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buckyalpine · 6 months ago

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Actor Bucky x civilian reader

I’m feeling angsty. Fluffy. Just a thought. But like a long thought.

You should have known this would happen eventually.

You knew you should have put your phone down and gone to sleep hours ago. Scrolling through social media did nothing to ease you mind as you stared at the 100′s of posts that showed Bucky whispering in her ear with a boyish smile. A sickly feeling spread from your chest, up your neck and to your cheeks, the type of heat that made your throat constrict and your eyes burn. The lump in your throat was painful to swallow, blinking back tears when you clicked on a video that had been shot by the paparazzi and leaked to the press, all the news outlets having a field day with brand new pics of a budding Hollywood romance.

“Well, there you have it folks! Looks like Winter is warming up over here, stay tuned for more updates”

“Single no more? Things steam up on the set of The Winter Soldier”

“Swipe to get a sneak peak on the hottest new romance everyone’s excited about”

You wanted to throw your phone across the room, instead keeping your eyes locked on the way your boyfriend was cozied up with his co-star, the two of them seemingly giggling over an inside joke while taking a break between shoots. Her face was practically tucked into his neck while he laughed, both of them apparently blissfully unaware someone was watching.

The image turned blurry from unshed tears, squeezing your eyes shut, turning your phone off all together. Your deepest insecurities reared their ugly head, thinking about Bucky’s effortlessly gorgeous co-star with her tall and slim build with curves in the right places. They looked like a dream couple; both attractive with obvious chemistry on screen and based on the “leaked photos”, in real life as well. Every single fear you had over the last few weeks were proved to be true with a few viral pictures.

Bucky groaned, silencing his phone after getting yet another unknown caller asking him if he’d care to comment on the latest headline about him and the lead actress in his upcoming movie. He ran his hand over his face seeing the way social media blown up overnight after someone had taken pictures taken out of context making it look like he was smitten and in love. His PR team insisted that a few candid shots would be good for promoting the movie and great for his image; when he agreed to having hired paparazzi's take a few “spontaneous” pictures, he thought it would be pictures with the whole cast; not just suggestive close up shots with his co-star that appeared intimate.

Great.

He’d tried to call you repeatedly, every single one going straight to voicemail and all his texts unanswered. It had been a days since the new broke out and nothing had died down. Bucky hated that he was miles away from you, unable to even send anyone to check on you after you both agreed to keep the relationship a secret. The only person in his life who knew was his best friend, Steve, who was also on set. You’d been so understanding of his career, you hadn’t told a soul to make sure nothing ever leaked. Bucky knew you were used to a few rumors popping up every now and then about him and a potential new girlfriend but this was the first time there was photo evidence.

New stories popped up like weeds.

The last straw for him was when he spotted a magazine cover talking about his upcoming wedding and speculation over if there was a secret child on the way.

He couldn’t care less about PR or the movie anymore. A text to the director later, he was in his car driving off straight to you, carefully weaving through traffic while making a pitstop with his best disguise of a hat and sunglasses before speeding off once more.

You sighed at the new stories that were still being posted on your social media feed, locking your phone once more to go back to the book you were reading. You’d ignored all of Bucky's attempts to reach out, choosing to spend less time on your phone, already drowning in insecurities and doubt. You took out a bunch of books from the library and spent more time the kitchen hoping anything would help take your mind off of the love of your life having an affair with another woman.

The sound of the doorbell pulled you away from your book; you weren’t expecting anyone and it wasn’t usual for any of your friends to stop by in the middle of the afternoon. You were going to ignore it, thinking it was probably someone attempting to sell you something but-

“Y/n, doll I know you’re home, it’s me baby”

Oh.

Your felt your stomach drop. Heart beating so fast, you could feel your veins tremble in your finger tips. He rang the bell again in hopes that you’d even hit him, smack him, happy to take it, anything to at least see you again. Your emotions swarmed all over the place, anxiety, anger, love, all of it fighting for dominance while you stayed glued to your spot on the couch.

Asshole.

But that was your Jamie.

Dick.

But you loved him with your whole heart.

“Babygirl” Bucky pleaded outside of your door, realizing the giant teddy that was 4 times his size and flower bouquet of 100 red roses did nothing to keep him discreet. “Sweetheart, please let me explain”

You reluctantly opened the door, more worried that if someone saw Bucky at your door, a crowd of fans would end up swarming the area. If not for all the other emotions you were feeling, you almost giggled at the sight of a very wide, puppy eyed Bucky holding a stuffy that was larger than him and a bouquet of flowers that nearly covered his face. You wordlessly stepped out of the way while he dragged the comically large bear into the living room, placing the roses in its caramel fuzzy paws before turning to you.

You.

His pretty doll.

He could see your eyes were still puffy from nights of crying. Your lips were glossy from the balm you used when they were chapped after you’d nervously chew on them. Your poor little nose he loved to boop and kiss so much looked dry from how much you sniffled. Those gorgeous eyes he loved to stare into refused to even look at him, looking at your fluffy sock clad feet instead. You were still wearing a large hoodie of his but you probably hadn’t noticed when you slipped it on.

Bucky hated it.

His poor precious doll was so hurt all because of a stupid PR stunt.

“Baby” You stood rigid as Bucky stepped towards you, his hand coming to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin, “Those pictures, they were taken out of context darling, they weren’t meant to come out like that-

“Then how were they meant to come out” You frowned, moving away till Bucky’s hand dropped, a sad sigh leaving his lips.

“The team-they thought a few random, candid pictures would garner some publicity to get people talking. I thought they’d post pictures of everyone together, not just me and her”

“That doesn’t explain why you were so close to her” You fidgeted with the long sleeve of the hoodie, this time letting Bucky reach out to hold your hands though you left them limp while he gently squeezed them. “So that was all you then? That’s even worse Bucky”

“No baby, no” Bucky frantically shook his head, pulling you closer with his hands now on your waist, “I pushed her away the second she got too close but apparently finding your co-star insufferable isn’t good PR. I looked irritated in all the other pictured so they didn’t use them. I promise baby, I’d never do anything to hurt you. I know I did and I’m so sorry, doll”

While a part of you believed him, the other part of you couldn’t digest the fact that the rest of the world still thought they were a dream couple. It shouldn’t have mattered. But it did. You didn’t even want to begin to imagine the headlines that would pop up if the public saw you with Bucky. You couldn’t scrub the image away of how perfect they looked together, feeling frumpy and awkward in comparison.

“I can’t be like her Bucky” You struggled to keep your voice steady, not willing to cry in front of someone who clearly could do better even if he looked like he was ready to fall on his knees for you.

And then he did.

“Y/n, I don’t want you to be her. Or anyone else, I want you” Bucky looked at you with pleading eyes, taking your hands in his and kneeling, pressing his lips to your knuckles.

“But no one else thinks I deserve you. I thought I’d be okay with you maintaining a single image, I know it’s important for your career but I-I can’t watch interviews with people talking about how perfect you look with someone else, how you both look so in love-

“I’m done”

“What?” Your heart stopped, your hands shaking wondering if done meant he was done dealing with your worries, your insecurities, done with you-

“You’re the one I want. Not anyone else. I couldn’t care less about what others think baby, not when it’s hurting you so much. I want people to know who I’m in love with”

“But-

“If you’re not comfortable with it, I understand. But I don’t want to hide you anymore angel. Never again”

Movie Premier

You swallowed thickly, your heart beating out of your chest, fidgeting with the gown you had been dressed in, nervously twirling the ring on your finger. The limo came to a halt, the driver opening the door to a sea of screaming and cheers, a plush red carpet ready for you to step onto.

“Ready, princess?” Bucky grinned, stepping out of the limo and reaching his hand out for you to take, helping you step out of the car. You gasped at the flashes of cameras and shrieks of fans coming from all sides, everyone trying to get Bucky’s and your attention.

“James! Over here! Who is your date for the night?”

“Miss! Miss!”

“Over there, darling”, Bucky whispered in your ear while you smiled at a different set of photographers, each of them clambering over another to get the best picture of you both.

“Could you step over here please, great, now one with the young lady, beautiful, James, one more!”

Bucky simply smiled and nodded, keeping his hand around your waist, guiding you down the red carpet and stopping for more pictures along the way. He skillfully avoided the reporters who called for him, keeping a protective grip around you as you both entered the hall to get seated. Hardly moments later, headlines had already started spreading everywhere, your phone blowing up with messages from friends and family wondering if they were seeing the news articles correctly:

James Barnes steps out with Mystery woman

Secret lover? James Barnes shocks fans with his premier date

10 things we know about James’s girlfriend

You giggled at the numerous posts that started to pop up on social media, your heart fluttering at the beautiful pictures of Bucky looking at you with heart eyes in every single one. There wasn’t one where he was looking anywhere else, focused on you the entire time and clearly people had noticed. You couldn’t help but feel warm and fuzzy at the comments people left, silencing all the doubts you had in your mind.

Get you a man that looks at you the way he looks at her

No wonder he was hiding her, shes gorgeous

I love him but like can someone tell me who SHE is?!

Look at him, he looks like an absolute puppy around her

She’s perfect for him, they’re babies are gonna be BEAUTIFUL

There goes my chance. I can’t even be mad cause he looks so happy and they look so cute

“What you reading there, baby” Bucky kissed your shoulder, peering over to see what you were looking at on your phone before slipping it away into your clutch. He smirked, sneakily nipping your ear lobe making you gasp before continuing to whisper in your ear. “They’re right you know. You look so beautiful baby, gonna rip this dress off as soon as we get to the hotel room”

��You can’t rip it Bucky, I have to give it back-” You hissed but he wasn’t having any of it, his hand moving to squeeze your thing, grazing your skin from the slit on the dress.

“I’ll pay for it. But you’re right, I won’t rip it. We’re keeping it, I wanna fuck you all type of ways in that-

“Oh my god” You hushed him with a peck to his devilish lips, your face hot while he gave you a smug smile. He couldn’t wait for the news that would go wild in the next few months.

James Barnes proposes to long time girlfriend, y/n y/l/n

Ready to tie the knot? James and fiancée spotted at wedding venue

Welcome Mr. and Mrs. Barnes!

James and y/n fly to the Amalfi coast for Honeymoon

Happy Anniversary to Hollywood's favorite couple

Baby bump or food baby? Y/n Barnes steps out in oversized hoodie for a late night food run

Baby Barnes on the way?

Double trouble? James reveal’s he and his wife are expecting twins

y/n Barnes posts first pictures of babies and they couldn’t be cuter

Bucky couldn’t wait.

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sectumsempraaa · 14 days ago

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More Than a Gut Feeling

Pairing: soulmate!Theo Nott x fem!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Based on this request! :)

TW: none, just unlawful amounts of fluff

Featuring: Theo, Draco, Mattheo, Pansy, Lorenzo, Blaise

Summary: Transferring schools in your fifth year is overwhelming enough. But when you find yourself seemingly tethered to a Slytherin boy, you start to wonder… Did you come to Hogwarts by choice? Or did someone lead you here?

“And there was fog, and dust, and all I could see was this hand reaching out for me-”

“Bloody hell Theo, please, we get it. You smoked before bed and had trippy dreams,” Pansy complains, cutting him off from his hazy explanation. She turns to you and rolls her eyes, expressing her disdain.

It’s a typical Monday breakfast in the Great Hall for the Slytherin lads, except they have you now. They’ve recently (and graciously) taken you under their wing after you transferred schools in your fifth year.

Though you’re still adjusting to your surroundings at Hogwarts, your new friends have made the transition easier.

“I didn’t smoke before bed, bastardo,” he replies, lunging slightly towards her in annoyance.

Your eyes linger on Theo for a moment, his dream piquing your interest for some reason. There’s something about it that feels… familiar.

But you shake it off as deja vu in order to move past it. The last thing you want right now is to stand out amongst your new peers.

It’s only been a week since you arrived, but the connection you have with Theodore is unlike the others, and they are starting to notice.

Like when you first met, and the both of you were each holding a hardcover copy of your mutual favorite poetry book.

And a couple days later, when you turned your head to greet him as he was several yards behind you in the hallway, before he even called your name.

And yesterday, when you watched him win the first quidditch match you’d seen because the golden snitch hovered over you the entire time.

“I wish I could remember my dreams like that,” you respond, adding a touch of understanding to the conversation.

Theo’s head turns in the direction of your soft voice, like his gaze is attached to it somehow.

Blaise looks between the two of you, eyebrows raised in suspicion.

Suddenly and smoothly, Mattheo nudges you with his elbow and leans in close to your ear.

“If you dreamt of me, you would.” He smirks, laughing to himself and earning a light smack on the chest from Lorenzo. You notice Theo’s expression turn a smidge darker, something new looming in his eyes.

Lorenzo comments. “You really do ruin everything. You’re like, the king of ruining everything.”

Draco scoffs at Mattheo’s quip and places his hands on the table to signify that it’s time to leave for class. “Come on, Mattheo. Let’s not traumatize the new girl.”

Draco throws an apologetic glance your way.

“Please don’t listen to this child.” He spits out the last few words with haste.

When you look at Theo, you find him still staring at you with a hint of wonder and confusion.

You blush, feeling the crimson warmth spreading from one cheek to another. You reach down to grab your bag and make your way to potions class with the rest of the group.

—

Today’s lesson is, surprisingly, something you’ve already learned at your previous school. And thank the gods, because something about Theo’s dream has your attention caught like a fly in a web.

You imagine his vision, the fog and the reaching. You look down to your own hand, your brows furrowing as you continue to rack your brain. The longer you look at your hand, the more convinced you are that…

No. You just met him a week ago… there’s no way.

But that’s not it. It’s the other dreams he’s mentioned in the past few days, too. One where he’s at Durmstrang looking for someone, another where he’s trying to find them on the Hogwarts Express, but he doesn’t know who he’s following.

Who he’s looking for.

You can’t help but compare them to your own dreams, strikingly, eerily similar.

You recount images of them, scouring through empty train cabins and following the sound of alluring footsteps in your former school.

A tug on your ponytail pulls you out of your distraction, the slight pain guiding your stare. A sea of giggles spreads through the class as you watch Professor Snape’s hand return to his side.

“Miss Y/L/N, I suspect you were the potions teacher at Durmstrang with the way you ignore my curriculum.” Snape retorts, his stern voice closer than you were expecting.

But one particular laugh catches your ears, the corners of your mouth turning up at the sound of it. Your eyes land on Theo, and something about his expression makes your heart skip a beat.

“Tsk tsk, bella,” He whispers, and you bite your lip in response, turning back to your textbook as that damn blush creeps back onto your face.

There’s no denying how unfathomably handsome this man is when he smiles at you, because of you.

Your desk partner, Draco, looks to Theo and then back to you in bewilderment.

“I can never get him to joke around like that,” He says to you. “I’ll be damned if he fancies you more than me already.”

You smile back to Draco, returning the playful demeanor. “Oh, I bet he just adores you.” You respond loud enough so Theo can hear behind you.

You don’t have to turn around to see the bashful smirk on Theo’s face.

—

That night, you toss and turn more than usual. A wild dream keeps you trapped in slumber, unable to relinquish you from it until your roommate, Pansy, physically shakes you awake.

“I’m right here, you oaf!” Pansy yells, her hands squeezing your shoulders as you urgently sit up in bed.

“What? What are you doing? Why are you yelling?” You ask, genuinely lost. The beads of sweat trickle down your temple.

“You don’t remember just now when you were asking ‘Where are you?’ a thousand times in your own sleep?” She responds, her eyes widening with each word.

And then it hits you, the images of your dream. That laugh, a gentle breeze, and a-

“Paper crane?” Pansy asks, looking down into your lap with eyes like headlights.

You slowly look down, afraid to reveal to yourself what lays in your grasp. In your palm is a small, crumpled paper crane. Your baffled stare freaks her out, her hands retracting from your sides.

“What the filthy fuck is that?!” Pansy yells, but her voice sounds quite distant to you as you try desperately to get a hold on reality.

But you know. You know what this is, and you know how you got it. Accepting this fact is like swallowing glass.

“I brought something out of my dream,” you whisper, your breath picking up in pace and weight. The thought is sending you reeling, your brain suddenly racing yet devoid at the same time, unwilling to connect the dots.

“How is this even possible?” You ask yourself.

Pansy continues rambling on, asking you endless questions.

But you can’t seem to shake the idea that this item didn’t exist before you fell asleep last night.

—

After long deliberation, and a real pull back to reality, you manage to get yourself dressed and out the door. But the mental picture of this thing takes up most of the space in your mind that day, haunting you each time you think of it.

It’s not until Divination class, your last period, that things somehow become even more unsettling.

Professor Trelawney begins a lesson about the influence of dreams in real life and the messages they can send to the dreamer.

“Dreams, they can be so powerful. They can point you in specific directions, impact your decisions, make you see the truth.”

Her shakey, ominous voice echoes through your head, her words bouncing off the walls of your skull as you feel around in your pocket for the mysterious object. When you feel the edges of the paper graze your skin, you gently pull it out and place it on the corner of your desk.

From the table over, Theo absentmindedly observes you, your movement guiding his trailing eyes. He sees the object in front of you, but it takes him a second to register what it is, that curious little thing.

He squints, then performs a stunning double take. And when he’s finally able to identify it…

Everything changes.

“Oh… my… god…” Theo whispers, his heart dropping into his stomach like an anchor. His body goes into a state of utter disbelief and stillness. His eyes piercing white and his face ghostly pale as he struggles to grasp the scene in front of him.

Mattheo notices Theo’s knuckles white against the desk and chimes in to check on his friend.

“Mate, you alright? You look like Enzo after a Friday night at the Three–”

But before Mattheo can finish asking, Theo suddenly stands up and gains the attention of everyone in class by the sound of his bench skidding backwards on the floor.

Professor Trelawney’s gaze shifts from Theo to you as she locates the focus point of his unrelenting stare. She offers to take him to the infirmary as he looks “unwell.”

But Theo shakes his head, places his hand over his heart, and silently dashes out of the classroom.

Pansy’s head slowly turns to you with a look of complete perplexity.

“Better go check on Rome, new girl,” she mutters under her breath, referencing Theo’s hometown. She gestures her head in the direction of the door.

You nod hesitantly, soon following in his footsteps and ignoring any questions from your teacher.

—

When you make it to the hallway, you find Theo pacing back and forth, his hand still placed over his heart as if to stop it from exploding. But when he sees you, it only gets more difficult.

You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off before you can even inhale.

“Where in seven hells did you get that paper crane?!” He asks, stopping in his tracks. The conversation continues in bouts of interrupting each other.

“Theodore, I-”

“Don’t call me that, that’s not what you call me in-”

“In what?”

“In my-”

Then a pause. A tense, incredible pause. A stare down.

He continues. “Nothing, it’s mind numbingly mad,”

You take a step towards him, but something in your chest suddenly becomes achingly heavy. In response, you place a hand over your heart, just like Theo is.

In your free hand, you unfold your fingers to reveal the paper crane. His eyes land on it, the shock of it still trapping every fiber of his being.

“You…” you start, the weight in your chest transforms from a brick to a block of anvil with each word.

When you’re within arms length of each other, he manages to reach out, the struggle evident on his face. He fights to finish your sentence for you.

“Made this. Gave this… to you, last night.” He explains, his voice dragging as you notice his hand now gripping his shirt in a fist from the sheer pain in his chest.

“Theo… I think we aren’t dreaming of each other,” you suggest, taking time to breathe between thoughts. The weight on your heart is now seemingly unbearable.

“We’re dreaming with each other,” you say, and just as you finish the thought, Theo’s fingers touch the paper crane in your hand, a graze that feels like lightning.

And just then, as the object fuses the touch of two destined souls, a small clad of thunder emits from between you that only you two can hear. The pains in your chests implode, a knee-dropping sensation of light and warmth replacing it.

Like dynamite in your hearts.

“Bella,” Theo’s hoarse voice is laced with a sincerity that sounds like liquid gold to your ears. There’s no way to describe the feeling inside you right now, this fantastic blend of energies and desires.

The only thing you do know is that it’s burning at both ends, like a charring rope.

“I think… I was meant to find you, cara mia. Gods I sound mental,” he shakes his head, embarrassment written all over his face. To his surprise, he finds your hand gently caressing his cheek, guiding his gaze back to yours.

“Then maybe we both need to visit the infirmary, because I’ve only just arrived here and for some reason I can’t fathom a minute away from you.”

Relief washes over him as he drinks in your words, and the stunning sight of you confessing the very same sentiment he, too, harbors.

Your heart rate quickens as you feel an arm snake around your lower back, out of your line of sight. This feels strangely comfortable, like you’ve felt it for a lifetime already.

“Y/N…” he beckons, his forehead dropping to rest on yours. “I can’t ask you to be mine, because I think someone, or something, else already decided that.” He jokes, the huff from his laugh hitting your face.

The sight of both your smiles is what shifts everything into place. Everything, all at once. And then, your fists are the ones gripping his shirt, pulling his lips onto yours.

The paper crane falls to the ground between you as your lips move against each other, his hands exploring your back like they’re hunting for treasure. The magnitude of this kiss surpasses any other you’ve shared in the past.

Chills run up and down your body, like it’s finally found its home. Its match. His fingers grasp your hair lightly, keeping you in place as he kisses you with vigor.

He pulls away, looking at you like you’re his most prized possession.

“You’re more than a gut feeling, tesoro.” He confesses, earning another kiss from you. This one feels like an aftershock, the aftermath of the impact of your newfound, yet momentous intimacy.

You nod your head in understanding, barely able to form a coherent sentence at the moment.

“Did you… feel that, Theo?” You question, sending a glimmer of hope his way.

“Yes, like… fireworks?” He asks back. He takes your hand and places it on his chest once again, and you swear you could feel the butterflies erupting from inside.

Behind you, a mess of rushed footsteps make their entrance, accompanied by a couple of stern voices.

“These two, I swear…” Blaise complains, shaking his head and catching his breath.

“What in the Merlin-loving fuck is going on here?” Lorenzo sneers, his expression a mix of urgency and frustration.

But you two never broke that stare, that ruthless, solid stare. Instead you beam at each other as you scramble to put the answer into words.

“Fireworks.”

—

That night, you wander the grounds of Hogwarts together as Mattheo, Draco, and Pansy watch you from the Astronomy Tower. The three of them convene to discuss.

“You reckon she used a love potion?” Mattheo suggests, earning another smack on the arm.

“No, you bloody fool. They’re like, tethered or something.” She attempts to convey the notion to the boys, but they just don’t get it.

“Are we tethered then, doll?” Draco jokingly asks Pansy.

“In your dreams, mate.” Mattheo responds, taking a drag from his cigarette. She responds while picturing the paper crane she found in your lap that one fated morning last week.

“You’d be surprised how accurate that is.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #theodore nott #slytherin #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theo nott #theodore nott x you #theo fic #theo fluff #theo fanfic

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runningupthatvecna · 1 month ago

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get the peach(es)

bestfriend!eddie munson x reader

it's the day after chrissy got vecna'd and you and the gang decide to check up on eddie at rick's. he's still in so much distress that you can't help but selflessly stay with your best friend (who you've been harboring a crush on for quite some time) and keep him company. 6k words, not proofread.

cw: the good old friends to lovers trope, eddie is an anxious bean who just needs to be held (by you, ideally), mutual (and not so secret at all) pining, i wrote this with fem!reader in mind (she/her pronouns) but can also be read as gn i guess, fluff, hurt/comfort (for eddie), pet names, mentions of chrissy's death, there shall be kisses and a lot of softness. nothing too explicit but minors are still advised to LEAVE

a/n: totally not self indulgent, that scene of him being so terrified in 4x02 ripped me to shreds so this is my fix-it attempt, trying to still my need to hold him and scratch his head. disclaimer: this piece of writing is based on the ending of that episode, meaning all credits for the setting go to the respective writers. sources to the header images here, here and here. lovely divider by saradika. ok thank you so much for reading byeeee love y'all <3

–––––

The overwhelming need to befriend the satanic metalhead found you at that party at the Wheeler house. You had almost said no to Nancy when she invited you, knowing damn well how the night would end. Steve passed out with a girl on his lap, Robin silently pining after Vickie from some corner of the room while clinging onto the red plastic cup in her hand, Jonathan getting higher than a kite with his old school mates, the younger kids asking you every five minutes if you could give them a ride since you usually were the one staying sober.

Additionally this time, there would be Eddie Munson. This familiar stranger Dustin, Mike and Lucas had met and somehow befriended over the last months, due to them joining his DnD club. "He might come off as a bit intimidating ... but I promise he's super chill and easy going!", Mike had tried to convince his sister, poking the tip of her shoulder repeatedly with a bunch of pleases during lunch break in the editing room of the school's newspaper. Until she rolled her eyes theatrically and agreed to let the ambiguous stranger, which the whole town collectively perceived as not really fitting in (and who you both certainly knew under the not so chill reputation he carried around), attend the celebratory events at Casa Wheeler. Occasion: Karen, Ted and their youngest leaving the house for more than one day, off on vacation.

You'd always kinda stayed out of his ways, used to observe his antics back at school with a silent laugh and this .. intrigue poking at your guts. To you he always stood out, and if anyone asked you'd be hesitant to admit it, but his willingness to go against the flow and not conform to the acceptable standards set by society was honestly impressive. And besides, surely this whole mysterious drug dealer rockstar image must just be a fassade and deep down he's just a dork, right?

His eyes follow you through the living room, an echo of your name crossing his mind repeatedly after having pulled Dustin into a corner for a brief interrogation. He finds it endearing how quickly and almost bashfully you look away every time your curious gaze meets his. As you redirect your focus to the conversation you're becoming engaged in, there's a soft smile creeping onto your lips. Little did he know it would soon start to haunt him in his dreams at night.

"Anything specific you're looking for?"

God, his voice. The close proximity invites your nose to inhale a mix of fresh cigarette smoke, bergamot and sandalwood, allowing you to sense what can only be him standing behind you as you skim through the cabinets of the Wheeler kitchen. You turn your head for your eyes to confirm your assumption and what they find is the deepest brown of round baby cow eyes they've ever met, up so much closer now. The paring of his gaze and plush smile somehow manages to dissolve every little prejudice you've been involuntarily harboring about him. Eddie Munson, the town's freak. Prime reason for the existence of the satanic panic. Drugs. And then you realise that you should probably do the polite thing and give him an answer. "Yeah uh, I was just trying to find the peach syrup", holding his gaze with a small lopsided smile, lost in its warmth which you wouldn't have dared to expect from it, before facing away from him again. He snorts a little, "peach syrup?", pauses to bring a thumb to his upper lip, lightly scratching the skin above as if to wipe something away, before he removes it again and the dimples appear around the corners of his mouth, "that is oddly specific." His response spreads a smile over your face, and the next thing he says widens it, "looks like you have taste though."

You move one step to the side, about to investigate the insides of the next cabinet, the kitchen itself almost empty of people with only three others chatting away in the corner across the island. He follows, undoubtedly trying to stay close, and the heat from the fire he just ignited somewhere inside of you rises to your cheeks. "Thanks, I really like peaches. Especially in my drinks. It adds a little ... kick to my sobriety", you explain, Eddie now quirks an amused eyebrow paired with a lopsided smile at you, and as you get to the last cabinet it dawns on you (and also Eddie) that this household severely lacks peach syrup. An atrocity. Thanks Ted.

After he helped you rummage through the entirety of the kitchen without success but under a lot of small talk, the metalhead vanishes from the function for an hour or so. At least that's what your brain concludes when your vision fails to spot him among the people who are in attendance. Maybe he's selling out of Nancy's bedroom. Maybe he's puking up his insides in the bathroom because he had too much of that weird beer he's been downing all night. Maybe he's banging some random girl in the bathroom upstairs. Or summoning a demon. Or both. At the same time. You once again try focusing your attention back to the conversation you are involved in. Munson already feels so dear to you that the lack of his presence is starting to form an ache in your heart. It's tugging on those strings with how much you already want him near you. Yeah. You're gonna be in trouble with this one.

And then he stumbles into the room from the direction of the front door, an event you're totally unable (and unwilling) to miss. He doesn't look like he just puked, nor sold a whole lot of the stash since you notice it still bulging out the left ass pocket of his black jeans. Instead, as he pushes past the small groups of people socialising – and towards you – while you notice a red net of round fruits dangling from his right hand, and you start to think that his disheveled hair and that rosy tint on his cheeks might actually not be from shagging either. He meets your gaze again as he approaches you with a grin and your heart dares to swell at his attentive gesture (you think you might as well pass away on the spot).

"Have some, peach."

It's not syrup, but you'll take them anyway. And with your next drink, you swallow down not only that peachy sweetness on your tongue, but also whatever this tingly feeling in your chest is.

"Chchhrhch.."

Pause.

"Hey, uh– chrhchhr.."

Silence in your bedroom, the only thing illuminating the space is the moonlight softly falling through the window.

"Chrch– a-are you there?"

You stirr awake from dozing off in your bed, trying to piece together the information your senses are giving you.

Eyes gone dry, you have to blink a few times. Figure out which year it is and so on.

Confusion lies between the static crackle for a moment. That nap after your shift at the diner was necessary. God, you need to fucking quit.

"No I'm sure she'll pick right up, just– hey pleeease b-be awake, goddamn it!–"

Is it already past midnight?

You don't know and you can't tell, the clock on your nightstand still broken. What you do know though is that the familiar voice belongs to your friend Dustin and it's desperately trying to get ahold of you.

They must have found him.

"Dustin? I copy, where are you? What's going on?", you finally grab the device from the nightstand, fully awake and aware of your surroundings now.

You need to know. If he's okay.

There's that all too familiar instant tingle in your chest again, an ache that made itself familiar to you for the first time when he was introduced to you at the one and only Wheeler party several months ago. The dungeon master of Hawkins High's Hellfire club, the lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin and a super chill and easy going guy, to put it in Mike Wheeler's words.

What you didn't expect back then was your heart starting to develop that feeling, that tingle you'd always get to feel when you were in his presence, or like now, when his name is threatening to spill from your friend's lips on the other side of the connection at any moment.

"Aha! See? I told you she'd respond in no time."

You can practically feel Dustin's shit eating grin through the frequency, basking in being correct over Steve Harrington once again. It never gets old between these two.

"Oh my god", Steve's muffled voice is what you can make out vaguely from the off, he's probably palming his face.

"Dustin!", your voice disappears into the device, and your impatience grows with every passing second, hoping he gets the hint.

There's the sound of a door falling shut, leaves rustling under shoes, he must be outside now.

"Alright, okay yeah, so we found him at Rick's and he's really upset and he's been asking for you. I know it's late but can you meet us out here? And maybe, uh, stay with him?"

It's not even worth questioning. You're already wearing shoes. Your biggest hoodie in tow, you stumble into your kitchen with the intention to raid your own snack drawer. Pulling out Eddie's favourite, which you of course had stocked up on ever since hanging out with him at your place had become more of a weekly routine for the both of you.

Ten minutes, you told him. You'd be there in ten.

The drive feels like forever. The longest ten minutes of your life, you think.

You know the route like the back of your hand, having driven along the gravelly road leading from the last intersection before Hawkins' border to the outer world, to the serene woods surrounding Lover's Lake countless times. Eddie would take you here ever so often, for picnics, an occasional smoke after picking up a new delivery from Rick's, cloud or star gazing, listening to Metallica and Tears for Fears on Wayne's old walkman.

The gravel crunches underneath your white reeboks as they land on the ground. You close the door to your car as quietly as possible after you've taken out the bag and your hoodie.

Dustin and Steve are stood outside the boathouse, waving like madmen in the darkness once you come into their periphery.

The younger boy hugs you tightly.

"So glad you could make it", he gets out, the relief palpable through his voice as well as the grip he holds you in for a brief moment.

You look at them both after Steve presses you against him cordially, and breathe out through your nose, making your nostrils flare.

Dustin cracks open the case to you as he starts to ramble about the state in which they found your best friend, "well first he attacked Steve with a broken bottle, we had to put in great effort to convince him that we'd be on his side, and we came to the conclusion that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, basically."

What you want right now goes without saying. Everyone here knows how close you and Eddie are. As friends, of course. No one would think anything different.

Without wasting another second, the boys lead you inside where Max and Robin are knelt on the wooden floor. Heads turning towards the entrance of the room where you're now standing.

The sight of what's offered to your eyes, sitting opposite of them, breaks your heart.

You can see that he's slightly shivering, eyes glassy in the dim lit room. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips though once his brain grasps your presence, and he can't help anymore but let the water fall once his eyes lock with yours.

The pain that is swimming in those two deep warm brown oceans hits you like a dagger to the chest. Over the months of being friends with him you'd seen him various different states, none of them comparable to this.

"Peach", his shaky voice announces your arrival and the sound of your nickname spilling from his lips cracks through your bones. The bag that's slung around your shoulder drops onto the wood with a dull thud.

Wobbly legs carry him towards you with a gentle shove past Robin and Max. You're once again reminded of your best friend's sheer physical strength as he wraps his arms around you, instantly burying his face into the crook of your neck.

One arm of your own sneaks around his torso, pressing him against you as tightly as your own strength allows you, while your other hand comes up to bury itself underneath the mane and to end up scratching soothingly over the scalp above the nape of his neck.

Eddie lets out a muffled sob, sniffling into the collar of the sweatshirt you threw on in a haste. He doesn't really want anyone to see him like this, certainly not Steve Harrington, so he clutches onto you so tightly that he thinks you might just feel his heavy heart beating anxiously against your chest.

And you do. How could you not with the amount of world he means to you? Like an automatism your other hand rubs slow circles over his back. Comforting him in the best way you could. Not a conscious decision you make.

"Okay so, m'not meaning to ruin the party, in fact I'd love to stay for another round of doom talk, but I really should get home soon, guys", Robin scratches the back of her head after she gets up from her huddled position next to the wooden crate Eddie had been sitting on. Max joins in and agrees, mumbling something about having to move her mom from being passed out on the couch again into her bed.

"Yeah me too, actually. My dad's gonna be fucking pissed. We'll see you tomorrow, yeah?", Steve's voice echoes through the room and you can tell he's already shoved Dustin back outside, itching to drive the kid home.

As Eddie processes having to stay in hiding, added the possibility of everyone leaving without him, his grip on you tightens even more.

"It's okay, Eds", you speak softly, head slightly tilted so your cheek rests on the dark frizzy mop you could call his hair. The skin on his neck and scalp so warm underneath your fingertips as you keep scratching it, emphasizing your presence, "I'll stay."

A soft muffled whimper is what you get as a response, and the way he lets you see him in this state melts your insides to a puddle.

You just need him to be okay.

They wave their goodbyes behind your back, accompanied by mumbles of "see you in the morning", and you can't even bring yourself to turn your head around, fully focused on making the young man in your arms less terrified of the world. A world he was sure was now going to come for him with all its force – in deep conviction of him being responsible for Chrissy's misfortunate end.

The door falls shut and Eddie muffles a quiet thank you into the fabric of your sweatshirt. The skin on your neck is damp with his tears, wet eyelashes tickling every time he blinks.

"It's okay, Eds", you softly keep repeating your words to him while continuously rubbing over the denim of his signature Dio vest in a slow motion, when he feels the urgency to claim the truth into the collar of your sweater about what has happened, "I– I didn't do it, I swear."

As if you would need any convincing.

"Oh no of course you didn't, I know that", you're looking for a way to ease the distress this entire situation is causing him, his quivering voice adding to your desire to soothe him to inner peace, "can I make a suggestion?"

Eddie nods with another sniffle against your collarbone, the round wet tip of his nose brushing against the column of your throat lightly. To his ears, your voice sounds like silk right about now.

"How about we head over to the main house and get ourselves a little more comfortable? Since we're gonna be here for a little longer? My god you probably haven't slept or eaten at all, have you?"

You can feel him nod his head again with a hum this time, and you start to think that the tears might not just be pouring because he just witnessed someone suffer a gruesome death right in front of him, but also due to physical exhaustion.

It makes your heart ache even more, that tingle still present, even more so now. It hurts to see your best friend hurt.

He just needs to be okay. And in that heart of yours there's that little spark of hope that leads you to believe you could be the one helping him with that.

You'd really want that. Be all his to find comfort in, to hold close, to kiss stupid

Stop.

A sigh escapes your lungs at the thought. That tingle, that longing, it's selfish. It familiarly pools in your belly and slowly drips downwards. You push your brain aside. This is about soothing your best friend now.

"C'mon then", you utter softly, encouraging him with your hand to lift his head from where it leans against your shoulder.

For your heart it's almost too much to look at, the hurt still swimming in the glassy big brown irises, his waterline red and puffy. The soft smile returning to his lips causes the wet apples of his cheeks to push up slightly, reflecting the dim light coming from the one torch Robin left you, placed on one of the crates.

He really hadn't been able to close an eye for a single second since he he'd gotten up for school the day prior.

You smile back at him almost bashfully as you slowly create space between your bodies.

Eddie is grateful that it's you who grabs his ringed hand next.

He squeezes yours, hoping to get the message of this meaning something to him across.

And he closely trails behind you as you lead the way.

The house feels empty, like no one's really been here in months. You'd never been inside. The few times you'd accompanied Eddie grabbing stash you'd stayed in his van, waiting. But as far as you now can make out in the darkness, there's a couch with knitted blankets, a little TV with a whole stack of VHS almost rising as high as the screen itself, spilled and spluttered empty cans and papers and wrappings littered all around. Maybe this is why he never let you come inside with him. Keeping you out of this definitely not sterile mess. Along with keeping you out of the business.

In the middle of the living room, you let go of his hand and shuffle one step away from him. He's inside now. Safe. Job done. Doesn't need physical contact. You shouldn't, he's your friend. You feel like something between you would break if you'd go there.

Eddie thinks otherwise, regarding close proximity at least. He promptly follows you into what you believe to be the kitchen where you hope you might find a tea bag or two. He comes up behind you and encases you in his arms as you rummage through the cabinets (feels familiar, hm?), not at all ready to say goodbye to the warmth of your body pressed against his own just yet.

You giggle at the silliness of him putting weight on you just to make it harder for you to reach into the cabinets. It's endearing. And very Eddie.

Twenty minutes later and there's two mugs – cleaned to your best ability – with steaming hot liquid on the sixties wooden coffee table. Next to them a plate filled with the almost equally hot insides of a ravioli in tomato sauce can. Thank Rick for a still functioning microwave.

You drape the knitted blankets over both you and Eddie as you settle into the cushions. The only light existent coming from two lit candles on said coffee table. It wouldn't be too wise setting up the torch you think.

The side of Eddie's face glows in the orange yellow, his wide brown bambi eyes dried after the first grand storm, and there's this tug on the corner of his pink plush lips again. He exchanged his leather jacket for the freshly washed hoodie for comfort and a small part of you hopes he doesn't spill his dinner onto any of it.

You lean back into the backrest of the worn out couch and watch as he eats, a domestic thing you've done a thousand times already, yet you still find comfort in knowing that he's nourishing himself.

Or well, in this case, inhaling the raviolis.

"Thank you Peach", he moves to put the empty plate back on the coffee table and it makes the spoon chink and glide along the edge, "I really needed this."

His voice is a little hoarse, probably from the emotions of the hours behind him. Maybe he has indeed calmed down a little. His hand moves down to your thigh, squeezing.

You give him the most empathetic smile you can bring yourself to display, painfully aware of the blaze that is transpiring through your leggings and seeping into your bones, "it's no big deal, really. I mean it is– uh, being there for you, is."

And he can't bring himself to look up at you. Instead, he stares at the empty plate on that coffee table in front of him.

"And to me as well. It really helps that you're here."

He doesn't bother moving the calloused warmth of his hand from the soft warmth of your thigh. It lights your entire nervous system on fire. In a good way.

And that's when you begin to wonder if everything that has just happened and is still happening right now changes anything.

"I'm so glad it does", is all you're able to get out.

Eddie decides that it's time to lean into your side and wrap his arms around your torso once again, drop his head back to its favourite place with a soft content little hum.

He just needs physical comfort. Of course. Just that. Nothing more, nothing else.

The words are redundant but your mouth articulates them anyway, "try to get some sleep, yeah?"

His back already lifts and falls evenly. You place your hand on the back of his head that rests in the crook of your neck again, scratching through the curls lightly, searching to help him shut off even deeper.

–––––

The candles have gone out by the time your eyelids slowly open. It takes you a moment to recall the location you fell asleep in, and you hope that the nightly darkness the whole room is now filled with hasn't invited any stranger to take advantage of your unconsciousness.

There's a warm hand holding your face, the pad of a thumb tracing over the apple of your cheek softly. It makes its way from the bridge of your nose to the outer corner of your eye, and back. And forth. And back. And forth.

You must have moved to lie down on your back in your sleep, with Eddie's weight still on your body, legs entangled. It's not the first time you've slept like this, there had been movie nights that had ended similarly.

His hand caressing your cheek though, yeah that is new. There's something unspoken in the air this time around. Your stomach is doing flip flops when you realise that he is propped up on his elbow, just .. looking at you. With eyes that don't require light to hint at whatever it is he is trying to say, or maybe not trying at all.

"Eds, what are you doing?", you ask almost in a whisper followed by a lopsided smile, expecting an unserious answer, because he always tends to make a joke whenever he tries to avoid conversing about emotions regarding his heart.

His thumb stops its acrobatics on your cheek, comes to a halt.

"I'm–", he takes a deep breath before he continues, "I'm just so grateful it's you that's here right now."

Your hand comes up to cup his. Brush over his rough knuckles with a thumb of your own. Enjoying the warmth that is seeping from his palm into your skin.

"Yeah, I figured you were gonna be a little opposed to spending the night with Harrington", you laugh, an attempt to turn your nerves into humour.

Eddie snorts a little, "yeah right, it's almost like you know me", he grins and pushes himself even closer to your face than he already is. It doesn't necessarily help in extinguishing the fire that's consuming you whole at this point.

"It's almost like we're best friends and I know what you think of him because every time Dustin or literally anyone else mentions his name around you, you're not necessarily secretive about it."

"Hey, my own worldview is not my fault, it's just– ... he just kinda seems like a douche of the highest order."

"He's quite alright, Eds. Try giving him a chance, I think he'd look great as Coffin's tambourinist."

He snorts again and you feel his breath on the column of your neck next when he dips his head down, nose pressing against the soft skin, his small giggle being swallowed by the collar of your sweatshirt.

Your favourite sound. Ever. Followed by the relieved moan Eddie lets out at the way your other hand is softly rubbing over his shoulder blade. The vibration against your neck makes you twitch as much as being pinned into the couch cushions by his body allows you.

It's soothing as much for you as it is for him.

When he lifts his head, the soft gaze he eyes you with is enough to let the goosebumps erupt. Even in the darkness of the room you can still make out those round buttons that could melt the entire north pole.

"Thank you, Peach, really. I'd be goin' mental right now and probably tryin' to counter that by smoking an equally mental amount of the stash I've been hiding here."

Your heart aches.

"I'm just glad I can be that kind of comfort to you, Eds. You don't have to go through whatever the fuck this is alone."

"I know I'm never gonna be alone as long as you are there."

You almost cry yourself now, his words making your hand travel from his own to his cheek, almost passing out from the way his eyes bore into your own once again.

Eddie isn't sure what it is that is making him feel lightheaded right now. The whole rollercoaster of events of the past hours. Or your words of affirmation. Or mayhaps it is your cute soft hand with that little ring on your thumb which is gently swiping over his damp skin.

That cute soft hand he'd been imagining countless times at night, silently yearning for your eyes to look at him differently, to finally see him in a different light the next time you'd hang out.

Probably a combination of just everything.

You reciprocate his soft half-lidded gaze, hand moving from his cheek to tuck some of his hair behind his left ear, revealing that delicate silver hoop earring you'd gifted to him for his birthday, after having talked your ear off about getting his ear pierced for literal months.

He'd insisted you join him for the appointment, "another metal moment for the books", as Eddie had called it, the need to have his hand held during the stab comically urgent in the way his voice sounded when he called you that day. And in the pace in which he picked you up.

"I'm here no matter what", you respond to his sentiment, that hand that brushed his hair away resting on the side of his neck while leaning the weight of your head into his palm that is still attached to your cheek.

Eddie's confidence reaches a new all time high with the admission of your unconditional support being stirred into the cocktail of hormones and emotions that's been circulating in his bloodstream for a generous amount of time now.

Because then he goes on by saying impossible things.

Impossible things with a slightly less platonic undertone.

"You're so fucking sweet, has anyone ever told you?"

You smile as you shake your head, heat rising to your cheeks once again and you're sure he won't be able to see just how flustered he's getting you (joke's on you he does).

You're also sure he's out of his mind for saying that. Now.

"A shame, honestly. You should scold your best friend for not telling you sooner. Tell him what a fucking idiot he is."

Eddie earns another giggle from you. Music to his ears. Better than Metallica. Okay maybe not but .. pretty fucking close.

"I'll let him know next time I see him", you say with a grin, playing along with pleasure, and you ask yourself why it is only now that you realise just how fucking close his face is to yours.

There is a moment of silence in which Eddie hesitates articulating whatever is seemingly bugging his mind.

"Do you, uh, still like him?"

If you lifted your head just a little your noses would be touching. A silly and utmost redundant question, and yet, Eddie dreads your answer. If the circumstances were different, less dystopian and tragic, you'd seriously wonder what would spark the doubt in your friendship in him, but considering that everyone else would be going to pour their judgement over him, you understand.

Every word exchanged between the two of you at this hour is soaked in mutual infatuation, something the idiots in both of you are slowly starting to fathom as well.

"Of course I do, he's everything to me."

As you say it, you can't help the grin which reappears reliably each time you finish verbalizing your thoughts. It's contagious, you notice.

"And do you think – just hypothetically of course", it's only then he breaks eye contact to clear his throat, "of course", you interrupt him still smiling and cocking an eyebrow at him, "d'ya think it would be okay for this best friend to, uh, maybe...", Eddie pauses, internally watching the ship containing his confidence set sail slowly and ultimately letting the irrational thoughts win for tonight, "would you let him..."

Eddie generally wasn't someone who lacked confidence. It showed in the way he boisterously wandered the halls of Hawkins High, the way his demeanor never changed, his mask never faltered no matter who was around. Except for you. You who he had always granted a look underneath the impulsive, extroverted surface.

"Eds", you try everything in your power to stay calm even though everything inside of you is screaming right now and you're certain you can feel your pulse in your earlobes.

"Would it be just insane of that best friend to kiss you right now?"

You want to squeal and kick your feet, pull him into your face, pinch your own forearm, pass away, leave the house and never return, and stay right where you are forever, buried underneath your favourite metalhead, the parts where your bodies are touching practically on fire, cosy and content.

Instead, the most fond smile spreads over your lips as you try to contain your internal overwhelm.

It's still dark, the only light source being the full moon outside. Eddie's so hopeful of your reciprocation and even more terrified of ruining his entire life at the same time, those deep doe eyes at this point pretty much resemble the shape of the space rock orbiting earth. Rejection from you, his pretty Peach and the Bonnie to his Clyde, would be unbearable.

"I think so," you almost whisper, the hand that's been rubbing over Eddie's back coming up to lightly trace one of his eyebrows with your index finger because you just can't seem to not touch him in some way, "but you should know that I love his insanity."

Your small giggle is being silenced by a soft and cautious kiss from Eddie Munson. Like he doesn't want to break you. Or he's afraid you'll snap out of a haze, slap him and leave if he starts kissing you like he really wants to.

And then it's you who goes for it, you feel at home, right where you belong, you don't think you've ever felt this good. The hand on his jaw tugs him closer softly, pressing your lips to his with a bit more urgency.

It gives him all the confirmation he could possibly need.

That tingle, it grows and fills up your chest and shoots through your entire being, goosebumps and all. Eddie moans and breathes against your lips, tongue dancing over the thin skin, asking for permission.

His ringed hand digs deeper and slowly moves to the nape of your neck, intending to hold you in place, afraid you could slip away from him if he didn't. This blossoming thing between you could slip away from him. If he didn't.

It's so soft, the way his lips touch yours, and before you know it they move to your cheek, to your jaw, down your neck before Eddie comes up again, smiling from ear to ear, to gently bump his nose against the tip of yours and his lips return home with a soft and deep hum escaping from his lungs into your mouth.

Relief floods his veins along with whatever it is you're doing to him. The ability to shut out the insanity of the past hours is what he so desperately wants to cling to for as long as you allow him, even if the dawn will remind him of the horrid reality he's involuntarily become subject to live through now.

"You're making things so much better, Peach, you're so sweet, so fucking cute, so fucking good for me, do you even know for how long I've been dreaming of this?"

Eddie greedily pulls your face into his again, not even giving you a chance to reply and not nearly getting enough of your affection it seems with how fervently his tongue searches for yours.

A gentle collision of skin.

The soft whimpers you let out only spur him on. You not backing away from him, staying with him, letting him be this close to you?

You, the only constant source of consolation Eddie's ever really had.

Life changing.

Soft touches follow soft touches, your thumb traces his jaw repeatedly.

"You don't–", kiss, "for how long–", kiss, "I've been dreaming–", kiss, "of you as well", you breathe against him and Eddie thinks he might be about to resort to sniffling into your collar again with the amount of relief he is experiencing.

You'd let him.

"Yeah?", he presses his nose into your cheek with his eyes closed, smiling from ear to ear, relaxing his entire body into yours as you let him slide inbetween your legs.

"Yeah, you know how much of a sucker I am for peaches", you grin, another peck to his cheek, his jaw, his neck, your hips slowly finding a rhythm against his own.

Eddie groans at your allusion with a wide grin on his face (and the feeling of your warmth against his dick), before pressing his lips against yours again lovingly, "me too baby, me too."

–––

taglist (thought you might be interested): @josephfakingquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @analogkraken, @wroteclassicaly, @songforeddiemunson, @joejoequinnquinn, @somnambulic-thing, @trashmouth-richie, @eddddiemunson, @ceriseheaven, @userchai

comments, reblogs and other forms of affection towards the author are greatly appreciated thank youuuuu <3

#nora writes #get the peaches #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #this took me way too fucking long to finish holy shit #but it's here now #it's here !!!#finally lol #also sorry for the title it makes me cringe but i couldn't come up with anything else for the life of me #oh well i hope y'all enjoy this either way :)#thank u for reading <3

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rafeyscurtainbangs · 2 months ago

Text

Jerk - Rafe Cameron Blurb

+18 Minor DNI

Perv!Rafe x Sbf!Reader

⭐ republished ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 Warnings (contains spoilers): Rafe jacking off while the reader sleeps, cum play includes reader, language, non-consensual touching, idk pervert things

📖 based off an ask: Perv rafe jerking off while reader sleeps 🥺

✨ “Hey, sweetheart. Long time no see,” I smile, feeling my cheeks burn in embarrassment as my voice cracks with nervousness. The boys fight their laughter, giving me obnoxious looks, tormenting me further.✨

Rafe’s POV:

You’re going to kill me, sweetheart. I watch as she saunters into the kitchen in her pink silky pajamas with low-cut sides and high-cut bottoms. The curve of her breast peeks through the side. She reaches up high, grabbing a glass, causing the silk to slip up. Just a taste.

Fuck me.

I can feel myself aching for her. She draws the handle up, filling her glass with water. Her lips look delicious, pink, and pouty. I can’t help but fantasize about how they’d look wrapped around my cock, drool seeping from her lips as she deepthroats my dick. Her eyes flash to mine; I quickly look away, running my fingers through my hair, returning my focus to the boys.

“Welcome back, Cameron,” Topper teases before finishing off his beer. Kelce snickers and shakes his head piling on.

“Fuck off,” I mumble as I crack open a beer for myself, watching her out of the corner of my eye as she makes herself a little snack.

“Yo, stalker. A simple ‘hello’ might work better,” Kelce mocks.

“Shut the fuck up,” I grunt, hurling a throw pillow at him, spilling his beer on his chest.

Kelce looks over my shoulder, smiling as he blots the liquid off his polo meaning only one thing… she’s behind me. Is she going to sit down with me? I scoot over slightly on the couch, giving her space just in case. She looks down at me, smiling as she steps even closer. “Hey, Rafey.”

“Hey, sweetheart. Long time no see,” I smile, feeling my cheeks burn in embarrassment as my voice cracks with nervousness. The boys fight their laughter, giving me obnoxious looks, tormenting me further.

“It’s been so long. It’s good to see you,” she coos.

“Good to see you,” I return, leveling my voice with a smoother delivery. Thank fuckin’ god. “So, what’s up? You come out here to hang out with me or…”

“Oh… umm. Sarah and I are just watchin’ a movie. I needed my charger ‘cause my phone’s gonna die. It’s in my purse.”

“Oh yeah? You need my help finding it?” I ask.

“Well… You’re sitting on it I think?” She gestures to my spot on the couch with a soft, sweet smile, making me bloom with humiliation yet again. Why would she hang out with me when she’s here with Sarah? Stop bein’ a fuckin’ idiot.

The guys can’t contain their laughter anymore, looking at me with exaggerated pity as I stand up, holding the pillow that was covers my hard-on from watching her get water alone. Kelce wheezes with laughter, catching my cover-up. I mouth to the boys to ‘shut the fuck up’, the crazed look in my eyes quieting them quick.

“Sorry about your purse,” I sigh.

“Oh. It’s all good, Rafey,” she smiles as she snags her bag. “It’s nice seeing you. We should catch up or something,” she bubbles, stepping closer for a hug. I give her a half-hug, unable to fully commit in my current state. Fuck she smells so damn good. My palm caresses the curve of her lower back making my cock press even rougher against my zipper. I look down at her in my arms, revving myself up again as I get a look straight down her slinky little tank top, the perfect view of her half-hidden tits. I swear to god I could cum untouched.

Fuck I need her.

She has always been pretty; her image has been seared into my mind since the first time I saw her, and I swear she gets even prettier every time. Even her voice is sexy. I can’t imagine what she sounds like when she speaks that filthy shit I dream she says. I want to make her cum more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my entire fuckin’ life… I want to listen to her scream my name, moan it, chant it like a fuckin’ prayer. Rafe, Rafe, Rafe. I’ve replayed that interaction in the living room all night since she left me. I can’t stop.

I had to kick the boys out early. It wasn’t enough to browse her IG; I needed to study it with my fist wrapped around my dick. I scrolled through her feed, each picture sending me further and further into the depths of my lust. She was only a few doors down, driving me insane. I cleaned up the mess on my phone, dick still hard in my hand like I had done nothing at all.

I needed the real thing.

A delicate light illuminates her skin; that silky tank top lying disheveled now, leaving hardly anything to my imagination, which up to this point has not done her justice. Clearly. She’s flawless. Her hair spills across the pillow, her pouty lips juicy, beautiful eyes shut tightly. Her chest gently rises and falls as she breathes rhythmically, hypnotic motion, so soothing to watch. I want to reach out and touch her wet pussy. Circle her pretty little clit and watch her breathing quicken.

The room is pretty loud still, the steady drone of the ceiling fan, and an old rerun of a reality show playing on the TV. The buzz fills the silence, just enough noise to cover the squelching of my hand pumping my cock through a mess of lube. What I wouldn’t do to have it be her slick, wet cunt bouncing on top of me.

I wrap both hands around my dick, pulling to the tip, biting my lip holding back my moans. My eyes roll to the back of my skull. I fight them open, not wanting to miss the chance to stroke myself this close to her. “Fuckkk princess,” I groan, moving my hands counterclockwise, rubbing my thumb over my tip, catching the precum leaking out. “Mmm… just like that, pretty. So, so fucking wet. Does that feel good?“ I breathe.

She lets out a little breath, knitting her brows cutely. She adjusts slightly, giving me a full view of her breast as one spills out. Without thinking I reach out, dusting the pad of my finger across her nipple, watching as it harden under my touch. She whimpers, goosebumps spreading across her bare arm. I do it again, circling softly this time, making her moan. Holy fucking shit.

I begin thrusting up into my fist, gripping my length, holding back every primal urge to wake her and beg for what I need. What do I need? I’ve only thought about it a million times over. My dick in her pussy. My hands on her throat. My cum flowing out of her tight hole just so I can stuff that shit back in. Fuck I want it all.

My thighs start to quake, cock throbbing, muscles clenching tight. ”I’m almost there...“ I grunt. ”Oh, f-fuck… Ugh… Mmm...“ I look down, watching as my climax spurts and spills onto my fist, pooling around her lace panties I stole when I snuck in. I finish myself off slowly, exhaling sharply as I milk out the last bits of my cum.

I lean over, kissing her forehead and then her lips gently as I slip the panties off my softening dick. I breathe a sigh of relief, finally feeling a release. She’s all I needed. I slide her used panties into my pocket, messy with my cum, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m in heaven. I wanna know what we taste like together. Round three bitch.

I swirl my fingers through what little bit of my cum remains, smudging it along her plump bottom lip. She licks it clean and I swear I can see the corner of her lips curl into a slight smile.

Dirty girl.

#rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe #obx #rafe cameron smut #rafeyscurtainbangs library 📚#perv!rafe #perv Rafe #Rafe x Reader #Rafe Cameron x Reader #rafe blurb #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x smut #rafe smut #rafe x you #rafe cameron blurb

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rafecameronssl4t · 3 months ago

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Wildflower || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Based on what Wildflower is about, helping your friend get through a breakup only to fall in love with her ex and breaking girl code and feeling haunted by what you know about their past relationship

Warnings: ANGST!!!!

Word count: 1,548

A/n: this song acc has me bawling you guys i love it sm

MASTERLIST

divider by @h-aewo

Things fall apart and time breaks your heart. I wasn’t there, but I know.

Everyone thought Rafe and Sofia were destined for forever. They were total opposites in every way—personality, interests, dreams—but their love was so deep that breaking up seemed impossible. Yet, as the 2 years went by, something felt off with Sofia. Even from miles away, during your FaceTime calls, you could sense a change in her. She never said a word about it, but you could feel the shift. After all, you were her best friend.

She was your girl, you showed her the world.

Rafe was everything to Sofia. He was her entire world, and though it might sound cliché, it was true. He was her first love, her first everything. He made her happier than anyone ever had, and everyone could see it. It was almost surreal to think that someone who had given her the universe could ever be the source of such pain.

You fell out love and you both let go.

Rafe couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he fell out of love with Sofia. The transition was subtle, an ebbing tide he couldn’t fully grasp. He couldn’t even bring himself to utter the words that would shatter their shared dreams. Once, he had believed she was the one—his soulmate, his future wife, the mother of his children. Yet now, Sofia found it unbearable to hold onto a love that was no longer reciprocated. The weight of his unspoken truth was too heavy for her heart to bear, knowing that his feelings had shifted while hers remained steadfast.

She was crying on my shoulder, all I could do was hold her. Only made us closer until July.

The second your feet touched the sands of obx, Sofia’s tears soaked through your shoulder like a storm unleashed. You could feel the weight of her anguish, a heavy, unspoken truth that you sensed from the moment you saw her. As she unraveled her sorrows into your embrace, each sob a silent plea, your heart ached at the sight of your best friend’s shattered world. All you could do was offer your presence and comfort, feeling helpless yet determined to be there for her.

Now I know that you love me, you don’t need to remind me.

You stared at the locket, the image of you and Sofia as young girls reflecting back. Tears welled in your eyes as you took in the precious memory. “You really didn’t need to do this,” you sniffled, meeting her gaze with glassy eyes. She smiled softly, pulling you into a tight embrace. Her hand comfortingly stroked your back as you struggled to hold back your sobs.

“I love you,” she whispered, and the weight of her words made you sob even harder. The guilt of being with Rafe behind Sofia’s back pressed heavily on your heart. Each tear you shed was a mix of sorrow for her pain and the crushing guilt of hiding your true feelings.

I should put it all behind me, shouldn’t I?

“She’ll get over it,” Rafe says with a dismissive shrug, his gaze flicking briefly towards you in the passenger seat before returning to the road ahead. His hand rests firmly on your thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze that feels more mechanical than comforting.

“But she’s my best friend, Rafe,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you absently fiddle with the ring he gave you, feeling its cold metal against your skin.

“So? If she was your best friend, she’d want you to be happy,” Rafe responds, his tone dismissive and frustrated. His lack of empathy makes the tears well up in your eyes, despite your efforts to hold them back.

“It’s more complicated than that, Rafe,” you cry out in frustration, your voice cracking as you cover your face with your hands, unable to contain the sobs that begin to shake your body. The harshness of Rafe’s chuckle only amplifies your distress.

“How is it more complicated? Please, fucking enlighten me, because I’m sick of you cry about this,” he shouts, his eyes never leaving the road. His words feel like a dagger, deepening the anguish you’re already feeling.

“Because I fucking care about her—” you start to explain, but Rafe interrupts with a loud scoff. “You obviously don’t care as much as you say you do, or you wouldn’t have kissed me back!” he yells, his voice sharp and accusatory. The intensity of his words makes your breath hitch, and you feel the weight of his anger crushing down on you.

“Stop the car,” you say calmly, though your voice trembles with a mix of anger and desperation as you quickly unbuckle your seatbelt. Rafe’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What?”

“I said stop the fucking car, Rafe, or I swear to God I’m going to jump out,” you scream, the urgency in your voice leaving no room for argument. He slams on the brakes, pulling over abruptly on the side of the road.

“Are you fucking serious? We’re still in the cut, someone could—” Rafe begins, but you cut him off by flinging open the door and stepping out into the chilly night air. The door slams shut behind you with a resounding thud, echoing your frustration and pain. Tears flow freely down your face as you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. Glancing at the screen, your heart drops—Sofia is calling. You swallow hard, turning the phone to silent before shoving it back into your pocket.

“Come on, baby. I didn’t mean it!” Rafe’s voice calls out from his truck, his tone desperate as he drives slowly alongside you. “Just go home, Rafe. I’ll be fine,” you reply, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to ward off the cold and the emotional turmoil. Despite his lingering presence, Rafe eventually speeds off, his truck’s taillights fading into the darkness as you are left standing alone on the side of the road.

But I see her in the back of my mind, all the time

You lounged against Rafe’s back, soaking in the warmth of the sun as you lay sprawled on the deck of his yacht feeling the gentle sway of the boat beneath you. His thumb traced absent-minded circles on your hip while you stared out at the water.

“You good? You haven’t said much since we got here,” Rafe’s voice broke the silence, a note of concern laced with a hint of impatience. His hand rested lightly on your thighs, a gesture meant to reassure, yet it only intensified your unease. You snapped out of your daze, feeling the weight of the guilt that had been shadowing you ever since you and Rafe hooked up that one night.

“‘M fine,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You fidgeted with your ring, a nervous habit you had developed over time. Rafe’s gaze, sharp and unyielding, didn’t waver. His frustration was palpable, and you could sense the slight edge in his tone.

“You’re obviously not, Y/N. What’s wrong?” His words were laced with a subtle annoyance that made you sit up abruptly, breaking the comfortable silence you had been trying to maintain. “I’m going to go inside for a bit,” you said, standing up and stretching. Rafe watched you carefully, his expression softening as he chose not to push further when you clearly didn’t want to talk.

As you moved past him on the sun lounge, he reached out and grasped your hand, making you pause in your tracks. The intensity of his gaze was almost palpable, his eyes searching yours for answers. Slowly, he drew your hand closer to his face and pressed a tender kiss to your knuckles.

The gesture was both affectionate and vulnerable, and his next words made your breath catch. “I love you,” he said softly, the sincerity in his voice making your heart ache. A shiver ran through. A shiver ran through you as you tried to process the weight of his confession.

You couldn’t shake the image of him saying those same words to Sofia, the unresolved guilt gnawing at your insides. You managed a tight-lipped smile, the weight of your conflicted emotions pressing down on you. “Love you too,” you said quickly, before withdrawing your hand and heading inside. The door clicked shut behind you, and you were left alone with your thoughts.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love Rafe—quite the opposite. You were certain that you’d never felt as deeply for anyone as you did for him. That's why you didn't stop seeing him. But the reality of loving him, especially given that he was your best friend’s ex, made everything feel so much more complicated.

So you couldn’t help but see Sofia in the back of your mind whenever you were with Rafe. It felt unfair to him, but most of all it was so fucking unfair for Sofia. Every time you were with Rafe, all you could think about was how fucked up it was that you ended up hooking up with her ex at a party she had skipped because she was still getting over the breakup. She’d wanted you to have fun, and yet here you were, knowing you were betraying her trust.

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nymphea0 · 3 months ago

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JEREMY VON NEUSCHWANSTEIN .

HEADCANON.

Hello Anon🦋, thanks for your request, this is my first time getting a request and also my first time making a headcanon.

it took me a while to make a headcanon, because i didn't read this manhwa before, so i read this manhwa and i need to analyze the nature of jeremy's character based on the original story.

this is a good manhwa, a complex depiction in terms of plot and character.

might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in this headcanon I wrote.

i hope you like it Anon🦋 , i'm very sorry, i accidentally deleted your question TvT, hope you forgive me, and enjoy Anon🦋. Love - Neva🦋🦋.

Manhwa : The Fantasie of a Stepmother/A Stepmother's Fairy Tale / A Stepmother's Märchen .

Author And Illustrasion : Spice&Kitty / ORKA(Art).

Publisher : Kakaopage And Tapas.

*Source Image : Pinterest

Jeremy Von Neuschwanstein'

● Jeremy, the man is the heir of the Neuschwanstein family, a wealthy noble family. While you, you are just an ordinary girl who works as a gardener at the Neuscwanstein manor.

●you and Jeremy are childhood friends, you play together and grow up together, until all that changes when his mother dies of illness, Jeremy's attitude is not the same as the jeremy you know, he changes.

●as time goes by you are quite close to his stepmother Shuri Von Neuschwanstein, Shuri is very kind to you, she is gentle and respects you very much even though you are just a gardener.

●In Shuri's eyes, you and Jeremy are an ideal couple, shuri had thought that you and jeremy would get married someday, but that plan was forced to disappear when Duke Heinrich proposed an engagement between Jeremy and his daughter Ohara Von Heinrich.

●From there, your relationship with Jeremy, which was previously not close, changed to being like strangers. In Shuri's first life, she could conclude that Jeremy was willing to let you go for his honor.

● For Shuri, in her first life, Jeremy was very protective and liked to spend time with you compared to his younger siblings. Jeremy laughed and cried only with you. For Shuri, Jeremy in her first life was a figure who was very protective of you, pure love.

● However .... in her second life, Jeremy is different from the one in her first life.

● This Jeremy is more passionate and direct towards you. He doesn't care about his status as a noble when he is with you.

● Initially, Shuri thought that this might be Jeremy's true nature, but unfortunately Shuri was very wrong.

● because the current Jeremy is the Jeremy who is willing to burn the world just for you.

● Jeremy is not good at expressing his feelings through words, so Jeremy expresses his feelings through actions.

● he can kiss you, hug you secretly, even when you are busy taking care of the garden.

● Jeremy, he has had the same recurring dream for 1 year, the dream includes his mother who died right on his wedding day and himself who married a noble girl he didn't know, and not you.

●Jeremy was very angry and upset when he remembered the dream, Therefore with the permission of his stepmother Shuri Von Neuschwanstein, Jeremy asked for permission to marry you, which was answered with Shuri's agreement.

●You certainly think rationally, you reject Jeremy, you reject him by giving a reasonable reason, You are just an ordinary person, and not a noble lady who lives in luxury, but an ordinary person who lives in hardship.

● Jeremy rejected your excuse, 1 time, 2 times, 3 times, and many times Jeremy tried to convince you to marry him, even with the help of Shuri and her younger siblings, Elias, and the twins Leon and Rhacel, but the results were still in vain.

● Until when you decided to leave by quitting your job as a gardener, Jeremy decided to marry you by force. He locked you in his room.

● Shuri and her younger siblings tried to convince Jeremy that what he did was over the line.

● But this was Jeremy Von Neuschwanstein they were facing, a Neuschwanstein lion.

● Shuri and her younger siblings could only hope for the best for your fate with Jeremy.

●During your life with Jeremy, he was an incredibly responsible man, although sometimes he was jealous for no apparent reason, but my dear, Jeremy loves you very much, with Jeremy's life as marquess and you as marchioness

●Your life is like heaven with Jeremy in other noble lady eyes. While they never know what is secret behind Jeremy love for you.

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions , Always be good people Dear. Much love , Neva🦋🦋.

@snowflakes666 @aenishas @elleflying07 @cannyyyyy

#obsessed #possesive #yandere #yandere male #yandere manhwa #manhwa #manhwa x reader #jeremy von neuschwanstein #A Stepmother's Märchen #a stepmother's marchen #headcanon #Anon🦋#nevaerah

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wegc · 11 months ago

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perv!channie and reader finally fucking but she teases him the whole time until he has had enough. “you’re such a fucking pervert” and “you’re so disgusting” all while she’s grinning at him and riding him like her life depends on it. he’s literally a second away from cumming as soon as he’s inside her. “you really think you deserve to cum? after fantasizing about fucking your best friend’s sister?” she denies him to cum for so long that he finally snaps and flips her over, pounding into her like a madman. “such a tease, you whore” and “don’t have much to say now, huh?” she cums so hard but he’s not done. even after he cums, he aint done either…

OK IM DONE AHHHHHH (please feel free to finish or add on or write more to it bc i would v much appreciate it)

i’m ascending. something about cocky!reader paired with a perpetually flustered, perv!chan is such a mouthwatering combination.

perv!chan whose cock twitches inside you every time you humiliate him with yet another reminder of how repulsive and depraved he is; he can’t bite back immediately because you’re right. he’s nothing but a disgusting pervert and he’s fortunate that you aren’t completely appalled by him.

when you grip the base of his cock and guide him inside your dripping cunt, chan feels like he could pass away beneath you. every delusion of his, whether it emerged in his bedroom or your washroom—a mere room away from you—was coming true and it was far better than he had ever imagined.

all he can do is pant and whine under you, taking in the sight of your tits bouncing in his face and the cute flush of your face, which scrunched up in pleasure. most importantly, the feeling of your cunt—the warmest thing in the world—took his breath away; his cunt, all his—he’d make sure of it.

the overwhelming feeling of being inside you, the epiphany and high of all his dreams and desires coming true right before him has his poor cock pulsing inside you, seconds away from cumming. each flutter of your cunt, each moment your fingers teased his nipples or when your hot, wet mouth whined against his had him feeling lightheaded—he knew he wouldn’t last long.

and your teasing—while it did turn him on, it also infuriated him. god, you were such a fucking brat—a mouthy little handful. did you frankly know what he thought of every time he stroked his cock to the image of you? you wouldn’t be behaving so pretentiously if you knew all the things he yearned to do to you, all the positions he’d bend you in, all the fondling and groping he had dreamt of, all the mean and obscene remarks he’d taunt you with, all the ways in which he would make you beg for more. you had no fucking clue.

before you even realize it, you’re pulled off his cock and manhandled to your hands and knees, where the drilling of chan’s cock seizes your breath. he’s suddenly so deep inside your cunt—you swear the tip of his cock might kiss your cervix—and you can scarcely catch some air every time he snaps his hips to go harder.

chan would grin, smacking your ass, laughing shakily at the sounds of your yelps and wailing with each drag of his length. your face is buried in his pillow, but even that hardly muffles your loud sobs and pleas.

“god, you don’t ever shut up do you?”

“fuckin’ brat, you want more?”

“dirty little thing, you’re just as gross as me.”

“you feel like a whore, don’t you? doesn’t it make you feel dirty, knowing everything i’ve done? you hate that you like it, don’t you?”

chan, who fucks until dawn, cumming continually inside you and pulling out periodically to observe and engrave the way his cum oozes out of your gaping hole. he feels so pleased as he takes in the bruises and marks he’s littered on your body, marking you as his. or even better, the way your eyes gloss over, looking at him desperately with tearful eyes. your hair is dishevelled, draped messily across his ruined sheets, and your lips are bruised with his kisses and nibbles, lipgloss pathetically smudged away.

“so fucking pretty—my pretty girl, yeah? you wanna go again? can’t go without me, hm? need me so bad to stop all that fussing, right?”

“you’re all mine now, you know that? can’t fuck you just once—can’t have you looking at other people.”

#AAAAA IM GOINF INSANE #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #perv skz #perv bang chan #bang chan hard thoughts #bang chan hard hours #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #answered #anonymous

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joesalw · 11 months ago

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Taylor Swift has an unhealthy obsession with changing her personality according to the men she dates from time to time. It’s funny how she talks about how she's never gonna get back the six years of her life being wasted for being private. But this is the same person who released interviews saying she craves privacy and it has made her life manageable and feel real instead of being the objective of tabloid stories by the media.

It's like she doesn’t have her own perspective of life, she always sees the world the way her partners see them. When she first started dating Joe and started talking about him, she made it look like he is the best thing that has ever happened to her, even in her songs she wrote so highly of him. All the things that she's rejecting now are the things that she admired back in 2016-2022. With all the privacy cravings back then, her fans were dragging Tom hiddleston and Calvin Harris for being so public with her, they dragged these guys saying they only used her for fame and never seen the real Taylor. Back then the narrative was, only Joe was a real guy who loves Taylor for being herself and not the Taylor Swift tm. But since the relationship didn’t work out, she switched the whole narrative again.

This time Joe is the villain for not being public with her. She is so proud of Kelce, she loves to enjoy his shows and apparently she doesn’t care about how many people are pissed of seeing her face everyday, she made a quote on that. But how long since she will switch this narrative too? Again swifties will villainize Travis Kelce and not TS. It's funny how they totally erased the existence of Matty Healy from the interview as well, since it was bad for her image. But we didn’t forget it Taylor that you were proudly hanging out with a racist, xenophobic, islamophobic, zionist guy and publishing articles on how your relationship is NOT platonic.

Her whole activism era started because Joe was an activist. He didn’t stop it after the breakup because it's a part of his personality, he still signed the ceasefire letter. But Taylor didn’t utter a single word about genocide, she's busy learning football and crying about how oppressed she is in her billionaire lifestyle. And somehow she is the Person of the Year in Times magazine.

And talking about her new boyfriend so publicly is something she never did even with Calvin Harris, which was (in comparison) her third most public relationship. But somehow all of this is directed towards Joe as if he was the one in fault for keeping her silent for so long. She is a grown ass woman who can take her own decisions. If she wanted an out from being locked for so long in her own mansions, she could've done that anyway. But to make it look like someone else fault is something she never gets tired of. It's always her exes' faults and not hers. When will you take accountability for your own decisions Taylor Swift?

Like this woman is pushing 40 and is still acting like a high school bully. She is proud of having a boyfriend from football team which is fulfilling her dreams from high school. She loves the attention, loves to play a cheerleader role as a gf. She got a platform like Times magazine’s person of the year where she could talk about serious issues in the world but she'd rather talk about how independent she feels being in a public relationship like this.

Btw it will take no longer than two years for this to turn into a victim trap again, she will then release another article about how she hates so much attention from public and how she craves privacy again, (based on whatever her then boyfriend would want lol) and her fandom will again forget everything she's said in this interview and make an ultimate villain out of Travis Kelce. Literally the same way they did with Jake Gyllenhaal, Calvin Harris, Tom Hiddleston, Harry Styles and Joe Alwyn. It is a never ending cycle and it will go on forever until she decides to seek some therapy for herself.

#anti taylor swift #swifties dni #anti swifties #joe alwyn #calvin harris

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syoddeye · 3 months ago

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unedited soap x reader thing, through simon’s POV. based off an image in my inspiration folder.

cw: abduction, imprisonment, more medical inaccuracies we breeze right through. cages. italics.

simon drives slow through the backroads. he takes the time to avoid potholes and cracks in the neglected asphalt.

he whistles low when it transitions to gravel, eyes flicking up to the mirror to check his cargo. gaz does his best with an arm slung over the goods to try and keep it still. tries to not whack his head as the ride jostles him about the bed.

price’s big blocky hand painted letters on the signs let simon know they’re close. turn back and private property and no exit. proper warnings. generous, really, to the right people. more than simon would give any lost souls wandering all the way out here.

the property comes into view through the trees, and simon sees johnny at the woodpile. wide shoulders and back slicked with sweat and dirt, heaving the axe up and bringing it down hard. adding to a pile of split wood. he doesn’t need to. they all stocked up while he was out, but it gives him something to do. an outlet.

johnny came back after the bullet. mostly. but even with all the doctors and specialists supplied by two different governments, something was left behind in the tunnels. he wakes up ranting and raving, talks about a wife. a whole life he lived while he was out—comatose, that is.

johnny told them how he was medically discharged and moved house. how he met a bird who lived a floor above him, chatted her up, and managed to get it in. how he dated this girl, popped the question, and married. they were trying for their first mactavish, when he woke up. he came to in the hospital, delirious and sick, and quickly spiraled when he realized none of it was real. he nearly bludgeoned himself to death with a steel meal tray, hoping to go back down, to find her. it took him and gaz to pin him until someone could sedate him.

since then it’s been a group effort. a new mission. they got the first bit done easy. medical discharge. no one fought them on it. their johnny’s got a hole in his head and can’t go ten minutes alone when he’s conscious. the next step was more of a challenge. difficult to execute without tipping johnny off, putting him on a scent.

simon parks the truck beside price’s, and tells gaz to hang back. he finds his captain overseeing johnny from the porch.

it’s ‘ere. in one piece, primed and ready.

paperwork?

done. squared and filed.

i’ll bring him around.

simon waits with gaz. they hear johnny before they see him, swearing up a storm. clearly irritated, in one of his moods. poor thing, simon thinks.

price guides johnny to the front with a hand on his shoulder, pushing him forward when the scot stops in his tracks.

steamin’ jesus.

ya like ‘er? she’s all yours.

she’s—

from the clinic. we thought you’d like someone familiar.

simon watches johnny stagger forward. him and gaz come away from the open tailgate, giving the shark-eyed man a wide berth. price chuckles quietly when johnny’s fingers lace around the thin bars of the kennel. when he grins at the crude sign gaz wrote and reads it aloud: just married.

feels like a dream, johnny whispers, reaching in to stroke the temple of the terrified, bound and gagged woman in the cage.

for all their sakes, simon hopes it’s a good one.

#soap x reader #okay obviously unedited.#idk what’s going on with me today. my bad.

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lovelytsunoda · 4 months ago

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unsub! // logan sargeant

summary: this modern thriller star is a big softie for her boyfriend…if you squint really hard sometimes

pairing: logan sargeant x criminal minds! actress! reader

fc liana liberato

yn.yln

liked by logansargeant, jennaortega, kiernanshipka and 2,490 others

yn.yln big things are coming, watch this space! criminalmindsevolution

see all comments

logansargeant hey sexy lady

-> yn.yln 😘

jennaortega she is the moment

user this is my gay awakening

user is it just me or does she seem totally wrong for an f1 wag? she’s all gloom and darkness and hard edges and logan is a ball of sunshine

-> user logan is happy so who are we to judge? I personally love their grumpy sunshine dynamic. I think he evens her out

criminalmindsevolution 👀👀

-> user please tell me my scream queen is going to be playing a hot new female unsub

user just one chance. that’s all I’m asking.

albon_pets she scares horsey

-> yn.yln I’ll bring extra nandos next time I’m around, that should change horseys mind!

-> alex_albon we all know you’re the biggest softy around drop the act

-> yn.yln i admit nothing. I have my image to think about

criminalmindsevolution and yn.yln

liked by yn.yln, logansargeant and 9,451 others

criminalmindsevolution we are delighted to welcome yn yln as jade waters to the bau verse. she has stunned viewers with her roles in ‘scream’, ‘based on a true story’ and ‘totally killer’. meet jade on screen for the first time this friday, we think you’ll like her

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user I KNEW SHED BE A SEXY UNSUB!! whatever my wife did she’s not guilty your honor

yn.yln knife to meet you 🫣

logansargeant so proud of you my love!

user she is mother.

user is anyone else alarmed that she seems to only play unalivers and general psychopaths? sensing an alarming pattern

-> user are u dumb she literally played a slasher victim in totally killer

f1wagsource

f1wagsource Actress YN YLN spotted taking a break from filming Criminal Minds Evolution as she enters the Vegas paddock this weekend with boyfriend Logan Sargeant

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user are we sure this is the same woman who killed seven people in a Scream film? the same woman who said her favourite director was Wes Craven and her favourite film Cillian Murphys Red Eye?

user this is like a whole other side to her!!

user she’s so expressive! I was watching her through the afternoon as she decided to watch the practice sessions from the stands and she did the most adorable little cheer in her seat whenever logan’s car came past 🥺

user she’s actually the sweetest person I’ve ever met! I ran into her and logan at a franchised bar in reno and she was so chill- she even offered to take a picture of me and logan, not even realizing that I actually wanted a picture with her!

logansargeant just posted to his story!

[caption 1: help I think she’s house hunting out if our budget again caption 2: never get between yn and her nachos….love you baby]

y.n.yln just posted!

liked by logansargeant, pagetpagetgram, oscarpiastri and 2,583 others

yn.yln to my partner in crime, my script partner, the one who always encourages me to chase my dreams, even when I think they’re bigger than my body. without you, I never would have had the courage to send my audition tape to the producers of criminal minds. heck, I probably wouldn’t have even thought to audition for scream. we’ve been through so much together, and it feels like only yesterday I nervously asked you out in a crowded bar, palms so sweaty that I dropped my sprite and you had to help me clean the glass off the floor. I still don’t know why you agreed to go out with me, if I’m being honest.

happy three years my love 🩷

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kirstenvangness AWEEE MY BABIES ARE ALL GROWN UP

logansargeant has it really been three years already? what can I saw except I love you know like I love you then, but tenfold. you inspire me and support me and I am so lucky to call you my girlfriend.

-> yn.yln don’t make me cry!! people can’t think I’m a softie!

-> logansargeant lmao it’s too late for that one babe

kiernanshipka THREE YEARS ALREADY! that boy better put a ring on it soon

user my royal couple

user this was a sudden burst of emotions I wasn’t expecting

-> oscarpiastri get used to it, logan makes her go all soft and gooey inside

joemantegna happy anniversary kiddo!

jensonbutton petition to have her at every race? she’s so much fun to be around and she makes the garage a better place to be

-> liakblock ur only saying that because she was the only one who would do oasis karaoke with you

-> yn.yln I can neither confirm nor deny the presence of a karaoke machine in jensons office

#logan sargeant x reader #logan sargent x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x Reader #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #logan sargeant smau #logan sargeant fluff #ig aus #f1 smau

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nhlclover · 10 days ago

Text

WITH OR WITHOUT YOU JACK HUGHES

pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: jack grapples with overwhelming guilt after betraying you, struggling to reconcile his love with the mistake that threatens to destroy your relationship.

warnings: cheating, tears and fighting, jack being a terrible boyfriend!!

wc: 3.51k

notes: very much inspired by ross & rachel's break up scene in friends + based on with or without you by U2

Jack stared into the mirror at his reflection, his bloodshot eyes barely open. The dim bathroom light cast shadows across his face, accentuating every crease, every line etched by guilt and exhaustion. His face was inches away from the mirror, seeing deep into every pore that clutched onto sin. His breath fogged the mirror for a moment — obscuring the image for a brief, blessed second. But when it cleared, he still saw it — his own face, but twisted by shame, unfamiliar. He didn’t recognize the man staring back at him, the man who’d betrayed everything that mattered most to him.

Jack ran a hand through his damp hair, slick with cold sweat. His heart pounded a bruise into his chest, the rhythm a constant, relentless reminder of the night before — the nightmare that felt all too real, too close. He had woken up in a panic, the vividness of the dream merging with reality, until there was no telling where one ended and the other began. The taste of regret still lingered on his lips like the cheap vodka from the bar, and no amount of water would wash it away.

He turned on the tap, the water flowing in a persistent stream. He splashed it over his face, droplets racing down his cheeks, but the coolness did little to chase away the heat of shame burning beneath his skin. Jack pressed his fingers to his lips, as though he could scrub the memory from his skin, as though he could erase the mistake if he just tried hard enough. But the water running from the faucet wasn’t enough. His lips would never be raw enough to cleanse the guilt coursing through his veins.

The images of the night replayed in flashes—fragments too sharp, too vivid. The pulsing bass of the club, the crowded, suffocating heat, bodies pressed too close together. He’d been drinking—more than he should’ve—each glass dulling his thoughts, blurring the line between right and wrong until it vanished entirely. And then, in the haze of it all, she appeared. Her movements were slow, deliberate, weaving through the crowd until she stood too close, her presence inescapable.

Jack had felt the distance growing between you two for weeks, the silent weight of unspoken words, the tension that wrapped around every interaction. You were always there in his mind, lingering at the edge of every thought, every decision, but still, he hadn’t stopped it. He didn’t push her away. Her laughter was sweet, her touch light, her voice a soft hum that lulled him into forgetting. One moment she was a stranger across the room, and the next, they were slipping into the backseat of a cab, her lips against his neck, her fingers laced with his as though it had been inevitable.

He gripped the edge of the sink now, knuckles white, the memory clawing at his insides. Why had he done it? What possessed him to throw away everything that mattered for a fleeting moment of nothingness? He didn’t even remember her name. He couldn’t recall her face, not really. But he remembered your face, the softness of your eyes, the way you laughed at his stupid jokes, how you knew him better than anyone. ou, who had stood by him through every hardship, every late night, every moment he hadn’t deserved you. You were everything. And still, he’d let himself betray you.

Why? Why, why why?

He didn’t know. The question burned through him, hollowing him out until there was nothing left but shame and confusion. The bathroom was suffocating now, the air too thick, the sound of the running water too loud. He felt like his chest was on the verge of caving in.

The sound of footsteps pulled him from his spiraling thoughts, soft, almost hesitant. He didn’t need to look up to know it was you. You stood in the doorway, your figure a silhouette against the dim light from the hallway, your hair mussed from sleep, and your expression caught between concern and exhaustion.

“Jack?” Your voice was a whisper, tender, filled with the kind of care that twisted the knife deeper in his chest. You stepped closer, rubbing sleep from your eyes. “Are you okay?”

He swallowed thickly, forcing a smile that felt like shards of glass in his throat. “Yeah… I’m fine. Just go back to bed.” His voice came out strained, unnatural. He turned back to the sink, hoping you wouldn’t hear the tremor in his words.

You weren’t convinced. He could feel it in the way you approached him, the warmth of your hand resting softly on his arm. “You don’t seem fine.”

Your touch burned, seared through the guilt like fire on his skin. He nodded too quickly, too desperately. “I am. I’m fine. Really.”

You hesitated, your frown deepening, but you didn’t press. Instead, you took his hand, your fingers slipping between his, leading him back to the bed. Jack let you, his body moving mechanically, but his mind was a storm — raging, relentless. He slid under the covers beside you, his skin ice against the warmth of your body. You fell asleep easily, your breathing slow and peaceful, unaware of the war inside him.

Jack lay awake, staring at the ceiling, drowning in the guilt that refused to let him breathe. He wanted to be close to you, to hold you tighter, to never let go. But his touch felt poisoned now. You didn’t know, couldn’t know. How could you sleep so peacefully next to a man who had betrayed you? He closed his eyes, but sleep never came.

Days passed, each one a marathon of guilt. He couldn’t look at you without feeling the weight of his secret dragging him under. The air between you two was thick, heavy with the tension of what was unspoken. You noticed. How could you not? You asked him, more than once, what was wrong. But Jack lied, every time, his answers mechanical, shallow. He wasn’t fine. He was drowning.

You couldn't take it anymore. The tension between you two had become unbearable, festering into something you could no longer ignore. You had tried everything — patience, gentle conversations, offering him space to open up — but it was like he was slipping further and further away with every attempt. Jack wasn’t there anymore, at least not in the way you needed him to be.

Jack was simply the shell of the man you’d once fell in love with. Nothing loveable about him was showing. His humour was gone, his loving touch something you’d scornfully missed. It continued on in painful waves, the tension between you two growing like an invisible wall, thickening with every passing moment of silence.

You stood in the doorway one night, arms tightly crossed over your chest, the weight of exhaustion bearing down on your shoulders. Your eyes, rimmed with fatigue, fixed on Jack, who barely registered your presence. Slouched on the couch, he scrolled through his phone, the harsh light from the screen casting deep shadows on his face, his expression as vacant as his gaze. It was as if the world around him had faded into static.

“What the hell is going on with you?” Your voice cracked, more out of frustration than sadness, though both emotions swirled inside you. Jack’s eyes flicked up, his movements slow, almost reluctant. His gaze, hollow and tired, swept over you like a stranger’s. You felt your chest tighten at the emptiness there. “You’ve been distant, barely even talking to me for days, and I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Your words struck him like a blow, his shoulders tensing, but still, he didn’t speak. His fingers tightened around the phone, knuckles paling with the effort to hold onto something—anything—that wasn’t this conversation.

You took a step forward, your frustration gaining momentum. The distance between you felt vast, more than just the few feet separating the two of you physically. It felt as though Jack was slipping further and further away with each passing second.

“I feel like I don’t even exist to you anymore! Like I’m just… here. You’re not even trying, and it feels like I’m the only one fighting to keep this relationship going!” Your voice rose as the words spilled out, emotions you’d kept bottled up for too long finally finding release. “I get that things have been hard lately, but I can’t do this alone, Jack. I won’t. We can work through this together… whatever it is I’m willing, but I need you to put in some fucking effort too.”

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as if he were bracing himself for the impact of your words. Slowly, he set his phone down on the coffee table, sitting up straighter but averting his eyes from your gaze.

“Say something!” you demanded, your voice trembling. “Please, Jack. I need to understand. Do you even still want this? Do you even want me anymore?”

His head snapped up at that, eyes wide, his face a mixture of fear and anguish. “Of course, I want you!” he said, his voice rough, as if the words had been clawing at his throat. “It's not that. It’s never been that.”

“Then what is it?” you pressed, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Because right now, it feels like you’ve already checked out of this relationship, and I don’t know why. I feel like I’m losing you, Jack.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his face pale, lips pressed together in a thin line as though every word he wanted to say had turned to ash in his mouth. Then something inside him shattered. The weight of whatever he had been carrying finally bore down on him, and his whole frame seemed to sag. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, burying his head in his hands.

“I screwed up,” he whispered, his voice so low you could barely hear it.

Your heart stuttered, the dread settling in your stomach like a lead weight. “What do you mean?” you asked cautiously, moving closer until you were standing directly in front of him. Your hands reached out, trembling, as you touched his forearm gently, desperate to connect with him. His hand dropped from his face, slipping into yours with a kind of resignation.

Jack raised his head slowly, and when he looked at you, his eyes were red-rimmed, glistening with unshed tears. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he really saw you, and the weight of his guilt pressed down on him. He looked hollow, as though the burden of his secret had already broken him long before this moment.

“That night when I didn’t come home,” he started, his voice shaky, cracking around the edges. “I said I was at Petey’s, but I… I went to a club. I was drunk. Way too drunk. And there was this girl.” He swallowed hard, his hands gripping yours tighter as if he feared letting go would mean losing you completely. “I don’t know why I did it, but I didn’t stop it. I slept with her.”

The world seemed to stop around you, the air leaving your lungs in a rush. You felt like someone had punched you in the gut, the room spinning as his confession hung in the air between you. For a moment, you could only hear the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, your chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The words felt distant, foreign, as if they didn’t belong in your story—your story with Jack. How could they? How could this be the same man you had shared your life with? The man who had held you through late-night talks and whispered promises of forever? Your hand fell limp in his, slipping away, your fingers curling into a fist until your nails bit into your skin. You felt the sting, but it was muted, drowned out by the growing numbness that spread from your heart outwards, freezing you to the core.

“You—” Your voice faltered, barely a whisper. “You slept with someone else?”

He nodded, the movement slow and heavy as if even that small acknowledgment cost him more than he could bear. His eyes squeezed shut, and you saw the way his body caved in, the weight of his guilt making him look smaller, almost childlike in his vulnerability.

“I was drunk,” he repeated weakly, as if the words could somehow absolve him, could undo the act. “I didn't mean to. I— I didn't even know what was happening until it was already done, and I swear it didn't mean anything. And—and I regret it more than anything in my life.” He finally looked at you, eyes pleading for some kind of understanding, but you just stared at him, frozen in shock.

The room was too quiet now, the ticking of the clock on the wall loud and intrusive, marking the seconds since your world had come crashing down. You couldn’t find anger—it would’ve been easier if you could—but instead, there was only a hollow ache, a sadness that settled deep in your bones, far too deep to be soothed by words.

Tears blurred your vision, slipping down your cheeks before you even realized they had begun to fall. Jack saw them and flinched, his face twisting in anguish. He reached for you, but his hands fell away at the last second, as if he already knew you wouldn’t want his touch—not now. Not after this.

“Please, say something,” he begged, his voice cracking under the pressure. “Please… yell at me, scream, do something. I deserve it, I know I do. Just—just talk to me. I can’t stand this.”

But you couldn’t. There were no words strong enough to capture the hurt that spread through your chest, the weight that pressed against your ribs, making it hard to breathe. The man you loved, the man who had promised to be yours, had betrayed you in the worst way, and now he was asking for absolution. But forgiveness wasn’t something you could give—not yet, maybe not ever. You stared at the coffee table, at the space where your knees almost brushed his, but you couldn't bring yourself to even acknowledge his presence.

You finally forced the words out, a broken whisper that barely filled the space between you. “Why? Why would you do that to us? After everything…”

“I don’t know,” Jack said desperately, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “I really don’t. I was stupid, and I wasn’t thinking straight. I was drunk, and I— I lost myself. But I love you. You know I do, right? Please… you have to believe me. It was a mistake, the biggest one I've ever made, but it doesn't change how I feel about you.”

“How can you even say that? How can you say you love me when you had sex with another woman?” you asked, your voice still barely audible to Jack.

His face crumpled as though your words had struck him physically, a visible blow to the heart. "Because it’s the truth. I love you more than anything, and I regret it every second. I’ll do anything to make this right—just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it."

But there was nothing he could do. The damage had been done. You stared at him, at the boy who had once been your everything, but now… now he was a stranger. You shook your head slowly, your eyes glassy and distant. “I don’t think I can do this, Jack.”

The words came out softly, but they hit him like a freight train. His face paled, panic rising in his eyes as he leaned forward grasping for your hand, but you pulled it away. “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. We can fix this. I’ll do anything, just tell me what you need.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time, you didn’t recognize the man sitting in front of you. This wasn’t the Jack you fell in love with, the man who had always made you feel safe and loved. The man sitting across from you was someone who had shattered your trust, and no matter how much you wished it wasn’t true, you couldn’t see him the same way anymore.

“I need you to go,” you said softly, your voice breaking on the last word. Your heart broke all over again as the words tumbled from your lips, but you knew they had to be said.

Jack froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. “What? No— no, please. Don’t do this. Don’t push me away. We can work through it. We have to.”

The anguish in his voice sent a fresh wave of panic crashing over you. You wanted to believe him, wanted to let him pull you into his arms and promise you that things could go back to the way they were before. But the damage was done, and no amount of empty promises could mend what had been broken.

Your lips trembled as you shook your head, the tears that had been gathering finally spilling over, tracing hot paths down your cheeks. “I need time, Jack. I need space to think about everything. I don’t know if I can ever look at you the same way again, and I can’t do this right now. I just… I need you to go.”

He looked at you, stricken, as though his world was crumbling around him. “Please, baby, don’t do this,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You said ten minutes ago that we could work through anything.”

You swallowed hard, fighting the sob that threatened to break free. “That was before I knew how you betrayed me. How you betrayed us.”

You forced yourself to stand, your legs trembling beneath you as you turned away from him. You needed space — anything to dull the ache in your chest. Jack stood too, but he kept his distance, as if afraid that any wrong move might push you further away. His voice was barely a whisper now, fragile, as though even he knew it wouldn’t be enough to reach you.

“There’s… there’s gotta be a way we can work past this,” Jack said. You turned to look at him, your eyes bloodshot, the grief etched into every inch of your face. Jack felt his heart crack in two at the sight of you, your once-bright spirit now shadowed by the weight of betrayal. “I mean, I can’t imagine my life without you. Y-you’re such a good person, and I know I don’t deserve you but… I can’t not have you in my life, y/n. I need you— I need us.”

Both your faces now had matching streaks, your tears unchecked and relentless as they soaked your shirts. He reached out for you once more, and this time, you didn’t pull away. He cautiously placed his hand on your arm, then slid it to your waist, his touch trembling with uncertainty. Slowly, he sank to his knees in front of you, wrapping his arms around your waist as if holding on for dear life, pressing his face into your stomach.

Your body shook with sobs, the pain too much to contain. “I can’t,” you choked out through your tears. “I don’t know how I can be with you without seeing you as the man who broke my heart. I just… I just can’t stop picturing you with someone else, Jack. It’s changed everything.”

You stepped out of his grasp, the connection severed, leaving Jack kneeling there, his arms hanging limply at his sides. Slowly, he stood, his movements sluggish, weighed down by the overwhelming guilt and grief. He could see it in your eyes—the decision had already been made. The door to your heart had closed, and no matter how much he wanted to tear it down and beg for another chance, he knew he was on the outside now. He had lost you.

Jack stepped around you, pausing at the doorway, turning to look at you one last time. His face was etched with regret, his voice a broken whisper. “I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes filled with the sorrow of a man who knew he had thrown away the best thing he ever had. “I’m so sorry.”

The soft click of the door echoed in the apartment, a final punctuation to the end of what once had been everything. The silence that followed felt oppressive, heavy with all the words left unspoken, all the promises that had been broken.

You moved numbly to the couch, collapsing onto the cushions as if your body could no longer hold the weight of your grief. Your arms wrapped around your knees, hugging yourself tightly, as if the pressure could keep the jagged pieces of your heart from spilling out. But no matter how tightly you held on, the pain seeped through the cracks, a constant, relentless ache that wouldn’t be ignored.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #nhl imagine #nhl #hockey #hockey imagine #new jersey devils #jh86 #`✦ˑ ✒️ 𓂃⊹ my works

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