#anyway i have to make up my own because i am also on a low sodium diet THIS COMBINATION OF PROBLEMS IS A JOY TO BALANCE LET ME TELL YOU

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO REBLOG, I WAS PACKING TO MOVE 🙂‍↕️ always these r my comments on my first AND SECOND read through because im actually obsessed with them ⬇️

also the two songs i've been playing on repeat for this fic is everytime by ariana grande and y.d.l.r by tory lanez. take from that as u will 😌

Hockey and, well, the fact that you hadn’t missed a game since… well, since Rafe and you broke up.

i cannot tell u how giggly i am rn

God, why did he always have to look so fucking good? His broad shoulders filling out his number 17 jersey, that stupid confident smirk as he skated out with the rest of the team. His dark blonde hair peeked out from under his helmet He was captain this year, and it made sense—he’d been working his ass off since…ever. You couldn’t think of anyone more deserving than him. 

i love this so MUCH SO SO SO MUCH

You knew better than to be here, yet somehow you ended up courtside anyway. Probably because you’d never let him run you out of your favorite game. Not even if he was captain now. This was your team, the one you’d been coming to see since before Rafe even knew what a slapshot was.

i unfortunately do not know what a slapshot is

You sank further into Elijah’s side, forcing your eyes away from your ex. But it wasn’t until you caught the dark blue of the jersey you were wearing in the corner of your eye that you realized… You’d put on Rafe’s jersey. 

YOU TOOK MY IDEA AHHHH 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

You followed his gaze, heart dropping. They were zooming in on the two of you. You could feel the crowd around you start to cheer and whistle as Elijah leaned in closer, clearly getting ready to kiss you.

ohmygodohmygodohmygodddd

Bang!In the span of a second, a body slammed into the boards right in front you, the sound so loud it made you jump. The entire section gasped, and you turned your head just in time to see Rafe standing there, glaring up at you from behind the glass. His eyes were locked on you, jaw clenched.

As he FUCKING SHOULD I AM LITERALLY ON THE EDGE OF MY SEATTT

That was what had your pulse racing. You could barely focus on Elijah anymore. The way he laughed, oblivious, made your stomach churn because Rafe—Rafe—was staring like he owned you. He always had this way of making you feel like no matter what, no matter who else was around, you were his. 

choose me love me fuck me (who said that)

Then, still staring at you, he mouthed the words, "I dare you."

When the kiss ended, you forced a smile at Elijah, but your mind was a mess. Rafe’s eyes were still on you, and you could practically feel anger radiating off him, even through the thick glass.

his jealousy is RADIATING and i’m eating all of it up

“Bullshit,” he growled, leaning in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Bringing a date with you. Do you want me to kill someone?"

sometimes yes pls prove how obsessed u r w me

“I hate you,” you muttered. It was a weak defense, and you both knew it.

my favorite part of hate sex when they r LIARS

Rafe leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “Yeah?” His voice was a low rasp that made your knees weak. “Funny, you never sound like you hate me when you’re under me.”

HES SUCH A DICK

His tongue slipped past your lips, and you bit down, hard, just to remind him you weren’t going to make this easy. He groaned, low and rough, pulling back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark. "You always did like it rough."

OH I FUCKING LOVE HERRR

But he wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, his mouth capturing yours again in a kiss so raw, it was borderline filthy. And that was it. Your last piece of control vanished, and you were lost in him all over again.

HE DOESNT EVEN LET HER ANSWER why is this so hotttt

Rafe just laughed, “No, you don’t,” he growled, his hands grabbing your hips as he settled you onto one of the locker room benches. “But keep telling yourself that.”

i’m so quiet bc i’m so into this 🫣🫣🫣🫣

“You’re mine,” Rafe growled, his voice rough as he thrust into you, each movement deep and brutal.“Doesn’t matter who you’re with, doesn’t matter how much you try to deny it—you’ll always come back to me.”

ONE FUCKING CHANCE

He pulled out suddenly, and before you could catch your breath, he yanked you up, turning you around. You barely had time to register what was happening before he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the cold locker. His cock was back inside you in seconds, filling you again, and you moaned, the new angle sending jolts of pleasure through your already overstimulated pussy.

he’s INSATIABLE

“Go back to your date,” Rafe continued, his voice mocking now, “Pretend like he’s enough for you.”

YKW FUCK U I WILL

He knew it too. "I never wanted to lose you," he admitted quietly.You swallowed hard, your chest tight. "You already did."

so u give me earth-shattering smut and emotional angst? screw u

💌 i am absolutely enamored by the way u wrote their tension, how rafe fucking banged against the plexiglass and DARES her ohmygod i melted in a fucking puddle. ur smut was absolutely hot scorning riveting AND I WAS SO SURPRISED BY THIS MANS STAMINA LIKE CAN WE CATCH A BREATHE ugh ☺️💘 u did my req so much justice n gave me sm inspo i must write now

ex!reader who loves the game and wants to support her team but hockey captain!rafe is on the ice. he thinks she’s there for him but when she comes in with a date? and when they get put on the kiss cam? rafe slams into the glass to scare them? hate sex????

someone who lets you break them twice - hockey!toxic!rafe x ex!reader (+18)

warnings: veryyy long and 99% smut🙂‍↕️ the things i do for you...

The cold air inside the rink always made your skin tingle. Your breath curled in front of you like smoke as you moved uncomfortably on the bleachers, pulling your jacket tighter around you. This is why you hated fall. It was too cold to be outside, too early to be winter. But tonight wasn’t about the weather—it was about hockey.

Hockey and, well, the fact that you hadn’t missed a game since… well, since Rafe and you broke up.

“Everything okay?” The voice beside you pulled you back to reality.

Elijah, the guy you’d been seeing for the past couple of weeks, smiled at you, oblivious to the bullshit taking over your mind, and you gave him your best smile back.

“Yeah, just cold,” you said, trying to focus. You weren’t here for Rafe, not anymore. You loved hockey. You loved watching the boys skate across the ice, their power and grace.

Or at least that was what you kept telling yourself.

Elijah wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him, and you leaned in, feeling his warmth. The game was just about to start, and the arena lights dimmed slightly, casting shadows over the rink. The roar of the crowd drowned your thoughts for a moment as the players took the ice.

And then, as if the universe was personally trying to screw with you, you saw him.

Rafe.

Of course, he looked good.

God, why did he always have to look so fucking good? His broad shoulders filling out his number 17 jersey, that stupid confident smirk as he skated out with the rest of the team. His dark blonde hair peeked out from under his helmet He was captain this year, and it made sense—he’d been working his ass off since…ever. You couldn’t think of anyone more deserving than him. 

He always had to be in charge, on and off the ice.

He still had that same cocky swagger that made you wanna scream… for entirely different reasons now.

You knew better than to be here, yet somehow you ended up courtside anyway. Probably because you’d never let him run you out of your favorite game. Not even if he was captain now. This was your team, the one you’d been coming to see since before Rafe even knew what a slapshot was.

You sank further into Elijah’s side, forcing your eyes away from your ex. But it wasn’t until you caught the dark blue of the jersey you were wearing in the corner of your eye that you realized… You’d put on Rafe’s jersey. 

His number. The one you’d always worn to support him when you were together. Out of all the team merch you owned, of course you had to wear his.

“You really like hockey a lot, huh?” Elijah asked, glancing down at your jersey.

“Yeah,” You mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’ve been following the team for a while.”

Lies. You loved hockey, sure. But you loved Rafe a little more. Or, you used to. Or, well, maybe that was still complicated.

The puck dropped, and the game started. For a while, you tried to focus on the action. Rafe was all over the ice, playing like the goddamn superstar he thought he was. You couldn’t help but notice how his gaze kept darting up toward the stands, like he knew you were there. And maybe he did

Halfway through the second period, he slammed into an opposing player, sending him crashing into the boards. The sound echoed through the arena, and the crowd went wild, but you could feel your stomach knotting up. That had always been Rafe—intense, aggressive, unable to hold back. On the ice or off.

You tried to focus on Elijah, laughing at something he was saying, but your heart wasn’t in it. And then, just when you thought you’d survived the worst of it, the kiss cam flashed up on the big screen. Your laughter died in your throat as you realized what was happening, your face heating up instantly. You weren’t exactly embarrassed, but this was... awkward. 

“Aw, how cute,” He said, grinning as he pointed to the screen.

You followed his gaze, heart dropping. They were zooming in on the two of you. You could feel the crowd around you start to cheer and whistle as Elijah leaned in closer, clearly getting ready to kiss you.

You could see him coming toward you, could see his lips getting closer, but all you could think about was—

Bang!

In the span of a second, a body slammed into the boards right in front you, the sound so loud it made you jump. The entire section gasped, and you turned your head just in time to see Rafe standing there, glaring up at you from behind the glass. His eyes were locked on you, jaw clenched.

He looked like he was ready to tear Elijah apart, or you, or both of you. His chest was heaving, eyes blazing, standing mere inches away from where you sat. He had skated right into the glass.

Your heart was practically in your throat, and it wasn't from Elijah being close. The look on Rafe’s face as he stood on the other side of the glass?

That was what had your pulse racing. You could barely focus on Elijah anymore. The way he laughed, oblivious, made your stomach churn because Rafe—Rafe—was staring like he owned you. He always had this way of making you feel like no matter what, no matter who else was around, you were his. 

And you hated that you still kind of liked it.

Then, still staring at you, he mouthed the words, "I dare you."

Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

Those stupid words. Silently mouthed, but somehow loud enough to hit you like a punch through the glass. I dare you. God, what was wrong with him? He knew exactly how to push your buttons. And of course, it was working. He wasn’t just playing hockey—he was playing with you.

You could feel Elijah shifting next to you, still oblivious to the whole freaking drama unfolding right in front of him.

He was so sweet, too sweet, and it was almost infuriating right now because Rafe was standing there, with his stupid intense eyes, all but daring you to move on. Why did he have to look at you like that—like he knew you were still his.

The breakup had been brutal, the kind of messy, loud explosion where neither of you were willing to be the first to walk away. You were both too stubborn, too prideful. And now here you were, months later, still dealing with the fallout. 

Elijah finally leaned in, lips brushing yours, and you kissed him, but your heart wasn’t in it. All you could feel was Rafe’s stare burning into you. The kiss cam lingered for a few seconds, and the crowd cheered, but all you felt was... empty.

When the kiss ended, you forced a smile at Elijah, but your mind was a mess. Rafe’s eyes were still on you, and you could practically feel anger radiating off him, even through the thick glass.

You glanced down, avoiding his gaze, and tugged at the hem of his old jersey, suddenly feeling like you didn’t belong in it anymore. You leaned into Elijah, mostly out of spite at this point. You could practically hear Rafe’s teeth grinding from across the glass. Good. If he thought he could just walk around, acting like he owned the place—and you—then he deserved to stew in it a little.

But, of course, he wasn’t the kind of guy to just let something like that go. You watched as he skated back into play, but his eyes kept flicking up to where you sat, like he couldn’t stop checking to make sure you were still there. Still with Elijah. His shoulders were tense, movements a little too aggressive, like he was about to snap.

You tried to focus on the game again, but your mind kept drifting back to him. You hated this. You hated that he could still make you feel this way, even now, after everything.

After the fights, after the breakup, after swearing you were over him. Why was it so hard to let him go?

The third period started, and Rafe was everywhere, throwing his weight around like he had something to prove. And maybe he did. Every hit was harder, every pass sharper. It was like he was playing angry. And you couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied, knowing you’d gotten under his skin.

But then, with less than five minutes left in the game, things escalated. He slammed into one of the opposing players so hard that the guy went down, and the whistle blew immediately. The crowd was roaring, but Rafe didn’t back off. He stood over the guy, glaring down at him like he was ready to throw a punch.

"Jesus," Elijah muttered beside you. "What the hell’s his problem?"

You didn’t answer. You knew exactly what his problem was.

The ref skated over, shouting something at Rafe, but his eyes weren’t on the ref. They were still on you, even as the other guy on the ice slowly got back to his feet. The arena was buzzing, the crowd getting rowdy, and for a second, you thought Rafe was going to lose it right there. His fists clenched, jaw set—he looked like he was ready to drop gloves and start swinging.

And then he smirked.

It was that same cocky smirk you knew so well, the one he always flashed right before doing something reckless. The ref sent him to the penalty box, and he skated off, still with that fucking look plastered on his face. Your heart was racing, your body tense. Elijah had leaned back in his seat, totally unaware about everything.

“Man, that guy’s intense,” Elijah said, shaking his head, eyes still on the ice.

You didn’t answer. Intense didn’t even begin to cover it.

Rafe was sitting in the penalty box now, helmet off, running a hand through his hair like he didn’t just about murder a guy on the ice. You could feel his eyes on you, even from all the way across the rink. You hated it. You hated that he could still get to you like this.

The last few minutes of the game passed in an instant. You weren’t really paying attention anymore, not to the score, not to the plays. You were too busy trying not to think about Rafe, about the way he had looked at you. About the way it had made you feel.

When the final buzzer sounded, the crowd erupted in cheers. Elijah stood up, stretching, turning to you with a smile.

“Ready to head out?” he asked.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

As you made your way toward the exit, weaving through the crowd, you could feel the tension building in your chest. It wasn’t over. It never really was with Rafe.

And you knew—somehow—you weren’t getting out of here without seeing him again.

You reached the bottom of the stands, where a crowd had gathered near the exit. Elijah was still chatting about the game, still clueless. But you were distracted, scanning the crowd without even realizing it.

And then you saw him. Of course, you did.

Rafe was leaning against the wall, still in his gear, helmet tucked under his arm. His eyes locked on yours the second you stepped into his line of sight. He didn’t even pretend to care about the people around him—his gaze was dark, intense, like a predator waiting for its moment.

You hated how your heart skipped.

Elijah noticed you freeze and followed your gaze, his smile faltering when he saw Rafe standing there.

"Isn’t that the captain guy?" he asked, glancing between you and Rafe, confused.

You swallowed hard, forcing your feet to keep moving. “Yeah. That’s him.”

As you passed by, Rafe pushed off the wall, stepping right into your path. Elijah, sweet, unsuspecting Elijah, paused beside you.

"Leaving already?" Rafe’s voice was low, casual, but his eyes were locked on yours, ignoring Elijah completely. "Didn’t even stick around to congratulate the team?"

You clenched your jaw, fighting to keep your cool. "It’s late, Rafe. We’re heading out."

But he wasn’t letting you off that easy. He took a step closer, his towering frame making Elijah shift uncomfortably. "You didn’t used to leave so soon," he said, voice dripping with that familiar cockiness. "Used to be the last one out."

Because you’d always let him fuck you in the locker room.

Elijah cleared his throat, trying to stand his ground. "Uh, yeah, we’ve got plans after this."

Rafe’s eyes flicked to him for the briefest second, before landing back on you.

"Plans, huh?"

Your pulse was hammering, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. Why did he always have to do this—why couldn’t he just let you go?

“Rafe, we’re done,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to hold on to the last shred of your composure. “You don’t get to pull this shit anymore.”

He glanced at Elijah briefly, his gaze cold and dismissive, then back at you. “You sure about that?” he asked, “Because it doesn’t look like it.”

You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms as you tried to calm yourself. You didn’t need this right now. Not with Elijah here. Not after everything.

“Let’s go Elijah,” you said, tugging at Elijah’s arm, desperate to get out of there before things escalated. But Rafe wasn’t having it.

He stepped in front of you again, blocking your path like he had some kind of claim on you. And God, the worst part was—you weren’t sure he was wrong.

You glanced at Elijah, who was staring at the two of you like he had walked into the middle of a conversation he couldn’t quite follow. “Look, dude,” he started, awkwardly laughing, “I don’t know what this is, but—”

“It’s nothing,” you cut him off quickly, your voice tight. “Let’s just go.”

But Rafe wasn’t about to let it go. 

“Yeah, Elijah,” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “It’s nothing.” His eyes flicked to you, dark and daring, and before you could stop yourself, you met his gaze with the same fire.

Elijah’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out, frowning.

“Shit,” he muttered, distracted. “I’ve gotta take this call real quick. Give me a sec?” He stepped away, leaving you and Rafe standing there in the middle of the hallway, your body practically vibrating.

He was on you in an instant, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the locker room door. 

“Rafe, what the fuck—” you hissed, but he wasn’t letting go.

You tried to resist, but something inside you broke down—the anger, the unresolved pull between you two. And maybe it was the way he still had that stupid hold on you, the way your body responded when you shouldn’t want it to.

Or maybe it was the fact that you’d never fully closed the door on Rafe.

He shoved the door open, pulling you inside the dimly lit hallway that led to the locker room. The second the door closed, you spun around, shoving him in the chest hard. 

“You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that?”

Rafe barely flinched, his gaze smoldering as he crowded you against the wall. 

“Yeah? You didn’t seem to think so when you were wearing my jersey tonight.”

“That was an accident.”

“Bullshit,” he growled, leaning in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Bringing a date with you. Do you want me to kill someone?"

Your heart was pounding, and not just because Rafe had you pinned against the wall like he always fucking did— God, why did he have to be so damn close? The scent of his cologne mixed with the sweat from the game, sending your mind spiraling. He was overwhelming, and you hated it. You hated him for still making you feel like this.

“Get off me,” you snapped, but it came out weaker than you intended. The way his blue eyes were boring into yours, like he could see through all your bullshit, wasn’t helping.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it grew.

“C’mon, baby, don’t act like this wasn’t what you wanted. You show up, wearin’ my number, sitting there with some random guy like I don’t still own you.” 

He stepped closer, caging you in completely. You pressed your hands against his chest, but it wasn’t like you were really pushing him away. And he knew it.

“You don’t own shit,” you spat, glaring up at him. But even as the words left your mouth, you knew you didn’t believe them. The truth was, part of you had always been his.

Rafe’s lips curved into a smug grin as if he could read every thought running through your head.

“Really? ’Cause from where I’m standin’, you’ve been thinkin’ about me all night.” His breath was hot on your skin, and you hated how much you wanted to close the distance between you.

Your jaw clenched as you tried to muster the strength to tell him to fuck off, to leave you alone, but he was right. As much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise, he was still in your head, under your skin. The way his body hovered over yours—it was like nothing had changed. Like you hadn’t spent the last few months trying to forget him.

His hand found your hip, fingers pressing into your skin through your jeans, and you felt your body betray you. You cursed yourself silently as heat pooled low in your stomach. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, didn’t want him to know how much power he still had. But damn it, he knew. He always fucking knew.

“I hate you,” you muttered. It was a weak defense, and you both knew it.

Rafe leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “Yeah?” His voice was a low rasp that made your knees weak. “Funny, you never sound like you hate me when you’re under me.”

Your breath hitched, and you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened.

“Don’t—”

But he was already kissing you, hard and rough like he owned you, like you were his and his alone.

And the worst part? You kissed him back. His hands were on you, grabbing at your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. You wanted to shove him away, to slap that stupid look off his face—but your body had other plans. 

This was so wrong, on so many levels. 

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, but Rafe didn’t back off. He was staring down at you like you were his next meal, like he’d been starving without you.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you bit out, trying to cling to some sense of control.

Rafe’s grin widened, wicked and knowing. He leaned in again, lips ghosting over yours. “We both know that's a lie.”

You clenched your fists, frustrated beyond belief. Frustrated at him, at yourself, at how easy it was for him to pull you right back in.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, but the breathless tone in your voice told a different story.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, the corner of his mouth lifting in that infuriatingly sexy way he always did.

“Oh, you will.”

And God help you—you knew he was right. That fucking arrogance. It crawled under your skin, set your blood on fire in ways it shouldn’t.

You wanted to punch him, shove him, do something to wipe that smug expression off his face. But instead, you grabbed his shirt, pulling him back toward you, kissing him with all the fury you felt.

His lips crushed against yours, and it wasn’t gentle—there was nothing soft or sweet about this. It was all heat and frustration, months of unresolved anger bursting out in one chaotic, messy kiss.

His tongue slipped past your lips, and you bit down, hard, just to remind him you weren’t going to make this easy. He groaned, low and rough, pulling back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark. "You always did like it rough."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you yanked him down, kissing him like you needed to get all of this out of your system. His hands roamed your body, possessive, rough, and you hated how much you craved him, like you were still his.

You weren’t his. You couldn’t be.

But every heated breath you took, every desperate movement your body made, was telling you otherwise.

When his lips moved down your neck, teeth grazing your skin, you gasped, tilting your head back as your resolve crumbled to pieces. He knew exactly what to do, how to make you fall apart, and it pissed you off that he still had that power.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you with ease, pressing you harder against the wall. Your breath hitched, the cold tile behind you making you gasp. His mouth was on you, hot and demanding, and for a moment, it was like nothing else mattered.

Not Elijah, not the fact that this was so damn wrong, not the months of hurt and anger you’d been holding onto.

There was only Rafe. The way he touched you, the way he kissed you like he was trying to stake his claim all over again. Like you hadn’t been apart at all.

"Tell me you don’t want this," Rafe muttered against your lips.

You bit down on your lip, trying to stop the words from spilling out. You did want this. You hated that you did, but fuck, you couldn’t lie—not to him, not to yourself.

“I—” You choked on the words, eyes meeting his, and for a split second, you thought maybe you’d find some kind of resolve, some way to pull yourself back from him.

But he wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, his mouth capturing yours again in a kiss so raw, it was borderline filthy. And that was it. Your last piece of control vanished, and you were lost in him all over again.

“Fuck,” you gasped, head spinning as his hands explored your body like he had every right to. Like you hadn’t spent months trying to break free of him.

Rafe pulled back just enough to smirk down at you, breathless and flushed. “Yeah, baby. That's what I thought."

His hands gripped your ass hard enough to leave bruises, you let out a frustrated, muffled groan, your fingers still tangled in his hair. It was a lot longer than the last time you’d seen him.

You could feel every inch of his muscle through the thin fabric of your shirt. It was suffocating in the best way, and you hated yourself for how much you wanted it.

How much you wanted him.

“You’re such an ass,” you gasped between kisses, your breath hitching when his mouth moved down to your neck. You felt him grin against your skin, the bastard.

“You say that like it’s supposed to stop you.” His voice was rough, low in your ear, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “But I don’t think it is.”

You were about to fire back, but his hands slid under your shirt, fingers grazing your skin, and whatever you were going to say was swallowed by the heat rushing through you. You hated that he still knew exactly how to get to you—how to pull you apart and leave you helpless against him.

“Rafe, this—” Your words were cut off when he bit down gently on your collarbone, sending a shockwave through your body. You clutched at his shirt.

“This what?” he taunted, pulling back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes intense. “This a mistake? Because I don’t think that’s what your body’s saying.”

You just glared up at him, trying to catch your breath. You hated that he was right. Again.

Always.

“I told you,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky, “this doesn’t mean anything.”

Rafe’s grip on you tightened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

Your heart was racing, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin. There was no denying it—you were here, and you weren’t leaving. Not yet.

Maybe not for a while.

And Rafe knew it.

His hands moved lower, fingers grazing the waistband of your jeans, and your breath hitched. This was dangerous territory. You knew that. 

“Last chance,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours. “You want me to stop?”

You should’ve said yes. You should’ve shoved him away and walked out of there with what little dignity you had left. But instead, you kissed him again—harder this time, angrier, like you needed to prove something to yourself. And maybe you did.

He yanked your shirt over your head in one rough motion, and you weren’t gentle either, tugging at his jersey until it was off and tossed aside. His hands were everywhere—on your back, in your hair, slipping under the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down with the same reckless urgency you’d been feeling since you laid eyes on him tonight.

“I hate you,” you whispered as your nails dragged down his chest, leaving angry red lines in their wake.

Rafe just laughed, “No, you don’t,” he growled, his hands grabbing your hips as he settled you onto one of the locker room benches. “But keep telling yourself that.”

Your jeans hit the floor, and he wasted no time, his hands gripping your thighs as he positioned himself between your legs, pressing you down on the bench, his body heavy against yours.

Everything was messy, and rushed, like neither of you could get enough. Like you were trying to erase the months of distance, of frustration, in the way you kissed him back, bit his lip, tugged at his hair.

 You hated how much you needed this. 

“Still think this doesn’t mean anything?” Rafe rasped, his voice hoarse as he pressed his forehead against yours, breathless and wild.

You could barely think, let alone speak, but somehow, you managed to gasp out, “Positive.”

Rafe’s mouth moved down your neck, biting and sucking, leaving marks you knew would still be there tomorrow. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

It was wrong, it was toxic, but fuck—there was something about the way he touched you. And body, traitorous and weak, responded like it always had.

You were furious with yourself, with him, with everything, but the anger only made it all hotter, more intense.

His fingers brushed against the seam of your panties, teasing, barely touching you, but doing enough to have you drenched. 

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, almost amused, slipping one finger under the fabric to run along your folds, barely dipping inside before pulling back out, "Was this all for Elijah?"

Sonofabitch.

“Stop talking,” you spat, but your voice was shaky, showing him the way you were falling apart under his touch. Rafe chuckled low in his throat, his finger moving back, this time slipping inside you, deep and slow.

You gasped, your head falling back as he began moving his finger, curling it inside you in just the right way. Your body responded immediately, hips jerking against him, desperate for more, but he took his time. He added another finger, stretching you out as his thumb rubbed slow circles over your clit, making your legs tremble beneath him.

He sped up, his fingers thrusting deeper, faster, hitting that spot inside you that made your mind go blank. “You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you? All those nights pretending you don’t think about me, but look at you now.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, legs shaking as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, his fingers driving you closer and closer to the orgasm you so desperately needed.

His thumb pressed harder against your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you. “Tell me how bad you need this.”

“Rafe—” you gasped, your hips bucking wildly against his hand. The tension inside you was coiled so tightly, so close to snapping. You hated him, hated yourself, but the words slipped out anyway. “I need it.”

He groaned, pleased, and that was all it took. He thrust his fingers harder, faster, until your body gave in completely. You hadn’t had a proper orgasm in months. Nothing could get you off properly. Your walls clenched around his fingers the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, your nails leaving half-moon marks in his skin as you trembled beneath him, lost in the sensation.

But he didn’t stop. He slowed down just enough to draw out every last bit of pleasure, his fingers still moving inside you as you rode out the aftershocks. When you finally caught your breath, he pulled his fingers out, his hand moving to cup your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

He shoved his pants down, not bothering to take them off completely, just enough to free himself. Your breath hitched when you felt him against you—hard, hot, and ready—and every rational thought you had left disappeared in that moment. He lined himself up, teasing you just enough to drive you crazy.

Before you could respond, he pushed into you in one hard, deliberate thrust. Your gasp turned into a low, breathless moan as your back arched, your hands gripping his shoulders for something to hold on to. The sensation of him stretching you, filling you, was overwhelming, almost too much, but exactly what you needed.

Rafe didn’t give you time to adjust. He pulled back and slammed into you again, setting a punishing rhythm that left you breathless, gasping for air. 

There was nothing gentle about it, nothing tender.

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he fucked you like he was trying to remind you who you belonged to.

And you hated how good it felt.

“You’re mine,” Rafe growled, his voice rough as he thrust into you, each movement deep and brutal.“Doesn’t matter who you’re with, doesn’t matter how much you try to deny it—you’ll always come back to me.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, but your body was betraying you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. 

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about this every night since we ended.”

You couldn’t.

The words were right there, on the tip of your tongue, but instead, a moan escaped your lips as he hit that perfect spot inside you. Your body arched against his, and you cursed yourself for being so weak.

“Fuck,” you gasped, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure built, every nerve in your body on fire.

“That’s what I thought,” Rafe growled, his pace quickening, the force of his thrusts making the bench creak beneath you.

The sound of the bench, the way his body pressed into yours so perfectly, the heat of his breath against your neck—it all made it impossible to think straight. You should have been disgusted with yourself for letting it get this far, for letting him have this kind of control over you. 

“I fucking hate you,” you managed to gasp out between breaths.

Rafe chuckled, “Yeah? Then why do you sound like that, huh?” His voice was taunting, filled with the arrogance you hated, “This pussy still mine, huh?”

You loved the way he grabbed you like you were his, even though you’d sworn, sworn, you were done with him.

You were still in love, weren’t you? Even after all the shit, all the screaming matches, the nights spent crying because of him. That was the part that pissed you off the most.

Before you knew, his hands were flipping you over so fast your knees hit the bench before you could react.

“Rafe—mmh,” you gasped, but your words died in your throat when he shoved you forward, pressing your chest flat against the cold wood of the bench. You barely had a second to brace yourself before his hands were gripping your ass, spreading you open for him.

He didn’t give you time to catch your breath. He was already dragging the head of his cock through your wetness, teasing, knowing how much you wanted it, even if you wouldn’t say it.

You squirmed, hating how desperate you felt, hating how your body responded to him like this. “Fuck, Rafe, stop teasing—”

“You want more?” he cut you off, voice dark and dripping with arrogance. He slapped your ass, just enough to sting, and you yelped, your back arching instinctively. “You’re gonna have to beg for it.”

"Like hell," you spat back.

He leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back, his mouth right by your ear.

 “You can act tough all you want, but I know how much you want this,” he gritted out, his cock sliding against your folds again, torturously slow. “I know how much you need it.”

Before you could snap back, he thrust into you hard, filling you completely in one brutal stroke. You cried out, hands gripping the edges of the bench, and Rafe didn’t even give you a second to adjust. He pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in, faster this time, deeper.

The angle had you seeing stars. The bench was narrow, forcing your legs closer together, making everything tighter, more intense. You couldn’t stop the way your body responded to him, hips moving back to meet his thrusts even though your mind was screaming at you to get a grip.

His hands gripped the fat of your ass, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small room, mixing with your moans and his ragged breathing.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Rafe groaned, his voice low and rough as he thrust into you, each movement hitting that perfect spot inside you, making your legs tremble. “So fucking tight for me.”

He pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that had you on the edge in seconds. You couldn’t stop the moan that ripped from your throat, your hips bucking wildly against him as the pleasure built, higher and higher until you felt like you might break apart.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” He rasped, his voice thick with lust. “I can feel it. Fuck.”

You tried to hold on, tried to keep some control, but it was useless. He knew exactly how to break you.

“I’m gonna come,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whimper as you felt the pleasure rising fast, threatening to consume you.

“Do it,” Rafe growled, his fingers rubbing harder, faster. “Come for me, baby.”

And you did.

Your orgasm crashed over you so hard your vision blurred, your body shaking as the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, your walls clenching around him, and Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he fucked you through it, relentless, brutal, until your entire body was trembling.

But he wasn’t done.

He pulled out suddenly, and before you could catch your breath, he yanked you up, turning you around. You barely had time to register what was happening before he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the cold locker. His cock was back inside you in seconds, filling you again, and you moaned, the new angle sending jolts of pleasure through your already overstimulated pussy.

He pounded into you, his grip on your ass bruising, and you clung to him, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he fucked you against the lockers. The sound of metal creaking under the force of his thrusts only made it hotter, more desperate. You could feel another orgasm building, and you hated him for it—hated how easily he could pull them from you. 

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough as he buried his face in your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin. “You’ll always be mine.”

And you hated that some twisted part of you wanted it to be true.

Your legs tightened around him, pulling him impossibly closer, deeper, as if you couldn’t get enough of him.

And God, you couldn’t.

His grip on your ass was rough, bruising, but it only made you moan louder. You were on the verge again—your body still tingling from the last orgasm, but the way he moved inside you, the way his teeth grazed your neck, it had you spiraling toward another one, faster than you thought possible.

“Look at you,” Rafe groaned, lifting his head just enough to lock eyes with you. His pupils were blown wide with lust, a wild look on his face that sent a thrill down your spine. “Fuck, you love this, don’t you?”

You did. Because no matter how much you hated him, how much you wanted to hate him—there was a part of you that still belonged to him. A part of you that couldn’t walk away.

His lips were everywhere—on your neck, your collarbone, your jaw—and you couldn’t stop the sounds escaping your throat as he kept driving into you.

“Say it,” he growled, “Say you’re mine.”

You bit down on your lip, trying to hold it in, trying to fight back, but every nerve in your body was betraying you. The way his body fit against yours, the way he moved inside you, it was all too much. You were coming again, and you hated it.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and wild. “Say it.”

You wanted to spit in his face. But your body was telling a different story, hips bucking against him, legs tightening around his waist again.

“R-Rafe,” you whimpered, hating how weak you sounded, how desperate.

His smirk was infuriating, but fuck, it was hot.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his pace quickening, each thrust deeper than the last. “You’re mine. Always have been.”

And then he slammed into you one last time, hitting that perfect spot inside you, and the orgasm tore through you, leaving you gasping and trembling in his arms. You cried out, head thrown back against the lockers as your body shook with the force of it, your nails raking down his back.

Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he rode out your orgasm, his movements growing sloppier, more erratic. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned, his hips jerking against yours as he finally let go, his release hitting hard. You felt the warmth of him spill inside you, as he held you against him, buried deep.

The second his breathing slowed and his grip on you loosened, reality came crashing back in. 

What the fuck had you done?

You pushed at his chest, trying to put some space between you, but he wasn’t letting go that easily. His arms stayed wrapped around you, his body pressed against yours like he still had something to prove.

“Get off,” you muttered, your voice weak, but sharper than before.

He chuckled, that low, arrogant sound that drove you crazy. “That’s not what you were saying five minutes ago.”

You shot him a glare, shoving at his chest again, harder this time. “I’m serious, Rafe. Move.”

Reluctantly, he let go, stepping back just enough for you to slide off the locker and onto shaky legs. You stumbled a bit, and Rafe’s hand shot out to steady you, but you jerked away from him, pulling your jeans back up with shaky hands.

He leaned against the locker, smirking like he hadn’t just torn your world apart all over again. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You wanted to scream at him, to throw something at his face. But instead, you grabbed your shirt off the floor, yanking it over your head as you tried to steady your breath.

“Good luck finding your date.”

Elijah. You’d come to the game with Elijah.

You shook your head as you zipped up your jeans and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to look somewhat presentable. You avoided looking at him, knowing that if you did, you’d see the smug satisfaction on his face that would only make you feel worse.

He pushed himself off the locker and took a step closer to you. You flinched, stepping back instinctively. “This can’t happen again.”

His smirk slipped for a moment as he looked at you. H e closed the distance between you in two strides, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist, pulling you toward him before you could react, “You’re choosing him?”

You yanked your wrist out of his grip, your heart racing as you forced yourself to take a step back, putting distance between the two of you, “You’re the one who chose yourself.”

His eyes darkened, searching your face, like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. Maybe he thought he still had you wrapped around his finger.

“You’re the one who walked away,” you added, hating how your voice trembled, “So don’t act like I owe you anything.”

Rafe’s hand hovered like he was about to reach for you again, but he didn’t. “That’s not how I remember it.” 

Your stomach twisted, “I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t—” You glanced at the door, feeling the weight of Elijah waiting for you. The one person who was good for you, who actually wanted to be with you.

But the worst part? You were still thinking about Rafe. Even after everything, you were still here, breathless, a mess because of him.

He took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours, and for a second, you thought he might apologize. Maybe say something real. But Rafe Cameron didn’t do apologies. 

He raised an eyebrow, “Really?” His hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face in a gesture that was far too intimate, given everything that had just happened. “Then why are you still standing here?”

You flinched, stepping back. Why were you still standing there? You had no good answer, at least not one you were ready to admit.

“Go back to your date,” Rafe continued, his voice mocking now, “Pretend like he’s enough for you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep the tears at bay. You couldn’t give him that satisfaction, not again. “You’re wrong.”

Rafe let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I don’t think I am.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, throat tight, trying to push back the tears. This was all wrong. It was always wrong with Rafe, “Stop.”

It sounded like a plea—a plea for him to stop talking, stop looking at you like that, stop making you feel so small and yet so overwhelmed all at once.

Rafe sighed, stepping back just a fraction, and for a second, his gaze lifted. But it wasn’t enough. It never was. “I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said, his voice softer now, like that made a difference.

“You always do,” you shot back, finally meeting his eyes. The truth slipped out before you could stop it, and there it was.

His jaw clenched, "I don’t mean to," he muttered, his voice low. "You know that."

"Does it even matter?" You felt the bitterness rise in your throat, along with something else—something fragile and painful. "You still do it. Whether you mean to or not."

Rafe stayed quiet, and you hated that silence. He didn’t have an answer. He never did, not for this. Your fingers fumbled with the zipper of your jacket, something to keep your hands busy so you wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t say something you’d regret. But regret was already everywhere, suffocating you both.

“I thought we were past this,” you said finally, barely more than a whisper. “I thought I was past this.” But clearly, you weren’t. Clearly, some part of you was still here, with him, in the wreckage you’d both created.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated, torn. “It’s not that simple.”

"It should be." Your voice cracked. You hated how much this hurt. How much he could still hurt you.

It wasn’t fair. You weren’t supposed to still care this much. You weren’t supposed to still feel this.

Rafe sighed, taking another step back, giving you space. But it wasn’t the kind of space you wanted. It wasn’t the kind that would make things easier. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he admitted quietly, his eyes searching yours for something he couldn’t find.

You swallowed, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. "I don’t want anything from you." 

That was the truth, or at least it was supposed to be. You didn’t want anything he had to offer, not anymore. Not when every time you reached for it, it slipped through your fingers like water, leaving you emptier than before.

But there was still that ache, that feeling between you two, the one that dragged you back here even when you knew better. You wished you could kill it, cut it out of you like some infected part, but it was tangled too deep. And maybe a small part of you didn’t want to.

“You keep saying that,” he murmured, his voice almost tender, like he was seeing right through you. “But you’re still here.”

“I don’t know why,” you whispered, blinking back tears. Fuck, you hated this. Hated how vulnerable you felt, how easily he could unravel you, even now. “I shouldn’t be.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, watching you, like he was waiting for you to make the next move. Like he wanted you to figure it out on your own.

But you didn’t know how. You never did when it came to him.

"I’m sorry," he said, and this time, it felt real. There was no arrogance. Just Rafe, standing there, as broken as you felt. "I don’t know how to fix this."

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “There’s nothing left to fix, Rafe. We’ve already destroyed it.”

His face twisted, like he didn’t want to believe it. Like he was still holding onto some small piece of hope. "We could—"

"No," you cut him off, shaking your head. "We can’t."

You couldn’t keep doing this. The push and pull, the endless cycle of hurt and apologies that never really fixed anything. You couldn’t keep pretending that something would change, that he would change.

Because you both knew he wouldn’t.

He took a breath, exhaling slowly, and you could see it—the realization sinking in. 

He knew it too. "I never wanted to lose you," he admitted quietly.

You swallowed hard, your chest tight. "You already did."

[themanwhowouldbefruit]

my doctor was sooooo fucking worthless and unhelpful im going to masturbate and i hope it fucking kills me

[chemicalarospec]

.

[witherbythesword]

and I feel the oral fixation being so so strong in this chilli's tonight.

[alagaisia]

This is something I learned at one of the pre-op visits for my breast reduction! My surgeon was basically I think an independent surgeon (as I guess I would imagine is common for “cosmetic”/plastic surgeons?) and she was telling us a little bit about what to do for talking to insurance about the surgery and stuff, and she mentioned that for us going through insurance it would be at a particular hospital, but she also often did surgeries where people didn’t use there insurance, and she did those at some other place, and the price she charged up front was much lower, because that was the actual cost of the surgery (and equipment and everyone’s salaries etc.) and she had to raise the ticket price significantly when people would go through insurance, because the insurance company would negotiate that price down, and then keep some of the money. (Obviously for us and many others it still worked out to be cheaper for us out of pocket to go through insurance, but the amount she made was roughly the same even though it would look like she charged thousands more for my breast reduction than for someone not using insurance)

So, when you get those bills from your insurance after a doctors visit, and there’s that little table that tells you, this is the cost of the visit, this is the discount we got you, this is how much we paid, this is how much you still have to pay?

That line about “we got you this discount” is misleading. They actually caused the provider to raise the initial cost of your care by that amount, or more, in anticipation of the insurance company refusing to pay the full amount so that they could tell you they got you a discount.

"Why does a 15-minute visit with a doctor cost 150 bucks in America???" you're gonna want to read Money-Driven Medicine, by Maggie Mahar, and probably also The Social Transformation of American Medicine, to answer that question. It is not because your doctor is a greedy bastard; your doctor does not see most of that money. It is because the system is broken to a level that is truly impressive in its dedication to making a shit ton of money for insurance company executives and shareholders.

[vamptastic]

I always thought of diabetes as a thing you either Have or Don't but I looked into it a bit and man I was like extremely close to being diabetic before medication and literally follow the same treatment as type 2 diabetics (metformin and blood sugar monitoring). Hell if I had another blood test before starting the meds I may have been considered diabetic medically. Anyway I had the worst blood sugar crash of my Fucking Life tonight and had do the test it, drink orange juice, test again to be able to go to bed safely and it all just sucks. I don't want to deal with this happening for the rest of my life.

[paperclip-skz]

Not Drinking For a Fun Time

fem*Reader x Bang Chan

*WARNING*

contains: p n v, sex, unprotected sex, kissing, TENSION, straight up delulu, grinding, oral (fem receiving), I'm sure I missed something; let me know in the comments.

WC: 8.7k

a/n: not gonna lie, I'm super nervous because this is my first ever "long fic" that I'm posting and I'm not sure how ya'll will react. This started out as a fluff story and we only meant to be a couple hundred words or so...and then it escalated. Also, my requests are open so if you have an idea and want me to play it out please do not be afraid to send me an ask, I'll pretty much anything fluff, scenario....the dirtier the better hehe

Synopsis: “I’m not a performer, and I’m not a singer. I can’t entertain people. What makes you think I can lie to them?” … this was the goal. Lie to the public about a relationship between you and Chris, but there was no relationship

***** 

You're at the bar. Sulking. Wishing you were at home but longing for another drink. Your day couldn’t be worse, from the emotional rollercoaster you’ve been on to all the little things that ticked you off in the worst ways. 

The bartender rests another glass in front of you, the cold liquid reflecting the bar's dim light. “On the house,” he gestures to the drink. You nod your head in thanks and lazily grab the drink. You’ve already had enough to make your mind foggy, but not foggy enough. The events of today keep replaying in your head. 

“You’ll need to cooperate with us, Ms.L/N.” The shock is evident in not only your face but your tone as well. 

“Cooperate? You're asking me to be someone that I’m not.” Your chest heaves with anger, and your mind runs miles with adrenaline. 

“Y/N, please,” Chris coos. You whip your head around to meet the leader's and the group's defeated eyes. They have their heads hung low, still trying to process the information given in the meeting. 

“I’m not a performer, and I’m not a singer. I can’t entertain people. What makes you think I can lie to them?” … this was the goal. Lie to the public about a relationship between you and Chris, but there was no relationship. In fact, you didn’t know any of the members from Stray Kids. 

You didn’t know any of them until you started working in the same building as them. You’d pass them by in the halls, nodding in acknowledgment. One day, you were just off, stressed from all the work and frustrated that nothing was working. 

Chris noticed and asked if you were okay, being the amazing person he is. His comfort eased your stress, but anyone from afar could have mistaken his comfort for something else. The next thing you knew, pictures of you and Chris were plastered on every face of social media. Hell, you were even on the news.

Everyone was terrified that the public would react negatively and you wouldn’t be allowed to step a foot out of your own house, but it was the opposite. People swooned over your fake relationship and the idea that Chris had found someone that made him happy, but none of that was true. 

The sting of the liquid slides down your throat, and the bitter aftertaste makes your face scrunch. However, the foggy effects of the drink quickly fade your feelings. You notice a few snickers behind you, a pair of girls whispering and staring holes into the back of your head. You ignore them as much as possible while taking another small sip of your drink. 

Am I being overdramatic? Should I just go with what they are saying? People already think so, anyway. Thoughts cloud your mind, and you're entirely oblivious to the man who sneakily slides into the stool next to you. You turn your eyes to him and notice the ball cap that covers his face and the oversized black hoodie that hugs his body casually. 

He lifts his head to meet your eyes, and you're welcomed with soft brown eyes. You sigh…and groan simultaneously, taking another sip of your drink. “I’m not drinking for a fun time, Mr. Bahng.” 

“Then I’m not either.” he raises his finger, indicating a bottle. The bartender quickly sets a bottle of Soju on the counter along with a shot glass. 

You both sit there in silence as Chris pours a single shot. He swings his head back, taking the shot with ease. 

“What are you doing here Bahng?” your voice mimics defeat. 

“Drinking,” his voice is anything but defeat or sympathy. In fact, it almost sounds… optimistic. Your blood boils. How is he not angry, confused, or at least unhappy with the situation? You look at him with disgust.

You scoff under your breath, paying attention back to your glass, “I can’t believe you.”

“Can’t believe what?” he questions.

“I can’t believe you have no reaction. I can’t believe you're not angry. They are asking for us to be in a fake relationship, and you're not the least bit affected,” you whisper, careful not to let anyone hear. 

“I am angry, but not in the way you think” he turned his body to you. “I’m angry that you're in this situation. You didn’t ask for this, but here we are.” 

“I don’t think I can do this.” You lean forward, caging your head in your hands. Tears are threatening to spill. I can’t lie to the world when I don’t even want this. I don’t want to lie. I want to be able to date and have fun, not be caged to some contract just because someone mistook comfort for something else. I can’t have people watch my every move, just waiting for me to make the simplest mistake. 

“Not by yourself, you can’t,” his words lift your head slowly, and your body hangs low in front of you. 

“I don’t even know you.”

“That will come with time. Look, I won’t force you into this; no one will. But you need to know that things have already escalated, and if we don’t do something soon, they will continue to escalate. Yes, this is a solution, a messy one, but a solution.” The earnestness in his eyes makes your heart warm and the tears swell. “And you need to know, you're not doing this alone. I might be a stranger, but I’m here, and the guys say I’m a pretty good listener.” his last comment makes you chuckle as a single tear escapes you, rolling down your cheek. Chris instinctively reaches his hand to catch the tear on your cheek; his thumb delicately wipes the salty liquid off your cheek. The touch is simple but sweet, and you hate the way his touch electrifies your whole body. Your eyes meet, gentle brown eyes and a deep dimple smile. 

Your heart fills with an unfamiliar warmth, but it's welcomed….slightly. Maybe this won’t be as bad as you might think. 

They did offer money, and there's a contract, so does the risk really outweigh the means? Your mind is fighting to keep up with what's morally right and what you want. What do you want? 

You do the one thing you’ve always done: count to three in your head, breathe a long, deep breath, and say the first thing that comes to mind. “Okay.” You stare into Chris’s eyes, pleading for him to understand your hesitance. “I’ll do it.” 

Chris breathes out a sigh of relief, and you can physically see his body relax on the stool. He takes out his hand, waiting for you to shake it. He gives you a look and raises his eyebrows. It makes you laugh, but regardless, you shake his hand. “Thank you, Y/N.” 

“No problem, Mr.Bahng,” you spin in your chair and back to your drink.

“Please, call me Chris,” he nudges your shoulder playfully. 

What could possibly go wrong? 

*******

3 weeks go by after you agreed to be in this fake relationship. A contract was signed, and rules were in place, but that didn’t stop your nerves from crawling all over your body. 

“Okay, run this by me one more time so that I understand completely.” 

Stray Kids' head of marketing sits comfortably at the end of the table, scanning you and Chris. 

You and Chris, it's hard to think about. Since you’ve both agreed to this, you’ve gotten closer and become close friends. It’s hard to imagine that you barely even knew each other weeks ago, but now, he’s your closest friend, closer than anyone else. 

“The press and fans love your relationship; it's actually boosting ratings. Ever since we announced your ‘relationship,’” she air quotes the word, “your fans have been more active.”

You don’t know how to feel; you're glad that the band is getting more attention, but you're also a little nervous. I mean, how long is this little ruse supposed to go on for? “Why do I feel like there is a ‘but’ coming?” 

“But, your fans are asking more and more questions. When did you meet? Are you two living together? How involved are you?” She directs each question to you as if you know all the answers. 

“So what can we do to ease the questions? Surely, no one can expect us to keep this up forever.” You’re thankful Chris can read your mind. 

The marketing head and everyone else in the room hold their breaths. The silence makes your heart thump and sink, “you are, aren't you?” The laugh that escapes you is humorless and breathy. “You are expecting us to keep this up, at least for as long as we can, until someone starts raising eyes, but even then, you’ll probably come up with some way to puppet us out of it.” 

Chris looks from you to the marketing head, waiting for someone to answer your accusation. “Well, is that true?” You’re both met with more silence, answering both of your questions. He scoffs next to you, joining you in your humorless acts.  “Well, what's your solution then?” 

There has to be a catch to all of this. “We suggest that you both…” she pauses, eyes screaming with concern, “start saying that you live together.” 

“Just start saying this publicly? That's all?” You wait for the answer to Chris’s question, but when their marketing professional meets your eye with a weary look, you already know it.

“No, they want us to live together and show it off,” you answer Chris before the head of marketing can speak. 

Chris is fuming beside you; this wasn’t a part of the deal, “But the contract-” 

“The contract states that both of you will keep up this act under any means necessary.” she pauses for a moment, “if the public sees that you are both happy and moving forward, there’s a very good possibility that they’ll be content and move onto another form of gossip. We need to show them that you're both just moving forward like a normal couple.” She tries to make sense of it, even though as you replay her words in your mind, they seem crazier and crazier. You and Chris share the same look of disapproval, but if they were right about this fake relationship, why wouldn’t they be right about anything else? “We just need to keep this act up until something better comes along,” she continues, directing her last comment directly at you, “I promise this will all be over soon. No idol can escape drama of some kind.”

You hang on desperately to her last words, which brings you here and now, moving the last box of your stuff into a small apartment the company paid for. At least you're not spending any real money on all this. You set your box down on the kitchen counter, clapping your hands. “Finally,” you breathe. 

You walk around the kitchen counter and into the living room. There's a large couch in the middle and two hallways on either side of the living room. One leads to Chris’s room and the other to yours. It's a small apartment, but it works for your situation. Chris had already moved his stuff into his room; you haven’t seen much of him. 

You saunter down the hall to your bedroom and collapse onto your bed. Suddenly, your phone starts to ring. You answer without looking at the caller ID, “Hi honey, how are you?”.

“Hey Ama, I’m good, how is Appa?” the smile reaches your ears as you talk endlessly with your mother. The second this whole thing started, the first thing you did was call your mother. Hearing her encouraging words made the whole ordeal a little less nerve-racking. You couldn’t lie to your mother, the rest of the world…maybe, but not her. 

After an hour, you hang up the phone with your mom, bidding her a goodnight. “Jesus, it's late.” You look out into the cold night sky, guessing you kind of lost track of time. 

You get up from your spot on your bed and hurriedly get dressed into your sleepwear until your stomach pains with the feeling of being empty. Hunger overwhelms you as you make your way out to the kitchen quietly. You're wearing an oversized sweater and shorts, with your hair up in a messy bun as you enter the kitchen to find Chris eating cereal. “Don’t tell me that’s your dinner.” 

“Hey! I will let you know that this is a perfectly normal late-night snack,” Chris says between mouthfuls. He’s wearing a black tank top, showing off his defined arms and grey sweatpants. It's so casual, but why does it make him look so hot? 

It makes you chuckle and shake your head, and you slowly make your way to the middle of the kitchen. 

The one word to describe the air in the room right now is awkward. What do you do? Do you act like he’s not there and just go about making food? Do you take a snack into your room and leave him be? Maybe he's hungry, but is asking to make him some food too much? 

Chris sees the gears turning in your head, “do you want something to eat?” He asks.

“Oh, Um. Yeah, but I’m not sure what to make just yet.” You fiddle with your sleeve.

“There's ramen in the cabinets and cereal in the other one. I’m not sure what's in the fridge, but I’m sure there's some fruit if you’d like.” You nod your head, thinking of what you're craving. “But we can always order something if you're craving something specific?” 

He’s so kind. It's the same kindness he showed that fateful day when someone mistook that kindness for something more intimate. You smile at the thought. “Fruit sounds good.” You walk over to the fridge and scan its contents. You settle on some strawberries, take the plastic box, and run it through the sink. You don’t know how hungry you really are, so instead of wasting a plate and taking it to your room, you settle on just plucking each strawberry out of the plastic container. 

*Chris* 

Chris watches as you wrap your plump lips around each strawberry; his mind spins with different ideas. He thinks of your lips wrapping around his finger, your tongue twirling around his digit. He thinks of his cock springing free and your hand pumping him to full length while your mouth hangs low in anticipation. He leans forward, guiding himself across your waiting tongue…

“So why are you up so late?” Your comment snaps him out of his fantasies. He tries to shuffle in his spot, making it seem casual when, in reality, his sweats have become uncomfortably tight. 

“I had some work I needed to finish, and then I got hungry.” he gestures to the now empty bowl, “How about you?” 

“I was on a call with my mom, lost track of time, and then got hungry.” You gesture to the strawberry in your hand and slowly wrap your lips around it. Chris looks down, trying not to stare, but then he swallows a groan when he sneaks a glimpse of your bare legs. Shorts. She’s just wearing shorts. Get a hold of yourself. 

Chris needs to think of something to divert the conversation. It's too awkward right now, and it's not helping when all he can think about is ripping your shorts off. 

“Ho-”

‘Yo-”

You both speak at the same time. Clearly, you are both trying to make the whole thing a little more comfortable. Both of you chuckle at the realization. 

“I really hope we can make this whole thing a little less awkward,” Chris says as you start packing the rest of the strawberries and putting the stems in the nearby trash can. 

“Me too,” you sigh.

“We’re friends! The only show we have to put on is for the camera”

******

This was a shit idea. He can’t eat, he can’t sleep, he can’t function without a single thought leading back to you. And this “ruse” is going on for way too long. 

It's been 3 months. 3 whole months! 

But Chris couldn’t lie—it's been the best three months. You’ve both gotten so comfortable with each other that you’ve dedicated Fridays to movie night. Chris will sometimes bring your coffee order to you just because he knows you’d appreciate it, even if he doesn’t drink coffee himself. 

You’ve gotten to know each other so well and laughed so hard together that it just feels natural. 

He can’t help it. Even before this whole thing happened, he’d always watched you from afar, admired how hard you worked and how beautiful you were. But it was always that—a distant crush. 

Until this whole ordeal just planted itself right in his lap. He had to get close to you and take a chance with you. He didn’t care if it was fake. It was a chance. 

But tonight, he was cursing at himself for ever agreeing to this deal in the first place. 

It had been three months, so the public was starting to ask questions about when they were going to see you at an event…together. So, the marketing team decided that a red carpet-event was the perfect time to show you off to the public. 

Just a few pictures, maybe some conversations, but that's it. Then we’ll both be home, and we can just watch a movie. At least, that's what he thought. 

You both got ready separately because Chris had an interview an hour before the event. He was waiting by the front for your car to pull forward, and that's when you stepped out. 

His eyes widened, and his breath literally caught in his throat. Your dress was long and elegant, with one strap hanging loosely on your shoulder while the other was bare. It hugged your hips tightly to accentuate your best features. The slit was high, a little higher than you’d prefer, but it matched the theme of the dark red dress. The back of the dress was bare and reached down just before the curve of your ass. 

Chris took a long, low breath, trying to control the fighting urge inside him. He was staring at the way the dress flowed with every step you took; it was like you were walking on water with how graceful each heel clicked. 

“What?” 

He took his eyes off your legs and up to your doe eyes, which were smoky. It makes your eyes bright and glow. 

“N-nothing. I-” It was hard for him to form words. He knew you were beautiful; he thought about it every day, but he never saw you like this. He always saw you in either comfy clothes or your work clothes, never this. “You look beautiful.” 

He could see the natural blush from underneath your makeup, and he melted at the sight of your smile. 

“Shall we?” Chris held out his arm.

“We shall.” You took his arm, and he walked you inside the event. 

Easy peasy.

***

There were endless flashes and pictures, and reporters were screaming from one side to the other. You and Chris were being pulled from one background to another, everyone begging to get a picture of the happy couple. If only they knew. 

Chris was holding the middle of your back, smiling widely at each camera. Your body shivered from his touch. Surely he could feel the goosebumps across your skin. If he did, he didn’t let you know. His previous comment lingered in your mind, and it made your body warm with affection. 

He’s wearing a tailored black suit with just the jacket. It was styled so that he didn’t need a shirt to complement the jacket. It was high enough to cover everything but low enough to show his muscular chest. He stole your breath away—there's no better way to put it. 

His hold on you could be seen as endearing to the public eye, but you knew his tight hold felt different. It felt possessive. As he guided you from one area to another, his touch became more apparent to you. You could map out the roughness of the pads of his fingers, the feeling of the cold metal from his accessories, and how his palm rested fully on your skin. 

It sent tingles through your body, tingles you haven't felt in a while. 

At one point, he guided you to another photographer. Your smile falters, the exhaustion getting to you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Chris turn his head to look at you, studying you. You couldn’t see if he was smiling. All you could tell was that he was looking at you. The photographers must be eating this up. 

You focused on trying to keep your smile up until you felt the tip of Chris's finger tilt your chin in his direction. Your eyes meet, and your smile immediately fades. Thinking you did something wrong, you search his eyes, but all you see is warmth. Your worry fades, your lips part, and your mind goes blank. The noise of the photographer fades, the tightness of the dress disappears, and every little thing is gone, the only thing you can hear, see, and breathe is Chris. 

His eyes wander from you to your lips and back to your eyes, secretly asking for permission. It's for the camera. You tilt in your head, begging for him to lean in. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as Chris slowly leans in to graze his lips across yours. He presses a little hard to envelop your lips. His tongue slips across your bottom lip, and his hand on your back itches to touch you more. 

Loud cheers ultimately break up your little moment, and Chris quickly separates his lips from yours. The party mask slips back into action when his dimple smile appears and flashes towards the camera. 

A few more pictures and smiles and Chris quietly guides you out of the red carpet area—the feeling of his soft lips on your own leaves a tattooed memory in your brain. Finally, you and Chris are inside the elegant building. Art decorates each wall, and people mingle around, admiring the work of the artist, sharing conversations, and enjoying the drinks floating around by the staff. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped. I thought maybe it would be a good idea for the camera.” Chris is quick to answer any accusation that you didn’t have prepared. 

“Oh, yeah, you're right. It was a good move.” You try to seem calm and cool about what just happened. I mean, you are cool with what he did; you just wish it lasted longer. “For the camera.” 

“For the camera” the last few words come out breathy and soft by the both of you, not sure if either of you truly means it. 

“Chris!” shouts of his name come from afar, and you recognize the familiar faces. “Guys!” Chris gives his members a big hug, leaving you to follow close behind. You remember the ones who are here: Hyunjin, Minho, and Felix, all gather to greet Chris. 

You leave them to get caught up, knowing they’ve missed seeing each other. A waiter comes by, offering you a drink, and you take it with grace. You know there will be a driver taking you home tonight, so why not have a few drinks? You wander around, enjoying the sight of the beautiful art. 

Colors and interesting figures decorate each canvas. You read each name and study the painting, wanting to understand exactly what the artist was feeling when creating each masterpiece. 

You stop at a particular painting of a woman. She's surrounded by different shades of black and white, her body covered by just a sheet of cloth. Her bare shoulder and the side of her face are turned away from the view of the audience, seeming like she is trying to hide her naked figure. The cloth in question is splattered with all different shades of red. You examine the title of the piece, “Hidden Lust.”

“Interesting painting?” A voice startles you from behind. Chris stands behind you, examining the painting with you. 

You smile, returning to the painting. “How are the boys?”

“They’re good; they asked about you.” A smirk plays on his lips as he studies the painting alongside you. 

You hum and examine the brittle strokes of the painting. You both stand there in silence, admiring each delicate brush of paint. 

Once you hear Chris's steady breathing, all concentration on the painting goes out the window. You can practically feel it on your skin, sending tingles straight to your core. You and Chris stand a mere few inches apart, your hands twitching to touch. 

All thoughts of how the artist could be portrayed in the painting have left your mind; the only thing that haunts your mind is the feeling of Chris’s lips on yours. The fainted memory still makes your skin tingle and your core pound with need. Suddenly the breath you have been holding releases with a long sigh, and you can see Chris suck in a breath. 

Slowly, your head turns in his direction, and Chris does the same. You both hold eye contact for what feels like forever, silently sending each other hidden messages. The air between you is so thick it becomes hard to breathe. Your eyes dart down onto his lips, retaining the memory once again, imagining what his lips would feel like if they were placed on other parts of your body. 

“There’s the lucky couple!” your moment is broken once again, and Chris is left to greet more flooding guests. Once again, you're left to wander the walls…alone. 

***

Where did she go? He’s been roaming around this building for what feels like hours. If he wasn’t stopped every five minutes, maybe he could find you. 

It's not until he sees the dark, silky color of your dress he finally releases the breath he’s been holding. 

You're walking away from a painting and venturing off into another room filled with more art. He couldn't care less about the pieces hanging on the walls. He keeps thinking about that kiss. 

It was meant to be quick, and he meant to slide his thumb right between the two of you so that your lips wouldn’t touch. But the moment was too quick, and the camera was too bright, and before he knew it, your lips were touching. It was like kissing a flower petal, light and soft, and he craved more. He wanted to kiss you so that you would kiss back with the same passion he felt inside, but he couldn’t do that now, not when everyone was watching. He would take what he could get, even if it was just a small, simple kiss. 

Leaving the cameras, he could see the confusion on your face, and worry settled in the pit of his stomach. He shouldn’t have done that, not without asking you first, not with cameras taking pictures of your every move, not when the whole world was watching. That's why he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. 

I’m such an idiot, he thought to himself. 

Calm and frantic battle in his body with each step he takes to you. This room is filled with sculptures on every corner, and smaller paintings hang. The last few people leave the room so that it's just you and Chris. He sees you studying a sculpture of two people holding each other in an embrace. The two mold together with a shared kiss, and what looks to be water made of stone surrounds them. It's quite beautiful, but the person looking at the art piece is even more stunning. His mind screams with the need to feel your lips on his once again, but he forces himself to stand next to you in silence, pretending as if he cares about the art piece in front of him. 

“I’m sorry I keep getting pulled away.” He whispers as he slides next to you. 

“No need to apologize; you're famous, and people want to meet you.” He can tell you’re holding something back. He’s only known you for a few months, but it feels like years to him. 

“Still, I came here with you. I should be at least spending some time with you,” he can’t help but look at you, at the way your features react to his words, the way your chest rises and falls as you breathe, and the way your nails pick at each other. You're holding something back, and it's killing him inside. “Did I-... Did I make you uncomfortable… with that kiss?”

His question physically takes you aback. He's trying to read you, trying to predict what you’ll say next. Everything runs through his mind: you slapping him, you yelling at him, you kissing him-

“No, of course not.” Chris breathes out a sigh. “It's just-” your eyes wander, and his body stiffens…again. “I-” you attempt to say something, “...nothing,” but your mouth shuts, and your attention is back on the sculpture. 

Knowing he didn’t make you uncomfortable eases him, but not knowing what's on your mind makes his mind wander. If he didn’t make you uncomfortable, what could possibly be going on in that pretty head of yours?

“Y/N” Chris grabs hold of your arms to turn you to face him. “Please, tell me what's on your mind, or else I might lose mine.”

You suck in a breath and open your mouth to say something. “I just…” your eyes wander once again, but Chris quickly takes his other hand to caress his thumb over your jaw, bringing your attention back onto him. “I just really want-”

“Bahng! There you are!” a tall man with spikey black hair holds his arms out. His suit blinds the both of you as his sequined suit sparkles in the light.

“Oh my god, I’m going to end up in jail tonight if we don’t get out of here soon.” his comment makes you laugh, and his body melts at the sound. 

I can’t wait till I finally get you alone. 

*****

Hours later, you are finally home, out of that tight dress, and your hair is free. You're relaxing on the couch, watching as the rain carelessly falls out the window. You thought a nice cup of tea would help the cloud of thoughts in your mind, and then you thought the rain would help, but so far, nothing has helped. 

The way Chris spoke earlier replays in your mind like a constant dream. The way he touched you, the way his eyes bored into your soul. You were so close to confessing that you wanted more than just a simple kiss; he made you want more of him. 

Now you're here, dreading if he walks out here and the awkwardness is back up. You both worked so hard to become comfortable with each other, and you don’t want that awkward tension to fill the room again. 

You hear the door creak open, signaling that Chris is out of the shower. He comes out in a pair of sweats and a loose shirt, rubbing a towel over his drenched hair. 

“You’re still up,” he says surprised. 

“Yeah, can’t sleep. Must be leftover adrenaline from tonight.” that's a lie. It's because stupid Chris won't stay out of your stupid mind. 

He nods his head, and you go back to staring blankly out the window. Thick silence, so thick it could be cut with a knife. You could feel the nerve on the end of your skin, and you pray that Chris doesn’t notice. 

“Back at the gala, you were about to say something.” 

You whip your head around, seeming dumbfounded. “Oh, I-” How do I get out of this? “I don’t remember” 

He slumps, looking defeated. “Oh, I see.” The pout on his lips makes your insides turn and ache. What did he want to hear?

“Do you…want to watch a movie?” his innocent question makes you smile. “Sure, I'd like that.” 

***

This was pointless. It's not like you’re actually paying attention to the movie. Your mind is clouded with doubts and thoughts, and Chris just sits there, enjoying the mindless action movie you guys agreed on. 

He’s so focused on what's playing on the screen. His lips are slightly parted, his eyes glow with every loud explosion, and his brows furrow every time a character takes a hit. It’s fun to study him, it's more entertaining than this damn movie….I wonder if all he’s thinking is about the movie.

***

Why the fuck does she keep looking at me? Do I have something on my face? Maybe she can see right through me and tell that I’ve been thinking about her? Can girls do that?

It is taking every bit of will he has left in his body for Chris to keep looking at this damn movie. He stopped paying attention halfway through it because he got a glimpse of your bare thigh. You're wearing shorts again, and it might actually kill him this time. God, he wants to touch you so badly. He wants to rake his hands through your thighs. He wants you to pull his hair and guide him over your body. He wants you to show him what makes you scream, and then he wants to make you scream his name-

“Do you know what's going on? Because I think I’m lost.” 

Chris snaps his head in your direction…shit.

“Uhh…well…you see the guy he… yea, I haven’t really been paying that much attention,” he breathes out a sigh of defeat. 

“Really! You looked like you were really paying attention.” if only you knew. “I guess I just kind of zoned out,” he scratches the back of his head, suddenly feeling embarrassed. 

“What were you thinking about?” your voice sounds so hopeful, but he can’t stop thinking about you running out of the apartment the second he confesses. 

“Oh…nothing” 

“Oh,” you went from hopeful to disappointment with a single word, and it made his chest ache. You both sit in silence for a beat too long, watching the movie unfold before you. 

He can’t bear the silence. It feels like that first week all over again, and it's killing him inside. “Looks like the storm is passing pretty quickly.”

Your head snaps to him with a quirked eyebrow. You stare at his unphased face for what feels like an eternity…then…The room fills with your laughter. “You want to talk about the weather?”

“Uhh”

More sounds of laughter crowd the room. “What?” he's in utter shock. What could possibly be so funny right now?

“Nothing. Yes, it does look like it's dying down,” but it’s laced with sarcasm; anyone can hear it, Chris, most of all. 

His hooded eyes look down at you with a ‘serious’ look. “What?” Your hands are thrown up in surrender. 

“Nothing,” he matches with the same tone.

He’s met with your giggles. The light shift of the mood makes his smile wide, and finally, he’s at ease. Finally, you smile again, and the awkward tension dissipates. 

Your body stretches in a long yawn, and in doing so, it inches closer to Chris. Over time, your head falls onto Chris’s shoulder, relaxing into his warmth. 

Chris’s body is on fire. Every nerve and sense is hyper-aware of your every move; it's like he can feel you without the barrier of his clothes. 

His eyes look down, watching you rest in his comfort. He feels like a teenager again, experiencing his first crush. He can feel butterflies in his stomach, and his palms begin to sweat. No one has ever made him feel this nervous.

Your shirt dips down just below the swell of your breasts, and he curses at himself for even looking. He hates the fact that your body has so much control over him, but he loves it at the same time. He thinks about all the ways your body could torture him. Your body wrapped in fragile lingerie that he could rip with his teeth, your naked body underneath him, fully exposed for him-

“Oh my god.” 

You’re both startled apart from each other. Chris only takes a minute to follow your shocked eyes down to the prominent tent forming at his pants. 

Shit.

“I- um,” Chris scrambles to find a pillow or blanket to cover his bulge. How could this happen now of all times? He expects to hear your screams, your words of disgust, or something that results in him leaving the apartment with his head hung low in shame. But more laughter echoes around the room, and he sees you turned over, holding your belly with giggles.  

“I would apologize, but it looks like you're enjoying my embarrassment.” 

“It's not that,” your voice cracks with laughs. “I just was surprised. I know you can’t control it.” more laughter fills the room. If only you weren’t laughing at his embarrassment, he would actually enjoy hearing your giggles. 

“I have more control than that,” Chris scoffs. 

“Then what is it?” You look at him, your smile still shining, while his fades. This is his chance; it's now or never. You could either lock yourself in your room, and he could never see you again, or he could be the happiest man alive. 

He takes a deep breath. “I was thinking about…our kiss”. 

***

You wish you could say you had an immediate reaction, that you jumped into his arms the second he mentioned you, but you were dumbstruck. Your eyes were shot, and your lips parted in a silent gasp. 

“I guess it was a good kiss.” Chris shrugged, his smile mimicking a quiet laugh. 

“It was.” You recall the memory, and instinctively, you wet your lips. Chris holds your gaze, not letting you run or cower away again. 

The two of you are engaged in a silent battle, each waiting for the other to give in and address the unspoken tension between you. However, you refuse to be the first to make a move, unwilling to risk misinterpreting the situation.

Your breathing becomes shallow and heavy, “I should go to bed,” but you have no intention of moving. Rather than moving, you stay perfectly still, gazing at Chris, shifting your gaze from his eyes to his lips.

Chris inches closer, leaning into you. “Tell me you feel nothing, and I will walk away.” 

Another moment of silence settles in the air. His espresso eyes contrast with his pale skin, entrapping you, unable to move, speak, or breathe. His hand comes up to caress your cheek and moves a strand of hair away from your face. “Tell me you don’t feel what I feel,” he says.

Your breath is thick and trapped, and words never make it past your lips. All you can do is communicate with your eyes and beg for him to understand your silence. “I need you to tell me, baby”.

Already breathy and chest heaving with need, you nod your head rapidly and stutter out a “yes.” 

Within seconds, Chris's lips are on yours. It's nothing like the previous kiss you shared; this one is hungry, desperate, and has shallow breaths stolen when your lips part but immediately back as if they have been deprived and starved.  

His hands cup your face, deepening the kiss. You can feel his tongue silently ask permission, sliding along your bottom lip. You steal another breath, which Chris takes as an opportunity to push his tongue past the barrier of your lips. He swallows your pleasurable moans as your hands tug and pull him closer to your body. 

Heat radiates off of him like lust steaming off his body, and you can feel his muscles tense when you rake your hands over his clothes, begging him to remove his shirt.

Chris uses his body weight to push your back flat against the couch; he lodges his leg between your thighs, spreading your legs and pressing against your core. The sudden tension makes you groan into Chris’s mouth, which he devours.  

He keeps the tension on your core, slightly rubbing his thigh against it every now and again. When his hands move down, one to grasp you by your hip and another to fondle your breast is when you separate your lips to release the sudden gasp, all the while, you arch your back.

His grip on your hip tightens, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” his words rasp into your ear, sending shockwaves down every nerve in your body.  

His hands hold you close to his body, and all the while, his eyes wander. Words blend into moans and whimpers as Chris keeps your burning core stimulated with his thigh. “How do you want it, baby?” His voice buzzes in your ear, and it shoots straight to your gut, making you needy and excited for more. 

“Tell me what you want.” your hands shoot into Chris’s hair, tugging and angling his head so you can kiss him again. You just want him, all of him. With your tongue plunged into his mouth, you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. His thigh moves so his hips join with yours, pushing his growing bulge against your thumping core.

Your lips part and open to say something, but Chris adds more pressure to his hips, pushing his erection against you. What you were going to say dies on your tongue, and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. “I want you so bad,” he growls, hiding his rosy cheeks in the crook of your neck. His hips find a slow rhythm, grinding both your clothed cores against each other. 

“Chris,” you moan his name, and you can feel his groin twitch against his pants. Your positive Chris can smell your arousal dripping from you. The wet spot thats gathered at the base of your panties is evidence of it. 

“Please,” you whimper, desperate for more of him. He hums in your shoulder before biting the flesh. The sudden pain causes your face to contort, but it quickly subsides as you feel Chris’s tongue soothing the mark, leaving a beautiful love bite behind.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that, fuck, that’s hot” Your mind is fuzzy with how Chris is grinding his erection into you. 

Without warning, Chris pulls his body up, only to crawl down between your legs. He makes quick work of ridding your lower clothing. Leaving you bare in front of him. Your pussy clenches from his intense stare, and your face heats when he realizes it. “What? Do I make you nervous when I stare?”

You can feel the heat of his breath against your folds. It makes you clench around nothing…and he smirks at the sight. 

Chris starts to kiss your thighs, inching closer to your dripping pussy. Finally, relief washes over you as Chris wets your lips with his tongue. Your hand goes back into Chris’s hair, tugging him closer. 

You bite your lip, trying to keep your moans quiet as his wet muscle swirls around your swollen bundle of nerves. You hold back your screams of pleasure, not willing just yet to let him hear you. 

“Are you holding back?” Chris peaks up from between your legs. Your hips follow him, begging for him to continue. You both meet eyes, and he can tell you’ve been holding back your screams from him. “Don’t. I want to hear you. I want the neighbors to know my name,” and with that, he dives back between your legs, attacking your clit like there is no tomorrow. 

You scream his name in pleasure, grinding your hips onto him. Chris works in tandem in sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue inside your walls. 

Within minutes your coating his chin with your juices and moaning at the relief in your body. Your orgasm washes over you, but that doesn’t stop Chris. He loves the way your pussy tastes. The sweetness he can feel on his tongue electrifies his whole body. 

“Chris, I- ahg -wait, I can’t” Chris keeps his previous pace, sucking your clit and looping his tongue inside your folds. 

“Come for me, baby. You’ve done so well.” Chris slides his middle finger past your wet folds, curling it up so it hits the gummy spot that makes you see stars. Your legs begin to shake, and your whole body convulses at the added feeling. 

“Chris!” you scream his name as your second orgasm squirts onto his shirt. Your legs shut close, and Chris removes himself from between them. He jumps up to kiss your forehead and lips gently. “You did so well for me, baby. I’ve got you,” he coos softly. 

One of his hands rubs soft circles on your hips, biding them open again. The ache of overstimulation subsides and your legs begin to open again. Chris kisses your forehead gently one last time, a smirk clear on his face. 

 Lost in lust, you tug off his shirt, revealing his chiseled abs and defined body. Your eyes go wide, but Chris takes your lips in a hurried kiss. You rake your hand down his pecks to his abs, stopping just before where his V-line meets the button of his pants. You break the kiss to find that his face is contorted to what looks like pain. Worry shoots through you, but Chris snaps his eyes open and cages you below him, his arms on either side of your head, “no one has ever touched me like that.” he breathes…” Do it again.”

***

You both tugged at each other, prying more clothes off your bodies and ending up in your current position. You straddling his lap, rubbing your bare cunt against his cock.

Logic and reason left your mind when Chris had you quivering over his tongue. “Y/N, shouldn’t we-” 

But you didn’t want to wait another second. You lifted your lips to guide your folds onto Chris’s waiting cock. You both groan at the pleasure. 

Immediately, you start swirling your hips, chasing that pleasure. “Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” you clenched at his words. You cling to his words. You hope those words are true, even after this night, after this whole contract thing is over. You don’t want this to end. You hug yourself close to his body, grasping his shoulders, and you can tell by the way he holds you close that he’s thinking the same thoughts as you. 

You lift your hips slowly only to let yourself settle back down onto his cock. You both relish the feeling, not wanting it to be over too soon; You set a measured pace. 

You can see the sweat trickle down Chris’s forehead. His hands claw the flesh of your ass, willing himself not to ram into you. The last thing he wants is for this to end too quickly, and he’ll be damned if he comes before you do. 

A mixture of moans and grunts fills the room. Your hips have a mind of their own as they begin to grind into him at a more steady pace. Your nails leave red marks on his shoulders, “I want to see you, want to watch you come,” Chris grunts out. 

Something within you snaps. You don’t know if it was his words or the growing knot twisting inside you, but with his words, you lift your hips and slam down onto his cock. You set a brutal pace, bousing on top of him. Chris grinds his teeth but wills his eyes open so he can watch your perfect tits bounce. 

You are both lost in the pleasure of each other, and both of you try to chase your release. Chris’s hands grip your waist like a vice, helping you lift your hips in tandem with his thrusts. 

“God, you feel so fucking good.” His thrusts become frantic, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix perfectly. With a few more final thrusts into you, you were coming undone onto his cock. Screaming his name and leaving scratch marks against his abs. 

His cock plunged desperately in and out of your spasming, creaming cunt, using your body shamelessly for his own euphoric release. The harsh sounds of skin slapping skin and shattered moans and muffled curses echoed off the walls as Chris pushed his cock into you and coated your inner walls white. 

You both stilled, with heavy and shaky breathing being the only forms of communication you could muster. 

You couldn’t move, could hardly breathe, and your mind was nothing but a pile of mush. It was once you opened your eyes and realized you had been moved, cleaned, and tucked into your own bed did you realize that you passed out in Chris’s arms. 

You expected to wake up in his arms, but he was nowhere to be seen. You were left in your own room, alone and cold. 

“Chris?” you called, hoping what you experienced wasn’t a dream, that it was real. It sure felt real. Your legs and pussy were still sore just thinking about it. 

Worry begins to settle in. What if you did imagine all of it? What if you're back to a feeling that's all too familiar, with uncomfortable tension that sends shivers down your spine and nights filled with longing for what could have been?

“Look who’s finally up.” You turned your head to your door frame, where Chris was holding a bag of food in one hand. 

You could feel your shoulders relax, “what, you didn’t think I dish you after one night, did you?” he came closer, setting the bag to the side. 

“No, just got me worried.” Chan comes brings his hand up to caress your cheek and you lean into his touch. 

*Chris*

You both knew what was coming. Now that the tension has spoken for itself, what does that mean for the both of you?

Chris sits himself on the edge of your bed, taking a breath for what he’s about to say, but you speak first. 

“What does this mean now? Is the contract still in place?” 

His ears perk up and his eyes widen. He wasn’t about to let you go, no now, not ever. “I’ll be honest. I like you… a lot.” a chuckle escapes him “and I don’t want this to be the end. But I also don’t want to push you, if you don’t want the same.-”

“I do” you interrupt him. Your cheeks flush with that pretty pink that makes him melt and your smile shines high which makes his chest fill with a warmth he’s never felt before. 

“You do?”

“I like you too, I wouldn’t have done what we did if I didn’t. And honestly, I could give two shits about the contract right now” you chuckle with him. 

“Then how about this…” he twists his body so he can comfortably face you and holds out his hand for you to shake, “a new contract, physically binding.” he smiles, but suddenly changes his tone to a more serious one, “I promise to make you laugh, I promise to piss the hell out of you, but make it up to you, to make you smile, to bug the hell out of you, and I promise that as long as I call you mine, I will love you with all of me.”

Your smile stretches miles and you shake his hand. With heartfelt sincerity, you speak, “I promise to always find ways to bring a smile to your face and fill the air with laughter. I promise to make mistakes, but find ways for you to forgive me, I also promise to love every part of you even the parts you may seem unlovable.” Your voice is so angelic as if it’s softly whispering into his ear. 

You both share a tender kiss, feeling the warmth of each other's embrace. As your lips meet, a rush of emotions overcomes you, and you find yourselves entwined in each other's arms. The soft touch of your partner's skin against yours creates an intimate and comforting atmosphere. As you lay in bed, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you wrapped in each other's love. In this moment, you both find solace in the knowledge that no matter what challenges life may present, you have each other to lean on.

[m0llygunn]

deathbed confessions (eddie munson x fem!reader one-shot)

summary: cold and flu season hits you hard but luckily you have your best friend eddie to take care of you. If the cold medicine makes you admit a few things... eddie sure isn't complaining.

contents: 18+, best friends to lovers, r is dramatically sick with a cold (talks about dying but it's just drama), fluff idk a/n: guys i am so sick help me i had to lay on the bathroom floor after braving a shower because i thought i was gonna die (but also i wrote this so maybe im ok) wc: 4.4k+

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Holy shit, did Halloween come early?” Eddie snickers from the door of your room.

All you can muster up is a low groan and that alone makes you feel like your head is on the brink of explosion. 

“Jesus, you’re really sick, huh?” he says with the huff of a laugh.

You answer with another groan. Yes. You are 'really sick'.

“Can I do something to help?” he replies, the first hint of empathy appearing in his voice.

“Put me out—” you interrupt yourself with a sniffle followed by a phlegmy cough. “—out of my misery.”

You were supposed to be seeing some double feature with Eddie tonight but yesterday, right before bed, you felt the slightest of tickles in your throat. By morning you were the living dead with everything from your big toe to your forehead aching in one way or another. You called Eddie and before you could even mention that you were sick, he knew from your stuffed up voice. 

No matter how many times you told him you’d be fine he was strangely insistent in checking on you at the very least. By the end of the call he’d quickly worn you down and you told him that he has the spare key and he can do whatever he wants but if he gets sick that's his fault— a little mean but arguing was the last thing you felt like doing.

From the time you hung up to now— which has only been a handful of hours, you’ve gotten substantially worse. Earth shatteringly worse. So terribly worse that the simple task of opening your eyes has been too much effort. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, and your lungs are just begging for salvation. That’s why when Eddie called twenty minutes ago letting you know he was on his way you told him no. It would have been wise if he listened to you but instead he replied ‘too bad’ and abruptly hung up the phone. 

Cut to twenty minutes later he was at your door, letting himself in. He was willingly walking into his very own death sentence. He clearly thought it was more of a joke than anything.

You hear Eddie’s tell-tale gait as he walks further into your room. You assume that he’s standing over your bed, maybe a hand on the back of his neck, maybe a hand on his hip. Mustering the efforts to confirm your suspicions would take too much of your very limited energy so you continuing laying in your bed, not doing as much as opening an eye.

You hear the ruffle of his hair and he definitely is rubbing the back of his neck as he gauges what to do. 

“So…do you want, like, medicine then?” he asks. 

“A gun,” you croak, earning a deep belly laugh from Eddie.

“At least your humour’s still intact, that’s good to know,” he says, sitting down on the edge of your bed.

You try to shuffle over to make room for him, but that effort alone makes you wince.

“Call an ambulance,” you whine, sniffling pathetically. 

“Really?” he asks, a genuine nervousness creeping into his voice. You feel his hand tug at the blanket you’ve cocooned yourself in, revealing your face for him to see. If you were more cognizant maybe you’d care about Eddie seeing you like this, but you’re too far gone to think about that. 

“No,” you answer, nodding your head up and down in contrast to your answer, earning a huff of relief from Eddie. 

The blanket slackens from his pull and the bed dips deeper as he leans in further to get a better look at you. Once again, if you were more cognizant you’d probably rather he didn’t, but you wouldn’t have the will to fight it anyways.

“Did you take anything?” he asks. 

“It’s been a few hours.”

“Did you eat?”

“Yeah, whipped up a quick 4 course meal earlier, michelin approved of course,” you mumble. You contemplate cracking an eye open to see his reaction but you don’t. 

“Right, so no food.” 

“No, surprisingly not that hungry when you’re on your deathbed,” you say, sniffling.

“Tell me you’ve at least had water,” he says and from his tone you know that he already knows the answer. 

“I had water until the bottle was empty, then I decided I’d rather succumb to death than get out of bed,”

“Funny, funny girl,” he says dryly, obviously not impressed by your answers. 

“Tombstone quote,” you say weakly, hoping that Eddie gets what you mean. He laughs softly and you consider that enough of a success. 

You hear the slightest bit of shuffling, not Eddie getting up but more like he’s looking around your room. Whatever state it’s in, you couldn’t even work up the courage to care. 

“Do you want a movie on or something?” he asks, breaking the lull in conversation. 

“Would you do that?” you ask, tilting your face towards him despite not opening your eyes. 

“Oh yeah. I’m giving you the mortally ill special— the deathbed works, if you will,” he says, and you can tell he’s smiling. You do your best to smile back but it’s weak and probably looks more like a grimace. 

You feel shuffling before the bed rises from Eddie standing.

“Okay, so I’m gonna get you medicine first. Then movie, food, and whatever else, deal?”

Your lower lip pouts out appreciatively for the boy you’ve called your best friend for forever now. If you weren’t deathly ill, you’d kiss him.

“Thank you, Eddie,” you whisper, voice getting caught in your throat for an entirely different reason than your cold this time. 

He mumbles back some version of ‘don’t worry about it’ before he’s off, leaving you in the quiet of your room with only your breathing, coughing, and sniffling breaking the silence. It’s barely a few minutes before you hear his footsteps and the edge of your bed dips again. 

“This is what you took right? The cold and flu medicine?”

“Mhm” you hum.

“You have nasal congestion?”

You sniffle loudly and nod.

“Right. Nasal pain, sinus congestion, and sinus pain?”

You hum again, catching onto the fact that he’s reading the symptoms off of the box. 

“Chest congestion?”

Weakly you swat your hand out trying to find Eddie. When you do, you give him the weakest of taps. “Too many questions,” you muster. 

“Well, I know you’re joking about dying but I don’t want to actually kill you,” he says. You hum again.

You hear him fumbling with the cardboard before fumbling with the plastic pill packaging.

“Do you wanna sit up?” he asks.

“I want to die,”

“Well you can’t do that so I’m gonna help you sit up, okay?”

Eddie starts tugging at the blanket and you let your weakened limbs go limp, undoubtedly making the task much harder for him but he doesn’t say anything. Eventually, he pulls you up by your underarms, propping you up against your headboard. 

When you feel his cool hands on your forehead, pushing your hair back and out of your face, you open your eyes for the first time since Eddie got here. 

“There she is,” he laughs lightly, still pushing back the disheveled mess that is your hair.

“Your hands feel nice,” you whisper, focusing on the coolness on your skin. Before you have a chance to really absorb the relief of his hands on your skin, he pulls away, grabbing for the water he had set down on your bedside table. 

“Yeah, you’re really hot,” he replies, passing the water to you.

“Tombstone quote,” you say, catching his eye, making him laugh again. With a shaky hand, you take the water.

“Funny and hot, that’s a killer deal.” He hands you the little cold and flu pill and you place it in your mouth, swallowing it down with small sips of the cold water that feels like ice going down your throat. 

You redirect your gaze to Eddie, “you’re gonna get sick, that’s the real killer here,” you say. 

“I’ll be fine,”

“You don’t want this cold, trust me,” you say, taking another sip of water before holding it out to Eddie. 

“I’ll be fine,” he repeats as he takes the water, putting it back on your bedside table. 

You nod. You appreciate Eddie’s help more than anything. Fending for yourself wasn’t exactly going so well— clearly.

“You had this with your other stuff, do you want it?” he asks, holding up the vicks vapor rub.

When you felt the cold coming on you went to the pharmacy and picked up a few things just in case. The vapor rub was on sale and you bought it on a whim but haven’t tried it yet.

“Do you think it really works?”

“Wayne used to put it on me, I guess it does?”

“Where do you put it?”

“On your chest or back,” he answers, looking at the fine print of the packaging. “Yeah, it says chest, throat, and back.”

You open your mouth to reply but instead feel the creeping up of the tickling in your throat. Turning the other way, you do your best to not cough all over Eddie. Sucking in a deep breath, you only trigger another cough that divulges into one of many coughing attacks that you’ve had today. When you’re finally done, you drop your head to the back of the headboard in defeat. 

“C’mon, let’s try it on your back for now,” he says, putting a hand on your shoulder encouraging you to lean forward. You move how he wants you without protest.

“I’m just gonna lift up your shirt a bit, okay?” he says, you nod but he pauses, fingers just barely slipping under the hem of your shirt.

“Eddie, with the way I’m feeling, you could see me butt ass naked right now and I could not care less,” you say. 

He snorts a laugh before his cool fingers trail up your spine giving you tingles that make you shiver. “Sorry,” he hums but you shake your head. His hand makes contact with your upper back, rubbing the ointment on your skin and it honestly feels incredibly soothing. Whether it’s the rub or the physical contact, you’re not sure, but you’re not questioning it either.

The noise that comes out of you could have been a moan had you not been congested. Instead it comes out like a low, stuffed up groan— not unlike a movie zombie. 

Eddie rubs a few more circles on your back before his hand travels back down your spine. 

“How’s that feel?” he asks, helping you sit back up straight.

“So fucking good and like I need you to rub my back like that again,” you say, resting your head back against the headboard. Maybe you put a little too much conviction in your words but that truly felt amazing.

The room is silent and you blink open your eyes to see Eddie holding the tub of rub in his hands, paused halfway through closing it. It takes a moment for him to look up at you but when he does, he smiles softly.

“What movie do you wanna watch?”

Had you not been distracted by your sickness, you might have noticed the faintness of a blush spreading across the tops of Eddie’s cheeks. Coughing and forcing air back into your lungs takes up every ounce of your consciousness though, so you don’t notice. 

You shrug your shoulder taking a deep breath, “anything, I’ll probably pass out from the medicine anyways,” you reply, turning away again to cough. 

Eddie hums before he’s moving to your dresser opposite your bed, angling the TV for you to see it better. 

“Sixteen Candles, Children of the Corn, Gremlins, Teen Wolf?” he says, listing off the titles of the different tapes you have sprawled next to the vcr. 

“Any.” 

“Gremlins seems kind of relevant,” he says, pulling open the clamshell box.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask. Eddie turns to you, smirk spreading across his lips.

“Nothing,” he sings lightly. He turns away from you, pushing the tape into the player and then pressing the combination of buttons to get it working. 

“You better not be implying that I look like a gremlin because—” you interrupt yourself with another cough that quickly divulges into yet another coughing fit— worse than the last. 

With each cough being so strong it makes your head pound. You don’t notice Eddie crossing your room or him settling back on the edge of your bed. You only notice his presence when he’s encouraging you forward, hand rubbing your back again. 

When your coughing finally calms down enough for you to take a good breath, Eddie brings the glass of water up for you to take a sip. You take the cup in your hands, guiding it to your mouth. At the same time, Eddie never fully lets go of the cup, making sure it doesn’t spill. You take a drink, nodding when you’re done and he sets it back down, hand still running up and down your back. 

“It’s probably just the rub working, getting all that nasty stuff out,” he says softly. 

You nod again, letting your head fall to rest on Eddie’s shoulder. It’s probably not the smartest idea to be so close to him because you're pretty much sentencing him to his demise, but with how terrible you feel you’re desperate for anything to make it better— and right now the only thing making anything better is Eddie. 

“The medicine’ll kick in any minute and you’ll feel much better, okay? I’ll go get you something to eat and then I can rub your back some more. How’s that sound?” he says softly, brushing the edge of your face with his chin as he tilts his face downwards towards yours. 

Your lower lip pouts out again and you feel your eyes water behind your closed lids. Maybe you were already hyper emotional from feeling so sick, but Eddie being so sweet is also doing a number on you.

“Sounds really nice,” you whisper, sucking in a breath.

“You’ll be okay,” Eddie whispers, hand switching from rubbing up and down your back to rubbing circles at the top of your back. “I’ll take care of you, I got you.”

Before the tears in your eyes have a chance to breach your waterline, Eddie’s shifting beside you, leaning you back against the headboard with the promise of being quick while he gets you food. Only once he’s gone and you’re left alone in your room do you notice Gremlins has already started playing. Opening your eyes, you spare a few glances at the screen that distract you from your teary eyed state.

As Eddie promised, he was pretty quick in his return. You could hear him the whole time, kitchen utensils clanking and cupboard doors closing. Maybe all concept of time is lost on you right now, but it seemed like barely any time had passed before he was taking slow, careful steps back towards your room.

“Alright— got that soup you like, got crackers, and got you some juice,” Eddie announces as he situates the dishware on your bedside table. “I even made sure not to warm the soup too much so you can eat it right away,” he says.

Eyes closed again, you don’t know what you expected him to do but him manhandling you took you by surprise. A hand slid behind your back and another under your upper thighs, he was sliding you right over on the mattress.

“Just giving myself some space here,” he says absentmindedly as he fixes your blanket around you. He quickly settles in next to you before grabbing the sleeve of crackers and settling them in front of you and grabbing the bowl of soup.

Sitting with his legs stretched out next to yours, you let your head dip to his shoulder again, this time like a silent thank you where you cozy your head against him, not unlike a cat.

“For the record, you’re more like Gizmo,” he says, a tease intruding in his voice.

“Hm?” you hum questioningly.

“You don’t look like a gremlin, you’re cute like Gizmo,” he says.

You sink your face further into the crook of Eddie's shoulder, lip jetting out once more. He’s done nothing more than call you a cute gremlin rather than an evil gremlin, yet you feel yourself turning misty eyed yet again. This time you squeeze your eyes shut, closing them on purpose, hiding your sickness induced emotions.

“Soups gonna get cold,” Eddie says, twisting his neck to look at you again. “C’mon, it’ll be better for you if you eat it warm,” he says, using his free arm to move you.

Once you’re finally propped up again in an appropriate position to eat, you feel Eddie’s hand on your cheek— no doubt becoming aware of your tears.

“You okay?” he asks softly, thumb rubbing under your cheek.

“You’re being so nice to me,” you explain, sniffling back your need to cry.

“Just taking care of you. Want you to feel better,” he replies, keeping his voice quiet. 

“Thank you, Eddie.”

“You don’t gotta thank me, just gotta eat your soup, okay Gizmo?” Eddie says, making you snort out a snotty laugh before sucking it all back in with an apology that he quickly dismisses. 

You take a few breaths, getting your tears under control. Shifting your focus to the soup, Eddie holds the bowl close to you while you slowly feed yourself spoonful after spoonful. 

“Crackers?” Eddie offers.

“Maybe one.”

“How ‘bout two?” he replies, peeling back the plastic and pulling two out for you. You nod softly before taking them from him. 

You feel yourself running out of energy and it’s exasperating that all it took was lifting a spoon to your lips a measly few times. When you let the crackers sit in your lap for too long, Eddie turns to look at you, resting the bowl of soup down in his lap. 

“Y’okay?” he asks.

“Tired,” you answer. 

“Just finish those and you can be done, okay?” he says, meeting your gaze. You shake your head.

“Can’t,” you reply.

“You can,” he says, turning his torso to put the bowl of soup on the table. He turns back around, reaching for the crackers in your hand. “Know you can,” he repeats, bringing the crackers to your lips.

“Eddie—” you try to protest.

“Bite,” he says, cutting you off and nudging the cracker into your mouth. 

You bite, giving into him. It feels weird being hand fed. It’s probably even weirder when two bites in you close your eyes in an effort to conserve your energy. Regardless, Eddie doesn’t say anything besides positive affirmations about how good you’re doing which you really, really appreciate. 

“How about you drink some of this,” he says, reaching for the glass of juice as you chew the last bite of cracker. “Then I’ll help you lay down and I can rub your back s’more?”

“You don’t have to if you wanna go home, you've been here a long time,” you say, swallowing the dryness of the cracker down. 

Eddie lifts the cup of juice to your lips, tipping it back for you to sip at. When you take more than a few drinks, you lift a hand lightly pushing the cup away. Blinking your eyes open you look at Eddie as he returns the cup to sit with the other dishware on your bedside table. 

“I’m serious, Eddie. You can go home if you want,”

“Don’t want to,”

“You’re gonna be— you interrupt yourself with a yawn this time. “—gonna be so sick,” you say groggily.

“Just let me cuddle you, you know you want it,” he says, a teasing tone hinting in his voice. You blink open your eyes again to see a genuine smile as he looks at you—one that shouldn’t be there considering how gross you feel and are sure you look. Despite that, it’s there and you do want cuddles so you nod softly, making a weak, sad attempt at getting closer to Eddie.

Eddie meets your attempt by gently pulling you down the mattress. He maneuvers you to have your head resting on his chest while his arm snakes around you, rubbing circles on your back. With the sleepiness settling in and your cold symptoms dialing back due to the medicine, you can’t help but hum happily. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he says quietly.

It feels beyond good. Good is an understatement. Having him take care of you like this is making you feel mushy and only highlights your feelings for Eddie. In combination with your partially delusionally, sleepy state the only thing on your mind is expressing your feelings, all of them true no matter how far out of it you are at this point. 

“Eddie, if I die, just know that I love you,” you mutter into the fabric of his shirt. 

“That’s just the cold medicine talking,” Eddie laughs softly. You find the energy to shake your head.

“Nuh-uh, love you,” you repeat. “Love you so much.”

It’s faint, maybe he whispered it or maybe it’s the fact that you were slipping into sleep but you heard it. 

“I love you too,” he says quietly. 

As if those words gave you a short lived second life, it had you perking up, desperately needing to clarify just in case he didn’t understand. 

“But Eddie I love you as my best friend but also more than that— I love you so much.”

He leaves you in silence but you don’t have the clear consciousness to overthink it, you just keep talking.

“I don’t even care if you don’t like me like that, I love you Eddie.”

“I love you too. Love you a lot, but I think we should talk about this when you’re not tired and on cold medicine, okay?” he whispers softly. 

As your thoughts start to drift, you focus on the first half of Eddie's sentiment. He loves you— and he loves you a lot. With that on your mind, intermixed with the comforting friction of his hand on your back, you fall into the deepest and most comfortable sleep of your life despite being so sick. Eddie loves you. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Arguably, the best thing that came out of your cold was your confession. It was bound to happen eventually and although it did sort of seem like a deathbed confession at the time, it was genuine— that of which you clarified for Eddie. To your fortune, he also clarified that his reply was true as well. Beyond that, you were still sick and neither of you had done much more than just sharing those little words that one night. So yes, arguably, that's the best thing that came out of your sickly state; however, in your opinion, you think the best thing that happened was that you got Eddie sick too. 

It was less than a day after you started feeling normal again that Eddie was running a fever. He ended up staying at your place for the majority of your sickness but he had left once to get some things for himself. Since he had his stuff here already, you offered for him to stay over at yours while you returned the favor of playing doctor. 

Eddie took on a much different position as a sick person than you did. Undeniably, you both were on the dramatic end of things but while your cynical humour came out during your time being sick, Eddie was much different in how expressed himself.

Normally, a very touchy feely person, his affectionate side heightened tenfold while he was sick. He was all grabby hands, wanting you closer to him. Maybe it was because the two of you had broken the touch barrier while you were sick or maybe Eddie just turned into a touch deprived baby when he was sick, you’ll never know, but you didn’t deny him of the cuddles that you so dearly appreciated while you were under the weather. 

The most interesting part— which shouldn't have came as a surprise, was that not only did he appreciate holding you, but he intensely appreciated you holding him, whether that be hands scratching his head as he rested it on your stomach, or your arms wrapped around him from behind making him the little spoon. Additionally, he was also incredibly affectionate with his words, constantly telling you how grateful he was for you and how much he appreciated you. 

Your favourite confession came late one night, probably at the peak of his sickness. Fairly similar to your deathbed confession, but a moment to remember regardless.

You had just finished helping him eat, similar to how he had done for you, and were cuddling with him, smoothing your hands over his side as he rested his head on your chest. 

The medicine was kicking in, making him drowsy, eyes fluttering shut as he let sleep take him over. He had kept babbling random thoughts but as he got more and more tired he was eventually reduced to heavy breaths. That was, until he titled his face up to yours. You looked down at him, meeting his sleepy eyes.

“I love you,” he said. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too, Eddie,” you replied, smiling.

“But I love you so much,” he said, voice returning to its babbling cadence. “Love you so much I wanna kiss you and love you and—” his babbling started to slowly fade as his head got heavier on your chest. You couldn’t help but laugh softly as your heart swelled.

You smoothed a hand over his face, brushing back his hair as you stared at him with nothing but love for your very, very sick boy. Like you had given him a second wind, his babbling started up again. 

“Wanna marry you. Love you so much wanna marry you,” he said, words slurring.

“Think you’ll have to ask me on a date first, cutie,” you replied quietly, partially under the impression that he was already asleep. 

“I will. Love you so much, I will,” he mumbled and with that, he was out like a light. 

From there, the rest was history. If curious minds were to inquire, you would say that Eddie’s always been very good at keeping his promises, and mindless babbling or not, he meant every word that he confessed in his sickly, drowsy state. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

thank you! <3

[hysteria-things]

TOUR (part one)

read part two here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sub!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: matt’s been on tour for about a month, meaning he hasn’t seen or done anything with you in a month. he takes matters into his own hands when he’s finally alone, but he does need your help with it.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, mentions underage drinking, swearing, male masturbation, overstimulation (kinda)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 830

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: umm guys i literally woke up to over a hundred notifications??? thank you SO much i didn’t expect this to happen at all. i’m having so much fun with this🥲

my notes app is COOKING right now and the ideas are ideaing. you guys and your support makes me low key emotional LMAO

i want to try and post once a day but i might do more than once sometimes instead because i am HYPE.

also conflicted if i should make a part two so let me know!

it’s friday night and you’re sitting in your best friend’s living room. the two of you and other close friends come together some weekends to hang out. you guys have been laughing, drinking (despite being underage by a year), watching TV, or playing games. in the middle of laughing, you feel your phone buzz repeatedly underneath your thigh. you lift your leg to retrieve it, seeing an incoming phone call from your boyfriend matt.

“hey, sorry. mind if i take this?” you ask the group, lifting your phone so they can see the screen.

“not at all.” your best friend smiles.

you get up from the couch. “thanks. continue the game without me.”

you speed walk to the bathroom and close the door accepting the call and bringing it to your ear. “hello?”

“hey.” he breathes out.

“hey, you.” you smile. “how are you doing?”

“fine,” he says. he’s silent for a beat before speaking again. “sorry i didn’t talk to you much today. it’s been busy, but we just finished the tampa show.”

you haven’t seen matt in over a month because he’s been touring with his brothers across the country. you couldn’t be more proud, but you guys miss each other like crazy.

“did you win?”

“damn right i did, baby,” he says hoarsely. he sounds a bit strange to you, but you shrug it off as exhaustion. doing shows almost every day can wear somebody out.

but oh boy are you wrong.

on the other line, matt sits on his bed in the tour bus with his hand wrapped around his dick. your recent post on instagram is displayed on his screen as you talk about your day on the other end, having no clue what’s happening.

the post consists of you posing, wearing a short navy blue dress. your tits practically spilled out of the top.

“…was crazy.” you finish. “anyway, is tour fun so far? it’s almost over already.”

“uh huh.” he squeezes his eyes shut and throws his head back. he hisses, his movements gradually becoming faster. he’s sensitive, and it hurts so fucking bad. he needs to release, but only you have the power to make him come undone.

“matt? you okay? you sound off.” you ask concerned.

“keep talking, baby. i’m so close.”

you go to say something, but instead, press your ear closer to the phone. you hear shuffling and grunting. it doesn’t take a mastermind to figure out what he’s doing.

“you’re being risky, matthew.” you say teasingly, a whine escaping his lips. he prefers being called matt, but with you, matthew rolls perfectly off of your tongue. “where’s everybody else, hm?”

“at the store,” he says shakily, his hand pumping faster. he takes his thumb and twirls it around his red tip where pre-cum is threatening to spew out. “i need to cum so bad.”

“then do it, baby. pretend it’s me making you feel so good,” you say seductively, biting your lip as you hear his sounds of pleasure.

you get that familiar feeling in your core, but because you’re at a friend's, you’ll feel weird doing it in her bathroom.

guess you’ll have to wait until you’re all alone.

“fuck.” he whispers, stomach jerking. he thrusts up into his fist a few times to finish the job. he whines as he makes a mess all over his stomach and thighs.

he whines again, purposely trying to overstimulate himself. “matt, don’t overdo it. you’re too sensitive.” you say, knowing he didn’t stop because you can still hear the commotion.

“please.” he exhales. “one more.”

“hold on,” you reply, opening the camera app on the phone. you pull the straps down of your dress and pull out your boobs, pushing them together and snapping a picture. you know how much matt goes crazy over them. you send the photo, waiting for his reaction.

you bring the phone back up to your ear to hear a sigh of “holy fuck” fall from his mouth.

“i need to fuck your tits so bad.” he groans, throwing his head back as he tries to reach his second orgasm.

you bite your lip to hide your smile, enjoying this a little too much. the wet noises on the other line drive you insane.

“i’m gonna— fuck, i’m cumming.” he lets out a loud moan as he makes another mess, his dick red and swollen. he’s still not satisfied, because you’re not there. he continues pumping his cramped hand, but you and he both know it’s no use.

“matt, that’s enough.” you say sternly. “don’t do it too much, okay? it’ll hurt.”

he obliges, removing his hand and lying there. his breathing starts to slow, but he’s still panting. “i miss you so much.”

“i miss you too.” you coo. “just a few more days, okay?”

“okay,” he mumbles.

you lied.

what matt doesn’t know is that you have a plane ticket for tomorrow, to fly out to ft. lauderdale for the last show.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing

[gold-dustwomxn]

mystified

summary: after sudden attacks on women around town, you take a self defense class. ellie, your long standing crush is the instructor

fair warning, future chapters will include discussions of abuse and other heavy topics. each part will contain its own warnings please read them! eventual smut

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

cw: small interaction with a scary man, smoking weed

fluff fluff and more fluff, a little angst. protective ellie makes an appearance

inhale, exhale. grunts and bodies slamming against gym mats could be heard outside the big double doors of ‘miller’s defense studio.’ news of women being attacked at night had been circulating quite loudly in your sleepy town. dad says you should attend the free session, be able to defend yourself if anything happens. only problem was half the town was in here and you fucking hated being around large groups of people. you had your pepper spray keychain on you at all times, did you really need to learn how to fight? yeah, probably.

one of the many annoying things about being in such a small town is knowing everyone. at least your best friend dina and her boyfriend jesse were here to soften the blow of all of this chaos.

sat on the sidelines, you observe everyone attempting to show off sloppy, embarrassing ‘defense’ moves. jesse spots you and obnoxiously yells your name across the gym. rolling your eyes, you make your way over to him and dina.

“hey, ___ you’re late and you’re not gonna like what I have to tell you,” he smiles nervously. darting your eyes from him to dina, you eye them warily, regretting coming here even more now. “well? spit it out jesse.”

“jesus ok. well since you’re so late, there’s no one else for you to pair up with-“ you cut him off, “oh? that’s fine I’ll just watch then.” him and dina look at each other before she looks at you cautiously. “well, the only other person who doesn’t have a partner is the instructor for today.” you squint your eyes towards the front of the room trying to make out who it is, and oh fuck no, it’s ellie. the girl you’ve had a crush on for quite some time.

“ha, no fucking way. you guys can just teach me later. I am not making a fool of myself in front of her and the whole fucking town. you know I hate being the center of attention and she’s gonna demonstrate on me to teach everyone!” you turn your body attempting to walk away.

dina grabs your forearms softly trying to chill you out with her witchy, calming demeanor. because seriously how is she able to do that with just her touch? “you’re gonna be fine, ___. just breathe. no one else knows what they’re doing either, that’s why we’re here. you’re not gonna look like a fool,” she nods at you slowly, “plus, jesse already told her you’d be her partner.” she gives you an apologetic smile.

“ugh. why can’t you be her partner jesse? she’s your best friend.” dina grabs jesse’s arm and nuzzles into his side with a gross, love drunk smile. “because, I wanna be with my man. sorry, babe but you can do this. you can shamelessly use this as an excuse to be close to her anyway” she wiggles her eyebrows.

“oh my god,” you scoff and roll your eyes, “you guys seriously suck.”

an ear piercing whistle startles you, nearly making you jump out of your skin, and the room goes quiet. “good morning everyone, I’m ellie. welcome to miller’s defense studio. today, I’m going to be teaching you guys basic self defense techniques. learning self defense is more than how to prevent an attacker from overpowering you, but also about keeping a clear and calm head in the face of danger and how to gain the upper hand..”

her introduction speech fades from your ears as you observe her confident demeanor. dressed only in a simple white wife-beater tank and sweatpants, she still stands tall with a commanding presence. her hair sits in a low bun at the back of her neck, tattoo on full display while her toned arms move animatedly as she speaks.

you blink a few times snapping out of it as dina taps your shoulder and looks at you. “what?” she nods her head at ellie who is looking at you, waiting for you to join her at the front. your eyes widen briefly, “oh fuck.” you mutter under your breath.

you quickly walk up to her in embarrassment and she smirks at you as if she knows something that you don’t. she puts her hand on your hip and leans to turn on the bluetooth speaker behind you. “hey ___” she whispers in your ear. goosebumps travel down your body. fuck, this is gonna be a long day.

after some basic blocking and hitting techniques, ellie decides to teach everyone how to throw an attacker over your shoulder. many cry of “what if they’re taller or heavier?” blah blah, doesn’t matter. next thing you know, ellie turns and steps away from you, grabs your arm, squatting and lifts your hips against her ass before pulling your arm forward, rolling you off her hips onto the floor, wind knocked out of you, hand now around your throat. you lay there stunned, out of breath as ellie’s face hovers close to yours. you take a small glance at her lips before looking up into her eyes and she smirks, also out of breath. fuck, you were caught.

with everyone now practicing the technique, she grabs your hand and pulls you up. “you okay? didn’t go too rough on you?” she places her hands on her hips and looks you up and down so quickly that you could’ve easily missed it if you weren’t paying close attention.

you laugh “no, no, I’m fine. that was pretty crazy. when did you learn how to do all of this shit? I mean, I knew joel had this place obviously but I didn’t know you were involved in it.”

“hm.. well, when joel adopted me I had some.. anger issues, getting into fights all the time. he eventually gave up on trying to ‘change my ways’ and decided to train me how to fight properly so I wouldn’t hurt myself.. tricked me into taking out my aggression elsewhere, so I guess he ended up changing me anyway..” she chuckles “but, yeah I don’t teach or join in on the classes, I do it on my own time. joel’s been booked up so he convinced me to do this for him.” she scratches the back of her neck sheepishly and blushes. you wonder if it’s because she told you something personal or it’s because it’s her first time teaching.

“well.. I wouldn’t have guessed this was your first time. you really know how to command a room. you’re a natural,” you smile at her shyly. “dunno know if I really feel prepared to come up against an attacker though, maybe you could teach me some more.” you mentally pat yourself on the back for your brave attempt at flirting.

she laughs, “oh yeah?” moving closer to you. you look at her briefly before looking away. “mhm!” is what you come up with. jesus christ. she laughs again and nods. “alright, I guess I can make an exception for you and give you some free lessons. I’m gonna go do the closing speech or whatever the fuck joel wanted me to do..” she looks somewhere behind you and her eyes widen. you follow her line of sight and see dina and jesse look away abruptly. okay, suspicious.

as everyone is packing up their belongings, you make your way over to jesse and dina. dina smirks at you, “so?”

“so what..?” you furrow your brows. “how’d it go up there?” before you can respond, ellie comes over and greets you guys. “ellie! ___ and jesse are coming over tonight, you wanna come smoke and chill?” she looks at you as she answers “yeah, sure” she shrugs and then looks over at dina and jesse, “just text me and let me know.”

as you walk to dina’s house, the cold bitter air of winter sends a chill down your spine. all of a sudden you hear a car pulling up next to you and a window rolling down. the sound of a man’s voice has your adrenaline pumping. walking away quickly, you put your phone to your ear and pretend that you’re talking to someone “hey! you think you can help me with some directions? my phone is dead and I’m lost.” your heart is racing and you click off the safety on your pepper spray. another car comes to a screeching halt behind you. a slam of a car door and quick footsteps has you looking back in fear.

ellie comes into your line of sight and puts you behind her, looking at the man with a challenging gaze “is there a fucking problem here?” you hear a flicking sound and look down, eyes widening when you see a switchblade in her hand. he skids off and she manages to take a picture of his plates, putting the switchblade in her back pocket before turning to you. she gently grabs your shoulders and looks at you in concern. “you okay? what happened?” she looks down at your hands and you hadn’t realized until now that you’re shaking. “c’mon.” she grabs your hand and leads you to her car, opening the passenger door for you.

“why are you walking around by yourself? jesus, ___ you could’ve been..” she looks away from you, cutting herself off and shakes her head, clenching her jaw. “I would’ve picked you up.” she starts the car, and pulls away from the curb.

“I know! fuck. dina lives so close I thought- yeah it wasn’t smart knowing what’s been happening.” she turns her head to look at you briefly, her gaze softening. “just text me or something next time okay? I don’t want you walking around by yourself, I’ll pick you up.” you nod and take a deep breath. “thanks for the save,” you laugh, trying to soften the mood. she, however does not laugh which makes you even more nervous. great, you think, I pissed her off. she glances at you, noticing your nervous fidgeting. she briefly squeezes your hand “it’s okay, I’m just glad you’re safe” she gives you a small smile. you feel butterflies in your stomach. the rollercoaster of emotions from fear to anxiety and now to the feelings ellie is giving you are a lot.

“I’m gonna stop back home to show joel the pics of the plates and tell him what happened so he can take it to the authorities or whatever. I don’t really wanna be the one talking to the cops. you want me to drop you off at dina’s first?” she glances at you. “no, it’s cool I’ll come with you.”

ellie’s house can be described as old and rustic. outdated wood paneling lining the walls, decor and photos that give it a country feel, the cozy smell and crackling sound of the lit fireplace flooding your senses.

joel greets you warmly. small town means he’s seen you grow up, being friendly with your parents. his demeanor is rough around the edges with a don’t fuck with me attitude, but also very polite and caring. you now realize how similar ellie is to him.

as ellie explains the fucked up situation which occurred minutes ago, your phone vibrates in your pocket.

dina🤍: dont kill me pls but I have to cancel tonight. my mom found out im failing stats and she’s on the fuckin warpath. ill make it up to u promise xx

me: fuccck i’m at ellies rn she saved me from some shit i’ll tell u ab it later but now i’m nervous help🥲 sorry ab ur mom i’ll pray for ur soul

you lock your phone and put it back in your pocket. the internal panic of now having to be alone with ellie settles deep in your gut.

ellie walks over to you “alright, joel said he’s gonna deal with it. you all set to go?”

“did dina text you? check your phone.”

you watch ellie’s eyes glide across her screen and it gives you a moment to ogle over how fucking attractive she is. her long lashes, sharp jawline and freckles more pronounced due to the soft glow from her phone emitting against the low lighting of the room. she looks up at you with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. “uhh fuck, well, do you want me to take you home?.. or we can hang out here if you want.” she looks away from you.

“yeah, I’m down to hang” you smile at her. she gives a small smile back and blushes. alright, maybe she feels the same way I do. “okay cool, you wanna smoke and watch a movie?”

smoke hazes around ellie’s dim lit room and the movie in the background is long forgotten. you’re laughing so fucking hard with tears in your eyes, and you don’t know if it’s because you’re so high or if ellie is really that funny. “you really decked your foster sibling in the face because he borrowed your savage starlight comic ellie?” she scoffs and throws a pillow at you. “he did not borrow it.. he stole that shit and thought he could get away with it. can’t let people fuck around with you like that in the system. makes you an easy target” she takes another drag of the joint.

“uh-huh,” you grab the joint and take a hit “well, clearly these kids learned not to fuck with the big, bad aggressive ellie huh?” she laughs and rolls her eyes “oh my god, shut up, ___.”

ellie thinks about how she likes that you’re not taking pity on her for her fucked up childhood, and how it’s so easy to talk to you. it feels natural opening up to you, not being able to do that with other people, not even jesse. it makes her like you even more.

you groan as you try to peel your heavy, post high eyes open feeling warmth around you, inhaling a scent filled with clean laundry and a hint of woodsy cologne. you open your eyes and see a sleeping ellie, mouth slightly parted, breathing slowly. your eyes widen, realizing your head is on her chest and her arm is wrapped around you. you glance over at her clock that reads 3:54am. fuck, you don’t even remember falling asleep. you move slightly trying not to wake ellie to text your mom saying that you fell asleep at dina’s. ellie stirs and groans, pulling you closer to her. fuck it. you don’t know if this will ever happen again. you close your eyes and drift back to sleep.

[theeternalwombtarot]

what you need to hear right now: channeled from spirit

message: I love this type of art, I have tons of it on my Pinterest but anyway that's sort of beside the point, I feel called to do a message but I feel very low on energy within as of late. I want to try and keep this one short, sweet, and clear. As you know, especially if you're a light worker or intuitive, shifts within the collective, within energy however it comes are always felt first by us. If there is a symptom of change, I'm feeling it 10x over so that I can prepare to relay that information to the collective because I would honestly consider myself to be a vessel. As I cope with my life and my own human experience I am also in the process of collecting important information so that I can guide the collective effectively and let me tell you, I've been through some SHIT with the opening force of 2024. Anyways, enjoy the reading and I pray that you find what you're looking for and what you need with me in my space today.

-

I.

"we've been watching you juggle both the physical and the spiritual within your hands for the past couple weeks, you may feel as though your worlds are colliding your the sky and the ocean has folded over with you in the center. There comes a time in one's life when the elements that make up their world must come into alignment and fuse with one another. You were told to learn what it meant to be a balanced individual, and so as you completed and closed off karmic lessons and overcame blockages you became closer and closer to equilibrium and these moments now are crucial as what you had needed all long is on its way to be delivered to you. You've been learning what it means to manage your time, manage your energy, and spread yourself where needed to obtain the results you desire. You have one foot in the spiritual realm and one foot in the physical world. Your development as of now is so incredibly important and we're supporting you in your journey forward.

Things may appear to be slow, backed up, or difficult at this time but movement is coming in quickly and to be expected soon. You've planted your seeds to receive and as you deserve, you shall. within the next two weeks for some of you and even a couple of days for a select few of you, things will begin to move forward or pick up momentum. Set your intentions straight and make sure that they are unwavering. there is success on the horizon, whatever is difficult or isn't working out for you that will change. You've grown so much, and your only job at this time is to nurture yourself and your manifestations, show yourself grace, ask for healing, ask for closure, and ask for the necessary tools to care for yourself as one should. And become clear and aligned with whatever you are manifesting, and put yourself in the position to receive by doing the work on your end and meeting us in the middle with your will and your gratitude. If there's a will there's a way even if you don't have everything in the world to offer in exchange. Come to terms with your power and the part you play in your world.

A select few of you are royalty within the spiritual realm you are kin of spirits who are highly respected and praised in the beyond and that is why the pile you chose depicts the divinity of a matriarch holding her child. Look for gold jewelry and gold trinkets and items if you choose to go out shopping or collecting. You feel called to build something or may have an idea, honor your ideas, and put actions behind what you desire to reap. Those of you who know that you are divinely protected are being heavily watched over and shielded, there could potentially be gossip by those of whom you've left behind or parted from but their tongues will be stilled when they speak of you they summon your spiritual court ( your ancestors, your spirit guides, guardian angels and all deities who call out to you and respect you.) their karma is sharp. Pay no mind to any negative energy sent to you by others. They talk only because they want to be paid great attention to but the audience lies in front of you and the universe's love and support is more than evident on your side.

You are about to succeed heavily, many things will be given to you, prosperity and congratulations are in order, the people will see. you are in a position to receive well in your finances, so well you will be able to give to others or keep your abundance in full cycle forward and back to you. We once told you that you would be compensated greatly for your hardship and the spiritual council has spoken and reached a solid verdict on your reward and the size and volume of the gifts you're about to receive. Do nothing but nurture thyself and expand from this point forward. be easy with secureness in your good fortune, do not let your fear or your anxiety eclipse you there is no purpose for any of it."

-

II.

"You asked to be free of the things that threaten to hold you hostage and one of the biggest of those things happens to be you. It's time for change and it's time for growth. As you step into the new year you have no choice but to be reset now after years and months and weeks of being broken. You need to be able to heal properly. It's time to come clean and be honest. There are many things within your life that have made lasting impressions on who you chose to be or what you chose to do for your survival even at the expense of others, even those you held dear to you. The process of living an honest life is not an easy one. It is easier to be deceptive, to use your pain as a weapon, or to do what you need to do to survive even if it means stepping on others in the process or not meeting the needs of those you've awoken to you. It is hard work to be in alignment, it is hard work to always take accountability, it is hard work to look at your shadow and truly acknowledge it, you know more than anyone."

interception: I'm getting the energy of the film "warrior" with tom hardy in where he plays a character named tommy who ends up having to fight his brother for a large reward in a wrestling championship. He was a marine in the military and has childhood trauma that shapes the way he presents himself to others and navigates in his interpersonal relationships and of course what his goals and purpose are in the film, I'm not going to spoil it for you but if this is your pile, I recommend you watch it. it's on Netflix. it also really does a good job of highlighting an aspect of ourselves that we carry in our spirits to marry ourselves to our trauma or particular factors of it to hide from troubling or conflicting emotions or circumstances. things that are "inherently" bad or negative in theory but can look "desirable" or "acceptable" to us because our motivation for accepting it happens to be a heavily skewed one.

" It's time you finally free yourself from your karma, from your vices, from your shadow, and from aspects of yourself or your life that threaten to keep you stuck or stagnant. You can't take with you all of these things into the new year, into the new world, into your new life. The devil is in the details and he has done nothing but hold onto your ankle this entire time. It is your responsibility to make the changes that you've been asking for or craving. You may fear loss or the reality of the damage you've caused, the opportunities you've put yourself in the position to lose. You will sit with yourself, you will look at yourself in the mirror or you will suffer and continue to do so under the hand of your own decisions. What you are owed in compensation for a hard life cannot be received if you cannot put yourself in the position to receive them. There's a need in life for personal given grace as well as accountability for the part we play in events and circumstances that take place in our lives, take time to self reflect, forgive yourself, show yourself grace and in turn find the courage to communicate with those you've wrong and/or begin your journey forwards.

In our lives, the consequence we bare the burden of however heavy the weight is never the full and eternal end there is always something after. You've proven yourself to be resilient, to be a force. Use your strengths and allow them to will you forward into the next chapter of your life. Someone significant in your past could've heavily admired you or seen in you things you could not see in yourself as they were able to sense higher beings in others however troubled their karma was. The love they had for you is the love you are about to receive from yourself. The things they saw in you that you could not see you are preparing to embody in full. Ace of pentacles upright for you here signifying abundance coming to you when you are able to open yourself up to receive it all. remain committed to your cause."

-

III.

"You're seeking out personal closure or looking for solutions to an issue that you don't have on end. Don't make the mistake of running from completion or leaving doors ajar because it is difficult to close them shut you know what you need to do. You need to make the proper investments for your life, you need to work for your improvement or to receive the life you have felt you were entitled to all along but the mistake you've made along the way all this time is attempting to take short cuts and be strategic, deceptive or ingenuine in your method to try and deceive. You are used to putting on a mask or trying on costumes to appeal what others desire from you so you can receive the result you prefer from them, their approval, their support, their validation. Your biggest enemy is the closet full of masks you've accumulated they work against you, they push people away, they scare people of value, and they mislead as you've asked them to. Your life and it's events however unfortunate or difficult have existed to serve you a purpose and put you on your righteous path forward in alignment with your highest self and the life they live but instead you've sharpened it and allowed it to be used as a weapon against others and against yourself.

put your strengths and your adaptability where it's needed and not into being a sheep in wolves clothing or traveling through the night in such a way in which you won't be seen. Abundance will come for you and doors will open up for you where you set your intention and where you are unwaveringly honest and true. Reflect on your choices, your habits, and your behaviors in order to decide what needs to be changed and what needs to be improved and do it honestly this time and set the intention to change it not make another mask of it and store it away for another time. It is not your place to control the way everyone looks at you and how you are perceived or if they are willing to give to you or not. You control or manipulate what does not belong to you from places of fear you store deep within you and it is time to heal and ready yourself to move forward and leave a karmic version of yourself behind. Pack up the things you need to bring with you and be rid of the rest. Do not be resistant to change you must move."

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 4

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Mentions of Cannibalism, Choking

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Ok, so clearly I'm a big fat liar. I'm sorry this chapter also took ages. I think I'm just a slow writer lmao. Anyway, it was fun writing this so I hope you guys enjoy it. As always, thanks for all the lovely comments I appreciate them a lot. Take care and have a good one!

"Where is he?" you snarl as you march through the halls gripping Iassa's choker. "Where is the na-Baron?" Your voice a threat.

"He is doing his morning drills, my lady," Zora, your new servant chases after you, growing increasingly panicked, "he trains with the Warmaster."

You pick up your pace, "Take me to him." When Zora hesitates, you yell, "Now!"

When you arrive, Feyd-Rautha is sparring with who you assume to be the Harkonnen Warmaster in a shallow recessed pit in the center of the training room.

"Where is she?" you call from the doorway, your voice filled with vitriol.

Your unexpected presence catches Feyd-Rautha off-guard and his sparring partner manages to cut his right abdomen through his shield. He growls at the Warmaster and snaps his head to you, "I am preoccupied at the moment, my lady."

"Where is Iassa?" your glare pierces through him.

"Who?" he asks genuinely confused.

Your grip on the choker tightens, "Don't pretend. The servant girl assigned to me. You left this in my room, didn't you?" The realization he had snuck into your quarters while you were asleep quietly creeps on you. "What have you done with her."

"Ah," he tilts his head, ignoring his bleeding wound, "I thought about just cutting her tongue out." A smirk grows on his lips, "but my darlings were hungry."

It was only then you noticed his concubines in the room, lounging in a corner of pillows. Their sharp-toothed grins only stoked your fury.

You scoff in anger, "because she revealed your farce? Are you so insecure?"

Is cocky expression evolves into a glare. "Leave us," he orders, eyes staying on yours. Servants flood out of the room asking with the Warmaster but it seems his pets were exempt from this command. "Why do you cry for a girl you knew less than two days?"

He was right. Why do you care so much? You were hardly 'close' with Iassa. You've had servants on Caladan and you were never particular with any of them. Would you anger for them the same way? Why must you suddenly be a paragon of justice? And at the risk of the Harkonnens' contempt?

When you remain speechless, the na-Baron continues, "You may not be familiar with slaves but here, their death is inconsequential—save for the economics of it all."

"Is that so?" You look at his pets then back at him. Your breath is dragon-like and your tone hardens, "then relieve your concubines."

"What?" Feyd-Rautha's low voice echoes through the room. His concubines hiss at you from their raised platform.

You stand taller, shoulders back, still clutching Iassa's choker in your hand, "If I am to be your wife, I demand you take no other women."

He takes a moment to determine how serious you are being, then decides it doesn't matter. He walks up the steps surrounding the pit and you aren't given time to react before he has your neck in his grip. "You are in no place to demand such things, Atreides." His black gritted teeth at the last word match the darkness of his voice.

Your hands fly to claw at his wrist, "How dare you lay a hand on me." You struggle against his unrelenting grip, "Let go of me!"

He leans down to your ear, "You're a feisty one, aren't you, little hawk?" You feel his hold continue to tighten and panic rises in your chest. Before you can be rendered speechless, you make a decision.

"UNHAND ME."

The Voice echos from your mouth seizing Feyd-Rautha's mind and his hand releases your throat. As you gasp desperately for air, he attempts to recover from the haze of the mental intrusion. When he finds his bearings, you see the thrill in his dark eyes. Witch, you can almost hear him say.

"Aren't you just full of surprises," he smirks.

"And I will have many more," you say bitterly. Straightening your dress, you regain your self-assured stance and meet his eyes with a cold stare, "Be rid of your harpies before we are wed or I will kill them myself."

You don't spare his concubines a glance as you turn to leave. You don't see the way Feyd-Rautha looks at you, head tilted, as you storm off.

You dismiss Zora and lock yourself in your chambers. Sprawled out on your bed, you stare up at the dark gray ceiling and question what could have possibly possessed you to challenge Feyd-Rautha the way you did. You go back and forth on whether or not it was an overreaction but eventually chalk it up to the Atreides' fiery defiance. Certainly, it wasn't the brightest decision but you sense that your father and brother would not have condemned it. Your heart is still pounding from the encounter. And the flicker in Fey-Rautha's eyes—you dismiss the idea that he might have enjoyed it.

You had hoped to hide your mother's training for longer. She had trained you and Paul in The Voice and Prana-Bindu. As a high-born lady, you could have been sent to a Bene Gesserit School in your formative years, but it was decided against due to Baron Vladimir's thinly veiled aversion to The Sisterhood. So, Lady Jessica resolved to teach you in secret. You were grateful for it anyway as you didn't have to be separated from your family. You think about how your mother would be able to continue to train Paul without you. You had always been more adept at The Voice than him. Now, he has the opportunity to surpass you. The thought triggers your competitiveness against your sibling but the feeling quickly melts into melancholy. You miss him. You miss all of them.

Is this to be your life? Married to a twisted psycho who feeds his concubines human flesh and kills people you care about? You sit up and place Iassa's choker carefully in the drawer of your nightstand. You hoped she didn't fear you as she did the Harkonnens.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door. You had really hoped no one would bother you for the rest of the day but then you feel the emptiness in your stomach. You had skipped breakfast that day to confront the na-Baron. When you open the door, Zora is holding a covered tray which you assumed, and hoped, to be lunch.

"Would my lady like to eat in solitude?" she asks after she sets your meal at the small table in your quarters. Your heart sinks. She is so young.

"Ah no, I would like you to stay if that's alright." You sit at your table and cut into your food while Zora stands politely to the side. "I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier. The na-Baron—my fiancé—he has caused me some aggravation."

"It is quite alright, my lady," she says, her head bowed low.

After your meal, you ask Zora to fetch you various projections on the planet of Giedi Prime from the Harkonnen archives. You were hesitant to make the request considering the fate of your last servant but you hoped you managed to convince Feyd-Rautha you were not to be trifled with. Besides, what harm could you do by learning about flora and fauna.

You spent the rest of the day watching informative holograms about your new home's ecology and biodiversity. Apparently, one of the planet's greatest exports is wood from the Pilingitam tree which is prized for its pliability when freshly cut but sturdy hardness once aged and dried. It was also anti-fungal and naturally fire-resistant. It was a surprise you didn't see much of it. Everything in the fortress was cold stone and concrete. You wonder how beautiful furniture made out of Pilingitam must be when carved by a skilled artist.

That night, you make sure to lock your door and fall asleep to images of sprawling landscapes.

The following day was similarly spent, watching projections about Giedi Prime's geographical features. You were left undisturbed save for Zora's quiet knocks on your door to serve your meals. Your life as a baroness is days away so you might as well educate yourself. Although, you suppose you should probably focus on politics and history more than the planet's Obsidian Planes but you weren't really in the mood to learn of the Harkonnens' gruesome past right now. You would cross that bridge when you got there.

Come evening, you hear an unfamiliar knock at your door. Zora had already brought you dinner earlier so you are wary as you crack open the door.

"Hello, little hawk." Feyd-Rautha's tall figure looms past the doorway.

You stare him down, making no move to let him in.

He tilts his head slightly, "Would you really kill my darlings?"

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove

[radioisntdead]

Hey could I request a scenario where the reader is Alastor's niece and the vees have a crush and alastor's reaction to finding out as well as the Vees. Honeslty if you have it where he beats up basically goes ha no for Vals part and beats him up I'd love that

Good evening my dear after writing I'm realizing you may have meant for them to be separate categories but I went love square [???]

Warnings!!

Valentino, the Vee's being weird, OOC, Vox being a voyeuristic creep, reader has deer features

You know after aiding your favorite [and only] uncle in murder and falling to hell while your mother and grandma ascended above, having a trio of overlords falling head over heels for you was NOT on your bingo card.

You didn't notice them having a crush on you until Auntie Rosie pointed it out when Velvette had a large shipment of not only clothing mailed to you but with flowers, Vox had sent electronics and more flowers [that Alastor would have such joy destroying] and Valentino had sent you erotica.

Classy.

Velvette would be the most aggressive in getting your attention, she probably also has the biggest chance to win over your affections, shoving people out of the way to talk to you, affectionately calling you things, giving you a new woredrob every other week, flowers, personally inviting you to her fashion shows and giving you VIP seating.

Vox watches you, I imagine you at least have a phone probably not Voxtech though so I imagine it's probably slightly harder to watch you through that, but with drones and other devices he watches, probably calls you something like Doe-eyes or Dollface, he's called you mini Alastor a couple of times which you did NOT APPRECIATE, once he realizes that Alastor keeps destroying the technology he sends you he switches to flowers, with cameras in them, he sometimes teleports through them and is often met with you swinging something at him and breaking his screen, unfortunately for you he's into that.

Valentino, arguably the WORST one to have pinning over you, dude manages to pop out at the worst times offering to make you a star, asking you to warm his bedroom, uncomfortably leaning in and touching you.

You ripped off his antenna.

The three of them bicker over you in private.

Now after you figured out WHY they were sending you shit and giving you special privileges you immediately snitched to Uncle Alastor because you did NOT want to deal with the whole dumpster fire that was the Vees.

Now Alastor wasn't naive about the Vee's... Affections towards you, again they sent you a concerning amount of things, but he didn't do anything because you're an adult and you can make your own decisions.

But when you come to him saying that Valentino sent you erotica and made you uncomfortable?

Well you are his one and only niece! The only family he has down here! The least he can do is squish a little purple moth for you!

You wonder if restraining orders were a thing in hell and if they'd work.

Now the TV guy and fashionista surprisingly were NOT completely thrown off by their buddy's screams getting absolutely blasted on Alastor's radio broadcast, they kept their simping to a more low-key level with only flowers getting shipped to you from Velvette and weird love emails from Vox.

Vox for some reason thinks asking Alastor for your hand in MARRIAGE, was a good idea.

It was NOT.

He's lucky he didn't meet the same fate as Valentino.

Maybe one day you'd choose one of the remaining Vee's or both if you're into that, or maybe neither.

But for now you'd use their infatuation with you to your advantage.

Good evening folks! I hope you enjoyed and I think it's probably obvious at this point that Velvette is my favorite out of the Vee's.

Am I ever going to write a fic where Valentino isn't injured or straight up dead in some way? No, no I'm not.

Anyways as always thank you for tuning in!

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

I'll Show You Just How Sad I Am

a raymond smith x reader quick little blurb, just 1k words

there's mentions of smut in this so read at your own risk <33 who knows, maybe raymond will make a more regular occurrence on my blog over the next few weeks

here's my masterlist in case you want to check out my other works

"Should be the door to your left, honey."

Your voice is sweet in his ear, a pleasant distraction from the run-down building Mickey had sent him off to. It's smelly and dirty and even though he knows he should most likely feel pity, he's still just as disgusted. He'd be with you in a heartbeat if he could, safe and clean in the comfort of your home.

"Mickey should've sent a cleaning lady", he grunts as he knocks at the door, your chuckle almost making up for the very truthful, thinly veiled anger behind his words.

"Mickey wanted you because you're the best", you recite - you've told him often enough by now that it really is reciting. "And because he trusts you to keep this clean."

Which is easier said than done.

Twenty minutes later, the whole thing's anything but clean.

Sure, he'd very much accomplished bringing Laura home - but he'd also left a dead teenager in a puddle of blood about two stories down from where he should've been sitting.

"Left, left!", you call into the mic. Even though you're far from panicking, you're still much too loud, your voice flowing from his earpiece and stinging his brain.

"I'm trying, darling", he grunts back, breathless and panting as he pushes on, one foot in front of the other on the pavement of some random South London streets.

"I know, I know", you sigh. He isn't sure whether he's actually hearing you chew on your lip or imagining it, but he doesn't really have the capacity to think too much about it at the moment. "He's right in front of you. You've got him, Ray."

Yeah... The only problem is that what you must be seeing as a moving, flashing dot on a digital map, he's seeing as a bunch of teenagers trying to look intimidating. Probably feeling intimidating too. God, this is exactly why he didn't want the job. He isn't made for the fucking low-classed youth.

"You've seen enough?", that bastard of a boy spits at him. "Now I've got backup."

Raymond steadies his hands on his thighs and takes a deep breath in.

"You couldn't back up a phone, you cunt", he rasps, his erratic heartbeat slowly starting to calm back down.

"Raymond", you scold. "That's a child."

"That's a bastard", he mutters, before he finally straightens and tries his best at a somewhat mannered bargain. He's really only here for the fucking phone. He needs those pictures, then he's gone. He doesn't want to leave more unnecessary corpses to take care of.

So he offers them money. Which is something that they should definitely take, just judging by how they look. Plus a visit to a very good psychiatrist. But they don't. It's the same fucking bastard who's taken the pictures in the first case and got him into this mess that refuses - and in such a really stupid way, too: "How 'bout you give us that bag and be gone anyway?" - god, even you let out a choked up laugh at that, your breath carrying through the mic and into Ray's earpiece.

He drops his chin to his chest and shakes his head. What a fucking bunch of idiots. Goddamn it. He can feel his blood boil, hot and hotter.

"It's bait", you mutter, your voice low. "Calm down, love. You've got a machine gun. Use it."

Yeah, fucking hell, it's bait, he knows that. It doesn't change the way he's feeling. But your voice in his ear at least brings him back down to reality.

"Right", he grunts, then he swipes his coat to the side, closes his hand around the grip of the gun and steadies his fingertips against the trigger. He pulls it out in one swift motion, points it at the sky and shoots. For a good three seconds longer than necessary.

"Just like that", you breathe, your grin dripping down onto your voice and melting into his ear like honey. You've really got to stop that, he actually loses his focus for half a moment there and in his line of work, next time that means sure death.

The entire bunch of teenage boys flees - as expected - and in less than a minute, Raymond has the phone pressed into his palm.

"God, sometimes I really hate that I'm not there", you sigh, something in the background ruffling, probably as you shift into a more comfortable position on your chair. "Kinda wish I could've seen you."

"Run after a little cunt like that? You didn't miss anything, darling", he says, turning his head left and right before he strides back towards the car, his steps long and purposeful.

"Turn the corner here", you mutter, your voice taking on that specific tone that tells him there's a lazy grin licking at your lips. He can just imagine how you're looking (especially now that he has the time and freedom of mind for it) - one foot propped up on those bar stools that you'd bought for the kitchen, your equipment organised on the table top in front of you, his shirt hanging from your shoulders and pooling in your lap, your head tilted back and your eyes half-closed as you talk to him.

"I don't mean the little idiot", you go on, undeterred even as he narrowly avoids a trash can. Fuck, you really distract him too much. "I'm talking about you. God, you sounded so hot I wanted to jump at you. Actually scratch that, I still do."

He lets out a chuckle as he spots the car, his steps slowing. He should hurry up, he knows that. But he's got you in his ear, talking in that sweet voice of yours about just how much he affects you. He can't pass up on that.

"You're a little fuckin' minx, darling", he mutters with a grin, throwing a glance over his shoulder to check if there's any possibility he could be overheard. He doesn't necessarily feel like making your conversation public, even as you hum into the microphone.

"Yeah, but yours", you mumble. It sounds like you're almost proud of that. "Here's an idea, love: Get back home before I finish my shower and I'll show you just how sad I am that I couldn't watch you."

[hitlikehammers]

feels like home

rating: t ♥️ cw: coming out, softness, recovering from the upside down ♥️ tags: pre-relationship, post-s4, fluff, hurt/comfort, Eddie is having many feelings, the main one being that Steve feels like home, platonic stobbin, supportive platonic soulmates coming out so Eddie feels safe to do the same, injury recovery, still-so-soft

for @steddielovemonth day seventeen: Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost (@yournowheregirl)

this definitely takes place chronologically after this one so: have some of these codependent lovebirds as they start to figure their big feelings out ♥️

It’s weird, and probably unhealthy, that his hospital room—like this—feels kinda like home.

But he thinks it’s okay, to be fair, because it’s not like he thinks this place is home; the smell of antiseptic is still pretty sharp in the air even as he’s gotten disconnected from one machine, drip, or monitor every day until he’s largely free to toddle to the bathroom on his own as long as there’s someone to watch and make sure he doesn’t fall. Wayne’s there for that when he can be, which explains the home associations, but: the rest of the time, in fact—kinda more often than it isn’t?

It’s Steve.

And Eddie struck a deal with himself—no digging in to the fluttery-gooey-warm-chest-squeezy feelings while he’s laid up in a bed—but when he walks around even under supervision, it’s…feeling like he’s cheating.

Plus the feelings are getting kinda…kinda loud.

Because Steve is always there, sometimes he ever stays when Wayne comes, at least for a while. He leaves to keep an eye on the Party, leaves to check up on Max, hits the community hub: but it’s…it’s such a blip of time, honestly, in comparison to being here, with Eddie.

And when he’s gone, it doesn’t…it doesn’t feel at all like home, it feels kinda fucking horrible, so.

Eddie doesn’t even actually have to dig in to that train of thought. It’s pretty fucking clear as-is.

He’s surfacing from kind of, like, a light doze, not even a full on nap, and he’s gentle with the coming-to of it because he can kinda, like, feel Steve’s presence at his side and he’s talking really low anyway, even if he couldn’t, so Eddie definitely knows it’s him, and he could have guessed the other visitor pretty easy even if it wasn’t her voice that was the first to bleed through with actual words:

“She’s,” Robin makes a little stifled whine; “you’ve seen her.”

“Not my type but,” Steve’s saying from next to Eddie; “ I see your point, yeah.”

“She’s like a,” Robin’s voice goes kinda hazy, a little dreamy; “like a fairy creature, or! Or like a prairie woman with those, those hats—“

“A prairie woman who likes boobi—“

“Stop!” Robin hisses low, and Eddie can feel her knock his mattress a little, she must lean over like she wants to enforce her will somehow: “stop stop stop—“

“If you can’t say it you probably shouldn’t be touchin—“ Steve’s saying and god, his voice is so bitching, and Eddie think he kinda fucking lov—

Oh. Oh, well. Shit.

“I’m not touching!” Robin moans, but kinda frantic with it; “the problem is I am not touching!”

And Eddie, too, is not touching the thought he just had about those four fucking letters that are, that, that are—

“Also it’s a gross, immature word,” Robin’s going on and…oh.

Oh.

Okay, so like: even if he’s just kinda in that liminal space of awareness, they have to know he’s more awake than not; his two remaining monitors are different even when he’s calm and just resting, but as the words themselves sink in, now? His heartbeat’s betraying the hell out of him for the staccato it’s pinging on the screen as he processes it: Robin’s showing her cards, though Eddie’d always figured she might be a bird of his feather, but, like—

“Is it though?” Steve’s murmuring low and so, so judgmental; “seems more immature to not say it at all,” and he, he fucking tsks at her, then, and, and—

And then—

Then Steve’s saying words that make no sense at all, like: sure they’re words. In English. Eddie’s very sure of it. So that means he should definitely comprehend them. But…

“You should listen to me, Robs, seriously. I do still like boobies, too. I have insights.”

And Eddie—Eddie’s eyes fly open, he thinks out of shock? That makes the most sense, like he’s startled into full-wakefulness, that tracks as he blinks up at the water-stainer ceiling with his heart in his throat as he tries to find sense in those words, fails, tries again, fucking fails, all as the Corsican Twins cackle over word choice, good god, and then—

“Hey.”

Steve’s grabbing his hand at the wrist and covering it so gently, fucking…cradles it and stories his thumb over the insistent tap of his pulse and meets his eyes, so wide and honest and earnest and if Eddie’s heart wasn’t already primed toward racing it sure as shit would have started just with those eyes on him, and that touch on him, and:

“You okay, man?” and it’s so simple, and Eddie doesn’t fucking know what’s happening on his face, what kind of of shock or terror or something deeper still is seeping from his expression but Steve’s studying him, watching for long seconds that stretch for-fucking-everbefore his jaw squares and his head tiles, something resolute shining through in him and he moves so slowly, lifts Eddie’s hand in his so slowly and Eddie doesn’t even wholly clock what’s happening, let alone that it’s real, as Steve fucking pauses their hands by his lips, so Eddie can feel his breath so warm and he watches, then, waits, and Eddie doesn’t think through what it means when he nods, like it’s not actually a legitimate thought, exactly, he just knows that, that—

Whatever’s happening, and however terrified he thinks he is: he can trust Steve.

Because somehow: Steve’s home.

It’s still fucking earth-shattering when Steve does lean, when his lips brush against the heel of Eddie’s palm, still scrape-covered, and then he reaches just as slow again for Eddie’s cheek to cup, to fucking cradle that, too, and Jesus H. Goddamn Christ—

“You’re safe, Eddie,” is all he says and maybe, maybe Eddie’s reading into it way beyond what he should, but like, it doesn’t feel like Steve’s telling him he’s safe maybe from the lingering threads of a nightmare, or that he’s safe from the government, from the cops, or from the Upside Down coming for them because they all know it’s still fucking coming but Eddie has felt scared of it once, yet, not like this, not here, with—

But Steve’s tone doesn’t just hold that: it’s bigger. He means…

They had to know he wasn’t really asleep, and so, Eddie, Eddie thinks Steve means…

Yeah.

Fuck.

“You’re outta water,” Steve’s saying and Eddie didn’t even notice he’d been reading to pour Eddie a glass from the ever-present pitcher at his bedside then he’s standing, his hand leaving and fuck all if Eddie doesn’t lean into it before he can think twice but Steve just smiles, soft, as he walks out the door.

“We talked about it.”

He turns to Robin almost violently, head kinda snapping her direction with the speed and force he moves with.

“We weren’t gonna hide it from you, but like,” she mashes her lips together, Eddie can see she’s trying to find a way forward with the least possible rambling, but the clearest possible throughway so she can get what she needs to say out, before Steve comes back.

“You shouldn’t feel like you have to,” she hums a little; “be that, you know, open? With us, if you don’t want to,” her eyes are so big and sincere, and Eddie’s pulse is steadying if only slowing by a fraction, but she does help put him at ease, even as she trips a little over the rest: “if you had any thing that was, y’know, kinda private or, something,” she nods to herself and plays with the hem of her shirt: “yeah.”

Eddie nods to himself, and…he can’t, he can’t not ask her, not in this window, because she said they’d talked and if this wasn’t part of it she loves Steve fierce and he could be still a little fresh off death’s door, she’ll still tell him to fuck off if she needs to, so at least there’s that, at least he knows, like, he won’t be allowed to step where he’s not welcome, and—

“I’m,” and fuck, his voice is a mess, he does need a fucking drink but in the absence of one at hand, he clears his throat hard and accepts that consequences of it burning like hell; “he, umm,” Eddie bits his lip and gestures toward the empty door, eyes Robin kinda pitifully: “he said—“

Robin, thank fuck: Robin is merciful, has to see where he’s going, here, and she points to the doorway indicative of who isn’t in it, yet:

“Very both,” she says simply, then point to herself: “very…”

“Boobies?” Eddie suggests and Robin, she just groans.

“Not you too,” and…okay, shit, umm, well—

Eddie… maybe Eddie can be brave. Like, in small doses.

“Actually, ah, I,” he stumbled but then he makes himself take a breath, makes himself try:

“No, not me too,” he says in a rush and looks up at her through his lashes, so fucking vulnerable: “like, very specifically not, me too.”

And she smiles at him so warm and…like, almost welcoming, which is weird but feels, nice? And she pats his arm kinda affectionately and, just—

“Did you decide to take me up on my wisdom so we can actually accept she’s almost definitely into you, and move on to planning your wedding?” Steve slides back in and shuts the door behind him, getting to pouring Eddie some water before he even sits the fuck down.

His fingers brush Eddie’s as he passes it off and, it probably shouldn’t make Eddie all tingly, Steve did kinda kiss his hand? Like, a little?

But that don’t mean shit: Eddie’s all pins and needles and, like, sparkles.

“He’s the only help you’ve got here, Buckley,” Eddie screws his courage up one more time because…because Steve needs to know, too; Eddie wouldn’t put Robin in the position of not knowing whether she can tell her platonic soulmate something, make her keep a secret even by implication but so much bigger that that is, are—

All the things he doesn’t want to poke at, or dig up and examine, that he’s dodging on the excuse of convalescence: all those things taken into account: he trusts Steve. He feels…so much for Steve already, and he feels weirdly sure that whatever happens next, those feelings are only gonna find ways to grow, so—

Steve has to know, not just because Eddie thinks he suspects it, but because Eddie tells him—because it’s….’cause it’s Steve.

“Feels like it’d be foolish not to take the man up on the offer when he’s definitely the expert in the room,” Eddie pushes on, awkward but determined; “seeing as I don’t, umm, know about,” and his eyes flicker to Robin for a second, before they land on Steve to finish:

“About boobies.”

And Steve does say anything, doesn’t look any way save how he’d looked before: calm, and mostly-relaxed, and right next to Eddie, and Eddie’s eyes drop from Steve’s face and find the collar of his shirt, the peak of hair from in between and, shit, shit, he’s talking about tits and then there’s Steve’s chest hair and holy fucking wow he is staring:

“Umm, I mean,” and fucking fuck, now he’s talking—

“Like, not that kind, at least,” and then he forces his eyes down to the sheets over his lap and considers if it’s possible to dissolve into cotton if it’s startchy and uncomfortable as shit, and you happen to be mortified enough to sink into the fucking threads.

But then; then there’s Steve.

Because of fucking course there’s Steve.

And Steve?

Steve takes his cup from him when he could easily have leaned to put it down himself, but then Steve replaces the cup in Eddie’s grip with his own warm hand, like a tether, like a lifeline, like a…

Like a promise.

And when the conversation turns toward strategizing Robin’s approach for Vickie, Eddie’s, he, he just…

He’s home, y’know?

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

[christinarowie332]

“id be a fucking idiot if i said no to that”

matt sturniolo x reader

a smoke session with a pretty boy

warnings: suggestive asf ? droogs ofc . language

____________

i cough for the fourth time tonight .

“bro i thought you were like this stoner chick what’s going on ?” the boy sat opposite me asks , his voice deep with smoke after inhaling .

i regain my composure with teary eyes and sniff my nose while laughing .”your girlfriend grows some serious shit man” i say before coughing again and grabbing my white red bull from the table .

i take a sip and notice the blue eyed boy scrunch his eyebrows in confusion, smirking slightly. “my girlfriend? who said i had a girlfriend?”

“your weed was rolled in pink paper and i’m pretty sure they’re cherry flavored? u either have a girlfriend or you play for the other team” i reply matching his smirk and holding my arm out , gesturing him to pass over the blunt .

he inhaled one more time and passes it over with pinched fingers . he squints his eyes to hold in a cough before exhaling the thick vapor . “my brothers girlfriend gave us all a little hamper each for our birthdays . these were in them . but you are right that’s some serious weed” he laughs over the last sentence, leaning forward and grabbing his root beer .

“ahhh, of course . your matt right , chris’s brother?” i say while snuffing out the now fully smoked blunt and flicking in in a plant pot .

we were sat on a porch in some random kids garden on two opposite benches. i met chris last party me and my friend went to and to be honest i fully forgot about him until now , the whole night was a blur after being cross faded and getting home was a mystery .

“so that’s why you look so familiar!” i continue, slumping back in my chair and crossing my legs .

he mirrors my actions , leaning back and adjusting himself slightly thrusting his groin and man spreading . i watch him do this before realizing where i’m looking and quickly meet his gaze . his eyebrow twitched at this and smirked , noticing my gaze and huffs a laugh from his nose .

i take a deep breath to compose myself as i feel a rush of blood travel to my face and other places . “anyway , your brother seemed nice enough, his girlfriend too .” i say to try and diminish the growing tension.

“he didn’t mention you , somehow” he says eyeing me up and down , looking at my baggy low waisted cargos , then to my low cut long sleeve cropped sweater . his eyes not meeting for my own as his glare lingers like the smoke around us .

i shift slightly under his gaze , he notices and meets my eyes , pupils blown out and heavy from the high we both start to feel . the light blue i was becoming accustomed to ,shifting next to the pinkish tones . making them swim with lust.

“so you uh..” i clear my throat in anxiety , “you didn’t specify ?”

his face shifts from a calm and cold expression to a now confused one .

i take his silence as a hint and continue.

“u got a girlfriend?”

he smirks at this , tongue pressed to the inside of his mouth “i don’t no” he says quietly. his voice low and hourse

“play for the other team?” i tease raising eyebrows and leaning forward in challenge

“i’ll leave that to my brother nick” also leaning forward , not being intimidated and honestly intrigued as to where this is going .

i hum in response. leaning back because unlike him, i am extremely intimidated.

he shifts his body to the edge of his chair and leans over the table separating us . staring at it for a while seemingly fighting with his own thoughts. he hesitates for a moment before pushing himself off the chair and walking around the table towards me .

i watch as he does this , my heart racing slightly as he plops down next to me .

we both put an elbow on the back of the bench we now share . angling our bodies towards each other .

“i didn’t get your name?” he asks leaning back slightly and smiling .

“it’s y/n” i reply , tilting my head and smiling .

i could smell his cologne, mixed with the mint and weed on his breath as he whispers while leaning forward towards me. “your uh …” he hesitates trying to pick a respectful word to use , even though the thoughts he was having was far from it “your very pretty y/n.” he says while moving a piece of my hair behind my ear .

my breath hitches at his touch and i side eye his hand as it moves to the side of my head . the warm lighting highlighting the shadows from his veins .

i couldn’t think of a response , my body tensing up at his words and ceaseless touch . he enjoys the sight of me nervous and drops his hand to my thigh, running it upwards to my pocket .

in a trance i miss as he grabs the lighter that’s hanging out of said pocket and holds it up to my face . before grabbing another joint from his own pocket with a crooked teasing smile.

i roll my eyes and shake my head slightly before speaking. “wanna shot gun?” i ask with a raised eyebrow

his head snaps towards me . “i’d be a fucking idiot if i said no to that”

i snatched the joint and lighter from his hands , before lighting the rolled plant and chucking the lighter to the side .

i get up from my seat . feeling a surge of confidence and deciding to match his energy. “it’s better if i do this” i said before straddling his lap and adjusting myself on him .at the sudden movement he flinches and his eyes shoot to mine . widely in warning.

i’m the one smirking now knowing exactly what i’m doing before inhaling the blunt , taking a long drag not breaking the eye contact. i put my arm holding the joint out to side and putting my free hand on his jaw . i tilt his head up before closing the distance and blowing the smoke into his mouth .

he keeps the eye contact still , never looking away , but tilting his head upwards , exhaling the smoke and biting down on his bottom lip agains a smile threatening to form .

we stay looking at each other for a few seconds before he grabs the joint out my fingers , licking his own and snuffing out the half lit end . his teeth flash as he hissed at the pain. he throws the joint to the floor and looks back at me grabbing the side of my face .

“fuck that” is all i hear from his lips before they’re smashed onto mine . all most immediately it turned into a heavy makeout , him moving from kissing my face down to my neck. i throw my head back and move my hips on him slightly . his teeth graze my neck at the movement. his hand moves from my face , against my neck, his thumb pressing down on my throat slightly and a his other hand running from the back of my neck , down my back, to my ass . lifting me with the movement .

after a good few minutes we both pull away to get our breath , and to slow down the pace as neither of us felt like getting caught doing anything more then kissing on some random guys patio .

his nose was red and lips swollen . hair messily plastered to his forehead and raised at the back from my needy tugging .

“your number”he whispers breathlessly , nodding his head messily .

“what?” i say as out of breath as him , tilting it .

“i need your fucking number , and i need to do this again”

—————

HEHEHEHHEHEGGEHEGGEGE

god he’s so hot

🤍🤍🤍

taglst/bbgs

@mangosrar @jcwrites-blog @sssturniolofart @soursturniolo @sturnphilia @daddyslilchickenfingers @def-livv @urmyslxt @littlebookworm803

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i am literally in shock from how many people are likeing my shit right now you are all the sweetest people ever . love every single one of your with all my heart .