#and then burning them all like the dramatic little bitch he is | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

msgexymunson · 1 year ago

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Shotgun

Description: you're on a camping trip with your two friends, and the scariest guy from school: Eddie Munson. A few beers and some weed change the way you look at him however. Maybe he's not so scary after all. Cocky, oh yes, but not scary. Especially the way your legs start to squeeze together at the sight of him. But, does he like you, or is this some cruel game to play on the innocent band geek?

A/n: do I have 10 WIPs? Yes. Do I have requests I'm working on? Also yes. So logically, I started a one shot from a smutty dream I had, that turned into a freaking long one. Enjoy!

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI or I'll feed you to the fishes. Very smutty, a bit of angst, hella fluff! Reader is AFAB, cocky!experienced!Eddie x Virgin!band geek!fem!reader, very slight dub con in the beginning (touching over panties, explicit consent not given), female fingering receiving, dry humping, female oral receiving, p in v protected sex.

❤️Reblogs are what keep me going; they keep Tumblr going, and my little black heart beating. Reblog my work and I'll love you forever sweetheart. ❤️

12.5k words (oops)

Masterlist

"You know you guys can't handle this shit!"

Eddie laughs, nearly spilling the beer cradled in his hand.

Steve rolls his eyes, chucking his beer top into the campfire you guys had set up for the evening, the paint sparking briefly.

"Come on Munson, pass it round, quit being a bitch."

"Yeah Eddie, share the love!"

Robin giggles as she clutches her chest dramatically. Shaking your head, you shift uncomfortably on the ground. It's not that you haven't been around this sort of stuff before, people you weren't too keen on have smoked once in your company. It wasn't even a moral thing, you were just a little scared of the effect. That, and the fact you were sitting right next to Eddie Munson.

Eddie, the guy you've literally been frightened of since you saw him leaping on tables in the cafeteria. That was some time ago, and Robin had assured you he was a good guy. You trusted her judgement completely, hence why you'd even considered going camping with the three of them for the weekend. It didn't help the fact that you were just a band geek, not used to these sorts of get togethers. Hell, your closest friends played chess for fun. This was so out of your comfort zone that you felt like a deer in headlights. Only a week ago you had your first beer, at 21; the proper age. Now you were sucking back a brew in the woods at night, sitting next to the drug dealer of the area.

It could just be the beer talking, but Eddie looks good right now. Every time he shook his mane of hair out of his face it had you biting your lip. He threw his head back when he laughed and the sight of that stretched neck of his had you clenching your thighs, feelings bubbling up that you'd never felt before.

So when his hand reached out and his fingertips grazed you, a blunt pressed between his thick ringed fingers, you gasped, pulling your hand away as if it had been burned.

"Come on, take it."

Your tongue feels thick and swollen, sticking to the roof of your mouth. Words. Think of words.

"Can't you, erm, pass it the other way?"

"No, it always goes to the left sweetheart."

Sweetheart.

Glad the low light hides your blazing cheeks at the pet name, you dip your eyes downward for fear of them exposing you. You played the flute for Christ's sake. This was not your thing.

"I-I, well, I-"

"You not smoked before?"

Robin's voice cuts through the myriad of noises in your head, making you turn violently.

"I just, I never-"

"Look at me."

Those words from him sing through your nerves, making you forget any thought you had, or anticipated. As you turn, Eddie's dark eyes bore into you.

"You trust me?"

No. A thousand times no.

"Yes."

"Come here."

He shifts and gets up on his knees, joint pressed between pouting lips as he lights it again, the cherry blazing almost as hot as your blood right now. You mimic his movements, rising on shaky thighs to kneel in front of him.

"Right, I'm gonna take a pull, and blow the smoke, when I breathe out, you breathe in, 'kay?"

His words are sweet, and a little condescending, an edge of talking down that just stirs up your insides further, guts a puddle.

"Okay."

He cups his hands to his face, gesturing for you to do the same. Raising your shaking hands, you touch them delicately with his. He flips his hands so they are on the outside, cupping yours, pushing them together with a lot more force than you did.

He's close, so close. Your breath hitches in your throat, those deep eyes a couple of inches from yours. Heat radiates from his body, your skin itching almost from its blistering warmth. That could just be from the fire. Or the fire in between your legs.

He smells good. There's weed there, sure, and the beer you've all been drinking, and some aftershave you couldn't place, maybe bergamot? An undercurrent lies beneath it all, of man and skin, that makes your toes curl.

He breathes into you then, the swirling smoke trying to escape your cupped hands.

You inhale deeply, focusing on the feel of Eddie's rough hands, on his touch. You breathe in until there's nothing left and hold it. His eyes don't leave yours, sparkling in the fire light.

The exhale hurts more. Breathing out smoke, you revel in the fact you didn't cough or startle. The feeling of him letting go of your hands is far worse.

A ringing, whooping noise finally reaches your ears, between the sound of your own blood pumping. Robin and Steve are cheering like morons, but your gaze doesn't leave Eddie.

"There you go. Good girl."

Damn.

A sharp intake of breath pulls into your lungs and straight to your heat. The pure shock and desire those two words drew from you have you dropping backwards, butt slamming into the pine needle dusted ground.

"Hey you OK?" Robin's hand on your shoulder distracts you briefly and you flash a weak smile.

"Sure, just went to my head a little, I'm good."

Eddie's hand reaches over you, passing the blunt to Robin. You dare not look him in the eye, fearful that everything you felt was written all over your innocent face. Out of your periphery, you can tell he's facing you. Suddenly the fire was extremely interesting.

Robin has a couple of tokes, and tries a third when Steve waves at her.

"Quit hogging it!"

"OK, don't get your panties in a twist!" Passing it to Steve with a loud huff, he takes it and breathes deep. And promptly coughs his guts out.

Robin and Eddie cackle, and even you can spare a giggle at the irony.

"Told you Harrington. Even the little band cutie took it better than you!"

"Fuck off Munson."

Hell, he knows who I am. And he called me cute.

This is Eddie. Scary, metal head, drug dealer Eddie. Eddie who all of a sudden stirs your insides up and makes your head dizzy. Eddie who you now realise is actually goddamn gorgeous.

Eddie takes a hit and turns to you.

"You wanna try smoking it sweetheart?"

Heart hammering in your ribs, you manage to speak.

"C-can you do, that thing, again?"

His smile is dipped in sin as he scoots nearer to you, and you copy him. Suddenly this seems more intimate, sitting on the ground, twisting to face each other, inches away. He takes a hit and holds it, gesturing at you to lean closer. The way he tilts his head, you could almost believe he's going to kiss you. This time, he cups your face, blowing smoke at you. It's so close his lips brush yours ever so softly.

You're not sure if your inhale was intentional or a shocked gasp, but in the smoke goes.

Did he mean to do that?

One look into his eyes tells you yes. There's a cockiness to his grin, the devil dancing across his face.

So, did he do it because he likes you, or is he just messing with you? Only Eddie knows the answer to that.

You exhale, less than an inch from his full lips. Time stops. That is until Steve and his loud mouth break the spell.

"Come on, get a room you guys!" He practically yells, throwing a twig in your direction.

You snap your head away from Eddie and stare at Steve with wild eyes.

"I-I wasn't, we- we weren't-"

"We weren't? Well, that's a damn shame."

As you glance back at Eddie he's leaning on propped up elbows, looking so sure of himself that it's annoying, bordering on making you angry.

Cheeks flooding with warmth, your mouth forms words without checking with your brain first.

"Y-you know what you are Eddie?"

He tilts his head at you, still smirking, and gestures a hand willing you to continue.

"A cocky mother fucker."

The grin falls from his face as he looks at you in shock. Robin and Steve practically piss themselves laughing at your sudden outburst.

"Shit Eddie you better watch out!" Robin laughs out.

"Yeah, that kitty's got claws dude." Steve agrees.

Embarrassed at your own words, you risk glancing at Eddie. You were expecting him to be upset, angry even. That's not the case; he looks impressed.

"Shit, yeah, I can see that. Didn't know you had it in you sweetheart."

Smiling to yourself, you stretch your legs and wiggle your feet. You impressed him. Your turn for a smug smile.

Pretty soon the high starts to settle in; a warmth seeps through your bones and a tingle spreads from your head into your body. It feels like you're quivering whilst sitting still. Steve offers you another beer but you turn it down, well aware that being too foggy right now would be a bad idea. Especially since Eddie has been creeping closer. Now you're side by side, hips so close any time he moves he brushes against you.

The fire dies down, turning to embers. The beer coat has vanished, leaving you shivering. Steve and Robin are already under a blanket; you can see Robin's eyes are close to closing.

"You ok there sweetheart? Cold?"

"I-I'm O-OK."

"No you aren't, you're shaking."

Without a further word he's taking off his jacket and putting his arm firmly around you. Whatever space there was between you has melted away, sides now flush.

You could say the same for your face. This may well be the closest you've been to a boy. Well, a man. He drapes the jacket over the pair of you, covering your crossed legs and his lap, and rubs his hand smoothly up and down your arm to warm you. Little does he know how much he's warming your insides, each stroke sending a buzzing desire through your limbs.

Steve's chatting away; yet another story about Dustin spilling from his lips when you feel Eddie's other hand snaking underneath the jacket, coming to rest on your thigh.

Eyes wide, you flick your gaze towards him.

"What are you doing?" You whisper urgently.

"Just warming you up sweetheart."

He says it so sweetly, yet it belies the movements of his hand, moving further up your leg to run soft circles just underneath the hem of your skirt.

You can't hear a word Steve is saying, unable to concentrate on anything but Eddie's touch and the whooshing blood in your ears. No one had ever touched you like this, not once.

Robin's shrill voice breaks through the fizzing in your head; once again her and Steve are arguing over something. You might have heard Vickie being mentioned but you can't be sure.

Eddie's hand trails higher, within reach of your panties. Breath catching in your throat, you mean to admonish him but all that comes out is a breathy noise.

"Eddie…"

He rests his chin on your shoulder, hot breath fanning your ear.

"You want me to stop?"

You don't answer, you can't. You're frozen, unable to move, unable to make a sound lest a moan escape your lips.

He wouldn't dare, not with Steve and Robin here, would he?

He would.

Eddie runs a finger gently down the front of your panties. The softest touch, a whisper of a thing. Then he does it again, up and down, pressing the cotton of your briefs into your private parts.

You can feel your insides fluttering, a burning settling between your legs, being stoked by every barely there touch. Suddenly, he presses down on something that has you softly whimpering and clenching at nothing. A tingle shoots down your legs to the tips of your toes.

You hear a small noise; it's Eddie chuckling in his throat. It snaps you out of your frozen state and you move to get up.

"I'm going to bed guys."

Standing abruptly, you let Eddie's jacket fall from you as he scrambles to keep it over his own lap.

You turn to your tent and hear Steve and Robin wish you goodnight, and mumble about going to bed soon too.

"Night guys!"

"Want any company sweetheart?"

There he is, sitting with that arrogant look on his face.

"Goodnight, Eddie."

You say it firmly, even though your resolve is as substantial as tissue paper. Stomping over to your tent, you turn on your camp light and sit on your double inflatable bed, hugging your knees.

Now that you're alone you realise how much that weed affected you. You feel airy, light as a feather, fingers and toes still tingling.

It must be the drugs.

You focus on the reality of the situation. You just let some guy touch you down there. Eddie Munson touched you over your panties.

So why weren't you scared? Or angry at him? It's not like he asked. The fact is that no one's done anything like that to you before, and it felt incredible. Left you aching for more. That thought was making you more frightened than anything else.

You listen to the group slowly pad their way off to bed, rustles of clothing, mumbled 'goodnights', and tent zips.

To the left of your tent was the huge six berth Steve had brought for him and Robin. It was fancy, you assume he 'borrowed' it from his parents. On the cusp of hearing there was bickering. You don't know how Robin and Steve became friends, or how they maintained it since they acted like an old married couple most of the time, but it seemed to work. After a few minutes soft snores echoed from the two of them.

No sound comes from the other side, where Eddie had pitched a little coffin tent. You wonder if he's still sitting by the dying embers of the fire. He's probably smoking.

Stop thinking about him.

You undress, only pulling an oversized t-shirt on to sleep in since your big sleeping bag is so warm. You'd bought a double one with your birthday money last year because you hated feeling restricted. It was a luxury but with all the camping you did it just made sense. Snuggling into its spacious depths, you attempt to quiet the raging hormones coursing through your veins.

God, why is he so annoying and smug? It burned you up, but you couldn't deny how much it turned you on.

You slide your hand between your legs, pressing hard to try and quench the fire. He did something, you're sure of it. This wasn't natural for you, movements unsure and bordering on clumsy. When you run your finger through your naked folds you whimper, and see how wet you are. Gasping, you explore further, and find that spot, a hidden nub that sends a bolt of lightning to your core.

"Oh fuck," you breathe out in a moan, starting to rub up and down.

"You alright in there sweetheart?"

Oh shit, he's right outside the tent. Was he there the whole time?

"Yeah, what do you want?"

"I'm cold, can I come in?"

No.

"Y-yeah."

He unzips the tent and enters, crouching to accommodate his height. Closing the tent up, he takes in his surroundings, letting out a low whistle.

"Pretty sweet set up you've got here, your folks rich or something?"

"No, I just do a lot of camping with the troop."

"Huh?" He looks confused, falling to his knees to look you in the eyes.

"The girl scouts, I volunteer as a leader."

The laughter that comes from him is loud and rich.

"Fuck, you got that little innocent act down don't you?"

It's your turn to look confused.

"What on earth are you talking about Eddie?"

He scoffs at you, clearly not buying it.

"The cute little band geek thing, helping out with girl scouts. Shit, the whole 'can you do that thing again?' " He mimics your words from earlier and you flush crimson.

"Eddie, I honestly don't know what you're going on about. I never smoked before, I hadn't even had a beer before my 21st last week. I've never even- no one's done what you did, outside."

Eddie's jaw may as well be on the floor.

"You're fucking with me."

You shake your head, lips pressed tight.

"Well, now I feel like an asshole." He huffs out, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed.

"Well maybe you should, you never asked."

"I'm sorry, I just- I thought you were one of those freaky band kids. You kept looking at me like you were gonna eat me alive, I thought I was in for a rough night." He laughs, shooting a gaze at you.

"Well you thought wrong." You turn your head, arms crossed firmly over your chest.

"I'll go if you want. Want me to leave?"

Yes.

"No."

A smile spreads slowly across his face, and he inches closer to you on his hands and knees, palms splayed on the foot of your air bed.

"So, you want me to stay?"

"No."

"So… should I sleep in the doorway?"

A fair question, considering your answer. You laugh, looking back at him. His smile is softer, much less mocking. It's sweet almost, sanding down your rough edges.

"Yeah, you can be my bodyguard. Protect me from bears and mountain lions and stuff."

He chuckles and climbs over; you lay back on instinct, further away. Leaning right over you, his face is an inch from yours, hair tickling your cheek.

"You know, I could protect this beautiful body of yours better if I was in the sleeping bag with you."

"You don't give up, do you?" You whisper into his skin, sounding braver than you felt.

"It was the sweet and innocent thing, did me in."

He plants a soft kiss to your cheek, brushing your skin, and another, to the corner of your mouth that makes you shiver.

"Tell me to stop."

"Eddie, kiss me."

His mouth is on your then, hot and heavy, tongue begging at your bottom lip. You give him an inch and he takes a mile, tongue sliding against yours with practised movements. Not expecting the full force of his kiss, you suddenly realise you're moaning into his mouth, hands coming to wind into his loose locks.

He breaks away, chuckling at the way you chase his lips.

"You know, you don't kiss like a good girl."

Merely whining in response, you try to catch your breath.

"So, can I get in the sleeping bag? I'm freezing out there."

"Fine, just, no funny business." You point your finger at him, gasping when he licks it long and slow.

"Nothing you don't want me to do." He winks, and pulls his t-shirt over his head.

"What are you doing?"

He ignores you, pulling his socks off and unbuttoning his jeans.

"I'm getting undressed. Why, expect me to sleep in my jeans?"

You merely screw your nose up in response. Stripped down to his boxers, he clambers his lithe body onto the sleeping bag with you, all elbows and knees. Sighing, you move over to accommodate him but he wraps his arms around you.

"Eddie, what-"

"I'm cold sweetheart, just, warm me up a little?"

Your heart is hammering in your ribcage with the realisation that you're entirely out of control of this situation. You allow him to hold you, and hesitantly rest your arm over him. Your head is snuggled into his neck, feeling more comfortable than you had any right to be.

"Eddie, your legs are freezing."

"I know! I wasn't lying, my sleeping bag's shitty."

He pushes his thigh between yours, and you remember a split second too late that you're not wearing any bottoms. Suddenly, his bare thigh is pressed against your naked heat. You're praying to any Gods that might be listening that he doesn't notice, attempting to stay as still as possible.

He's warming up slowly, but you're stiff as a post, trying not to focus on his thigh and the slight pressure it's putting on your most delicate parts.

"So, you gonna tell me what you were doing sweetheart?"

"What?" You whisper into the soft skin of his neck.

"Well, I came out of my tent to see if you were still awake, and imagine my surprise when I heard moaning."

"N-no, I wasn't!"

"Quit lying, I can feel your cunt on my leg."

You nearly choke on your own saliva.

"Eddie, you can't just say that!"

You hit him on the chest. He just laughs, dragging your little fist to his mouth to kiss it.

"I can when you're soaking my leg."

Opening your mouth to respond, all words escape you. Especially when he grinds his thigh against your folds. Instead of words, a whimper breaks from your lips.

"Yeah? That good sweetheart?"

The smugness is back, but you can't find it in you to care, not when he rocks his hips and the force of his leg sets loose a roll of pleasure. He's hard, it's pressing into your hip.

A lean arm curls around you, his thick thumb finding its way to your chin to lift it upwards. You stare into his darkened eyes as they dart to your lips and back up.

All resolve is dissolved like ash in the rain as you feel the intensity of his stare and the warmth of him between your thighs. You crash your lips to his desperately, hips chasing friction. When his heavy tongue slips into your mouth you respond in kind, needy and vigorous.

He takes his thigh away and you huff at the loss, but it's not for long, not when that hand of his is stroking down your front, lightly massaging your hardened nipples and chasing down to your stomach. He cups your mound, one finger pushing down on your swollen nub.

"Eddie."

It's a whimper, a plea into his open mouth. Responding by biting your bottom lip softly, he dips his finger lower, circling your entrance gently. His finger slips inside then and you clench around it immediately, moaning at the foreign feeling. It's odd, yes, but it's so good that you cry out.

"Gotta be quiet sweetheart, don't want anyone hearing me fuck you with my fingers."

His crude words are peppering your insides with fire, the evidence of your arousal seeping out of you. Humming in response, you bite your lip, clinging desperately to his side.

He slowly pumps his finger in and out, watching your face. You're slick jawed, eyebrows knitted tight, hips rolling with each thrust of his hand.

"Fuck you're so tight, can barely fit my finger in."

"Eddie, no one's ever-"

"Shhh, I fuckin' know sweetheart. Gonna make you feel really good. Just enjoy it."

He curls his finger inside you, incessantly stroking at something that's making your legs tense up and your insides flutter around him, the heel of his hand flat and hard against that spot again.

"Oh my God!" You whisper urgently, fingernails digging into his sides.

"I know baby, feels good yeah?"

"Uh huh" you manage to breathe out as your eyes squeeze shut.

The pressure collating in your tummy is building and building as he speeds up, finger reaching deep inside. It releases, and flows from you, wave after wave crashing down and washing away everything but Eddie.

You muffle your cries of pleasure in the skin of Eddie's chest, resisting the urge to clamp your teeth into his flesh.

As you come down, he releases his digit with a wet sucking sound that probably would have made you embarrassed five minutes ago, but now it's just inconsequential.

"Still with me?" He asks softly as he hugs you close.

"Barely" You mumble; he chuckles at your reply.

He rolls you on top of him, moving your legs so you're straddling him. His hard on is pressing firmly into your privates, your slick dampening the front of his boxers immediately.

"Eddie, I'm not- I can't have sex with-"

"Sweetheart, you trust me?"

Yes.

"No."

There's that look again, that edge of mocking that isn't making you annoyed anymore, it's making you want to pull his underwear down and slip him inside of you.

"I'm not gonna fuck you. Not unless you want me to. Relax sweetheart."

His hands are on your ass, moving you against him to grind on his rock hard bulge. Your eyes widen, the friction so much better than his thigh.

He lets out a stifled moan, and damn if it isn't the best noise you've heard in your life.

His hands trail under your shirt as you take over moving against him, feeling the shape of him under you. Tugging at the hem, he looks up at you with pleading eyes.

"Can I- can I take this off?"

All feelings of modesty have fled and you whip your shirt over your head and fling it across the tent.

"Fuck, look at you."

Leaning forward he takes your nipple into his mouth and rolls his tongue around and around.

"Eddie, oh Holy fuck!"

Your movements become faster and sloppy, so he grabs you by the hips to slow you down.

"You know what I think?" He says, in between wet open mouthed kisses to your breasts, "I think you are a freak. You just didn't know it yet." He chuckles darkly, and sucks hard at one of your nipples.

Your moan is loud and bordering on pornographic as you rut yourself against him harshly, all pretence of keeping quiet forgotten as your stomach tightens again in thick knots of pleasure.

"Oh Eddie, I'm- I'm gonna cum oh fuckfuckfuck!"

It all undoes at once as you release and clench around nothing, pussy throbbing with ecstasy. The bones in your body seem to disintegrate, muscles a distant memory as you flop against him.

Eddie's not done.

"Come on sweetheart, just a little longer."

He encourages your hips to move again as you lay on his chest, skin glowing with perspiration. You can only grunt in response and start grinding against him again, the feeling so intense it has you clenching your teeth with pleasure pain.

"That's it, fuck, I'm so close. There's my good girl, just, oh shit, little more."

His praise bubbles through you and you speed up to meet his rutting hips, your slick sticking to the tops of your thighs.

"Feel so good sweetheart, oh shit!"

Lifting your head, you do it just in time to watch Eddie's eyes screw shut, mouth panting open with pleasure as he holds your hips in a death grip. His cheeks and neck are flushed, the vein in his neck pulsing. You press your lips to it softly, leaving feather dusted kisses over his neck and jaw as he comes down from his glowing high.

"Holy shit." He laughs into you, kissing the top of your head over your hair.

"Indeed" your reply is breathless as you melt into his front, attempting to ignore the stickiness.

"As much as I'm enjoying you naked on top of me, I need to, er-" He gestures vaguely at himself with one hand. For a minute you think he's just going to go, but instead he wriggles out of the sleeping bag and whips his boxers down.

You sit back on your heels, mouth agape as he casually cleans his spend with his underwear, wiping at the matted pubic hair. He's big; you could feel him under you but now you're faced with it you fear your eyes may bug out of your head.

Glancing down, you can see some of his cum escaped its fabric confinement; a few drops glisten on your lower abdomen. Curiosity gets the better of you as you gather it on your fingers to feel the consistency, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger. It's stickier than you thought. You bring your thumb to your mouth and suck the excess off. It's salty, and strange, but not unpleasant exactly.

When your eyes meet again Eddie looks awestruck, staring at you with the queerest expression on his face.

Embarrassed at being caught, you hide your hand behind your back as if scolded.

"Sorry, was that wrong?"

"No, fuck no," he chuckles, looking away, "just have to stop looking at me like that sweetheart."

"Why?"

"Hell, 'cause you're making me hard again."

"Oh."

You shyly put your head down and settle back down in the sleeping bag's warmth. To your amazement Eddie gets in with you.

"What are you doing?"

"I thought you said I could stay? Or you had enough of me?"

"N-no, I just… well, you're naked."

He laughs hard at that.

"So are you."

Nothing about this seems to phase him, but your mind is swirling around and around. You'd just had your first orgasms ever, and now you're going to be sleeping naked with a man. With Eddie Munson.

He's so much warmer now, skin hot to the touch. Hesitantly, you rest your hand on his chest. He pulls you close, picking up your little camp light with the other hand, fiddling with it briefly before offering it to you.

"Can you switch this thing off?"

You reach and press the button, plunging you both into darkness.

"Night sweetheart."

"Night Eddie."

********************

Early morning light wakes you, filtering through the tent fabric, coating everything in a warm glow.

Eddie is still here, laying on his back, snoring softly with you cuddled to his chest. You'd hate to admit it, but you were glad. Glad he didn't run off in the night. Glad that last night had actually happened and wasn't just your over active imagination playing some cruel joke.

Laying there, feeling the rhythm of his breathing, you take a second to really think.

What was actually happening? A part of you is frightened; scared that maybe Eddie sees your virginity as a challenge. Maybe that's why he stayed? You were staying another night after all. Or maybe this is a little holiday romance, something to keep him occupied whilst he's away. You'd had one before at band camp; nothing serious, just kisses and cuddles and radio silence on your return.

What were Robin and Steve going to say? You contemplated waking him up right now to sneak him back to his own tent, but that thought went straight out the window when you caught the sound of their tent being unzipped.

A soft bash to your tent startles you and makes Eddie snort himself awake.

"Hey guys I'm making coffee! Come and join us!"

Robin sings out and walks away to fuss over the fire it sounds like.

Oh Holy shit balls. Hey guys?? She knew Eddie was here. And if she knew, Steve knew.

Eddie smirks down at you as you stare at him with wild panic in your eyes.

"Guess our little secret is out sweetheart."

Before you can say a word he's unzipping the sleeping bag and fumbling about for his jeans, slipping them clumsily onto his legs.

"Eddie!" You whisper urgently. He just chuckles.

"What, want me to cut a hole in the back of the tent? Tunnel out?"

He's got a point.

"Eddie, please just don't-"

"Hey, I ain't one to kiss and tell, relax."

Before you can say another word he's perching a cigarette in between his plump lips and making his way out of the tent.

Fuck.

You pull on your clothes hastily, a skirt and t-shirt, and slide on your sneakers, attempting to untangle some of the messy bed head that had been created during the night.

It's now or never.

You exit the tent, attempting to look as casual about it as you can.

"Morning guys."

Steve smiles at you.

"Howdy cowgirl."

"Hi?"

You return his greeting, utterly confused, but by the sound of Robin shushing him violently and Eddie coughing on his cigarette you can only assume he meant something by that which went over your head. Robin breaks the tension, talking a mile a minute.

"Hey sleepy head! You want a coffee? I just made it over the fire. Crazy! I know it took forever. It'll wake you up. Not that you need waking up you're up and about and it's early! It's not like you had a long night. Well you might have how would I know anyway here's your coffee!!"

Seems you might have gotten a little loud, why else would Robin be breaking the sound barrier? You don't say a thing, just smile gratefully and take your coffee, entirely avoiding Eddie's eyes, and try to wish the blood away from your darkening cheeks.

"So, we thought we might have a swim in the lake in a couple hours when it's warmer, you in?"

Steve asks and you nod, aware your voice right now is not to be trusted.

So, after a little breakfast and small talk about the cold last night, which you put a particular emphasis on to try and explain away your little situation, you all go and change into your swimwear.

In your tent you lay out your usual one piece, the plain black one you always wear with the troop, and the other set. The bikini you bravely bought but never wore, deeming it far too skimpy for camp. But this wasn't girl scouts.

God damn he's already seen me naked, come on, be brave.

Skimpy number it is. You wear it underneath your clothes and grab a towel and a book, readying yourself to join the others.

Eddie and Steve walk ahead, talking obnoxiously loud; something you're quite glad of. At least they aren't whispering about you.

Robin walks side by side with you, practically vibrating.

"Just, whatever you wanna say, say it before you explode."

The voice that exits her mouth is so high pitched you're surprised dogs didn't start barking.

"You had sex with Eddie Munson!"

"I did not!"

"Totally did, we saw you!"

You stop in your tracks, mouth hanging open.

"What the fuck Robin!"

"Sorry, we didn't actually like, see you see you, we saw your shadows, 'cause of the light in your tent."

"We- I- I mean, we didn't, like, have sex, we just- did something else." You settle at lamely.

"Are you going to? He really likes you."

You scoff at that, continuing your walk.

"He's just trying to get in my pants, take my virginity. I doubt he'll even talk to me after."

Robin's hand shoots out to grab your arm.

"Oh, you don't know, do you?"

Feeling utterly confused, you turn to face her.

"What are you going on about?"

"Eddie likes you, he had a crush on you in high school. He was the one that suggested inviting you and nearly killed me when I actually did."

Your world turns sideways in your mind; everything is upside down, thoughts smashed, memories cut to ribbons in their wake.

"Huh? How- what?"

"He was telling Steve like a week ago, I was listening in and opened my mouth as per usual. I tried to tell you, remember?"

You rack your brains trying to come up with answers when a light bulb switches in your head.

"Hang on, you said Eddie wanted me to go before, didn't you? I honestly thought you were just joking with me, I didn't think he knew who I was!"

You reach the tree line and see the two boys a little further on, just on the tiny beach leading to the lake, stripping off their clothes.

"But he was so- so sure of himself!"

"Oh he's always like that. Pretty sure it's an act, he's actually super sweet when you get to know him."

You look up and stare at Eddie in his swim shorts. He'd been naked last night, but with the low light and distraction of seeing his privates for the first time you hadn't had the opportunity to really look at him all over.

He was lean and tall, but there was a broadness to his shoulders and a sinew to his muscles that made him stand out. Tattoos littered his frame, more than you thought he had but the detail was lost at this distance. You were walking closer, still staring at him, when he captures you. Smiling that smug grin of his he holds his arms out as if on display.

"See something you like sweetheart?"

On the edge of shying away, you look down; but then you remember Robin's words. He's the one with the crush on you. Feeling a little braver, bolstered by that thought, you walk closer, a couple of feet away from him, and stop.

"You look really good Eddie."

Pulling your t-shirt over your head, you smile at Eddie's reaction. Clearly not expecting such a bold move from you, his cheeks and neck are flushed pink. For once he seems speechless. You slip your skirt off and away, kicking it to one side.

This leaves you in your tiny baby blue triangle bikini, with delicate daisies embroidered on the hem. For once, your cleavage is fully displayed, and the ties for the bottoms ride high on your hips. You slip two fingers under each tied side and pull them up ever so slightly.

Eddie's eyes dart down and back up again, and you swear you see him swallow thickly in his throat.

"Well, you swimming or not handsome?"

Without a further glance you kick your shoes off and wade into the chilly water.

OK, keep calm, just look at him now.

Risking a quick peek back, you see him standing gormlessly on the sand, mouth hanging open. He looks so dorky, so unlike the Eddie you've seen so far that you giggle aloud.

Steve calls out to him, already in the clear water. He's stumbling into the lake after you then as if a fire was lit underneath him. Robin makes her way in too, and pretty sure you're laughing and splashing each other in earnest, the boys taking turns in dunking each other underwater.

Steve keeps screaming about his hair, which just makes you all laugh that little bit louder. Soon he's moping about it and swims off surprisingly fast. Robin says she wants to dry out and wanders back to the beach to read a little, leaving you and Eddie alone.

He swims straight to you, bodies a couple of inches apart. Suddenly the water doesn't feel so cold, warmed by the heat he seems to pull from you just by being close. That ache is there again, wanting to be filled by Eddie. You try and shake the thought away.

"Seems a little skimpy for a scout leader," he says, gesturing at your two piece.

"Well, I don't wear this one with the troop," you reply, attempting to look blasé about it.

"So, wore this just for me, sweetheart?"

You shrug, but know your eyes betray you, honesty etched into the look you give him.

"You did, didn't you? That's cute," he responds to his own question, reaching a hand up to hold you by the waist. All of a sudden his breath is in your ear, his other hand reaching up to your chest.

"You look hot by the way, I like the little flowers," as he says it he runs a finger over the hem of your bikini bra making you shudder.

"Eddie," you whisper, meaning to scold him but it just comes out a little too breathy for that.

He continues to whisper in your ear, each word sending a butterfly loose in your swirling stomach. "Wondering if I can stay in that tent of yours again. To stay warm?"

You laugh, turning to face him. "That's not all you want and you know it."

"Yeah?" He comes closer, lips so close to brushing yours, holding your chin between thumb and forefinger. You clench your thighs together as your eyes flutter shut.

"Seems you want more as well," he laughs, pulling back from you. The frown that appears on your face tells him all he needs to know.

As he moves away, his hand drops down, knuckles dragging slowly over your nipple, already pebbled by the water.

"Maybe later princess."

He turns to get out of the water. Furious with how forward he just was you shout after him.

"Eddie, you are such-"

"A cocky mother fucker?" He shouts back, stealing your thunder.

You clench your fists, nearly losing it treading water, and decide to swim away to cool off.

You're finding Robin's words hard to believe. He still seems so confident; maybe his little chat with Steve was a rouse to get you here so he could tease you. If he has liked you all this time, maybe it's just a sexual thing. Seduce the band geek.

When the ache between your thighs is lessened by the burning muscles in your arms and legs you swim back to shore and dry off, laying on your towel to read.

It's like the universe has it in for you today. A few more pages into your fantasy book and suddenly there's a sex scene. Usually, you'd just skim over the 'fruity bits' as your mom called them but now? Now it was as if Eddie had altered your brain chemistry and you found yourself absorbing every word in detail, thighs clenched together almost to the point of pain.

"What you reading?"

You jump visibly and look up to see Eddie couching over you, sodden locks leaving pitter patter drips on your legs.

"Eddie, you're dripping."

He smiles mischievously.

"Am I making you wet, sweetheart?"

You roll your eyes and replace your bookmarker, putting your book down to one side.

"Yes, Eddie, I'm soaking wet for you."

Triumph flashes over your features as you take in his wide eyes; so shocked at your reply he's nearly choking on air.

"You are strange Eddie. You can give it but you can't take it, can you?"

His eyebrows raise and he attempts to cover his flustered appearance.

"I'm just surprised, I thought you were a good girl."

Ignoring your heart thumping hard in your chest at those words, you shrug.

"And here I was thinking it was because you've had a crush on me since high school."

Eddie opens his mouth, and promptly closes it. When he speaks again it's quieter, almost like he's embarrassed.

"Who- how did-"

"Robin."

"Of course."

He stares at you then, all bravado gone. A moment passes where you both try and work out what this means, what the other is thinking.

Eddie coughs and stands up, breaking the spell.

"We're heading back to have lunch, if you wanna come."

He walks off then, not a further glance at you. Wondering if you upset him somehow, you gather your things and head back to camp.

********************

Later that evening, you're huddled around a campfire again having a couple of beers; or, in the case of Steve, several beers. Eddie had been civil, nice even, but there was no edge to him right now. You're not sure if you miss it or not, realising that you had actually grown fond of the push and pull between you, and that grin of his.

He'd disappeared at one point, and returned a little later with his acoustic guitar; beginning playing a little aimlessly, just background music to your tiny circle. He played beautifully; it really was mesmerising to watch his fingers dance over the strings.

"Play me a song, Eddie." You say, before you realise you were saying it aloud.

"Yeah?" He flashes a small smile and you encourage him by placing your hand on his knee.

"OK, just for you then sweetheart."

He breaks into a rendition of Should I Stay Or Should I Go, by the Clash. You're almost certain it's a jab at you because of last night and your failure to make your mind up. You don't mind; listening to the rest of the lyrics you realise you're hoping he means more than just a little in-joke. If you say that you are mine, I'll be here till the end of time.

When he finishes you all clap, Robin as quickly as a bird's wings flutters, and Steve just a little too loudly, probably due to too much alcohol.

"Thank you Eddie, that was brilliant." You smile softly at him.

"No problem sweets." He moves to put the guitar away but you wave your arm at him.

"Can I play something?"

A sharp intake of breath rings out from Steve and Robin but you pay it no mind. Eddie looks at you like he's sizing you up. Seems he comes to the conclusion that you aren't just going to pull some rockstar move and smash it on the ground, he passes it to you carefully.

You take it reverently in your hands and get comfortable with it, tuning the G string slightly as it was a little off when you heard it.

An idea springs to mind and you grin deviously to Robin over the fire, a grin which is reciprocated. She knows what you're about to do. The Band Camp thing.

You start to play the very beginning of a song extremely loudly, singly wildly off key.

"Kumbaya, my Lord-"

"Don't you fuckin' dare!" Eddie shouts, lurching a hand toward you to clamp over the fret.

"I'm kidding!" You giggle, prying his fingers away. Robin's laughing and Steve looks like he's about to burst, swaying in his seat.

"OK, no funny business."

"Not unless you ask for it." You wink, and start to play what you had intended all along.

"One pill makes you larger

And one pill makes you small

And the ones that mother gives you

Don't do anything at all…"

You lose yourself in the song, the melody. When you were younger you had just assumed it was nothing but a song about Alice in Wonderland. You knew better now, but it was fun to play and it suited your voice.

As you came to the conclusion your eyes fluttered shut and you sang out the last couple of lines like no one was even there.

"Remember what the dormouse said

Feed your head

Feed your head!"

Whooping and clapping finally reaches your ears as you open your eyes. Robin is going insane; Steve is shouting but it sounds slurred. Eddie just looks stunned as you pass his precious guitar back to him.

"You're incredible sweetheart." He looks genuinely impressed, staring at you with such intensity it makes you squirm.

"It was OK, my strumming's a little sloppy."

"But your voice! Jesus Christ, I've got goosebumps. You should sing, like, all the time."

You laugh, swatting him with your hand.

"I think that might get a little annoying."

"I'd love to listen to it all the time."

The sweet moment is broken by Robin gagging loudly.

"Munson that was so cheesy I'm gonna hurl."

He just shrugs, unbothered, and puts his guitar away. You didn't think it was too cheesy. In fact, you're breathless, thoughtless. The ache was settling back in, so deep in your bones there was no willing it away. It was clear; you needed him. Biblically.

As that realisation hits you like a ton of bricks, a soft thud breaks through to you. Steve has fallen backwards, already snoring.

"Well, looks like he needs to go to bed. Give me a hand guys."

Eddie stands up and lifts Steve bodily round his waist. Robin and you hover nearby, but he doesn't need your help after all.

Steve's giggling childishly, slurring words together.

"Don' wanna go bed, wan' sing too!"

"Sing in the morning, big guy."

You help Robin tuck him into his sleeping bag, as Steve mumbles Kumbaya under his breath.

Robin huffs. "I'll take it from here," and quieter, just to you, she whispers, "I'm putting earplugs in, go have fun."

"Robin, I-"

"Shhh you'll wake the baby. Just go, go!"

You leave the tent and see Eddie sitting by the fire, rolling a joint.

"Erm, Robin's going to bed too."

"Oh?" He looks at you, quirking one eyebrow. "Are you?"

"I'm not tired."

That shit-eating grin of his is back, tugging at the corners of his mouth slowly.

You sit down, right next to him, knees touching. He finishes rolling, licking it closed with a pointed tongue you can't help but stare at.

As he starts smoking, you finally let loose what's been on your mind all day.

"Why did you act funny with me? After I said you have a crush?"

He huffs a little laugh, blowing smoke through his nose.

"I thought that was obvious. I was embarrassed."

"Really? I didn't know Eddie Munson could get embarrassed."

He takes another drag and looks away.

"Yeah, well it happens. I don't like people knowing too much about me. Rather come across as mean and scary and-"

"-cocky?"

"Ha, yeah."

It's quiet again, but not a loaded quiet. You feel comfortable, almost enjoying the silence; just the slight rustle of pine needles in the breeze, and an owl hooting far away.

"You want some of this?"

Eddie's touch pulls you back to the moment, rough fingertips grazing you. The touch burns again, but differently this time. This time you melt under it.

"Can you, do that thing?" You ask in a small voice.

He smiles wickedly, straightening his legs out.

"Come here" He says as he pats his lap. You straddle him awkwardly, not sure if this is what he meant, but a firm hand grabs you by the ass and shifts you closer to him so your chests are flush.

"Like this?" You ask quietly, breathing the question.

"Just like that baby."

He takes a long toke and beckons you forward with one finger. When you're in range, nose lightly brushing his, he brings your chin toward him with one firm hand and presses his lips to your mouth.

Stiffening with surprise, you quickly soften, disarmed by his lips. You part yours and he breathes the smoke into you, allowing you to inhale deeply. Breaking away, you exhale the smoke downwards and look into his deep eyes.

"Do it again."

He bites his lip and smiles, flashing his teeth. He repeats the gesture; taking a pull, smashing his lips to yours and breathing into you. He doesn't let you pull away to breathe out; instead he presses his tongue into your mouth. Smoke burns your nose as you submit to him, the kiss becoming filthy and desperate as he grips onto the flesh of your ass.

Finally he lets up, if only to breathe. You're both panting, electricity in the air passing between and through you.

"I like it like that." You smile, hand resting on his chest.

"You keep surprising me sweetheart." He responds, hands kneading at the flesh of your hips.

A fuzziness rushes through every nerve, all of your body crying out, singing for him.

"You know, I don't mind cocky Eddie."

"Yeah? I thought I annoyed you."

"A little. But it kinda turns me on." You respond, rolling your hips into him.

"Oh fuck sweetheart," he roughly grips you, forcing you to do it again, "you drive me fuckin' crazy."

He's on your neck, kissing and licking at you almost tenderly.

"Eddie, please," you whisper, mind abandoning any clarity as he kisses you.

"Please? What do you need, sweetheart?"

How can you answer? What do you need?

"Eddie, I-I need you, please," you whisper into his ear, rocking against his hardening bulge.

He bites down on your neck, eliciting a gasp to spill from your lips.

"Tent." Is all he manages to say, and you stumble upwards on wobbly legs, to lead him to it.

Fumbling for the zip, you just about get inside it when you feel his hands on you gently pushing you forward. A small touch is all it takes and you're falling onto the air bed, knees bending as you collapse face forward.

He's on your back before you can think, firm arms caging you in from behind.

"You need me? Really?"

You nod, squirming underneath him, a small hand curling around his forearm.

"Dreamed about you saying that, fuck." He whispers, lips pressing to your shoulder, "turn around."

You can't find it in you to not comply. Wobbling the mattress, you twist to face him, engulfed in the intensity of his stare, illuminated by the fading light emanating from the fire.

"Say it again." It's soft, but ironclad in the centre.

"I need you Eddie."

"Fuck" He huffs, moving down your torso, pulling your t-shirt up so it kisses the edge of your breasts. He looks up at you with pleading eyes; a look that turns your insides to mush.

"Can you turn the light on? I need to see you."

He sounds so desperate, so in need that you waste no time in grabbing your camp light and switching it on, bathing you both in cool white light.

As he's pulling your top up, you assist and pull it over your head, flinging it to a corner.

"You are really beautiful." He says, drinking you in with his eyes, as a calloused hand strokes between the valley of your breasts. You slide under his confident touches, getting more anxious by the minute.

"Can I taste you?"

You nod, and he unbuttons your skirt, pulling your panties down with a roughness that makes you flinch. You're entirely exposed.

"I've wanted this, wanted you, for a long time."

You wriggle underneath him, and reply. "Didn't you get me like this last night?"

"This," he says, gesturing to your revealed flesh, "this is different."

You don't quite get it and want him to explain further, but his lips are on your nipples and all that comes out of you is a heady moan. A firm knee pushes your thighs apart and you bend to his will, allowing him to kiss down, and down, leaving hot pressured mouth trails to your stomach.

When his lips meet the tops of your thighs you cry out his name.

He understands, slipping his tongue between your folds and licking at your clit with pointed precision.

"Oh fuck!"

A chuckle emanates from his throat as he doubles his efforts, flicking and suckling at you in earnest. Thick fingers tease your entrance and one slides into your glistening opening, pumping slowly.

It shocks through your body, setting loose tendrils of pleasure so profound it's almost a religious experience. He prods another finger at you, sliding it next to the first and it burns, making you hiss.

Eddie mumbles platitudes into your pussy, telling you how good a job you're doing, how proud he is, how you're a good girl. His good girl.

The tension is unbelievable, clenching every muscle as your breath comes in short pants.

"That's it sweetheart, sing for me."

The fingers curl, stroking something incessantly inside you that rips a sultry groan from deep within your chest cavity, and without further warning your orgasm washes through. It collects and expands, a force of nature that flies out and collides like stars in the universe.

Your back falls to the air mattress, and that's the only signal you have that it ever left. You feel soaked in your own juices, thighs uncomfortably wet.

Eddie hovers over your face. You're not quite sure when he got there.

"That OK sweetheart?"

You don't reply, you can't. Your response can only be carnal, feeding into the biting, gnawing need that still refuses to lessen its grip on your core. Bringing shaking hands upward, you wind them into his hair and pull his face forcefully towards yours, tongue slipping in to taste your slick in his mouth, groaning at the tangy sweet flavour.

He collapses against you, full weight of his lithe body pressed into yours, but it's not enough. Pulling away and leaving less than an inch of space you voice your frustration.

"Eddie, please, I- I want you. I want you inside me, please."

Eddie shakes his head for a second, then deep brown eyes seek yours for any doubt, and come up empty.

"Are you sure sweetheart?"

The nod you reciprocate with is painfully fast, hurting the muscles of your neck. He looks uncertain, but discards his clothes, kneeling in front of you in his boxer shorts.

"I need you to be sure. I can't give it back."

You let your legs fall further apart, giving him the view of you open and ready for him.

"Please."

Underwear has never been discarded quicker. He has his cock in his hand, sliding on a condom from his crumpled jeans at record speed. A second later and he's towering over you, nose brushing yours and dick lined up to your sopping entrance.

His tip breaches you, so much thicker than his fingers, and you wince. You can tell he's trying to be careful, pushing into you slowly, watching for any signs you want to stop.

You're so full, and he just keeps going. A moment later and you let out a little startled cry as a sharp pain shoots from deep inside.

"You OK sweetheart?" He stops his movements, staring at your face with a worried expression.

"I'm fine, just, go all the way" you manage through gritted teeth.

He slips the last of it deep, deep inside as you yelp at the suddenness. Then, he's still, grabbing your hand and entwining your fingers with his over your head, his other arm holding him perfectly motionless above you.

"That's it, you're OK, so fuckin' tight, fuck," he says to you, kissing your cheek. It burns, the feel of him, but a fullness is beginning to overtake that ache.

"You know, I thought you were afraid of me in high school." He half laughs, kissing the tip of your nose. It's such a sweet gesture from the so-called frightening man that you giggle a little too.

"I was," you admit, staring into his deep eyes.

"Then, we come here and you look like you're gonna eat me alive. Then, you're all innocent, and now… fuck, I can't keep up."

You appreciate what he's doing, talking to you, distracting you from the pain. It helps; it's settled into a dull throb and your need from him is outranking it.

"Eddie, you can move."

With a peck to your lips he pulls out a little and thrusts back in, setting a slow and steady pace.

This is so much better than his hands, or his tongue. On every thrust he's massaging at something that makes you moan, again and again.

"You're doing real good sweetheart, my good fuckin' girl."

All of a sudden you feel it, all of it. His lean weight comforting over you, the squeeze of his fingers in yours, the throb of his member inside you, his words. It's all too much. Your eyes gloss over and a tear works its way down your temple.

"Oh shit, you want me to-" He starts as he slows down a little.

"Don't you fucking dare, please, please, I-I need-"

He grins at you; that self satisfied look that turns your legs to jelly.

"What do you need, sweetheart? Whatever you want, I'll give it to you."

"Harder Eddie, oh God!"

He snaps his hips into you with much more force; once, twice, three times and you scream his name, pussy clenching him hard, every muscle tense. As everything unravels you go limp, whimpering at the pulse that you can feel pounding in your core.

When your eyes finally decide to open, he's leaving kisses as light as a butterfly's wings on your cheek.

"Woah," is all you can say, between breathless giggles. Tears are falling but you don't care enough to wipe them away.

Eddie unlatches his hand from yours and does it himself.

"That was so hot. You need to do that again," he whispers, beginning to grind into you slowly.

"I nearly died Eddie, it might finish me off!"

He laughs back, but doesn't quit; hips still driving into you leisurely.

"What's life without a little risk?"

You stare up at him, biting your lip, a question on the tip of your tongue that you're too nervous to ask.

"What is it?" He asks, brow furrowed, as if you were about to ask him to stop.

"Can I… wait, don't worry."

He does stop then, to put his hand to your face and stroke you with his thumb.

"Hey hey hey, come on, what baby?"

You whisper it quietly, voice small and second guessing.

"Can I try, erm, being on top?"

You're surprised that Eddie's face didn't split in half from the sheer wideness of his grin.

"Holy shit, yes, please."

He winds his arms underneath your frame and flips you so fast your vision blurs, until he's underneath you. You sit up, his cock still buried within, and you gasp at the new angle.

"Eddie, Jesus Christ!"

Palms splayed on his chest, you control your breathing a little. This angle is devastating, pressing harshly against that place inside that has you throbbing around him.

Eddie chuckles darkly as his hands slide over the flesh of your thighs, rubbing back and forth, until they work their way to your hips and pull you up ever so slightly, only to drop you back down again.

"Just like that sweetheart, 'Kay?"

He tilts his head to one side, that mocking tone fuelling the embers of your desire. Rising up on shaky knees you pull off him and slide back down, trying to find some semblance of rhythm. Your clit grazes his pubic hair on one pass and you nearly lose it completely, the feeling sending a bolt of pure pleasure up your spine.

"Oh my God!"

"Yeah? That good?"

You hum and nod, words escaping you, now rolling your hips on each bounce to get that sensation over and over.

Eddie's talking now, watching how much you writhe and whine at his words.

"That's it sweetheart. Wanting to- oh fuck- ride me, on your first time. Oh yes, fuck, just like that- dirty, my dirty fuckin' girl."

"Eddie, oh God, can you, fuck, please-"

"What is it sweetheart? Anything, you can have anything."

His words embolden you, and before you can hesitate your hands are gripping one of his and leading it to your throat. You're not sure why, but you know deep in your core that you need it.

Eddie looks shocked by your moments but quickly recovers, fingers slotting around your throat, squeezing lightly at the sides.

Speeding up, feeling the pressure of his hand on your windpipe, you throw your body into each movement.

"Fuck Eddie, harder!"

He squeezes and you let go of everything, breath leaving you. All composure, all thought. It's just you and Eddie, and his hand, and his cock. Screaming aloud, you fold almost double, collapsing into him with a shocked, delicate whimper.

His fingers relinquish their firm grip, coming to rest on the back of your head in a comforting, tender hold.

"I was right, you are a freak."

Laughing aloud, you have just enough bones left in your neck to lift it ever so slightly. He looks surprised, sure, and really aroused, judging by his hooded gaze.

"Are you not… done?" You ask, as you feel his impossibly hard length still throbbing inside you.

"What can I say, I've got stamina."

That smug face is back, a flash of canines and confidence. You'd roll your eyes if it wasn't so sexy.

No time for a witty comeback though, as he holds you close to him and thrusts upwards with abandon. Colours swirl in your vision as you try to stay attached to reality, focusing on the feel of his skin, the pounding of his rhythm, and the light in his eyes.

"Fuck I'm close, I'm so fuckin' close. You're, oh shit, so- oh God, can't believe you're letting me do this."

Slack jawed and practically dribbling, you let him use you to chase his own release, trying to weakly meet his thrusts. A pulse deep inside is brought to your attention, and it's not yours. Looking at his face, you watch it awash with ecstasy as he holds you tightly and throbs his climax out.

His muscles melt, holding you still but so loosely that the lack of pressure surprises you, as if you were only aware of how tight his grip had been at this very moment.

The only sounds are the nightlife of insects around the tent, and panting, heaving breaths. Sliding off of him in an organic gesture, you curl up into his arms, finally feeling sated and at ease.

Lips are pressed into the top of your head, kissing you over your hair. No words are spoken; none need to be. For a shining moment, this is all you need. To be held, and cared for.

Minutes go by, and your eyelids begin to feel heavy. Before you drift off, Eddie breaks the spell cast over both of you.

"Was that OK princess?"

"That was incredible Eddie."

He kisses the top of your head again, then seems to remember himself.

"Fuck sweetheart, just, stay right there."

Clambering to his feet he pulls the condom off, tying it in a knot and discarding it into a corner to be thought of later. He's back then, spreading your legs.

'Eddie, you can't just-"

"I'm just looking after you sweetheart. You got some tissues or something?"

Furrowing your brows, you point to your wash bag near the foot of the sleeping bag. He paws through it wordlessly, and brings out some tissues and wet wipes.

"Sweetheart I'm so sorry."

"What's wrong?" You ask, panic riding your words.

"I've made you bleed." Eddie looks crushed, so upset at your prior pain, anguish etched into his face.

"It's OK Eddie, it's normal."

"You should have said. I'm so sorry."

You laugh a little, touched by his concern.

"I didn't know! It's alright, it doesn't hurt now."

Placated slightly by your answer, he cleans you both up as well as he can, before slipping into the sleeping bag with you.

A thousand questions perch on the edge of your tongue, but it's so warm, so cosy and right, that your body denies all words for a moment.

When you feel capable of speech you look up at him.

"Stamina, huh?"

He flushes, looking down at your smiling face.

"I may have tactically jerked off beforehand."

"When??" You giggle, fingers flirting over his exposed chest.

"When I went to get my guitar."

"Eddie, how did you know that-"

"OK, OK!" He grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles before hiding behind it, "I didn't know, not for sure. You just looked so good in that little two piece, I couldn't hold it in."

"Perv," you respond, but your eyes are soft.

"Yep."

Giggling, you slip into a calm, contented sleep in his arms.

********************

You wake up a little later than intended, no doubt exhausted from last night. The tent feels empty. Upon realising that Eddie's missing a dread settles in your stomach. Bile rises as you sling some clothes on. Maybe he's had his way with you and that's it.

Exiting the tent, you see he's just by the fire, trying to get it going again, a cigarette dangling from his pouting lips.

"Oh would you just- come on!" He says as he angrily flicks his lighter, trying to get the wood to catch.

You smile, relief washing over you, and walk over to help.

"I'm begging, come on- oh, sweetheart," he looks a little sheepish as he speaks to you, mumbling around his cigarette. "I was gonna make you coffee and bring it to you but the damn fire won't start."

You giggle, and rearrange the little pile, adding a few twists of paper to the base, and hold your hand out to him. He looks at you blankly for a second, then comes to his senses, placing the lighter in your palm.

With one stroke the papers alight, and starting to catch the rest of the twigs. The couple of logs won't take long to catch.

"Witchcraft."

"Nope, just girl scouts."

"You can go back in the tent if you want, I'll make you a drink."

"Eddie?"

"Huh?" He turns to you, pot of water in his hand.

"Good morning." You smile shyly at him. He grins, placing the pot on the ground and stubbing out his cigarette. Strong arms slot their way around your waist and you fling your arms around his neck, grinning stupidly at each other.

"Good morning. Good night?" It's framed as a question, and you know what he's getting at.

"Great night."

Smiling wider, he presses a kiss to your forehead. Puckering your lips to ask for a proper kiss, you hear a very loud cough.

"Good morning love birds." Robin wiggles her eyebrows at you both. You move to break away from Eddie, but he steals a kiss anyway, and pulls you close to his side, arm firmly around you.

"Is Steve alive?" He asks, looking at Robin.

"Well, he got up in the night to throw up, just glad he didn't do it in the tent. He's dead to the world right now. He's been singing in his sleep you know. Nearly suffocated him with a pillow."

You both laugh at that, and then hear a loud groan from the tent.

Eddie glances at you with mischief and shouts out towards Steve's tent.

"Harrington! Wanna sing for us, big guy?"

"Urgh." Is the only reply. Robin rolls her eyes and busies herself with the fire.

After a while, the coffees are ready; you all attempt to rouse Steve but he's gone back to sleep, groaning whenever you call out to him.

Then, it's just the sad business of taking down your tent. There's a special kind of melancholy reserved for such an occasion; pretty soon there's no sign at all that it was ever there. Afraid that your memories, your feelings, about last night would fade too, you walk over to Eddie who is perched on a stump fitting the last of his things in a bag.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah sweetheart?" He asks, still fumbling with his bag.

Do you still like me? Do you want to see me after this? Was this all a dream?

"Can I get a ride back with you? Steve and Robin are gonna be a while."

You gesture over to where Steve had finally emerged, whining and packing his stuff, tent still upright.

"Sure, anything you need." He flashes a tight lipped smile and reaches to grasp your hand briefly.

The ride back to town with him is chatty, even if it's only surface level stuff. Your rendition of White Rabbit had him fumbling around the glove compartment and pulling out a few older classic rock tapes that you happily listened to; music was a big part of your life, at least you both had that in common. His eyes light up whenever you talk about a band or song that he likes too, gesturing so emphatically with his hand you have to remind him to look at the road.

Pretty soon you're pulling up to a crossroads, except Eddie pulls over instead.

"What's wrong?"

He huffs, smiling at you sadly.

"If I keep driving forward I've got to say goodbye to you, take you home," he admits. Your heart flutters at the admission.

"Where do you live, Eddie?" He looks confused, but points to the left turning.

"Eddie, turn left."

"Really?"

"Really. I was supposed to stay at Robin's tonight anyway."

His grin is downright manic as he pulls back on the road, making short work of the drive to his trailer.

He bundles you out of the van and opens the trailer door, both of your bags heaved over one of his shoulders.

The sight of an older gentleman startles you as he potters around the kitchen area.

"Hey! This is Wayne, my Uncle. Wayne, this is my girlfriend."

Your eyes widen as he gives your name to his uncle and you shake hands with him, the roughest hand you think you've ever touched, but the softest grip.

"Pleasure to meet you, miss. I'm heading out today, so I'll see you two later I'm guessing."

He waves and smiles fondly at the pair of you, and leaves.

"Sorry, thought he would've left already." He explains, pulling you both to the back of the trailer and into what you assume is his room.

Allowing yourself to be led, still feeling shell shocked, you perch on the edge of his bed as he dumps the bags on the floor.

Eddie's talking, saying how he wishes he tidied before he left, how the trailer's not much but it's home, and his uncle…

"Eddie, wait."

He stops mid flow to look at you.

"Girlfriend?"

"Well yeah? I mean, if you want to. I didn't ask, did I?" He flushes pink, hand reaching up to nibble at his thumb.

"I mean, you don't know me, really." You shrink, almost folding in on yourself.

"Hey," he sits down next to you, stroking your jaw with his finger, "I know enough. And I let you touch my guitar. We're practically married now."

Lips press softly to yours, a delicate touch that has all tension flying from your body in a rush.

"Eddie…" You whisper, giving him a butterfly kiss with the tip of your nose.

"Hmm?"

"You smell really bad."

He laughs and grabs you around the waist, pulling you down sharply to lay on the bed.

"So do you."

"A point well made." A response, but you don't move, snuggling deeper into his neck.

"So, I've got an idea. Let's have showers, get into some comfy stuff, and cuddle. Probably got a movie or two we can watch?"

The normalcy of the situation is surprising, but most welcome.

Smiling wickedly, you nip at his neck and whisper in his ear.

"One condition: we shower together."

He groans loudly, hands stroking at any skin he can reach.

"Fuuuck, sweetheart, I've created a monster."

You laugh, and hold him tightly. Eddie Munson isn't so scary, after all.

Taglist (just some people I thought might like this, hope you don't mind!)

@eddiesprincess86 @zestychili @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @roanniom @usedtobecooler @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiemunsonfuxks

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bigboy-lovers-unite-writes · 2 months ago

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Imagine slapping their asses 🙏🙏

•Dutch; immediately pissed off, depends on who slapped his ass, he might push his cigar into their arm or something out of anger. Will grumble if it's his partner and shoo them away, smokes enough cigarettes after that to take away ten years on his life (it definitely made a camp deafening sound when they slapped it)

•Arthur; the most shocked face ever, just has to stand there for a minute to figure out whatever the fuck just happened. Will stumble over his words, before glaring at the person and chest bump them a few times, but secretly he's nearly popping a boner 💔💔

•John; eye twitches, trying to hold back grabbing his revolver and threatening the person. Says something sarcastic and crosses his arms like the dumb child he is. Will definitely be so damn embarrassed that he flushes as red as Sean's hair. Definitely blabs about it to Abigail later and gets huffy when she laughs

•Hosea; jumps a foot in the air and his body bends like a banana 😭 he's not mad, he'd never get mad, but he is a bit embarrassed about that. He sighs softly, tells a little story about his youth and how he would be able to handle it when he was younger as he rubbed his sore ass, then says he's too old for all that 🫶🫶

•Javier; yells out the loudest Spanish he's ever said, nearly falls forward from the shock of it as both hands go to cover his ass. Can't see it since he pulls his poncho up over his entire face, but he is burning bright red and thinking about it for the rest of the month. Will never trust being around the person again, will side eye them and cover his ass with anything if he's around them again 😢

•Bill; Two different ways this could go. One, he's drunk as a bitch and he hurls a beer bottle them and starts cursing and chasing them all over yelling about how he's no queer, even if it was a woman that slapped his ass, or he will just glare and threaten them a little bit and try to intimidate them if by god he's not drunk

•Kieran; actually stands up straight for once instead of being like a shrimp literally 24/7. Looks like a bug when you pick up a rock, eyes all wide and face flushed even pinker than it usually already naturally is. Definitely looks spaced out the rest of the day, probably can't stop thinking about it for sure

•Sean; gasps and is completely over dramatic, falling and pulling whoever slapped his ass down with him. Definitely tells everyone that the person slapped his ass, and he sounds strangely proud about it too..

•Lenny; poor boy doesn't know what to do, he's stuttering and gripping at his favorite book that he was reading, glancing around as he tried to say something. Might quirk a smile after a while, but it's whenever that person isn't around (he's so embarrassed don't do it again he can't handle it 💔)

•Micah; immediately cracks up and dares the person to slap his ass again, sticking it out slightly. He then promptly slaps that person's ass twenty times harder than they slapped his. It becomes a little game between the two whenever they see each other

•Charles; the absolute politest, might get a bit grumbly. 'oh my' is the first words outta his mouth 😭 will ask them why they did that and if it was supposed to be funny. He's like a mother in this sense, but also can't stop grinning since he actually liked it ❤️

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lordprettyflackotara · 4 months ago

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noise || ben drowned || maid!reader || (𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓵𝔂pasta au)

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: switch!stoner!ben, orgasm denial, thigh riding, face fucking, weed use (duh)

You awkwardly jogged down the main hallway, arms full of cleaning supplies. You had accidentally caught Jeff at a bad time, the pale killer soaked in blood and unhappy with his new wound that came from his victim. Pissing him off was not an intentional act, but it was one you were certainly going to pay for. Apparently tending to the blood soaked floor before him was insulting. You found this absurd considering you were the mansions maid, not doctor. Nevertheless your attention being focused elsewhere pissed him off, resulting in your feet pattering against the floor as you ran down the hall.

Your bottles full of various cleaners swished around as you turned the corner, your body ramming straight into an all too familiar blonde. A wave of marijuana invaded your nostrils, bong water splashing out of his glass piece and landing on the both of you. “Oh shit i’m so so sorry,” You say. Awkwardly you ripped off a paper towel, trying to dab at Ben’s shirt. Ben wasn’t much taller than you, a joint loosely hanging from his lips as he looked down at you. “Dont sweat it princess. Say uh, is there a reason you’re running a marathon?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. It was then the loud pounding stomps interrupted your conversation, your face turning red. “Where are you?! You little bitch!” Jeff screeched. Frantically you grabbed his army green hoodie, pawing at the fabric.

“Hide me!”

Ben may have been too high to fully comprehend your request, but that didn’t stop him from shoving you into his bedroom and shutting the door.

You gasped, a couple of your cleaning bottles falling from your arms. It was then you slapped your hand over your mouth, determined to keep quiet as Jeff’s storm raged on. “Where is she?” You heard him hiss, presumably at Ben. Unknowingly to you the blonde stood on the other side of the door, unfazed by Jeff’s absurd antics, “Where’s who?” Ben asked nonchalantly. Jeff angrily paced back and forth, his blood soaked boots littering the floor with footprints. “That little maid. You know who i’m talking about,” Jeff barked. Ben shrugged, taking his lighter out of his pocket. “Couldn’t tell you dude. Want a hit?” Ben asked, gesturing to the joint that he was now relighting.

Jeff dramatically threw his hands up, stomping away. “Jesus everyone in this mansion is fuckin useless,” He grumbled, continuing his hunt for you. You jumped as Ben’s door opened, the blonde stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “You look like a scared bunny, relax pretty princess. Here, try this,” Ben offered. You watched him inhale the joint, his pointy ears twitching as he did so. He hoped you couldn’t notice how much he was staring at your exposed breast in that slutty piece of clothing you were forced to call a work uniform. Somehow the lanky man’s calm demeanor made you feel somewhat relaxed. He seemed so much more down to earth than the others. So much so it almost made you forget he was a killer just like the rest of them. Almost.

Hesitantly you reached out, grabbing the joint and taking it in between your fingers. “I haven’t smoked since high school,” You admitted sheepishly, bringing the joint to your lips. You inhaled briefly at first, allowing the smoke to circulate around your lungs. “You’re gonna love this then. I get that premium shit. If there’s one thing you’re gonna know about me, you should know my green is always going to be out of this world,” Ben replied, confidence lacing his words. You looked so cute to him, awkwardly sitting on your knees on his bedroom floor. Band posters and neon led lights covered the walls, while groovy lava lamps and incense burned in the background. It was the cleanest creep room you had ever seen. As you exhaled you began to cough, your eyes watering as you handed Ben back the joint.

“Noted. Holy fuck that’s strong,” You gasped, trying to cover the sound of your coughs with your hand. Ben reached over to his mini fridge, digging past the unholy amount of monsters and handing you some bottled water. “Thanks,” You say in between coughs, tears flooding your waterline. The blonde sat himself down beside you, raising his hand and tenderly wiping away a line of tears falling down your cheek. You chugged the water, the icy cold liquid combating the fire that had engulfed your throat. “You’re cute when you cry,” Ben mumbled. If you weren’t so focused on your coughing, his suggestive comment would’ve made you incredibly flustered. You swallowed, regaining some form of composure after you wiped away your other tears.

“You too,” You managed to pant, referring to the stray drops of crimson blood that fell down his cheeks. Ben seemed unfazed by it, a mischievous grin creeping across his lips. “You’re a witty one. I can see why everyone likes you so much,” He chuckled. You watched, completely mesmerized as he exhaled the smoke through his nose. You let his comment slip past you, wanting to focus on the man before you and not all of the previous ones that had kept you up late at night. “Holy shit that’s so cool. Teach me,” You say, grinning lazily. Ben shook his head, inhaling and exhaling through his mouth this time. He pointed it towards the ceiling, the hazy smoke disappearing into the air. “Not this time pretty princess. I give it two more hits and you’re gonna be cooked,” He explained, causing you to roll your eyes. You became more relaxed as you inhaled this time, your coughs minimal and cleaning supplies long left discarded at the blondes doorway.

You leaned back against the closest wall, Ben sitting in front of you. He was so enchanted by your beauty, watching you hit the joint like a goddess. “What are you looking at?” You asked shyly. Ben leaned forward, tucking some stray hairs behind your ear. “You. You’re awfully pretty,” He mumbled, his words only audible enough for you to hear. You could feel your face turn red as you exhaled, the blue led lights concealing your blush. You weren’t sure what to say, the blonde making your stomach do unfamiliar backflips. “So, you save me from Jeff and now let me smoke your premium weed. How can I ever repay you?” You asked, nervously twiddling with your hair. Ben grinned, leaning forward. “Kiss me,” He murmured, desperation lacing his words.

You leaned forward, your nose brushing against his before you fluttered your eyes shut. You could feel your lips press against his, your high making every move seem much more longer and calculated. You pulled yourself closer to him, straddling his lap as you kissed him deeper. Ben was just as eager as you, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist as your hips slowly grinded against him. You mumbled a curse against his lips, your core growing wetter with excitement as he lowered both of you back against the floor. You leaned over him, kissing down his neck as he shuddered underneath you. “Someone’s desperate,” He teased, smirking as you grabbed the hem of his shirt.

“You’re one to talk. Your porn addiction doesn’t go unheard you know,” You countered. Shoving his shirt over his head you threw it elsewhere, kissing down his chest before reaching his jeans. “Watch yourself pretty girl. Porn has taught me a lot of things. Things that’ll make you cream your pants,” Ben snickered. Cockily he propped his hands up behind his head, watching you teasingly drag the zipper down with your teeth. You maintained eye contact with the blonde, relishing in the temporary sense of control. You then roughly tugged his pants down, desperate to suck his cock. Once he was exposed you eagerly began to suck him off, Ben kind enough to grab your hair into a makeshift ponytail. “Fuck, just like that,” He whimpered, biting his lower lip. You took him down to the base, allowing his tip to abuse the back of your throat as you deep throated him.

Ben was a whimpering mess, strings of curses with mixtures of your names falling off of his lips like a mantra. You continued to suck him off, watching as he grabbed a fresh joint from his pocket, lighting it. You hated to admit how attractive it was to have him smoking nonchalantly as you put your heart and soul into getting him off. “Such a good girl. My pretty princess,” He purred, shoving you down further on his cock. You gripped his thighs, gagging as he hit the back of your throat more aggressively. “Fuck, you’re so fuckin hot,” He grumbled, exhaling the smoke before face fucking you. Your nails dug into his thighs, the pain only bringing him more excitement as he abused your throat. Your gags and whines were heavenly sounds to him, the blonde in a pure state of bliss as he inhaled more of the joint.

Just when you thought you were going to run out of oxygen Ben pulled you off of him. A string of saliva connected you to his tip, your lungs grateful as you gasped for gulps of air. Ben smirked at the sight, dragging you towards him. He sat against the side of his bed, propping you up against his thigh. You whined as his jeans brushed against your clothed cunt, your panties damp from arousal. You went to move to straddle Ben properly, his large hands stopping you. “Go on pretty princess, ride my thigh,” He ordered. His sudden switch made you as a loss for words, your hands gathering handfuls of his hoodie. “Go on, don’t get all shy on me now. I’ve heard those cute noises you make for the others. Just wanna hear you make them for me,” Ben cooed. He smirked as he inhaled more of the joint. He pulled down your dress, your bare breast bouncing out before him.

“No bra? Naughty naughty girl,” He snickered. You whimpered as his hands guided you to grind down on his thigh, your small whines becoming louder moans. Ben leaned down and grabbed your breast, bringing it to his mouth as he guided you to ride him faster. You tilted your head back, moaning as his tongue swirled around your nipple. “Ben,” You groaned, your wet slick covering his jeans. You felt his hand slither to your panties, pushing them to the side so your clit had better access. You bit your bottom lip, unable to control your sinful noises as Ben released your nipple with a pop. “Oh that feels good doesn’t it?” Ben asked mockingly. Frantically you nodded in agreement, the cord inside of your stomach tightening. “So fucking close Benny, so close,” You panted. You were so close, your thighs beginning to tremble.

You were almost over the edge, before abruptly the blonde flipped the two of you over. Your back hit the floor, a gasp escaping your lips. Desperately you rubbed your thighs together, attempting to create friction. “Awe you didn’t think I was gonna let you cum that easily, did you?” Ben gloated. He nudged his way in between your thighs, grabbing your wrist and pinning them beside your head. “You’re gonna beg. You’re gonna beg me to fuck you. You’re gonna beg me like the little bitch you are to make you cum,” Ben commanded devilishly. Leaning close to your face he gave you a sadistic grin, your pathetic desperation only making his cock harder. “And if you don’t, you can go ask Jeff to get you off instead,” He countered. You licked your dry lips, your hips bucking upwards. He set the joint aside on an ashtray, awaiting your answer.

“Ben please, fucking please, I need you. I need you so fucking bad. Please,” You whined. Your pleas were shameless, your core throbbing in desire. Ben grinned at the sound of your begging, the words music to his ears. Quickly he aligned himself with your entrance, shoving himself inside of you. You gasped at how fast he bottomed out, your gummy walls clinging to his cock. “If you’re out here taking EJ’s dick I know you can handle mine. Now let me hear those pretty noises you love to make,” He grinned. Slowly and teasingly he dragged his hips out of you, before roughly slamming them back inside. You couldn’t control your unholy noises, Ben’s whines and whimpers almost as loud as yours. “Fuckin, shit-, fuck. Such a tight pussy,” Ben panted, ramming his hips into yours.

His cock abused your cunt as he pleased, your wrist burning under the carpet he held you down. His soulless eyes stared into yours, watching every micro expression you made as he pounded into you. You were seeing stars, your high combined with your body shaking from the pleasure bringing you closer and closer to the edge. “You’re so good. Feel so fuckin good, fucking shit,” Ben grunted. He leaned forward, burying his face into your neck as he fucked you mercilessly. His whimpers and whines sounded like heaven, your sinful noises bouncing off of his colorful bedroom walls. “Ben- i’m close. So close,” You warned. Ben then held himself up, his sadistic gaze staring right into your soul. “Hold it,” He barked. You tried to close your legs, Ben’s hips stopping you.

His thrust didn’t slow down by any means, the cord inside of you threatening to snap. “I-I can’t,” You stuttered. You bit your bottom lip, avoiding the blondes stern gaze. “You can and you will,” Ben growled. You threw your head back, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you came on Ben’s cock. The euphoria was heavenly, your vision temporarily turning white. As you came down you babbled apologies, Ben’s thrust now halted. He was still balls deep inside of you, his lips curling upwards into a sadistic grin.

“You shouldn’t have done that. I think I need to call reinforcements.”

Ben leaned over to his bed and grabbed his phone, putting it up to his ear. He grabbed his previous joint, relighting it as he dialed a number. You nervously listened to the dial tone, gulping.

“Hey Jeff, I got your little maid and she’s in need of a punishment.”

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double-aa-batteries · 7 months ago

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things about about TSC I can't stop thinking about

"hindsight was a backstabbing bitch"

curtains symbolizing jeans healing journey, how he keeps them closed at Abby's in a effort to recreate the nest in search of some normalcy, how he opens them and looks out the window his new apartment, seeking calm in his overwhelm

"I want to go home" (13) meaning evermore vs. "I want to go home" (329) meaning to his apartment with Laila, Cat and jeremy

the fact that jean's phone is probably still in Abby's freezer

Kevin "their kindness matters" Day

Neil's smile is as unsettling to everyone else as it is to him and he has so much more Nathaniel in him than he recognizes in his own pov

Jean is so similar to neil in that they're both petty, dramatic bitches who care deeply about their teammates' safety

riko and the ravens quite literally took jean's name from him (Jean-Yves, Jonny, Paris)

"[Renee's] love was so tender it looked like grief as it curled her mouth and made her eyes shine"

jean gets forehead kisses from Renee and Cat

"that creepy little goalkeeper Andrew Minyard"

jean's many nicknames for neil: tiny bastard, tedious malcontent, abominable cockroach, wretched little runaway, ignorant child, etc.

Neil took the bandage off of jeans 3 and promptly stuck it over Kevin's chess peice

"I should have let him kill you," Jean said. "Probably," Neil agreed, "but you didn't, so here we all are."

"...aside from his outstanding murder charge, there was nothing interesting about that fox"

the fact that the point of tfc was to show characters who couldn't/wouldn't/ or were unable to heal from the trauma they had faced and yet from the very beginning and without question, TSC is about jean clawing his way forward and toward healing no matter what

the cheese drawer

dadmack dialed up to 1,000 See: "i will burn this house down before I let them touch you"

bisexual jean Moreau panicking over his teammates in swimsuits and Jeremy's long legs

"He's earned the right to be arrogant"

riko couldn't bring himself to hurt wymack because he was Kevin's father and Kevin was like a brother to riko and riko has always yearned for a father's recognition

Alvarez has a motorcycle and jean didn't say no to learning how to ride it

we know next to nothing about Jeremy Knox despite having chapters in his pov (why was he in therapy? why was his dad in France? what the hell did he do at the Fall banquet his freshman year to tear his family in half?)

that being said: Jeremy Knox is a rich boy with a butler

everything about Catalina Alverez

the fact that Jeremy knox has two brothers and one of them is probably dead

"rather than force the Trojans underground for that part, they simply built steps up and over it inside the stadium" the JUXTAPOSITION

Alvarez cooks and so now does jean

we know for a fact riko subjected Kevin to "subtler cruelties" while he was in the nest

"they never should have said yes when you asked" and "I didn't ask"

"as if you can tell a girl apart from a cow on a good day"

"permission to break his face, coach?" jean asked. "denied," white said.

all of thanksgiving pt. II

"alarm looked wrong on a face born for smiling"

jean casually saying "your apologies are as useful as perfume on a frog" to Lucas

Neil's whole relationship with Jean

David "I believe we all have the choice to be better than the hands that shaped us" Wymack

Neil generally being a menace to society but especially "Neil, being the person he was, pointed at the fire hydrant adjacent to it's front bumper and said, 'thats illegal, just so you know.'"

"the cracking heat in his chest could have been his ribs snapping or his heart breaking"

#tsc #tsc spoilers #the sunshine court #aftg #all for the game #jean moreau #neil josten #andrew minyard #kevin day #jeremy knox #cat alvarez #laila dermott

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joequiinn · 7 months ago

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The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 6

[chap five] | [all chapters here] | [chap seven]

summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

a/n: I feel like this chapter took forever to write, but it was literally only a week (also shoutout to @eddiernunson for helping with it!)??? I put so much work into this one, so I can't wait to see what everyone thinks! Updates will probably change to weekly for the time being, as chapters are starting to get longer. Enjoy~~

wc: 5.7k

taglist: @a-queen-blr @costellation-hunter @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @eddiernunson @em0220 @frogtape @fromasgardandback @kthomps914 @lotrefcp @marrowfrog00 @mewchiili @munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @rach5ive @sav12321 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @steeldaisies @stormgrl19

Chapter Six

Eddie once again met you outside the school on Monday morning, waiting - presumably for you - near the front entrance. As you spotted one another, Eddie grinned flirtatiously, and you relaxed your face, realizing that before making eye contact with Eddie that your jaw was clenched and your gaze was harsh. You hadn’t realized how cold your neutral expression was up until recently.

Eddie pushed himself off the wall he was leaning against, meeting you at the front door in time to open it for you. The corner of your lip pulled up in thanks, and once you were both inside, Eddie rested his arm over your shoulders, causing you to let out a surprised breath as your neck grew just a touch warm. You were glad that you happened to have a book to hold and keep your hands occupied, as you just knew without it you’d have crossed your arms or let them awkwardly hang at your side; even in previous real relationships, you weren’t a particularly physical person.

“Princess,” He greeted mockingly, as if he knew putting his arm around you would make you tense.

Your eyes narrowed a little as you taunted back, “Freak.”

“I thought we said only nice nicknames.” Eddie turned his over-dramatic, sad eyes on you.

“I also remember telling you not to call me ‘princess.’” You retorted, intentionally avoiding his eyes.

“Ah, but it suits you, doesn’t it?” Eddie continued teasing as various students looked your way, some doing double-takes as they realized who you were walking with. Your eyes briefly flicked up to his face, but you looked away before he could notice your gaze.

As the pair of you approached your locker, you were almost disappointed that no one was lingering there prepared to try and drag you back in with the crowd you always knew. It was nearly surprising just how quickly everyone seemed to leave you in the dust the moment you started feigning any interest in Eddie - years of friendship really seemed to mean nothing, huh? But the disappointment didn’t show on your face, as it was outweighed by the opposite sense of relief that you didn’t have to put on too much of a show, that your plan had done its job almost too well.

Once you were at the locker, Eddie let his arm fall from you so you could shuffle around in your bag and your locker. You both took that opportunity to look around, and you nearly smiled when you realized Eddie was doing exactly the same thing as you - that he was looking for reactions, that he was looking for the faces of people that knew either of you. So, you noted, he seemed to be enjoying this charade, too.

“So,” Eddie eventually leaned against the wall of lockers to look at you as you fussed with your belongings, “my band has shows on Tuesday nights.”

“You’re in a band?” You ask with a hint of disbelief, looking up at his face for a moment, which furrowed a little at your question.

“I did mention I play guitar.”

“You didn’t mention the guitar or the band.” You countered smartly, to which Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Alright, fine,” You smirked to yourself while closing your locker, leaning your shoulder against it to mirror Eddie’s pose, “You should come to our show tomorrow.”

Before you could stop yourself, you made a critical face at the suggestion. Based on the way he dressed, you knew exactly the kind of music Eddie most likely played, and you were far from interested in that. And you had no idea if he was good or not, or who the hell his bandmates were - for all you knew, they were even bigger losers than him.

In response to your mean expression, Eddie narrowed his eyes, his jaw a touch tight, “Stop being stubborn. Maybe you’ll enjoy it.”

“I doubt it,” you said with an unamused grin. A moment later, Eddie looked past your shoulder, his eyes showing recognition for whoever the hell he was looking at. You whip around to see a friend of his, the one with the locker near yours; said friend appeared a little confused as he looked between you and Eddie.

Without warning, Eddie snatched your hand and dragged you in the other boy’s direction, causing you to nearly trip in the process. You, of course, glared at him for how quickly he pulled you along, but you said nothing as the two of you approached his puzzled friend.

“Gareth,” Eddie started with a charismatic grin, his voice loud with excitement that you weren’t prepared for. He tugged you alongside him, keeping a hold on your hand as if he were enjoying the fact that you couldn’t just pull away. With his free hand, Eddie presented you as if you were some prize, “You’re familiar with the resident ice princess.”

Gareth’s eyes went back and forth between the two of you, trying to keep his confusion from totally twisting his expression, which he did a poor job of. You, as well, were trying to keep your face from showing any annoyance or disorientation from this whole thing, although you were certain you instead just looked like a total bitch.

“Yes…” Gareth started hesitantly, his eyes finally settling on Eddie’s face, “I didn’t think you two knew each other, though…”

“Recent development.” Eddie shrugged nonchalantly, releasing your hand only to throw his arm on your shoulders again before you could retreat. You side-eyed him, briefly unconcerned with whether or not Gareth saw it - Eddie was being exceptionally annoying this morning.

“How did you two…?” Gareth pointed between you, his muddled voice trailing off.

You and Eddie looked at one another with realization - you didn’t have an answer for that. Neither of you had even considered that that was a story you needed, and you felt stupid for not thinking about it from the get go. Now, one of you had to come up with it on the fly; you weren’t sure if you’d prefer coming up with it yourself or leaving it to Eddie.

You should probably take this one, you decided - just your luck, if you left it to Eddie he’d come up with the most ridiculous story that could never hold up. Still staring up at him, you take a deep breath, prepared to come up with some explanation quickly, but Eddie beat you to the punch.

“We were meeting for a deal,” he began, and you briefly wondered if he was about to tell Gareth the truth, “chatting became flirting, so I asked her out on a whim; didn’t expect her to actually say ‘yes,’ though.”

Eddie gave you that charming smile of his, feeling your shoulders relax - that explanation was nice and simple, believable enough that no one would ask questions. It looked like it appeased Gareth, too, because his confusion didn’t appear nearly as blatant as it was a minute ago. You were sure he still found it odd and probably had minor doubts, but he didn’t seem the type to vocalize those things.

“She’s coming to our show tomorrow night.” Eddie added, to which you turned your harsh stare onto him again. Your mouth immediately opened to dispute, although you hesitated for a moment as you realized Eddie did this on purpose - he dragged you over to his friend and put you on the spot, thinking you wouldn’t be able to argue in front of someone else. And you nearly debated whether or not you should, however, the small, smug look on Eddie’s face was exactly the catalyst you needed.

“I never said that.” You stated simply, watching the surprise that crossed Eddie’s face; yup, he didn’t think you’d debate this if another person was involved. You could see the hesitation in Gareth’s body language, could see that he was still getting over the fact that you and Eddie were, apparently, together.

“I thought you did?” Eddie put on a very convincing look, pretending to mull it over, trying to set you up to agree to it. You’d hand it to him, he was determined.

“No.” You raised your brow to challenge him, and you couldn’t help the small defiant smirk that dared to cross your lips, “I’ll need some incentive for that.”

“Whatever you want.” Eddie said without hesitation, returning his attention to Gareth with a humorous smile, “She’s not so bad once you get to know her.”

To that, you gave his chest a little smack, meeting Gareth’s eyes, which remained just as perplexed as before. Your customary impassive expression was on your face, “No, I’m worse.”

Gareth nearly looked nervous until you finally cracked a small smile, although he still seemed put off - he probably didn’t know whether or not you were kidding, even as you grinned at him. Maybe you needed to relax and not scare Eddie’s friends too much, it may eventually piss him off.

Eddie gave your shoulder a squeeze, as if it were a silent plea for you to behave yourself. You looked at his face for a few moments, once again challenging him, before returning your eyes to Gareth with a sigh.

“I’m not that bad.” You reassure plainly, certain that you don’t sound terribly convincing. Nonetheless, Gareth’s face isn’t nearly as hesitant, although you knew he was far from coming around to you.

“You get used to it.” Eddie chimed in while giving your shoulders a little tug, a signal that you two should start walking, “Don’t let her scare you too much, Gareth, the power will go to her head.”

You gave his chest another small smack while you scoffed. Eddie simply grinned and shook his head in amusement; he gave Gareth a nod of farewell before you two began to walk through the hall towards your first class of the day. Once you were out of earshot, you looked up at Eddie from the corner of your eye.

“Don’t set me up like that.” You instruct plainly, trying to avoid any malice that you would’ve used on him only a week ago.

“Oh, lesson learned.” Eddie retorted with a small sound of mirth, “I should’ve known you’d enjoy being difficult in front of other people.”

You shrugged, finding some mild amusement in it as well, “I just can’t seem to help myself.”

“You can say that again.” The pair of you walk in an easy silence for a few moments before Eddie looks at you with hopeful eyes, “But you will come tomorrow, right?”

You raise your brows at him, your face showing your disagreement with the question, “It’s not like I need to - I doubt anyone will be there to see us.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe how easily his thoughts and feelings about you fluctuated - one second, he enjoyed your company, the next he found you tiresome.

“Oh, come on,” Eddie started, studying your face, “Are we dating or not?”

“Well--”

“Don’t answer that.” Eddie cut you off, knowing exactly what you’d say to his poorly phrased question. You nearly laughed, but tried to keep a straight face - you didn’t need Eddie seeing you amused while you were trying to argue your case with him, “You know you have to meet my friends eventually, might as well be now. And I’d bet your parents wouldn’t be so happy about you going to a dive bar with a guy they don’t even know.”

As you two paused outside of your classroom, you gave Eddie a scrutinizing look, mulling over his two points - the one about his friends was neither here nor there, but he did make a good point about your parents. And from the look on his face, you figured he also knew that it was a good point.

While you studied him, Eddie leaned towards your face, his voice challenging, “Live a little.”

You narrowed your eyes, wanting to argue despite knowing that you were already losing. As you stared at one another, Eddie raised his brows impatiently, urging you to agree already and stop being so stubborn. You finally shook your head with a sigh of defeat, your brow furrowing even more as a cocky grin spread across Eddie’s lip.

“Fine, I’ll go. But I’m not gonna like it.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

You sneered with distaste as you eyed the Hideout, your gaze critical as you took in the neon signs, the filthy windows, and the crowds of older bikers and alcoholics. This is the place Eddie dragged you to? You could kill him for not better preparing you for just how seedy and unsavory it would be.

Behind you, Eddie and the band were pulling equipment from the back of the van, the clatter of cymbals and their mingling voices drawing your attention. As you turned around, they all quickly whipped their eyes in another direction, quieting just a little - of course they’d been staring at you, talking about you. How could they not, considering that all of a sudden you were dating one of the losers amongst them. And said loser gave you a friendly wink as you met his eyes, but your attention turned back to his friends, making them all nervous with your intense gaze.

Admittedly, you loved that they were scared of you, loved that they were too damn nervous to even look you in the eye. You couldn’t help but find it funny, and you figured it would take a long time to get them to even talk to you without tripping over their words.

You crossed your arms as you looked back up at the bar again, frowning, “This place looks like a venereal disease waiting to happen.”

You heard one of them make a surprised sound at your comment; you’d bet the band was sharing shocked, nervous glances just behind you.

“Relax, princess,” Eddie flung his arm over you, his guitar case in the opposite hand, “just try to have fun, it’s not as bad as it looks.”

You gave him a smart look, “You say that now, but just you wait until some creep tries to grope me.”

Eddie blew air between his lips, “You’d probably scare anyone that even looked at you funny. Besides, you already let one creep grope you.”

He made a grabby hand over your shoulder as if to suggest he was about to touch you indecently, and behind you two the band chuckled, causing Eddie to grin largely. You gave him an affronted look as you hit his shoulder.

“Shut up!” You were taken aback by the joke, but you realized Eddie was probably all riled up by his friends - he was a boy, after all, they always said shit just to make their friends laugh.

“Sorry, sorry.” He raised his arms in surrender, his eyes apologetic as they met yours, “None of those jokes, I get it.”

You continued to glare at him for another moment before looking back towards the band. Eddie introduced the other two that you hadn’t met before, but you were already forgetting their names. Jeff? Grant? You weren’t totally certain. You could see a thoughtful furrow in Gareth’s brow as you glanced over all of them, and something told you to pay attention to him - you had a feeling he didn’t believe you and Eddie, that if anyone were to figure out your lie it would be him. That made him a far more observant friend than any of yours.

Eddie took hold of your hand and started dragging you to the bar, his band following right behind the pair of you. As Eddie held the door open, the sound of bluesy rock music met your ears, and you took in the various patrons and surroundings of the Hideout. You could immediately tell the Hideout seemed to cater to musicians - the stage was cramped, but well-loved, central with bright lights and a crowd formed to watch the band currently in the spotlight. The place wasn’t packed - after all, it was a Tuesday - but there were more people than you were expecting.

You could tell your group brought the median age of the bar down dramatically, everyone else looking 40 or older. As you made your way through the patrons, a few glanced at the band in recognition, one man even clapping Eddie on the shoulder as you passed. Corroded Coffin must have spent a lot more time here than you gave them credit for.

You stayed practically tucked into Eddie’s side as he led you through the Hideout, not wanting to get lost amongst the crowd of drunks. Once you reached the bar, Eddie greeted the bartender with familiarity, pulling you in closer to introduce you to the man with an eager grin, really selling that you were his girlfriend. His tone could’ve even fooled you.

“Keep an eye on her, alright, she’s trouble.” Eddie joked with the bartender, causing you to roll your eyes as they laughed.

“You look like you can handle yourself.” The bartender offered while meeting your eyes. Although he had a rough exterior, there was nothing about his gaze that felt off, so you gave him a small look of confirmation.

“That’s the problem.” Eddie teased, looking at you playfully.

You realized the rest of Corroded Coffin was already waiting in the wings, watching the other band finish up their set. Eddie gave your hand a small tug, drawing your attention back to him; he leaned down a little as he spoke, mouth close to your ears so you could hear him over the loud music.

“Stay here with Jack, alright?” He nodded his head towards the bartender, “That way I don’t lose you.”

“I thought you said this place wasn’t as bad as it looked.” You pulled back a little so he could see you raise a taunting brow.

“It’s not.” He reiterated, “but just my luck, you’ll draw trouble to you.”

You hummed in disagreement, “If there’s trouble, that’s on you.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Eddie grinned in contrast to his words, his eyes amused. He leaned towards you again as if he wanted to put on some show of physical affection, but hesitated; why did that ever so briefly make you nervous? Instead, he pulled his hand from yours while bringing his lips close to your ear again; you unconsciously flexed your hand now that it was free.

“We’re going on soon. Try to have fun.” Eddie took a deep breath before pulling back, and you almost thought that he had smelled your hair, but you figured that couldn’t be true.

As he’d done before, Eddie’s fingers grazed your back as he walked off in the direction of the stage. You watched him closely, the realization hitting you that this was a new place and you knew no one here. And it’s not that that frightened you or made you nervous, but the observation put you on your guard, made you a little more tense and aware of your surroundings.

Your eyes stayed locked on Eddie as he laughed with his friends, taking the stage to set up their equipment. You took the opportunity to study him, taking in the way his laugh spread through his entire body, the way he seemed to be so much more dramatic and playful and boisterous with his friends around. For a few moments, you didn’t even realize you were nearly smiling, although your expression quickly evened out with that realization. What the hell were you smirking about?

“Drink?” Jack’s gravelly voice asked over your shoulder, so you turned back towards the bar and eyed him momentarily.

“No, I’m not--”

He cut you off with a dismissive wave of his hand, knowing what you were going to say about your age, “Does this look like the kind of place that cares?”

His tone was matter-of-fact, and you smirked in appreciation at it. You considered for a moment what you wanted to drink, hopping up into one of the bar chairs as Jack watched you patiently, “What’s the girliest drink you know how to make?”

He laughed at the question, shaking his head but accepting it, “Ah, one girly drink coming right up.”

The corner of your mouth tugged back - there was something about Jack that instantly amused you. Maybe his grumpy vibes were entertaining, or maybe it was the fact that he found his own amusement in your drink order. Regardless, maybe it wasn’t so bad that Eddie effectively left this man as your babysitter.

The sound of a bass being tuned caused you to look back up at the stage. Eddie’s guitar was slung over his shoulder as he discussed something with the band, everyone looking prepared to start any minute now.

As Jack set a pretty drink in front of you, Eddie tested the mic, looking delighted at the crowd as the band finished their preparation. Again, you caught yourself smiling a little, blindly picking up your drink from the bartop as you continued to watch Eddie.

Of course, the almost endearing look on your face disappeared entirely once the music started. Just as you had expected, the drums were loud, the guitar thrashing, and Eddie’s singing rough and whiny. You couldn’t help the sneer on your face - this was so not your kind of music. Although the crowd seemed to respond positively, this just wasn’t your scene, and you unintentionally sat stiffly in your seat.

You hoped the lights were bright enough that Eddie couldn’t see you. Considering that his eyes hadn’t settled on you in some time, you figured the stage lighting made it difficult to find you. You just knew the disinterest that your body language exuded was bound to annoy him to some extent. Sure, you could fake being his girlfriend easily enough, but you couldn’t fake any interest in metal music. It was so damn loud and aggressive that it made your chest hurt and left your head confused.

However, once you got past that, you were able to study Eddie a little more. He was… actually good at this. You knew absolutely nothing about music, but just from watching Eddie you recognized how complicated the guitar was, how much skill it actually took to play these complex chords. His vocals were another story, but with that guitar Eddie showed an impressive amount of expertise, skilled hands with an intense care and focus. At one point, you nearly began to zone out while watching Eddie’s hands work up and down the neck of the guitar, and when you finally shook yourself out of the trance, you had to wonder just how long you’d been staring so damn intently at Eddie’s hands.

As the band played on, Jack brought you a second drink before you were even done with your first. You smiled in thanks before knocking back what was left in your first glass. Like any good popular high school kid, you’d been to your fair share of parties with alcohol aplenty, but that didn’t make you any less of a lightweight. One drink you could handle just fine, but it was always the second drink that started to make things a little blurry. So, you eyed your new glass warily, deciding whether or not you were brave enough to drink it.

But what did you have to lose? Despite its appearances, you were safe enough here at the Hideout, you figured you wouldn’t be out too late, and one more drink wasn’t going to totally mess you up. So, you grabbed the glass decisively, returning your attention to Eddie as you took a sip. You’d just cut yourself off after this one, no need to get plastered on a Tuesday night.

But damn it, Jack was too good a bartender, because as you were about finished with this glass, he put another in front of you. You furrowed your brows a little, stopping him before he could walk away and attend to the other patrons.

“I really shouldn’t!” You had to shout over how damn loud Corroded Coffin was - did someone turn up the speakers, or did they sound even louder because of your drinks? Jack leaned on the counter, his expression gruff but his eyes somehow still kind. He pointed in Eddie’s direction.

“Have one more, I trust that kid’ll take good care of you.” You made a doubtful face, looking between Jack and the drink. Unconsciously, you went back to sipping at the one in your hand, scrutinizing the bartender, “I’ve known Eddie since he was 14 - when I say he’ll take good care of you, I mean it.”

The comment was surprisingly genuine, causing you to cock your head curiously. Seeing something in your expression change, Jack gave you the slightest of smirks before turning his attention onto the other waiting customers. You realized a moment later that you hit the bottom of your glass; you stared at the melting ice briefly before looking at the new drink in front of you. Fine, one more. As you swapped the glasses, you hopped to your feet, forgetting that Eddie had asked you to stay at the bar.

That second drink put you a little more at ease; the loud music didn’t bother you nearly as much as it did before, and you didn’t mind pushing your way through the bar patrons anymore. You didn’t know where you wanted to go exactly, but you knew you needed to get on your feet for a little bit. So, you began to maneuver closer to the stage, keeping to one side of the crowd so you weren’t entirely packed between people. Your gaze stayed almost zeroed in on Eddie, taking in his stage presence thoughtfully.

Aside from him actually showing talent that you weren’t expecting, you also noticed how excited he was to be up there playing for people. The elation in his face, the animation in his body language - he had a lot of love for music, that was obvious to you. And because the drinks had been loosening you up over the course of the set, you realized that you were actually smiling as you watched him, actually enjoying the sight of Eddie live it up on this dinky little stage.

You didn’t even try to fight the look on your face, assuming that Eddie still couldn’t see you - you couldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that you were having a good time, after all. You even caught yourself tapping your foot along to the music at one point, as if the rhythm was beginning to make sense to you. It was more than just cacophonous noise - or at least that’s how it felt now that you were nearly three drinks deep - although you still didn’t quite understand the appeal of metal. Nonetheless, you found yourself trying to enjoy it.

It was as Eddie announced the final song that you finished your drink, leaving the empty glass on some nearby table. For a moment, you caught yourself wishing you weren’t here alone, wishing you could’ve dragged Amelia or Janet here to keep you company. Although the music and venue were far from anyone’s taste, this was exactly the kind of thing you all would have normally done together. But just as quickly as you thought that, you also remembered all the times Amelia had just disappeared on you at parties, all the times Janet flaked at the last minute when you discussed going to shows up in Indianapolis.

You got so caught up in your thoughts that you hadn’t realized Corroded Coffin just wrapped up their set. And you didn’t come back to yourself until a hand cupped your ass, immediately setting you off like dynamite.

You whipped around to find a grimy but otherwise nondescript man lingering behind you, a slimy look on his face. You were also briefly aware of Eddie’s voice calling something from the wing of the stage, but you were already in go-mode, arm reeling and swinging ungracefully to crack the guy. Your aim was a little off and you nearly missed, but you still managed to make contact, although with his throat rather than his jaw like you intended. If there was any pain in your own hand, you probably wouldn’t notice it until tomorrow.

As he stumbled back, you felt someone else come up behind you, and you were about ready to hit them, too, until you were spun around to face Eddie. He held your shoulders, but you still had to steady yourself by grabbing his forearms, meeting his shocked eyes with far too much of a calmness about you. Eddie’s brow furrowed as he looked you up and down then looked past you at the man you hit, then back at you.

“Jesus, can’t leave you alone, can I?” His tone was bewildered, as if he couldn’t believe he saw you, the ice princess, hit a guy. Sure, he knew you had quite a bark, but he didn’t know you also had a bite.

Thanks to the drinks in you, a laugh escaped your throat - was it a nervous one, or did you find the whole thing actually funny? You looked back at the man to see him already being taken care of, Jack dragging him out of the bar. No one else seemed to bat an eye at the ruckus, perhaps because they were used to it, choosing to carry on and ignore it. You met Eddie’s concerned eyes again, grinning uncharacteristically large.

“Fucking idiot.” Eddie looked nearly offended until he realized you were talking about the man and not him. He sighed, shaking his head with near mirth, still trying to wrap his head around this whole thing.

But after a few moments, he laughed - it was small and breathy, but when his eyes met yours again, there was definitely a glimmer of amusement there. He stepped back from you looking around in disbelief, a smile threatening to pull at his lips.

“Don’t piss you off, got it.” Eddie finally smiled while looking you up and down; now that the shock had passed, he was actually a little impressed by how it handled yourself. Feeling a touch sobered up, you shrugged in defense of yourself.

“Well, he shouldn’t have acted like an idiot.” Eddie chuckled at your comment, nodding in agreement.

“I didn’t know you had a right hook like that.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” You counter, swaying a little on your feet yet again, which made your statement nearly laughable. Eddie put out his arm in case he needed to steady you, looking you over heedfully.

“I think it’s time we get you home.” He says simply, putting his hand to the small of your back and guiding you towards the band as they packed up their equipment. You allowed him to lead you, although you rolled your eyes a little at how cautious he was being with you, as if you were a baby bird or something.

“Oh, come on, the night is young.” You say far too lightheartedly, making Eddie eye you with a curious look - after all, this lax attitude was incredibly odd for you. Is this how you always behaved when you drank? Open and approachable and even a little fun? He’d have to keep that in mind, keep an eye on you in the future.

“You’ll regret saying that tomorrow.” Eddie teased while grabbing his guitar case from where it leaned against the wall. Meanwhile, you relaxed against a nearby speaker, watching as the group finished collecting their belongings. You realized Gareth was looking at you, and rather than glower as you’d normally do, you instead gave him a tipsy grin. That seemed to confuse him even more, as he nervously looked back at what he was doing.

“You guys aren’t half bad.” You say to no one in particular, although they all briefly glanced up with varying degrees of surprise. Only Eddie smiled.

“Is that meant to be a compliment?” He ribbed. You playfully made a face, but didn’t grace him with a response.

Eventually, you and Eddie were back in the van, the rest of Corroded Coffin having carpooled separately. As Eddie pulled away from the Hideout, you watched him drive, studying his hands as they drummed on the steering wheel. Some metal music you weren’t familiar with played through the speakers, but luckily Eddie kept the volume low enough that your brain didn’t rattle.

Watching Eddie’s fingers move, you recalled his skill on the guitar, how easily his fingers slid over the strings, how his hands practically danced on the instrument. It was a talent that you actually found quite impressive, although you weren’t about to divulge that information to him. You turn your attention to his face, how the moonlight highlighted certain features; a sheen of sweat caused his bangs to stick to his forehead, his cheeks still flushed, a content look settled on his face. Once again, you found yourself zoning out as you stared at him.

“You were good tonight.” The words left your mouth unexpectedly as you continued staring at him, and Eddie looked over at you with disbelief, as if you actually giving him a compliment was so foreign. His eyes pulled you from your slight daze, and you tried to collect yourself but fumbled, “You’re good at… guitar.”

God, that sounded stupid. And as if to emphasize it, Eddie laughed merrily, clearly delighted by your own confusion in your phrasing. You glared harshly, hating the fact that you sounded so dumb.

“Your singing could use some fucking work, though.” You retaliated unnecessarily, huffing as you crossed your arms and slouched in the seat. Eddie’s laughter died down as he looked at your pouting face, although that in itself made him want to keep laughing. But he pushed down that desire, not wanting to get you riled up.

“Oh, come on,” he reached over to nudge your knee, his palm hot against your skin. If you weren’t so grumpy, you probably would have liked the feel of it, “Sorry… but thank you. Glad to know I’m good at guitar.”

You glanced at him, still glaring, but his expression was genuine and nonjudgmental, sweet even, and you felt yourself begin to relax.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #em #dos and donts

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night-night-stories-before-bed · 16 days ago

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Shameless

Warning ⚠️; internalized homophobia, Homelander is his own warning, toxic relationship, abusive relationship, fluff. 🔞

Pairing; Bottom!Homelander/Top!Male!Reader

Summary; John and you are two opposites. He is a comedian and a liar, you are bluntly honest and direct. He cares about his image, you don't. He is ashamed of your relationship while you are shameless.

~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat on the sofa sipping at your drink, eyes staring at John with amusement. Still in his costume, your lover walked in circle while biting his nail. He looked ridiculous in your eyes. All those fake muscles and the cape were too much. He looked always better naked, natural, and not so fake.

- “You are going to get yourself dizzy, my love. Just get out of those ridiculous clothes and come sit with me.” You said, waving your hand to show his costume. “We have so little time together, I would prefer having you by my side than whatever you are doing right now.”

John stared at you, eyes glowing red and you just laughed at him. You weren't scared, never was, because John couldn't kill you. No one could. It was part of your power, your curse, but in a moment like this, it was a blessing. Watching your lover get worked up for nothing was funny.

- “How can you laugh in such a situation?” John asked, voice hissing at you as you rolled your eyes. “Its a disaster! I cannot be seen like… like…”

- “Like the man you truly are?” You finished his sentence, sighing. “John, no one cares about that picture. Everyone will call it fake and those who don't, well who cares? Just discredit them and forget about it.”

John said nothing and looked away, his eyes back to normal. You shook your head as he kept walking around the room, trying to find a solution. You didn't understand him. Why come to you when you couldn't help when you were the source of this situation? Well, you weren't fully responsible. It wasn't you who had decided to kiss on a rooftop where anyone could see, that had been John.

And now there was a picture of you two kissing, your hands squeezing Homelander’s ass, circulating around the internet. It was, for you, hilarious. For John? The end of the world was happening.

- “Can't you stop being overly dramatic for five minutes?” You asked, harsher than you wanted.

You gasped in surprise as the back of your head hit the floor, hard, making you see stars. John had pined you down after knocking over the sofa and sat on you. You shivered, licking your lips as you plunged your gaze into his glowing one.

- “And can't you take it seriously for once? Don't you realize how serious the situation is for me? I am supposed to be perfect with no weaknesses and I can not be seen like that with another man.” John spat, his hand grabbing your chin painfully tight.

- “But you are not perfect John and you'll never be!” You replied with a sneer.

It was the wrong answer because next thing you knew John punched you and pain exploded in your jaw. Blood splashed all over your lover and you as your jaw hit the wall and fell onto the ground. From anger, John expression turned to horror as he realized what he had done. From amused, you became enraged.

You didn't gave John any chance and kicked him in the chest, sending the sup flying against the ceiling. You watched your lover fall loudly on the ground as you got up, spilling blood all over the place. You closed your eyes, pain swallowing you up as nerves, bones and everything else slowly regrew. Tears slowly rolled down your cheeks as you felt like your lower jaw was burning in the fiery pits of Hell.

You heard John begging, swearing he didn't mean to hurt you like that and you didn't care. What mattered was how he still did it.

You opened your eyes staring angrily at the hero still lying on the ground. You walked up to him and saw John tensing and closing on himself before you grabbed the man by the collar. Without a word, you back-slapped like he was a bitch, splitting open his lip before grabbing his jaw like he did to you. You leaned down until your nose brushed his.

- “Listen here you pathetic excuse of a man; you are nothing. You are not a hero, you are not perfect and you are not an inspiration. The only thing you are is a childish man who can't take no for an answer and can't live without the approval of the world.” Your words hit home as you saw tears building up in John’s eyes and you sneered again. “You are pathetic. Truly pathetic. The world loves the fake image of you and would turn on you at the first opportunity. Their love is conditional unlike mine and yet you chose those worms over me. I who had always been here for you no matter what. I who helped you bond with your bastard son and helped you when no one wanted to. I bloodied my hands for you! And after everything that how you thank me?”

Venom filled your words as you stared at your lover. John was silently crying and looked away, not daring to look at you. You felt betrayed, and humiliated. You did so much for that man child and he turned against you so easily. You didn't want to see him anymore, wanted him gone from your sight.

- “Think about it John. Who will take care of you when you are old and your body is betraying you? Who will be there for you when the world cheer for a younger and more attractive hero? Them? Your so-called fans? No. They won't, but I would have.” You said, turning your back to him as you walked away. “Now get out.”

- “I’m sorry! I didn't…” John tried but stopped as you turned your head, eyes filled with anger.

- “GET OUT.” You snarled.

And just like that John was gone. A soft breeze caressed your face after he flew away. Sighing, you cleaned the room and threw away your jaw. The pain still lingered and you massaged your chin before sighing. You hated fighting with John like that, but recently it was every other day. The more time passed the more he became unhinged and impulsive. You could barely recognize the man who sought love and attention, the man who melted under your hands at night seemed gone.

It was late that night when John came back. He didn't call, didn't text. He just showed up. You were in bed reading a book in the light of a candle when you heard your front door opening. Only John had a spare so you knew it was him.

He didn't come up directly and you ignored him. You were still angry at his stunt and, frankly, didn't wish to see him. Not right now, not tomorrow. But there he was, walking into your home as if it was his.

After a few minutes, you heard John walking up the stairs and coming toward your room. You didn't look up when he entered nor when he called your name with a timid and soft voice. Instead you clenched your book harder.

- “I thought I told you to get the fuck out of my house, John. What are you doing here?” You asked, voice cold as you turned the page of your book.

Your lover didn't answer. Instead, John approached the bed and put down a mix of things; a gift basket filled with your favorite snacks and drinks and another full of books. Sighing, you closed your book and turned your attention on John.

There he stood in civilian clothes and his head low. His eyes were still red and puffy from crying. Had you not been angry at him you would have hugged John. But you were still pissed off.

- “I am so sorry for what I did and said.” John whispered, looking away as he sat on the edge of the mattress. “I have no excuses and you are right. You've always been there for me and you didn't deserve any of this, but I did.”

You could see tears in his eyes and the sight was almost pitiful. Of course, John couldn't live up with what he did and would regret his actions. You didn't. The brat had deserved your words and hands.

- “I don't want… I can not lose you…” John whispered so low that you barely heard it.

You sighed and leaned back against your pillows, crossing your arms and studying him. John was clearly remorseful and you knew he had his lesson, for now at least. Shaking your head you gently tapped the mattress next to you and John didn't wait to lay down. He wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his face against your chest. You brushed his blond hair with your fingers, heart almost getting softer as you saw how happy he was now.

- “You are losing me, John. I don't know what the fuck is going on with you, but stop it. I don't have the patience to deal with your childish tantrum just because a picture of us leaked on the internet. We are celebrities, it's going to keep happening.” You said and your lover held you tighter. “Hush now. I forgive you this time, but I might not give you another chance.”

John nodded and didn't let go. You kept brushing his hair and let your fingers down his neck. He was cold, colder than normal and you could feel his heartbeat racing. He was scared and terrified which pleased you. Maybe he wouldn't go against you anymore, maybe he would stop thinking he could do as he wished.

After all, he was your pet, yours to use as you wished and you couldn't have a bad dog by your side. As much as you loved John, you didn't want him if he was to lose his mind and become a liability. But at that moment he looked so small and delicate in your arms, almost broken and you couldn't resist him.

You smiled as you felt his body relax against you as he slowly fell asleep. Maybe you could use his fear and remorse against him. Maybe you could force him to come clean about your relationship. Not now, the fight was still too fresh but soon enough he might give in. And once you were out to the world, John would truly be yours entirely.

#male reader #x male reader #x reader #fanfic #reader #the boys #the boys x reader #the boys x male reader #homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x male reader #writers #writeblr #writers on tumblr #short fanfic

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sugudoe · 3 months ago

Note

more headcanons but don't know what to do? what to write for? MAY I SUGGEST 🫵 JJK X SICK READER. HOW THE BOYS CARE FOR THEIR PARTNER.

ᡴꪫ a/n: hii, this took so long to be answered, but here it is!! gojo, for me, fix himself in all of this categories, but i put him in the first two, because he might be a little shit to anyone weaker than him, but never his loved one, right? idk, actually. @emilyywhyy

ᡴꪫ cw: sickness symptoms such as vomiting and headache \\ fluff and crack \\ english is not my first language

📲────𝗁𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗅 𓏸ㅤ۪ ︶ྀི

You don’t want to admit that you are sick. You will say that your nose is running because of weather change, and your shivers are, also, caused by weather change. You are fine, healthy as a horse ── except that the horse is nearly dying.

Don’t call attention, you think. So, you dress yourself in your uniform, and go to work.

He spot your illness right away, and have none of it. Grabbing your hands and taking you to your home. You can complain all you want, he doesn’t give a single fuck. You think you are above this sickness, but he knows better.

“Stop pouting.” He scoffs, as gently as a scoff can sound.

You, however, don’t stop. Even if you really, really want to. Because, after all, he has you wearing a comfortable pajama, sitting on the couch, and he is feeding you soup with bread.

The shower was hot, the medicines were taken, the carefulness of it all ── you love him, and he loves you. You will not say it, besides a small thank you. And he, the bastard with a smirk, will say “It’s alright.”

The pout is long gone, by now. You are desperate to sleep, and he lets you with ease, no kisses on the head, even if you complain (he will, a single peck). And while you fall to slumber, he will clean the house, keep tissues by your bed and, like a fucking psychic, a bow as well.

Throwing up in front of your boyfriend is not on the list of Things To Do With Your Love! But, hey, if he loves you while vomiting your organs out, maybe that’s good. Right?

Yes!

He is soothing, and calm, and collected. Let it be know, throughout your dazed weak state, that the moment you become healthy, he must be prepared to be smothered by your kisses.

He accepts them all, of course.

NANAMI, SUGURU, HIGURUMA, MEGUMI, SHIU, KOKICHI, NORITOSHI, GOJO

📲────𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗎𝗆𝖻 𓏸ㅤ۪ ︶ྀི

Oh, poor baby! No, not you, him. Yes, you’re sick, yes, the world is hammering your head. But, look at him, desperate eyes and clueless questions. So cute.

You didn’t got up from the bed today, and he leave you to it thinking you need your energy back from work, not knowing that you are dying. Dramatic, aren’t you? Yes, the light in the room is murderous, as much as the sound of him making food, but you can’t do anything about it, except try to sleep.

He can only take much of your absence before growing clingy. So, he marches his way to your room, and… where are you? “Bathroom,” you answer amidst a cry.

The light is turned off, and you are showering with your clothes. Weird little thing you are. Dumb little thing he is. Still not acknowledging your sickness. Not until you tell him, and like that, his brain goes into normal human being mode.

He showers with you, making you stand and lean on his also clothed body, you close your eyes and whimpers happily while he pretends the hot water isn’t burning his skin whole. More minutes in, he changes you both to warm sweaters, and guide you to the kitchen ── is nuggets good to eat while sick?

No. But you do anyways, and asks him to buy soup. He does, easily. Except, he buys all flavors, to the point where you know the sickness will go away and you still will have soup in your refrigerator.

He will feed you, cooing at your crying face. And, he will also lick the spoon. Dumb bitch, you think.

He knows where the medicines are, so he brings them all to you. You search until you find the one you need, and a glass with water is being given to you ── can you drink cold water? Probably no, but, again, you do anyways.

He is a cute sight for such a painful time. He does everything accordingly, even if he might make some mistakes. But, don’t worry, next time he will be prepared… A bit.

CHOSO, YUUJI, TOGE, JUNPEI, GOJO, YUTA, TAKUMA,

📲────𝖺𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𓏸ㅤ۪ ︶ྀི

He knows you are sick, and it’s not as if he doesn’t care, but he simply forgets that some people ── you ── are not as strong as he is.

So, fend yourself, love.

Just kidding. Kinda.

The thing is, he might be the not cute clueless boyfriend, but he learns quick, okay?

So, the first few hours, he will keep coming back to the room, trying to see if you woke up, even checking your pulse, when it become too much. And, when it does, it finally clicks to him, you’re sick as fuck.

Effortlessly, he raises you from the bed and give you a shower, holding your sleepy head while mumbling with himself. He might have said something rude, you won’t ever know, because he is massaging your head right now, and that’s the only thing that matters.

He puts you back in bed with one of his shirts and panties, and he rolls you on the covers like a burrito, before grabbing your burritoself to the living room.

He gives you medicine. It might not be the exact one you need, and just the first pill he seen, but it does ease the feeling. He, also, leave you alone on the carpeted floor before returning with soup and more medicine, this time it’s the right.

You feed yourself under his cautious eyes, he only does when your wobbling fingers bothers him, with a “Tsk” he feeds you.

You want to laugh. “Can you do an airplane?”

You finish feeding yourself. Worth it, though.

He comes back later, manhandling you again, to the bed. Surprisingly, he lies you on top of him, caressing your back and your head, kissing your temple and calling you his weak little thing, that he actually loves. Well, he doesn’t say that exactly, but you rather see it as that, even in your dazed state.

SUKUNA, TOJI, KUSAKABE

#♱ 𓂃 ࣪ ˖ on stage ! ᯤ #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #gojo x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader #choso x reader #megumi x reader #itadori yuji x reader #it’s too many i got bored #x reader #:)

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icallhimjoey · 3 months ago

Note

okay so what if for once joe was the drama queen cos he’s Big Mad over some stuff…how would that play out

this guy's a whole idiot, im not sure i like him all that much... Wordcount: 2.3K

---

I Prefer The Moon Anyway

“I’m sorry...”

If someone asked you without Joe in the room, you’d tell them Joe was being an unreasonable little bitch boy.

“I said I’m sorry.”

But Joe is right there, ignoring you, and you’re apologising just to apologise. You know he wants to hear it, so you’re giving him the words, even if they’re empty.

“I heard you.” Joe’s remark is cold. He can tell you don’t mean it. That you are just avoiding a fight. He doesn’t blame you, he wants a fight even less than you, but you’re annoying him in a way he doesn’t have the words for.

If someone was to ask him without you in the room, he’d tell them this is the exact point of a relationship at which he’d usually turn into stone. This is where he grows numb. Cares less. Starts to protect himself in silence and prepares for the inevitable break up that’s coming.

The beginning of the end.

“But what do you want me to do?” you ask, sounding a little more desperate and helpless than you want, but you can’t help it. Joe’s asking something ridiculously unreasonable. Something you can’t give him. Don’t want to give him. It doesn’t help that you think he’s actually being a dramatic baby who feels like he’s not gotten enough attention. A coddled man who wants the whole world to bend to his needs.

Joe just shrugs. Knows exactly what he wants you to do.

And to be fair, the world has bent to his needs for ages, so who is to blame him for expecting you to do the same?

Joe’s pouting.

He looks like a child who’s overdoing a sad face to get a little empathy from his classmates. Like the kids all across the playground need to see that he’s hurt. Like he needs to guilt-trip them into giving him the toy that he allegedly saw first so he stops crying and they can all be friends again.

You fucking hate it.

“Can you hear yourself, though?” you try for some logic. For some critical thinking skills. Does he see, in the grand scheme of things, how utterly ridiculous he’s being?

Joe shrugs again, but this time it’s conspicuously uninvolved. Like he doesn’t give a single shit about how unreasonable he’s being. He’s gone from acting like you’re burning down the whole world to suddenly acting like he’d rather live on the moon anyway. Burn it, bitch. Whatever. He couldn’t care less.

He won’t reach out to touch you tonight. He’s going to break your one rule if you keep this up. All because of schedules that never seem to coordinate – something that’s neither his fault or yours.

“I sure can. Can you?” Joe bites back, wants to hear a sincere apology from you. He wants to hear in your voice that he’s right and that he’s not selfish for wanting what he wants. For feeling the way he feels. Not his fault he loves you.

That’s what he’ll bring it back to – always.

He just loves you a lot.

How can you hate him for that, Big Wet Brown Sad Eyes™? Hmm?

Which... it’s so unfair.

And selfish.

He wants you to drop everything at a moment’s notice because he needs you right now. Doesn’t give a shit about what you need.

It’s fucking selfish, is what it is.

And the problem is that Joe’s selfishness is exactly what’s put you where you are now, in his living room, in a weird fight that you would both rather not be a part of.

“Please repeat what you’re asking of me.” You narrow your eyes at him as you look over your shoulder, convinced that he knows he’s wrong and that he should be the one apologising to you.

“Is it too much to ask of my girlfriend to spend time with me?”

You sigh. You’re so frustrated. That’s not what he’s asking of you - that’s what he’s dressing it up as, which is unfair. What Joe’s asking is for you to drop your work at a moment’s notice because he’s suddenly found an evening off in his schedule and he decided he wants to spend it with you. But he hasn’t actually checked to see if you have the time. Just assumed that you did.

A risky assumption to make.

Because you don’t.

“You know I barely get any time to myself, I don’t know when I’ll have a night off next... could be weeks.” Joe places both hands on your shoulders to give you a little squeeze there. Massages the muscles in places he knows are tight just from the look of you. Gets his mouth close to your ear and lowly says, “Come on, baby. It’s just one night.”

You need to finish work.

There’s a deadline tomorrow you need to make, no questions asked.

Your evening plans surround you and your laptop and a wifi connection, and you were hoping you’d maybe get to sit in the same room as Joe as he would do some work of his own. Some prep for next day’s scenes. Some reading, some rehearsing.

Not this.

Not Joe trying to coax you into a bad performance review just because he felt bored that one night he suddenly found himself with a hole in his agenda.

“I’m here,” you say dryly, but you know that’s not what he means. “You can spend time with me whilst I finish all of this up.”

Joe communicates it with a look. A drop of his face and shoulders, letting you go and stepping away. Eyes rolling because, that’s not fair. He wants to take you out. Go some place nice. Talk and laugh and spend some actual time with you. See if some of his other current colleagues want to join, so he can introduce you.

And it’s awful because that’s what you want too. But you feel like you’ve wanted that a million times, and every time you’ve tried to plan something, Joe’s been busy. Always so busy. Table reads, night shoots, long hours, long commutes, a party here, an event there. And it’s always, “Babe, it’s for work, I can’t just cancel.”

Yet, that’s exactly what he’s asking of you now.

“I don’t know why you assume that your time is more valuable than mine.”

“I don’t think that at all! When have I ever said that?”

It’s how he’s acting. It says enough.

“Listen to what you’re saying; you’ve got a bit of free time. You do. You. Not me though. Not tonight. Does that sound familiar? At all?”

The tables have turned, just this once. He can just fucking deal with it like you have all those times before.

“Don’t. You know that’s not–”

“So your job is more important than mine?”

It pays more, Joe thinks immediately, but refrains from speaking the words into the room. Knows that won’t help, but it’s definitely telling how quick the comeback came to him.

“Hmm? Your time more important than mine?” You push.

Joe needs to realise that, if that’s actually how he feels, how outrageous the thought is. Just by your face, he needs to feel how those thoughts need reevaluating.

“You’re putting words in my mouth.”

You’re not. You’re just reading his body-language.

“Your priority is you. You have a free minute and so I’m supposed to just work my way around your schedule and– mind you, you didn’t even know about this until this afternoon! This deadline at work has been there for months!”

You should’ve stayed at the office.

Finished up there.

Joe is pacing now. Walking around his own living room with flared nostrils, taking in your words until you leave enough room for him to say anything.

Which, when he finally gets a chance, he drops an insane bombshell.

“Well, if you hadn’t procrastinated everything until the night before, maybe we wouldn’t be where we are right now.”

Oh, what the fuck?

Did it take too long for you to set the world alight? Did Joe think it necessary to douse it in petrol and hold a lit match between two fingers a little too loosely? One small move from you could be used as an excuse to drop it, and full blame could be placed with you.

Clever.

But so are you.

You don’t make a move.

Not a single fucking muscle.

You just stare at him over your laptop screen.

Frozen in place.

And Joe stares right back.

It’s like a fucking duel.

You remember a time where you were in Joe’s shoes. The ones he’s wearing right now. The difference being that, back then, there were actual plans made that you’d been looking forward to, and then two days before, Joe complained about having to cancel on seeing family. He added that it’d be the third time he had to dip out on something, and how that made him feel like an awful person, but his job was just too demanding right now. People wanted him everywhere, all of the time, and whilst he typed away at his phone to apologise to his mum, he didn’t see how your face fell too, because you knew if he was telling family members he couldn’t make it to something, he was also going to have to cancel on you.

Again.

You’d cried, then. Only silently. Wiped a tear away quickly and masked a sniff as a deep breath, because you didn’t want him to feel worse.

Trust Joe to feel guilty for having to cancel on family for the third time and forget about the person in the room with him.

You then wondered if he ever kept count with you.

“You okay?” he had asked when you’d fallen silent, and you’d smiled and nodded. “Yea, just tired.” which wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the full truth that Joe accepted it as.

Idiot.

It was fine. It wasn’t his fault.

You’d taken your frustration out on him later that night, when he left your toothpaste uncapped on the side, and you’d grumbled until the lights in the bedroom got turned off, and Joe reached out to you under the covers.

The one rule.

Even if you were upset, or angry, or wanted to fully murder each other, you had to at least still touch each other in bed. To let the other know that, yea I’d rather fucking shout at you until I go hoarse right now, but I still love you.

It could be a big toe touching a shin, or an elbow digging into a bicep – a touch was a touch. An I love you hidden in the dark.

And you had accepted it easily then.

Yea, it was annoying that Joe’s work dictated so much of what your relationship could even be, but it wasn’t his fault, so there was no use blaming him for it.

That was then.

You don’t know when you’d grown past the point of simply accepting all the bullshit. When you decided to maybe not brush things off and be the cool girlfriend who was there for her boyfriend wherever and whenever, especially in all the moments he wouldn’t have been there for you had the tables been reversed.

Like right fucking now.

You are still staring at Joe across the room when you see how suddenly, he starts to blink his eyes rapidly. See how suddenly, his jaw starts working. You know he’s biting back tears and, no – you won’t fucking have that. This motherfucker can cry on command and you don’t doubt for a single second he’d use that to get his own way.

“Don’t fucking guilt-trip me into losing my job.”

Joe’s immediately offended.

He drops the match.

“Well, I’m sorry for being disappointed.”

World on fire.

“Do you want me to leave?” you spit out, louder than you initially thought you’d make your voice go.

“No, no,” Joe immediately says, but it sounds patronising, even though he’s on the verge of tears. Like he actually means yes, please leave, because what good are you going to be to him having to sit at his kitchen table and do work all night.

“Stay. Make your deadline.”

You ignore the sarcastic bite and take a second to sit back in your chair and assess what needs doing. How long it’ll take you all. What time you’ll likely be finished. You conclude that, if Joe’s gonna be moping around, giving big sighs from across the room, that it will likely take twice as long.

You should leave.

“No, I should go. Get this done and then see you after.”

It’s the last thing Joe expected. For you to go on your own merit. Because of your work that needs doing, and not because you’ve gotten into a huge fight. You’re not storming off and screaming how you never want to see him again. You have work to do and want to see him after you’ve finished it.

It’s stupid how fast everything inside of him flips.

He doesn’t actually want you to leave.

He wants you to shut your laptop and sigh lovingly and mutter, “How could I ever resist you?” through a smile before you kiss him silly and follow him out into the night.

But instead you shut your laptop and bend to pick up your bag from the floor to stick it into and, no, that’s not what he wants.

“No, wait... wait. I’m sorry.” he says he before he even realises what he’s doing. Unsure if he really means it. He just doesn’t want you to get up and leave. If anything, he’d like to talk more and get you to eventually prioritise him over everything else. “Stay. We can... you can finish work and then we could do something after.”

You drop your head all the way back and take a moment to let your eyes dart to all corners of his ceiling.

What if you don’t finish this until after 11? After midnight? Is he just going to watch you work from the sofa and ask you how much longer every three minutes because he thinks you’re taking too long?

You should leave.

“I should go. I’m probably better off at the office, actually. It’s where I’ll get it done faster, I think.” You say all of it kindly. Stick your laptop into your bag calmly, no jerky annoyance in your limbs. But you don’t make eye-contact so he can’t use the Big Browns on you, and instead of trying to stomp on the flames to make the fire go out, he wafts a fresh gust of wind right over them, making them climb much higher.

“All right, fuck off then. See if I give a shit.”

If someone asked you without Joe in the room, you’d tell them Joe needed a moment to calm down and you’d talk to him in the morning after you’d made this deadline.

You didn’t start the fire.

Joe did.

And he’d figure that out eventually.

If someone was to ask Joe without you in the room, he’d tell them fuck her, apparently she doesn’t give a shit about him, and actually, that’s totally not a problem at all, because he prefers the moon anyway.

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @demonsanddemogorgons

@djoseph-quinn, @dolcevitalifestyle, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer

@everythinghasafacee, @ferfan14, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @gri959

@hanahkatexo, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven

@kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr

@munson-mjstan, @munsonssweets, @nadixq, @niallersfreckles, @notverywise

@pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @prettiestboyreid, @readergf, @royale1803

@skulliecadaver-blog, @sherrylyn0628, @shizlac, @solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson

@sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow

@witchwolflea, @yunirgo

add yourself

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfic #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfiction #joe quinn x Y/N #joseph quinn x Y/N #icallhimjoey #rpf #i #i prefer the moon anyway

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loaksky · 2 years ago

Text

— 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮

the deets — lo'ak is the black sheep in the family, clinging to honor by a precarious thread. you are the well-loved songstress in the tribe. he should resent you for being everything he's not, but his fickle heart can't bring him to do so.

the who — lo'ak x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 10.2k (rip yall)

the tags — (one-sided) rivals-to-lovers, angsty angsty, hurt / comfort, reader gives lo'ak a big ol smooch (perhaps more than one), lo’ak is the biggest dumbass and because of this he’s mean asf, reader has a big ol heart and just really wants lo’ak to like her, aged!up characters for maturity’s sake.

the warnings — language, lo'ak is in luv but doesn't realize it, he's in denial that the feelings could be reciprocated, this is super dramatic so put your seat belts on!

the notes — was feeling extra sad and wanted to write something self-indulgent. this lovely anon requested something, and i used their ask as inspiration to finish this beast. fine line, bags, and love in dark are the three main songs i listened to finish this, so if you wanna be in your feels, have a listen LMAO. despite all the support, i’m still so mf nervous posting this ejsjsjdjs

masterlist

SOMETHING UGLY KINDLES IN THE PIT of Lo'ak's stomach at the mere mention of your name. It's sour on his tongue, bitter in his brain. He doesn't know when he's started to feel like this, started to feel absolutely dreadful anytime he'd hear the timbre of your voice.

It's warm, thick like nectar and it makes him sick.

Ever since you all were little, the elders crooned over what a great girl you were growing into; strong, intelligent, beautiful. It made him boil how much they'd sing your praises, the high esteem everyone held you in as one of the clan's most talented.

Something dull would pick at him being compared to his older brother, but nothing burned more than being compared to you.

Maybe it's because it's always implied whenever your names share the same sentences, that lingering implication that he could be more like you. The clan fans the flames of your mere existence while Lo'ak is snuffed out like a dying fire.

He hates it. He hates you.

He thinks.

It'd be easier to, if you were awful behind the scenes. Arrogant, stuck up, but you're none of those things. You're kind, gentle, mighty when you need to be. It doesn't help that you shine like the brightest star, engulfing everyone in your light, in your warmth.

But Lo'ak resists. He sees right through you, sees right through every saccharine smile you send him. He can see it in your eyes, how you really see him. Despite standing a full head taller than you, he sees the way you look down your nose at him.

It grates his nerves, how disgustingly sweet you are towards him despite all attempts to rebuff you.

Certainly doesn’t soothe his ego when you always seem to be around the bend every time he gets bitched at by the clan, eyes soft and filled with pity. To add insult to injury, you frequently tail him like a shadow after these moments when all he wants is to be alone.

Like now, you linger.

It's after dinner and Kiri and Spider stand before him. They come together like the three points of a triangle and you stand an awkward distance away from them.

Kiri notices you first, her face splitting into a big smile as she waves you over.

Lo'ak breathes a deep sigh before locking eyes with Spider who tries his best to suppress an amused grin.

“Hi,” you chirp and Lo'ak can't help but roll his eyes.

Spider and Kiri greet you eagerly. Lo'ak simply nods his head in acknowledgement before tightening his fist around his dagger.

“We going or what?” he finally says.

You perk up.

“Where are you guys heading off to?” you ask curiously, hands clasped behind your back.

Spider opens his mouth to answer, but Lo'ak cuts him off quickly.

“No where important,” he says, unsure if you'll blab about their whereabouts to the elders, or worse, his parents.

You roll your lips and shift on your feet.

“Can I come?” you ask hesitantly, eyes hopeful.

Kiri's smile grows as she links her arm with yours.

“No,” he says sharply. “Absolutely not.”

Your face falls and something pulls inside his chest when you fail meet his gaze, your frown barely perceptible.

You make a move to pull from Kiri's grasp, but her arm tightens through yours. She levels Lo'ak with a weighty glare and you fidget uncomfortably under his narrowed eyes.

“Don't worry about it,” you say, like someone's hit a reset button. You smile that pretty smile and Lo'ak wants to scream. "It's okay, I think Rutan needs help with clean up."

You slip from Kiri's grasp and the three watch you walk off.

“Do you always have to be such a bitch?” Spider scoffs a disbelieving laugh.

“She's just gonna tag along so she can snitch,” Lo'ak grumbles.

“Oh c'mon,” Kiri argues. “________ just wants friends.”

Lo'ak sneers.

“I don't want to be friends with her,” he says firmly, knuckles white around the handle of his knife.

“Weirdo,” Spider mumbles. “She’s cute. Think she likes you.”

Lo'ak's spine stiffens.

“It's an act” Lo'ak grumbles. “She just wants to look good in front of the elders to keep up whatever nice girl show she's putting on.”

Kiri rolls her eyes hard.

There are moments when Lo'ak thinks he's being harsh, but he can't help himself. It's like he loses all semblance of a filter when it comes to you.

“Hi, Lo'ak,” you greet him sweetly, lowering yourself onto the fallen log he's perched on, fashioning arrows to practice with later on in the evening with Neteyam.

He shifts away from you, putting the distance of two bodies between the two of you as he pauses his task at hand.

“Hi,” he says flatly.

“Can I help?” you ask tentatively, fingers twitching towards one of the untouched sticks in a pile next to his feet.

His kicks them closer to himself, out of your reach before leveling you with a sharp glare.

“No thanks,” he says quickly and you recoil slowly, letting out a shaky laugh before fixing that stupid smile on your pretty face.

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize, straightening in your seat.

A silence so uncomfortably palpable settles over the two of you as you shift so that your knees are turned towards him.

His throat bobs when his gaze travels from your little toes all the way up to your inquisitive gaze, golden and searching. It makes something unruly settle in his gut and he turns his attention back to carving his arrows.

“Do you need something?” he breaks the silence finally. “I'm kinda busy.”

You bite your lip before scooting a little closer to Lo'ak's hunched figure.

“My birthday's coming up,” you start.

“I'm aware,” Lo'ak almost scoffs.

It's all the clan has been able to talk about for the past few days. How they'd be able to prepare for the golden girl's next birth cycle and what they'd be able to do to make you smile the brightest.

“Your birthday is a week before,” you state and his head whips towards you.

“How do you know that?” he asks sharply, accusation heavy in his gruff tone.

You flinch and he falters for a moment before your smile simply widens.

“We grew up together, Lo'ak,” you say and the way his name sounds from your mouth sounds absolutely heavenly. “You're my friend.”

Friend.

He scowls at the term.

“We're not friends,” he bites back.

If the statement bothers you, you don't show it, simply tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before putting on a brave face.

“I want to celebrate with you,” you say shyly.

“Hard pass,” he says too quickly, gathering his sticks and fashioned arrows under his grasp.

He leaves you in the clearing on your own.

You must be fucking with him. You have to be. It'd be the only explanation for why Jake pulls him aside a few nights later and tells him that you've requested to work with him and Neteyam during archery practice.

“No,” he says stiffly, shaking his head.

His dad levels him with a hard glare and Lo'ak sighs deeply.

“She's a nuisance, Dad,” he argues. “Me and Neteyam are making good progress with our training and we'll have to start at square one if she joins.”

“Lo'ak, this isn't an ask,” Jake says sternly.

“But, Dad!”

“Lo'ak.”

Lo'ak huffs, snatching his bow and quiver angrily before storming off.

“You're doing great,” Neteyam says to you once the three of you have convened in the training circle.

The three arrows you've shot have all landed within centimeters of the mark and to say that Neteyam is impressed is an understatement. Lo'ak, on the other hand, fumes not-so-silently as he tears his arrows from his target.

Yet again, you have another person wrapped around your finger and it makes his blood simmer as he assumes his position at the marker and loads his arrow. It splinters through the air and hits the target right on the bullseye. The arrow punctures through the hide and lodges its way into the wood from the sheer force of Lo’ak’s shot.

You start at him moon-eyed, lush lips breaking into a full smile.

“Perfect shot,” you observe. “That was awesome.”

Lo’ak scans your features hesitantly before his gaze flits to his older brother, waiting for any acknowledgment that he’d done a great job, but Neteyam is taking notes on the arrows still stuck in the fabric of your own target.

His heart sinks.

“Fuck this,” Lo’ak grumbles, bundling all of his belongings.

He stalks through the clearing, past his brother, to leave you two.

He doesn’t know what fuels the fire more, the fact that Neteyam didn’t even bat an eye at the feat they’d been practicing for for the past three weeks because he was too immersed in you, or the fact that you bore witness to his first clean shot and gave him that sickeningly sweet smile that made his stomach turn.

“Where are you going?” Neteyam sighs.

“Somewhere you two aren’t,” he grumbles under his breath, ducking through the brush of the lofty forest.

You lick your lips, locking eyes with Neteyam as you give him a bashful grin and slowly break away to follow Lo’ak’s path.

He isn’t far ahead as you push through the vines and low-hanging leaves, the path lined with large plants and the spindly roots of the looming trees. The grass is plush between your toes as you scamper to follow Lo’ak from a distance, watching as his lithe body climbs through the dense flora.

“Why are you following me?” he calls after a few dozen paces, stopping in the middle of the path to whirl on his heel.

His golden eyes are syrupy, warm despite the edge, and you can’t help but flash him your pearly whites in a genuine smile that takes up your dimpled cheeks.

“Why’d you run off?” you ask him. “You were doing so well!”

His chest rises and falls with a scoff.

“You can give it a rest, you know?” Lo’ak says flatly, fist so tight around his bow he feels like he’ll crush the wood.

Your expression morphs, eyebrows furrowing in a way that makes Lo’ak throat bob, something pinching behind his ribcage.

“What?” you ask, frown marring your pretty face.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you can stop acting like you wanna be friends with me,” Lo’ak says matter-of-factly.

“You are my friend,” you protest quietly.

Lo’ak rolls his eyes.

“Dude, whatever,” he mutters, turning his back on you.

“Is it so wrong?” you murmur and he stops in his tracks, refusing to meet your gaze. “To be friends?”

Friends.

That stupid fucking word again.

Lo’ak bites his tongue and stalks off, leaving you on the path.

Neteyam rips him a new one when he sees him at dinner later that night. Lo’ak hangs his head as Neteyam digs in.

“Is it so hard to be nice?” Neteyam asks, hand squeezing his shoulder as they stand a handful of meters away from the main circle.

As his eyes wander, he notices you sitting with his sister, head thrown back in laughter that glitters and wafts with the rising smoke of the fire. He swallows turning his attention back to his older brother.

“Just don’t like her,” he admits. “I want her to leave me alone.”

“You don’t like her or you like her too much?” Neteyam asks, brow bone raised.

Lo’ak’s face scrunches.

“Ew, no,” he blurts. “Why would I—”

“________ just wants to fit in,” he sighs. “She has trouble making friends.”

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Lo’ak mocks. “I don’t know why Kiri and Spider are always up her ass, she’s—”

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam warns.

“Dude, everyone is always ________ this, _________ that! I don’t understand what’s so great about her—”

A throat clears and the brothers both turn their attention to the newcomer. Lo’ak could groan in frustration seeing that you’ve abandoned your seat and now stand nearby with two wooden plates.

“They’re going to start cleaning up soon,” you say hesitantly. “Wanted to bring you some.”

Neteyam takes it graciously from you, nodding his head in thanks while Lo’ak stares down at the plate you’d arranged for him, abundant in vegetables and thick cuts of meat.

“No thanks,” he says flatly.

You try to coax him.

“C’mon Lo’ak, you say gently. “I know you haven’t eaten yet.”

“No thanks,” he repeats stonily, holding his hand up.

You offer up the plate again.

“Lo’ak–“

“I said no thank you,” he grunts, annoyed.

He’d only meant to push it back towards you, but one second it’s in your hands, the next you’re wearing dinner, the plate clattering onto the ground.

“Lo’ak!” Neteyam scolds.

“Shit, I didn’t–”

“It’s fine,” you breathe an airy laugh and Lo’ak freezes when he hears your breath hitch. “It was an accident.”

“Oh, ________…” Neteyam sighs, but you’re picking up the plate and scurrying off, ignoring the nearby snickering.

“Whatever you got going on, you need to cool it,” Jake scolds him in the family tent after dinner that night. “________ is a good girl, she’s trying to find her place. Can’t really do that if you’re gonna be a jerk to her all the time.”

Lo’ak resists the urge to roll his eyes because, yet again, someone is sticking up for you, admonishing him about how he could be nicer, how he could take you under his wing, how he–

“What about me?” Lo’ak argues. “I tell her to leave me alone all the time, but she doesn’t listen. Why do I have to be nice to someone who doesn’t respect–”

“Cut the bullshit,” Jake thunders. “You haven’t even tried being her friend.”

“Why should I?” Lo’ak counters.

“Because maybe you two are more alike than you’d care to learn,” Jake says knowingly. “Now go apologize.”

“Dad!”

“Go, Lo’ak.”

Lo’ak sucks in a deep breath before squeezing his eyes shut and blowing out through his nose.

“Fine, fine, whatever,” he grumbles, ducking from the tent into the humid night air.

He starts into the jungle, fingers brushing over the leaves and petals of the plants and flowers. He takes the moment to regulate his pounding heart in his chest before trying to wrack his brain for any words that he could scrounge into a believable apology.

When he crosses the glowing waters of a skinny brook, something rustles nearby and his hand is on the hilt of his dagger in the blink of an eye.

He turns to face the noise, knife drawn, but then you emerge and his body relaxes a fraction.

“Fuck, ________, you scared me,” he sighs in relief.

You fidget and swallow down the lump in your throat.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly.

A brief silence dawns the two of you and Lo’ak notes that you’ve cleaned up from the evening meal’s debacle, now wearing a longer loincloth threaded with round pearlescent beads that refract the luminescence of the surrounding forest.

Your grasp tightens around a leather bound journal and for a moment, he wonders what you could be writing about.

When you follow his gaze, you shyly tuck the journal behind your back and give him an uneasy smile.

“I wanted to–”

“I came to–”

Your words clash and you breathe a little laugh through your nose as you gaze at him with brilliant eyes. You start closing the distance and Lo’ak’s hands grow clammy.

“You first,” you offer.

Whatever threads of an apology he’d crafted in the moments prior have evaporated now that you stand before him, absolutely glowing.

“Lo’ak?” Your head tilts and his cheeks warm.

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely. “For what happened at dinner.”

You shake your head quickly.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you assure him, reaching out to touch him.

He recoils, clearing his throat as he retreats to put an ample amount of distance between the two of you.

You eye the berth and something shutters across your face as you rock back on your heels and flash him another uneasy smile.

You haven’t even tried being her friend, his dad’s words echo like a call in the night. Maybe you two are more alike that you care to learn.

Were you? You and Lo’ak were as different as they come, you molded by the love and adoration of the clan, him built up by the lessons and lectures he received from his parents and Neteyam.

“Where are you going?” you ask, blowing by the previous conversation.

He shrugs.

“Dunno,” he admits. “I was looking for you.”

The way you freeze is almost covert, your lips rolling as you try to hide the smile threatening to split your face.

“Oh,” you hum. “Wanna go for a walk?”

No, he wants to say. He absolutely does not want to spend anymore time with you than he has to. Likes to believe that he wouldn’t even bat an eye if he were to never see you again, but you’re looking at him expectantly and his dad’s words are like a mantra in his head, so he agrees begrudgingly.

It’s awkward at first, silent except for the natural soundtrack of the vicarious jungle. But like you do so well, you break the silence and Lo’ak has to resist rolling his eyes for the third time that night.

“What are your favorite colors?” you ask suddenly.

“I dunno, green?” he offers.

“Are you sure?” you laugh quietly.

Lo’ak thinks a moment before nodding his head.

“Yeah, green,” he finalizes. “And blue.”

He barely notices that you’d fallen behind, and when he turns to look over his shoulder, he sees that you’re scratching something into your little journal.

“And your favorite fruit?” you press, nose still between the pages.

Lo’ak breathes out a laugh and your head shoots up.

“What? You gonna send this list to the lab?” Lo’ak asks.

You give him a shy smile, shifting on your feet.

“No,” you say softly, then whisper to yourself, “just compiling a list to win your heart.”

Lo’ak barely hears you, ears twitching as his eyes narrow in confusion.

“What?” he asks.

You snap your notebook shut, shaking your head quickly as you pad through the grass to catch up to him.

“Nothing.”

Something ripples in the fabric after that night, you and Neteyam both notice when Lo’ak enters the training clearing the next afternoon and greets you with a nod instead of flat out ignoring your presence like he had the last training session.

And you think that the moment is fleeting, a one off, but as the days progress, you realize that maybe Lo’ak is finally softening around you.

He stays for entire lessons, the most minute of smiles twitching at his lips whenever you compliment his shots. He waits near the edge for you as you pack up your things, and while the walk back to the village is a quiet one, you bask in his company, triumphant when he doesn’t run off.

And while your evening walks are few and far between, you savor the moments he affords you, wedging yourself between him the crumbling walls of his facade.

Tonight is one of those moments, sitting on adjacent branches overlooking the lively forest, when Lo’ak lets you peek farther into his life than he’d originally intended.

“He never understands,” he sighs, popping a few berries from his satchel past his lips.

Tonight’s topic is his father and you listen intently, eyes fixed on the way he reclines on the branch and looks up at the stars.

“I try hard, you know? To make everyone proud, but all they see is my failure,” he says, obviously annoyed. “No matter what I do, it’s not good enough.”

“You do great things, Lo’ak,” you say quietly, the first words you’ve said all night.

And like your voice is a reminder, Lo’ak’s spine goes rigid, throat bobbing as he realizes that he may have said too much to you. He’s getting too comfortable and you’re all the willing to absorb every insecurity and every worry he has.

But something about quiet moments like these makes him loose-lipped, eyes fluttering to where you’ve got your notebook balanced in the seam of your thighs, scrawling something on the pages as you eat your own berries.

The words are leaving him before he can stop them.

“Easy for you to say,” he murmurs. “You’re perfect.”

The laugh that escapes you startles him and a few of the berries he was about to devour slips from his fingers and plunk down the leaves.

“I’m not perfect,” you assure him.

“Only someone who’s perfect would say that,” Lo’ak grumbles, peering over the edge of the branches to spot his fallen fruit. “The whole village loves you, everyone’s always so ready to bat for you.”

You look down at the pages of your journal with a sad smile.

“It’s a lot of pressure,” you admit quietly. “Everyone’s watching your every move, waiting for you to mess up.”

Lo’ak shifts uncomfortably.

You continue.

“And most of the villagers our age don’t like me,” you say, thumbing one of the pages. “They say I kiss ass, that I’m always trying to keep a leg up.”

Lo’ak winces, knowing that he’s the source of at least one of those sentiments.

“The elders think you’re honorable,” Lo’ak argues gently. “You’re talented, you have something to offer the people.”

“Honor means nothing if you’re bound by it,” you say finally, closing the cover to your journal. “If anything, I want to be more like you.”

“Like me?” Lo’ak asks incredulously, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

You nod, smiling at him.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I think you’re brave, fearless. And even if you care what people think, you do what you want.”

Lo’ak is quiet, taken aback by your confession.

Before he can respond, you’re gathering your things, bidding him a warm farewell as you begin climbing down the tree to disappear into the night.

After that night, you think that maybe you’re just imagining things, that you’re reading too much into the fact that Lo’ak has begun to finally act like you exist, but then Kiri says something and the hope sends your heart soaring.

“Seems like he finally got his head out of his ass,” she says a few mornings later as you two stand near a shallow stream, eyes peeled for any fish you two could bring back to the village.

“Think so?” you ask nervously, arrow trapping the flailing fish to the pebbles of the stream’s bed.

Kiri shrugs.

“He actually pays you mind now,” Kiri observes. “That’s a step up for sure. I think you just need to spend more time with him.”

You smile, splashing through shallow waters to capture the fish and add it to the growing pile in the basket between you and the middle Sully.

“Yeah?” you wonder

So you test the theory, basket filled with various peeled fruits and a little container of nectar you squeezed from the petals of a flower.

It doesn’t take long to hunt him down. When you enter the training circle, he’s packing up his things, quiver strapped to his back and bow in his fist.

Before you make yourself known, he’s turning on his heel to face you, eyes wild as he swallows down the lump in his throat.

He’d be the last to admit that the last night you two spent together was branded in his brain, that his mouth had dried up so much so he felt his tongue could crack.

There were so many implications in your words and it horrified him, scared him so much that he knew he couldn’t let you that close again.

But now you stand before him, pretty as can be, hopeful even, and he’s at a war with himself, absolutely caught between resenting you for being everything he’s not and giving into the draw.

“Hi,” you greet, basket heavy in your hands.

You look more radiant than usual, skirt brushing the forest floor, the woven vine of your top banded to expose your midriff.

“Hey,” he replies hesitantly.

“Where you going?” you ask curiously.

His throat bobs as he gestures behind him.

“Hunting,” is all he says.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” you ask eagerly.

He doesn’t. He shouldn’t. Because things are shifting and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stomach the change. If he’ll be able to admit to himself that you’re wearing him thin, that you make him feel things he’s never felt before and that it makes him feel like he has no control.

Because when it boils down to it, you make him lose control, make him lose his filter, and make him feel every emotion twice as hard.

“No,” he says.

And in that moment, you feel like you’re back at square one, watching as his eyes turn stony and his jaw sets firmly.

“You shouldn’t go hunting on your own,” you say softly. “Will someone be with you?”

“It’s fine,” he argues. “I’m fine.”

“I can go with you!” you offer. “I thought maybe we could sit by the stream and talk, but we can go hunting instead. We can–”

“No,” he says again, pinning you with eyes so lethal, it makes you wonder if you really had imagined the moments you shared with him, if you had imagined Kiri telling you that she saw it too.

You try again anyways.

“It’ll be good practice and–”

“I said no, ________,” he barks. “You’re dead weight and I want to be alone.”

Your lips seal and you bite the inside of your cheek.

Lo’ak could nearly scream in frustration when he notices the way your shoulders sag and it makes something in his heart cinch.

“Okay,” you agree, nodding quickly. “Be safe and–”

The words die on your tongue when you notice the look of annoyance on Lo’ak’s face.

Lo’ak is in deep shit, you come to find out hours later.

You sit outside of the training circle, knowing that Lo’ak will return down the path after his hunting trip. What you don’t expect, however, is Jake and Neytiri emerging with the entire line of Sully kids and Spider.

Jake grips the back of Lo’ak’s neck tightly as they march past wandering eyes, straight to the family tent. You don’t miss his wounds though, varying in depth, some bleeding, some sore.

You’re hot on their heels, standing right outside of the entrance as Jake tears into the middle Sully.

“Time and time again, I have to get on your ass for doing the complete opposite of what I ask you to do!” Jake’s voice is thunderous inside the tent. “Do you not realize that you not only risked your life but your sisters’ too?”

There’s a beat of silence before Jake continues, obviously pacing from the way his volume fluctuates.

“And what were you thinking bringing Tuk? She’s nine, Lo’ak!” he shouts, the anger and the hurt evident in his tone.

“I’m sorry,” Lo’ak mumbles.

“Yeah, I bet you are!” Jake scolds. “I don’t ask for much. All I want is for you stay in line. Just stay out of trouble and work hard on your training. I paired you with ________ and Neteyam in hopes that maybe you’ll tighten up and be more like them, but you’re always disappointing me.”

You frown.

Whatever Lo’ak had done probably didn’t warrant such deep admonishment and something tugs especially hard at your heartstrings knowing that all he wants to do is make his dad proud.

“You’re surrounded by good influences, but you always have to go against the grain, Lo’ak,” Jake says, the edge in his tone softening. “I’m getting tired of the bullshit, son. You need to clean up your act. Hear me?”

“Yes sir,” Lo’ak says quietly, voice almost a whisper behind the hide of the tent.

“Now go get yourself cleaned up,” Jake huffs.

Your spine is straightening when you hear foot steps closing in, holding your breath as the flap to the tent billows open and Lo’ak is emerging.

His eyes flit to yours and his expression sours further.

“Lo’ak,” you murmur, reaching out to him.

He’s shrugging you away, wincing when a wound on his shoulder stretches especially taut.

“You’re hurt,” you say quietly. “I’ll–”

“Leave me alone,” he says, eerily level.

“But you’re–”

“I said leave me alone, ________,” he warns, pushing past you in what should be the pursuit of his grandmother’s quarters.

Instead he’s making a beeline for the jungle.

You’d seen the look in his eye before he stonewalled you, seen the hurt and heaviness that most people didn’t seem to notice because he was always so adventurous and carefree.

You follow after him.

“Lo’ak, you know he’s only worried for you,” you try to reason gently, fingers reaching for his own as you duck under massive leaves and fluttering insects.

He whirls to face you, swatting your hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he bites. “You don’t know anything.”

You swallow, holding your hand to your chest as you watch him lay down every brick to wall himself off.

He hates it. He hates how you look at him, how you seem to pity the life he has to live. It makes him sick, thinking that you two have it the same. He’d rather be hated for being great than hated for being a let down. It’s insulting, how you think you know how it feels.

“Let’s go back. I’ll wrap your wounds and–”

“Of course, clan’s golden girl is gonna patch me up and make it all better, huh?” he seethes facetiously. “Just fuck off!”

You flinch, blinking at the boy you holds so much rage in front of you.

“I know you’re hurting, but you don’t have to be mean,” you whisper, taking in a shuddering breath to will yourself not to cry.

“Mean? Mean?” Lo’ak bristles. “I’ve tried telling you to lay off nicely, tried telling you to just leave me alone, but you don’t listen. You just pry and overstep and you make every little thing about you! Oh, it’s so much pressure, villagers our age hate me, of course they would! You already have everything and just have to go rub salt in the wound!”

You shrink, eyes welling as your lip trembles.

“Lo’ak, stop,” you whimper.

“We’re not friends, ________.We never were and we never will because I don’t like you,” he spits. “Now please, for the love of god, will you just leave me alone!”

The forest is silent save for Lo’ak’s ragged breathing, fists clenched as he glares down at you.

“I-” Your breath hitches and you choke out an apology. “I’m sorry.”

Lo’ak’s heart softens a fraction as you take a step back, turning quickly on your heel.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you rasp, tripping over your own feet as you stumble into a run, putting as much space as you can between you and the middle child who stands in the middle of the forest, unable to wrangle every harsh word he’d said to force back down his throat.

You dropped your journal.

Lo’ak is sure you’re looking for it, know that you’ve always got your nose stuck in it. You had dropped it running off and now he has its leather bound in his hands.

It’s been a couple of nights since the faithful evening he’d blown his top and he’d only seen whispers of you. It was so unlike you to disappear, to not be entertaining the masses as they fell to your feet.

He’d cooled off significantly, and when he replayed the conversation in his head, he winced, body folding in on itself as he realizes how harsh he’d been.

“Are you actually thinking thoughts?” Spider claps him on the shoulder, startling him so badly he drops the journal.

It lands spine down, the pages fluttering open.

He chances a peek before Spider is rounding his lithe figure to pick up the notebook. All he makes out is a rough sketch.

“You write?” Spider asks, intrigued.

“No, it’s ________’s,” Lo’ak answers.

“Oh, your little girlfriend’s?”

Lo’ak gives the human a cross look, snatching the book from his grasp as he stands up.

“Trouble in paradise?” Spider pries, scurrying to keep up with Lo’ak’s long strides.

A beat of silence before Lo’ak finally answers.

“Made her cry,” he mumbles, embarrassed.

Spider winces behind him.

“You serious?”

Lo’ak sighs.

“Yes, dude, fuck,” he breathes, hand coming to the back of his neck. “I don’t know what came over me. Dad was ripping me a new one and Neteyam already chewed me out before they got there and she was being annoying, so I just…”

“Bro,” Spider scoffs in disbelief, scratching the back of his head. “You’re a real dickhead sometimes.”

Lo’ak’s eyes wander as he shifts uncomfortably, feeling incredibly small as his friend glares up at him.

“I mean, I told her I wanted to be left alone!” Lo’ak tries to defend weakly. “I- I didn’t mean to.”

“She likes you a lot, dude,” Spider reiterates. “She just wants you to like her back.”

Despite the glaring signs, Lo’ak has trouble believing that your feelings for him far surpass charity work. They couldn’t, it was impossible. Because at the end of the day, you’re you and he’s…him.

He opens his mouth to say something, but Spider beats him to it.

“Did you at least apologize?”

Lo’ak squirms.

“Dude!”

“Look, I know, I know,” he tries to assuage the situation.

“________ is literally the sweetest girl in the entire clan you just–“

“I get it, bro, I get it!” Lo’ak huffs.

“Get your head out of your ass,” Spider says. “She might not stick around long enough for you to realize.”

“Realize what?” Lo’ak snaps.

“Are you really gonna play stupid right now?”

He blinks at the human.

“You like ________,” Spider says matter-of-factly. “You always have, ever since we were kids.”

“Oh, piss off,” Lo’ak grumbles.

“Dude, you’re literally my best friend, but I sometimes I wanna shove my foot so far up your–”

“I do not like ________,” Lo’ak says sharply.

“Everyone sees it but you, dipshit,” Spider scoffs. “You like her, but you’re scared. She’s perfect and she intimidates you. Think she’s gonna see you for what you really are and turn her back on you like everyone else does when you fuck up, but she’s not like that, Lo’ak. She’s been there whether you like it or not. But she might not always.”

Lo’ak swallows down the knot in his throat, fingers tightening around the notebook.

“Everything clicking?” Spider asks knowingly.

Lo’ak throws him a final narrowed glare before stalking off.

It’s Lo’ak’s birthday and just like every orbit, he spends it alone in the forest.

At first, he’d been burdened with the weight of hurting your feelings, but now his conversation with Spider weighs heavy on him as he climbs dirt walkways and flowered paths.

It doesn’t help that your notebook weighs heavy in his satchel, a silent reminder that he still has a piece of you while you cling to his peace of mind.

I think you’re brave, fearless. They’re the words you uttered to him that fateful night you turned the reality of you two on its axis.

As he splices all the moments you two shared like a reel, he realizes that it’s endless. That you’re always there, you’d always been there, like a layer of impenetrable atmosphere surrounding him.

He really should apologize, he knows this much, but you’ve disappeared like a wisp of smoke. Training sessions have returned to a sibling affair and he’s too prideful to ask about you.

It’s almost eclipse when he begins making his way back for the evening meal, knowing that a scolding will await if he arrives even a minute late.

After what had happened with you, he was lying low, trying to diminish his blip from the radar.

As he closes in on the village’s main circle, he notes that it’s quiet. A little too quiet. It puts him on edge, makes him draw his bow and feel around for an arrow in his quiver.

A few more paces and he’s broken into the clearing, a few stragglers milling about. Another half a dozen steps and it’s like the forest melts into a celebration, whorls of blue pouring into the circle as villagers begin trilling.

Lo’ak is hoisted into the air as the dying fire in the center of the camp begins to slowly roar.

“Happy birthday, baby bro!” Neteyam caws loudly as they begin jostling him into the air, chanting and dancing as the dense crowd of clanspeople celebrate him.

It’s like time slows as he peers from side to side eagerly, seeing the way Spider, Kiri and Tuk dance happily among his people. Jake and Neytiri stand near the fire, smiles wide when they see the look of awe on their middle son’s face.

When he’s finally set on his feet, he wobbles, childlike as he turns, taking in the glowing streamers that crisscross between the tents. Flowers of green and blue thread through the vines, gleaming like lamplight as the forest buzzes around them.

“Wha– What is all this?” Lo’ak croaks in disbelief, eyes flitting wildly as he notices Norm and Max standing next to a table they’d hauled from the pod to the circle, piled high with meats and vegetables wrapped in leaves.

A platter of yovo fruits, his favorite, are at the center, surrounded by a painted sign with his name and the handprints of dozens of villagers on it.

“You survived another orbit!” Neteyam laughs heartily, head-locking the younger boy before roughly digging his knuckles into the top of his head.

A laugh bubbles from Lo’ak’s lips, swatting his brother away as villagers and clan members he’d grown up with approach him one by one to greet him.

As the night progresses, he doesn’t even realize he’s searching until your mother approaches and his spine goes rigid, cheeks warming under her piercing gaze.

“From my ________,” she says, setting a pouch into his palms. “She toiled over these for many eclipses. Please take care.”

Lo’ak’s nod is delayed as his satchel shifts on his shoulders, a dull reminder that your journal still remains with him, begging to be read.

“Where– Where is she?” he asks suddenly, feeling your absence all the more now that your gift sits in the palm of his hand.

“My daughter does not feel well,” your mother says simply. “She wished to be excused from the festivities.”

His chest feels hollow, stomach tight as his cheeks burn. You’d mentioned this to him, all those days ago in the training circle, about wanting to celebrate with him.

His eyes flit to the flowers looped through the vines, the mountain of yovo fruits, the gift in his hands. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous. Doesn’t want to fuel the tiniest ember of hope in chest, but he can’t help it.

He can’t help but read into it, into the implications of this celebration you’d planned all for him, into every word you uttered to him in the quiet of the forest’s chirping.

It’s all it takes for him to lock himself in his own head. The feast melts into the background, dull, as his eyes cut the crowd for you.

You have to be here, gotta be hanging around the outskirts silently. The idea taunts him, makes his gut twist hard as images of you dancing in the circle, singing to him, celebrating him, loving him—

Lo’ak freezes, blinking incredulously at the thought that’d just crossed his brain. It makes him queasy, makes the regret and the guilt gnaw at every nerve ending as your crying face flashes like an unwanted slideshow in his brain.

It’s all he can think about as the festivities die, as villagers begin turning in the for the night and he helps his family clean up the aftermath of another orbit finally finished.

Spider helps Tuk and Neteyam near the fire, and as Lo’ak moves through the motions like he’s caught in a tide, Kiri watches, knowing all too well what consumes her brother’s mind.

It isn’t until Lo’ak is shrouded by the stillness of the early morning, his family tucked in their tent, bodies and limbs splayed as they sleep together, that he sits in a swinging hammock, your journal and the pouch in his lap.

It feels wrong, the way he thumbs the cover, working up the courage to turn it open. But Ewya, fate, would have never left it in his wake if it wasn’t meant to be read.

As his finger ghosts the etchings of the front cover, worn and loved by you, something tickles his leg as he admires the leather. He blinks in disbelief when he sees a singular woodsprite resting against his thigh.

Before he loses his nerve, he’s opening the pages with bated breath.

Recipes, nature notes, short thoughts fill the sheets and Lo’ak feels like he’s reading into your brain, seeing all the little things no one bothers to know.

he is like the sun,

shines so bright,

but burns the closer you get.

Lo’ak’s pointer finger glosses over the ink, over your curly handwriting.

he is so incredible, but he doesn’t even know it. i want to shout it to every creature in the forest, every tree and every flower. oh, how i wish to be as fearless as him.

His chest heaves as the words blur.

Fearless.

In this moment, he feels everything but. He feels like a coward.

He continues to flip, throat lodged as he sees drawings, both rough sketches and full renderings. He hadn’t even known that you liked to draw, yet here he was, observing his home through your artistic eye.

Flowers, leaves, trees, creatures, insects, fruits mar the stained papers, etched like it’d been caught in real time.

likes green and blue.

likes yovo fruits.

The entry from the day you’d first walked with him through the forest.

When he turns the page, his breath hitches.

In full color, you’d captured his bullseye from your first training session. His back taut from the release, expression shaded stoic. He looked mighty, like the strongest warrior, and it was all through your eyes.

Lo’ak doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the bullseye in the illustration bleeds from a fallen tear. Another one drips from his chin, then another.

The next page is the night you two had poured your hearts out to each other. Again, in full color, he’s watching the stars. You don’t leave out the glow of the freckles that smatter his face and body, don’t miss the smile that plays at his lips as he quietly points out that his dad had come from a star.

He flips again and different iterations and designs for what seems like jewelry litters the pages, shaded with different colors of blue and green, marked with varying notes, x’s marking through ideas you didn’t like.

Lo’ak remembers the pouch, sitting untouched in his lap, and his shaky fingers undo the ties. He shakes the contents on the flat of the notebook and the most intricate beadwork fits into the crease.

His eyes widen as he picks up the necklace in a trembling hand, the eclipsing sun catching the etching in the flat stones.

Four five-fingered hands and four four-fingered ones, each separated by jewels scavenged and cleaned from the bed of the glowing river.

A small scroll flutters from the pouch and Lo’ak chokes back as sob as he unrolls the hide.

Happy Birthday, Lo’ak. I am always grateful to know someone like you. May your next orbit be filled with endless blessings from Ewya and may you see yourself how I see you.

You see him, he realizes. You’re his supporter, a silent force that consumes every insecurity and swallows every doubt. You believe in him more than he believes in himself.

He stands from the hammock and runs.

You’re sitting in the same tree the two of you had rested in the night you’d confided in Lo’ak, watching as the sun eclipses and begins to light up the sparkling forest.

Something rustles and you sit up, hand on the hilt of your dagger as you search the area for movement.

As your eyes lock on the source, you almost wish it had been a beast coming to devour you whole. But as Lo’ak climbs the branches of the tree quickly, you feel the dread begin to solidify in your veins.

You take your satchel, hanging from a nearby branch and sling it over your shoulder, pulling your shawl over your head to prepare for your escape.

“________, wait,” he chokes breathlessly. “Please.”

You feel like crying all over again, feel so unbelievably stupid thinking that Lo’ak would ever see you the way that you see him.

You pause a beat as he settles on the branch across from yours, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

Something glints in the sun and your eyes widen when you see that Lo’ak has fastened the necklace you made him around his neck, right above the the leather chain that holds his beloved claw charm.

“You’re wearing it,” you whisper, lips twitching into a frown as you try your best to keep your tears at bay.

“I’m sorry, ________,” Lo’ak apologizes hoarsely. “Fuck, you don’t understand how sorry I am.”

The tears well on their own.

We’re not friends. We never were and we never will.

The words haunt you like a broken record and you shake your head, moving from your perch to move down the branches.

“Wait, wait,” Lo’ak pleads. “Please don’t go, I–”

“I hate you,” you whisper. “I hate you, Lo’ak.”

He freezes, watching as you balance on a branch below.

“I tried so hard to be your friend,” you whimper, angrily wiping away your tears. “You’re amazing. You’re strong, and you’re fearless, and you are everything I want to be, but you’re heartless.”

Lo’ak lets out a shuddering breath, a chill running down his spine as you look up at him like he’d smashed every star in the sky.

“I wanted to be with you, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “I hoped that maybe if I stuck it out, you’d see how much I cared, how badly I wanted to be with you, even if it was from a distance.”

“I do, _________, I do!” he argues.

He hadn’t always, but he sees it now. He sees you.

You shake your head again.

“You don’t,” you sigh, voice trembling. “It’s my fault anyways. You were right. You told me to leave you alone and I was being too much.”

“Stop–”

“Let this be the last time,” you assure him. “Let’s just– Let’s pretend we never met.”

“No, _________. Wait!”

You’re climbing down the tree and disappearing into the brush and, like a fleck of ash, you’re disintegrating into nothingness.

Most people think he’s being moody, that he’s just been scolded by his father or older brother, but Neytiri knows better.

She sees the way her son has changed over the course of the past few weeks. She knows there is a great burden that he carries, but much like her beloved and her eldest, he suffers in silence.

“Maitan,” she says quietly, brushing a braid from his face as he folds the leaves around a chunk of steaming meat.

Lo’ak pauses almost imperceptibly, but continues his task.

It isn’t like him to stay home and work with Neytiri. If anything, he’d be the first one out of the tent, Tuk, Spider, and Kiri tailing after him as they galavant through the endless forest.

“Something weighs heavy in your heart,” she tries again, hand coming over his.

Lo’ak stops and leans back, unable to meet his mother’s searching gaze.

“I hurt someone,” he says quietly.

Neytiri stiffens.

“What?”

“I hurt someone I care about,” Lo’ak admits. You’d called him fearless, strong. He needed to live by your word. “I hurt her and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Oh, Lo’ak,” she murmurs, squeezing his hand gently.

Her face has softened as she takes in his stony expression.

“My son, some things cannot be fixed,” she says honestly. “But all things require great effort. Sometimes those efforts will fall through, but that is the natural order of life.”

Lo’ak swallows.

“Whoever this special person is, if you have hurt her, she deserves the full effort of your heart, no?”

You do, he knows you do. You deserve every last effort. But a niggling streak of insecurity tells him that you don’t deserve someone like him. You don’t deserve someone who takes your affections for granted. You deserve someone who will love you with every breath, who will love you fearlessly.

“I really messed things up, Mom,” Lo’ak says quietly. “I don’t…”

Neytiri’s hand comes to Lo’ak chest.

“The night I first met your father, Ewya gave me sign,” she says. “He has a pure, strong heart. You do too.”

Lo’ak swallows.

“Be brave, Maitan,” she says. “Sometimes that is enough.”

Lo’ak’s fingers hurt from picking berries.

His cuticles bleed, pricked by the thorns of the fruit’s bush. Kiri hums beside him, weaving a little bag out of ropes of thin vines.

“You’re not gonna help me?” he whines.

“Why should I help you with your mess?”

You look beautiful under the glow of the evening meal’s crackling fire. It’s the first time you’ve emerged since before Lo’ak’s birthday feast and you’re being flocked by elders and villagers, wishing you well and asking about your supposed ailment.

He sits across the fire, fists tight as he searches for a lull in the crowd.

Spider snickers next to him, devouring the contents of his plate like he’s starved, watching Lo’ak’s useless pining like a show.

Be brave.

He’s standing to his feet before he can back out, crossing the circle to approach you. The villagers watch like they know something he doesn’t and the nerves are eating away at him as he steps into your space.

You look up from your conversation with a girl your age, the smile slipping from your lips.

“Can we talk?” Lo’ak asks, eyes wandering to watch the way everyone watches him.

You remain jaded.

“Now’s not a good time,” you say quietly and a few onlookers snicker in the background. “________,” Lo’ak tries again.

You stare up at him, the shadow of the fire dancing over your features as you seemingly look right through him. It’s humiliating, the way you remain seated and watch him fidget, but he figures he deserves the cold shoulder after months, years of casting you to the side.

“Let’s go?” you ask the girl, nodding your head over your shoulder.

The girl chances a glance between you and Lo’ak, noticing the telltale sign of your work etched into the stones of the choker he hadn’t taken off since his birthday.

She gives him a sympathetic smile as she follows after you.

He’s going to have to try a lot harder than he has, he realizes as your birthday looms right around the corner. The next eclipse, in fact.

He’s losing hope, losing courage, but he can’t give up on you two just yet.

He makes sure the berries he picked the days prior are packed tightly in his bag, the lid to the nectar fastened, and his present wrapped nicely.

It’s his last hope, his last shot to make things right.

Spider, Tuk, and Neytiri surround him, Neteyam and Jake off on a hunt.

They’d all been privy to the fact, aiding him in his endeavors as he organized his final grapple with your heart.

“Kiri said she’ll bring her right before eclipse,” Spider says, peeking from the flap of the tent. “That’s in, like, minutes.”

Lo’ak is nervous. Doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses you for good, but he knows he has to give it his best effort. It’s the least you deserve.

Be brave. Sometimes that is enough.

Lo’ak glances at his mom and she gives him a warm smile, ruffling his braids.

“You are the son of Toruk Makto,” she assures him, pinching his cheek. “There is nothing you cannot do.”

The words are carved into his brain as he rushes through the forest, the the stream that the curls and bends through the forest. It glows beautifully at night and that is his final push.

“Wait, give me like three seconds, I left something.” Kiri’s voice is muffled behind the trees.

“Huh?” Lo’ak sees the way your head tilts through an opening in the foliage.

“I’ll only be a second!”

“Wait, Kiri!”

Kiri is running straight for him, comes barreling through the bushes, and continues down the path.

“Good luck, egghead!”

Lo’ak takes in a final breath to quell the tremor in his hands before ducking through the bushes to reveal himself.

You’re sitting on the embankment, on a woven mat that Kiri had laid out for you two, decorative vines edging the seams.

“Oh, you were–”

You peer over your shoulder and your expression falls.

“Lo’ak…”

“Happy birthday, ________,” he breathes.

You don’t look amused, slinging your bag over you shoulder as you rise to your feet.

“Kiri and I are hanging out,” you tell him.

He scratches the back of his head.

“I…I had Kiri bring you here because I knew that you wouldn’t come with me if I asked,” he admits. “And of course, I don’t blame you, but I– I just really need to talk to you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, unable to look him in his eyes as he draws nearer.

“Just give me some time, please,” he pleads.

You finally meet his gaze, searching his eyes as he looks down at you earnestly.

You give him the tiniest nod, reluctantly shedding your satchel to reassume your seat on the mat.

The waters rush gently, like a song as Lo’ak lowers himself next to you.

His palms are clammy as he fidgets in his seat, the scent of herbs and flowers wafting from your dewy skin. He can’t bring himself to look at you, afraid that every sentiment he’d crafted in the hours of the night will escape him, so he watches the bubbling of the stream.

“Well?” you whisper, like you don’t want to shatter the fragile sheath of peace that layers you.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know I’ve said it already, but I really am, ________.”

“I know,” you murmur and his gaze flits to yours. “Even if you don’t act like it, you have a good heart, Lo’ak. You feel everything, even the things you don’t want to.”

He swallows.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says carefully. “I was mad and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

You sit silently, knees hugged to your chest. Your cheek rests against your knee, watching Lo’ak with seeing eyes. It makes him trip over his words.

“My whole life, I’ve always been compared to Neteyam,” he says. “The entire village would whisper about me and how I was nothing like the mighty warrior.”

When he glances at you, he notices your fingers twitch, like you want to reach out to him.

He squashes his fears and turns to face you, five-fingered hand coming up to thread with your four. You watch the union, uncertainty obvious in the way you tense, but Lo’ak squeezes.

“And then when we started growing up, you were just another person I had to live up to,” Lo’ak whispers. “You’re perfect, ________. You’re kind, and you’re smart, talented. You’re everything I’m not and it made me hate you.”

You shrink, but Lo’ak pulls you towards him, hand coming up to brush your cheek.

“But you’re all of that and more,” he continues, the words gushing like a river. “You’re always there, you support me and you defend me and see things I don’t.”

You become shy under his gaze because for the first time, he’s seeing you. He’s seeing you for every single thing you’ve been to him and it makes your stomach knot.

“I have something to tell you,” he says. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Your gaze is soft, palm still in his as he turns and reaches into the bag he discarded next to him. Your eyes widen when he produces your notebook, edges curled the slightest as he hands it to you.

“My journal,” you say, taking it from him quickly. “I’ve been looking for this. Why- Why do you have it?”

He looks guilty, lips rolling as he avoids your gaze.

“Did you…”

“I wasn’t going to,” he admits. “But there were woodsprites and I knew it was a s–”

“Lo’ak this is private,” you murmur incredulously. “Why would you read this?”

“How long, ________?” he asks quietly, grip on your hand tightening.

“Lo’ak, don’t–”

“How long?” he presses desperately.

Your eyes are watering, like that wicked night all over again and Lo’ak begs Eywa for the final push.

“Since we were ten,” you whisper brokenly. “It was my first performance and it was so stupid, but I was throwing up because I was nervous and you talked me through it.”

Lo’ak is stunned, the memory like the faintest of outlines.

“We didn’t even know each other that well,” you hiccup. “But you patted me on the back and you gave me this–”

You pull your fingers from his grasp and flip the journal to the last page, revealing a hidden pocket. Your nimble fingers pull a tattered string, the remnants of a vine, threaded with wilted flower petals, preserved from being pressed inside your notebook.

“You said that they made you make it during lessons,” you say, breath hitching. “That it’d be my good luck.”

He’d forgotten all about the memory completely, too caught up in driving whatever wedge he could between you two, building up walls to seal you out.

“And you kept it this whole time?” he asks, face scrunched in disbelief.

“I’d hold on to anything you give me,” you admit in defeat. “Heartbreak included.”

He lets out a shaky breath.

“________, I’m so sorry,” he repeats, hand coming up to your neck. “You have to know that. I’m really fucking stupid, but if you give us a shot, I won’t mess it up.”

Your hand comes up to his wrist, crumpling as you bow your head.

“Don’t do this to me,” you beg, moving to break away from him.

“Please.”

His hold tightens, other hand twining with yours.

“If I…if I give myself to you, I’m giving you everything,” you say hesitantly. “If you break this, you break me. I don’t think I can come back from this.”

Lo’ak presses his forehead to yours, breath warm against your lips as he searches your gaze for any semblance of hope.

“This is me being fearless, ________,” he whispers.

You melt, pressing your lips to his tentatively. He’s frozen for the shortest of moments before relenting, pushing up onto his knees to deepen the kiss.

He’s cradling your face and your hands are wandering and Lo’ak can’t help but think he could get used to loving you.

To being loved by you.

BONUS

“I was gonna give it to you on your birthday,” Lo’ak says sheepishly a few nights later under the stars. “But, you know…”

Your usual place among the branches of the looming trees have a lot of memories both bitter and sweet, but you suppose you could make new ones.

“You don’t have to give me anything,” you say sweetly, tail swishing to wrap around his ankle. “You’re all I need.”

Lo’ak doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to your saccharine words if the pounding in his chest is anything to go by.

His hands are shaky as he pushes the hide towards you, a bow made of vine tied neatly around the gift.

“Wanted to,” he says simply, moving the hair from you face to see your reaction better. “Open it.”

You’re gentle with the present, like you are with most things, but eager to see what he’d gotten you.

A tiny gasp falls from your lips when you finally see it, wide eyes meeting his as you free the jars of paints he’d mashed up, the brushes he fashioned, and the brand new journal he bound himself.

“Lo’ak, wow…”

“So you can paint me more,” he says, then adds timidly. “Or maybe us. Maybe you could paint us.”

an — holy shit guys, this was such a big project for me because i really wanted to dive into so many different things in this fic. to everyone who was waiting patiently, thank you sososo much. as usual, i took a lot of creative liberties with this one, but i hope you guys enjoyed nonetheless! although requests are paused for me to catch up, like always, if you wanna chat with me about literally anything, my askbox is open. lots of love hehehe :) xx

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn

#lo'ak x reader #lo'ak sully #avatar the way of water #avatar way of water #avatar #atwow #avatar the movie #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak avatar #lo'ak angst #lo'ak fanfiction

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fleur-a-whump · 4 months ago

Text

Overloaded (#2)

late night sparks

guys guess what!! little villain guy has a name!! it’s Jasper and we love him dearly. also team leader’s got a name too, it’s Miguel, but we don’t really care about him because he’s a bitch. plus new character reveal: Chase, a teammate. he is also, unsurprisingly, a bitch.

Content: ex-villain whumpee, hero/leader whumper, manipulative whumper, collars, electrocution (for realsies this time), implied referenced abuse of a minor, referenced bullying, bad team dynamics, adult language

in which Miguel gets worse. takes place probably a few months after "preventative measures"

previous | masterlist | next

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Jasper's back was sore. And his arms. And his everything.

He sat kneeling on the kitchen floor, determinately ignoring the pins and needles that pricked at his calves. He couldn't stop, couldn't take a break till the floor was spotless. Chase had once again threatened some mixture of violence and telling on him to Miguel for insubordination if he didn't do the man's chores.

Big man-child, Jasper thought bitterly.

So, here he was, scrubbing well past midnight, after having spent the day straining his powers in the lab and doing his own chores.

Jasper sat back to indulge a long, dramatic yawn. He nearly jumps out of his skin when an impatient ahem cuts through the previously dead silent kitchen. His bleary eyes take several long moments to focus on Miguel, leaning against the doorway. The hero would look casual if it weren’t for the peeved look on his face. Jasper’s stomach does a somersault.

Sheepish, Jasper drawls, “Heyyy, Miguel…”

Miguel is not amused. “What the fuck are you doing out here,” he snaps.

Jasper squeezes his hands into fists to quell the tremors. He stutters, “J-just cleaning.”

The villain can hardly finish the statement before the unsettling and painful electricity of the collar arcs through him. His muscles seize and ache and burn and it feels like death and he can't breathe—

Just as quickly as it began, the electricity stops. He gasps and collapses to the side, just barely able to catch himself on his forearm. Small, choked-off whimpers escape him as he tries to catch his breath and keep his volume to a minimum. His father never liked to hear him whine.

Jasper continues to shudder as his powers go haywire. The typically comforting restless skittering of his own electricity under his skin now burns as it travels across the newly fried neurons. More than that, it feels wrong for such a core part of his being to cause him pain. The feeling is everywhere, from the tip of his nose to his toes, and it is everything. Little sparks and crackles of energy fly from his shaking hands as it becomes too painful to completely contain his powers. Simply existing—not to mention actually using his powers—will be painful while his body tries to recover from the unnaturally strong current, engineered just for him.

As his body gradually backs down from its state of panic, ire at the punishment surges within him. The hero didn’t even let him explain. It was Chase who ordered him to do his chores; ordered him to not leave this room until it was spotless.

“I was just following orders!” he bursts.

Oh shit.

A quick glance at Miguel and his quirked eyebrow lets him know just how badly he just fucked up. And even if it didn't, the second burst of electricity from the collar definitely spells it out for him.

A guttural groan escapes his clenched teeth as he feels the current worm its way through his neurons, igniting them. The burning, all-encompassing pain is all he knows. Spots cloud his vision. Seconds feel like minutes, feel like hours, feel like eternity, until he wonders if that's all he'll ever feel. Nothing but the gut-wrenching pain of his greatest gift, so deeply intertwined with his being, turned against him and ripping him apart from the inside out.

And then, it stops.

Jasper’s body fully gives out this time, his chin bouncing off the tile and teeth clacking painfully. He's a pitiful mess of useless limbs. His muscles feel like jelly and yet are still forced to endure the waves of aftershock, twitching and spasming irregularly. Each movement is agony.

He gulps oxygen, having still been out of breath from the first shock. He can hardly hear his own moans and whimpers bouncing around the kitchen with each breath over the ringing in his ears, and he has zero energy to control them this time.

A hand lands on his shoulder, and he can't help the delayed but violent flinch that ripples through him. But the hand is soft, gentle, as it pulls him to lie on his back. It guides his hand to rest on someone's chest, to follow as it rises and falls rhythmically. He latches onto it, using it as a guide to breathe and bring himself back to reality. Another hand gently cards through his loose curls as he works to steady his breathing and his vision clears. If he eagerly leans into the gentle touch, well, he can blame it on his delirious state.

When Miguel's face finally comes into focus above him, a shiver runs through him, and he averts his gaze. He'll blame that on his still-spasming muscles.

Miguel’s soft voice calls for his attention again. He focuses back on his leader’s face, haloed above him by the bright kitchen lights.

“There you are. You're alright, it's okay,” he soothes.

The hero lets Jasper relish the contact a moment longer before gently returning his hand to his own chest.

Jasper swallows the whimper at the loss.

Miguel lets out a long-suffering sigh. It gives Jasper whiplash how suddenly the familiar weight of anxiety settles back in his chest.

“I don't like doing that, man. You know better than to be in the common areas after your curfew, and you definitely know better than to talk back, bud. I don't wanna have to punish you, but the rules are rules for a reason. Yeah, they're to protect the team, but they're also to protect you. What if you'd had another episode with your powers?��

He decidedly doesn’t think about the ‘episodes’ Miguel is referring to. Still, the disappointment in his savior's voice hurt almost as much as the electricity. His eyes flood with tears as guilt settles like a rock in his stomach. The hero was right. He knew the rules, and he agreed to them. Anything to stay. Anything to be good.

His voice breaks, small and shaky, as he says, “I-I'm really s-sorry, Mig-guel.”

The villain’s not one hundred percent sure what exactly he's sorry for, but, fuck, is he sorry.

“Okay, that's alright, don't cry. I think you've learned your lesson. You're fine.”

The words should be comforting. The edge to his tone, however, is not. Jasper blinks hard to clear the tears, not wanting to annoy him. That was another thing his father didn't like.

Miguel brings him back to the present, asking, “Why are you cleaning the floor anyways? That's not on your list for this week.”

Jasper swallows hard past the lump still in his throat. He’s afraid of what Chase will do to him if he tells Miguel and Miguel decides he doesn’t like that. However, he’s more “Chase s-said I should be busy all the t-time to k-keep me out of trouble…”

Miguel hums in thought, ever casual as Jasper trembles on the floor below of him.

“I actually like that idea. We wouldn't want you getting bored. You'd be helping the team out a lot too, taking some work off our plates so we can train more. I'll work on the new chore schedule in the morning.”

Jasper bit his lip. He could read between the lines.

“A-and, my training?”

“We can reduce it some,” Miguel says, thoughtful. “I know you've been struggling to keep up.”

He makes it sound like a kindness, voice full of sympathy. No matter how gentle the tone, Jasper has to blink the tears from his eyes again. He knew he wasn't the strongest or the most capable, but that was the point of training. He'd never be good enough to redeem himself without the chance to train.

Miguel sighs again and stands. He suddenly reaches towards him. Jasper has to carefully control the urge to flinch, not knowing what to expect from the movement. He never knows what to expect.

Miguel simply holds it out towards him, however, expectantly. It takes Jasper a moment to realize he's trying to help him up. He takes the hand after that moment's hesitation and wavers on unsteady feet as the blood finally rushes back into his legs. He blinks spots from his vision, gripping Miguel for dear life until he's sure he's not going to pass out.

The hero gives him an easy smile, clapping a hand on his shoulder just a bit too hard. He nudges him in the direction of the bedrooms.

“You look tired, man. I think it's time for bed,” he all but coos.

It sounds like a caring gesture, or at the very least a joke. Jasper knows it's an order.

He dutifully mumbles, “Goodnight,” before making his way to the door slowly. He knows he probably looks like a newborn fawn as his jittery body tries to carry him to his bed.

“And Jasper?”

A slight jolt of anxiety stops him as he turns back to his leader.

“If I catch you out past curfew again, we're going to have an issue worth more than a little jolt, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the villain says, too tired to bite back the honorific once totally engrained in him.

He doesn't notice the way Miguel preens at the submission.

“Attaboy, Jasper. Goodnight.”

The praise rings hollow after the night's events, but as he makes his way back to his room, dead on his feet, he allows the praise to warm him.

He'll take what he can get.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

jasper doesn't deserve this :( but he will get more >:)

tags!! lmk if you wanna be added (or removed, I added some extra people)!!

@whumpsday

@sergeant-jasper (yo i didn't even realize lol)

@watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@crystalrose141

@aloafofbreadwithanxiety

@paingoes

@elizaisnotokay

@quaggasus

#ex villain whumpee #villain whumpee #hero whumper #manipulative whumper #emotional manipulation #heroes and villains #shock collar #electrocution #team whump #bad team dynamics #whump #whump fic #whump writing #whump community #whumpblr #god so many tags #guys im stressed this is scary #overloaded

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whaledenwtf · 1 year ago

Text

Halsin x Dryad!Reader - The Summer Solstice

IM BACK BITCHES!!! Instead of doing my presentation for university I'm typing this. You're welcome.

Cross-posted on AO3 here: Link All other links will be at the end of the fic!! ENJOY

Warnings: afab!reader and Male Smut, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Oral (Female and Male Receiving), BEACH SEX YEAH, Size Difference, Oh Yeah Did I Mention MATING PRESS

Once again, my efforts to keep him as true to character have been made. :)

WORD COUNT: 3630

Link to some Summer Solstice Rituals I reference here: LINK

You couldn't help but be impressed. It was the summer solstice, and the Arch Druid of the Emerald Grove handling the rituals of the day was excelling. Excelling enough to gain the attentions of Silvanus himself. You were watching his back from behind an oak tree, admiring the musculature. He was tall, strong. You liked that. Your mind flitted between the mortal and what had happened earlier in the day. The Oak Father presented himself to you in your mind earlier today, expressing his excitement of one of his followers.

"His name is Halsin. He has excelled in many of the rituals and in assisting nature. He has even reached Arch Druid status." He had said offhandedly. You were always a curious Dryad, and knew you had to investigate. You knew Silvanus was meddling but you haven't been around mortals in decades. You wanted to join the festivities after all; the summer solstice was your favourite holiday! The flowers are already in full bloom, the summer air is sweet with the smell of hydrangeas and peonies. You knew many of your companions were celebrating on their own, with nature and chosen company. You decide to get a little closer to the celebrations, walking out from behind the oak tree you were hiding behind. Many of the druids turned to look at you and gasped. Many of them dropped their lutes and violins, the sounds of nature becoming louder in the sudden silence. Many of them came to you, with offerings of honeyed mead and flower crowns. You crouch down to a small elf child holding a marigold and lavender crown.

"Little one, may I wear your crown?" They look at their parents for guidance before nodding and placing the crown above your head. It blooms further once it is placed upon you, and the smell of lavender wafts around the air. You pluck one of the lavender buds from your crown and put it behind the child's ear, smiling.

"Now we match." The child giggles in wonder, before running to hide behind her mother's leg, watching you in glee. You rise to stand, only to notice the Arch Druid had turned around to watch you. You are stunned by his beauty. His face is angular, with a tattoo on the right side and a gruesome bear scar on the left. He was perfect, in your eyes. You smile at the crowd you attracted, before walking past them to reach Halsin. When you get close, you smell him and are enamored further. Pine, musk and cedar. You can understand why Silvanus had sung his praises; he was the embodiment of nature.

"We haven't had a dryad join in our festivities yet. May Silvanus preserve you." You bow dramatically, the vines and leaves that make up your clothing sway beautifully behind you.

"An honour it is to meet you, Arch Druid Halsin. Your reputation precedes you." He chuckles, his voice deep and booming.

"I hope you heard all good things I hope." He smirks down at you, hazel eyes glistening in the twilight. The last beams of sunlight shine on the both of you. You glow with a radiance, like water reflecting sunlight, and he is attracted to you. Your beauty, your essence, is all captivating.

"Silvanus has only sung your praises, Halsin. I had hoped to see you in person and was graced by your ceremony. Wonderfully done." He blushes, the tips of his ears burning crimson. He seems at shock from your words; Silvanus has praised him? He feels truly blessed. You turn to look at the onlookers, who were still gazing at your beauty.

"Please, continue your celebrations. The Oak Father wishes you all enjoy yourselves in the time of festivities. Enjoy nature as he intended." You words were clear, and not a moment later, did everyone begin celebrating again. You turn back to Halsin, who is watching you in wonder. You blush lightly under his gaze, before sidestepping to look at the altar of light.

"Beautiful spread. I see you added citrine and pyrite; as well as some local blooms." That seems to snap him out of his spell and he nods.

"The celebration of the solstice is one I take very seriously." You turn to look at him over your shoulder.

"May I?" He waves over the altar, allowing you to do your magic. Your eyes begin to glow green, and sunflowers begin to bloom in your hand. You lay them aesthetically on the altar, smiling.

"Thank you." He tells you earnestly. You giggle at his enthusiasm, smiling as you turn back to him.

"Of course-" You look at the horizon, noticing the the sun had set. "Well, I believe it is time for the bonfire and feast! Oh, I haven't been to solstice festivities in years." You tell him excitedly.

"Join us." He tells you. You smile widely at him, and his heart flutters in his chest.

"I'd love to. I'll dance- oh and sing! I'm so excited!" You are buzzing in place. He finds it adorable. His hand goes to the small of your back ushering you forward.

"Go on! Enjoy yourself." His hand feels warm on your skin, and you blush.

"What about you?" He waves you off.

"I tend to look over the festivities. Have to make sure we do not lose any cubs." You bite your lip, thinking. You had an idea.

"What if I ask you to celebrate with me? Would you join then?" His gaze glances down at your lips before meeting your eyes.

"I can make an exception, for such a beautiful guest." You blush once again. He smirks as your skin darkens, and he can't help but wonder if that blush shows up on other parts of your body, hidden to his eyes.

"Then I will make sure to save a dance for you." You go on your tippy-toes, planting a soft kiss on his cheek, before running forward into the fray. His hand holds his face where you had kissed him, and he smiles. He can't wait.

You had spent the last hour dancing with the children of the Grove. You were showing them the dryad's dance, a sensual dance with a lot of swirling; your arms swaying. Like a willow tree you wave and sway, the wind following your movements. Your eyes catch Halsin watching at you, a heat in his gaze. At the end of the dance, you end with a flourish, arms spread up towards the moon. Flowers and flower petals fall over the children, who squeal and giggle excitedly. They come to hug you and you pet many of them, sprouting daisies and marigolds to give to each child. Once they receive their gifts, they run around the grove, chasing each other and playing. The music changes to a very familiar tune. The musicians begin playing "Down by the River", and you begin to sing. Your voice, ethereal and otherworldly echoes in nature. You begin to dance, voice still echoing. Like a siren, Halsin felt the pull of your voice, and began to edge closer to you subconsciously. Once he gets close enough, you grab his wrist, tugging him into a dance. You begin to circle one another, one of your hands palm to palm with one another. You continue to sing, your gazes locked. He is entranced by you.

"Down, down, down by the river." You end the song, twirling around Halsin. You both bow at one another, as everyone applauds you both.

"Thank you for the dance." He tells you huskily. You squirm under his gaze.

"I was hoping for more than one dance." You tell him quietly. He feels particularly emboldened by your response, and puts his hand around your waist.

"What were you thinking of?" He asks you quietly. Your hands lay on his chest.

"Perhaps we can celebrate the solstice together... privately." He hums, his arms pulling you closer to him. You feel his strength through your close bodies, and admire him further, hands caressing his chest, mapping his body.

"What of my duties?" He asks you. He doesn't seem to want to decline. You look around, noticing everyone having fun and participating in ritualistic dances.

"Meet me near the shoreline after the last song has ended and nature's music is loud again. I will wait for you." Your lips graze his gently. You taste like freshwater and thyme. His lips become numb, and his mind is emptied of all rational thought. His eyes glow amber as he watches you walk to the shore, hips swaying. A low growl leaves his chest, and he almost transforms into a bear. He can't help but curse his need to diligently do his duties. This night will feel eternal.

When the last notes of music have died down, and all that is left of the large bonfire is embers, he seeks your company. The night is dark, lit by glowing mushrooms and occasional group of fireflies. His path is dark, but he has never felt such peace. He walks the path to the shoreline, where your voice carries as you sing; the sound of crashing waves accompanying your music. His heart beats loudly in his ears, the tips of them twitching in his excitement. In all his years of existence, he has never lain with a dryad. It seems surprising, for many of his years he had taken an extensive amount of lovers, all of which were of many different races and ages. His bare feet finally hit the sand, and he sinks slightly in his continued path to you. He sees your ears twitch before you turn around, smiling.

"I was beginning to get concerned." You tell him softly. Your voice was gentle, and the emotions that burst forward from his heart urged him to speed in his walk to you, almost sprinting.

"You needn't be concerned of me." You rise to greet him, hands stretch out. He gets close enough to grasp them, and pulls you forward. You land on his chest, and are forced to look up at him. The stars are reflecting beautifully in your eyes. They are focused on his own gaze, and he has never felt more grateful for all of the actions, faults and obstacles in his life that had brought him here; with you.

"Can I not be concerned for someone I care about?" He blushes at the remark, and you notice the druid's skin darken. His hands let go of your own to grasp the sides of your face.

"You care?" You bite your lip, watching his amorous gaze.

"When Silvanus spoke of you, I must admit it was not the first time I've heard of the admirable and fearless Arch Druid Halsin. Your bravery and attunement to nature always attracted me to the idea of you. Now that I stand before you, my heart beats in tune with yours; the idea of any other being is far away in my mind. You take the forefront of many of my thoughts, and have been for the entirety of the day." His hands pull your face forward, his lips smashing against yours. This kiss was unlike the other; passion, excitement and need were felt in this kiss. You moan against him, and his tongue takes advantage of your lowered defenses. Your tongues move against each other languidly, caressing one another. You pull away from him, only to push him down so he is laying in the sand. You sit atop his lap, and begin kissing him again.

He decided that if lightning had struck him in this moment, he'd die the happiest man alive. Such words and attentions he had never heard, especially from the lips of someone he's come to admire so much. The world around them dissipated, and all that was left was them and time indefinite- your words and touches, your two souls joining in nature's basest form of love. His hands caress the sides of your body, his touch igniting heat wherever they touch, a heat blossoming in the very core of your being.

When air becomes a necessity for you both, you separate. You begin to pull his ceremonial tunic upwards, before laying it gently next to you both, taking care in the important garb. His pants are next, and his undergarments fall with them. You kneel between his legs and admire him. It seems Silvanus had taken great care in his looks, and his personality. If you hadn't known better, you'd believe him a god; crafted from your mind's eye. In a moment, he lifts himself up to remove your dryadic clothing, mostly leaves and vines, so he could gaze upon you. Once both naked, your touches become lighter, hovering over him ever so slightly. His skin breaks out in goosebumps, the hairs rising slightly.

"Your beauty is one I never thought I could ever gaze upon." You tell him sweetly. His eyes leave your face for a moment to gaze at the rest of you.

"Sitting here, with you, shows me that some of nature's greatest beauties are ones I hadn't had the chance to gaze upon yet. No words can even begin to describe how I see you in this moment; your beauty cannot be fully grasped with something as limiting as words." You crawl further up into the crevice of his thighs, your belly rubbing against his hardened member. Your noses are touching now, and you are exchanging each other's air.

"I need you." You whimper, and one of his hands grasp the back of your neck, under the thickness of your hair to pull you into a savouring kiss. His other hand goes to tread the path of your body; from grasping and playing with the pebbled peaks of your breasts, to caressing your bountiful curves to the apex of your thighs. You moan into his mouth as his thick fingers tickle the outline of your cunt, feeling the wetness that has gathered there. He moans when he realizes truly how wet you had become. His fingers then dip in between the seam of your cunt, to gather some of your nectar before separating from your lips to taste you.

His eyes flash golden at the taste of you on his tongue. Your wanton moan turns into a shriek as he pulls you up until your cunt is levelled with his mouth.

"I'm going to savour you now. Devour you, until you cannot stand, and your voice is strained. May I taste you, sweet one?" You respond to him by laying your full weight on his face. He wastes no time in savouring your scent, and... devouring you. His tongue explores your depths, as his nose bumps into your clit. You grind on him, juices flowing down his chin. He grabs your plush thighs, grinding you harder into him. He pulls away for a moment to release his grab on one of your thighs before plunging two of his thick fingers into you and sucking on your pearl. You will not last with his attentions. He is feasting on you, your moans and pants urging him further.

"That's right, my little lavender. Finish on my tongue and fingers. Cum for me." The authoritative tone his voice took shook you to your core, and you finish on his fingers and talented tongue. With a moan, your juices leak out of you. He begins to lick your mess, moaning at the taste of your essence. His grip on your thighs have waned enough for you to scramble away, legs shaking. You land with a thump on the ground between his thighs, grasping his cock in your hand. You stroke him once, then twice, before rubbing the pad of your thumb on his head and spreading his precum around. You pull away to taste him, and moan. He growls at your debauchery.

"I'm going to taste you, Halsin. Need to taste you." You huff out as if out of breathe, before taking him in your hand again. Your lips descend on him, tasting him. Your tongue was heavenly on him, and he grasped your hair in his hands, bucking into you. You moan around him, taking him to the back of your throat. He grunts at your attentions, grasp tightening. You pull away for a moment, taking deep breathes before looking him in the eye and taking him further into your mouth. You reach the patch of hair at his base, the tip of his cock hitting the furthest parts of your throat.

"O-oh. Fuck-" Hearing him lose his sense of self, and the fact he uttered an expletive made you feverish, and you began to deepthroat him, ushering him to thrust into your mouth. He takes advantage of your wants, thrusting into you. Your hands move upwards, fondling his heavy sack. Without warning he thrusts deep, finishing in your throat. You swallow as much as you could, the taste of him tart but delicious; you want more. You continue to suck and bob up and down his member, until he cums again, shaking and groaning loudly. You pull off of him, gathering the cum and spittle that leaked from your mouth and putting it back in your mouth, savouring him. He watches you with hunger. He sits up and growls, exciting you. His eyes glow amber, and without warning he transforms into a brown cave bear. You bite your lip at the transformation, aroused by his show of strength. He transforms back into his elvish form, stumbling.

"I-I'm so sorry, I transform when my baser... urges become too much." You shake your head, before sitting down and spreading your legs. Your hand spreads your cunt open, and he watches how your thighs and lips glisten with arousal.

"Breed me, my bear." His eyes flash golden again, but he refrains from transforming again. His arms grasp your thighs and pull them to your shoulders. You're bent in half, and the tip of his still very hard cock is poking at your entrance.

"Please Halsin. Take me. Make me yours." You tell him, urging him to thrust into you. He grunts and thrusts into you with one stroke, burying himself to the hilt. Your back arches off the sand, breasts pressed against his chest. Your lips meet again, teeth clashing at the force of your kisses. His thrusts are rough, and he continues to hit that sweet spot. You keen in his mouth, and he chuckles breathlessly. He continues his pace, hitting that spot effortlessly each time. His hips grind against your clit with each thrust, and your body is overstimulated quickly. You know you will not last long, his passion and accuracy in driving you wild bringing you closer to your precipice.

His lips leave yours, before latching onto your neck and biting you. You caterwaul at the action, gripping his triceps tightly. Your nails are digging into the skin, but he does not care. He is selfish in this moment, wishing you would stay like this with him forever, until the world has disintegrated around them. He removes his teeth from your neck, before his lips latch onto your nipple and suckle from them. Its too much, and you arch your back painfully as you finish. Your constricting walls bring him to completion, your cunt milking his cock. You whimper as you feel his heavy load inside you, leaking around his cock. He thrusts again, and both of you seize with sensitivity. He pulls out of you gently, before laying down next to you. His arm pulls you onto his chest, and you bask in his warmth.

"I'm sorry." He whispers to you. Your head snaps up to look at him. He looks upset, his brows furrowed.

"What's wrong, my bear?" He shakes his head.

"I'm selfish. I'm afraid for the sun's rise for that may take you away from me forever. I... I do not want to let you go, my love." Your eyes get misty, and your hug him fiercely.

"Why apologize? If I could I'd spend eternity in your embrace." His arms wrap around you, holding you to him tightly.

"But you cannot." He whispers. A tear leaves your eyes.

"I'm afraid not. But I can promise to come to you again. When the wind wafts the smell of lavender and marigolds in the air, that will be me calling to you." He closes his eyes and savours his last moments with you.

"Then let us enjoy what time we have left." You nod, wiping your tears from your eyes.

Until sunrise, he spends his time with you in silence, basking in your company. He has never felt such loss when the person has not left his embrace. This time with you has changed him, and he does not know how he can continue his devotion and duties after meeting you. When the dawn breaks, you're moving out of his arms, heartbroken.

"I will visit you as soon as I can." You promise him, getting dressed in your dryadic dress. He pulls his clothes onto his body, which has become cold without your touch.

"I will not forget this moment with you-" He pauses, frowning at his realization. "And… What is your name?" He asks you, cringing as he realizes his poor manners. You look over your shoulder, smiling gently as the sun hits your body.

"(Y/N). Hopefully fate allows us another moment together, my handsome bear." You disappear with a flourish, fully bloomed lavender and marigolds left where you were standing. Y/N… Your name is sweet on his tongue, sweeter than the taste of you. He can never forget a name as sweet as yours, a name that will probably stay branded on his brain until his last breathe.

THE END.

If you'd like to request anything, please do so! I'm getting back into writing and I'd love to write anything inspired by the people! Send requests here: LINK Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist: LINK

#fanfic #fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #smut #halsin smut #halsin x reader #halsin #halsin bg3 #halsin x dryad!reader #oh yeah we get sex #sex time #you call him my bear #i want him so bad #need his tree trunk arms around me NOW #im attracted to pixels help

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sweetsaladpainterranch · 23 days ago

Text

The Rival (Chapter 4)

(Summary: Alastor sought to possess one of the only does in Pentagram City for the rut season, however, you wanted a mate, not a master. But what happens when a handsome new buck shows up one day and tries to capture your attention away from the Radio Demon. Who will you choose?)

***

You could see nothing. Where once there was a seemingly paralyzed Alastor standing in front of a smirking James, there was now a swirling vortex of alive blackness that had completely overtaken the two men. You and Husk could only watch helplessly from the back porch as the fate of the duel was decided privately, but…Alastor couldn’t actually lose, right?

“Fuck, I didn’t think the boss would actually pull out the spectral tunnel!”, Husk mumbled, “ain’t seen that smoky bitch in almost a decade.”

“Guys!?”, A distraught Charlie and an irate Vaggie suddenly appeared and shouted from the back door, “WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?? WHY IS THE SKY OVER THE HOTEL COMPLETELY BLACK?!” You thought the princess might actually have a panic attack if she didn’t start breathing as she continued to take in her back garden. She looked towards you and Husk questioningly and you shamefully replayed the morning’s events beginning with Alastor catching you making out with the newest tenant and ending with the swirling black void being the product of the buck’s fight.

“You’ve got to stop them, Charlie!”, you stepped towards the princess with imploring eyes and shook her by the shoulders, “They’re going to kill each other!”

Vaggie quickly moved your hands away so that the shaken princess could stabilize herself and hand off her red suit jacket. Rolling up the sleeves of her dress shirt and muttering something about not taking shit from other demons or some nonsense, Charlie strutted off in the direction of her hotelier’s spectral twister with a determined expression. However, before your, now demonic-looking leader, reached the terrifying shadow manifestation it disappeared completely and left only an undisturbed Alastor holding up a very tired, but otherwise unscathed, looking James.

…

A day later things had already changed dramatically at the Hazbin Hotel. Firstly, you had expected Alastor to jump at the chance that his win over James granted him and take you deep within his bayou den. However, he simply declared that he was no longer worthy of being your mate and asked for the opportunity to prove himself to you (whatever that meant), while you found yourself nearly overcome with heavy emotions.

Also, at the same time, an incredible amount of sexual frustration coursed through you from being left at the start of your heat with no one to sate you, but this could actually be what you’ve been longing for. A mate instead of a seasonal sex buddy.

Secondly, James left without a single word to you and left that same afternoon. Only taking what little he had brought with him and swiftly exiting (running) through the large front doors without looking back. He refused to answer any of the questions or affirmations Charlie hurled at him in a desperate attempt to calm her retreating tenant, but he merely offered a small apology for the trouble and a gruff “thanks” for the hospitality. You also noticed a slightly sweet, yet familiar, aroma emanating from him, though you just couldn’t place where you knew that floral scent from.

What the fuck? He could have at least given you some sort of explanation after causing so much trouble!

Who knew what Alastor could’ve meant about being “worthy”. All you could do was retire to your hotel room for the time being as you prayed that he would take pity on you and relieve this fever upon your soul. Every passing hour became worse and worse as your entire body felt like it might burn up in your bed and you felt sweat soak your nightshirt. You knew better than to either change your sheets or keep on anything but a shirt as they’ll only get dampened again by your heat’s fluids. Who knows how far into your season you were now, you had already lost track of time and could only weakly reach out for the emergency rations, that you noticed had kept restocking themselves magically at your bedside, to eat and drink enough to balance out the energy you were burning trying to conquer your lust on your own. Though, no amount of self-initiated orgasms, with or without a vibrator, helped to quench your demonic biology’s demand to be bred by a buck.

And not just any buck. YOUR BUCK.

You whimpered pitifully as your foggy mind wandered to where your mate, the one male who was strong enough to trigger your heat, went off to and cried when the thought of his slight rejection again sounded within your ears. What if he had chosen another? Not likely since you were the only doe you knew of in all of time you’d fallen into Hell, but you were exhausted, and logic wasn’t a concern as you were soon sure that he must be fucking another through her own season.

Dammit! Why was a female’s heat so much worse than a male’s?!

Both Alastor and James seemed to be at least able to stroll around their daily lives normally a few days, even a week or so, into their seasons with barely any problem. Then a depressing thought made itself known. Was it because you weren’t strong enough to control your body? Was that what Alastor thought too? Was that why James suddenly left without a word? That must be it! Your fragile mind agreed. They must be disgusted with how you were far too weak to wrangle either of them during their fight and now they knew you had become a poor, wanton slut. A fat tear slipped out of your clenched-shut eyelids as you accepted that you would be alone in this torture for however long your heat decided to drag on. The fever must have finally become too much because you were cast adrift within a fitful sleep of nightmares… and your Alastor.

…

Alastor stood tall, holding out his felled opponent’s, still beating heart, in front of his inwardly crushed face and wet eyes as the tornado of his shadows raged around them in time with his own growing fury.

“No? Well then, how about a… deal?”, the Radio Demon purred out excitedly and thought his smile might actually cut his face in half if it got any bigger. He continued with his proposal, “You see, my good man, my spectral companion picked up some rather racy gossip while he was housed within you about your human life.”

James could only express himself through pained gasps and wet grunts in response as he barely held onto consciousness through Alastor’s monologue, but pleasant memories of his past reared themselves in his mind. The sunlit days spent on his farm with his barn animals and dogs, running church bake sales with his mother-in-law, and enjoying a beer in the quiet stillness before visiting his wife and the others in the rabbit hutch.

A cruel cackle brought his attention back to the blood-soaked present. Alastor’s voice was almost casual, “I, of all people, understand how living in the rural country provides a certain amount of privacy and how being a member of the local congregation affords the shield of social standing.” Alastor shrugged his shoulders as if he were talking to Mimsy about the good old days up top, however, he straightened himself up and squeezed the frail, pink heart in his large palm.

With a sudden snarl, the Radio Demon morphed his expression into something absolutely frightening, even for a demon, and leaned forward in disgust once again, “I saw how you kidnapped those girls from the surrounding towns. How you raped them like the filthy animal you are and sold the children you stole from them to those traffickers.”

“Not even your own wife was safe from your perverted nature and you lowered her into the role of one of your…rabbits…once she found out the total brutality of your crimes and tried to go to the police.”, Alastor spat with extreme distaste, “I of all men belong in Hell, but I simply cannot stomach those who show no measure of respect for the fairer sex among us.”

Another tight squeeze of the reindeer’s heart calmed the deer’s ever-expanding anger towards the brute and the thought of making it into a stress ball tickled him so that he doubled over with manic laughter. Wiping a tear away from his eye, Alastor once again focused on James and the silent pleas within his victim’s eyes.

“Let’s begin, shall we?”, Alastor purred, “My proposal is that, in exchange for your life, you will feel the same pain that you caused your victims.” His voice lowered and grew colder once more, “The fate that you had planned for my darling doe when you first set your putrid eyes on her in town. To snatch her away to use for yourself and…profit on… from the other males in town.” His shadow hissed from its position amongst the other specters in the vortex at the thought of such torture having been planned for you and its master continued.

“However, you had smelled me on her but were confident in your newfound demonic abilities so you took advantage of the princess’s good graces, something you will thank her for, and decided to take your chances with whatever was awaiting you. Yet we now see how that worked out for you. HA!” Alastor’s antlers elongated as his rage once again built up at the thought of James laying a finger on your perfect skin and he held out his hand, “Either accept this deal and embrace the suffering of those women or I will simply consume your soul, and you will serve me like every other disrespectful wretch that dared to cross me.” He gestured around the void and only then did James notice the eternally wailing faces that made up the walls of the dark funnel. All howling and clawing and climbing over each other in their agony.

James inhaled with all the effort he could muster and dropped his hand as best he could into Alastor’s as a flash of bright green flashed out between them and engulfed the dying reindeer. The only sensation that James could process was the burning of his flesh that seemed to last years and he couldn’t even hear his own screams over Alastor’s victorious laughing, but, before he knew it, the agony had been replaced by an odd feeling in his core. The defeated reindeer remained on his knees as he quickly patted down his jaw and chest to make sure everything was in place and he noticed that he didn’t even have a rip in his flannel shirt nor a scratch to be found on his skin. If not for the cold sensation of the heavy chain wrapped around his thick neck, James could almost put the entire afternoon up to a bad dream.

“What did you do to me?”, he demanded shakily as Alastor roughly hauled him up to his feet by the arm and merely smiled normally, “I suggest you keep our agreement to yourself if you wish to live long enough to find out. Now!”, Clapped the Radio Demon, ”we have guests to humor.”

Alastor could feel Charlie’s demonic energy approaching his position and, after straightening up his already somehow pristine appearance, dispersed the spectral tornado and grinned widely at the incoming princess. “Charlie! Good to see you my dear!”, he began stepping forward with James in tow and slapped the reindeer’s shoulder playfully in response to Vaggie’s flying accusations of a fight.

“Merely having a productive chat, Vagatha, and we required a bit of privacy from the peanut gallery.”, he shrugged leaving Charlie to check a silent James for injuries, “After all, isn’t our fearless leader always preaching communication over confrontation? Just ask the old boy, himself, if you don’t believe me.” Everyone looked towards James for confirmation, including Alastor over his shoulder, however, he only nodded once and quickly made his way inside the hotel. Noticeably walking a bit lopsided, the reindeer completely sidestepped you as much as he could without so much as a glance. Good. Alastor thought and he knew the beta male felt his red gaze as it burned into the back of his retreating head.

While James disappeared within the building the air suddenly felt like it was knocked out of Alastor’s chest and had to subtly stabilize himself with his cane as the heavily sweet musk of your heat finally assaulted his senses. To his delight, you seemed just as enraptured by his scent and barely acknowledged James’s leave or even Charlie and Vaggie running past you after the beaten reindeer. He could see that your face was flushed, your hands fidgeted over the constricting clothes you wore, and your breathing picked up in anticipation with each step he took in your direction. Oh, how he wished he could take his animal mind’s advice and just take you right there where you waited for him on the porch. His spoils of war so to speak.

But…that’s not how this season is going to go, Alastor told himself and tried to take a deep breath to clear the biological fog. That only made the member in his slacks twitch more aggressively, though, as he accidentally took a big gulp of your pheromones and stopped in his tracks before coming too close. You looked at him in confusion and your ears flopped over a bit when you leaned your head over in a silent question. He knew what images were flashing in your mind, but he needed to get control of this situation if anything was going to change.

“Darling, I-”, he began tensely and straightened his shoulders, “I have come to understand that I have wronged you these many seasons that you have spent by my side and I cannot stand for it to continue any longer. I cannot harm my beloved doe anymore and-“, he swallowed thickly to finish as you crept towards him slowly, “and I must admit that I no longer feel that I am worthy of your affection.”

He noticed how your ears slipped back onto your head as the realization of what he was saying churned in your mind (as best it could at the moment), however, Alastor nearly jumped you again as he took in your pouting lips while you pressed yourself against him and inhaled.

The blood was quickly leaving his head to travel south, and He was losing the battle of logic fast so he gripped your shoulders with a huff of effort and gently moved you back from him. Looking into your clouded eyes, he never felt like The Radio Demon and, rather, knew himself as simply a buck gazing towards his mate. A mate he has not treated fairly as she had him and that fact cut him to the soul, but he would redeem himself! Though, not in the way that Charlie would approve of.

Alastor, beginning to massage your slight shoulders, requested, “I’m asking for the chance to prove myself to be the superior choice for, not just this season, but for every season to come as well.” He knelt and took your hand before staring silently up into your face in suspense; knowing full well that you could simply deny him and find whomever you wanted …and he’d have to let you. Despite his misgivings, you merely nodded your head once and teared up just a bit as if you’d been waiting for his confession for years. Perhaps you had. He stood tall before you with newfound determination for his mission and promised to return to your side as soon as it was finished properly.

The Radio Demon immediately leaned forward to kiss your forehead tenderly and melted into the shadows with a vicious smile to locate his newest (unwilling) partner in crime.

***

This one is the longest chapter I've done yet, but I kinda hate it 😅 It's important because it introduces the lead into the last chapter and our motivation to root against James, but I just can't seem to like it (idk if that even makes sense lol), This is the first time I've tried to write that kind of villain story. What did you think?

-S.S.P.R.

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#hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you

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