I’m gonna say it loudly,

➠ Angry sex

➠ Okay, I know I just said he was a sweetheart but when he’s jealous it’s a different story

➠ He fucks you like he’s trying to make sure you know your all his while also trying to make himself believe your his ??

➠ He’s not very loud, just some small grunts here and there but you can still very much hear when he’s whispering in your ear about how you’re his.

➠ He expects you to say that you’re his too. He needs to hear you admitting that you belong to him.

➠ He also enjoys it when you beg for him to cum inside you. It just really turns him on to see you beg to have your stomach bloated with his cum.

➠ Also likes to eat you out so he can taste you.. You just taste so good to him and it drives him crazy

➠ Honestly likes to overstimulate himself when fucking you because he loves being so close to you and, no matter how sensitive he gets, he doesn’t stop till he collapses on top of you

➠ On a different note.. He actually enjoys being the sub sometimes

➠ He just likes having you take control and make him feel good bc it reassures him that you love him

➠ Still quiet but is more whiny when he’s submissive

➠ Doesn’t do choking but probably still wants either you hand around his throat gently when you ride him or his hand around your throat when he’s fucking into you

➠ I feel like he’s not super bothered where he releases his cum but also tries not to be too messy

➠ Gentle afterwards by the way !! Cute little aftercare where he mainly just holds you and plays with your hair..

➠ Overall, he’s a jealous switch and sort of vanilla

"mine, mine, mine- all mine," he says as he thrusts into you with his face buried into your neck. He had been going for far too long by now. Every time he released his cum inside you he just kept going like it wasn't enough. He was tired and sweaty but his hips kept moving as if his movements weren't his own. He could barely hold himself up now. "Holy fuck, please let me cum. I wanna fill you up, baby,"

[tootiecakes234]

A continuation of Bakugo’s transformation story.

*this will pick up from Katsuki coming over to you and Mina.

“Hey I need to talk to you.” Katsuki says as he walks up to you and Mina. Not even giving either of you a greeting.

“Um, do you not see us having a conversation?” You ask him.

“Exactly, like I’m standing right here.” Mina said circling around Bakugo because he hasn’t even glanced in her direction.

“Yea, yea. I’m sure which ever celebrity you two are gushing over can wait until later.” He grunts.

“Oooop. He’s got us there. Are we that predictable??” Mina asks pretending to be surprised.

“Yes. Now let’s go.” And that’s the end of that because now he’s pulling you behind him and all you can do is try to keep your footing following in his steps.

“Jeez, slow the hell down. My legs are not as fucking long as yours.” You mutter as he continues to drag you.

“Not my fucking fault that you’re fuckin short.” He says and you can hear the smug smile on his face.

“Im only a couple inches shorter than you. One good pair of heels and I’d be looking down on you.” You inform him politely.

“Yea, like you’re gonna put on a pair of heels🙄”

And then you’re being pressed up against the wall while he hovers in front you.

“So what’s so impor- mmmhh”

Your words are cut off as he presses his lips against yours. You’re shocked initially but then you feels his lips moving against yours. All you can do is melt up against him.

Down bad doesn’t even begin to describe it.

After a minute or two he pulls away from you breathing deeply. It takes you both a moment to catch your breath.

“Is that really the important thing you had to tell me??” You manage to breathe out when your mind finally catches up to the situation.

“Mmm.. that felt important didn’t it?” He asks with his voice all husky.

You answer him quickly, “not important enough for you to be stealing me from my friend.”

His face pulls into a cute grin, “You say that, but you’re rubbin up against me like a cat.”

You then realize he’s right. Your arms are up on his shoulders while your hands rub up and down his undercut.

You try to pull back to correct this but steel hands land on your hips, keeping you in place.

“Where the hell do you think you’re goin? I still got important thing to discuss with you.” And then he’s leaning back down to meet your lips.

You can’t stop the smile that forms on your lips.

You’re both are so whipped and you both know it, but also refuse to admit it.

[ellewritesx]

teach me slowly

Summary: Harry doesn't mind waiting, as long as it's you he's waiting for. a harry styles x inexperienced!reader series

Warnings: early stages of a relationship, age gap, sexual advances, lots of talk about virginity and sex, that's it for now

Based on: this ask!

A/N: hi lovelies! this is the new series i'll be writing now that we've parted ways with the sugar, baby series for now (sobbing). huge shoutout to anon who submitted the request this is based on. while exaggerating things for fiction is fun, i tried to also be relatively realistic about virginity. tag list is open :) this first part is, as always with my series, kind of a prologue to the story. have fun x

Word Count: 2,529

...

The first time you stopped him, it was subtle. A hand against his chest, a breathless ''maybe not tonight,'' and a kiss that lingered just long enough to prove you still wanted him, just not like that, not right now. He didn't push, didn't ask questions, just smiled against your lips and said, ''Alright, love. Another time.''

It wasn't the last time it happened.

You've been seeing Harry for a few months now, longer than you expected when he'd first spotted you across a room you didn't belong in, some industry party you'd been dragged to by a friend of a friend, too many faces and too many flashes. Harry was in the spotlight, the center of attention, you were hidden away in a dark corner, and yet his eyes managed to find yours through the sea of faces.

When he walked over, laid-back, confident, too pretty for his own good, you expected it to be fleeting. Maybe flirtation, a drink or two, something to roll your eyes about later.

But then he asked for your number. And not even two days later, he actually used it. And now here you are, tucked under his arm with his heartbeat thudding steadily beneath your ear.

It's late. A slow Friday night, the familiar sounds of reruns of Friends filling Harry's apartment as you're curled into his side, your fingers absently tracing a pattern against the slope of his ribs. The scent of cheap takeout still lingers in the air, mixing with the cologne he wore earlier, now faded into the cotton of his worn-in hoodie.

You feel it when his hand shifts. When it goes from lazily draped around your waist to something more deliberate, fingers tracing a purposeful path under the hem of your sweatshirt.

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours, making you smile at the faint taste of wine still lingering on his tongue. Your breath hitches, deepening the kiss, one hand fisting in his shirt. His hands graze your bare skin, curling at your waist, pressing you closer to him.

But the moment they start to travel higher, sliding up your midriff toward your chest like it's second nature, your stomach drops, and before you've fully thought it through, your hand slides over his and stops him, gently, but definitively.

''Sorry,'' you whisper against his lips, squeezing your eyes shut so you don't have to see the disappointment likely flashing across his face. ''I… Sorry, can we not tonight?''

Harry opens his eyes, confusion etched into his features like he was just abruptly woken from a peaceful dream. He blinks down at you, clearly startled by your tone. ''Yeah, of course,'' he says, pulling his hand back immediately. ''You okay?''

You nod quickly ''Yeah. Just… tired.''

It's not a lie. But it's not the whole truth either. You feel him hesitate, like he wants to press, wants an explanation, answers, but chooses not to. Just kisses the top of your head and settles back into the cushions, shifting so you're still cuddled into his side.

The silence stretches between you, not uncomfortable, but different now. Tense. Loaded. You let it sit there, unsure how to break it. Not yet, at least. But soon. You have to.

It takes you a few more minutes, waiting for the episode to end, for Harry's breathing to even out slightly, having willed away his arousal. When you turn your head to look at him, he's watching you with the kind of quiet patience you've come to recognize.

''I need to tell you something,'' you say finally. Your voice doesn't shake, but your heart is beating erratically. You sit up on the couch, just enough to give yourself some room to breathe. ''I've been meaning to. I just... I didn't know how.''

Harry sits back a little, his hand moving to lightly rest on your leg, calming you. Concern flickers across his eyes, focused frown on his face, his curiosity piqued. ''Okay. What is it?''

You push your hair behind your ear, fingers suddenly clammy. ''I've... I've noticed you've tried to take things further a few times now. And I always stop you.''

His eyes stay on yours, steady, unreadable. ''Yeah. I've noticed. I don't mind waiting, love.''

You inhale. ''It's not that I don't want to. It's just… I've never actually done it before.''

For a moment, Harry says nothing. His brows knit together, like he's processing, like the words don't quite click at first. Then something shifts. Not judgment, not disgust, just genuine surprise.

''You mean… you're a virgin?''

You nod once, jaw tight. Your heart stutters, bracing yourself for his inevitable rejection, already regretting bringing it up. ''Yeah.''

There's a pause. A long one.

But then Harry exhales, a soft smile tugging at his lips, head ducking to meet your gaze. ''Okay,'' he says softly. ''That's okay.''

You blink at him. ''You're not weirded out?''

He smiles, kind. ''No, of course not. I just… I wasn't expecting it. You're so confident. So sure of yourself. I guess I assumed…''

''That I'd done all of that already?'' you finish for him, smiling weakly.

He shrugs. ''Yeah. Doesn't change anything, though.''

Your bite your lip. ''You're older than me. More experienced. I thought maybe you'd be… disappointed.''

''I'm not,'' he tells you firmly, his hand finding yours, leaving no room for your doubts and fears.

You swallow the lump in your throat, feeling the warmth of his raw honesty settle somewhere deep in your chest.

Then, a beat later, his voice drops slightly, light-hearted but still earnest. ''So… would you want me to be your first?''

You look up at him, fidgeting with your fingers anxiously. ''I don't know. But if I did… would you want to be?''

His eyes search yours. ''If you decided you wanted that, I'd be honored.''

You sigh in relief. After the initial heaviness of the moment has passed and you've both found your way back into the soft cushions of the couch, it's quiet for a while. Not the kind of silence that stretches with discomfort, but something gentler. Pensive.

His fingers trace idle shapes over the back of your hand, and every now and then you catch him glancing at you like he's thinking about saying something, but keeps deciding against it.

Until finally, he does.

''Can I ask you something?'' His voice is soft, almost sheepish. Like he's worried you might shut down again.

You turn to face him, tugging the throw blanket around your legs a little higher. ''Of course.''

His thumb slides along your knuckles, thoughtful. ''Are you saving yourself for marriage? Or was it just... situational?''

The question doesn't surprise you. You were expecting it. Still, there's something about him saying it aloud that makes your chest ache. It's the explanation people seem to instantly assume, like there couldn't be any other possible reason to not want to have sex in your early twenties. The prejudice bothers you sometimes.

You shake your head with a chuckle. ''Not marriage, no. I just…'' You pause, choosing your words carefully. ''I never found someone I wanted to give it to. It never felt right. It always felt like… I don't know, something I'd be giving away for the wrong reason.''

Harry nods like that makes perfect sense, like you've just confirmed something he suspected about you all along. That you don't move through the world withholding things, you move through it protecting them. ''You wanted it to matter.''

''Yeah.'' You smile faintly. ''I guess I figured that the first time should be something I remember fondly. Not something I regretted five minutes after.''

''That makes sense,'' he says, reaching up to brush a fallen strand of hair out of your face. ''I kind of figured something was holding you back. I just didn't know if it was because you were nervous, or waiting for something specific… or someone specific.''

Your cheeks flush. ''I guess it's both.''

A smile spreads across his face, slow and reverent. ''And you think that... might be me?''

You glance away, trying not to look too embarrassed. ''Maybe,'' you admit quietly, before glancing at him, raising a brow. ''And you? First time with someone special?''

He huffs out a laugh, scratching at the side of his jaw. ''Not exactly. I was young, dumb, and too eager to impress someone older than me. Regret's not the word, but I wouldn't say it was magical.''

You both laugh softly at that, and the tension that had crept in between your ribs eases again. There's a pause. He meets your eyes carefully, trying to phrase his question without making you squirm. ''Have you ever... touched yourself?''

The heat rises to your cheeks instantly, not from shame, but from the sheer boldness of the question. Your relationship with Harry is still relatively new, and for a moment, you don't know how to respond.

Your eyes flicker down to the curve of his smile, cheeky but careful, like he's testing the waters. You tuck your knees up slightly under the blanket. ''I mean... Yeah, of course.''

That earns you a grin. He shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look at you properly, his other hand rubbing up and down your arm soothingly. ''And? Has it ever felt... good?''

Your eyes narrow a little, teasing. ''Are you asking if I've had an orgasm before?''

''Yeah,'' he admits, unabashed now. ''Not trying to be weird. I just want to know where we're starting from.''

You shrug, a bit self-conscious. ''I think I've had a few? But like… nothing crazy. I don't know if it's something wrong with me or—''

''Hey,'' he cuts you off gently, hand brushing your hip. ''There's nothing wrong with you. You know that, right?''

You nod, but it feels like a reflex, not something you fully believe yet. He must sense it, because he dips forward and presses a kiss to your shoulder, warm and grounding. Then another, just beneath your jaw. ''It's harder for women, y'know? But it'll get better. Some things just take time. Patience. And the right person. I'm glad you've tried.''

You snort. ''Why? Would it have been a red flag if I'd said no?''

He chuckles, pressing another sweet kiss against your skin before pulling back. ''No, not a red flag. I just think it's important. Knowing your own body. Knowing what feels good.''

There's something so matter-of-fact in the way he says it that it makes the conversation feel less intimidating. Less taboo. You inhale deeply, a weight lifted off your shoulders now, and you run your fingers along his biceps to ground yourself.

''I haven't explored much. It felt... underwhelming. But with the way everyone raves about sex, I must be doing something wrong.''

His thumb stills over your hand, his expression softening. ''That's okay. It'll be different when you're with someone else. With me.''

You glance at him, curious. ''How so?''

He shifts toward you, arm slung over the back of the couch now. ''It's a mix of things. Trust. Communication. Timing. Like… it's not just friction, right? It's being seen. It's vulnerability. Intimacy. And if that isn't there, if you don't feel comfortable, it's hard to get there.''

Your stomach flutters at the way he says it, so attentive, so considerate. ''That's kind of what I'm scared of. That it'd be awkward. Or disappointing.''

Harry's voice dips lower, more serious now. ''It doesn't have to be. Especially if you're honest. If we are.''

You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear and smile bashfully, ''That's what I want, I think. Just... honesty. I don't want to have to pretend I know everything. Because I don't, and I don't want to have to act, to perform.''

He nods, the corner of his mouth tugging into something fond. ''I don't want you to do that either.''

You settle into the cushions, knee brushing his thigh. ''Have you ever been with someone inexperienced before?''

He thinks for a second, then shakes his head. ''Not really, no. I mean, I've been with people who had less experience than me, sure. But never… never someone completely new to it.''

Your eyes find his again. ''Does that scare you?''

He gives you a look, a lopsided smile on his face. ''No. If anything, it makes me want to be better. I want to make it good for you.''

That does something to you, sends a warmth crawling up your spine. ''You're already doing everything right, Harry.''

''Am I?'' he teases, bumping his shoulder with yours.

You laugh shyly. ''Yeah. You ask questions. You listen. You make me feel… like it's okay to not have all the answers yet.''

''It is okay,'' he reiterates.

You smile gratefully, but your insecurity creeps back in quickly. Your voice is timid when you speak again. ''So you don't think it's weird? That I haven't… done any of it?''

''Not even a little,'' he says, cupping your face gently, thumb brushing along your cheekbone. ''I think it's admirable, actually. You're twenty-three, and you've gone this long without letting someone touch you, just because nobody earned it? That's sexy as hell.''

You huff out a laugh, surprised. ''Really?''

''Really,'' he says, lips quirking. ''It means you know your worth. You know what you want. I wish I'd had your strength of will at that age.''

You smile gratefully, tension slowly uncoiling from your shoulders. ''Thanks. I don't always feel that way.''

Harry dips his head down, pressing a short, sweet kiss against your lips, effectively shutting up your mind. He sinks back into the couch with a satisfied smirk, cushions dipping under his weight.

You swallow nervously. ''Hey, just out of curiosity. What… what would you have done if I'd told you I was waiting for marriage?''

He raises a brow. ''You mean, like… completely off-limits?''

You nod.

He considers that. ''I would've respected it. Obviously. But I probably would've asked what else we could do instead. Would still want to be close to you, in whatever way you'd be comfortable with.''

You nod. ''I think that's the thing. I do want to be close. I just… I want it to mean something.''

He hums in response. There's a peaceful silence then. You're both thinking, processing. It's the kind of silence that only happens when you feel truly at ease with someone.

''So… if we did want to start exploring things… slowly…''

He grins, just a little. ''Want me to teach you, huh?''

You roll your eyes. ''Don't make it a thing.''

He lifts both hands in surrender, chuckling softly. ''We'll go at your pace. Whatever that looks like. You just tell me, yeah?''

You nod, the corners of your mouth tugging into a fond smile. ''Thanks, Harry. For being cool about all this.''

He scoffs. ''I'm not being cool,'' he says. ''I'm being decent. What kind of idiots have you been surrounding yourself with?''

That earns him a playful shove, but he catches your wrist and kisses the inside of it, right where your pulse flutters at the touch. His eyes flick up to yours, warm and steady.

''Whenever you're ready, love,'' he says softly.

...

thank you so much for reading! i appreciate any and all support so remember to like, comment and reblog. requests are open! 💕

general tag list @2601-london @mads3502 @angeldavis777 @run-for-the-hills @postsexfistbump @hobireasns @madilee7802 @spinninc @practistyles @qrapejuices @fangirl509east @sstylezzz @hontpwk @lichi-dunkera

...

[canihaveacalmtime]

"Here's your hot cocoa, have a good evening!"

You receive your drink as you bow, thanking the employee and go outside to find a seat. As you sat next to a decorated christmas tree, you look in front of you and see a giant build board printed a familiar face on it.

Should you be proud to know that your memory is very good because you could recognize your highschool bully?

Probably not, haha...

You take a sip of your cocoa, thinking about what had happened in the past between the two of you.

--------------------------

It's like any other highschool bully story that everyone always read, during your first year, you were picked on by the richest and the most handsome guy in school and he forced you to do his homework everyday for 2 years. Tormenting you in the halls, drag you out whenever his mood isn't it, making you a laughing stock for the whole school.

But why only 2 years? Because everything went upside down for him when the last year started.

His parents had enough of him and brutally cut off his bank account, told him that either he learn how to work hard or he'd never get his hands on his father company. When he thought that his long time friends would still be there to support him through this, they quickly turn their backs on him upon knowing that he has no use left to them.

During the time he was at his worst, you stepped in and offer him a helping hand, telling him that you will help him with everything for this last year and in return, he must comply with your one request and can not decline.

He was wary at first when you suddenly did that but he had no other choices as there was no one else except you that would help him anyways.

And he was not disappointed for trusting you, you supported him through every single thing, improved his grades making him in the top 50 of the school, engaged him in participating in that model contest and also fulfil the role of being a friend that he can rely on.

When the school year end came, it was also time he hear your request. You couldn't remember much about anything other than what you said, you can't remember how the scenery looked like, what the principal was saying on stage, even the look on his face because after you said it, you left immediately.

"Let's never cross paths ever again in this life, that is my request."

--------------------------

You realized that your cup is now empty just like how the streets are also beginning to be, so you throw the cup into the trash can and walk home.

You wonder back to the times when you were teaching him the subjects, you would sometime catch him staring in an obsessive way at you but you didn't really care back then because your hatred for him was too much but now that you moved on, you wonder why he was staring at you like that.

"He also said something after I left that day but I couldn't hear what it was.." You mumble as you step out of the elevator to your apartment only to be greeted with a door that is not locked at all.

Your movements were hesitant, slowly, you open the door with cautious as you also carefully step inside your home. Right after you had closed the front door, a sudden sting on your neck send you off balance, fall into someone's arms and fainted immediately.

"Come get me at the apartment now." The tall figure said through a bluetooth headphone device on his ears.

Your bully smile down at you with a creepy smile, inhaling your familiar scent as he hug you close and tightly around his arms.

"You can tell me to do anything, give you anything, to die even. Anything but letting you leave."

--------------------------

After they said those words, my world seemed like crashing down on me in seconds.

I guess I have no other choice but to fulfil a different request from them in the future then.

"I shall have you in my arms when we meet again, love."

--------------------------

(ayy pov change :D)

[brownsugarcoffy]

The Vine Between Us (4)

Summary

Annie left the Mississippi Delta with a broken heart and a full-ride scholarship, determined never to look back. Now a celebrated professor in Chicago, she’s called home to care for her mother—and the last thing she expects is to run straight into him.

Elijah "Smoke". Her first love. Her first everything.

He disappeared the summer after graduation, leaving only unanswered calls and a goodbye she never got. Now he's back in town, running a moody, magnetic blues lounge with his twin brother, playing late into the humid Southern nights like he’s pouring his soul out just for her.

Annie wants to hate him. She wants to forget the way he made her feel. But one look from those stormy eyes, and she’s seventeen again—burning, aching, and lost in the man he’s become.

He left without a word. But now? He wants to finish the story they never got to end

Characters: Annie x Elijah " Smoke" Moore (Modern AU)

Themes: Angst, Fluff, Mention of Abuse, Vulgar Language, Sexual content & more...

Chapters: PART(1) , PART (2) , PART (3)

A/N: After this chapter, it is going to all about Smoke & Annie! So get ready, y'all! Lol

NOT EDITED

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The blues rolled thick and syrupy through the Cypress Lounge, wrapping itself around every low laugh and clinking glass like smoke curling through an open window. It was slow, heavy—music that knew sorrow like a last name. Sammie’s guitar wailed from the stage, each note dragging out memories Smoke had tried hard to bury.

He didn’t think. He just moved.

Boots thudded against the old stairs, wood creaking beneath his weight like they remembered him too. Each step sounded like something unresolved. Like unfinished business. Like her.

“Whoa-oh, Smokestack Lightnin’…”

At the top of the landing, he paused.

There she was.

Annie.

Sitting calm, poised, hands folded in her lap, head tilted slightly like she was listening with more than just her ears. The stage light caught the gold in her skin and the soft waves of her hair. She hadn’t seen him yet. Pearline, standing beside her with a dark drink in one hand and cool judgment in the other, glanced over first. Her sharp brows rose a little. Then came the once-over. That was Pearline—her eyes didn’t miss a thing. She sipped slow and smirked, turning back to the music like she already knew how this story might go.

Annie looked next. Her reaction was quiet, but Smoke caught the tension—the way her back straightened just slightly, how her lips parted but no words came out. Her gaze met his and didn’t flinch. But it didn’t invite either.

Smoke cleared his throat. “Mind if I stand here?”

Pearline spoke before Annie could. “Long as you don’t get to preachin’.”

A dry chuckle rolled out of his chest. “No sermons tonight.”

He leaned forward on the railing, just enough to feel Annie’s presence but not invade it. That space mattered. That space had history.

Sammie’s voice filled the room again, low and gravel-edged.

“Tell me baby… what’s the matter now…”

“You were always the one who put Sammie on,” Annie said, her voice low and velvet-thick, like the blues had gotten in her too.

“Yeah. He got a way of tellin’ the truth that don’t hurt till later.”

“You all got a gift,” she murmured, nodding toward the stage. “This place… it’s something special.”

He turned to look at her, not just seeing but studying. “Again. You look beautiful tonight, Annie.”

She didn’t thank him. Didn’t blush. Just held his gaze for a beat, then turned back toward the stage.

“I meant what I said,” he continued. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

Pearline, ever the conductor of good exits, slid off the railing with grace and attitude. “I’mma let y’all talk. I need a refill anyway.”

Neither of them stopped her.

As her heels clicked away, the silence filled in the space she left behind. It wasn’t awkward. It was heavy.

Then Annie whispered, so quiet it almost got lost in the music, “What do you want from me, Elijah?”

His voice was steady. “Another chance. Just one.”

She inhaled slowly, as if choosing her next words could alter the course of everything.

“Elijah… I’m only here for two weeks. My mama needs me. After that, I’m back in Chicago, back to my life. I didn’t come down here to entertain no old feelings or play house. I’m not that girl anymore. And I ain’t lookin’ for some soft talk to sweep me up.”

He smirked. “Good. ‘Cause this grown-ass man don’t do soft talk.”

That pulled the corner of her mouth up, just a little.

“You always hid that slick mouth under all that silence,” she said.

“And you always acted like you ain’t like it,” he teased, inching closer.

She smelled like shea butter and nostalgia, and it damn near brought him to his knees. She had changed—but so had he. His voice dropped low. “Just one date. You still don’t want me after that? I’ll step back. But let me show you the man I am now.”

Annie’s eyes didn’t waver. She looked him over—this new version of Elijah. The broader chest beneath his black button-up, the hard lines in his arms, the calm confidence in his shoulders. The beard was new. The hurt in his eyes wasn’t.

“Alright,” she said finally. “One date. But if you waste my time or show up late—”

“It’s done,” he finished. “I know.”

Before that moment could stretch into something more, Stack’s voice cut through like a record scratch.

“Yo! Smoke!”

He was jogging up the stairs, not noticing the tension he was bulldozing through.

“Smoke, we need you in the kitchen. Inventory’s off. Chef Dee’s raisin’ hell.”

Smoke sighed hard. “Are you serious?”

Stack slowed when he saw them side by side. His eyebrows rose. “Damn. My bad. Didn’t mean to interrupt the reunion special.”

“Stack—shut the hell up. What’s goin’ on?”

“Chef Dee said some items are missin’. We might not have got the whole order. She’s in there countin’ like she mad at math.”

Smoke groaned. “Man, it’s always somethin’. I swear I need a cigarette after this.”

His eyes lingered on Annie, clearly torn.

Stack saw it. “Go on, bruh. I got her. I’ll keep her company.”

Smoke hesitated. “I’ll see you soon, Annie.”

And with that, he disappeared down the hall, muttering something about broken freezers and bad timing.

Annie shook her head, exhaling a laugh. “I don’t need a babysitter, Stack.”

Stack grinned, leaning cool against the railing. “I know. But c’mon now… you know I make for good company.”

Annie crossed her legs slowly, turning toward Stack with an amused smile. “So… how you been, Stack? Still got all the girls in your back pocket?”

He laughed, wide and boyish, showing every tooth. “Aw, you know me—I had to retire from the game. Went out undefeated.”

Annie raised an eyebrow. “Mmhmm. Undefeated or unbothered?”

“Both, baby,” he said, placing a hand on his chest. “You lookin’ at a grown man now. Got my own place, my own bills… hell, even started payin’ ‘em on time.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “So you payin’ bills and tellin’ lies now?”

“Now why you gotta come at me like that?” Stack asked, feigning offense, hand to his heart. “I’m doin’ good, though. For real. Club’s busy, music’s live, and Smoke finally walkin’ ‘round actin’ like he got a heart again. Life’s steady.”

She softened a bit. “I’m glad to hear that. For real.”

Stack gave her a side glance, thoughtful. “And what about you, Miss Chicago? Big city, fancy life, huh?”

Annie sighed. “It’s… fine. Busy. A little cold, not just the weather neither. But it’s home now.”

“Mm,” Stack hummed, his voice dropping low. “You ever think about comin’ back? Down here with us regular folks?”

She looked out over the stage, Sammie now trading licks with the band in a slow jam. “Sometimes. Not often. Too many memories. Too many ghosts.”

Stack nodded slowly, respecting that. “Well, if any of ‘em start botherin’ you, you let me know. I still scare off spirits for a small fee.”

Annie laughed again, warmer this time. “You a damn fool, Stack.”

“I know,” he said with a grin. “But I’m a loyal one.”

They both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that don’t need filling.

Annie glanced at him again, her expression softer now, less teasing. “You know, Stack… I’m proud of you.”

He blinked, surprised. “Proud of me? For what? I ain’t do nothin’ big.”

“Yes, you did,” she said, her voice steady. “You grew up. You took control of your life. That ain’t easy. Especially… with what you came from.”

Stack’s grin faded, his mouth tightening just a little. His eyes didn’t meet hers right away, but when they did, something in them went still.

He knew exactly what she meant.

The shouting. The fists. Their daddy's voice slurred and sharp, always louder on birthdays, always crueler after a bottle.

Smoke always tried to shield him. But the bruises still found their way through. And Annie—Annie had seen more than most. Even back then.

Stack finally nodded. “Yeah… well. That was a long time ago.”

His voice was low, firm, a quiet wall that said: we don’t need to dig there tonight.

Annie respected that. Still, she reached out and touched his arm, just lightly. “Still… I see you, Elias Moore.”

That made him smile again—smaller this time, but real. “Now don’t go callin’ me by my government in public,” he said, voice playful but touched with emotion. “You tryna get me jumped?”

She laughed gently. “Nah. Just reminding you who you are. And how far you’ve come.”

He looked down at her hand still on his arm, then back at her face. “Thanks, Annie. That means more than you know.”

Their eyes held for a moment. Not romantic, not complicated—just two people who knew each other’s wounds, honoring the quiet survival in both.

Then Stack clapped his hands once, breaking the moment. “Now come on. Before you get me cryin’ in here like this a Tyler Perry movie.”

Annie smirked, “You are dramatic.”

“Girl, I’m passionate. There’s a difference.”

They both laughed—easy, full, the kind that settled in your chest like warm cornbread after Sunday service.

Then, for a second, Stack looked at her and remembered how it all began. He’d been just fourteen, hiding in that greenhouse, broken and bleeding from the kind of night that changed boys into ghosts.

She told him she was proud of him tonight.

That was the first time anyone ever said that to him... was her. That night. In the dark. With rosemary in the air and blood on his shirt.

He hadn’t known it then, but something inside him shifted. His love for her, once confused and raw, had grown that night—deepened into something unshakable. Not romantic anymore. Not like it used to be, but fierce, protective. Like family. Even then, even in the middle of his pain, he knew her heart didn’t belong to him. It belonged to Smoke.

It was like yesterday when he remembered how she took care of him and protected him.

The house was dim, nearly swallowed whole by shadows. Only the flickering kitchen light remained, the bulb whining with every surge. It was the kind of night they dreaded all year.

Their mother’s birthday.

And their father was already deep in a bottle, mumbling to himself in the living room recliner with a fifth of whiskey balanced on his chest.

Stack sat on the edge of the couch, back straight, hands folded tight between his knees like he was bracing for a storm. Smoke was by the front window, twisting the last working lightbulb in his fingers, brows furrowed.

“We ain’t got none left,” he muttered. “Kitchen’s next.”

Their father groaned and suddenly barked from the recliner, “You ungrateful boys can sit in the dark for all I care. Damn house should be dark—fittin’ since y’all don’t know what you cost me.”

Smoke didn’t even look at him. He was used to this part.

But Stack flinched

Their father sat up slowly, whiskey sloshing in the bottle, eyes bloodshot. “It should’ve been you, Elias. It should’ve been you that got hit. Not her.”

Stack’s mouth pressed into a line, his head bowing slightly.

“You ran into that street like a damn fool—she died savin’ you. And you walk ‘round like you don’t owe nothin’.”

“Enough,” Smoke snapped, stepping between them. “You drunk. Sit back and shut up.”

“You talk to me like that, boy?”

“I’ll talk how I want. You should be glad I ain’t throwin’ you through the damn wall.”

The old man sneered but didn’t stand. He waved them off like flies. “Go ahead. Run off. Cowards.”

Smoke’s fists balled, but Stack caught his arm.

“Don’t,” he said softly.

That damn loyalty.

Smoke shook his head, breathing hard. “We need light bulbs. I’ll go get some.”

“I can come,” Stack said quickly.

“No,” Smoke said, looking at him. “Stay here. He won’t touch you if you don’t talk back.”

Stack said nothing.

Smoke grabbed his hoodie and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Later That Night

The house was silent except for the ticking clock and the murmured curses from the living room. The kitchen light finally died. The whole house was dark.

Stack stood in the hallway, shadows stretching tall around him. He turned toward the living room, hoping maybe his father had passed out.

He hadn’t.

“Thought I told you to sit your ass down,” the slurred voice growled.

“I’m just going to the bathroom,” Stack said quietly.

“You think I’m stupid?”

Stack didn’t respond fast enough. His father rose unsteadily to his feet.

“You don’t get to act like nothin’ happened. Like she didn’t die because of you.”

“I was a baby,” Stack whispered.

“Don’t matter. You killed her. You—”

His father’s hand came fast.

It landed across Stack’s cheek with a loud crack.

Stack stumbled, caught himself on the wall, but didn’t raise his hands to defend.

The second blow hit harder. The third knocked him to the ground.

He ran until his lungs burned, vision blurred from tears and pain. His feet carried him without thinking—past the gas station, past the church, all the way across town.

To the one place that ever felt safe.

The greenhouse.

He climbed inside through the back panel like he used to when they were kids. Collapsing in the farthest corner, he let the darkness wrap around him, his body sore and broken.

No one knew he was there.

Not until Annie walked in wearing a soft blue nightgown, barefoot, looking for rosemary to make oil for her hair. She heard the rustle and reached for the small gardening shovel on the bench, heart pounding.

But as she stepped closer, her breath caught.

“Stack?”

He looked up, bruised and bloodied, face buried in his arms. The confident, sly boy was gone. Just a scared, hurting kid in the moonlight.

“Who did this to you?” she whispered, kneeling beside him.

He didn’t answer. She moved closer.

“I’m going to get my mama,” she said, voice trembling.

“No!” he reached out and grabbed her wrist, eyes wide and desperate. “No. Nobody can know. Please. Don’t tell nobody, Annie.”

His voice cracked. Annie looked down at his hand on her wrist, then into his face—sweat, dirt, dried blood, and tears. She nodded, gently pulling away.

“Alright,” she whispered. “But we gotta get you cleaned up.”

She left and returned with rags, water, peroxide, ointment, and a fresh towel. She didn’t speak as she gently dabbed his cuts, her hand tender but firm.

“You’re shaking,” she said softly.

“I’m not,” he mumbled, clearly lying.

“You are,” she insisted. “Stack… you shouldn’t have to go through this.”

He stayed quiet, jaw clenched. She reached up and pressed a warm cloth to a cut above his brow.

“You wanna tell me what happened?”

Still nothing. Just silence.

“Elijah is probably worried about you. He's probably out looking for you right now. You should’ve waited for him.”

“I couldn’t,” he said finally. “If he saw it… he would’ve tried to kill him.”

Annie stilled. “Your daddy?”

Stack nodded. “He was drunk… again. Mama’s birthday. He always… he always gets mean on her birthday.”

Annie sighed, heart heavy. “You and Elijah shouldn’t have to be responsible for his pain. It ain’t fair.”

“I was the reason she died,” he whispered. “That’s what he tells me. I ran into the street. She saved me. Took the hit. I killed her.”

“That’s not true,” Annie said quickly, her voice firm now. “You were a baby, Elias. You didn’t kill your mama. She saved you because she loved you.”

“Still cost her her life,” he muttered. “I’ve been a mistake since day one.”

“Don’t say that,” she snapped, more harshly than she intended. Then, quieter, “You matter. You hear me? I don’t care what anybody says—you matter.”

He finally looked at her then, eyes glassy. “Why you being so nice to me?”

She blinked. “Because I care about you.”

“I ain’t worth caring about.”

“That’s a lie. And don’t make me slap it out your mouth.”

That made him snort, and she smiled a little. “There he is. That’s the Stack I know. All that slick talking and grinning like he ain't never seen trouble a day in his life.”

Stack looked at her for a long beat...and then he kissed her.

She froze. Quickly pulling back.

“What are you doing?!” she hissed.

He looked stunned and ashamed. “I’m sorry, Annie. I didn’t mean to—I just—”

“I’m your brother’s girlfriend,” she snapped. “You can’t do things like that. Have some respect.”

He flinched. “I do. I do respect y’all. I’m sorry… I’m such a fuck-up. Smoke’s gonna hate me.”

She could see the panic rising in him, the regret already drowning him. His hands trembled, and his eyes filled with tears he was too proud to shed.

“Elijah’s not going to hate you, Stack,” she said quietly. “Because I’m not going to tell him. This never happened. Okay?”

He looked at her, confused.

“You were vulnerable. And Stack… there are other ways to be vulnerable. Everything doesn’t have to be physical. Talking it out is one of them.” He nodded, head low, breathing ragged.

She picked up the supplies she brought and paused at the doorway of the greenhouse.

“You don’t have to go back tonight… not if you don’t want to,” she said softly.

“Get some rest.”

She turned slightly, eyes lingering on him once more.

“Goodnight, Elias.”

Then she was gone. And Stack sat alone in the rosemary-scented dark, the silence pressing against his chest like a second skin.

The memory slipped away, dissolving into the low hum of music and chatter rising from below. Stack blinked back into the present, the warm lamplight casting soft shadows over the lounge’s upstairs balcony. He glanced at Annie, her laugh still soft in the air between them, her presence just as calming now as it had been back then.

That night in the greenhouse… it never left him. He was fourteen. Scared. Hurt. And she—barefoot in a nightgown, whispering kind things in the dark—had been his lifeline.

He cleared his throat. “You know… besides my brother, you were the only one who ever believed I could be more.”

Annie tilted her head. “That’s because you could. And you did.”

He smiled faintly. “You were like my spiritual guide.”

She reached over and lightly touched his hand. “You made it hard not to be.”

Just then, Pearline was strunting back upstairs with her belongings in her hand. “Hey y’all.” she said with a knowing grin. “Annie, I’m about to head out. You ridin’ with me?”

Annie pulled out her phone and checked the time, her eyes widening. “Lord, it’s almost 1:30?” She stood, grabbing her purse. “I drove myself. Mama don’t sleep well when I’m out this late, and I’d rather she not worry about drivin’ on these backroads.”

Stack stood with her, lingering close. “You sure you gotta head out now?”

“I do,” she said softly, “but I’m glad I stayed this long.”

He smirked. “So what do I tell Smoke?”

Annie rolled her eyes playfully as she slung her purse over her shoulder. “Tell Elijah I’ll see him tomorrow—and he better pick me up by 6:00 p.m. No later. Or he’s done.”

Stack laughed. “I told you—nobody can resist a Moore man.”

Annie playfully pushed his arm. “Don’t make me slap you, Stack. Goodnight!”

“Goodnight, Annie.”

He watched as she and Pearline made their way through the crowd below, laughter trailing behind them.

The night air wrapped around them like molasses—thick, warm, and humming with leftover music from the lounge behind them. Crickets sang in the ditches nearby, and a few porch lights flickered in the distance, casting hazy glows over the gravel parking lot.

Annie walked with her heels in one hand and her keys in the other, the cool gravel pressing into the soles of her feet. Pearline strolled beside her, bouncing with every step and her sequined jacket catching every ounce of moonlight like she’d planned the whole sky to show out just for her.

“Tonight was fun!” Pearline beamed, swinging her purse over her shoulder. “Aren’t you glad you came out? Look at God.”

Annie cracked a soft smile. “Yeah... it was fun.”

Pearline stopped just short of her car and turned, arms crossed, one brow arched high like a detective sniffing out gossip. “Uh huh. So what’s this about Smoke pickin’ you up at 6:00 p.m. tomorrow? I heard you tell Stack like it was a royal decree.”

Annie sighed, that heavy kind of sigh only your best friend could decode.

“Oh no,” Pearline said, eyes lighting up. “Ooooooh. Tell me the tea! What happened while I was gone? Y’all kiss?”

Annie burst into laughter, her voice echoing softly across the lot. “Girl! No, we didn’t kiss. What kinda fantasy do you think this is?”

“I mean,” Pearline smirked, unlocking her car with a dramatic click, “you tell me.”

Annie leaned against her car door, the metal warm beneath her palm. “He asked if he could get another chance. Said—” she paused, her voice dropping just enough to hint at the truth underneath, “—said if I give him one date, just one, and I don’t feel anything... he’ll leave me be. For good.”

Pearline’s lips parted in a faux gasp. “Aww shit! So what you gon’ do, Annie? You ready to fall like a lawn chair?”

Annie gawked. “Pearline! Have some type of faith in me!”

Pearline pointed at her with a long, glitter-tipped nail. “Annie. Girl. I don’t know. You walked in that lounge talkin’ 'bout you weren’t checkin’ for him. Now look at you, about to be this close, doing the walk of shame!”

Annie groaned, fighting back a grin. “You are the absolute worst.”

“I’m the realest, and you know it.” Pearline clicked her tongue, then leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “Truth be told… I knew he had you the moment he asked you to dance. You were halfway gone when he said your name, and completely gone when he touched your back.”

Annie raised an eyebrow. “Whose side are you even on?”

“I’m on your side,” Pearline said, unlocking her car door and sliding inside. “But that man tonight looked like he’d do anything—and I mean anything—to hold you again. That ain’t just love, baby. That’s repentance.”

Annie stood for a second longer, her heart doing little somersaults behind her ribs.

Pearline rolled down her window and shouted, “Don’t act brand new tomorrow, Annie! Put on somethin’ cute and don’t be twenty minutes late like you always are.”

“I said I would think about it!” Annie spoke, knowing that's a lie.

“ Stop it! You already said yes, and you already know what you wearin’. Goodnight, girl!”

Annie shook her head, laughing as she unlocked her car.

Pearline’s engine revved to life, her music blasting as she peeled out of the lot with a dramatic wave.

Annie slid into her seat, tossed her heels into the passenger side, and sat for a moment with her hands on the wheel.

One date.

And if she felt nothing?

Then that would be the end.

But tonight, her heart wasn’t exactly feeling nothing.

The bass of the music had dimmed now, slipping into a slow jam groove as the crowd upstairs began to thin. The once-booming lounge had quieted into soft laughter and the occasional clink of glassware.

Stack pushed open the swinging double doors to the kitchen, the scent of fried catfish and peppery gumbo still clinging to the air like perfume. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a pale glow across the tiled floor and steel countertops.

Smoke stood at the prep table with a half-open box of dry goods, a clipboard in one hand and a red pen between his teeth. His dress shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing the snake tattoo winding around his forearm. He looked up when Stack entered, chewing the pen cap slowly like he was chewing on more than ink.

“Well,” Stack said, arms folded, leaning against the doorframe. “You find the ghost that’s been eatin’ up our stock?”

Smoke sighed and yanked the pen from his mouth. “Man, I done counted this rice twice and we still two cases short. That delivery boy either skimming or somebody out here got sticky fingers.”

Stack stepped in, letting the door swing shut behind him. “We need cameras in the back room. I said that last month.”

“You said that last year,” Smoke muttered, scribbling something on the inventory sheet.

Stack opened the walk-in cooler and peeked inside. “You cross-check with the invoices?”

“Three times. The math don’t math.”

Stack shut the cooler with a dull thud. “Then we short. Ain’t no mystery to it.”

Smoke looked up, narrowing his eyes. “Why you come back here? Ain’t like you to get this deep in the numbers unless it’s payday.”

Stack shrugged, then picked up an apple from the bowl near the sink and tossed it in his hand. “Annie left.”

“Yeah?” Smoke didn’t look up, but his pen paused mid-stroke.

“Pearline came back. Told her she was headin’ out. Annie checked her phone—near bout 1:30. Said she had to go 'cause she drove herself and didn’t want her mama worrying about her being out late on these dark roads.”

Smoke gave a slow nod. “Yeah... her mama still don’t like drivin’ at night since the accident. Makes sense.”

Stack tossed the apple up and caught it again, staring at his brother. “She said to tell you she’ll see you tomorrow. And if you ain’t pickin’ her up by six sharp... you done.”

That got a real smile outta Smoke—one of those rare ones that softened his whole face and made him look fourteen again, barefoot on the front porch with Annie sittin’ beside him, shelling peas.

“She said that?” he asked, grinning now.

“Word for word. She even put some bite on it.”

Smoke laughed, tossing the clipboard on the table and rubbing his jaw. “Damn. Six p.m. sharp. You hear that, universe?”

“She still believes in you,” Stack said casually, biting into the apple. “Always did.”

Smoke’s smile wavered just a little.

Stack added, “Other than me, she’s probably the only one who ever did. You lucky.”

Smoke nodded. “I know.”

The kitchen fell quiet again—just the hum of the fridge, the crackle of oil still cooling in the fryer, and the weight of the night hanging in the air like humidity before a storm.

Stack leaned against the prep table, crunching loudly into an apple and eyeing his twin like he was sizing up a questionable haircut.

“So,” he said, wiping juice from his mouth with the back of his hand, “what you plannin’ on wearin’ tomorrow night to seduce your woman back? And don’t say that old man hoodie, Smoke. I swear if you show up in that tired getup, she gon’ think you Uber Eats.”

Smoke looked up from the clipboard, already sighing. “What I wear ain’t got nothin’ to do with it. Annie ain’t shallow.”

“No,” Stack agreed. “But she do got eyes.”

Smoke threw a towel at him. “You act like you Mr. GQ or somethin’. You dress like a damn disco ball. Got rhinestones on your teeth talkin’ ‘bout fashion.”

Stack pointed proudly at his clean boots. “It’s called style, sir. Presentation matters. You can’t win a woman back lookin’ like somebody’s tired uncle.”

“You look like somebody’s sidepiece with a clothing allowance,” Smoke shot back, grinning now. “All them bright colors—man, you more flashy than a Fourth of July finale.”

Stack clutched his chest in mock offense. “You just mad ‘cause you still got bootcut jeans from 2009.”

“I like comfort,” Smoke defended. “Real grown man fits. Not whatever glittery mess you got goin’ on. You be dressin’ like you late for a Prince tribute concert.”

“And you be dressin’ like you early for a nap!” Stack snapped, laughing. “Look, I’m just sayin’—you get one chance to remind her why she loved you. Don’t blow it by lookin’ like the ‘before’ photo.”

Smoke shook his head, defeated. “What you want me to wear then? A velvet blazer with no shirt like you?”

Stack grinned. “Only if you tryna make her crash the car. But nah—we’ll find you somethin’ smooth. Grown and sexy, not grown and sleepy.”

“You somethin’ else,” Smoke muttered, but the smile tugging at his lips was clear.

Stack tossed his apple core in the trash. “Tomorrow. Early. We hittin’ the shops. My future sister-in-law needs a man that knows his fits.”

Smoke shook his head. “She fallin’ for me, not my outfit.”

“Yeah, and I’m just here to make sure she don’t mistake you for a retired preacher in the process.”

Smoke laughed, giving his brother a shove as he passed. “Boy, get out my kitchen.”

Stack winked. “Only if you promise no more ‘Dad jeans.”

Once Stack left the kitchen, whistling one of his flashy little tunes and promising to “save Smoke from himself,” the laughter faded behind him like the last note of a song. Smoke leaned forward over the prep table, resting his hands flat against the cool stainless steel. For a long minute, he just stood there, letting the quiet settle in around him.

Annie.

Her name alone stirred something in his chest—an ache, sure, but a hopeful one this time. Like the first deep breath after a long storm. It had been so long since he’d seen her laugh like that. Since he’d felt her hand in his, soft and certain, like maybe—for a fleeting second—time hadn't done all the damage he thought it had.

He closed his eyes.

He could still feel the way she leaned into him when they danced, still hear the smile in her voice when she said, “I’ll give you one date.” One. That’s all he got. One shot to prove that what they had wasn’t buried in the past, but just… waiting. Waiting for him to be the man she deserved the first time.

He’d been young and reckless. Hot-headed. Holding on to too much pride and not enough patience. But he wasn’t that boy anymore.

And she wasn’t that same girl, either.

Annie had grown into a woman who knew her worth. A woman who wouldn’t waste her time where she wasn’t valued. That’s what scared him. And what made him want her even more.

Don’t mess this up, he told himself. Don’t let her down again.

He took a deep breath, running a hand over his face, then reached for the clipboard. But it just blurred in his vision. All he could think about was tomorrow night.

The way her eyes lit up when she teased him.

The way she looked walking through that crowd like the room parted just for her.

The way she said his name like she hadn’t stopped thinking about him either.

He wasn’t going to play it cool. He wasn’t going to act unbothered. Not this time.

He was going to show up.

He was going to show out.

And he was going to make damn sure Annie remembered exactly why her heart once beat for Elijah “Smoke” Moore.

Because this time, he wasn’t just trying to win her back.

He was trying to win her forever.

TAGLIST:

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @uzumaki-rebellion @brattyfics @chrisevansmentee @margepimpson @blaqgirlmagicyallcantstandit @bigjh @est1887 @thegreatlibraryofalex @127hydrangeas @tadjoa @thickmadame @chixkencxrry @jackierose902109 @carmilladias @rolemodelshit @lilblckraincloud @thesmutconnoisseur @hotebonynearby @lizbehave @fadingbelieverexpert @samiecemonet-blog @nebulamilkyway @shamansha @soufcakmistress @diamondsinterlude @sarcastic-sunshines @blaqgirlmagicyallcantstandit @hotcommodityyy @coolfoodrunworld-blog @thefutureemmywinner @childishgambinaax

[medievalharlot]

High Endeavours 彡 Daniel Markowitz X F!reader

Pairing: Daniel Markowitz x smart f!reader

Synopsis: The two of you get high and Danny ends up venting to you while you ride him

Wordcount: 2,7K

Tags: Smut 18+ minors dni, fluff, Danny has a praise kink, cowgirl, p in v sex, reader has been kind of a shit friend, intoxicated sex, sex with protection (wrap your willy kids)

A/N: Fic number two! There is way too litle Daniel content on this platform. Please enjoy!

He was glad to have you back home again. It had been hard for him having you away at college while he was stuck at home. He had no job, no papers and nothing to do without you here. Ever since the two of you met in highschool, you had always been the smart one. It was no wonder you went to college. You were always the one passing tests without studying too hard, the one that was always on top of her game. It was why you met in the first place. Daniel was failing algebra hard, not once had he passed a test, until the teacher had asked you to tutor him. The hour of tutoring after school turned into late nights at the library and getting kicked out by the librarian for staying too long. You helped him pass algebra and in return you got a life long friend. Late nights at the library turned into hangouts that turned into sleepovers. The two of you were like two pea’s in a pod.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t proud of you, he was extremely proud of you. His best friend, you, majoring in neuroscience. Every time you told him about a class you passed, or a research proposal that got approved he cheered with you. It had just been a little hard not having you near the last few weeks. Allie basically broke up with him, his grandma went missing for a day and he felt like a complete failure. Daniel needed you more than ever but you were busy with school. He would never blame you for not having enough time to reply to his texts or pick up when he called. You both lived seperate lives now, he had seen the Instagram stories with your new friends. It stung a little, but it was fine, he was fine. You were here now, even it was for a few days.

“Thanks for picking me up Danny.” You dragged your suitcase over the doorstep to your childhood home. It was just like how you remembered. The photo’s were still arranged the exact same way, a sense of familiarity in the mess that was in the living room. After months of studying, writing and reading it was good to be back. It was even better to see Daniel. You felt guilty for not being there for him and you had missed him terribly.

“It’s fine Y/N. It is good to have you back, this town isn’t the same without you.” He smiled and sounded genuinely happy. Clumsily he helped you drag your other bags inside. Both your parents happened to be on vacation while you were back home, a miscommunication that had you ranting to Daniel for hours. Daniel was secretly quite glad about this arrangement, it ment he could stay at your house the entire two weeks you were home. You never turned him down when he asked to sleep over, you wouldn’t this time either.

“You sound just like a cowboy.” You chuckled softly. “Only instead of the town not being big enough for both of us, the town is big enough for both us.” With an exhausted sigh you sat down on the couch. “Do you mind staying tonight? It feels weird being in a house this big alone.” It was like you read his mind. He joined you on the couch, as soon as he did you leaned your head against his shoulder. Being around him felt good, it felt comfortable and right.

“Yeah sure, only because you asked nicely.” He teases. If he was honest he would walk on thumbthacks for you if you asked him nicely. It was something that had always annoyed Allie. Often the two of them would fight about how Daniel was always talking about you. He knew she was right and that his friendship with you was different than with his other female friends, he just couldn’t help himself.

“Is your grandma okay? I mean from what you told me she went on quite a journey.” You lifted your head from his shoulder to look at him.

“Yeah she is fine. I think it was actually good for her in a weird way.” He chuckled and shook his head. “This guy Ben, you remember Ben right, she has been hanging out with him a lot. ” He told you.

“I am glad she is alright. Would be a waste to see that sassy old lady go so soon.” You looked a him and got up. “Come on, let's get these upstairs.” Softly, you kicked the suitcases on the floor.

Your bedroom was exactly how you left it. All your trophies lined up, degrees on the wall and of course, your photos with Daniel. For a moment you just stood there, so many memories. You had grown out of this version of you. When did that happen?

Daniel quickly burst you out of your thought bubble by placing his hand on your shoulder. “Getting sentimental now, Y/N.” His eyes found yours, a teasing look in them.

“Oh shut up.” You playfully gave him a push. “It’s weird. For years this was my bedroom, now I just feel like a guest.” You lifted one of your suitcases on the bed to open it. “This is going to take forever to unpack.” Sifting through your clothes you realised just how many pairs of socks you brought.

“Did you pack for a trip to Mount Everest or something.” He watched over your shoulder. “And who needs that many socks.”

“Obviously, I do. You never know when the sockthief might strike.” You laughed as you placed your laptop on your desk. “I need to finish his proposal. Do you mind waiting?”

It stung, but he wouldn't tell you that. Of course you were busy with school, when weren't you? “Yeah sure.” His voice betrayed his dissapointment.

“I swear once I am done I have surprise for you Daniel.” You smirked as you grabbed your laptop and placed it on your desk.

“Really now? Thats a deal.” He fell down on your bed.

Daniel had nothing to do but scroll on his phone while you were busy typing away. With no job or school most of his afternoon's were spend like this. In bed, doomscrolling. He ended up Allie's Instagram, she seemed so happy. With a sigh he looked at the photos. You had taken notice and grabbed his phone.

“Hey!” He shot up to take back his phone.

“Stop looking at her page. This way you’re never getting over her Danny.” You close Instagram and throw his phone back on the bed.

“We didn’t break up, we’re just on a break.” He corrected you. Allie had been there for him while you were away, filling the hole you left behind in his life.

“You need to get your mind off it.” You stood up from the chair, closing your laptop. Finally, you were finished. “I have just the thing to help you with that.” With a grin you walk to one of your many bags, digging through some stuff until you pulled out a little tube. It had a joint inside. Danny didn't know you smoked? What did they do to you at that school?

“You smoke?” He asked you with a tone that made it seem like he didn’t believe you. You were a good girl, never stepped out of line.

“No, of course not!” You said defensively. Just because you didn’t like breaking rules didn’t mean you didn’t like to let loose sometimes. Slowly you got closer to him. “I just.. thought it would be fun to try with you?” You titled your head, a playful half-smile on your face. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Danny hesitated for a moment. He had smoked weed before, but that was a few years ago. The problem was that he always spoke his mind when he was intoxicated and spilling his guts to you on the first day didn’t sound that smart to him. He watched you plop down next to him while you were still holding the joint. “Alright.” He gave in, he was never one to deny you.

A few minutes later the two of you were sitting on the old leather couch in the basement. You feared that the smell would stay in your room if you smoked the joint upstairs and you knew for a fact that your parents would kill you if they found out. With your leg tucked under you and your body facing Daniel. The joint was pressed between your lips as he lit it for you. You took a deep inhale and as soon as the smoke hit your lungs you started coughing. A silent ‘oh fuck’ left your lips as you passed it to him.

“Oh so you weren’t lying about never having done this before.” Daniel teased you before also taking a hit. He did it with a little more grace than you, the smoke leaving his mouth as he tilted his head back.

“You look like a dragon when you do that.” You laugh as you snatch the joint back. With a lot less coughing you took another hit, and then another and another. Before you could take a fourth he took it out of your hands.

“Quit hogging it, you’re gonna get sick like that.”

The joint lasted quite a few rounds and both of you were now plastered on the couch. The saying ‘as high as a kite’ suddenly made sense to you. With heavy eyes you looked at Daniel. Sweet Daniel. He had always been kind to you. You still remember the first time you met him. His stupid grin had dethawded your cold behaviour towards him within the first tutoring session. You missed this, missed him. You hadn’t been a good friend the last few months, you knew that, but you hoped these few weeks would make it up to him. Oh sweet Daniel. Your hand had found it’s way to his thigh as you softly brushed your thumb against him. It wasn’t your intention for it to be a sexual gesture, you enjoyed touching people when you were intoxicated. For you it was nice way to feel connected. But the longer your hand lingered on his thigh, the hotter your skin felt.

Daniel knew that you enjoyed having contact. He knew that very well. It didn’t stop his dick from getting hard from the soft and gentle movement of your fingers. The weed had removed all filters in his mind so he just blurted out. “You’re gonna give me boner if you keep doing that.”

It took a few seconds before the words hit you. “Sorry, this weed has me horny ‘n shit.” You lifted your hand to rub your eyes. He watched you silently. Really, he tried to have some self control but your words had effect on him. Deep down he knew he two of you had always been more than just friends, Allie was just a distraction because he knew he wanted you. But being with you felt like tying you down with him. With no degrees or job he would just be a bother. He would hold you back when all hewanted was to see you soar. In the fog of his high, his lips found yours. And to his surprise you kissed him back.

It was a slow and sloppy kiss. You crawled onto his lap as your hands we’re already trying to take of your shirt. The dial went from 0 to a 100 quickly. Never being one to take things slow you were half naked grinding down on his hard-on. One of his hands was on your shoulder brushing away your hair, the other groping a boob. You reached for the waistband of his sweatpants. The thought of having sex with Danny had been on your mind a few times, more times than you liked to admit, but you never thought you would end up actually fucking him.

“You sure ‘bout this.” Your lips were on his neck as you slurred your words.

Daniel couldn't think straight. “Yes.. yes please just..” He squinted his eyes shut as you pulled his dick out. More words than that weren’t needed. You gave him a few pumps before looking at him.

“Condom.” You muttered suddenly, getting off his lap to desperately search for one. He sat there. His legs slightly spread, breathless, his boner on full display and mind clouded from the weed. Once you found one you climbed back onto his lap. You ripped it open with your teeth and slowly rolled it onto him. Without waiting another second you lowered your wet pussy onto him, feeling him deep inside you and fulling you up so nicely. It had been a while since you had a good fuck.

Daniel groaned, god you clenched so thightly around him. It felt like his head was going to explode. His hands found it’s way to your hips and held them as you slowly rocked. “Missed you so much..” He mumbled softly against your neck. After months you were finally here again.

You pressed your lips against his once more. The pace was sloppy, the sex was messy. Lewd sounds filled the basement. In his haze Daniel started to ramble. “Everything has just been so hard without you. I am such a failure and you’re so..” He panted as you nibbled his earlobe. “So great.” He groaned.

“Hey Daniel?” You paused for a moment and smiled. “Shut the fuck up okay?” With a swift moment you pushed him down on the couch as you sat up straight, the leather was cold against his skin.

“You’re such an amazing person.” While saying the words you could feel him twitching inside you. Is this what he was into? You leaned forward and pulled his shirt up to his chest, planting kisses on his stomach. “And you’re so talented and funny.” A whine left his mouth as he curled his hands gently in your hair. “And so loving and kind.” It didn’t surprise you that he had a praise kink and you were happy to give into his desires.

You straightened your back again and lead his hand to your breast again. His touch tingled against your skin, you should definitely have more sex while high. With another thrust of your hips you threw your head back. The sight alone had Daniel nearly bursting. “Fuck.. I’m gonna cum.”

“I know. ” You threw you head forward and with half-lidded eyes you stared down at him. He couldn’t stop himself from spilling all inside the condom from the sheer confidence you said those words with. Damn you truely were perfect. With a loud groan he came and sent you over the edge as well. Your orgasm hit you like a brick wall making you almost collapse forward.

You laid on his chest for a moment, just catching you breath in silence. His arm wrapped around you, holding you close. The only sound was the two of you panting.

“I meant what I said Daniel.” Eventually you break the silence. You wanted him to know you cared. “I am sorry I haven’t been as present in your life as I should be.”

Daniel was certainly surprised. “Hey it’s okay, you’re here now aren’t you?” He gave your arm a squeeze. “Maybe I should drive to your dorm every once in a while too.”

“You’d do that for me?” You turn to look him in the eye. The smile that you loved so much greeted you back.

“Of course. When have I ever told you no.” He chuckled. You laid back again. Laying there with him felt right. This is what you wanted, who you wanted. It had always been him but you were just to busy to wrap your head around that. So smart and yet still so dumb.

“I do need your help with a favor tho.”

“With what?”

“Do you know how to get your ID replaced?”

[mytaegiheart]

Dirty Thoughts: A Dirty Shorts Fic

Kim Namjoon x Female Reader

Rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

Prompt: “How am I supposed to concentrate when I am having the most unholy scenarios about you and me in my head?”

Author Note: Poll results from last week said Jungkook would be the next one in the series. Boy were you wrong! LOL!

Story notes: You and Namjoon have been married for 6 years, and to keep your relationship spicy, you like to send him naughty pics via text message that end up distracting him from working and causing him no end of embarrassment to his bandmates.

When Yoongi entered 'Rkive', it was to see his long-time friend and bandmate staring off into space as he sat at his control board.

“Oh not again!” he chuckled to himself as he closed the door. “Nam!” he called out, trying not to startle the man.

Namjoon blinked twice before looking up at his friend. He cleared his throat, his cheeks tinting pink and Yoongi knew what, or rather who, had been on his friend's mind. “Oh! Hey! How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to see you thinking about your wife again. What did she send this time?” Yoongi wondered, sitting in one of the empty chairs next to him.

Yoongi (all of the boys really) absolutely adored the woman that had captured his leader and best friend's heart. It was an accidental meeting (Namjoon had been out riding his bike, got distracted by a duck in a pond and nearly ran the poor woman over. If she hadn't jumped out of the way, falling into the pond, she would have been hit with his bike. He was completely embarrassed as he helped her out of the pond, apologizing over and over again as she wrung out her soaked clothing. She waved him off, giggling and the moment their eyes met, it was love at first sight) that turned into something long-term and on a sunny day, 3 years later, in front of the same pond they'd met at, they got married. Married now for nearly 6 years, she still found ways to embarrass her husband, and one of her favorites was sending her husband selfies. Not tame ones either – ones that made him question everything about life and caused him no amounts of embarrassment if he was out in public with his friends and popped a boner after looking at the pics.

If anything, his question made Namjoon's cheeks even redder and he couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from his throat. “That good, huh?”

“You don't understand, man! That woman can make angels want to commit sins!” Namjoon burst out, making Yoongi laugh loudly.

“And you married her.” Yoongi reminded him.

“Well I couldn't let anyone else get their grubby hands on her! I saw her first!”

Yoongi wondered if he had channeled Jimin for a minute, he was laughing so hard he nearly fell out of the chair. Namjoon sounded like a pouty 5 year old.

“So why are you here, and not at home asserting dominance over your fiefdom?” Yoongi smirked. Namjoon gave him a dirty look.

“Did you just really say 'fiefdom'? Dude.” Namjoon shook his head. “Besides, we have work to do.”

“Work that can wait until later.” Yoongi assured him. “Go home. Be with your wife. You know you want to.”

“...I kind of do.” Namjoon looked down, cheeks and ears red.

“So why are you still here?”

“The music guides-”

“I can call Jungkook.”

“And the ad-libs need-”

“Jimin's free.”

“But the ra-”

“Hobi's down the hall in his studio.”

“But-”

“Jin and Tae are downstairs in the practice room. Go home, Joonie. We got this covered.” Yoongi chuckled, patting his friend on the leg.

“You s-”

“Kim Nam-joon! Go home!” Yoongi laughed, grabbing his friend by the arm and dragging him out of the studio, Namjoon grabbing his bag and jacket before they could be left behind.

“Fine!” Namjoon sighed as he slipped on his jacket, grabbing his bike from beside the door to the studio. “Don't call me unless it's an emergency!” he yelled as he headed for the elevators.

“We won't!” Yoongi yelled back with a chuckle.

The elevator doors closed as Hobi poked his head out of 'Hope World'. “The wife?”

“Yep.” Yoongi chuckled, moving to the door of 'Genius Lab'. Hobi just shook his head with a laugh, going back inside his own studio.

Namjoon entered his apartment to the smells of delicious food. “Y/n, I'm home!” he called out.

“You're home early! I'm in the kitchen!” you returned as he hung up his coat and bag. He followed the smells to the kitchen and found you at the stove, dishing out a soup into some bowls. You looked up and smiled at him. “Why are you home so early? I thought you were going to be a few hours?”

“Yoongi kicked me out.” he shrugged, moving to stand behind you.

“Why would he do that?” you frowned, looking at him over your shoulder.

“Because he caught me staring off into space again.” Namjoon replied, pressing against your back. You hid a smirk, now knowing the reason why he was home early.

“You were thinking about that photo I sent this morning.” you told him, making it a statement and not a question.

“What do you think?” he replied, leaning down to press a kiss to the exposed skin of your neck. You hummed in thought as you moved out of his embrace to take the empty pot to the sink. You could have sworn you heard him growl.

“I think you need to get your head out of the clouds.” you chuckled as you washed the pot, setting it in the strainer to dry. You felt his body heat at your back again, this time his hands resting on your hips as he pressed his nose into your hair.

“How am I supposed to concentrate when I am having the most unholy scenarios about you and me in my head?” he whisper-growled against your ear, making goosebumps break out along your arms. “Especially when you keep sending me those pictures!”

“Well... just keeping you interested.” you smirked, giving him a side eye. You found yourself spun around and pinned to the counter at your back, his lips inches from your own making your pulse rate spike.

“I'm always interested, love.” he stated, his tone dropping an octave and making desire slowly curl in your stomach.

“Yeah?” you whispered, voice shaky and he smirked hearing it.

“The things I want to do to you right now on this counter...”

You couldn't help it – you moaned, the sound seeming to come from the back of your throat. It was rare when Namjoon became so dominant and it turned you on completely.

“Namj-” you started to say but he cut you off, his lips sliding over yours in a sensual kiss that made your toes curl and your hair stand on end. You reached out to touch his chest but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them behind your back with his larger hand. You gasped in surprise and desire.

“No touching!” he growled.

“Yes, sir!” you agreed almost immediately.

Using his free hand, he slowly unbuttoned the shirt you had put on that morning, realizing it was one of his. He loved it when you wore his clothes and if he wasn't already hard before, he definitely was now. You wore nothing beneath it, reminding him of the photo you had sent him that morning; you wearing this exact shirt while laying in bed, the fabric barely covering you.

“You drive me crazy, do you know?” he whispered, leaning in to press a warm kiss to your sternum.

“A girl has to have goals in life, Joonie.” you replied, shivering against his touch.

“And yours is to make me insane with lust?” he glanced up at you, arching an eyebrow and hollowing his cheeks, a look that never failed to make you wet.

“Yes.” you answered honestly, staring him directly in the eye. He just gave you that look again. You waited to see what his next move would be and he surprised you by wrapping his hands around your waist and hoisting you up onto the counter. You gasped in surprise and desire. “Joon!”

He smirked at you, getting to his knees and pulling your legs over his shoulders. Before you could complain, his face was between your legs, his tongue dancing along your wet folds and you cried out in shock. “Fuck!” you shouted, your head falling back between your shoulders as he ate you like a man starved.

He groaned at your taste, something he could never get tired of and hearing your moans above him meant he knew he was doing it right. He pushed in deeper, the moan you released the filthiest moan he'd ever heard come from your lips and he smirked internally.

Your fingers slid into his hair, grabbing tightly and pulling hard, causing his tongue to move faster. He released a hand from your thigh, his thumb pressing against your clit and rubbing hard. You started to swear most colorfully, making him grin. He loved reducing you to a babbling wreck whenever he had the chance.

Your thighs started to shake, the coil of desire in your stomach tightening by the second. You were so close.

He felt the tremors in your legs and used the other hand to slip two fingers inside of you, replacing his tongue, moving the wet muscle to your clit and making circular motions. “Oh my god! J-Joonie!” you nearly screamed, falling backwards on top of the counter. The wet sounds his fingers made sliding in and out of you were loud, the acoustics of the kitchen making it echo.

The coil snapped and your back arched as your orgasm blasted through you. You soaked his face, the counter, the floor and the front of his shirt as your thighs snapped closed around his head. He ignored it, continuing to wring every bit of pleasure out of you he could get.

Exhausted and spent, your legs finally relaxed, dropping heavily to his shoulders as you struggled to catch your breath.

He removed your legs from his shoulders, leaving you laying on the counter as he gained his feet, quickly stripping out of his clothes. Once naked, he grabbed your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the counter before sliding his hard cock inside of you in one thrust. You gasped loudly in pleasure as his large hands gripped your hips and he started thrusting hard.

“Fuck, you feel amazing!” he groaned as you wrapped your legs around his back, keeping him close.

“J-Joon!” you babbled out, so wrecked by your husband you were punch drunk, eyes rolling behind tightly closed lids. He did not let up, didn't pause for a break, chasing his pleasure as well as giving you more of your own.

“So close.” he mumbled some time later. You pried your eyes open to watch him fall apart over you, his face absolutely beautiful as the pleasure overwhelmed him. You could feel his hot seed fill you, triggering your own orgasm, your walls fluttering around him as you moaned his name.

Breathless and sated, he collapsed, his head falling against your stomach.

You stayed like that for a time, waiting for your breathing to regulate and your bodies to cool.

“Guessing you really liked this morning's photo?” you giggled later. He raised his head, giving you a salacious grin.

“Don't tell Yoongi, but I jerked off to it after you sent it.” he chuckled, making you laugh and flutter your walls around him. He thrust back into you, making you both groan. You fell back on the counter, staring at the ceiling.

“I'm never going to be able to cook in here again without thinking about today.” you giggled, making him laugh outright.

“Your fault for being so delicious and putting thoughts in my head.” he replied, slipping his arms around your back to pull you upright and into his embrace. You leaned down to kiss him deeply as he pulled you off the counter, still linked together. He took you to your bedroom where you continued your activities well into the evening.

-End-

Read other shorts in this series: Seokjin | Yoongi | Hoseok | Namjoon | Jimin | Taehyung | Jungkook

[urhoneycombwitch]

my baby puts his mouth on me

Eddie Munson x shy!Reader

foreword: okay this is kind of written as a bonus scene for i know what they call you bc that version of reader deals with being quiet, too! (not necessary to read that one first but does provide a bit of context as far as interpersonal setting.) sort-of AU that ignores most s4 events.

cw: discussions of college, shy!reader, oral + fingering (R receiving), R has breasts and a V, weed usage, softdom!Eddie, shifting POV a bit soz 

wc: 2.2k

___

Somewhere between Eddie’s late nights at band rehearsal and your early morning diner shifts, you’ve both been too exhausted to properly fuck when you do see each other, barely time for a spare handjob in the past week. You’re crawling out of your skin by the weekend, missing and craving Eddie in equal measure.

So when your Saturday off happens to line up with his, Eddie makes an afternoon of it- picnic lunch on the shore of Lover’s Lake, lazing around in the August sun while your food settles, then stripping down to your underclothes (even though the spot Eddie scored was totally isolated, you’re still leery about skinny dipping) and cooling off with a quick dip in the lake.

You’re both sprawled out in the blanketed back of Eddie’s van, sun-warmed bodies pressed together, legs dangling out of the open rear door; smoke hangs hazy in the air from the joint being shared. 

“Almost end of summer,” Eddie says, nestling his nose into your neck, arms wrapping around your middle. He can’t look at you, dread unfurling in his stomach but needing to ask, to clear the air, to prepare in case this is one of the last times he gets to touch you like this- “Thinkin’ of going to any colleges?”

”Maybe.” One of your hands slides into Eddie’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp while the other lifts the joint to your lips for a long drag. “They love me at the diner and I make good tips, so I’ll prob’ly keep doing that. Can’t afford anything fancy, anyways- I’ll likely just go to Hawkins Community.”

You still haven’t told him the full story of the mall fire, yet- or about the underground world simmering beneath the surface. He never pushes you to share more than you’re comfortable, which you’re grateful for, but he knows something happened: something that paints your sleep with dark night terrors, something that causes you to slip in the middle of conversations, mind spiraling where he can’t follow. 

For reasons you can’t fully explain to Eddie, college is real low on your priority list- you’ve dedicated this summer to reconnecting with base instincts (weed and Pretty Boy being at the top of the list).

Meanwhile, Eddie tries to still the vibrant thrum of his heart at the news of you staying local, possibly for the next few years; he lifts his head to press his lips against your collarbone. “You should go to college. Jus’ try it out, at least. You’re certainly smart enough.”

“Mmm-” you hum around the joint, another inhale-exhale of smoke before murmuring, “So are you. For the record. We could apply to be nerds together, if you want-”

With a sharp gasp, your sentence drops out of midair when Eddie kisses over your nipple, already peaking through the thin material of your bra. In his hair, your grip tightens, and Eddie groans.

In one fluid movement, he props himself into his elbows on either side of your torso, bottom half of his weight pinning you in place, plucking the smoldering joint from your grasp to dampen it into a nearby ashtray.

“Gonna be my little student,” Eddie says, wet kisses trailing down your neck, flash of teeth making you squirm. “Get you some academic… skirts. The ones with the pleats. Maybe some stockings…”

“You’re so- oh, fuck- dirty…” It’s hard to keep the admonishment in your voice as Eddie noses between your thighs, bumping at your clit through the thin cover of high-cut cotton.

“Mm-hmm.” He seems pleased with the already-visible wet patch, your core leaking steadily as he burrows deeper, until all his senses are blacked-out with nothing but the sharp tang of your honeyed arousal- who needs weed. He could get high off your smell alone.

Eddie suckles at your throbbing clit, purring encouragement low in his throat when your hips jolt forward. “And you love it."

He’s one deep inhale from being completely pussy-drunk, mouthing sloppily at the junction where thigh meets pelvis, nimble fingers toying at the band of your underwear. He slides them down and off your legs, and you let him, wiggling in anticipation against the pressure he’s keeping you pinned with.

“Could take an electrician course.” Well aware of how close to the wire this conversation is sliding, you let the crown of your head tip back, staring at the van’s ceiling, handfuls of the flannel floor blanket squeezed into fists as you try getting one last word in- “You’re good with your h- hands.”

Said hand is cupping your bare sex, warm and wide between the V of your legs, other hand pushing your thigh back to spread you wide, obscene and on display how Eddie likes; embarrassment blooms hot in your chest as he runs a finger through your folds, slick practically loud against the far-off backdrop of forest sounds.

“What was that about my hands?” He’s teasing now, can hear it in his voice even though you can’t see the lazy grin it’s paired with; a long middle finger breaches your entrance, wet warmth swallowing the length greedily.

Your eyes flutter shut, sighing. There will be a time for arguments again but right now, with a second finger addition and Eddie’s mouth working you up, there’s no room for speech.

On your end, at least- Eddie’s proven on multiple occasions to be a master at multitasking, talking you through it while managing your pleasure, and this afternoon is no exception. His fingers curl expertly into the gummy front wall of your cunt, mouth running every second it’s not latched on to your pulsing button, dirty talk smooth and easy in his low timbre.

“Yeah, honey, that’s it. Fuck, you’re so hot. Can feel you squeezin’ around my fingers, y’so tight, angel, shit… like that- there you go…”

Etcetera. Until he’s bullied his way completely into the cradle of your legs, lying flat on his stomach to get as close as possible; until your cunt is spasming around the push and pull of his fingers, wet dripping and pooling into his palm and down your ass to the blanket below.

There’s a familiar tightness coiling in your stomach, thighs bracing around Eddie’s ears in anticipation of the unraveling. A pleasure-soaked sob gets caught in your throat, dull whine escaping instead through clenched teeth, grip on the flannel doubling until your knuckles creak in protest.

“Hey.” 

There’s a confusing lack of authority or command in Eddie’s voice; you sift through the brain fog of arousal, propping your weight up into your elbows to look down at him.

Eddie looks crazy. Debauched. Lips pink and spit-soaked, chin shimmering, pupils blown out with lust as he presses a chaste kiss to the wiry curls at your mound. “Kinda quiet up there. Everything okay?”

His thumb sweeps a comforting path up the soft skin of your thigh, the abrupt switch from animal to gentleness making your head swim. He’s still looking at you with those puppy-brown eyes, fingers still buried to the hilt but unmoving; you stammer out an excuse.

“Um- yeah. M’sorry. It’s just been awhile, since you’ve had me… like this.”

It’s the truth; over the last busy week in your lives, time has eroded some of what Eddie’s been working on building with you, bravery at making noise faded with the lessened practice time.

“No one else out here, ‘cept you and me, sweetheart.” Eddie’s coaxing his fingers back into steady rhythm, watching your face carefully for any signs of withholding. “Can make as much noise as you want. Lemme hear. Please?”

Usually, Eddie’s not so soft- a sharp crack of palm to ass, flesh jiggling as he draws all the noises he wants from you- but here, in the back of the van, heady weed and warm sun an intoxicating mixture as he asks you to melt for him. 

You obey. Let the floor take your upper body’s weight again as you fuck yourself on his fingers, hips lifted and seeking release. His mouth seals over your clit again, tip of his tongue lashing quick and precise against it, frizz of his curls tickling the insides of your legs as he shakes his head.

The weed is certainly a help as trapped noises heave from your chest, mouth falling open, lax and pliant with moans. “Oh, my god, Eddie. Fuck. Holy shit. Hah- right there, please, don’t stop-”

As if he would. Eddie moans in tandem with you, his own hips chasing the maddening pressure of the floorboards against the hard jut of his cock, leaking through the front of his boxers as he adds a third finger, spurred on by the fountain of breathy words this pulls from you-

“Oh god, oh god- f-fuck- Eddie, Eddie Eddie Eddie-”

Your speech devolves into a mindless, babbling chant of his name. That coil pulls taut, has you crunching forward in a half sit-up, hands fisting at the roots of Eddie’s hair to hold him in place (perhaps harsher than you intend but based on the way his hips stutter and grind, you can safely hazard a guess that he’s into it). 

The pattern breaks when he grazes his teeth against the pulsing nub in his mouth; you have just enough time to gasp out, “I- I’m coming, Eddie, shit, m’gonna come-” before the orgasm hits you full-force.

There isn’t room in your brain to hide all the noise that threatens to suffocate, so you let them all out, muscles tightening and flexing around every bright point of pleasure that he fucks you through. High-pitched whines, panting that wracks your lungs, a moan to top it all off that feels like it comes from your toes. 

“Jesus christ.” Eddie swipes the back of his hand over his mouth, sounding wrecked himself as he climbs back over your body, silver chain necklace and dark curls swinging in front of your blissed-out face. “Fuck, princess. That was so hot.”

“Yeah?” Bashfulness hasn’t fully settled in yet, you’re still loopy from the force of your pleasure, arms slipping over the boy’s freckled shoulders as he leans down to kiss you.

His tongue has a bright tang of you, as you lick into his mouth, one hand leaving his shoulder to trail down his chest. Dark ink whorls beneath your fingertips as you reach the scratchy trail of hair just before his boxers-

“Shit.” Eddie hisses, forehead thunking into yours when you palm the hard length of him, precum soaking through the fabric, softness of your palm contrasting with the damp and rough drag of cotton. His long lashes tickle your cheek, eyes fluttering closed, soft exhale magnified by close proximity as he slowly pushes into your hand. 

You’re mildly surprised he hasn’t come, yet- usually Eddie gets off on getting you off, then uses the rest of his energy to make you both come again, together. 

What Eddie hasn’t told you yet is that he’s done some prep of his own, this week: every night you haven’t spent in his bed, his own spit-slicked fist has taken him right to the edge, stopping just short of coming with a choking grip at the base. The idea was to build up his stamina a bit, to take advantage of lonely evenings in service to a future you.

A very noble cause that is quickly being forgotten as your hand moves with more intent and pressure against his aching cock- the drug haze is almost enough to have him completely at your mercy, to tuck his nose into the curve of your neck and find sweet release by way of your pretty palm.

But he recovers. Get just enough distance from the warmth of you to clear his mind and snake his own hand down between your bodies to capture your twisting wrist. 

The protest dies on your lips when Eddie brings your hand to his mouth, sucking your middle and index finger against the pad of his tongue, saturating your digits in spit.

“Here’s what you’re gonna do.” His eyes stay locked on yours, even as he guides your newly-wet fingers back down your bodies to rest atop your cunt. “You’re gonna touch yourself until you come. Again. And if I feel like you’re holding out on me with your noises, I’m gonna make it real difficult for you to make any noise. At all.”

A thrilling shiver races up your spine, goosebumps prickling in response to the shift in Eddie’s tone. His eyes flick to your lower lip, which he bites, unable to help himself, before following the path of your hand south.

There will be time for unwinding the past, for dreaming about the future. For now, there’s a boy between your legs and the feverish glow of summer calling your name. 

___

for more shy!Reader content: masterlist

[mochinomnoms]

Shrimpy Chronicles: The Drop-Off

Background Octopolycule x Reader (Main: Dad!Jade and OC!Daughter)

Synopsis

“Open water! I wanna see the water open at the drop-off!” Oh yes, she knows all about how Dada raved about the drop-off. Pearl knew it all too well, more than she wanted, actually. Dada, with his droopy eyes and raspy giggle, talked about how the open ocean is where all the big scaries come from. Where leviathans sleep, and the kraken lays in wait for the next unsuspecting meal. And that’s if the human fish-ear-men don’t get you first! “They throw in iron hooks, puttin’ tasty morels from the surface to bribe ya. And then, when you bite, take even a nibble, the hook digs into your cheek! And out through your skin! They drag ya up ‘n out of the water, and then they skin and scalp ya to eat!” No, she didn’t have nightmares for weeks after! Pearl was just having a hard time sleeping!

Collection Masterlist: Shrimpy Chronicles

[wc} - 2,020

[cw/tags] - Reader is mentioned as 'Ama' but has they/them pronouns, in daughter's p.o.v., heavily implied poly!octotrio x reader, main focus is Jade with daughter.

[notes] - I wanted to write a cute domestic scenario with the other twin since I did Coral in the last story lol. Thinking aboujt Jade's dream in Book 7, even though it's not accurate I think it does show that he does like having his friend and brother around. I think he'd want his kids to feel the same about their own siblings and friends.

also prime sibling behavior at the end uwu

If Pearl had to decide on going to school or hiding in the coral in her bedroom, she’d rather hide. 

No, she’s not a baby! She’s not scared of her first day of school! She just doesn’t want to go, she thinks it’s booooooring!

That’s what she’s telling Coral anyways, who rolled her eyes when Pearl asked if she wanted to skip the day before. 

“I don’t wanna! Dada said they take you to the drop off and look at how deep the-the—um…”

Coral had scrunched her nose and lips, frustration clear on her little face.

“I forgot what it was called.”

“I think Dada said it was open?”

“Open water! I wanna see the water open at the drop-off!”

Oh yes, she knows all about how Dada raved about the drop-off. Pearl knew it all too well, more than she wanted, actually. 

Dada, with his droopy eyes and raspy giggle, talked about how the open ocean is where all the big scaries come from. Where leviathans sleep, and the kraken lays in wait for the next unsuspecting meal. 

And that’s if the human fish-ear-men don’t get you first!

“They throw in iron hooks, puttin’ tasty morels from the surface to bribe ya. And then, when you bite, take even a nibble, the hook digs into your cheek! And out through your skin! They drag ya up ‘n out of the water, and then they skin and scalp ya to eat!”

No, she didn’t have nightmares for weeks after! Pearl was just having a hard time sleeping!

Either way, Pearl just didn’t feel like leaving the comfort of her home. Her Baba was gone for the morning already to check on his restaurant on the surface, while her Ama and Nana Narissa left a bit ago to talk with people in the town.

Ama and Nana had given her and her sister lots of kisses and made them breakfast to wish them good luck. Ama looked ready to cry as Nana put a barrette made of sturgeon scales into Coral’s hair, clipping her two dark strands of hair back and out of her face.

 Ama was fully bawling as Nana did the same thing for Pearl, though her hair was long and thin enough to be fully clipped into a low ponytail.

“They match like their fathers! Waaaah! They’re so cute!” 

Ama had been babbling, squeezing Coral and Pearl to her chest like a kid with a toy. Dada always squeezed tightly, but Ama could give him a run for his money right then.

Nana had to drag Ama away and called for her Dada and Papa to finish getting her and Coral ready. Dada was giggling at Ama as they swam out the front door, while Papa was looking at her and Coral. 

“My, my. Look, Floyd, the little ones are matching us.” Papa reached down to tap at the barrettes in her and her twin’s hair. “How did Mother get these scales, I wonder?”

“Mama’s real cutthroat, probably told some of them that she’d serve them up to humans if they didn’t give her some.” Dada had taken to picking up Coral by the tail and swinging her upside down in his arms. 

“What? No, Nana is nice!” Coral was giggling, twisting and turning to get out of Dada’s grasp. 

“Nice to you, Nana loves her baby grand shrimp!” Pearl watched as Coral managed to wiggle mostly out of Dada’s grasp, reaching up to pull at his dark gray strand of hair 

As her sister pulled harder at his hair, and Papa swam over to pull Coral away from his face, Pearl took the opportunity to quietly slip out and back into her bedroom. She could still make out the sounds of laughter and a screech from Dada as she heard a chomping sound. 

Pearl giggled to herself, swimming into her bedroom to find a hiding spot. Somewhere new, though, where Dada or Papa couldn’t find her. 

Hmm, in the bookshelf? No, that wouldn’t work. Under the pillows? No, they’d see her underneath it. Oh, wait! Baba left his old octopot in their room! Said something about using it for a hatchling, but she didn’t know what that was!

She’s not a hatchling, so maybe they’d never suspect she’d be there. Perfect!

Pearl hummed to herself, going into the toy corner, where she saw the black, metal cauldron among the many toys she and her sister had been gifted with over the years. 

She didn’t exactly match the color of the pot, but Pearl supposes she can cover the entrance with a stuffed toy.

“Hmm, oh! This one!” Pearl grabbed a blue and yellow reef fish, just big enough to cover the entrance, and curled into the pot as tightly as she could. 

Pearl closed her eyes and relaxed, being soothed by the cool iron of the pot and the darkness surrounding her. Even the stripes on her tail were starting to glow in the rhythm of her heartbeat. 

Biting at the tips of her claws, she waited for the sounds of her fathers and sister to finally disappear. Hopefully they wouldn’t notice she snuck off and—

“Oya? Now what little creature is hiding here?”

The sudden light in her eyes made Pearl hiss and curl further into herself, burying her face into her tail and arms. She felt Papa’s hands carefully reach in and pull her out, though she growled and swiped at them. Even when she bit into one of his fingers, Papa still carefully cradled her and brought her back into the open. 

He looked amused as she gnawed on his finger, twisting her little tail around his arm as she let out another growl, trying to imitate a roll she’d seen him do to a barracuda once. A death roll, she thinks it was called?

“I see, it’s my little elver! Now, what is my elver doing hiding from her Papa, hmm?” Papa cooed at her, rubbing his thumb against her cheek affectionately. 

Pearl let out a pleased purr, finally letting go of his fingers and nuzzling into his touch. She just about melted into his arms as he brought her to his chest, humming as she curled in like she used to when she first hatched. 

“Now, Pearl, what’s going on?” Papa sunk to the floor, curling his tail around him as he spoke. “Aren’t you excited about your first day? Your sister certainly is.”

“Umm, yeah! I just—I just feel—um—sick!” Pearl let out a ‘cough’, sticking her tongue out for dramatic effect.

“Ehgeh…I’m too sick to go to school.”

Papa’s chest shook, sounding like he did when he was trying not to laugh at Baba Zuzu when she tried to eat one of his arms. 

“Oh, is that—pfft—so?”

“Yeah! Too sick. Too tiiiired! I stay home!”

Pearl went limp in Papa’s arms, feeling rather satisfied in herself. She managed to trick him! No school for her means no drop-off either! Now she could stay home all day and—

“Oh noooo, you can’t stay home, Pearl, we need to take you to the doctor!”

Huh?

“Oh, um, no thank you—”

“Yes, yes. You must go to the doctor, that cough sounds awfully terrible. You’re going to need, hmm, throat surgery.”

Pearl started squirming out of Papa’s grasp, finding it rather hard to do when he decided to squeeze her against his chest. 

“No Papa Jade, I don’t wanna go to the doctor—”

“Hmm, then you’ll need medicine, the one that tastes like sour algae.” 

Pearl panicked, pushing against his face, which was slowly morphing into a grin.

“Actually Papa, I think I’m okay, I’m not sick—”

Papa’s second jaws clacked as he softly pressed his teeth on her, brushing against her cheek, then neck, then tummy, tickling her. 

“Aha! You lied to Papa, now he’s going to eat you!”

“EEEEE!” Pearl shrieked, thrashing in his hold as she cackled. “NOOO—snrk—STOOOP! PAPAAAA! AAAAAAH—snort—THAT TICKLES!!”

Papa let out a gentle laugh as he finally let Pearl breathe, using his free arm to lean against the ground. She was small enough though for her to still be cradled in his other arm. 

“Now, Pearl, do you want to tell me the actual reason you don’t want to go to school? It’s your first day after all.”

Tucking herself into his arms and shutting her eyes closed, Pearl mumbled into her Papa’s chest.

“...I’m scared of the monsters…”

She felt herself moving again, peeking from her eyelashes to look at Papa’s frowning face. 

“Monsters my sweet?”

Peal nodded, tapping her claws together nervously. 

“Yeah, and the fish-ear-mans. The ones that Dada Floyd said would-would—um—scape you to eat?”

“Scalp, my sweet.” Papa looked mad, but still gave her a soft smile. “He means scalp.”

Sighing and swimming up and towards the door, Papa held Pearl’s hand to help her follow. 

“And he’s being a bit dramatic, they don’t eat little mermaids like you. Even if they wanted to, I wouldn’t let them.”

The living room was empty, Dada and Coral probably left already to the pickup spot for school. It wasn’t very far from their grotto, and it looked like a lot of other families were on the way as well. 

“...But, Papa? What about the monsters?”

Papa looked down at her, his eyes softening as he rubbed a thumb over her hand. 

“Well, the sea has many monsters, but they all live far, far away from the reef. Much farther in the deep sea, that’s why you go to school, to learn how to protect yourself from the monsters.”

Pearl pouted, she didn’t know what learning her numbers had to do with monsters. 

“But, if I stay home…the monsters will never find me! Problem solved!”

She smiled to herself, shimmying her shoulders like she was dancing. 

“They can’t find me at home! You can protect me!”

Papa let out a chuckle, tugging her along as they saw Dada and Coral waiting at the pickup for the teacher. She thinks his name was Mr. Raymond.

“Well, that is certainly true, but—” Tugging her up into his arms again, Papa pressed his forehead against hers and murmured. “—who will protect Coral? She’ll be all alone without you.”

Pearl frowned at that, looking at her sister, who was currently clenching tight onto Dada’s arm and digging her teeth into his shoulder. 

“...I think Dada Floyd needs more protecting than Coral.”

A laugh left Papa’s mouth as he watched the small shrimpmer somehow launch herself at Dada’s face, making him fall backwards into the ground.

“Perhaps you’re right, but she’d still like the company. I know I did with your other parents.” 

She smiled at that, Coral did always like bringing her around when they got into trouble. Baba and Ama told her that Dada and Papa got into it a lot too. They seemed to grow up fine. 

“...Okay Papa, I trust you!”

Pearl wriggled out of his grasp, darting over to Coral and practically tackled her off of Dada and into the soft sand. Both of them giggled as they played a game of tag, waiting for their teacher to pick them up. 

As the two were preoccupied, Jade swam up to Floyd, who was up and stretching his arms over his head. 

“Heya Jade, was wondering how long it’d take ya to find Pearl—yow!”

Floyd hissed as Jade pulled on his earfin, on the verge of digging his claws into the thin skin. A small, polite smile on his face, Jade leaned in to quietly hiss. 

“When our mates get back home from their work and chores, we are going to have a good and clear conversation about how to talk to our children, if just to keep myself from mangling you to shreds.”

Finally let go of, Floyd held a hand to his now tender fin, glaring at his brother and growling. 

“Tch, what’s stoppin’ ya now?”

Jade pouted and wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye, even sniffling for dramatic effect. 

“Our mates—unfortunately—adore you too much, I fear Azul and (Name) would be devastated…”

“Fuckin’ asshole.”

“Yes you are, but what am I?”

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

[mrrcury]

SEPERATION ANXIETY ☆

written by mercury ٩(ˊᗜˋ)و✰

childe x gender neutral reader, they/them pronouns used like, once, otherwise no pronouns used

cw : anxiety, (obvi) blood, genshin spoilers, violence, drowning

authors note : wrote this based off a brainrot i posted a long time ago. this gives major undertale vibes btw have fun reading

You heard it.

A large splash, it echoed throughout the great walls and cliffs of the Abyss. It ringed in you ears, and caught your attention immediately. Who wouldn't wanna check out something as mysterious as that, right? So like the little child you were, you left.

Footsteps crunched under the hard ground, as you observed your dark surroundings. You never exactly went to this part of the Abyss, as your mother told you it would not be worth it. But, curiosity killed the cat.

When you approached the lake that was inside the vastly cavern that you live in, you saw the water glimmering and rippling, as if freshly touched. All you had to do was look a teensy bit closer. Was that,

A human?

You were surprised, to say the least. Humans haven't dared to come down here for a while, at least quite rarely. You could see the boy falling deeper into the water, his bright ginger hair flowing in the water.

So you jumped in, grabbed his hand, and dragged him out with your abyssal claws that were the tiniest bigger then his.

He was a little bit lighter then you expected, and you could see all his features while pulling him up. You could see the star-like freckles that adorned his face, similar to the ones in the sky. When you got him back onto the land, he didn't seem to be breathing. Oh no. Did you have to do that one technique where you put your mouth on-

cough cough

Oh, nevermind, good!

You stared at him with big eyes as the boy hacked up water from his lungs. He looked up at you, eyes with a deep blue likened to that of Enkanomiya. They were intriguing, beautiful even.

"Wh-who are you? Where am I!" The young boy shrieked with terror. He didn't seem the happiest to be here. I mean, you wouldn't either. Maybe.

"Oh, I'm [Name.]"

"Also, you're in the Abyss." You muttered, with a hushed voice. He got up from the ground to where you were crouching. "The abyss?" He said quietly. You nodded.

"I don't really know how you ended up here, but good luck, you're not getting out."

"Wait, what?"

He looked at you again, you could see the fear in his eyes, his pupils just slightly shrinking.

"Yeah, this place don't let people out freely. You have to make it out. Prove yourself, basically."

You could see his body to slightly shake, tearing his eyes off of you to observe where he was at. You looked with him, taking another glance at the dark cliffs you've grown to be so familiar with. It was home to you, but a soon to be nightmare for the boy.

"How would I, y'know, prove myself?"

"Eh, you gotta fight for it. Ever fought a hilichurl before?" You looked at him again.

He shook his head with slight hesitance.

"Okay, let me show you how to do it."

☆

It's been about a week since you found the boy. You decided to introduce him to your mother, Skirk, as he couldn't exactly be left alone with no shelter in a place like this.

You figured out his name was Ajax a little after you met him. He told you with a smile on his face, and how he was named after a great hero.

Skirk was a lot harder on him then you were. To you, he was just a boy. You treated him like a friend, someone equal to you. After a bit, you genuinely started to care for him.

Skirk however, was stricter. She treated him a only a little meaner then you, however it was mostly when he was getting trained to fight by her. He did kind of have little to no experience in this field.

You taught him the basics to fight, how to wield a sword correctly, proper stances, basically enough to be able to fend yourself from a couple slimes or a hilichurl. Skirk taught the more advanced stuff.

When he was down here, he felt like a best friend to you. He told you stories about him and his father ice fishing, and his siblings too. He had a new one on the way at the time he came down here.

He talked about his family and Snezhnaya with stars in his eyes, it made you admire him.

"Oh, I've been meaning to ask. What exactly are you? You don't look human, or really sound like it either" He said curiously.

"Im an Abyss Herald. In training, at least. I'm not fully grown yet."

"That sounds cool! Do you guys have magical powers or anything!"

"Ah, does abyssal magic count?"

"Yeah, yeah! Show me some!" He looked at you, about to burst with excitement.

You giggled, a toothy smile spreading across your face. "Okay, but i'm not showing you much."

"Awwh, why not?"

"You'll find out why later!" A smug look appeared on your face. He snickered in response.

☆

Its been a month, and you guys fucked up.

You ran around with Ajax a little too far around in the Abyss, and you ended up just entering a teensy bit too far into a beast's cavern. Both of you knew how to fight, but were no match for the beast you just had to have encountered:

This was a foreign feeling to you but, you were afraid. Afraid of what might happen to the both of you.

The two of you have opposing opinions on what you should do about this. You wanted to run, to just not get hurt and to get away, as you were smart enough to know you wouldn't be able to beat this monster.

However, Ajax had a different opinion. You noticed how the longer he's been here with you and Skirk, the more his, personality, has changed.

Just a month ago he was a timid boy, barely knew how to fight and only had a shortsword and a loaf of bread with him. Almost like a defenseless puppy.

But, now that he's gotten a point in training, he's become.. Violent, to say the least. Battle-hungry was a more accurate word for it.

He changed, and you knew it.

Back to the point, when you ran into this beast, Ajax acted recklessly. He pulled out his sword and charged head first into the beast while you tried to stop him. Clearly, his plan didn't work. He did get a couple of hits onto the beast, but in trade he was injured.

"Ajax!" You called out, arm stretched in failed attempt to stop him from killing the wretched beast. You knew this was a bad idea, yet you couldn't prevent it.

You heard that terrible scream, the one you dreaded ever since he became close to you. And you knew what you had to do.

☆

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Skirk scolded Ajax for the incident. For him just running straight in without any proper strategy or skill for the battle. She didn't let you off the hook either, as she was also angry at you for not stopping it.

Both of you were clearly ashamed of what happened back in the fight.

"Did you seriously think that was a good idea? You are only human, and [Name,] you know damn well better." Skirk hissed and seethed as she bandaged Ajax's wounds. Ajax looked at her, tight lipped.

Suprise to you, Ajax showed little to almost no remorse for charging into the fight. You could guess he didn't regret it, despite the gaping wound on his body. All you could tell was his deep, dark blue eyes, which no longer held so much light to them.

They used to sparkle, like that of the moon, shining above the rest. It was what you took note of the most.

But as of now, they lost their shine, slowly and carefully.

You wondered if they would ever shine again.

☆

It has been 3 months ever since you found the boy in the lake by the cliffs.

Ajax made significant progress in becoming a fighter, if you compared him now to the boy you first met, it was almost unbelievable, and impressive. However, you win some and ya lose some. With that fighting ability he gained, he also lost a part of him. A part that gave him humanity, you could say.

You wouldn't quite call it insanity, but that part of him changed and shifted, into something that wasn't really normal anymore. Something that almost scared you.

But, the time was coming. Ajax had to leave.

The long awaited day arrived, and as it seems, the Abyss has seen Ajax worthy of returning to the surface levels. He had a family to go back to, and even though you two made a great bond, you were filled with dread knowing this day would come. It made you upset.

Wait

what?

This has, really, never happened before.

You had never so much as been phased when friends of yours cane and went. Things worked differently in the Abyss, life was different. You couldn't expect people to stick around for too long.

So why were you affected by him?

Why were you affected by Ajax leaving?

He held a place in your heart, the memories you made together, how you and Skirk taught him his ability and even taught him a special tool, you called it Foul Legacy. A trick, which was used by you and your mother, you also gave to him.

But the only true thing you could do was wonder, on why a human teenage boy made you feel so much as even saddened by his leaving.

When the day came, you told him to follow the Northern Star, or Polaris. The star would lead him to the exit of the Abyss, should that it would let him leave.

But, you wont forget that looks in his eyes.

Ones that seemed to have lost their innocence, look at you with almost a sense of longing.

Or words that would ring in your head for the rest of your life.

"Ill see you again, [Name.] I love you."

[kumkaniudaku]

Requesting sadness 15: “I can’t do this anymore.” w/ Terry Richmond but it could be an unrequited love story that maybe was reciprocated idk

@pocketsizedpanther put NFL!Terry in my mind and this is what came up.

Silence. Unusual, unbearable silence. The kind of silence that hung in the air thick like humidity in Georgia, choking the life out of every living being in its vicinity. 

Silver forks scratched porcelain plates while two lovers sat across from each other trying to salvage a romantic dinner gone awry before it could ever start. Terry sensed the discomfort when he flew into town with no welcoming hug at the end of the tarmac. She left no text, no call, not even an insight into her whereabouts via Instagram stories. Only an empty space where her pretty red BMV usually sat awaiting his return. 

She hadn’t been in the stands lately either. From the cloudless skies of Los Angeles to the bitter chill of Philadelphia, she was a mainstay on the sidelines, wearing his last name on her back like a badge of honor. But tickets had gone unclaimed here and there. Not enough to raise alarms, but enough for him to bring it up as they dug into the night’s dinner. 

“If you wasn’t trynna be in the cold, that’s cool too. It’s just…you know. I wanted you to be there to see us win the conference. It’s kind of a big deal. First time in like six seasons or something like that. I don’t know. I just got here.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to be sorry. I’d rather make sure you’re good than get tight over a game. Football isn’t more important than you. You straight?” He shoveled a forkful of branzino into his mouth, looking across the table for a response that she never provided. “Tia, what’s up? You feeling alright?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Did I forget something?” 

“No.” 

“Somebody DM you something crazy? Fans bothering you again? Let me know something.” 

Her distant stare slowly drifted to his face with tears welling in her waterline. “I-Terrence, I can’t do this anymore?” 

“Do what? What you mean?” He knew. He’d seen the text messages and how she rushed out of the room to answer phone calls. The rumor mills and blind item reports never missed a beat. Atlanta wasn’t a city for secrets. But, he prayed that they’d been mistaken. Taking a sip of his water, he took a deep breath and repeated himself. “What can’t you do anymore? Sneak around like I can’t see you? Lie? Cheat? What is it, Tia?” 

Each question came out louder than the one before, making Tia wince in her seat. 

She knew he’d never put his hands on her. Terry was too sweet for that. So sweet that it made life boring. Being a kept trophy wife wasn’t her speed, but she allowed him to woo her in the VIP section of a club in Las Vegas and drag her back to a slow life full of WAG meetings and nosey neighbors. The thrill of being All Star tight end Terrence Richmond’s girlfriend lost its luster the moment engagement rings and wedding dresses became the topic of every conversation. 

One-night stands turned into sneaking around during long road trips until feelings and another life threw a wrench in what was supposed to be a quick fling with someone far too stupid to be a long-term beau. She’d fucked up. 

“It’s not you,” she choked out, trying to offer him some solace. “He was around when you weren’t and I-”

“Bro, don’t explain that shit to me! You don’t think I’m lonely sometimes? That I don’t meet women ready to fill a void if I snap my fingers? C’mon, Tia. This me you talkin’ to right now! Stop playing in my face!” 

He was fuming and fighting to keep his emotions at bay as he paced across the lavish dining room. 

Tia drew in a deep breath to calm the tears forcing a painful lump into her throat. “I’m sorry, Terry. I know I messed up. I embarrassed you and I’m so fucking sorry for that.” 

“Did you fuck him?” Dread attacked their bellies simultaneously. Seconds passed so slowly that he looked over at the wall clock to make sure time wasn’t standing still. Her silence became confirmation. 

She swallowed hard and nodded. “I’m pregnant. Yesterday makes eight weeks. Terry...”

“The Houston game, wasn’t it. When you said you got sick halfway through and had to leave early. You lied in front of my mama and got pregnant while she was worried about you. You fuckin’ sick in the head, Tia, what the fuck!”

Any explanation Tia intended to offer became lost in a swirl of profanity and angry shouting. Betrayed was the prevailing sentiment. All of his hopes for a family smiling back at him before pre-game intros were dashed, leaving him grieving in real-time. He blamed himself for believing that she was ready for something serious and ignoring the warnings. Now, all he had to show for his blind optimism was a broken heart. 

Tia watched Terry dissolve into a near rage with tears ruining her foundation as they poured without ceasing. All of the trust, all of the love they’d built in two years together was washed away by her selfishness. 

“You gotta go,” he finally managed to grit through clenched teeth. “Get the fuck out. Nah, fuck it. I’ll go. You stay until I can get some shit figured out, but you can’t stay here past the weekend.”

“Terrence! I don’t have anywhere to go!” 

“That’s not my fuckin’ problem! Call your sister or that nigga or some shit, I don’t care. All I’ve ever done is take care of you. If you think you can keep makin’ a fool outta me, you got the wrong motherfucka. This shit is over. Forreal this time!”

“But, I can’t -” 

“What the fuck are you fighting for, Tia? You made your decision. Deal with that shit!”

Sobbing and pleas to rethink his decision hit the condo’s walls like bricks, likely fueling a noise complaint that would be slapped on the door come morning. Tia listened to Terry rifle through drawers and closets on the hunt for enough to get him through a few nights at the Four Seasons. 

He just needed to blow off some steam. They’d been in this place before, angry and screaming at the top of their lungs behind her indiscretions, only to come back together and push the pain of the past to the far recesses of their mind. But, as he stomped his way out of the front door and into the night without so much as a second look, the future became more clear. 

He was gone. For good this time.

[watermelonlovershigh]

Arguments and Confessions {part 2.} (housemate!harry series)

Period Cramps Are No Fun {part 1.} (housemate!harry series)

AN: so after writing part 1. to this, i knew i needed to continue it somewho and this is what i came up with. if you haven't read the previous part, please read that first but it's not mandatory to understand this one. just a recommendation. i hope you enjoy and yes i plan on writing a part three to continue this part as well. make sure to send me your feedback and how you enjoyed it. thank you and enjoy. xoxo

This story contains: smut, one-night stands, arguing (angst), confessions of feelings

{ housemate!harry - friendrry - soft!harry - au harry }

word count- 2,097

After not being able to take one more night of hearing you and your one-night stand have fun in your room, Harry angrily leaves until you're done which leads to apologizing and confessions the following morning.

Ever since your last period a few weeks ago where Harry had to help you in the middle of the night from the amount of pain your cramps were causing you, there has been this lingering tension in the house. You don't know if its from Harry having seen you in such a vulnerable position that night. Or maybe that moment where you could have sworn Harry was thinking of leaning down to kiss you after you shared your gratitude for what he'd done. Either way, the tensions are high and you hate it.

For instance, two Saturdays ago you went out to the club with some friends and end up bringing a guy back home. Harry didn't really care if you brought friends over or people over for a one-night stand as long as they left his stuff alone. That was until he caught feelings for you that you're unaware of.

Anyways, Harry was sat on the couch watching some television show with his cat Pixie in his lap when you came stumbling in the front door with a man by your side. Now you don't always bring home men. You don't sleep around too much but, you dabble here and there when you get just tipsy enough and you're in a desperate need of some real cock.

Harry looked up from the tv screen with an annoyed face. One you've never seen him portray before. Usually when you brought men home he smiled and joked, saying stuff like, "Be safe and make sure you have him wrap it up." Or, "Not too loud, kids. I've got work in the mornin'." Right then, if looks could kill, they would.

To try and have a good rest of your night, you didn't linger in worry over the look Harry gave you and dragged the man you met at the club to your room. Once the moans started, Harry stands from the couch, turning the tv off, and quickly went into his bedroom so he could bury himself under his covers to hopefully drowned out the sounds.

The only reason Harry never tells you to go to their house for the one-night stands is because he feels safer knowing you're here. He can hear if something was to go wrong and you needed help. Otherwise, he would tell you to go back to their house.

When you first moved into his house, Harry never had a problem with hearing moans come out of your room during your one-night stands. He'd drowned them out and move on to what he was doing. But the longer you lived here and the closer you got to one another, the more painful it is to bare. It physically makes him nauseous to think about how another man is making you feel good. Touching you. Fucking you just right. He wished upon anything that it was him.

Seeings as you brought a stranger home, you obviously don't feel the same about him. Or so he thinks. But in reality, you like Harry just as much as he likes you. And the only reason you have one-night stands is you're afraid to share your feelings to Harry because if he doesn't reciprocate, the tension in the house would be ten times worse and you'd probably have to move out. Which means you'd have nowhere to go because he's the cheapest option right now.

Little does Harry know though, everytime you bring a guy back home, as he's fucking you into the mattress, all you can picture is Harry. You picture that guys hands as Harry's hands. You picture that guys dick as Harry's dick. Even the guys face, you close your eyes and imagine it as Harry's perfect face. You're surprised you haven't moaned out Harry's name yet on accident. That would be embarrassing.

You have a feeling Harry doesn't like you in any other way other then just friends too because well, he also has frequent one-night stands over. He invites both men and women to his bedroom to enjoy for the night. You have to sit and suffer as you hear the moans that come out of his room. Just like Harry, when you first moved in it wasn't a big deal. But now, months after living here and the closer you get, the more painful it is.

You wish more than anything you were the people he had in his bed. The one he had under him, or, the one on top of him. Little did you know though for the past few months, every person Harry's slept with he imagines them as you. Whether he has a girl for the night or a boy. Especially when he sleeps with other women because well, you're a women so picturing her as you is easy. With a man it's not as easy but he still subconsciously pictures them as you.

-------------------------------

Currently it's Friday night and after meeting this very hot man at the bar and chatting it up, you decide to take him home with you. You know you should cool it down with all this sleeping around you've been doing recently but the more your feelings grow for Harry, the more you find yourself having one-night stands. Probably to try and ignore those underlying feelings you have towards your housemate.

As you enter the front door with an attractive man in your arms, giggling about something he whispered in your ear, you notice Harry in his usual spot on the couch. His cat Pixie in his lap. But something's different about him tonight. Usually he tiredly smiles at you and jokes around about the things you're about to go do in your bedroom.

Tonight though, he has a deep frown on his face and stands up quicker then you'd ever seen. Grabbing his keys out of the dish by the entryway, Harry spits in a sour tone, "Let me know when you're done, yeah. I'd rather not be here while you're getting fucked by some fuckin' stranger." With that, Harry's out the door in a flash and makes his way to his car in the driveway.

"What's his problem?" your one-night stand questions.

Standing there in shock at how Harry just reacted, you answer just as confused, "Um...... I.. I donno. Usually he's cool when I bring people home." Wanting to at least try and enjoy the rest of your night, you grab the man's arm and drag him towards your bedroom.

This is your first one-night stand that you can say was truly an awful experience. It wasn't so much the guys fault as it was your's. The whole time he was fucking you into the mattress, all you could think about was Harry and how him leaving like he did didn't sit right with you. You hate when people are mad at you and Harry's reaction made it seem like he was very angry with you tonight.

Towards the end of the sex, you became less wet and the sex became more painful. You just weren't turned on at all anymore. You should have told the man to stop but he looked like he was close to coming so you just laid there emotionless until he came in the condom. The man did attempt to make you come by rubbing on your clit but his technique was all wrong and his fingertips felt like dry sandpaper.

Once he pulls out, you stand up to put your clothes back on and as politely as possible request your one-night stand to leave. Most of the time you'll let them stay and you'll cuddle until you both fall asleep but tonight, you didn't want that.

The man leaves in a hurry and as soon as he's out the front door, you text Harry.

To Harry-

he's gone. you can come back home now. going to sleep. night.

From his car, Harry reads the message and makes his way back to his house. He didn't go far. He literally just drove around the neighborhood in circles until you were done. As he pulls back into the driveway, guilt floods his system. He should have never reacted that way. But he just couldn't bare another night of hearing your moans.

Funny thing is, though he now knows you own several sex toys and he assumes you use them from time to time, he's never once heard you masturbate. He'd almost rather hear you moaning from your vibrators then some duchy man.

Harry quietly opens the front door and wishes you weren't asleep right now. He wants to talk to you and properly apologize but he reckons it'll have to wait until morning. He turns all the lights out in the kitchen and living room before going into his bedroom and getting into bed. He hopes he can get at least a little sleep but as of now, his mind is wide awake from guilt and also coming to terms with the fact he actually does like you but not knowing when or if he should tell you that.

-------------------------------

The next morning you're up before Harry and decide to make some coffee. As you're pouring the dark liquid in your cup, Harry walks in the kitchen with a yawn. You turn around and notice how tired he looks. Like he didn't get much sleep last night. "Mornin'." he mutters while scratching his belly.

With a tight lipped smile, you reply, "Morning." to him as well.

Sitting down on a stool at his kitchen island, Harry begins, "Look, I want to apologize for how I acted last night. It was uncalled for. I...."

"No, I get it." you cut him off, "This is your house. I should ask before I bring people over. I just assumed since you've always been so cool about it before that you never had a problem with it. From now on I'll request to go to their house."

"Y/n, that's not it at all. And please don't go to a strangers house. I'd rather you did bring them here so at least I know you're safe when you have one-night stands. But, I'd rather you not have any at all."

Frowning, you bite back, "Then what is it, Harry? You don't want me going to their houses yet you dislike when I bring them here. I've gotta find pleasure somewhere since I don't have an actual boyfriend."

"Why not just use one of the many sex toys I know you have?" Harry comments without thinking and your eyes go wide.

"Wha...What? How do you know about those?"

Giggling arrogantly, he answers, "When you asked me to get you your pain medicine out of your bedside table drawer a few weeks ago. Seen three in there. Classic place to hide them, Y/n. Real classic."

Stuttering, you speak, "I..... I um, it's not the same, Harry! And I could say the same about you. Why don't you just use your hand instead of bringing people over, hm?"

"I use my hand and still bring people home, Y/n. I'm a horny guy. What can I say." You've never seen Harry be so cheeky with his remarks and it's kinda turning you on.

"Okay, so..... like why don't you get yourself a boyfriend or girlfriend?" you question curiously. Ever since living here with Harry he's never had a partner. Just random hook-ups here and there. From your more vulnerable talks, you know he's had partners in the past but he said they never lasted more than a few months and you didn't know the reason.

Breathing deeply, Harry nervously shifts in his seat before spilling, "Because I think I like someone and havin' a girlfriend or boyfriend would make me feel like I'm betraying them."

You notice how nervous Harry appears now. His chest heaves more as he inhales larger breaths. His hands fiddle with the one ring he has on his middle finger. His legs are bobbing up and down. You're scared to ask your next question because depending on his answer, you could get your heart broken.

"Who do you like, Harry?"

"Um..." he starts, "well, she has brown hair and hazel eyes. Very beautiful hazel eyes. Perfect pink lips and an amazing body. She's about 5'5 in height and loves watchin' rom coms on my couch."

Harry is literally describing you but you don't want to assume. Because if it wasn't you, you'd be so embarrassed you guessed yourself. "By chance, what's her name?"

Looking deeply in your eyes, Harry answers clearly, "Her name..... her name is Y/n."

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

 // @luv-flor7777  // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown  // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar  // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone //  @goldenkhae // @lntwithhrry  // @shadowygladiatorlight  // @manifestrry  //@mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts  // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi // @quinnsgrapejuice // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @justlemmeholdyou // @hsonlyangelxo // @luvonstyles // @howdey

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

Friends Who Share Mutual Emotions {part 3.} (housemate!harry series)

[thekidthesuperkid]

No but actually I love how central Crystal is to the story. She's the only reason the group ever goes to Port Townsend and therefore the only reason most of the plot even happens.

Even if you're just watching the show with shipping goggles (a lot of people let's be honest) you still can't extract Crystal from the story. She's the only reason Charles and Edwin go to Port Townsend, but also her arrival into the boys' dynamic shakes it up enough for it to start changing. She's the one who finds out about Charles' dad and then pushes Edwin to figure out what Charles has been hiding from him. She's also the one who pushes Charles to recognize his own repressed emotions and to deal with them. She's central to Charles' character arc over the show, and even though she's not as central to Edwin's character arc, she's still a catalyst. Niko, the Cat King, and Monty are more directly important to Edwin's arc, but Edwin and Charles never would have met and helped Niko if it hadn't been for Crystal (Niko likely would have just died from the sprites alone and this is deeply sad to think about), and Edwin also would never have met either the Cat King or Monty without being in Port Townsend. (Monty probably would have never become human.) Maybe if things had been different Edwin still would have been dragged back to Hell, but Charles would have had to find a different way to rescue him. The Night Nurse was only there to open the door to Hell because Charles and Edwin were stuck in Port Townsend long enough for her to track them down, and on top of that she was only able to track them down because of their connections to living humans (Jenny) through Crystal. And then Edwin's confession on the staircase was only really possible because of the realizations about himself that he had beforehand because of the influences of Monty and Niko and the Cat King. Crystal called Edwin and Charles a dead married couple on acid and that basically what they were: they had been together for so long with just each other, and they were so familiar with each other that their dynamic had become habit and they were taking for granted the things they thought they knew about each other...Charles is the happy one and isn't haunted by his past the way that Edwin is, Edwin isn't interested in romance and connecting with living people, etc. Crystal, and then Niko and their other friends as well, showed up and brought in a new perspective on their relationship and their lives and their problems, which allowed them to develop their relationship in new areas.

Independently of the boys' relationship though, Crystal's story is really done so satisfyingly. Her character arc of figuring out who she is is unfinished, but already it's cool how the story builds the contrast of who she is now versus who she was before her memories were stolen, where one of the biggest differences between the two versions of herself is whether she has people in her corner who truly care about her and support her, and whether she has people she cares about in return. She's also the only one able to defeat Esther in the end. The Elemental would have just swallowed Charles and Edwin without her, and summoning Lillith was something only she could do. And it's really cool how her role in the story creates a theme of connection to other people being vital. She forces Edwin and Charles (mainly Edwin) to interact more with living people, through getting them to take cases for living people and by being a way to get information from the living more easily, which ends up causing some bad things for them but also causes a lot of good things too. Like she brings in Niko, who is the reason Charles and Edwin don't get separated after returning from Hell. And even her powers rely on being able to connect with her roots and her heritage and her self. The way that ties into themes of identity are very interesting as well.

TLDR: I really like way the story used Crystal and I'm excited to see where her story goes if there's a season 2.

[house-of-slayterr]

Arcane x Little Reader:

Jinx:

Jinx is overjoyed to have another little around. Now she’s not the only one that gets it. Violet was her go to when she was younger and still regressing. But now that she’s older, she relies on Silco when she’s regressed. She doesn’t do well being little and alone.

But now she has you, a friend she can share this experience with. Jinx isn’t known to share, but yorue the exception. She loves drawing with you, sketching so many designs for her next projects. Or she’ll just straight up draw you in cute little outfits she thought up. She loves to draw all over your arms to give you temporary tattoos.

She loves to play and run and explore when she’s little. She’ll drag you everywhere with her, like you’re her favourite teddy bear. Depending on how young you regress, she’ll treat you more genetly. Baby regressors get to see the softest side of Jinx, and get the most of her attention.

If jinx is big when you’re little, she gets highly protective. Nothing hurts her little firecracker. She’s not as good as Sevika as shielding your from danger and trauma, as she was never shielded when she was younger. But she’s good at helping you deal with the after. She’ll even let people go if you’re scared enough, just to come check on you quicker to make sure you’re ok. The only person jinx shares little time with is Ekko, he’s the only one she trusts to look after you when you’re like this.

Silco:

Silco wasn’t new to this, as he already has Jinx. But he knew better than to treat the two of you the same. Jinx was fragile in a sense, but you don’t have to be so delicate with her. Jinx has seen his outburst, even when small, but you, he never dared to lash out near you.

If anyone made you cry or hurt you, lord help them. Their end would come violent and swift, no hesitation. He doesn’t mess around when it comes to your safety and wellbeing. If you’re upset enough, he’ll stay with you and send Jinx to deal with it.

He loves to hold you in his lap, if you’re quiet, he enjoys the peace. But if you’re a talker, he doesn’t mind that either, so long as it’s your voice, he’ll listen. He’s tender with you and doesn’t care who sees or if it “hurts his reputation”. He made some mistakes with Jinx that he doesn’t want to risk with you.

Safe to say you have everything you want with Silco as a caretaker. He’d give the world to you if he could.

Isha:

Isha adores you so so much. She’s so happy to have another friend to play with, especially if jinx is busy. She loves to play with your hair and paint your face. Depending on the age you regress to, if you’re a little older she loves to play games.

You’ll run and play tag, or hide and seek, or try to pull little pranks on Jinx or Sevika. But if you regress younger than her, she’ll act out stories for you, or make little sock puppets to keep your attention.

Isha is the best if you get hurt, because she knows how to stop your tears. She’ll crawl into your lap and try to get you to rock with her. Which usually ends up with the two of you asleep wherever you are, cuddled up together.

Isha loves to match you during little time. She’ll play dress up or copy your actions playing mimic. You’re her best friend ever, and she loves regression time.

Sevika:

Sevika was surprised at first. It took some explaining on your part for her to understand what was happening. You were worried at first it would creep her out, or make her think less of you. But all it did was make her more protective and jealous.

If anyone steals her baby’s attention, she’s fuming, she hates to share. She’s gotten into fight over you, some just small verbal spares where she’d try to hold her tongue to not swear infront of you. She usually tries to keep her tone low around you, especially when talking directly to you. But sometimes she still loses her cool. If anyone dares to speak bad about you, or worse, hurt you, well let’s just say you never see them again.

She’ll ask you to put on “eye covers” if she has to hurt someone so you won’t have to watch, and get more trauma. The thought of you being scared or sad, makes her skin crawl.

She’s ALWAYS carrying you when you’re big or little. As a caregiver it makes her feel safe to know you’re so close, and it makes her feel strong. Doesn’t matter what she’s doing, she will not reject an Uppies request. And she loves to sleep with you cuddled on her chest. You’re the most important thing in her world.

Viktor:

Viktor was quick to learn about your regressor tendencies, he’s a very observant man. When he isn’t working on his Hex Tech, he’s watching you. His best friend and the person he loves more than anything.

He started noticing you got cranky when you were tired, a trait you shared with Jayce, but he quickly realised it was more intense than that. It was a simple crankiness and a good nap always solved it. You’d be back to your normal self like nothing was wrong.

Then he’d notice you get quiet, your usually chatty self would withdraw as you got sucked into your own daydreams. Or how you’d get excited if something you liked was mentioned. He found most of your quirks quite adorable.

But the first day you fully regressed infront of him he understood, everything about you made sense. He sees you so small and fragile and wants to do anything to keep you safe from the scary things in the world. He’ll hold you close in the lab, or if you have to sit in the corner because something him and jayce are working on isn’t safe, he’ll give you his lab coat or let you play with his cane if he’s seated.

He takes more breaks if you’re little for a while, coming to check on you and play with you and your plushies for a few mins, or ask you engaging questions to keep your brain stimulated. He thinks you’re the smartest little he’s ever met.

A few times jayce has had to warp a blanket around the two of you because Viktor stayed late in the lab and you refused to leave without him. He’d sleep so peacefully with his little one safe in his arm.

“Little miracle” is what he calls you, because he finds it amazing how strong you can be despite your regression.

An: I know these are short, but I’m still getting back into writing lol

Tag: @mothmans-kingdom @kados-of-chaos

[stellargh0ul]

hiii feel free to ignore this, but what if:

Perpetua's some small town local urban legend/cryptid that people aren't really sure exists or not, but still speak about in whispers whenever someone goes missing. And you aren't sure he's real either...until you encounter him in a graveyard at night alone.

Anyways that it! Have a good day/night!

Now with part 2!

Perpetua: is this a meet cute?

Reader: shaking, crying, throwing up

-

la creatura, they called it. something that slunk through the shadows of the night on talons and hooves, taking all who were unlucky enough to come across it back to it’s lair to devour.

you’d never believed the stories, of course- there was something so cartoonish about the way the creature was described, with huge red eyes and fangs that overhung it’s bottom lip like tusks. you were one for rationality, and never believed in something that couldn’t be explained by science.

and so, when you came face to face with something feeding on a deer carcass in the graveyard one night, your first thought was some sort of large wild animal- until you saw the red eyes, and the tusks that extended from it’s bottom lip stained with blood.

as the grave keeper, you’d never found any reason to fear walking in the graves at night: but now, as you stare at this monster crouched among the headstones, you feel your stomach drop.

a certainty settles over you, as thick as a blanket but far less comforting. you’re going to die here.

except, the monster leans back from the carcass as it pins you with a stare, and raises one hand to wipe the blood away. you see the claws on the ends of it’s spindly fingers, razor-sharp and catching in the moonlight.

“scusi,” it says, in a hissing rasp. “I did not expect there to be anyone else out here.”

you feel your legs collapse underneath you and you slump to your knees as it makes a noise of alarm. on legs that are far too long for the rest of it’s body, it crawls over to you on all fours and you can’t even scream at the unnatural way it moves over the headstones as if they were mere rocks in the road.

“are you alright?”

hysterical, you giggle in its face.

“i’m about to die, so… no.”

it leans away from you, frowning.

“I will not harm you. I have had my meal for the night.”

your gaze wanders over to the gutted deer in the middle of the walkway. you have an awful vision of yourself lying among the graves in exactly the same way for some poor unlucky soul to find in the morning.

it follows your eyes and nods.

“si. I am full, you do not need to worry.”

“and if you weren’t full?”

pausing, it regards you with a quiet, thoughtful expression. then, a smile breaks across it’s face and you almost scream at the sight of the blood caught in the dagger-like needles it calls teeth.

“well, I suppose i’d have to drag you back to my lair and eat you.” you can’t tell if it’s joking or not.

with shaking hands, you reach up to cradle your face, fighting back the hiccuping sob that threatens to worm it’s way from your mouth.

somehow, you think it’s expression is somewhat sad as it regards you with those huge eyes.

“I will leave.”

it turns to go and you exhale a huge breath of air.

“maybe I see you again sometime. seem nice.”

as la creatura fades back into the shadows of the night, you feel numb. exhausted, somehow, as if you’d just run a marathon.

you hope it was joking about seeing you again, but you couldn’t quite tell.

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

The More You Give ❧ (Part VIII)

Pairing | Eddie x shy!reader Warnings | 18+ only. Do not interact if you are underage. Roleplay (PrincessxWannabe Usurper lmao), sexual fantasies (including rockstarxgroupie), Eddie says some weird possessive stuff but reader likes it, oral (M receiving), P in V sex, dom!Eddie, sexual guilt as per, there’s aftercare. Word Count | 10,400 A/N | Nobody ask me about the timeline of this story, either in the fic or how long it takes me to write it. Taglist Previous Chapter

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦  

The air is stuffy, despite the growing chill outside. The last days of Summer are at least a week gone now, and with Autumn comes heated stores. An ABBA song is playing on the main floor, filtering through enough for you to make out the tune. It’s the sort of thing your Mom plays in the car all the time, your mind following the words even though you can’t quite hear them over the buzzing ceiling lights. 

I try to capture every minute, the feeling in it. Slipping through my fingers- 

The curtains pull back, the sound of metal over metal dragging you to full attention. May’s eyes are bright with excitement as she twirls, showing off how the strapless black dress fits around her waist and flares out at her hips. 

“It’s perfect, right?” She says, smoothing it down only to twirl and puff the skirt up again. “Ooh, let me see with the jacket.” 

You search through the bag at your feet for the cropped jacket she’d found earlier, then watch as she pulls it over her shoulders. She fluffs her hair and poses in the mirror at the end of the changing room hallway. “I mean it actually is perfect, right?”

“For sure, you can totally see who you are already.” 

“Right? And then I can just backcomb my hair a little. My Mom’s gonna lend me her scarf. God knows what earrings I’ll wear, but I can work it out. Definitely can’t get anything new after this,” she finishes, turning her head and pulling at the tag on her back to double check the price. She pulls a face before tucking it away gingerly.

“That bad?” 

“That bad. Even with 30% off.” May smooths her hands over the skirt again, turning once more to the mirror. Her smile lights up her pretty face. “But totally worth it.” 

Once the dress is folded and wrapped in tissue paper by the woman at the counter, paid for with what seems like every spare penny in May’s purse, attention moves to your costume. “Okay, Fairy God Mother,” May says, linking her arm with yours. “Game plan. Where do we need to go?”

“I think just the costume store. I have a blue dress I can use. But I’d like some wings and a wand. Maybe a tiara, if I can afford it.”

“Ugh, you’re gonna look so cute. Are you sure you don’t want to come to Tommy’s party?”

“The whole reason I’m dressing up is for Grace,” you reason, spotting the orange banner reading City of Fright, which appears in the same spot every year mid-September and vanishes November first. 

Gone are ABBA’s lilting tones, replaced with stock Halloween music, the occasional creepy laugh and thunder clap. The entire front of the store is complete costumes, wrapped up in plastic and hanging on metal rods, but once you reach the shelves at the back, you are surrounded by an array of vampire teeth, witches hats and face paints. 

“Eddie’s renting Theatre of Blood,” you tell her, not waiting for a reaction before launching into a prepared defence. “It sounds really good. It’s about an actor who takes revenge on his critics by murdering them like Shakespearian deaths - drowning in Malmsey wine, that kind of thing. He picked it cause, you know, he thought I’d like it.” 

“Okay, but she’ll be in bed by what? Eight?” May asks, wandering around the table of paraphernalia as you start thumbing through fairy wings piled next to fake blood bags, searching for the right blue. “You could come after.”

There’s a moment of silence, then she sighs softly. “Okay, I will say it’s kind of cute that he picked that. In a weird, not really that cute cause it’s a horror movie about gruesome murders, sort of way.” 

You stifle a grin, chancing a look at her over the table. “That sounded…almost like a compliment?”

“Almost,” she agrees, walking back round to your side. Then, before you can answer, she has seized a shiny silver plastic tiara and is reaching out to place it gently on your hair. “There. Fit for a Princess.”

You shake your head, laughing. “What about a Fairy Godmother?”

May hums, grabbing a set of the net and wire wings and pulling them over her arms. “I’m the fairy now!” She declares, raising her chin and going up on tiptoes to whirl around the racks, wings shaking behind her. “Here to make all your Halloween costume dreams come true!” 

Your heart warms, a giggle escaping as she peers curiously at the rubber masks and cat ears in character, mumbling about the strange habits of humans. 

“Oh please, fairy godmother! I need a wand if I’m going to look anything like the real thing!” 

“A wand, of course!” She cries dramatically. “No true fairy would be seen dead without their wand.” You watch her scurry on tip toe around until she comes to a display of wands of various colours, topped by stars and hearts, sequined tassels and glittery handles. She wiggles her fingers above them, picks out one with a simple silver star and travels back to you gracefully. You take it from her with a flourish. “There, and now your wings.” She helps you into your own pair, then turns and throws a graceful hand into the air. “Now, we fly!” 

You flit about after her, laughing at her with every pause she takes to frown disapprovingly at fake scars and rubber spiders. She stops in front of a Tinkerbell costume, pointing with a surprised smile at the model on the package. “Hey, I know her!”

You snort a laugh and it sets her off, all attempts to stifle your laughter only making it worse. Your giggles are only beginning to settle when you feel the sudden awareness of being watched tickle the back of your neck. 

“Uh, hi girls.” 

Your heart drops. Caroline stands, a hand over her mouth, barely covering the smirk. “You look like you’re having…fun.”

Suddenly, the clear elastic of the wings is too tight around your shoulders. You can feel the crooked angle of the tiara atop your head, close to slipping off entirely. The wand in your hand isn’t silver now, just chipped paint on plastic. 

Next to you, May is wrenching off her wings, laughing airily. “Just messing around,” she assures, folding them up and holding them with a tight fist at her hip. “You costume shopping?”

Caroline looks around at where you are. “I mean, obviously. Not for me, though, for Ethan,” she sighs. “You know boys, no interest in shopping.” She sets her stare on you, eyes scanning from the crooked tiara downwards. “Are you girls dressing up together?”

Your throat feels blocked, leaving you just to shake your head. May answers for you both. “No, no. Like I said, we’re just messing around. So we should probably put this stuff back.” She slides her wings into the space between some hanging masks before elbowing you into action. You’ve abandoned the tiara and wand and are in the process of sliding off the wings when she adds, coolly, “I’m actually going as Madonna.”

Caroline’s smirk falls, replaced at terrifying speed with a deep frown. “What? You can’t, I’m doing Madonna. I’ve got a veil and everything. Ethan’s going to be Sean Penn.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m going as her in Desperately Seeking Susan, so it’ll be, like, totally different.”

“But I don’t think there should be two Madonna’s,” Caroline continues, almost sounding sympathetic. She crosses her arms, shrugging. “You’ll just have to go as somebody else.”

“Oh,” May says, shoulders falling. “Um, right. I get what you mean.”

You’re not in the habit of arguing with Caroline. It’s been easier, historically, not to contradict her or answer back. But you can feel May deflating beside you, and it tumbles out. “But you won’t look similar or anything, they’re completely different costumes.”

“They’re not though.” She answers with finality. “They’re both Madonna, and the last thing we want is comparisons, right? People talking about who wears it better all night?”

May nods. “You’re right. Totally. I’ll think of something else. No worries.”

“But May, your dress! You can’t return it now, it was on sale!” 

“It’s fine,” May snaps before smiling close mouthed at Caroline. “I can find something else to wear, no issue.”

“You could be fairies together!” Caroline says. “I bet the guys at Tommy’s party would love that.”

“No, no, like I said, we were just messing around,” May says. “Not really my thing. And anyway, she’s not coming on Friday.”

“Oh no!” Caroline pushes her bottom lip out into a pout. “But I haven’t seen you outside of school in ages!”

“I’m babysitting,” you explain, clutching your removed wings in your fists. 

“Oh sure you are, not spending the night with your boyfriend. We hardly see you anymore, I feel like there must be so much detail we’ve all been missing out on. You’ll have to come on the next girls trip, right May? So we can hear all about you and…Eddie.”

Your heart pounds as May nods. “Yeah,” she answers. “Eddie can’t have all your time.”

“Perfect. Well, let me know what you end up doing, May! See you later, girls!”

She flounces away, and May hides her face in her hands. “I can’t believe she saw me doing that.” 

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not!” She says, throwing her hands up. Her eyes shine with frustrated tears. “It’s not okay! Not for me, anyway. It’s different for you, people already think you’re weird.” 

You blink at your friend. Then you look down at the speckled linoleum floor, watch the spots fuzz and blend into each other as the lump in your throat builds. Before five seconds have passed, her arms appear at your sides, pulling you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean that.”

But you know that she did. You know that’s exactly what she thinks. 

For the moment you have to think about what you say now, you imagine calling her out on this. Pushing her away and telling her that she doesn’t have to spend any more time with you, given you embarrass her so much. You’d buy your fairy wings and your crown, walk out with your head held high. 

Maybe she’d call after you, apologise again, say that losing you isn’t worth impressing Caroline or sitting at the cheerleader table.

But maybe any pain she’d feel at the prospect of your friendship ending would only bring out her anger. Maybe she’d swear to never speak to you again. 

If you were somebody else, someone who didn’t love May, maybe you’d take that risk. But you are you, and you’ve loved May since you were five. To you, the only thing worse than feeling hurt yourself is the thought of hurting her back.

So you shake your head at her shoulder, blink away tears and squeeze her tight in your arms. “It’s okay,” you whisper. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, pulling away from her collar that smells the way being seven smelled. You release her, and in turn her arms fall from you. “I get it, you’re just stressed.”

“I know! I don’t know what I’m going to do about my costume!” 

Your heart pangs. You swallow the lump in your throat that’s trying to rise back up. “Well, at least the dress is black,” you say, sniffing quick and quiet. You drag your hands over your eyes, clearing away the wetness clinging to your bottom lashes. Stop it, you think. Stop crying. “Let’s return the jacket, yeah? Then you’ll have money for a witch hat or something.” 

May nods slowly as she thinks it through. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, that works.” She gives you a relieved smile. “God, what would I do without you? Let’s go.”

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦  

“Well, I didn’t think I wanted glasses because Katie has glasses,” Grace explains, holding her plastic pumpkin, now close to overflowing with candy, in both hands at her stomach. She looks at you with a look too knowing for a seven year old, then continues. “Katie is a tattle tale.”

“I see,” you nod. 

“But I want ones like Jessica’s!” She cries, arms extending with the weight of her treasure trove before she pulls it back up. “They go dark in the sun!”

“It’s not the same,” she whines. “And then when we went to the optom- uhm.”

“But you already have sunglasses,” you reason, picturing the little red plastic pair you’ve had to run back for when out on walks many times. Grace hefts the pumpkin again and you give in, lifting the bag from her grasp and burying your wand in with the candy. You soften when she grabs your hand with a deep sigh.

“The optometrist?”

“Yeah, when we went to see him, he said my eyes were perfect!”

“Well, that’s good.”

“No!” She yells, dramatically, pulling on your arm with her whole weight until you have to  heave yourself back up. You stifle a giggle at her distraught expression. “Because now I’ll never get glasses, and everybody has them.”

“Well, first of all, I’m sure not everybody has them,” you say, smiling down at her grumpy face. “And secondly, you shouldn’t just want something like glasses because other people have them, even if it was everybody else. You can’t just live your life just trying to be like everyone around you.”

“I know,” she mumbles. Then, catching your raised eyebrow, “I know!”

You round the corner to her street, and by the time you’re approaching her house, she’s moved comfortably on to the next topic of her candy eating schedule for the next three days. “Because Jessica saves all her Skittles for last,” Grace explains, her position now firmly against being anything like Jessica. “Which is stupid, because you should have the best candy first.”

“Mm? Why’s that?”

Grace looks at you with a frown. “Because the best comes first,” she tells you, with the tone of somebody kindly trying to hold in their frustration with an imbecile. 

“Of course, silly of me to ask. Hi, Mrs. Miller!”

Grace’s Mom was clearly waiting for you near the front door, already out and standing on the front steps as you walk up the front path. Grace holds her hands out to take her bucket back, launching forward when she’s got ahold of it. “Mom! Look at all my candy!”

“Whoa! There’s no way you’ll be able to eat all that!” Her Mom says, eyes comically wide. “Think you need someone to help you out, hm?”

Grace shrieks indignantly, running under her Mom’s arm inside and clambering up the stairs out of sight without a bye nor leave for you. 

“Everything went okay?” Her Mom asks, smiling when you give her your usual answer, all fine. “Will you be okay getting home? I can get her back down if you need a ride.”

“Oh, um,” you check either side of the street, feeling suddenly warmed inside at the sight of Eddie’s van parked at the end of the road. Now that you’re concentrating on it, you’re sure you can hear the music blasting behind glass. “No, it’s okay. That’s my boyfriend.”

“Ah, Eddie.” She smiles, then smacks her teeth as she, too, registers his music. “Maybe tell him to keep it down next time? I don’t mind but I already get monthly phone calls from Mrs O’Hara about the sound of the lawnmower.” 

“Oh, sorry. I’ll do that,” 

“Okay,” she says, calling after you as you start up a fast pace towards Eddie. “You have a good night!”

You pull your cardigan sleeves down over your hands to fight the chill as you move, smiling when you can properly make out Eddie sitting in the front seat. He had a special D&D night planned when he dropped you off at Grace’s earlier. While your costume sat folded in your bag all day, he’d gone to school dressed all in black, even his white Reeboks swapped out for a pair of knockoff doc martens he’d launched himself towards when he caught sight of them at the thrift store. They’d fit him just fine with three pairs of socks.

This morning, sitting in his van, he’d barely managed to control his excited twitches while you lined his eyes with a cheap black pencil from the drugstore. Your work is a little smudged now, but on him, it looks even better than before. Which makes sense, you think. Eddie doesn’t suit neat lines. 

“Hi Princess!” He calls, turning the music down enough that his excitement is just audible through the glass as you approach. 

“Not a Princess,” you remind him as you climb in, turning your back to shake your shoulders and display the blue net wings. “A Fairy God Mother.” You settle back into the seat, shivering away the chill that had gooseflesh rising over your body. Eddie rubs your arm over your cardigan, and you take the opportunity to grab his hand. As much as you want to warm your cold fingers, it’s mainly just to touch him. “How was the game?”

His grin turns sharp as he leans back in his chair, chin tilted up. “So fucking good. I have them right where I want them. I thought for a second Lucas had me worked out. He hesitated when they were getting to the caves, but then he just went along with it. I can’t wait till next week.” He lets go of your hand long enough to start up the van before returning his open palm to the space between you for you to take hold of him again. “How is Princess Grace?”

“Increasingly despotic. She executed like five of her toys before we went out trick or treating.” 

“Jesus,” Eddie laughs. “What for?” 

“Well, her not-so-wise Fairy God Mother,” you start, gesturing to yourself. “Made the mistake of telling her about royal food tasters? Now there’s a poisoning attempt every few days.” 

“Very active imagination, this girl. Violent, but active.”

“Mm, I think most girls play that way. When I was little- Well, me and May, we’d act like witches sometimes? And make potions out of mud and sticks and stuff. And talk about who we would curse.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “And which poor soul had earned this spite, pray tell?” 

“Did you ever have Mr Gilmour?”

“Oh, Gilmour, yeah, I fuckin' hated that guy!” Eddie yells. His eyebrows furrow. “I threw up during gym in seventh grade and the sadistic prick made me finish running a mile.” 

“Yeah, I forgot about that till now.” His brows stay taught for a second longer, then he shakes his head a little, tapping his fingers along your knuckles. “Too bad I didn’t have you around then, coulda cursed him for me a little earlier.”

“Oh, Eddie, that’s horrible.”

“I would have,” you promise. “But you were telling me about the game. Did you get Dustin with the, um, venom troll?”

“Not yet. We didn’t get as far as I’d have wanted before they had to go. I mean, what fourteen year old has a curfew? I didn’t, and I turned out alright. But I’ll get him next week. I can’t wait to see his face - that little punk thinks he’s so smart, but he is pre-dictable.”

Eddie continues describing the campaign, the traps he’s set for them that he’s sure they’ll run into, the whole drive to his place, excited and animated as he usually is on the rare occasion you get to see him after Hellfire, wound up from the events of the day. He only slows down when you’re settled on his couch. Sneakers left at the door, wings, tiara, and wand abandoned on the kitchen table, wrapped up in his arms as the opening titles of Theatre of Blood play. 

Eddie’s so warm, and unusually still when you sit with him like this. Being cuddled up to him puts you in mind of your aunt’s black cat. She spends the first couple hours of every visit pretending that she isn’t interested in being anywhere near you. Then, after letting her sniff your hand, rubbing gently between her ears, she darts up on your lap, her soft heat spreading through you. 

Eddie might not admit it, at least not verbally, but he likes being petted the same way. You’ve seen his eyes flutter when you play with his hair, heard the gentle sighs he lets out when you touch his cheek. Now, leaning into his chest, rubbing lazily at his torso, you can feel the way his body relaxes into the couch under your touch. It makes you smile at the TV even as Vincent Price swears revenge on all his critics.

You turn your head just a little, trying to be subtle as much as possible so you can look at him properly. Eddie’s eyes, which in sunlight can be bright as copper, are dark and focused in the electric light of the TV. The light freckles that dotted the tops of his cheeks and nose during Summer have faded from the cloudy days and early sunsets, leaving only his soft pale skin. His lips, as always, are soft looking and pink, still shiny from the last time his tongue peeked out, set in a near constant subtle pout. 

You sigh gently, and in turn breathe in the remnants of smoke and laundry detergent from his shirt, the fading spice of his drugstore aftershave.

“You know I picked this movie out special,” he says, only his eyes moving to fix you with a mockingly suspicious expression. “Vincent’s a master.”

You’re surprised to find you’re not ashamed at having been caught. “M’just looking at you.”

“Therein lies the problem, sweet thing. One minute you’re just looking. Next thing I know my head’s trapped between your thighs.” This time he leans in properly. “Wicked temptress.” He whispers it, his breath warming your face. 

You think he’ll kiss you then, but instead he relaxes back into the couch with a sigh. “M’just lucky you weren’t dressed up all day.” His hand tugs at the hem of your skirt, then spreads out just above your knee. “I wouldn’t have been able to think about anything else. It’s a miracle I even got the movie playing instead of trying to touch you.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” you answer, trying not to sound too eager. 

“I bet,” he says, eyes shining. Then his face turns serious, palm coming to his heart. “But Eddie the Chivalrous would never touch a Princess without properly wooing her first.” His eyes scan over your face quickly. “I guess that means we need to finish the movie.”

He’s teasing you. He wants to push, see how much he can get you to say, if you’ll ask him outright to just touch you the way you want. Warring feelings compete to decide what you do next. Maybe months ago, when you first started dating Eddie, you would have pressed your thighs together and settled in to finish the film. A part of you still calls for that, screams that whatever you say won’t be right. 

You stare at Eddie now. His eyes still lined dark, the smirk he’s trying to hide. Your toes curl just looking at him, and the thought escapes naturally. “You don’t look like Eddie the Chivalrous, right now.” 

Eddie blinks slowly. His head tilts. “No? Who do I look like, then?” 

Now, something like shame creeps back in, and you wish you’d just settled down to watch the movie.

You haven’t ever put a name to it before. In your fantasies, the ones that appear unprompted when you’re alone in your bed and you haven’t been able to touch him in a couple days, Eddie’s always Eddie, but sometimes just a little different. 

Maybe Eddie the Chivalrous is the right name for how you first thought about him like that, calling you Princess as usual but meaning it. You thought about him as your knight and guard, sworn to protect you, breaking all the rules by laying you down and treating you gently, better than any lord or Prince you could be promised to.

Then you’d think about his laugh, the one that comes out when you moan a little loud, or lose your patience and try to direct his hands or his tongue to where you need him. The mocking gasp and teasing tone that often comes along with it, you want it bad, huh, Princess? You think about an Eddie who’s like that all the time, teasingly mean with you, dark and dangerous to everyone else, finding you alone in your soft bed, holding your hands above your head and- and-

People already think you’re weird.

You give in to the sudden hot shame, pressing your face to Eddie’s chest lest he read your expression so perfectly that he works it all out. You whisper into his shirt, more to yourself than him. “I’m so weird.” 

“Well, s’a good thing you’re with me then, mm?” He says, big hand moving to stroke the back of your neck. “Cause if you got a fantasy, like, something you think about when I’m not around. You know I won’t judge you for it, right?” 

“I know.” It comes out muffled against his shirt but it’s certain. It’s instinctual, now. You’re as sure that you don’t need to worry about Eddie judging you as you are that the sun will rise tomorrow morning. More and more, you find yourself talking to him the way you talk to yourself in your head. Easy and free, not waiting for the other shoe to drop. But this is different. “It’s just- It’s like-” You sigh, searching for the words that won’t come. 

He hums, still rubbing your neck. “Maybe I could- I mean, do you…wanna hear one ‘a mine?” You emerge from your hiding place, leaning back into his hand to gauge how serious he is. Eddie’s eyes crinkle at the sides at having coaxed you into looking at him again. “Yeah?”  

“Okay.” 

“Okay,” he echoes. Eddie searches his side for the remote first, pausing Vincent in the middle of another monologue. “Okay. Well, yeah, sometimes I think about- Wait no, gotta set the scene. I’ve just played maybe the best show of my life. Nothing too big,” he continues, giving you a serious look. “I’m not a sell out. We’re talking the smaller arenas, you know? Anyway, after, when I get backstage, feeling like hot shit, there’s this girl. Prettiest I’ve ever seen. And she’s wearing the band’s shirt.”

“And she’s a little shy. Can barely look me in the eye-” He catches you just as your gaze moves to his collar, pulling you back to staring, helpless, into his dark eyes. Eddie takes your hand from where it was playing with the hem of his shirt, weaving your fingers together. “She’s kinda fidgety, too.”

You swallow. “Me?”

“You, sweet thing. S’always you.” You bite the gum behind your bottom lip, holding back from grinning too much. You squirm a little under his gaze, waiting for him to speak again. “And you tell me you’ve been waiting for me,” Eddie says, voice smooth and quiet. “You tell me you’re my biggest fan. And you can’t quite say everything you wanna say, but it doesn’t matter, cause I’ve got you worked out. So I get real close,” he says, his face disappearing as his mouth moves towards your ear, “and I ask if you want me to touch you?”

“And I do,” you continue for him, shivering again at the little groan Eddie lets escape from his throat. 

“Mm hm, real bad.” His eyes reappear, scanning over each part of your face. “So bad you wanna earn it. Wanna show me I was right to pick you and not some other girl. You get on your knees for me.” Eddie licks his lips quick. “And I know you’re kinda inexperienced, but it’s good, the best I’ve ever had. You know why?” You shake your head, gaze darting between his eyes and his mouth. You watch his lips move around his words. “Cause you’re so fucking grateful for it.” 

“Mm. And when I decide you’ve earned it, I lay you back on a couch somewhere. A green room or a tour bus or something. And I show you you were right to wait for me.” You shiver. It’s a delicious thrill to picture Eddie that way, completely new to you, a total stranger, yet so sure of what he can take. “And after that?” He says, giving the back of your neck a squeeze. “I keep you.”

“Eddie.” You feel your heartbeat between your legs, wishing he would touch you there now, or even put you on your knees the way he wants so you could show him you’re as grateful for him here and now as you are in his fantasy. 

The fantasy fades when Eddie kisses you. With the press of his lips, the taste of Dr Pepper on his tongue, he’s your Eddie again, familiar and perfect. You’re still floating back to Earth when he pulls away. “Your turn.”

You flinch, crashing to the ground instead. “What?”

“You like Latin, right? It’s quid pro quo, sweetheart. I show you mine, you show me yours. Tit for tat. That was the deal.”

“It was implied.” Eddie answers breezily. Then, with his thumb rubbing gently at the back of your hand. “C’mon. Try? You liked mine, right?” You give a barely noticeable nod, but Eddie catches it. “Yeah. And I bet I’ll like yours.”

“There was no deal!”

“I can’t- I don’t have it all, like, thought out the way you do.”

“Well, I’m a storyteller by trade,” he says, pressing his free hand to his chest. “All my sex fantasies have lore. And we can build on yours, if it needs it.Alright. I’m not Eddie the Chivalrous right now. Who am I?” He tilts his chin to where you have started playing with his rings, twisting each round his fingers in turn. “Apart from Eddie the Stress Toy.”

“It’s not- You’re just-” You swallow, rubbing your thumb over the metal skull sitting where a wedding ring would go. “You’re just somebody…somebody I shouldn’t want.”

“Intriguing. And you are?” Your face flames. You mumble it, barely opening your lips, and Eddie squints. “Mm?”

You sigh. “Princess.”

“Always,” Eddie replies, ducking his head to make sure you see his face, reassuringly still smiling. “Okay. I can work with this. Maybe I'm…Eddie the Banished. I tried to take power for myself by force but I failed.” He brings your hand to his mouth, kisses the thin skin at your wrist. “And I’ve returned, because I realised I don’t need to win a battle. I just have to…take the Princess?”

You clench around nothing. “Yeah.”

“Fuck, yeah. C’mon, sweet thing.” 

Your gaze follows him as he stands. “You want- Right now?”

“Why not? We’re all dressed up. The time is now.” Eddie pauses his excitement when he registers the fact you’re still sitting. “If…if you want.”

“I do,” you breathe. “But I can’t, y’know, talk like you.” You just know Eddie already has some dialogue thought up, things he can say as the character he’s just come up with that will make you dizzy. “I’ll get stuck.”

“Maybe you will, maybe you won’t,” Eddie says, squatting down in front of you, hands spread out on your knees. “I don’t mind taking the lead. Besides, the Princess would be kinda nervous anyway, right? If you’re not supposed to want me. The outlaw, the traitor. You’ve been told about all the terrible things I’ve done, what I tried to do for power. Now you feel guilty about what you really want from me. And I’ve been thinking about you while I’ve been on the run, living rough- You know, this is good stuff,” he says, interrupting himself and looking round. “You got a pen? I should maybe write some of this down- No. After, sorry.” He gives you a sheepish grin, then leans in close. “Don’t think there’s much chance I’ll forget this, anyway.” 

He stands then, hand extended to you with wiggling fingers for you to take and let him guide you through to his room. Eddie hums when his door is closed, shutting out the world beyond the frame. “Shoulda done this at yours,” he says, sitting you down on the mattress. “In your pretty Princess bed.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say breathlessly, meaning it entirely. All that matters is it’s him. He’s the only person you could do something like this with. 

“Okay, I need a little more. You shouldn’t want me, I’m…morally grey, let’s say. Chaotic neutral. Am I mean?”

“Kinda,” you answer. “You’re…selfish?”

“Selfish,” he repeats. 

“Just like, y’know. It’s like-” Eddie’s hands spread at the sides of your thighs, teasing the skin at the hem of your skirt. You want them everywhere. “You know I want you. That I’ll…do things for you. And you take advantage. ”

There’s a pause. “I think I’m following. Things somebody like you shouldn’t do?” You nod quickly, cheeks burning as you watch him work it out. “You wanna get your mouth on me, Princess?”

You fight the instinct to hide, the urge to look away, the voice telling you to deny everything, take it back. Instead, you start playing with the hem of his shirt again, soft cotton between your fingers.  

“Mm hm.”

“Shit. Okay. Anything-” His voice cracks a touch, and he clears his throat before he speaks again. “Anything else?”

“It’s not like- Even though you’re mean, you still- With me, you feel-” Now you do have to look away, staring at where your fingers are fiddling with the black fabric. He can read you too well, and you don’t want him to see exactly what you want from him. “You-”

You love me. 

“I feel…how I feel about you?” He suggests.

You bite the gum behind your lip to stop yourself asking exactly what that means. “Yeah.”

“Okay, good. Hard to pretend anything else.” Eddie leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips, long enough that your whole body relaxes into it, your mind settling on Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. When he pulls away, it’s easy to answer his question. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Eddie stands to full height, his shoulders back. He tilts his head, expression shifting. From your Eddie, with chestnut eyes and his perfect, dimpled smile, to a smirking man with a dark gaze excited to ruin you. 

“I’ve been looking for you, Princess,” he says, voice smooth and confident. A thrilled shiver runs up your spine. “Knew I’d find you eventually, but I could only hope I’d find you like this. All alone.” He takes a step towards you. “Unprotected-”

“Eddie,” you whisper. 

Softness peaks through with raised eyebrows. “Good?” You nod quickly, and it disappears again as he slinks closer towards you. “I missed you, while I was away,” he tells you, soft and teasing. “Did you miss me?”

“I-” You swallow. You’re used to repeating back what Eddie says to you, in times like this, letting him guide you through everything he wants to hear from you. But you don’t want to just watch him do this for you. “No.”

Eddie blinks, surprised, then he puts on a mockingly hurt face, hand over his heart. “No? You wound me, Princess.” That same hand reaches for your face, cupping your cheek. His thumb strokes gently under your eye and you can’t help but lean into him. “Or you would, if I believed you.” He tilts your head up to see him properly, standing over you. “You think I didn’t see the way you’d look at me, before I left?”

Your fingers twitch to reach out and brush at the ends of his hair as it falls towards you, but you keep them at your sides on the bed, curling into the sheets. “You didn’t leave, you-”

“Left, banished, driven out; it all comes to the same end, mm?” His eyes scan your face, down your dress and back up. “That’s you and me, Princess. Here, alone together. You gonna pretend you never wanted that?”

His thumb, callused and warm, keeps rubbing over your cheek. “I can’t want it”

“No, you can,” he presses. Eddie, your Eddie, would sit with you now, squat in front of you to talk to you at the same level. Now, his grip on your jaw tightens just enough to remind you that he could stop you looking away if you tried. “Cause I’ve had time to think about it.”

“While you were hiding in the woods?”

“While I was regrouping,” he corrects. “I realised something. I went about it all wrong.” he tells you. “It was foolish of me to try and use force to get what I want. Not when you were right here. Waiting for me.”

His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, then presses inside to the tip of your tongue. 

“If I make you mine, everything else follows. That’s right, isn’t it?” He nods slowly until you copy him. “The throne, power, vengeance on everyone who tried to hold me back. And you, in my bed every night. All day if I wanted.” He pulls at your lip again as he steals his thumb back, leaning in until his breath is warm against your cheeks. “That sounds nice. Doesn't it, Princess?” You glance at his lips, wanting him to kiss you now, to take it from you. Eddie shakes his head, drawing your gaze back to his. “I wanna hear you say it. You wanted me to touch you, just like this, and more, didn’t you? Wanted me to show you how to make me happy?”

You can feel your heartbeat heavy in your chest, your breath coming quicker. Only Eddie could do this, have you convinced of a story which before tonight only existed half formed in the fantasies of your bedroom. You can feel the internal conflict as if it really is your duty to say no, and your heart’s only desire to give your next answer.

“Yes, Eddie.”

He gives you a kiss that’s half teeth, dragging at your bottom lip. Even this is different. You’re used to the gentle start, feeling him smile on your mouth. He breathes deep through his nose, pulls from you so suddenly that you make to follow him until he presses a hand to your shoulder. 

“And I will. Get on the floor.” Eddie steps back, and it doesn’t even occur to argue with him now. You slide off the mattress easily, knees falling to the carpet without looking away from him. There’s a pause. He speaks quietly, as if he doesn’t want an invisible audience to hear. “You comfy? You want the pillow?” 

“No,” you answer, heart aching. “I’m okay.” 

“Okay.”

You watch the way he steels his face again, looking at you on your knees in front of him like that’s where you’re meant to be. His hands work at his belt, a soft hiss escaping when he presses his palm down the front of his pants. His head tilts back, displaying his thick neck, the rising pinkness across his pale throat, and he breathes a laugh. “Now, Princess- Wait!” You jump at the suddenness of Eddie pulling his hand from his pants only to clasp them at his waist as he half-jogs towards the door. “Just a second. Don’t move!” 

Eddie disappears through the door, mumbling to himself. His words are faint but it’s clear enough that he is looking for something. You close your eyes, focusing on his voice, however fuzzy. You never thought you could have something like this. Someone like Eddie. Someone safe. So safe that you can abandon yourself to fulfilling a silly fantasy thought up under the covers of your bed. 

Something catches your hair and you open your eyes to find him standing over you again. The tip of his tongue curls over his top lip as he places the plastic silver tiara just so on your head. When it’s as he wants it, his teeth show with his smile. “Perfect,” he says, pressing two fingers to your chin and turning your head each way. “My Princess, mm? I’m going to show you what it is to be mine.”

Eddie reaches into his pants to pull himself free. His hand drags over the shaft, quick and dirty, just for a moment’s relief if the clench of his jaw the second he stops is any indicator. 

You think you know what to do now, tipping your chin, opening your mouth, ready to take him. Only he angles his head away from your tongue. You peer up at him in confusion, watch the way his excitement plays out on his face. “C’mere, Princess.” 

Cupping your cheek with his spare hand, he guides you to the base of his cock, where he is softest. Your lips graze the fuzzy skin of his balls and Eddie makes a noise that has you squirming for the lightest touch between your legs. You kiss delicately, blinking up at him, watching his thumb rub over the head of his cock, catching wetness to ease the slow movement of his hand. He taps his fingers on your cheek gently. “Open up. Want your tongue.”

Your toes curl. You want to taste him here, aching at the smell of him; like his neck at the end of the day in Summer, his sweat and musk, fading body wash. You want to make Eddie feel good so badly, you think you might do whatever he asks as long as he looks at you the way he is now. 

You reach for him, palm settling on his knee where denim meets exposed skin. Opening your mouth, you lick quickly at the seam of his balls, taste salt on soft skin. He groans, fingers flexing around your jaw. “That’s it,” he encourages. “Fuck yes,” Eddie bites out when you lick broad and wet up to the base of his cock, thinking of his wide tongue drawing upwards from your pussy to your clit. “Fuck, yes.” 

He draws you back, smiling down at you. It makes your face burn, but you struggle between looking him in the eyes and staring at his cock. His balls are pink and wet from your attention, his hand moves steadily over his length, drawing folds of skin over his thick head and back.

“Want you to suck on them a little,” he tells you. The pause he leaves gives a moment for you to squeeze at his knee, as if presenting your open mouth wouldn’t be enough to show your agreement. He drags the weight of his balls over your chin to your wet tongue, listing off curses when your lips close just enough to suck gently. Eddie’s hand moves faster over his length, the curve of his fingers brushing your forehead with each tug.

Eddie’s groans are all that matter now. His sack is heavy, falling past your lips the wider you open your mouth. “So fuckin’ full cause of you,” Eddie bites. You hum, closing your eyes, his hips stutter. First towards the warmth of your mouth and then away entirely, replacing his sack with the head of his cock tapping against your tongue.

Eddie gasps when you lap at his leaking tip. “Can I-” He pauses, rephrases, puts on the right tone. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth now, Princess.” 

He watches you carefully, gives you time to tell him no. You squeeze his knee once more, gaze moving from his dark eyes to his cock. You press a quick kiss to the swollen head, a darker pink than the rest of him where it peeks through folds of skin, then let him press your head back against the mattress. 

Eddie’s cock glides smoothly over your tongue to the top of your throat. “Fuck,” he breathes, rolling his hips. “M’starting to think this is what you wanted the whole time.” He eases further, just past the entrance of your throat. It’s easier, like this. You are more open to him with your head tilted back this way. He holds himself in the warmth of your mouth, watching you blinking back tears to try and keep him clear in your gaze. Finally your throat protests, and Eddie draws back till you can suck at his head, the exposed length of his cock shining with your spit. You gaze at him, wanting him to be proud of you for taking him deeper than you have before. He makes a soft encouraging noise, but Eddie like this won’t give you the validation you want so easily. “Teased me for so long. I think I deserve to take what I want, now.”

Eddie thrusts slowly at first, easing you in despite his words. The hand that was on your cheek now stroking at your heated forehead. 

You like it like this. 

You liked having him in your mouth the first time, and every time after that. Like watching him shake, hearing him groan and whine, and knowing that you’re the one making him like that. You like focusing on him; lick here, nip there, let him feel you moan around him. Now, you don’t even have to think about how best to please him. You can focus on your breathing, taking air in through your nose when he pulls back enough. And on Eddie and how he looks as he takes his pleasure from you. 

Eddie’s so beautiful. His dark hair frizzes around his face, eyes crinkling at the sides when he closes them and groans into the air. His neck is pink, a pretty blush crawling up to his cheeks as his thrusts speed up. “We’re gonna do this all the time, Princess, you hear me?” He grits, fingers curling into the sheets at the side of your head. You moan in answer, pleased when it makes his cock twitch in your mouth, his tip dipping deep enough past the entrance of your throat that you can’t blink away the wetness that springs to your eyes. “You’re gonna be in my bed all the time, maybe I’ll tie you up, mm?” He presses deep again, then holds steady. When the tears collected at the corners of your eyes start to fall, he wipes them away before they can reach the apples of your cheeks. “Keep you here, just for me. Don’t need to see or talk to anyone else ever again.”

If your head weren’t fuzzy, you’d start questioning why that makes you ache. Eddie withdraws his cock from the top of your throat and you only take a second to gasp in the air you need before following him, reaching up to touch the inches of his cock your mouth still can’t quite cover. Eddie laughs through a moan at the feeling of you jerking his cock into your mouth, licking wet at the end of him. “You want that, huh? Hey-” He drags you away from his cock, leaving you with wet, pleading eyes looking up at him. “You want that?” Your mouth opens, then closes. Your hips roll, seeking friction you can’t get while kneeling like this. Eddie’s eyes flick down, lips turning up at the sight. “Get on the bed for me, mm?”

Eddie reaches a hand out to help you sit up on his mattress. Then he pulls his shirt off over the back of his head, exposing all the soft pale skin and dark ink of his torso. You pull your dress up too, knocking your tiara in the process. When the dress is off entirely, Eddie’s there in an instant to fix it for you, his fingers caressing your cheek when he’s done. “Hey, uh. Am I doing alright? Is this the sort of thing you imagined?”

“This is better,” you tell him earnestly, loving how pleased he looks. You’re learning that this, the pleasure gained from praise, is something you and Eddie share. You love it when Eddie calls you good, or smart, or sweet. When he tells you that you’re good at something he’s teaching you. In turn, Eddie likes it when you tell him how good he makes you feel, that he’s doing everything right, that he’s looking after you exactly how you want it. 

He kisses you, and it’s softer this time until he bites gently at your bottom lip as he’s pulling away. “C’mon and lie down, Princess,” he says, guiding you to lay down. You press your legs together, knees bent and feet flat to the mattress as Eddie climbs up after you. His hands stroke up and down your thighs, making you giggle softly as he passes ticklish spots. It relaxes you enough to let him guide your legs open and back, allowing him closer. Eddie tilts his head, thumbing the little blue bow at the waistband of your panties. “You really want me to tie you up?” 

Without thinking, you glance quickly at the handcuffs hanging from his door. You feel the beat of your heart against your chest, wondering if you’re ready for that, knowing really that you’re not. Eddie’s hand cups your cheek, directing your gaze back to him. He kisses your knee. “Not tonight, Princess.” He leans in, whispers. “And only ever if you really want, okay?”

“I know, Eddie,” you answer. And you do. You know that as much as Eddie is teaching you, seemingly leading you along to each new experience, in truth he’s making sure you set the pace. 

“Take this off for me,” he says, pulling at the strap of your bra. You reach underneath your back to unhook it, shimmying it off your arms and letting it drop to his floor. Once you’re settled, he takes both your hands in his, pulling them up over your head. You can’t help but giggle, feeling both nervous and giddy. “Hold onto the headboard?” You follow the instruction, wrapping your fingers around one of the wooden slats. Stretched like this, chest presented to him, you feel open and exposed, your nipples tightening from the cold air and from Eddie’s attention. “Don’t let go, mm?”

He leans down, kissing from the base of your neck down the skin between your breasts, his hair dragging behind him, tickling the sensitive skin. He leaves a wet mark on the curve of your left breast, the sting of his teeth quickly soothed by his tongue. When he takes the tight bud of your nipple between his lips, your whole body tenses. It’s a test of your submission, if you can last with only your memory of what it feels like to tangle your fingers in his hair. If you can bear not to tug at it when he flicks his tongue like that. 

Your hands tighten around the wood, hips tilting to find his cock where he tucked it back in his boxers, still hard and throbbing between your legs. The friction, however light, against where you have been waiting for him all evening, is too good to give up, and you keep searching for his hardness to rub against. 

Eddie releases your breasts with a grin. “You want it bad, huh, Princess?”

You whine, melting when he presses his hips forward to give you more delicious friction along your pussy. He huffs a laugh, sitting up and quickly reaching out for the pack of Trojans on his bedside. You watch him kneel between your legs, the way he fists his cock while he tears at the foil square with his teeth, his desperation to roll the condom over his length. Eddie shuffles forward on his knees and presses his wide hands to the back of your thighs. He gently guides your legs back, hitching your hips up for better access to your pussy, wet and swollen under his gaze.

“Wanted this for so long, Princess,” he says. “You’ve been waiting too, hmm?”

“Yes, Eddie. Been waiting so long.” You nearly cry from relief when his cock latches at your entrance, then from despair when he stills instead of filling you. The headboard creaks from your squirming. “Please,” you whisper, sounding pathetic in a way that would embarrass you if you weren’t aching from the emptiness.

Eddie stretches you perfectly as he presses inside your slick cunt. The tease of pain feels good now that your body recognises what it means, where Eddie filling you up leads. “Good?” He asks, once he’s deep enough inside that the curls of hair above his cock are teasing your clit. 

You mean to answer properly, but the intention is overtaken by the need for him to move. Waiting for him, your fingers tighten around the wood so much you swear there will be marks from your nails. “Eddie.” It comes out whinier than you intended, but he certainly doesn’t mind. 

“Eddie,” he mimics breathily, his teeth showing as the heat of pleasant humiliation crawls up your spine. He doesn’t keep you waiting any longer, snapping his hips to draw back and press deep again through your clenching cunt.

You’ve been under him every time, but like this you feel helpless. Hands voluntarily useless, body tilted up and legs opened by his hands, your body presented to him and positioned perfectly for him to set the pace. It feels right for this - you know now what the romance novels you hide under your bed mean when the heroine is taken. 

Your toes curl when Eddie’s hips roll just right, the heavy head of his cock hitting the end of you. When he reaches between you to press a thumb to your clit and rub in tight circles, your body tilts, hips trying to chase the pleasure, only for Eddie to press you back down to where he wants you.

“I like it,” you answer. “I like it, Eddie.”

“You like it, like this, hm?” Eddie asks. You blink at him slowly, wondering if it’s your boyfriend or Eddie the Banished asking. “Tell me.”

He shakes his head like he can’t believe it, hair shaking. “Knew you would. Pretty Princess just needed to be fucked right, mm?” You shudder, tightening around his cock enough that he gasps, “fuckfuckfuck. S’good. It’s so good, honey.”

You breathe a laugh. “Princess, to you.”

“My apologies,” he says, snapping his hips to land heavy against the spot at the back of your pussy. You gasp, legs kicking out against his grip involuntarily only for him to tighten his grip and push them back to where he wants them. You can hear how wet you are, the sound of him moving inside you as loud as the bed springs, as loud as your moans. “Mine now, aren’t you, Princess?” 

You nod easily. “Yes.”

“Gonna give me everything I want from now on, aren’t you?” 

“Yes. Yes-”

“Made it so easy for me. Should have just done this in the beginning, just taken you for myself.”

“Yes. Yes, Eddie.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, head tilting back as his hips speed up. “Fuck, I can’t- Can’t get enough of that.” When he looks back to you, the detached, mocking look is gone. He’s all intensity and warmth, your Eddie again. Your whole body tightens. “Tells me everything I need to know when you say my name like that.” He gives you a mean thrust, tongue peeking out as he watches where you’re connected, the slick coating his cock, before his gaze returns to your pleasured, sweaty face. “You’re so fucking good, you know that? So fucking good, the way you talk to me. Telling me what you want. Not gonna hide anything like that from me again, are you?”

“Nuh,” you manage, legs twitching. “Eddie.” 

”Again,” he gasps. “Please. My sweet girl-”

“Eddie. Eddie-”

Maybe you keep chanting his name, maybe you cry it out, maybe you stop altogether to scream out instead. You don’t know. You just know he’s all you’re thinking of as the pleasure crests, spreading out from the back of your cunt through your body until it’s intense enough you think you might cry. Then it fades to the gentle delight of Eddie still moving inside you, the warmth and weight of his cock when he buries himself deep. You hear him groan, feel the potential for bruises blooming where his fingers dig into your thighs. Then it’s his weight easing down on top of you, the ache in your shoulders and your legs as you let them relax before wrapping yourself around him.

You finally get your hands in his hair. The roots are damp from sweat, his curls tangled in knots. Eddie’s face is pressed so fully to the space between your breasts that you’re not convinced he can be breathing. He mumbles something that’s lost to your ears, then tilts his head up till you can see his face, and his goofy smile. Your heart aches even as you giggle. Then he’s crawling up your body to kiss you, his mouth warm and tasting like the sweat from his upper lip. 

“I’m gonna pull out now but I want it known that it’ll take amazing strength of will on my part.” 

He does so, disappearing from the bed for less than five seconds to throw out the condom before flopping next to you again and opening his arms to let you clamber into his hold again, you try to fight the rising worries by pressing your face into his neck. He hisses at the scrape of the plastic tiara under his chin, taking it off himself before returning to stroke at your temple with his fingers.  “How do you feel, sweet girl?”

It takes you a minute to answer, sorting through all the complicated feelings that emerged the second Eddie wasn’t inside you anymore. “Good,” you murmur. Then, “weird.” 

You hate how fast it all happens so soon after something so special. You feel overwhelmed and tired, like you want to scrub yourself raw under hot water, like you want to curl up in Eddie’s arms and smell like him forever. You feel like you don’t want to ever be touched again, but the thought that Eddie won’t makes your heart sore. You wish you were normal. You wish you didn’t have weird fantasies. You wish you didn’t feel guilty about what you want. 

Eddie holds you tight against him, and you let yourself feel the comfort of that. Eddie doesn’t think you’re weird, or gross, or immoral. Eddie won’t ever leave you alone to cry and scratch at your crawling skin. 

He presses his lips to your forehead, mumbles against your skin. “Gonna let me look after you?”

He keeps you with him while he runs a bath. You’re wrapped in a towel while he runs around naked, giving you mock coquettish looks over his shoulder every now and then until he gets a giggle from you. As steam starts to rise from the tub, he searches through the cabinet under the sink before emerging with a bottle filled with suspiciously bright orange liquid. “We don’t have bubble bath but, uh, this is six-in-one.” 

You try sitting in the water together, wrapped up in him, but the pins and needles come too fast, eight limbs not quite fitting as they should. You end up facing him, legs tucked up to your chest, watching the water drip from dark ends of his hair. 

“Not as romantic as I’d hoped,” he says.

“It’s okay. I like looking at you.”

His dimples show. Sweetest boy on Earth. He splashes at you a little, waiting for you to smile before talking. “Feeling better?” 

“Much,” you answer honestly. Somewhere between giggling at Eddie rushing to his bedroom to fetch towels for you both, a hair tie for you, with his hands covering the crack of his ass while leaving his dick uncovered and him quietly insisting on taking the side of the tub with the tap at his back, the grey cloud hanging over you faded. “Cause of you,” you say, splashing him back. 

Eddie smiles, resting his face against his knee. “Is there anything I can do, you know, to make it better, like, before it happens?” He reaches for your hand in the water. “Cause it hasn’t, in a while. I know that this was, like, different, but if I did something-”

“No,” you interrupt. “It wasn’t you.” Eddie lets that sit for a while, waiting for you to continue. “When it’s just me and you, it’s like-” You swallow. “Sometimes I feel like I’m being really, actually myself for the first time in my whole life.” Eddie’s eyes are so soft, looking at you now. “And I know that you won’t ever judge me for…my fantasies, or whatever. But then it’s like, it’s almost like- Like without even wanting to, I imagine what other people would say, if they knew the stuff I told you. If they saw how I am, when it’s just us. And then I just feel like, even though they’re not there, it’s ruined it.”

Eddie squeezes your hand, sighs with his whole body. “That sounds exhausting.”

Tears prick in your eyes even as you laugh without real mirth. “It is.”

“Well, you know this stuff really is always going to be just me and you. Right?” 

“I know, Eddie.”

“I wish I could fix it for you, sweet thing.”

You close your eyes tight, trying to force back the tears. You swallow the lump in your throat, thinking, me too. Instead, you sigh, remind yourself that however hard it is now, you’re sure it used to be worse. Before you had Eddie and his humour, his touch, his kindness. “You make it better, Eddie. I promise.”

He’s perfectly gentle with you the rest of the evening, curling back up with you on the couch when you’re dry to restart Theatre of Blood. You let yourself sink into his chest, playing with his rings. You are just about engrossed in the story again, watching with sick fascination as the first critic is stabbed like Julius Caesar. Then, a thought suddenly occurs.

“Did…did you say the soap was six-in-one?”

“Sure did,” Eddie answers. “Face, body, hair, laundry, pets and dishes.”

“That’s why it smells like the terrier next door.”

Eddie hums, lifts your hand to his face and sniffs. “You mean that’s why we smell like the terrier next door.”