#but I want to make sure that if anything - if it suddenly goes beyond this blog or you go to 1-1 level

[miniwheat77]

Co-Star. (Ghost x Reader.)

!NSFW, Smut, cheating, unprotected p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), sex coaching, proceed with caution, NO MINORS!

Merry early Christmas, please enjoy this pure filth! Love you guys <3

Unedited*

You smile sympathetically as you push his hips back. “I’m sorry Johnny, it’s not you.” You mumble. “I can keep going, doesn’t matter if I’ve… finished.” He mumbles. “No, it’s okay. I’m too sensitive.” You laugh. “You want me to try anything else?”

“No- no it’s okay.”

That’s usually how it went when the two of you were intimate. It didn’t matter how long Johnny lasted or what he changed, it never seemed to be enough. No matter what he did. He was frustrated with himself for not being able to get you there.

When he arrived home, he saw Ghost sitting on their shared couch. He was watching a show. Johnny knew about his reputation with women. He sighs.

“Something the matter Johnny?”

“No. Well… yeah.” He mumbles. He walks into the room completely and sits down. Ghost pauses the show. “What’s going on?”

“It’s awkward.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… every time Y/N and I-“ he pauses. “Are intimate, I can’t satisfy her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Literally nothing I do will get her there.”

Ghost goes quiet for a second, crossing his leg over the other. “You rub her clit when you fuck her?” He asks, tipping his beer bottle back and taking a swig. “Christ… uh. Yeah. Yeah I’ve tried everything.”

“I mean I can go down the line but it’s not hands on so it won’t stick.” He shrugs.

An idea suddenly comes to Johnny’s mind. “If I ask her and she’s into it… you think you can show me?”

Ghost immediately feels the pit forming in his lower stomach, arousal.

“You mean you want me to fuck her?”

“To show me how to.. make her cum. Yeah I guess so.”

“Nothing weird though, right?” Ghost narrows his eyes. Johnny looks at him. Ghost stands up, stretching. “Obviously. I guess I’ll talk to her. Thank you Ghost.”

“Course Johnny.”

Ghost has to go take a shower and relieve himself. The thought of being inside you after being teased by you multiple times a week is overwhelming him.

A couple days later when Johnny is at your house again, he’s unsure how to bring it up to you. He wants his step brother to fuck you so that he can take notes and then MAYBE he’ll be able to make you cum? It sounds crazy to him even, how he’s supposed to get you to agree is beyond him.

“Johnny, you okay?” You pause the movie. He’s been acting weird all night.

“Uh.. yeah.” He mumbles. “You sure? You’ve been acting funny all night.” You sigh. You sit up on the couch, you’d been laying with your legs draped across him. “I.. I was talking to Ghost about… how I can’t satisfy you.” Your eyes widen. “Johnny!”

“I know I know. It’s not your thing to tell others about our sex life but I just want to be able to make you cum.” He laughs. “But I have a really weird request.” You look at him awkward. “He agreed to help me. Because obviously I’m not going to learn just by what he says.” You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?” You ask.

He chews on his lip nervously. “I mean.. if you’re okay with it. He’s going to show me how to please you. Hands on.”

“What do you mean Johnny? How is he supposed to show you anything hands on without touching m-“ you cut yourself off, eyes going wide. “Woah! Woah. No way. No fucking way Johnny.” You stand up. “Look.. I know it’s a lot to ask. I know.”

“Of course it’s a lot to ask, you’re asking me to have sex with another guy! Your step brother of all people. Christ Johnny.” You sigh. “Look. It’s just once. Just once so that I’ll be able to make you cum every time we have sex. Just once Y/N.” You close your eyes. “One time for the rest of our lives together.” He smiles. “I’ll think about it Johnny.” You mumble. “Okay. Awesome.” He smiles.

So you do. For a few days you think about what he wants you to do.

Have sex with someone else.

Sleeping with Ghost was definitely not on your mind. You liked him of course, you got along well and shared a few of the same hobbies with him. But you were okay just being his sister-in-law someday.

Having sex with Johnny once was enough to convince you. It was so bad and you had no idea why.

So the very next morning you approached him about it.

———

“Are you sure about this?” You ask him. He’s just pulled into the driveway of his shared house with Ghost. He laughs, clearly seeing how nervous you’ve gotten. “Are YOU sure about this?” He smiles. You sigh.

“I guess so.” You mumble. You follow Johnny into the house and see Ghost sitting on the couch. He finishes off his beer and stands up, turning the TV off.

You cross your arms with a sigh as the three of you stand there staring at each other. “This is as awkward as it’s going to get, let’s get this over with.” You turn your back and head into Johnny’s room.

You start tugging your clothes off. Jacket and shoes coming first, Johnny and Ghost watch until you’re in your bra and jeans. “Alright. You two get started I’ll be back in like… 10 minutes to see what you’re doing wrong.” Ghost mumbles, heading into his bedroom just down the hall. The wall is shared and he rests up against it like he has before, listening to you. You sound so pretty.

But you don’t sound nearly as good as you could. He wants to hear you when you cum.

He listens for a while. He finally has enough, going in. Knocking at the door before he just walks right in. “Anything feel different?” He asks. You chew at your lip, shaking your head. Johnny sighs.

“Alright. I didn’t even need to see it to know you’re really bad at this, Johnny.” He snorts. Johnny rolls his eyes. “Move away, I’ll show you.” Johnny stands up, sliding himself back into his jeans. Ghost moves toward you, your nerves are completely shot as he throws the blanket off of you, revealing you to him completely. You’re nervous. He’s very blunt in his movements.

He wipes his lips with his sleeve, trying to distract himself from you. He grasps two pillows, sliding one under your head. “Raise your hips up.” He nods, helping raise your hips as he slides it under you. “It’ll help raise her pelvis so that you can go deeper.” He glances at Johnny. He nods his head. “Got it.. just. Do your thing.” He mumbles.

Ghost reaches for his waistband. You swallow hard, making eye contact with Johnny. You’re clearly very nervous. “S’alright, no need to be nervous. Just try to relax.” Ghost has exposed himself to you. He’s moved himself between your legs. “When people say that bullshit on TV about foreplay it’s true. It’s easier to cum the more turned on you are.” He mumbles, sliding into you. Your eyes widen, clutching at the sheets. He fills you up to the hilt, cock deeper than you’ve ever felt. “Does it feel better?” He asks. You swallow hard, nodding your head. “Y-yeah.” You breathe.

“Alright. Sometimes you have to adjust the way you’re angled-“ he moves a little bit and thrusts a couple of times, trying to get a feel for you. He lowers himself slightly, adjusting just right and thrusting. When he hears you gasp, feeling you tighten around him. “To find that spot.” He takes a deep breath. “Once you find it, don’t move or adjust and keep hitting it.” Ghost is thrusting, not too fast and not too slow. “O-oh god.” You breathe. Feeling yourself tighten around him. He clears his throat, turning to look at Johnny. He’s watching you intensely. Seeing that you’re obviously on the edge, as you’ve never looked like this before. “When she’s close, don’t move and don’t pick up the speed. If you do, you’ll lose your rhythm and overstimulate her without getting her there. I assume that’s what happens regularly.” He breathes. He reaches down between you, thumb pressing into your clit. “Not too hard now..” he breathes. Gentle touches and gentle circles.

Tears gather in your eyes, you’re right there. “Oh fuck!” You hiccup. “Go ahead, cum for me.”

Johnny’s cock is hard, the way you’re reacting is something he hadn’t ever seen before. Your eyes roll back, screwing shut as you reach your peak around Ghost. He thrusts a couple more times to ride your high out completely before pulling out of you.

He stands up. He wants nothing more than to kiss you. To help you come down from your high. But it’s not his place and he knows it. “You get the idea Johnny. Just.. take your time with her.” Ghost needs to hurry, he’s about to lose that high. He excuses himself quickly, hopping right into the shower. He realizes that he’d forgotten a condom completely. He’d just fucked you raw right in front of Johnny and nobody stopped him.

“You alright?” Johnny asks. “Uh.. yeah. Yeah. It’s getting a little late though. I have work tomorrow.” You mumble. You stand up but your legs buckle. Johnny laughs. “He uh.. really knows his stuff huh?” He jokes. You smile nervously. “Yeah, yeah he does.” You mumble. You say goodbye to Johnny, leaving to your apartment.

The way you feel isn’t good. You’re not sure what these feelings are.

———

A few nights later, Johnny comes in. He’s clearly frustrated. “Everything alright Johnny?” Ghost asks. “No, I still can’t make her cum. I do everything you showed me and it just doesn’t work.” He groans, sitting down. “You know what… I’m gonna go out for a drink. You wanna come?” He asks. “No, I’m good. Got drills early tomorrow.” He laughs. “Loosen up Johnny, you’ll learn.” He mumbles. Johnny leaves and right as Ghost is changing, he hears a knock at the door. “Damnit, forgot his fucking keys that fast?” He mumbles under his breath, opening up the door. “Uh.. sorry to bother you.” You mumble. “Y/N? You know you don’t have to knock right?” He asks. “Oh yeah- yeah I know.” You shake your head. “Is Johnny here?” You ask. “Nah he just left, come in.” He moves to the side. He’s shirtless. “He said things didn’t go well.”

You shrug. “He just- acts like he’s in a hurry.” You breathe. “Tonight he just.. got mad and left right in the middle. Said.. it shouldn’t take me that long.” You laugh, cheeks red. He rolls his eyes. “He’ll get it one day.” He mumbles.

Ghost knows that what he’s thinking about is wrong. Pushing you down and spearing you on his cock until you’re sobbing. He hates that he can’t have you.

“Do.. do you think that-“ you pause. “I know it’s wrong but, can you help me?” You look up at him. His blood about freezes at that question, words he never imagined out of your mouth in a million years. “Y/N…” he mumbles. “Johnny would be pissed if he found out.”

You laugh, looking down. “Yeah- yeah you’re right. I know.”

“I just can’t shake the way you made me feel. I’ve never ever felt like that before.” You breathe. “Thanks anyways- sorry for bothering you.” You mumble, turning to walk out the door. He sighs. Reaching out for your wrist. “Wait.” He breathes. “Just once, and we keep it between us alright?” You nod your head. Before you realize the severity of what you’re doing, he’s pulling you into his bedroom.

He’s got a pillow under your hips in just a few seconds and your heart races in your chest. The excitement you feel to cum like this again is near pathetic. “Try to keep up with me, I’m gonna be rough.” He mumbles. You nod your head. He slides into you and gives you a few seconds to adjust. You’re full once again, relishing in the way he feels inside of you. He feels so much different from Johnny, just the slightest bit difference and you’re falling over that edge.

He pins your hips to the bed, starting his bruising thrusts into you. He’d usually warm you up with foreplay but he knows with Johnny out for a while, he doesn’t have that kind of time.

You whine out, hands clutching his bedsheets. He can’t believe this.

He’s inside of you again. And not for another fucking lesson, just because.

Just because you want him.

“Oh fuck!” You gasp. Your moans draw him back down to earth. “Fuck- you’re so fucking tight.” He hisses. Butterflies overload your stomach, you’re already close to your high. He hadn’t even touched your clit and you’re already there. “Simon-“ you mewl his actual name. He didn’t even know that you had known it. It’s unexpected and something he didn’t think he’d ever hear out of you. You cum around him and he doesn’t expect it, the tightening of you around him sends him flying into his own orgasm. Gasping out as he reaches it. He lets out a string of curses and moans as he cums, body tense and shaking. It’s by far the hardest he’s ever cum. “Fuck- fuck. I came inside.” He breathes. He draws back from you. “Shit..” you mumble. “It’s- it’s okay I’ll pick something up for it.” You pant. He nods. “You okay?” He asks. Now, he can comfort you. He can’t kiss you, he knows it. But he can comfort you.

He lets you calm down in his bed until you’re ready to leave, but when you get out to your car, the dread sets in.

The fact that you had just cheated on Johnny with his step brother.

You drive home in shambles.

When Johnny comes home, it’s late. But Ghost hasn’t slept. He can’t.

“Thought you said you had drills?” Johnny asks. “Yeah, can’t fucking sleep.” He mumbles. Breathing out. “I did something stupid.” He breathes. “What? What happened?”

“I fucked another girl.” Simon’s eyes widen. “Johnny.. seriously?”

“Yeah.. I don’t know how I’m gonna tell Y/N.”

Ghost shakes his head. “That’s the end of it yknow?” Johnny swallows hard. “What?”

“Doesn’t seem like the kind of girl to put up with it, that’s the end of your relationship.”

Ghost picks a water up out of the fridge. “That sucks, rather liked Y/N, she’s a good girl.” He sighs. Walking back into his room. Johnny takes a deep breath. He hasn’t thought this through. The end, he hadn’t thought about it.

The next day, when Ghost comes home from work, Johnny isn’t home.

He’s not usually but this time, he wonders what’s going on. If the two of you will come clean or try to work things out. If Johnny will come right home and sock him right in the face, Ghost wouldn’t blame him. He kind’ve deserves it actually.

He hears him pull into the driveway, and he walks in with a box of his stuff. “So.. it didn’t go well?” Ghost mumbles. “Nah- it went alright.” He mumbles. “It did?” He nods. “Yeah. She came clean about something though.” Ghosts hair raises, he just knows he’s gonna have to fight Johnny off.

“She said that after that day- when you fucked her to show me how to make her cum, she caught feelings for you. Told me she forgives me but it wouldn’t have worked out anyways.”

“Wait- what?” Ghost mumbles.

“Yeah. So I gave her your number.” He laughs. “Would you even be okay with that?” Ghost is taken completely off guard. “I like Y/N, don’t get me wrong. I thought I’d be more broken up about it. But the intimacy just wasn’t there. She felt more like.. a sister than a girlfriend. I’m glad it’s going this way. Besides, I’ve seen the way you look at her. I know you like her.” Ghost takes a deep breath. His phone buzzes in his pocket.

‘Hey. Want to meet?’

Ghost doesn’t even need to ask to know who it is.

“Go get her, Riley.” Johnny laughs. “There’s no way you’re okay with this-“

“Ghost. Stop being stubborn. I’ve got a fox waiting for me at the bar, just go.” He laughs. He disappears into his room. Ghost swallows hard, typing back quickly on his phone.

‘On my way.’

He can’t believe this is happening.

He drives way too fast to get to your apartment. Knowing right where to go. He pulls into the parking lot and parks. Throwing the door open and slamming it shut.

He hurries up to your door, knocking a couple times. You open it pretty quick, you’d obviously been waiting. He leans on the frame, smiling.

“Caught feelings, hm?”

You roll your eyes. “So you’ve talked to Johnny, I see.”

He smirks. Stepping into your apartment and closing the door behind him. Locking it. “Yeah, yeah I did. You tell him about last night?” He asks. “I actually left that part out, so keep your mouth shut or else, Riley.” You mumble. “Ah- he’s busy with that girl from the bar. He doesn’t care.”

“Good.” You smirk.

He pushes you backward, lips finally meeting yours. He’s waited forever to feel your lips on his.

“How about I show you how I really do this, hm?” He smiles. He lifts you up by your thighs, walking into your bedroom with you. He lays you down on your bed, helping you get undressed. He takes his time with you. The drastic difference between him and Johnny is confusing.

He kisses you passionately, toying with your clit as he does. He’s working you up.

He kisses down your chest, he’s got you undressed and at his complete mercy. He moves down your body, worshipping you. When you feel his tongue on you, you go tense. Breathing out a jagged breath. “Deep breaths. Relax.” He breathes. You nod your head. He rests his hands on your thighs and you clutch them, moaning out as he starts again. Tonguing your clit. You pant out his name, trying to be as quiet as you can. “Oh fuck Simon-“ you shake. You clench your thighs together slightly, trying not to squish him. He laps at your clit with his tongue. Working you close to an orgasm. He squeezes your thighs with his arms.

His dick is hard and he ruts into the bed. Hearing you moan his name is nearly too much. He knows you’re his now, that he can fuck you and make you cum whenever he wants. He doesn’t have to worry about anyone finding out, or coming home. It’s just you and him together.

You let out a mewl when you cum, something so pretty. He can’t shake the way you make him feel.

He moves up the bed, not giving you much time to come down from your orgasm before he’s sliding into you. You gasp, but he kisses you to muffle it. He works his hips into yours. Grasping your thighs and lifting your hips as he fucks you. Screwing his hips into yours, his bruising pace is brutal. You can barely catch your breath. You clutch his wrist, feeling his muscles clench under your grasp. “Fuck! How are you so good at this?” You cry. He smirks. “Just a natural sweetheart. Focus on cumming for me.” He laughs, it’s taunting.

He slows down, taking in a sharp breath. “Let’s do it my favorite way hm? Can’t let you have all of the fun.” He moves you, forcing you up onto your hands and knees, moving himself behind you. He rests his hand on the middle of your back, pushing down. You arch your back, laying your head into the pillow. Ass up for him. He lines up with you, sliding into you. He lets you adjust, he’s deeper than usual and he doesn’t want to hurt you. It doesn’t take long.

He finds that spot, finding that pace. He’s got you crying into your pillow in just a few minutes. His hands grip your hips hard, sure to leave bruises there. You can’t wait to wake up and see them in the morning. He grasps a handful of your hair and forces you up, hearing you gasp. “How about you be a good girl and cum on my cock, hm?” You shiver at his tone. It’s unexpected. You whine out. He lifts you up until your back is flush with his chest. “Need some help darling?” He laughs. He makes you feel pathetic. He glides his hand down your stomach, moving lower. You whimper at the thought of him touching your clit.

It’ll send you right over the edge.

He brushes his fingertip over it, hearing you mewl. “Please- keep touching it.” You cry. “Ask nice baby.” He grits his teeth. “Please Simon- please keep touching my clit.” You’re nearly sobbing as you ask. He puts more pressure on it, circling it. You cry out his name again. He can feel you clamping down around him. About to cum again. “That’s it… atta girl Y/N. Cum now pretty girl.”

You fall forward but he doesn’t stop, finger still circling your clit and keeping his pace as he finishes you off. Tears escape your eyes this time, and you’d thought he’d made you feel good before, but this time was different. Your eyes widen when you feel him cum, feeling it this time. He cums deep.

You gasp as he takes one last thrust, feeling the warmth fill you.

You’re panting, eyes screwed shut. Your cheeks are flushed and wet from tears.

He laughs at you. How you’re exhausted and completely fucked out.

“Fuck you’re good at that.” You laugh. Sitting up. He turns your head, kissing you deeply. “I hope you know this means you’re mine.” He breathes. “Thank god, I can’t go through this again.” You laugh.

“Were you crying? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No- no not at all. You just overwhelmed me that’s all.” You laugh. “Scared me for a second, thought I was too rough.” He snorts. “Not at all.” You breathe. “Let’s get cleaned up. I’ll buy you dinner.” He helps you off of the bed, your knees buckle before you can take a step but he’s quick to catch you.

“Jesus.” He laughs. “Maybe I am really good at this.” He smirks. You roll your eyes. “Very humble of you.”

“Shut up before I make you cry again.” He pushes you forward to your bathroom.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

[livelaughloveluffy]

comfort - trafalgar water d. law

a/n: listen... i was always a law simp pre-wano..... but wano law 😭😭😭 you will always be famous. and the brain rot is just so intense for him that i had to write this fic

a/n: i'm still adjusting to my antidepressants and literally have 9 labs due this week so forgive me for not being insanely active; i'm mainly just trying to survive 💀

nothing but fluff here! 💗

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when he comforts you:

-the captain goes above and beyond to silently help you out. chores you were supposed to do around the polar tang are miraculously already done, a cold glass of water and a small snack left on your nightstand when you wake up, your laundry folded and put away.

-and it doesn't stop at that. law wants to make sure you can relax and destress, so this sweet man will run you a bath, dimly lit with candles and a glass of wine, and he'll stay to gently wash your hair and give back massages. fully allowing you to just enjoy the warmth of the soapy water and his touch.

-he'll always make time in his schedule for cuddles, even if that means the two of you are crammed into his desk chair, he'll hold you tight to him, gently stroke your hair, and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

-while advice isn't law's strongest area of expertise (he's much too pessimistic and blunt for that 💀) he is a fantastic listener. once he knows you aren't looking for a solution to your problems but just someone to support you while you rant, he'll sit through hours and hours of ranting and rambling, attentive eyes on you, his hand on the smalls of your back rubbing soft circles into you, even when he's busy he'll always lend an ear to your problems and a shoulder to cry on.

-he's a lot more affectionate than usual when he notices you haven't been yourself. pda suddenly doesn't bother him anymore, and he won't leave a room before giving you some kisses, his arm will be around your waist as he address the crew, or he'll grab your hand and intertwine his fingers with yours.

-when you're sick, injured, or on your period: law will provide literally the best cuddles you could ever ask for, his silk sheets against your body, the smell of his cologne filling the room, his warm body next to yours, your head on his chest, he'll let your fingers trace over the lines of his tattoos with absolutely no protesting. he's going to do the most for you, and if you didn't know him as well as you do, you'd truly have no idea who was leaving little chocolates and love notes on your pillow, a new book on your bed, your favorite drink stocked up in the fridge, and the fresh flowers on your nightstand everyday. he'll never address it or come out to take credit for it, he'd just do it. the captain will shower you in kisses much more than usual, on your cheek, the top of your head, a small peck on your lips, he's much more affectionate as its the subtle way he expresses his love and worry for you.

when he needs comforting:

-law is not the kind of guy to talk about his problems. a lot of this is because he struggles with verbalizing his feelings, worries, and stresses, but also because he doesn't find any relief in it. you instantly know when the captain needs you by the way he asked for you to meet him in his office. the second the door closes, he's picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding you so close to him, the faint scent of bourbon vanilla fills your nose as you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

-there's nothing the captain loves more than the feeling of your fingers tangled up in his soft dark raven locks, with your face resting against his chest you can hear the way his heart beat slightly slows fully enjoying the sensation of your touch.

-law finds lots of solace in hearing your voice, it's simply music to his ears. he'll listen to stories about your past or adventures you've been on, rambles about your hobbies, what you did today, anything and everything. he loves the distraction it provides him as well as the comforting ambient noise it provides while he works.

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a/n: soft law my beloved 😭😭😭😭😭 i totally forgot the whole "when you're sick" section of this fic when i first posted it, so i panic wrote that shit so damn fast 💀 it's been a minute since i wrote one of these 😭😭

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

a/n: if you are interested in being added to my taglist: here's a google form!!!

[fireflyinks]

we need more soft hamzah!!!!!!!!!!

soft!hamzah headcannons

a/n : okay so by “soft!hamzah” i mean that he is absolutely down bad for you, is literally so sweet and just has a soft spot for you in general! tysm for requesting, love you guys sm 🫀 also i am currently writing this at 2:00 am so if there are any errors I AM SORRY my sleep schedule is so beyond repair, much love

contains : fluff, no smut, me being down bad

- okay so soft!hamzah is so AHSHBDKENDHDBS i like im actually so down bad

- i’m imagining him literally screaming at martin over some game and then the moment you say a word to him he is suddenly so sweet

- “martin, hold on, yes sweetheart?”

- he literally melts the moment you touch him

- do NOT cuddle this man unless you’re okay with him being on top of you and basically suffocating you

- sitting in his lap while he edits / plays games (thinking about my last fic 🫠)

- he loves to run his fingers through your hair and play with it absentmindedly. he also learned to braid just so he could do it when he gets bored

- imagine him watching a ten minute braiding tutorial and being LAZER FOCUSED LMAO

- NICKNAMES AHHH, like i said earlier probably sweetheart, love, baby, babe, princess, and anything else he can come up with or he knows you like

- he’s not big on pda in public just because that’s not the type of person he is, but if you’re feeling overwhelmed or shy, you cling onto his arm for dear life

- he loves baking with you and making a mess. by the time the food’s done you are both covered in ingredients

- he loves making tiktoks with you (yall definitely lip-synced promiscuous) AND the “intertwined, sewn together” trend with the bracelets 🤭

- SPEAKING OF BRACELETS if you make this man a bracelet he will wear it forever. i mean FOREVER. that thing is crusting on his wrist till the end of time.

- this goes for anything you make for him / give him, and he takes care of it like it’s his most prized possession (because it’s lowkey is). like yes he has the succulent you randomly bought him on his desk, and YES he researched how often he should water it and how much sunlight it needs. that thing is his baby.

- hamzah literally folds when you play with his curls, to the point that it’s part of you nightly routine. shower, pajamas, skin care, run your fingers through hamzah’s hair until he falls asleep

- invites you on the podcast all the time!!! if you’re shy he’ll make sure you’re comfortable and help you make conversation 😋

- PRINCESS TREATMENT, he will literally kneel down in front of you to tie your shoes the moment he notices they’re untied. at this point he notices faster than you do

- “hold on, i wouldn’t want my princess to trip”

- he’s the best person to vent to, imagine sitting on his lap and him wiping your tears while you tell him about your bad day :( he is ENGAGED too, like if you complain about your coworker they are suddenly dead to him

- i love soft!hamzah sm :(((

[captain-hawks]

you want to blame it on the sheer amount of people packed into mattsun’s small, tenth floor apartment—the way it’s suddenly difficult to breathe.

at least that’s what you mutter to makki as you excuse yourself and head toward the balcony’s reprieve, your drink forgotten on the coffee table as you step out into the frigid winter air.

but fuck if the familiar, warm scent of iwaizumi’s cologne doesn’t invade your nostrils a moment later anyway, something you’re beyond embarrassed to recognize with your eyes closed.

you don’t turn around as the sliding door clicks shut, eyes trained on some unremarkable landmark in the distance that you can’t quite make out in the darkness. and as he comes to stand beside you, forearms leaning on the metal handrail inches away from your own, you’re not sure if the slight shiver that wracks its way down your spine is from the flakes of snow that have begun to settle on your bare arms or his maddening proximity.

you can’t fucking stand it—this unceremonious collapse of your lungs in his presence, the blistering heat that prickles down your neck and closes tightly around your throat.

something soft and warm settles around your shoulders, and your throat goes dry as the zipper of his jacket brushes against your neck.

“where’s your girlfriend?” you ask, hoping the question doesn’t sound as pathetic as you feel.

it’s funny how these things work—you spent years trying to get over your silly high school crush, only for all of it to come crashing back down in your lap gathered at the bar with friends celebrating his return to japan after uni.

it’s funny—the way you could hardly remember the name of the guy you were casually seeing in that moment as you watched iwaizumi walk in with a pretty girl clutching his elbow.

iwa laughs quietly, and it’s a little rough, a bit self-deprecating. “where’s your boyfriend?”

it’s funny—the odd curve of his tone on the last word.

“don’t have one,” you reply, casting him a sideways glance, his expression unreadable.

“she told me she wanted to move to japan with me,” he says carefully, exhaling a cloud of warm air as his gaze sweeps to the skyline.

your heart sinks.

“and?”

“and i told her i wanted to break up.”

you whip around to face him, convinced you heard him wrong. “you what?”

he reaches across the space between your bodies, hands grasping the bottom edges of the jacket and zipping it up to your chin (and it’s so goddamn reminiscent of the way he used to chide you for not dressing properly on the walk to school that you sway a little on your feet).

you can’t help the way you nudge his foot in return just like you always used to—it’s muscle memory, more than anything else.

and yet you’re not anticipating the way he still follows up in kind, hooking a foot around the back of your ankle, muttering about your shit choice of shoes in the dead of winter. while it’s hardly a tap, it’s enough to make you take a step forward in surprise as the lines between the past and present begin to blur, stumbling slightly.

two hands at your waist steady you, and despite the layers between his palms and your hips, your nerve endings ignite.

“coming home made me realize that even moving to the other side of the world wouldn’t stop me from wondering,” he says softly, snowflakes accumulating in his mussed brown hair.

“wondering what, iwaizumi?”

he doesn’t answer you for a moment, just stares at you with an intensity that makes you briefly question the physics of spontaneous combustion.

“what it’d be like to hear you call me by my name for once,” he murmurs. “what it’d be like to do this, if you’d let me.” carefully, he traces the curve of your bottom lip, his touch feather-light.

your legs wobble, just a little, and iwaizumi’s left hip and thigh press up against you. it’s a weather phenomenon, the way everything goes quiet during snow fall—but it’d all be drowned out either way right now against the erratic thrumming behind your ribcage.

“i missed you, hajime,” you whisper, the syllables heavy on your tongue—they’re at odds with this dizzy lightness in your chest.

his eyes fall shut for a beat, lips curving upward in a faint smile, his fingers twitching subtly at your waist.

you begin to lean forward, and there’s a quiet sigh of relief that falls from his lips before he cups your face in both of his hands, his mouth crashing into yours.

[wholoveseggs]

Maybe an elijah x Reader where the Reader is a bit shy about sex and really wants to try out face riding, but is insecure about her weight like that she's scared she'll hurt him or something like that. So somehow elijah finds out (for example thru a dream which he enters) and does it, but she'll try to pull away at the beginning still scared of hurting him and he'll pull her down.

If possible with lots of praise, overstimulation, elijah being dominant, hand kink, sir kink, elijah being a sweetheart, and aftercare?

Soft

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You've been dating Elijah for a while, but your insecurities keep you from taking things further. But one night, Elijah finally gets the chance to show you how much he loves your curves.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @magicaleaglecloud, I've written a similar fic on this subject called Reminder, but I love this idea so much I'm happy to write more. ♡♡

♡♡ This once again goes out to all my thick thighed brothers and sisters! ♡♡

3.4k words - Warnings: smut, fluff, oral sex, sex dreams, insecure reader, body issues, soft dom!elijah, slight sir!kink, face sitting, fingering, little bit of spanking, tinsy bit of overstim, a fun history fact about beauty standards, praise, kisses & lots of sweetness ♡♡♡

You were beyond nervous, and it showed. You and your boyfriend Elijah Mikaelson had been dating for the last year, and while you loved each other and you wanted to sleep with him, you had been putting it off.

It wasn't anything to do with him, of course. It had everything to do with your insecurities. You didn't fit the current beauty standard. You weren't as skinny as some of the girls Elijah had been with before you. Your hips and thighs touched, you had a stomach, and your breasts were bigger than you liked.

And while you had seen Elijah's eyes roam your body whenever you were with him. You couldn't help but wonder if he secretly felt the same.

You knew you couldn't hold off forever. The thought of being so naked and exposed was beyond scary. But you wanted to be with him in every sense of the word. And you knew you needed to get over yourself.

The plan was to stay the night at his place, a big step for the two of you. You would be spending the night with him. Sleeping in the same bed. And maybe, hopefully, doing other things.

You spent far too much time getting ready, making sure your skin was as flawless as possible, and your hair was just right. You packed the sexiest sleepwear you owned, a deep blue satin nightgown that fell mid-thigh.

Elijah had made reservations at your favorite restaurant, and the entire meal had been magical. Although, you didn't want to eat a lot in front of him. There was always so much shame around your body, and you didn't want him to see it.

"So I'm thinking we can have some wine and relax. Maybe watch a movie or two," Elijah said as he parked the car in front of his house.

"Sounds great." You smiled and took a breath, trying to calm yourself down.

He took your hand, sensing your unease, you were so beautiful and lovely, and he couldn't understand why you were so hard on yourself. He never wanted you to feel that way.

The evening had been perfect. You watched movies, you talked, and you drank the wine, and you felt the tension slowly slipping from your body. He kissed you and it had quickly grown passionate, his lips moving down your neck and you moaned his name.

You weren't sure how it happened, but he was suddenly on top of you, and the feel of his large frame pressed into yours had been amazing. But you felt your anxiety start to bubble to the surface.

"Elijah, wait," you said softly, gently pushing against his chest.

"What's wrong?" He asked, immediately concerned.

"I'm sorry, it's nothing. I just...can I have a moment?" You said, feeling a mix of embarrassed and scared.

"Of course," he said, getting up and allowing you to move from the couch. "Let's go back to the bedroom. We don't have to do anything."

"I'm sorry." You said as he pulled you into his arms, kissing the top of your head.

"Darling, there is nothing to be sorry about." He said, leading you to his bedroom. "Why don't you get ready for bed? I'm going to take a shower," he said, sensing that you needed a moment alone.

You smiled, feeling like you could breathe. You loved him so much. You were so lucky to have him.

You changed into your nightgown and pulled out your lotion and went about the process of rubbing it into your legs and arms.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in his floor length mirror, and your insecurities came rushing back.

The material clung to you in all the wrong ways. It hugged your hips and stomach and breasts. You frowned, hating the sight. You quickly pulled the blankets down and crawled into bed. There was no way you could let him see you like this.

You tried not to cry, feeling such shame and humiliation, you decided to just sleep and pretend the evening didn't happen.

When Elijah returned, you had fully fallen asleep. He frowned slightly, wishing he could read your mind, wishing he could know what to say. You were so beautiful. How could you not see it?

He slipped into bed beside you and smiled when you instinctively curled into him. You looked so peaceful, and he didn't have the heart to wake you.

The blankets were pulled down a bit, the swell of your breasts clearly visible. And it was impossible not to look.

He loved your body. He loved your curves. He loved the way you felt in his arms. So soft and warm.

You made a quiet little noise and pressed closer to him, and he felt himself harden. It was impossible not to.

Your eyes were moving under your eyelids and your breathing was uneven. Your hands gripped at him, pulling him closer.

"Are you dreaming, my beautiful girl?" Elijah said, brushing the hair away from your face.

"Hmm, Elijah," you moaned quietly, your hips moving and pressing into him.

He smiled, curious about what was going on in your mind, wondering what you were dreaming about.

"Fuck," you said, moving your hips again.

He couldn't help it, he had to know.

His hand gently caressed the side of your face, and then he slowly pressed into your mind, feeling the sensations your dream was causing.

He saw you straddling his face, your hands gripping the headboard, and he could practically taste you on his tongue. You were completely unbidden, your beautiful body bouncing above him, and his large hands gripped your hips.

Elijah pulled out of your mind, groaning at the vision.

"Mm, please," you whimpered, and he was so tempted.

He looked down, your nipples were straining against the material of your gown. Your eyebrows arched, and you moved against him.

"Elijah." You sighed his name, and it was too much.

He couldn't possibly leave this fantasy of yours to the dream world. He had to give you what you needed.

He whispered your name, gently biting down on your earlobe, and you woke with a gasp.

"Elijah." Your voice was thick and sleepy, and it did things to him.

"Did you have a good dream?" He said, kissing along your neck and sucking lightly on your pulse point.

"Yes." You moaned, unable to deny it.

"Tell me," he said, pulling the blankets back, his hands roaming over your body.

"You...we..." You moaned, unsure of how to tell him.

He kissed down your neck, his hands moving down to grip your ass and pull you against him.

"You are so sweet and shy. It's adorable." He smiled, loving the way you blushed.

He started kissing his way down your body, and it was clear where he was headed. His hands dipped under your gown and pushed the material up and over your breasts.

"Elijah." You moaned, trying to cover yourself.

"No." He said, taking your wrists and placing them by your sides. "Don't hide from me. I want to see all of you."

You nodded, closing your eyes as he kissed along your breasts and took a nipple into his mouth. You moaned, arching up into him, loving the way he felt against you.

"So beautiful," he whispered, his lips ghosting over your skin.

He moved further down your body, and his hands gripped your thighs, gently pulling them apart. His lips ghosted over your stomach and you felt yourself tensing up.

"Elijah," you whispered, wanting to stop him, but the feel of his mouth so close to where you were aching for him was too much.

He gently bit down on the soft flesh of your thighs, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin.

"So fucking sexy." He said, looking up at you, his eyes full of lust.

"Wait," you said, sitting up and covering yourself, "I...you don't have to."

He pushed you back down, grabbing your wrists and holding them by your sides.

"Stop. Please, my love. Don't be ashamed." He said, kissing the swell of your stomach and moving further down.

"But..." you moaned, feeling his mouth between your legs, and your words died in your throat.

His mouth was gentle and slow, and he teased your clit, taking his time with you. His tongue moved in lazy circles, and he gently sucked, making you squirm and moan his name.

"Fuck, you taste so good." He groaned, loving the way you moved.

His fingers replaced his tongue and he pushed two inside of you. Moving up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

"Tell me what you like," he said, moving his fingers slowly, wanting to see what made you squirm.

"I like...when you do that." You gasped, his fingers moving deeper and hitting a spot that had you seeing stars.

He kissed along your neck, and he gently nipped at your pulse point, and he could feel your heartbeat quicken.

"You like my fingers baby?" He said, and his words were doing things to you.

"Mmhmm." You moaned, closing your eyes and giving in to the pleasure.

He started moving his fingers faster, curling them with each thrust. And then he pushed a third finger inside of you, stretching you open, and his thumb moved in slow circles over your clit.

"Fuck, oh god. Don't stop. Please." You begged, rocking your hips.

"You're so beautiful. I love the way you move." He said, his hand moving down to grip your thigh and hold you open.

"Please. Please. Fuck, I need..." You gasped, and his mouth covered yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth, and he swallowed your moans.

"You need to cum, is that it, sweet girl?" He asked, and you couldn't believe he was saying these things to you.

"Please, sir." You moaned, and the word slipped out before you could stop yourself.

He grinned, loving the way it sounded, and he wanted to hear it again.

"Cum for me, now." He said, his fingers moving faster, and his thumb pressing against your clit.

The combination was enough to send you over the edge, and the orgasm was powerful, leaving you a shaking mess, moaning his name.

You opened your eyes, and you could see him staring at you. Your cheeks flushed, and you closed your eyes.

"Open your eyes." He commanded, and you obeyed, meeting his gaze.

"There's my beautiful girl. Now, come sit on my face."

"What?" You were sure you heard him wrong.

"Sit on my face. Now." He repeated.

"I...um..." You started, but he cut you off, grabbing your hips and moving you above him.

"That's a good girl." He said, helping you place your knees on either side of his face.

You were trembling, scared that you were too heavy. That the angle was wrong. You wanted to cover yourself. You were so vulnerable like this.

"I said sit." He said, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you down onto his mouth.

"Oh god." You gasped, unable to control the movement of your hips as his tongue started to lick at you.

It was too much. You couldn't take it. Your hands gripped his hair, and his hands grabbed your ass, pulling you down onto him.

You didn't know how he was breathing, but he didn't stop. He smacked your ass hard and growled, and the vibration was intense.

"Good girl, just like that." He said, and his praise went straight to your core.

You moved against him, not caring how desperate you looked, or how unsexy you must have appeared.

"That's it, fuck my face. Take what you need." He said, watching as your body responded to him.

You didn't even know it was possible to orgasm again that quickly, but his tongue was magic, and you were falling apart above him.

You grabbed the headboard, unable to hold back, and his fingers dug into your hips.

"Fuck, I can't. Elijah." You moaned, and the orgasm was more intense than the first one.

Your body was shaking, and he didn't stop. His tongue moved inside of you, and his nose brushed against your clit, the sensation overwhelming.

"Too much!" You said, trying to move away.

He held you in place, smacking your ass, and making you gasp.

"I decide when it's too much," he said, and there was something in his voice that left you shaking.

"Yes sir," you said, your voice a breathy whisper.

He groaned, his tongue moving faster. You moved your hips, matching his rhythm. And the next orgasm was so intense that your knees almost gave out.

"Such a good girl. Come here." He said, moving you down his torso so that your head was resting against his chest, and you were a sweaty, trembling mess.

His hands were all over your body, feeling every curve, every soft place. His lips moved against yours, and you could taste yourself on him.

You were still trying to catch your breath, and your entire body was shaking. You sat up, suddenly very self-conscious, your thick thighs straddling his waist.

"You are so sexy." He said, sitting up and kissing your neck.

"Really?" You asked, surprised and embarrassed, you never felt that way about yourself.

"You have no idea." He said, his hands moving down your back.

He gripped your ass, and his hips moved up, and you could feel his hard length pressing into you. The way his dark eyes watched you had you squirming. His hands moving to push the straps of your nightgown down.

"I want to see all of you. Can I take this off?" He asked, and he was so sweet and kind, and it only made you fall in love with him even more.

"Okay." You nodded, and his hands pulled the material up over your head, tossing it aside and exposing you completely.

"Perfect." He said, his eyes roaming your body.

"Elijah." You whined, covering your breasts, but he took your hands and held them at your sides.

"Let me look at you. I want to see how gorgeous you are. So beautiful." He said, his words were a complete contradiction to the way you felt.

"I'm not," you said, hating the way his eyes were taking you in.

Elijah shook his head, kissing you softly, his hands moved along your body, caressing every inch of you.

"You are." He whispered, and his words were almost convincing.

You shook your head, trying to pull away, but he wrapped his arms around you and held you close.

"Did you know that in the 16th century, women with curvy bodies were considered more beautiful than thin women? In fact, there is a painting from the 1700s by Antonio Canova called The Three Graces, and the figure on the right is considered to be the most beautiful because of her curves."

"Elijah." You couldn't help but laugh at him.

"My sweet girl, I am not trying to convince you of something that you are not ready to believe. But I will always find you the most beautiful woman in the world." He said, kissing your forehead.

You felt yourself blushing and tears were threatening to fall.

"Don't cry," he said, his hands moving along your back, trying to soothe you.

"I'm not, it's just..." you took a breath, unsure of what to say.

"Come here," he said, gently rolling you onto your back and positioning himself above you. "I can show you."

"What?" You asked, a little confused, but the look in his eyes had you curious.

"I can show you how much I love your body. If you'll let me."

"Yes," you nodded, knowing there was no way you could tell him no.

"Good girl." He said, and you could feel the blush on your cheeks.

He kissed you, his lips moving along your neck, and down to your breasts. He kissed each one and moved lower.

"I love the way your breasts fit in my hands." He said, gently kneading the soft flesh and sucking a nipple into his mouth.

"Elijah." You whimpered, and his hands moved to grab your ass.

"I love the way your curves fill out my hands." He said, moving lower and kissing the swell of your stomach, his fingers dipping into the indentation of your belly button, and making you giggle.

"Elijah, please."

"I love the way your thighs are soft and smooth." He said, gently biting the soft flesh and making you moan.

"I love the way your body responds to mine. The way you moan my name." He said, pushing his boxers off, and taking his hard length into his hand, and stroking himself.

"Elijah." You bit your lip, watching him.

"I love the way my cock fits perfectly between your legs." He said, spreading your legs and moving to rest his length against you.

"I love the way your hips are the perfect shape for my hands." He said, grabbing them and holding them tightly.

"I love the way my body feels against yours." He said, moving so that he was pressing into you.

He kissed you, and his hands moved to grab yours, holding them by the sides of your head.

"And I love the way my name sounds on your lips." He whispered, and his cock pushed into you.

He buried his face in your neck, his hands squeezing yours, and his body pressed into yours. You could feel every muscle tensing, and his heart racing.

"I love you, so much," he said, and the words had never been more real.

You wrapped your arms around him, and the moment was pure and uncomplicated. It was everything you needed, and more.

"Elijah," you sighed his name, and it was all the words you couldn't say.

He smiled, moving his hips slowly, his movements controlled and measured. You could feel every inch of him. You had never felt anything so amazing in your life.

You were overwhelmed, the feelings of pleasure mixing with the emotions coursing through your body. You could feel the tears slipping down your cheeks, and he wiped them away, kissing your face.

He pulled your legs back, pressing your knees to your chest, and his cock hit a spot that had you moaning.

"Good girl." He moaned, his thrusts growing faster, and the pleasure was almost too much.

Your body was shaking, and his movements were getting sloppy. His breathing was labored, and his words were a jumbled mess.

He reached down, his hand finding your clit, and he started rubbing slow circles, the pressure sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

"Cum for me." He commanded, and the orgasm hit you hard, your nails digging into his back, and your legs wrapping around him.

"Eli-" You cried out, your voice high-pitched and needy.

His name was a breathy moan, and he could barely hold on. He needed you to cum, needed to feel you clenching around him.

"That's my girl." He moaned, his hips slamming into yours. You could feel him losing control, his cock pulsing inside of you.

He couldn't hold on, the pleasure was too much, and the way you were squeezing his cock had him tumbling over the edge.

His hand found yours, and he intertwined his fingers with yours, his hips slowing, and his eyes met yours.

You didn't know how long you stayed like that, just enjoying the closeness, and the way your bodies were entwined. You wanted to stay in the moment forever. You could feel his heart beating, and his breath on your skin. He eventually got up and grabbed a warm washcloth, cleaning you both, and then crawled back into bed, pulling you close, and wrapping you in his arms. 

"Are you okay?" He asked, and he was worried that maybe he had hurt you. That he had been too rough, or that he had pushed you too far. But you were smiling, and you were happy, and the way your body had responded to him was everything he had hoped for.

"Yes. I'm perfect." You said, and he could see the way the light was reflecting in your eyes, and the smile on your face. He kissed you, his hand cupping your face, and his tongue tangling with yours.

He made you feel so loved and cared for. He made you feel like you were the most important person in his life. Like nothing else mattered.

And for the first time, you felt worthy of his love. A love you always deserved.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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[mameillieureennemie]

Hellooooooooo

Ok first off I LOVE YOUR WORK THERE SO GOOD AND SO WELL WRITTEN THAT I WANNA EAT THEM TO GAIN POWER

Second I wanna submit a request if that’s ok

An x reader with Vi where the reader is touch repulsed but at the same time touch staved?? How would Vi react to that and how would they as a couple get through it and make reader comfortable with being touched in an affectionate way ?

I have no clue if this makes sense

This is me self reflecting and it shows I’m sorry

If you don’t want to write it I completely get it you don’t have to if you don’t want too.

Thank you

aah thank you so much, lovely!! YOU'RE TOO KIND!!! and this was such an interesting prompt to get, thank you for sending it!! hope you enjoy!

vi notices that you don't like being touched.

she sees how you shy away from her hands, how you can only last in a hug for a second before you need to escape.

it confuses vi in the beginning, makes her wonder if it's her fault somehow. maybe she's too rough, too heavy-handed. maybe you can only tolerate her from a distance; only allowing her to get close for a moment before it's too much.

it hurts; it fucking does.

and it leads to an argument that has both of you screaming at the top of your lungs. she's furious and confused, and you're furious and crying. it doesn’t end until you're storming out of your shared home, disappearing for hours.

you don't come home until it's midnight, and by that point, vi's called everyone that she knows if they've seen you. she's about to go out herself when the front door suddenly opens, revealing a puffy-eyed and sniffling you. you stare at each other for a moment before vi's reaching for you, her own expression crumpling with the weight of her tears.

you allow her to draw you in, only this time you don't pull away. this time, you withstand it until vi's had her fill. until vi's sure that you're alright and safe and home.

one am finds you both on the couch, facing each other as you fidget with your hands. vi watches you carefully, sees how you struggle to form words before you sigh.

"it isn't you," you begin. "it's never been you. it's just something i've struggled with since i was young." you stay quiet for a second. "being touched freaks me out. i don't like being held for too long because it feels like i can't escape. makes me feel vulnerable..." you close your eyes. "that happened once and i just don't want it to happen again."

vi's heart shatters in her chest, millions of pieces raining down on the pit of her stomach. she feels sick; she feels like she wants to throw up. she wants to punch something, scream, hunt down the very bastard who dared laid their hands on you in such a way.

you who is the sweetest, kindest person she's ever known. subjected to be trapped against your will.

vi swallows, feeling tears well up behind her eyes.

"i'm so sorry," she murmurs softly, and you aim a weak smile her way. "i didn't think that—"

you shake your head. "you couldn't have known," you say. "the sad thing is that i love it when you touch me. when you hold my hand or curl your arm around my waist. when you pull me in for a hug...i love all of it." you then pull in a shaky breath. "but my body can't seem to recognise your touch as safe, and it hurt so much because i want to—" your voice chokes up around a sob and vi's flying across the couch, sitting close to comfort but not close enough to startle.

"hey," she soothes. "i love you so much, y'know that? and love goes beyond touching. it's about how we feel towards each other, and that goes above anything else." she takes a gentle hold of your finger, ensuring you can let go if you wish to. "do i love touching you? yes. but do i love you? more than fucking anything. so don't worry about this, okay? whatever you want to do, we'll do it and go at your pace."

at this point, you're freely sobbing now, tears rolling down your cheeks as you take in shuddering breaths. you use your free hand to wipe at your tears, giving a wobbly smile as you say, "how did i get so lucky with you?"

vi huffs a laugh, eyes soft as she squeezes your finger.

"i ask myself that question about you every single day."

[xx-akubara-xx]

Ford: I did the research. From what I've found - the friend you're sponging off-

Bill: Oh 'friend' you say - how Victorian of you.

A drabble of a major flash forward on the Bill!Steve AU, I've been posting.

[Context: Post Weirdmegedon - Bill and Steve reconnect through the Theraprism's visitors program. And eventually, Bill is allowed to stay with Steve on 'house arrest.' It goes surprisingly well. Through a series of unlikely shenanigans, Ford learns about this new 'living' arrangement and makes a point of visiting Steve's Carpets & DVD Rental Shop to ensure Bill isn't plotting anything. And Bill isn't. Even if he wanted to be - he's effectively powerless and isn't a risk to anyone.]

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

Bill: Sixer, listen... I get there's a tooooon of baggage you need to work through before your ticker expires - but let's keep these little talks about us- hm?

Ford: You can't expect me to not bring it up.

Bill: Sure I can.

Ford: Bill.

Bill: That's my name!

Ford: Bill. You told me that you were the last of your kind.

Bill: ...I may have exaggerated slightly.

Ford: ...

Bill: Only slightly. Quit giving me that look - it's not like you were owed that information.

Ford: And now - The two of you are...

Bill: Regretting the breakup already, Fordsy? That's not a good look for you - not that I can blame you.

Ford: You know damn well that's not the direction I'm taking this conversation.

Ford: I did the research. From what I've found - the friend you're sponging off-

Bill: Oh 'friend' you say - how Victorian of you.

Ford: ...It's clearly a sham.

Ford: I know you're just- once again- using someone's better nature against them. And how no one is seeing through your act is beyond-

Bill: It's not an act.

Ford: I don't believe you.

Bill: And you have the right to your feelings~ But I don't need to prove anything to you.

Bill: My relationship with Steve - has nothing to do with you.

Ford: ...

Ford: Really?

Bill: Oh my god, you're about to make it about you, aren't you?

Ford: Isn't?!

Ford: At the bare minimum - you're at least trying to pull the oldest trick in the book!

Ford: And I'm telling you, Bill - it won't work! Honestly - it's just pathetic.

Bill: ...and... what's not working exactly...?

Ford: Making me jealous!

Bill: HA!

Bill: Hooo- Wow. Way to lose one of your nicknames, Sixer. That's NOT what's happening.

Bill: You need to stop watching those trashy movies you humans seem to love so much.

Ford: ...

Ford: You seriously mean to tell me.

Ford: After all of that. The chaos. The death and destruction. You dying. You're suddenly content working in a carpet store.

Bill: Plus movie rentals!

Ford: ...With a guy named Steve.

Bill: Twist of the century, am I right? What can I say? He makes me laugh.

Ford: ...I just don't buy it.

Bill: Fordsy, listen. That ego on you? It's great, one of your best qualities. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.

Bill: But let it go.

[makismei]

(18+ somewhere randomly near the end bc my pussy took over) it is currently 2:57am and while i was writing an upcoming fic, i suddenly thought of nanami, as your underclassman at jujutsu high... not proofread (possibly incoherent) i am sorry i finished at 5am

he's two years younger than you, but he's been enamoured by you since he spoke to you back when he was sixteen on your eighteenth birthday, hosted at gojo's condo.

almost everyone was drunk, courtesy of shoko managing to get her hands on bottles of tequila and vodka. you were barely tispy, finding a completely sober nanami stuck to a wall with his eyebrows pulled together. he doesn't like it here. he wants to go home. but this is what being a teenager is like... right?

through flashing lights and loud music, you told him that cherishing your youth goes beyond what he's seeing before his eyes.

with you being a third year, he rarely saw you at the school. up close, he realizes how beautiful you are and that your perfume suits you so well.

"being a child is just fine," you say, as if you aren't only two years older. "you have your whole life to experience partying."

you end up outside on the balcony, talking all night about anything and everything.

and nanami learns, at sixteen, what uncontrollably clammy hands feel like, stuttering over simple words and the desperation for more of your presence.

since that night, he looks for you on campus when you are between missions. in the beginning, he couldn't find the courage to start conversation, but slowly, it starts to come to him easy.

over the years, he's seen you introduce your older boyfriends to your friends. he's also seen you get your heartbroken because the men that you chose to love were straight up losers.

what is he to do? clearly, you have a type and it's not him. although, he is confident he can treat you far better.

you like dark hair and tattoos, "manly" looking men but they don't even hold the door for you. what the hell is wrong with you? nanami swears, if he was yours, you'd never look back.

nanami is freshly nineteen, listening to you talk to shoko and utahime about how relationships are no longer worth your time. something inside of him feels disgusting because you're pouring your heart out and god, he just thinks you're so beautiful.

when he confesses to you for the first time, he is twenty-one and it's winter. it's been three years since your last relationship and you haven't pursued another since. he knows it's a long shot, but he goes for it anyways.

you smile, hand on his arm, "you deserve better than me, kento. but thank you, truly. i'm flattered you think of me so highly."

nanami raises a brow, "who doesn't?"

you're halfway into your door, smiling sadly. "you'd be surprised."

six months later, you're in cahoots with a horrible man and nanami thinks he's going to go bald early. why do you do this to yourself????

since his confession, he's tried to be mindful so he doesn't make you uncomfortable. but in the most friendship way possible, he tries to show you there are men (meaning: him, he is best fit for you) that are willingly to love you the way you deserve (him).

you, on the other hand, are biting your nails as far as you can, you cannot be catching feelings for nanami kento? you've never seen him in a romantic light, even after he confessed, but recently there has to be something poisonous in the air.

you blocked that douchebag two days ago because talking to him makes you feel disgusting. but you think you might unblock him to save nanami.

nanami cannot be yours, sure he's younger than you and you swore you would never date a younger man because they're so "immature", but nanami is a good... mature person. he is honest and hardworking, growing into his features and in turn, becoming more handsome as the years go by.

you'd be lying if you weren't jealous thinking about the woman that he would call his one day.

you think it's for the better. nanami cannot get caught up with your antics. he's really only seen the good sides and the thought of him seeing your bad sides makes you nauseous. he'd hate you, for sure. then what would you do?

but it doesn't matter, you don't even like him like that! but he's such a good friend you can't fathom the thought of ruining your friendship.

but what if he gets a girlfriend? you're pacing back and forth in your living room, obviously you can't be close with him anymore because that is just so suspicious.

oh my god. you're spiralling.

what do you do? you call nanami.

you tell him everything and more, that you're sorry, that you might be confused but your gut is telling you otherwise. you cry on the phone to him because you're at a loss and you feel so guilty.

nanami does not say a word or make a sound.

until, you hear a knock on your door through the phone and in real life.

"will you let me see you?" he asks, desperate. "i need to see you."

"you had me waiting for so long." he mutters, hips swinging into yours. he has you in a mating press, forehead pressed against yours. "am i making you feel good, beautiful? tell me."

you nod, legs quivering at his sides. "you're so good—i.. i think i'm gonna cum again!"

he shushes you, kissing you so deeply your mind goes blank. he starts thrusting harder and your mind is so mushy you can't even kiss him back. nanami groans, this can't be real. you feel so good that he might get addicted.

he can't let you go now that he's had a taste. he's not letting you go.

you love him. you told him in a panic over the phone.

you love him.

he needs you wholeheartedly and even though he had to wait almost eight years, he would gladly wait another eight years because if it's not you, it's no one. over the years he's loved you one-sidedly, he did a lot of thinking.

a silly high school crush ended up swallowing him whole. he was searching for you in all the blind dates gojo made him go on because gojo was convinced he was cooked and that you would not like him back.

so to see gojo's jaw dropping when you kissed nanami on the lips in the jujutsu tech courtyard, made his heart swell.

he was always yours.

you think that maybe, you've loved nanami for longer than you've thought.

"thanks for waiting for me." you breathe, "i'll make you happy."

nanami smiles, "you will always make me happy."

[scoutswritingcorner]

Hello, i have noticed the lack of love for my girls, Charlie and Vaggie, could you do a Charlie x Reader x Vaggie? OT3?

Love Triangle? No, Love Circle.

Chaggie x GN!Reader

A/N: Before anyone jumps down my esophagus to yell at me about the character’s sexuality. I know Vaggie’s canonically a lesbian and Charlie is bisexual, I know. Don’t send hate or anything cause I will delete that shit, I don’t have time for it. Alright with that out of the way. LET'S JUMP IN!! I also made headcanons- If you want a fic I will definitely write one, I just kinda dumped my brain on this.

TW: A little nsfw at the end I’m sorry (not really I need more)

-🎀 First off let me say, these girls love you in every way imaginable but they show it in different ways. Charlie shows it by hugs and kisses between work to constantly profess her love to you and Vaggie so all of hell could listen. Vaggie shows her love in more simple acts like getting you food or dragging you away from work if she sees you working too hard. 

-👑 Both women are very very protective of you as well, now that’s not say they won’t go overboard if you get caught in the line of fire from the random villain of the day. Both have different ways of trying to get you out of trouble but will immediately come to your defense if they dare try to lay a hand on you. Charlie tries to get the situation to settle down while Vaggie locates every exit there to get you out as fast as she can if it goes south.

-🎀 Don’t get me started on if you surprise them both with a date, day off or just a simple random kiss. Both of them get extremely flustered when this happens, it’s amazing to see it happen. Don’t worry though both ladies will get you back in some fashion just keep an eye out.

Going off of the kiss idea? You gotta know when to strike to really catch one or both off guard. Charlie is by far the easiest to catch off guard, she’s just so busy and her mind is everywhere all at once it gets too much sometimes so you walking up to her and bringing her into a gentle but sweet kiss gets all the stress out. Of course she’s gonna let out a soft squeak and get all blushy but she almost always melts into the kiss immediately. This is just a headcanon of mine but she definitely stims by tapping her hooves on the ground to show how happy or excited she is. (GIVE ME MORE GOAT LIKE CHARLIE CONTENT PLEASE)

Vaggie is somewhat harder to surprise, she’s trained to immediately notice when someone is trying to sneak up on her or when something is out of place. She can’t help it and sometimes she wishes she didn’t really have to be this extra vigilant, but to really surprise her and get her flustered. Don’t be sneaky at all cause once again she will immediately and unapologetically point it out. So your best bet? Just walk up to her and kiss her cheek or on her lips. She won’t see it coming at all, she’ll get all red in the face and flustered beyond belief that her wings might just pop out.

-👑 Now if you work at the hotel with them Charlie will most likely try to help lighten your workload (please tell her your okay, baby stresses enough as is). Vaggie will help in some way or form whilst making sure Charlie isn’t overworking herself. Oh you need more paper? Don’t worry she’s running to get more. Something or someone is getting on your nerves? She’s pulling you away to do something else or she’s scaring the other person away.

-🎀 If you don’t work at the hotel and you keep coming back stressed as ever? Don’t worry your pretty little head, they will pamper you all night and the next morning? Your boss is suddenly giving you a pay raise AND the next four weeks off. 

-👑 If you are an early bird that tends to wake up at or a little after the crack of dawn? Good luck getting out of bed. Charlie is a cuddler and will not let you out so easily, Vaggie in my mind is a light sleeper so she wakes up to give you a gentle kiss before immediately falling back asleep head on Charlie’s chest. Double the points if you cook them breakfast when they wake up, you won’t escape their barrage of kisses.

-🎀 They both will allow you to steal some of their clothes and will steal your clothes in return. It’s a win-win situation. 

Charlie is canonically tall, like 6 foot something now- if you're taller than her she is wearing any hoodies or sweatpants of yours there is no discussion here. It will happen. But if you are shorter than her which is most likely she will happily let you and Vaggie steal her sweatshirts/hoodie/jackets.

Vaggie on the other hand is short like 5’5 (me too girl wtf-) or 5’7 so if you're taller than her? She’s stealing your clothes too but she’s much sneakier than Charlie. But if you're shorter or the same height as her she’ll allow you to steal her clothes as well but please don’t keep them for a week straight. She has a routine of doing all three of your guys' laundry and she doesn’t want to miss cleaning certain clothes you and Charlie steal.

-👑omg let me tell you- these girls love to pamper the shit out of you but if you return it? They will fall more in love with you. Massaging Vaggie’s back after a rough day or maybe helping her preen her wings. Washing Charlie’s hair or maybe rubbing where her horns are at as she lays between your legs and rants about whatever had her upset that day or if we are going down the path where Charlie has more goat like features (pls someone- I want to talk about this) just helping trimming her hooves. Girl needs to be extra pampered with her lovers after the shit she has to put up with day to day.

A little nsfw that’s popping in my mind- MINORS GO AWAY

-🎀OH BOY- Wearing something that fits your curves just right or something that’s a little showy gets both of them flustered and ready to drag you somewhere else. Charlie (bless her soul) tries to respectfully look away but you can catch how her gaze keeps drifting back to you and Vaggie? She’s looking respectfully and she’s not hiding it either.

-👑 Tease them all day long and they will not allow you to walk in the morning or the next few days. So…use caution when teasing The Princess of Hell and an ex-exorcist. They love you but they won’t go easy on you.

-🎀 Overall 20/10 relationship, may have some rough patches but they love you and will 100% talk everything out.

[bitter-me]

Coffee

Young Ranpo Edogawa | M. Reader

----------

"Your smell like coffee!"

----------

Coffee isn't Ranpo's thing.

They're bitter, sure the barista adds some milk and syrup in them but they're still bitter! Which is why he likes hot chocolate better. Unlike the bitter concoction hot chocolate is sweet and nice and warm, especially if you add marshmallows! Some may say that it's too sweet but not for Ranpo. It's just the right amount of sweetness.

And that leads to his confusion as to why his friend likes coffee.

Ranpo once saw [Name] drunk at least 5 cups to finish his school assignments. Like huh? Maybe it's a thing students have to deal with? I mean -- he's technically not a student so maybe that's why it confuses him to his wits end? Regardless the reason behind that habit Ranpo's not one to judge. After all, [Name] was the first ever person that understands him and doesn't shut him down like those adults were.

In fact, [Name] seemed rather fascinated by Ranpo's deductions and how he managed to know everything in seconds.

[Name] was the first person to do that... his first... friend...

So Ranpo's not going to judge him for something as petty as that.

The day Fukuzawa took him in, even though he won't say it out loud he was happy and grateful for it. And [Name] can't be any more happier to found out how Ranpo's life seemed to have a turn for the better. Even if Ranpo doesn't admit it [Name] had always knew about his struggles, his anxiety, his fears, everything. Which why he was beyond happy to found out about it.

Unlike Ranpo who seems to be very gifted in deductions and all.

[Name] is just an average straight A's high school student.

Ranpo has his life planned out before him, a path already build just for him, a path of being a promising detective. "The greatest detective" he'd put it. While [Name] have to find his own path.

Unknowing to all...

This set's him off the rails.

What is he supposed to do? What does he need? What does he want? People say to get a job that you like, that you enjoy. But what about money? Don't you need that to survive? But what if the job ended up being too hard and he'll not like it? What if it's boring? What if it's dull?

But then again what was the point? We all die anyways right? So what was the point in getting a stable and enjoyable job, and a happy life where we all just die in the end?

What if's and questions filled his head, day in day out.

He's not ready.... He needs more time...

But time won't wait for him.. or anyone in that manner...

.

.

Coffee is nice... It keeps your adrenaline high, give you a boost. [Name] couldn't help but enjoy it. That sudden boost of energy makes him more focus on his school work rather than his thoughts. Not to mention that they have quite a nice and pleasant smell the taste is also nice. Because of that [Name] would smell like coffee a scent Ranpo had grown to love, despite saying that coffee isn't his thing.

As time goes on, Ranpo began to be occupied with cases, while [Name] is busy with school. The two barely have time for each other as they used to. But they don't mind as it would just lead to them having a lot more to talk about once they meet again. It was nice... very nice... the warm and pleasant atmosphere...

"Hey Ranpo, since you're practically a detective now. Do you see a lot of bodies."

"Of course I do."

"So seeing one won't scare you? The scent of their blood and the sight of their dead, pale, and possibly disfigured form?"

"Of course not! What kind of detective get's scared of a corpse!"

[Name] chuckles at Ranpo's words, finding the small outburst to be entertaining in some way.

It was a rhetorical question...

It was a rhetorical question, right [Name]..?

Although he doesn't say it, Ranpo felt uneasy at the question. Why is [Name] suddenly asking about that? It felt random. Out of place. Completely out of the blue. It's common to asked that to a new detective, right? But why was it so specific? It probably didn't mean anything, right? But even so... Ranpo can't shake off the feeling that there's a hidden meaning to his friend's words... like a shadow..

As the days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into months and the months turn into years...

[Name]'s graduation day is growing closer and closer.

Ranpo can't be any happier for his friend, a friend he had grown to love... was finally going to graduate high school! He even requested a few days off for this special occasion! Not that he really need to as he could just walk off like usual. But still!!

As happy as he is, Ranpo can't help but have a gut feeling that something is wrong...

He can't explain it but... It's just felt wrong...

Like a dark cloud is hovering above him... dark shadow...

And....

......He's right as always....

The day before the graduation.

Ranpo received a case, which he had refused since he did requested a few days off for his friend's special occasion, but Fukuzawa insisted that he take it. Almost begging.

With no other choice, Ranpo accepts it.

But what he saw in the crime scene was one out of his nightmares.

He didn't even need to open the sheet that covered the body as his had already knew who it is.

The keychain attached to the book bag speaks for itself.

A keychain that belongs to someone dear to him... someone close... someone he had grown to love and adore... someone he was planning to spill his heart out to... someone he was hoping he could call his...

And the results of his deductions didn't help at all. It just made things worse as it revealed to him how much the victim was suffering. A pain that the victim didn't show until their last moments. A pain that Ranpo was too ignorant to notice. A pain where the victim decided that it was too much for them and wanted it to end.

"Why..?"

.

.

The next day... Ranpo graduated from a school he didn't even attend...

He did it in someone's stead.

.

.

Ranpo doesn't like coffee.

No....

He hates it.

[asumofwords]

Watercress

Warnings: She/her pronouns. Smallfolk OC, mentions of death and war, descriptions of injury and blood, slowburn. Tags will be added as the fic goes along.

Pairings: Aemond x She/Her

Summary: Raised in the Riverlands, near the shadow of Harrenhal, her life was one of endless toil and quiet resilience. Every day was the same—scraping together food, tending to the ill, and surviving the harsh realities of a land marked by struggle. But when war came, it brought horrors beyond anything she could have imagined. The skies blazed with fury, the waters of the Gods Eye churned with the echoes of battle, and then—just as suddenly as it began—the world grew eerily quiet. She believed the worst was over. That was, until a fateful discovery in the woods shattered her fragile peace and set her on a path she never could have foreseen.

Notes: Hello there my sweet angels! Thank you so much for your patience in me writing this. It has been such a long time since I have written anything and I am so excited to finally have a burst of energy (and the inspiration) to do it! As I'm writing this I'm like, is this similar to Lighthouse? And you know what, potentially? Lmaoooo. I'm not sure how many chapters this bad boy is going to be, but it will be a miniseries hehe. If you want to be tagged in the taglist, let me know, otherwise I hope you enjoy! <3

Chapter 1: Broken

Still and brittle air. A body of water that had rippled with anger, now calm and without falsely made tides. In the woods beside the ever stretching lake, there was food to be found, herbs to be foraged, and animals to be hunted. What she hadn’t accounted for was the discovery of a man.

As she moved through the nearby woodlands, her eyes diligently scanned the forest floor for edible plants to gather and bring home. She followed a slender stream that wound its way like a vein through the lush greenery. Below her, she spotted some watercress and knelt down to collect it.

The plant was easy to identify, its round, dark green leaves gleaming with a healthy shine, growing in plump clusters that resembled clover. A common enough find, watercress was versatile—its peppery flavour could be enjoyed raw or cooked, adding a subtle kick to various dishes.

With gentle precision, she cut the stems at their base using her blade, then placed the watercress into the small basket she held at her hip. The air filled with a faint peppery scent as her fingers began to feel the familiar tackiness from the leaves. She took care not to harvest too much, arranging the watercress atop the rest of her foraged goods before continuing along the well-worn path toward the lake. Beneath the cloth in her basket lay a worn net, neatly folded, its ends weighted by sinkers like the delicate strands of a spider's web.

A lot of trouble the lake had seen in the few days past. Troubles from highborn nobles who cared naught about the smallfolk who outnumber them. But now that it was still, it was almost eerie from how so much chaos can suddenly halt in its tracks from the actions of just two; how much destruction just even one could make. 

The soft chirping of birds echoed through the gaps between the trees, mingling with the gentle creaking of branches swaying in the breeze. As she neared the shore, the bushes and trees grew sparser, revealing the familiar lake’s edge. Stones of varying sizes scattered the bank, and the water lay calm, a deep shade of blue.

Her cottage was tucked behind her, deeper within the woods from where she had come. It was close enough to the village—a few hours walk—but far enough that few ventured to this secluded corner of the lake. There was an unspoken respect for the boundaries each had claimed, and everyone faithfully followed their familiar, ancestral paths.

Though autumn rapidly approached, and the nipping of the cold chilled her through her skirts, the woman still stripped her feet of her shoes and stockings, pulling up her skirts and apron to knot at the side, leaving her legs bare to the open air. 

With a swift flourish, she pulled the net from the basket and waded into the lake until the water reached her knees, disregarding the cold that bit at her skin. In the frigid depths, her feet slid over and between the rocks beneath, occasionally unsettling her balance and sending small ripples across the surface.

She stood motionless for a time, waiting for the disturbed fish to be lulled back into a false sense of safety. Once the water had settled, she cast her net, its pointed corners spreading like the limbs of an octopus before sinking below the surface. She gripped the long rope attached to the center and began to drag the net back toward her.

At first, the net yielded only a few stray leaves and a couple of twigs. Undeterred, she carefully ensured that the net was untangled before tossing it back into the water. Again, she pulled it in quickly, only to find the same meager catch. She repeated the process until her toes had grown numb and a dull ache crept up her shins from the cold.

Moving to a new spot, she threw the net once more, watching the weights sink swiftly as she pulled it in. This time, there was resistance.

The water rippled and splashed as she hauled the net up, revealing three small fish trapped inside. Their silvery bodies thrashed side to side, desperately trying to escape. With swift, steady steps, she walked back to the shore and dropped the net onto the dirt bank, watching the fish flop and struggle. Taking out her hunting knife, she carefully avoided cutting the rope as she held each fish down, driving the blade into their heads. The frantic thrashing slowed to a dull twitch, and then ceased altogether. She slit their bellies open, removed the guts, and flung them into the water, hoping to attract more fish—or perhaps even larger ones.

She placed them in the basket, but their sizes were nothing extraordinary. She thought that she could dry some for later, store them to eat dried or to soak in a stew with a thick bread. And though the coldness was beginning to get to her, she continued, walking straight back into the water to throw her net back in. 

Casting the net out far and pulling it back in, she managed to get four more fish which she killed, gutted and placed in the basket beside the other. Though not greedy, she knew that the winter months would soon be upon her and it was best to be prepared with an ample store of dried fish and foods, even more-so now after the war had ravaged so much of the Seven Kingdoms. She decided that if she was to have ten, she would be able to eat well that evening as well as have a fair stash to have ready whenever needed. 

Once more she stepped out into the water, though this time daring to wade deeper, the water coming to her mid thigh, the bottoms of her skirts and apron slowly became saturated, the weight pulling her body down. 

Another cast of the net, she watched as the weights sunk into the dark depths, the sun bleached rope disappearing into the lake before she began to pull at the rope, only this time the tension of the rope pulled taught and the net became stuck. 

With a huff, she blew a stray strand of hair from her face and yanked on the net, trying to dislodge it from whatever it had snagged on—a branch or perhaps a rock. But the net wouldn’t budge, and her frustration grew. She pulled harder, and the net finally came free, but the force sent her stumbling backward, her foot slipping into a small dip in the lakebed. Her hips plunged into the cold water.

"Fuck." she hissed as the icy water soaked her gown up to her waist.

In a surge of anger, she wrenched the net toward her, only to find her frustration deepening when she saw a rip in the netting. The frayed rope left a gaping hole, one that would take considerable time to mend—or perhaps force her to start anew.

“Fucking cunt.” She flung the net back to shore, the weights making a wet thud on the soil, as she looked to where the her net had got caught. 

With her dress already soaked, she made no quarrels with walking deeper, the icy lake now coming up to her chest as she tried to peer down into the dark depths to see what her net had gotten snagged on. Why she looked, she did not know. Perhaps to curse out whatever rock or object had ruined her perfectly fine net. At the very least she had caught enough fish to last her until she could mend the torn net, or start anew. Gods forbid she had to walk to a nearby town to buy one.

With careful feet she waded in the water, reaching her toes out first in search of the sunken object. Hands balancing her atop the waters surface, she reached further forward in search. Her toes touched small rocks, their broken edges skating against the sides or sole of her foot-- but still it was not what had ruined her net. There were many rocks in the lake, she knew this, the fishermen who had boats on the lake and drew trade knew this, but she frequented this spot enough to know that there was something new there that shouldn’t be.

Rough and smooth all at once she felt it, something before her nestled between boulders. As her toe searched the foreign object, a sharp sting radiated up from them. She hissed, pulling her foot backwards, wondering if there was something new within the lake that could swallow her whole. Her curiosity took over. Tentatively, she pushed her foot out again, finding the smooth yet bumpy object that seemed to be colder than the water itself. The more she touched it, the more she realised that it was not what she had thought at all. In fact, she was surprised to come to the conclusion that it was manmade. 

With her dress already soaked, she dipped her arm into the water, shoulder and breast dipping beneath the surface halting her breath as her fingers sought out what her toes had found. Cool metal met her hand, her digits wrapping around a cylinder shape, the feeling of spirals beneath. With all her might she pulled it, the weight of what she held making her strain, but as she lifted it she was able to see the glinting of steel beneath the water as it got closer to the surface. 

The sword hilt was black and gold, a sort of spiral shape at the top, its cross guards gold and in the shape of a head, a bird perhaps? Or a dragon? It was long and heavy, and just when she thought the rest of it would come to the surface, she was wrong. It was far too large and too heavy for her to pull it up out of the water. Stepping back carefully with the new found object in hand, she dragged it behind her, the point dragging over rocks and sediment alike until finally she was back on the shore. 

The make of the sword told her that it was worth its weight in gold, and even had gold upon it to prove her observations further. It would have belonged to a nobleman, or perhaps even a knight, though the closer the looked at it, the more features she could see that resembled symbolism of House Targaryen. 

So it was one of theirs, then. 

She let the sword drop to the sand, hands on her hips as she looked at both her basket full of food and fish, the broken net, and finally to the sword. The sword would be worth much, but she would have to travel far to sell it to anyone with the coin to buy it. But then comes the trouble of travelling with such a large, and if she was correct in what she thought it was, recognisable item. It would risk raiders, or worse, some overzealous loyalist who deigned her a thief and cut off her hands. 

Eyes drifting behind her towards the lake, she wondered what had happened those days past. 

She remembered the sound, the ear piercing shrieks from the sky, heat of fire, the smell of smoke and crashing of water. But she had run as fast as she would once she saw the great green beast fly overhead.

Nothing good ever came to the Riverlands when She was near.

Eventually though, having nowhere else to go, the woman had returned in the night, hidden amongst the forest and trees, listening for the sounds of roaring and flame which had ceased quickly as it echoed around the lake. And when she arrived back to the lake, it was quiet once more.

The dance of the two dragons above Gods Eye was no more, and she could finally go back to living her life; uninterrupted. 

She scanned the shoreline surrounding, eyes narrowing in the distance to see if she saw any signs of the dragons. Perhaps they had crawled out from the lake on the other side and had made their way towards her end? But the lake was so large and so deep, that none could even see to the other side.

Turning to pick up her basket and the sword again she was halted by the flickering of something shiny in the distance, the setting sun reflecting off of metal amongst tree root and rock. She wondered briefly if it was going to be another sword, or perhaps a helm. That would be easier to sell at the nearby town; a smith would certainly pay handsomely to melt down the steel and turn it into whatever wares he desired. She kicked soil over the blade and placed the basket full of greens and fish atop the hilt, covering the gold and reflective surface entirely before making her way towards the flickering light. 

Her dress pulled down on her shoulders heavily, water dripping from the hem with each step as a chill rose upon her flesh. But something compelled her further, despite all other instincts within, she pushed on, making her way towards the glinting metal which snaked along the rocky shore. The closer she got, the more she recognised that it was chains, draped and shining in the sun, some covered in dirt the rest leading towards the water. 

She thought of the many things she could do with the chains, what their worth could be, and whether or not it was worth going further to collect them, and yet still she persisted, feet muddy and wet, a slight sting from where the blade of the sword had cut at her toes.

She bent down to gaze upon them, strong, good quality steel it seemed. They had not tarnished, nor were their many marks upon them. The chain links were half the length of her arm and triple the width, its weight likely more than her own. They were far too large for her to carry alone.

A breeze rolled through the forest and across the water, sending goosebumps to rise over her body with a shiver. It was getting dark, she was drenched, and the best option was to leave the larger find behind and come back for it on the morrow, perhaps with a plan on how she would move the chain from water, to shore, to forest, to door. 

She turned to face the forest and was greeted with evidence of the destruction dragons could inflict. Trees older than her grandmother had ever been, their trunks as wide as horses, split down the centre and broken from the impact of a large body. Further within she could see the singed tree tops, where ash that had settled down atop the canopy. The eeriness of a broken forest and a broken realm, far too close to home.

And yet she was drawn to it, this destruction. It was unlike anything she had witnessed before; she was pulled forward. Feet crunching on the pine floor, the crunch of her steps deafening in comparison to how quiet it was amongst the carnage. The animals had not yet returned, the ones that had once been there dead, silent. 

Even with the trees that had somehow managed to survive, to stand tall despite the terror that had reigned above them, their trunks and leaves were covered in the evidence of what was. Ash, streaked each surface, and with a curious hand she place it atop the bark of a tree, brushing her finger along the ridges of the wood, watching as they turned grey. A quick rub of forefinger and pointer together made the ash smear, and as she stood by that tree, taking in the scene before her, her eyes focused upon a darkness behind the tree that should not have been there. 

Something that was not born of ash nor bark nor fur. 

Something human. 

Uncertainly she took a step around the tree to see the beginning of a boot, a leathered boot at that. And attached to it a leg, and then hips, and finally;

A man. 

Dressed head to toe in dark leather, now grey with ash, the man lay on his side. Her heart raced in her chest, though she had seen the dead before, this time was different. This time it was not a sick merchant, nor a child who had gotten the winter fever. It was not her father dying at the hands of a drunken fight, blood trickling from his mouth. 

This was one of them. 

Long silver hair lay knotted across the mans face, ash streaking the pearlescent tresses grey. His skin much the same, though the parlour was similar to a corpse; so pale, so almost blue that she could have mistaken him for one of Harrenhal’s ghosts.

Was he the man who had slaughtered the Strong family at Harrenhal?

Or was he the one who commanded the brutal rape and murders of those who opposed the Blackwoods? 

Did it matter? She thought to herself, They were all the same.

The leg she had discovered was bent at an unnatural angle, the shin snapped in two, broken in a way that if he had lived he would have been crippled for the rest of his days. The rest of his body did not fair well either, tears in his leather tunic and breeches given way to an attack, or a fall, or Gods knew what else. The famed silver hair which obscured his face from view was red at his skull, slowly seeping into a rust colour where blood had dried from a wound. 

Bare toes stood beside the pale mans head as she dipped to her knees, her wet dress sticking to the ash and pine coated floor. She observed him for a time, admiring the stitchwork of the tunic he wore, noting that it would likely be-- despite its conditions-- the nicest thing she could own. But she was no grave robber, and she had no desire to be haunted by his spirit after desecrating his corpse. 

Her curiosity however won out, and with an unsteady hand, unsure whether it be from the cold or the man, she reached forth to brush the blood crusted hair away from his face.

Despite its appearance, ash, blood and leaves tangled in the locks, his hair was as soft as silk as she brushed it with her hands. The skin of his ear was cold to the touch. She swept the tangled heap away from his brow and cheek, revealing a bruised and cut cheek, though that was not what had made her breath skip in her chest. 

The space where his eye should have been was empty, though not from this battle, but from one many years ago she supposed, the skin of the brow and cheek scarred deeply down his face. She could see to the back of where his eye would have once sat, the flesh darkened and scarred.

Aemond One-Eye.

Following the scar on his cheek, she looked to his lips, where dried blood had crusted at its opening and down his other cheek to the forest floor. His nose, aquiline and strong had bled too, as did his ears from what she would see, and through the centre of his face a cut sliced through the bridge where bruising and bone were visible. 

It was weird, to sit so close to a corpse of royalty, and she were sure that if he were alive he would have stuck her for daring to even touch him. For daring to even touch his pure blood, and his pure hair, and his purer skin. And this thought alone made her touch him all the more, tracing curious fingers across his cheek, his nose, the scar running through his cheek, and down to his neck, where his tunic had been torn and the pale expanse of his neck was visible. 

Her finger trailed down past his jaw, underneath it, wondering what in the world separated the two of them. They died just like everyone else. Whether that be in the birthing bed, in cups of ale, or fighting one another. What made the Targaryens so far removed from her? Besides their silver hair, their lilac eyes and their dragons, they were merely men, and all men died.

The King was proof of this.

A faint fluttering beneath her fingers made her lift her hand in shock, her digits hovering over the mans face as she looked at him in disbelief. 

He couldn’t…

She leant down, dipping her ear beside his lip as she rested a hand against his ribs. 

And there it was, a rattling breath so weak, so quiet, that had his lips not been pressed against her ear she would not have heard it. 

He was alive.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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[holymolyfizzie]

i don't wanna derail @kityana's post about stolas's pill popping, so i'm making a separate one. but something kityana said finally made me think about something: "i'm still not sure if those pills are actually helping him or if they were just given to him to numb him to how shitty his life is"

I've wondered something related to this a lot myself. but Stolas takes his antidepressants with alcohol (and in the aftermath of alcohol, like at the end of The Circus), which is a depressant. taking antidepressants + alcohol at best just cancels out your antidepressants so they don't actually do anything. but both at once, at worst, makes your depression symptoms a lot worse. taking them together is the sort of stuff that college girls get yelled at for, but i guess no one told stolas. i wouldn't be surprised if he's been popping them like candy and upping his dosage because he was told they would help him…and then they don't because of the rampant alcoholism. which is to say that we don't know if the meds even worked for him at all (i'd argue strongly they didn't, considering his alcoholism only ever got worse and he kept taking more and more pills, like they never worked enough) or if they were a placebo while he was taking them

and this might be a bit too nuanced for such a show, but as someone who has suddenly gotten off antidepressants that didn't work at all, the withdrawal symptoms don't always affect mood that much (they did nothing for it to begin with) and they sure as hell don't last a full month after getting off. in fact, going cold turkey off of meds that do work for you shouldn't have withdrawal symptoms that last a full month (if you do, it's a Talk to Your Doctor moment). i just really wonder if Stolas noticed the lack of antidepressants after the first few days beyond the old habit of taking them, and if we really can contribute much of his mental breakdown to getting off antidepressants

but you know what he was taking religiously, that did affect him for sure, and that we haven't seen him touch in a month now? the alcohol. he was drinking during Mastermind, but he clearly hasn't touched it since the trial. Blitz doesn't seem to have alcohol around, and Stolas wouldn't ask for the extra expense -- he's being forced to quit. he passes up Loona's beelzejuice at the Sinsmas party, noticeably. the beelzejuice is brought in, and Stolas immediately goes outside for a smoke instead. he's not drinking anymore. and quitting alcohol cold turkey is an insane process, esp at his level of hard liquor. we're talking about disastrous health consequences and a whole host of withdrawal symptoms -- anxiety, depression, irritability, fatigue, loss of appetite, brain fog, hallucinations, and much worse stuff (in humans, seizures). it's impossible to underestimate the severe damage alcoholism does to your brain and body longterm. and a lot of those withdrawal symptoms stay weeks after stopping cold turkey

like, i don't want to detract from him going off of antidepressants; he needs and obviously wants working antidepressants, he's desperate for them. but i'm gonna be so for real, i've had my experiences going off ineffective antidepressants, and i've watched family members try to quit alcohol. an alcoholic quitting is a brutal, drawn out process that shakes me to my core. there are reasons a person still says "i am an alcoholic" even a decade after quitting. that shit's insidious in a way that antidepressants aren't, and it was affecting stolas noticeably more, surely enough to render his meds useless. if you want him back on antidepressants, then you need a sober Stolas first, and this is what he's FINALLY working on

so i think more emphasis needs to be placed on Stolas's recovery from alcoholism when discussing his mental breakdown, irritability, etc. the fact that he's doing this without rehab or other interventions is miraculous, nearly impossible. i don't want his impressive recovery (so far) from alcoholism to end up getting buried under the antidepressant talk ngl, especially when his getting off of alcohol now means that his antidepressants may actually work in the future and help him. this is something to be so so proud of!!

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY TWO

in which eddie is honest. for real, this time.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, discussion of/allusions to smut from last chapter, angst, not edited (what's new though), upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 11.1k+

→ a/n: welp. this... yeah, this is a lot. i truly hope it's worth it. in the waiting, anticipation, and length. if it isn't... my bad. i'm sorry in advance. also, please note, pov change only applies to the memory.

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

22:00 ──────────────ㅇ─ 24:00

His regret turns to pain as you whisper, “What did you just say?”

—

HOUR TWENTY TWO – 1:00 PM

You can’t speak. It’s as if you’re frozen; every muscle, including your tongue, has gone rigid. Every racing thought escapes just beyond your reach. Every single one of the last twenty two hours pound behind your rib cage, and you think you might just faint. Right here, right now. The blood rushes your ears as your body goes ice cold, and even the railing cutting into your palm seems to drift away from you. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He doesn’t even try to deny it. He knows you heard what he said – he can’t take it back. It’s written plainly on his face that if he could, he would swallow back down those disastrous words. He’d grab that destruction four letter word right out of the air, no doubt, and set it aflame. He’d blow away the ash if he could guarantee you would have never heard it.

But he can’t. You heard him. 

I’ve loved you for so long. 

Everything is heavy. The air, your limbs, your godforsaken tongue. 

“Say something,” he suddenly begs. You’ve never seen Eddie look so desperate, eyes wet and voice cracking, “Anything.” 

You want to answer him. Your bones ache with the need – the need to reply, the need to question, the need to do anything but stare at him with what he must surely mistake for horror.

Were you horrified? Were you?

You don’t know. 

It’s why you can’t answer him. 

“I-” he starts up again, breaking down even further right before your eyes. You want to reach out, to coddle him, to tell him it’s fine. But it’s not fine. 

You don’t even get the chance to ruminate on just how not fine it is, or that heat beginning to come to a boil in the pit of your stomach, because the sound of one of the neighbors exiting out onto their own balcony interrupts the infinitely delicate moment. 

“Hey there, Eds-” You don’t know what actually interrupts the gruff man that steps out, who exudes familiarity with Eddie until he takes in the scene before him. 

Eddie, completely fucking naked. You, with only a shirt on. If it weren’t for the moment at hand and the trembling emotions coming to fruition inside of you, you’d probably find it comical. You’d probably find a way to join in the old man’s single guffaw before the two of you meet each other’s gaze and become aware of what exactly is happening.

But it’s not funny. You’re both fucking naked — physically and emotionally — and it’s not funny.

You’re mortified as both of you are scrambling across the balcony, a whirlwind of discarded clothes fisted and nearly tripping over each other to shove back into Eddie’s living room. That embarrassment now trickles down into the start of a boil, everything in you becoming red-hot from how flustered you’ve become and the way you can’t have a second to just process it all. 

When you turn to face Eddie once the sliding door has slammed shut, his cheeks are the brightest pink imaginable. 

“What the fuck,” you whisper out, trying to steady your breathing, trying to take it all in. 

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your adrenaline is almost making you sick. 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he catches your whisper amongst your stoic silence and seems to forget the moment that his neighbor had just shattered, voice clear as day as he pulls his curtains shut. You swear you catch the old man still staring, still laughing, and you’re just grateful that you’re not the one completely nude, “I had no idea Mr. Jenkins would come outside, usually none of those fuckers see the light of day before sundow-”

“Your neighbor just saw us naked,” you almost scream. You want to shout, want to throw everything in sight. You crave to flip that coffee table in the center of the room and throw a fit that outdoes even the most petulant of toddlers.

“I know, I-“

“If you say sorry again, I’m walking back out there,” you take a deep breath, but it does nothing to calm you’re shaking body, “And I’m throwing myself off the fucking balcony.”

Maybe you’ll be able to laugh about it in five years. A year, even. Hell, a month or as soon as next week. But you can’t right now; all you want to do is cry.

Some random man just saw you naked. Eddie apparently fucking loves you. 

It might be the sleep deprivation and it might be the fact that it feels like the Universe is laughing in your face at every turn right now. Whatever higher power exists seems to be waiting around every corner for the chance to kick you repeatedly as you stumble to this finish line. And you can’t fucking take it.

So you give in. You give in to that childish need to stomp your feet and scream until you’re blue in your lips.

“I just- Fuck!” Eddie jumps a bit at your exclamation, he’s still naked, “I can’t catch a break! I can’t catch a fucking break. First, I’m showing up here, and I’m stuck with you for twenty four hours. I’m stuck with the man I hate for a whole fucking day,” you’re full on pacing, not caring how ridiculous this scene would appear to anyone. Your hands wave erratically in the space around you, and all Eddie can do is stare, tense with wide eyes, “And I cry in front of you, have full breakdowns in front of you. I listen to you remind me over and over how much you truly despise only to now suddenly find out that, hey! I actually love you! And do I get to process that? No. Because now, some fucking old man that lives next door to you has seen my goddamn vag-“ 

Eddie’s entire demeanor collapses. “Oh, so now I’m back to being the man you hate?” 

You pause your ranting, realizing what you’ve said. 

You’re just angry. You should have thought before you spoke, before you opened your mouth and began to spew your venom, because you can see the way the words have struck Eddie. Not your intention.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“But you said that,” he flatly argues back. 

Your stomach twists.

“I’m just-“ your tongue is back to being heavy as the two of you face one another. Feet apart, worlds apart. “I’m fucking embarrassed, Eddie.” 

“You think I’m not?” he scowls, and you try to tell your racing heart it’s a good sign. But it’s not. You almost preferred his walls dividing the two of you, “Shit fucking happens. We got caught — we fucking dirty talked about getting caught! Big fucking deal! Karmic justice or whatever bullshit people spew. It doesn’t mean I’m going to- It doesn’t change-“ he’s stuttering now, matching that exasperation that had you pacing just moments before. He huffs, a hand reaching up and dragging his bangs upward, harsh at the root as he finally drops his hands in his own defeat, palms slapping his sides, “Everything changes. You said that, not me. You said everything changes, and all it takes is a little bit of fucking embarrassment to go back on your word?” 

He’s still fucking naked. You still can’t think.

“I’m not having this conversation with you naked,” you whisper, almost in disbelief as you shake your head, “I’m- Put your fucking clothes on. Please.” 

“Put my clothes on?” he scoffs, taking a step closer to you, “Put my clothes on? Do you mean the same clothes you just insisted I take off not even ten minutes ago?” 

“We were having sex!” you yell. You’re sure if the old man is no longer on his balcony, he can hear you through the walls. Hell, even if he is still outside, it’s likely he hears the screaming match beginning, “Why- Why are you turning this on me right now? You just said you fucking love me! The least of our issues right now is me telling you to get fucking dressed!” 

“Why are you lashing out at me right now?” Eddie’s voice is louder than yours, something more broken inside of it, “I-“

“Clothes,” you grit out, avoiding his eyes as you start to yank your panties on violently, “Now.” 

You can still feel him. His essence is dripping between your thighs. And you don’t find any sense of enjoyment in it, you don’t savor that quick-fading warmth nor the reminder of the pleasure he’d just brought you. It just reminds you of the words he had said all while not even looking you in the eyes. He couldn’t even face you as he had admitted it. 

One thing at a time, you try to remind yourself. One fucking thing at a time. 

Eddie’s own redressing is another sight that maybe, hopefully, one day you’ll look back on and laugh at. But right now, it can’t spark any amusement in you. Not as all your emotions slam back into you at full force.

You’re embarrassed. You’re confused. You’re angry.

“Happy?” he spits out once his boxers are on, shirt tugged back on so hard over his head that his curls frizz up.

“No,” your eyes are burning, and you feel it again. All those desperate emotions. Like a wild animal inside of you has begun to claw at your insides, making you bleed from the inside out. 

Eddie loves you — and he has, for a long time, apparently.  

Eddie’s neighbor has seen you naked. Saw your full bottom half exposed.

You’ve managed to hurt Eddie’s feelings, again.

Eddie fucking loves you and never thought to mention it. He has for a long time.

All your tempered strings snap, that wild and stricken thing inside of you finally cutting loose.

You don’t know what you’re angry at. You’re angry at him, and yet you’re not. You’re angry at the situation, and yet you’re not. You are bitter from words withheld and you are sour from every moment that paves the road that brought you two to this very moment.

You’re just angry.

“What did you mean?” the question comes out sharply enough to make his own defiant anger fade ever so slightly as he physically flinches, “I- I need to know what the Hell you meant, Eddie.” 

Anger is metallic on your tongue. It seeps from your skin, floods the air, only further dampens everything already so heavy. 

The longer he doesn’t answer you, the more smothering the entirety of the apartment becomes.

“Just tell me. Make it make sense, because right now?” you pause for a deep and shaky breath. Your eyesight is blurry now. Eyes red rimmed with tears that will surely sear your cheeks if they find the nerve to be shed, “Right now, I don’t get it. Over and over and over again, you have reminded me that you hate me. Prior to tonight, it was safe to assume that scorning my existence was one of your favorite pastimes. And I know, I get it — everything has changed. But- But-“ 

How can anything change if you weren’t honest to begin with? 

Did anything change for him? While you were discovering and tending to sore feelings that had been festering for a while but had never seen the light of day, was he only nursing an old wound? 

“But what?” his voice drops low. His entire demeanor has dropped, cowering down before you. His head dips down, his shoulders droop with prepared rejection, you watch the man before you, the man you had just let defile you and the man you had just worshiped on your goddamn knees, turn to dust.

A shaky gasp. Wobbly knees. The blood rushes through your ears again, flushing out any noise except the two of you breathing out of sync. His deep breaths, accepting and welcoming a rejection he was so sure he was receiving. Your shallow breaths, panting and rapid and trying to just get everything to slow the fuck down.

You were right. Once the tears shed, they burn a trail of Hellish fury right down the center of each cheek. “When I say everything has changed between us, what does that mean to you?” 

He’s undressing an old wound, an open slash that seems to be unable to form a scab. You’re pressing on bruises, aching parts of you that had purpled from his neglect long ago. It’s clear as day now — the difference.

You no longer care about the embarrassment of being caught.

“What do you want it to mean?” 

“Don’t do that,” the tears fall faster now. You can’t even begin to dig into this chasm of emotions. Are you angry at him? Are you disappointed by the circumstances? Do you love him? “I want an answer — I need your answer. You promised me your honesty, so give me it. Now.” 

His eyes meet yours, and your entire world seems to fold into itself, “It… doesn’t mean much. It doesn’t change much.” 

Everything has only changed for you. 

“So it means nothing, then? You have me at your disposal, you have me on my fucking knees for you, you tell me you fucking love me, and it all means nothing?” 

You’re twisting his words and you know it. But you can’t help it, can’t stop it. 

“I never said that!” his voice is no longer low and quiet. Sudden worry creases beside his eyes as his mouth goes slack in shock, “I never said it meant nothing.” 

“But it doesn’t mean much, right?” You hate your wet cheeks. You hate the way everything in you is somehow slow-breaking, yet suddenly shattering. An unnerving juxtaposition that is drowning you and sending you reeling over and over again, “It doesn’t change much, right? Because when I said that, Eddie, I meant it – everything fucking changed for me. It wasn’t- It’s not- This isn’t just some throwaway thing to me. Not even a day ago, I thought I had to hate you with everything I had. I thought I had to hate you.”

And I don’t. Not even a little bit. Even right now, when I should. 

“Is that what you think I’m saying?” his voice is low where your voice has risen, his face calm where yours has gone stormy. 

Where you’re on fire, he’s treading still waters. The opposite dilemma that has always existed, and the one you had the nerve to see as poetic. But water meeting flames is never poetic. It never ends well. You should have seen that coming from a mile away.

“What am I supposed to think?” you also quiet your tone to match his. You wonder if the neighbors really had heard a thing. You almost hope they had, that this argument is affecting someone else’s day the way it’s affecting you, “You’re standing here, and you’re telling me it doesn’t mean much, and-“

“It doesn’t change much,” he corrects, and you’re now the one flinching at the crack in his voice. “Not for me. Not when I-“

Not when I’ve loved you for so long.

He can’t even finish his own sentence.

“So what does it change?” you throw your hands out in exasperation, “If it doesn’t change much, what has it changed?” 

There it is again — his silence, your anger. 

“Is it not enough to just know it changes something?” 

If you were stupid, you’d take his tone as pleading. You’d mistake it for begging. But you can’t. For all your fury, you can’t believe that he’s actually stooped so low as to beg for you, especially after what he’s just said. Time and time again, you had repeatedly cracked yourself wide open for him, and he’d managed to rip your heart right out of your chest with such a simply yet damning statement. The most casually cruel bit of honesty he had offered you yet tonight: that nothing changes.

“We’re back to square one,” you choke out in realization, “I- Fuck. This entire time, you weren’t honest with me.” 

He opens his mouth quickly, and for a second you believe he’ll offer an explanation that can soothe over the ache. He’ll come up with an excuse that you can buy, he’ll explain himself in a way that proves you wrong, and the sweet oblivious bliss can return. 

“No,” he says instead after careful consideration, “I wasn’t honest with you.” 

Your tears are running rampant as you only nod slowly, pressing your lips together in defeat, “Awesome. Great,” you reach up, sniffling as you swipe at your nose, still silently quiet but no longer awarding him with any display of your rage, of your hurt, of anything but your acceptance, “No, really, that’s- Cool. Nothing changes. I get it.” 

I’ve loved you for so long. 

It didn’t make sense, but you don’t have it in you to dissect it any further. He had loved you the entire time, and still set out to make you bleed. His grand admission doesn’t change a single fucking thing. 

You don’t say another word as you grab your pair of jeans up into your fist, being sure to move slowly and not in the haste every nerve in your body calls for. You need to leave – you need out of this apartment, and you need to never see Eddie Munson again. It wouldn’t be a far leap from what your friends already deal with. If the friendships take blows of damage from it, so be it-

“Where are you going?” he asks, standing stiller than a statue as he watches you.

You grab your bag, “I’m leaving. The deal’s off. Or- I don’t know. Tell them the bet’s off-”

“The bet is not off-”

“It is,” you turn to him, absolutely frozen in your resolution, “It really, really is. You can even fucking lie to them if you want, I don’t care. Figure out a way to get the money but I don’t want it. I’m done.” 

“So that’s it?” he scoffs in disbelief. When you pull on your jeans, when you sling your bag back over your shoulder and begin to walk to the counter where your phone was left, he realizes that it’s really happening. He realizes you’re truly done, “No questions? I just told you I wasn’t fucking honest, and you’re just going to walk away, not even demand I tell the tru-”

“I’m tired of pulling the truth from you,” you finally move with some of the aggression you felt, hand smacking the counter beside your phone, “If you care so much, if you love me, I shouldn’t have to beg until my knees bleed for you to actually be honest with me,” you take your phone, shoving it into your back pocket before you look at him, “I can’t keep doing this. You were always right. They’re your friends. Congratulations, you got what you always said you wanted. You won’t have to deal with me anymore – consider this a farewell from your life. I’ll make sure no one invites you to my fucking funeral.” 

You assume he grabs you due to your cruel reference to his insult from the very beginning of the night, that he’s going to fight you for that bit of your oddly calm speech. But when his hands wrap around your bicep, and you face him with those silent tears still racing, what comes out of his mouth stuns you. 

“I’ll be honest,” he is pleading, he is begging, “Stay, and I’ll tell you everything. I don’t even fucking care about the bet — we can call off, everyone else can go to Hell. I don’t care about the money, I don’t care about the bet, I just-” he pauses, and you watch the desperation building taller and taller within him, “Stay and let me explain.”

You should tell him no. You should tell him to go to Hell. If you stay and hear him out, it will only end in pain for you. You should leave.

Instead, your bag begins to slip off your shoulder. 

“You have ten minutes,” you whisper as his hand finally releases its grip, “Explain.”

—

SIX MONTHS EARLIER - EDDIE’S POV

If he were smart, Eddie would’ve kept his word.

He’d told them he wasn’t showing up. He’d told them he had work (not a complete lie), and that he wouldn’t make it tonight. He just hadn’t felt like drinking anymore — not since two weeks prior, when he’d gotten black out drunk while hanging out with Nancy, throwing his own personal pity party. 

Pathetic.

It wasn’t just that killer headache that had been haunting Eddie since that night. It was much more than that; it was solid and palpable regret. He’d thrown back too many beers, mixed it with some sort of wine coolers that Nancy offered him once he started to feel the buzz. All it took was just a bit too much alcohol in his system, and suddenly, his rant that Nancy had agreed to indulge him in became so much more. One moment, he was just complaining about you. And the next, he was rambling, letting less harsh words slip between the complaints, more compliments than things he wanted you to change. One wine cooler in, and he was no longer complaining about the way everyone had been fawning over you after a full six months of friendship, but instead the way that your sad eyes and pouting lips following him around a room was cosmically unfair. 

He didn’t remember much of the rest of the night, and he was glad when Nancy had given him a pitiful look over the cups of coffee she offered. 

He’d told her. He knew he’d admitted his stupid, annoying, despicable crush on you to her. Probably whined about the way you and Harrington had clearly had something going on. Definitely spoke too much about how badly he wanted to experience your gentle hand in his calloused one, or to feel your arms wrap around his neck in greeting rather than daggers from your glare every time he entered a room. Hell, he’s sure there was a good thirty minute period amongst the fuzzy memories where he’d sat on the edge of tears as he continued to mumble about how he wasn’t good enough for you.

Nancy Wheeler, his best friend, finally knew. Six fucking months of keeping it under wraps, and Eddie Munson had finally slipped up.

And she clearly hasn’t forgotten as Eddie had prayed she would every single night as she’s the one to answer his knocks on Steve’s door, grinning with the hidden knowledge.

She’d texted him with one last plea for him to show up. Insisted everyone was here. Went so far as to make him a list, and made sure to add your name at the end. It had been phrased like an afterthought on the screen, but he knew her too well. He knew Nancy purposefully mentioned you.

“Munson! Finally! It took you long enough,” she squeals, clearly already halfway to drunk before she quiets down, “And you said you weren’t coming. Wonder what, or who, changed your mind.” 

“Fuck off.” 

It had been a bad day. Work, classes, a phone call with Wayne that had just left Eddie disheartened and terribly homesick. It was selfish, but the thought of seeing you in passing tonight, even if you did seem to dislike him just as he had intended, made it all a bit more bearable. 

Coming home. Seeing you felt like coming home, even if you’d slammed the front door on his face.

He follows Nancy down the hall, a pit growing in the bottom of his stomach, heavy as ever. He shouldn’t have even wanted to see you. The last time he had seen you, you’d been out for blood, blatantly ruining a date he’d managed to bag with Chrissy Cunningham. Chrissy, who never gave him the time of day in high school. Chrissy, who was clearly set on using him as a rebound during yet another break from Jason. Chrissy, who’s only flaw wasn't just the fact that she wasn’t you.

“Eddie, my man!” Argyle greets Eddie the moment he enters the living room. He’s lounging on the couch, Jonathan to his right and a space where Nancy clearly had occupied now empty. 

Eddie nods, still feeling the week weighing him down. No sight of you yet, “Hey, man.” 

He just wanted to see you. One glimpse, preferably before you’ve caught sight of him, and he’d be fine. He’d learned to live with those fleeting moments the last six months, he could keep it up for just a bit longer.

He’d get over you eventually. Even if it killed him.

He had to give his plan time to work. So far, he’d done well, easily offering you a cold shoulder and nothing more after that first night. It wasn’t easy — he doesn’t think anyone would find the task of being cool towards someone as radiant as you easy — but he’d done it. Brick by brick, his wall of invincibility was standing tall and strong between you two. It was safer this way, he had to remind himself. It was better to run off of brief glances of your smiles and laughter never directed at him than to risk anything more. He’d only disappoint you, or you’d magically disappoint him, and it would end in bloodshed. Someone like you, someone so good and kind and easy to gravitate towards, would leave Eddie broken beyond damage. 

You didn’t go for guys like Eddie. Steve had made that clear since day one.

Eddie takes the loveseat as Nancy returns to Jonathan’s side. He tries to make it subtle, the way he twists his head to glance around the room as he removes his jacket, eyes roaming until he finds you. In the kitchen, with Steve and Robin, tense back telling him you’d already noticed his arrival.

So much for seeing you smile.

He tries to keep up with the conversation going on. Argyle and Jonathan are having some sort of debate about aliens, nothing short of heated and passionate, and he’d normally be jumping in without hesitation. But his eyes can’t stop flickering to the kitchen and each time, he can see you downing even more alcohol. He knows you don’t like him, but did you hate him that much?

“You’re awfully quiet,” Nancy leans over to whisper as Jonathan grows in volume about another branch of a conspiracy theory.

“Just tired,” he flatly replies. He’s suddenly itching to get his hands onto some alcohol of his own. Fuck the lessons he should’ve learned a few weeks ago. Fuck his regret in confiding in Nancy.

“Was work rough?”

He hums pathetically in response, eyes glued to the kitchen still. To you.

Nancy’s eyes finally follow his focus, “Have you… I don’t know, ever tried just talking to her?”

He snaps from his daze at that, head turning quickly to Nancy, “I talk to her all the time.” 

“You do not.”

“I do too.”

“Never nicely,” she points out, narrowing her eyes, “You’re like a little boy on the playground, tugging on her pigtails until she figures it ou-“ 

“I don’t want her to figure it out,” he cuts off the assumption, eyes widening in horror at the thought, “Christ, Nance. I thought I made that clear when I ended up shitfaced on your couch.” 

Nancy softens. She can see what’s happening here, see every dampening thought that weighs Eddie down. He might not remember his drunken rambles, but she does. 

“The only thing you made clear is what a spectacular ass you’re making out of yourself,” her words hold no bite, only truth, “Who cares what Steve said that night? He was drunk.” 

“So was I,” Eddie’s eyes are back on you, palms running up his outer thighs until he curls them to fists by his hips, “I was drunk when I talked to you about her. Forget about it.” 

Surprisingly, his stubborn best friend leaves it be. Puts the pointless argument to rest.

Eddie’s feelings can’t rest, though. 

Every night, he tells himself it’ll all go away. The distance will make his heart grow harder, and he’ll eventually be able to wash himself of you one of these days. And every night, all the feelings you’ve sprouted inside of him only teem their way higher, up into his throat and choking him with every last breath before he falls asleep. He can’t forget those first few weeks, the way you seemed to think his coldness was a phase. You’d tried so desperately to seek him out at every function, sparked so many failed conversations with him that left him to burn. Every smile you’d offered him during that time, he’d taken for granted.

Even last week, when you’d interrupted his date, he’d let himself relish in the memory of your attention. Pathetic. 

Had you been jealous? Had you just been spiteful, finally giving him a taste of his own medicine? He couldn’t decide, wouldn’t let himself linger on the reasoning. But he’d remembered your touch, could still feel it scarring his skin wherever your palm of fingertips had rested as you’d scared off Chrissy. He’d even hesitated in the shower that night, pausing for a moment before washing over the shoulder you’d gripped when you’d first approached their table and embarrassed him without care. 

He deserved your spite. 

And he deserves to have to overhear the conversation you’re currently having in the kitchen. You’re going on and on about all the men you’ve had dates with, detailing out every one night stand for Steve and Robin who listen with eager ears.

It makes his stomach churn and twist sharply. Each new man you bring to your roster makes his throat burn with jealousy, plain and simple. And he knows it written all over his face when Nancy leans over and puts a hand on his knee, giving him a concerned look. 

Even the change of topic between Argyle and Jonathan on goddamn Bigfoot can’t overtake the sharp cut of your bragging. 

“I’ve never seen your eyes so green, Eddie.” 

He’s about to snipe back that his eyes are brown, and be unnecessarily cruel from his sour mood, when he realizes what she means.

“I’m not jealous,” he lies through his teeth.

“You very much are.” 

He doesn’t have it in him to bicker back and forth about this again. Not about you, and not with Nancy, “What does it matter? Like I said, me and her? Never gonna happen.”

He had said that. He remembers that, at least, from his drunken confession. He’s sure he reiterated that point several times once he’d made it past the point of coherency. 

“She’s lying,” Nancy casually whispers, pulling her hand back, “She- Us girls talk, you know? Just… she’s lying.” 

“I went on a date with Chrissy. It doesn’t matter.” 

And she has no clue how fucking hung up on her I am. She’ll never know if I have anything to do with it.

“You can keep saying that,” Nancy glances, making sure their other two friends on the couch are still too deep in conversation to listen in, “But we both know that’s not true.” 

Unsurprising. Even if Nancy hadn’t listened to him cry that night about all his miserable yearning, all his unrequited feelings born out of a mess he got himself into, she would have known. Eddie has tried to guard himself when it comes to you, but there’s some times his leashed affection can’t help but seep out. 

Whenever you stumble on sidewalks beside him, his arms and hands are the first to fly out. Whenever the group has gone out to bars altogether, he watches you like a hawk, almost daring the men surrounding you to disrespect you. Whenever your birthday came around, he’d bought that damn gift card to his favorite coffee shop, all because he saw you frequent it twice. Although, to be fair, he’d made Harrington be the messenger there. He wouldn’t have been able to look you in your eye, wouldn’t have been able to put up the bitter persona on a day that should be special to you. He didn’t want to ruin your birthday, so he’d simply sat on the sidelines. Let everyone else go out and celebrate with you. Let everyone else pour enough affection into your cup, even when he wishes his own could have been the final drops to cause it to overfill. 

He had to tread carefully. It’d be too easy — to let himself pour out all these silly feelings and meaningless attraction. One wrong move, and he’d cause his own undoing. His own destruction. It doesn’t matter if it would be by your hand; he’d only have himself to blame at the end of the day.

He’s lost in thought, still itching for a drink, when Nancy is suddenly standing over him. “We’re going out for a smoke, you in?” 

He shakes his head numbly. His mind is far away now, getting lost in all that he’s done wrong, all that he can’t have. 

He’s homesick. He’s watched the way you’ve interacted with Robin and Steve the entire night, and he’s goddamn homesick for a home that he’ll never hold the keys to. 

“You sure, man?” Argyle asks him, wiggling his brows, “I brought the good shit.” 

Numbing his mind with drugs. It’s tempting.

“I’m good,” he reaffirms, still speaking in monotone. He doesn’t have the energy to put up a brave face, too focused on his heavy chest and that miserable pit in his gut still. 

And everyone leaves. He’s sure there’s something poetic for his stormy mind to pick up on there, as he watches his friends gather without him and exit to the outside, but he’s more focused on a miniscule detail.

You’re not with them.

Meaning you’re still in the kitchen.

And God, he really should know better. He should stay planted in his seat and he should sit in his misery until they all return. Only trouble can come from not doing so. But then his body moves to its own accord, fueled by something wickedly cruel and terribly homesick as he grabs one of the bottles of beer off the coffee table. It’s Nancy’s, he’s sure of it. Her lipstick stains the opposite side of the rim he takes a swig from. The beer has long since gone lukewarm, but beggars can’t be choosers. He clears his throat as the bitter lingers on his tongue.

He should know better.

But he doesn’t. He really, really doesn’t as he enters the kitchen. You’re on your phone as he stands in the doorway, and there’s no time to hide what you’d been glancing over.

A dating app.

You spin to face him, and he imagines a world where your eyes land on him and light up. Something akin to that first night, to those first few weeks. Where you look at him with purpose, and he sees relief flood your irises rather than irritation or fear. 

No such luck. He only has himself to blame.

He can’t think of anything else to say, so like an idiot, he gestures vaguely with the bottle of beer towards your phone, “Those apps fucking suck.” 

That jealousy is still gnawing at him. Hateful, painful, reckless. 

You look down at your phone for a second, and click to exit whatever messages you’d been on. And then you look back up at him.

“You’ve used them in the past?” you question him, but he’s still stuck on all the recounts of your escapades he’d overheard tonight. Whether or not they were true didn’t matter. All he sees when he closes his eyes is you, with other men. You, looking at someone else with purpose, relieved eyes awarded to someone more worthy.

He’s lucky he can choke out a short, “Nope,” and make it not sound strangled. 

“Okay,” your attention returns to your phone screen, and Eddie’s returns to his internal battle.

He’s jealous. So goddamn jealous it’s insufferable. It’s not your fault – he chose to push you away, he chose to lash out like a child for his own sanity and his own safety. You’d ruin him; you’ve already ruined him without even trying. If he gave up on the act, on this carefully thought out plan, he’d be beyond leftover rubble of a man. He’d be gone beyond recognition, reduced to ash and smoke. A nameless, forgotten whisper of dust that people would only point to and say, see? Look at that. That’s what becomes of you when you never learn. 

He’s pined enough in his lifetime after girls like you. Girls who were too good for him. He’d done it with Chrissy, and it was still causing him nothing but trouble. 

That burden didn’t hang over Chrissy, or over you. It was all Eddie’s own fault. Neither of you could help that he wasn’t good enough; it wasn’t either of your jobs to fix him or lower your standards for him. You’d even been kind, you’d even nearly fallen into that trap. 

It was for the better. All of it was for the better this way. 

And yet the jealousy remains. The anger still thrives between his ribs, and begs for release. 

“Why are you even still on them?” he should think over his words more carefully as they begin to roll off his tongues. He knows he’s in the wrong before he even continues, “I heard you’ve been having a shit time with the guys on there – quite the opposite of what you’ve been telling Harrington tonight, might I point out.” 

Each word is sharpened so intentionally, glinting from raking against that anger inside of him. You don’t deserve their prick. Really, he should just be comforting you the way the others do – how Robin surely was, how Steve must be. 

But it’s part of the plan. So he tampers down the jealousy and he feeds into the anger, lets it consume him. Because making you hate him is easier than letting you like him. It’s easier to watch the one you can’t have sneer at you like the enemy than let them smile at you like you’re just a friend. 

“I-” you falter in your words, and he decides to straighten his back, takes a deep breath as he slips the mask on effortlessly. He hates how easy it’s become. He hates how quickly he turns everything with you into a fight, “You win some, you lose some. It’s the nature of the app.” 

Sometimes, it’s like a game. And he can pretend that your hatred, your distaste, is also all a facade. Like the both of you are two sides of the same coin. A playful banter rather than an actual argument between two people who can’t even call themselves friends. When he looks at it like that, blinded by his delusion, it makes the ache dull. Sends it away for a few fleeting seconds, convinces himself he really can carry on this way. 

“You haven’t made it sound like you’re losing at all, tonight. I nearly started a drinking game with Nance where we took a swig every time you said you managed to pull another ‘fuck ‘em and leave ‘em’. Quite the boy count you’ve got there, player,” he forces a grin as he leans on the counter, watching his words get under your skin exactly as he had intended. 

You’re cute like this. Clearly drunk, getting flustered. He revels in the way your face physically scrunches in annoyance, the way he can watch you gear up to fight fire with fire. A sick, twisted game of cat and mouse that always can entertain him in the moment and haunt him at night. 

“You’re bluffing. You couldn’t hear me from all the way over there.”

He wonders, for a second, if you’d caught him staring at any point. He wonders if you’d even care.

“We could.”

“No, you couldn’t.”

“Yes, we could.”

“You’re lying.” 

You cross your arms, and he can’t help but watch the way they push your chest up. He can’t help but ponder on how much better it would all feel if this were really playful banter. 

He has to refrain from physically shaking the thought from his mind. 

It’s for the better. 

He narrows his eyes, he grips onto the anger again, that hidden jealousy. He should know better. He should stop it. The words even feel heavy on his tongue, terribly forced. Because his anger isn’t at you. 

“I’m lying? You’re the one who’s been telling Stevie nothing but lies tonight,” and oh, how ironic, for the liar to be calling out someone’s little white lies, “Why do you need to even lie about all that, anyways? It’s not like the truth would be any more pathetic than the act you’re putting up,” the words come out a bit easier when imagines the barrel of the gun pointed at himself, as if he were speaking so casually cruelly into a mirror rather than at you, “Everyone strikes ou-”

He’s clearly struck a nerve. And it aches, but he reminds himself that that’s the point. That’s his goal.

 “I’m pathetic? Just last week, you lied to the group. You were trying to avoid being where I’d be and told them you had to walk your neighbor’s dog.” 

He wasn’t trying to avoid you. He was trying to avoid Nancy after his entire drunken confession fiasco. 

“I did!” he continues to lie. Even with no one to show for, he piles up his lies high. Buries himself beneath them, beneath his pathetic act and worthless reasons. It’s probably for the best that you had assumed that he was avoiding you. 

“Your apartment has a strict no pet policy, Eddie.” 

The act cracks for a moment as he freezes. Why did you know about his apartment’s pet policy? 

“How do you know that?”

It can’t be because you care, or even get curious about him. He’s done everything in his power to cause the exact opposite, to make you be repulsed by him and to run the other way if you can help it. 

“I didn’t, but Nancy did,” He doesn’t even react to the roll of your eyes, unable to get riled up as he usually would at that. It clicks for him; it makes sense, because Nancy had stormed down his door not even a day later, “It’s all I had to hear about the entire night. How she wishes we could get along, how she hates when you lie to her. Thanks for that, by the way.” 

Eddie does feel guilty about that. He doesn’t mean for his own self-destructive behavior to leach out to his friends, or even you. His goal has always been to make it so that when he’s not around, he’s not even an afterthought to you. But selfishly, part of him preens at the idea of you being reminded of him, of you thinking of him when he’s not in the room with you. It’s a conundrum. It’s almost deadlier than his other option. 

“It’s not my fuckin’ fault you go out with my friends,” he grumbles like a damn child, almost pouting in his guilt. There’s another selfish sliver of him that’s also upset at that – upset at the fact everyone else gets to bloom with your friendship and positive attention, but not him. Once again, it’s his own doing. He really shouldn’t be angry at you about it. 

“And it’s not my fault that you don’t.” 

Times like these make him want to give it all up. He has to physically tense his body, tick his jaw and bite his tongue to avoid throwing the entire act to the side. He wants nothing more than to grab you by your shoulders and shake you, scream that sometimes it is your fault. But you don’t know it – you can’t read his mind, see past his intentions. 

You don’t know what Steve had so generously reminded him of that very first night. 

“Whatever. Why are you lying to Steve?” his voice is devoid of all emotion despite the storm brewing inside of him. He can’t even blame it on alcohol – he wishes he could, but his tolerance to beer can handle the single sip he’s taken. He crosses his arms, wrapping them around his body, trying to protect that terrible vulnerability only he’s aware of. When your position mirrors his, he wonders for a moment if you’re also feeling it. 

But you’ve been drinking. This entire conversation, every emotion, can be blamed on that. You’re luckier than Eddie. 

“I’m not lying.”

“You are. With Steve, and with me at this very moment.” 

He lets a reaction at his own irony slip through for a brief second, eyebrows furrowing as the voice inside him screams hypocrite! Hypocrite! Hypocrite!

He wishes he could pretend to be oblivious to why he can’t stop bringing Steve up, but he knows better. He can bury the jealousy alive, but it still bites all the same. 

“How the fuck do you even know how my dating life is going? We aren’t exactly friends. Did Robin tell you? Did Steve tell you?” 

We aren’t exactly friends. 

He should relish that confirmation that his plan is working, that you truly don’t see him as a friend, but it just fucking stings. He swallows hard physically, as if it can help him swallow down the truth any better, but it does nothing for him. The truth only continues to choke him up. His tongue has momentarily frozen over in his mouth as he tries to push past the painful reminder and wrap up this conversation. He feels it, that sharp burn of an unattended wound, and he realizes at the wrong moment that whether or not he keeps you at an arm's length, bloodshed will always occur. 

At least this way, he tells himself it’s protecting himself. This way, the knife isn’t pointed at his own heart. 

“You’re right. We aren’t friends,” the words are poison on his tongue. They taste of dirt and rust, like a grave that screams to be dug up but he has no shovel. He’d tossed it once he’d sealed the tomb, like a fool, “But Rob and Nance are, and Nance and me are. See where I’m going with that one?” 

At least he wasn’t lying to you for a brief moment. Nance had told him. He’d throw you that bone, at least. 

“Well-” and with your own pause, you seemingly return the favor. You’re handing him yet another opportunity on a silver platter; exposing an insecurity that he should let live and let die, but he won’t for the sake of the wall he has bled to put up between you two, “You say that as if Nancy and I aren’t friends.” 

“Are you?” 

He’ll regret that taunt for the rest of his days. Two simple words, and he’s damned himself. The conversation that follows, about Instagram and followers and social standards of friendship, doesn’t even matter to him. It’s just a routine. Constant knives, clashing swords of words, lie after lie piling up with the bile in his throat as he shoots for kills. He hands over reason after reason for you to resent him, and makes sure that each punch lands. Ignores the ache, the one billowing in his knuckles as if each subtle insult he tosses your way doesn’t bruise his innards all the same way. By the end of the back and forth, it should be enough, for both of you. He’s accomplished the same thing he always sets out to do with every conversation: he pisses you off, putting another inch in that stretch between you two. 

But then you turn your back on him. And he deserves it. God, he deserves it. But he’s still full of bad ideas tonight, the awfulness of the last few days still suffocating him, and so he makes another decision to regret. He walks up behind you.

You open your phone, and he sees it. You’re on the dating app again, and the screen flashes with the face of your latest contender. 

He knows that face. He schools his face to remain even, but he fucking knows that face. 

The bartender at his local haunt. The only other person besides Nancy who had ever seen Eddie so miserable over you. He had been drinking alone that night, and the whiskey had him pouring out his guts to the poor guy. Slurred words of the girl who had slipped between his fingers, of the one who got away, of you. 

And that same bartender had been the one to sympathize with Eddie, claiming he understood. That he knew that feeling – dating around and doing anything in your power to get the girl you truly want off your mind. He said he had one of his own. He’d told Eddie that his pain-riddled speeches helped him make up his mind, that he was going to go after the girl he really wanted, that Eddie should do the same. 

Was this bartender your ex-boyfriend? Had the two of them been discussing the exact same girl?

Bad decisions. Over, and over, and over. It all comes to a rise within Eddie – not just the anger, but the jealousy and the hurt and the goddamn envy of the man on the screen. He hates the bartender, he hates himself, he hates the world at this point.

He tells himself he should add you to that list. But he doesn’t. He can’t. 

And it all spirals out of control before he can prove that to himself. Words grow sharper, small kindles of tension between the two of you finally explode to full blown flames, and he’s suddenly saying things he doesn’t mean. Things he’ll linger on for the days and weeks, the months to come. 

“You’re so dense, you never realize that you’re not wanted, Not by those assholes, not here-” 

He’s mid-lie, one finger on the trigger of the gun he assumed was aimed at his own chest, when it finally happens. A snap within both of you. Timed perfectly with the glass that shatters against the wall beside his head. 

Eddie learns two things that night. 

One, half of his plan worked. He’s succeeded. You hated Eddie Munson’s guts, and instead of him being content in his success, he’s sick to his stomach. It doesn’t bandage the wound inside of him, doesn’t pack away cotton nor cauterize the bleeding. It only worsens it. Widens it, impossibly so. He swears shards of that broken glass fly right into his unsuspecting chest, even if Nancy doesn’t find a trace on him when she comes back inside to see the aftermath. You hate him, he’s proven his point. He has proven himself to be the worst possible version of himself, the most unlovable man he had always seen in the mirror now residing in him staunchly enough that every single one of his friends sees it. 

He’d done it. He’d diminished any chance he had ever held of being friends with you. And he thought that, without a doubt, that meant he’d diminished any disastrous chance of letting you close enough to risk the chance of any more of his feelings getting involved. He thought it would have meant that he’d done it – he’d protected himself, and in some sick twisted way you, from inevitable bloodshed. 

But blood had still been shed. Even if his friends were only cleaning up broken glass in the kitchen, he could still see the stain of red across the floor and walls from you and him. He was bleeding out for you, but he had just driven the knife in deep enough that you would never return the feeling. There was no world where you would be bleeding out for him, only because of him. 

The second revelation comes a bit later in the night.

Closer to midnight, hours after the fight, when Eddie finds himself alone as per usual. He stumbles to his usual bar, thankful for the late hours, fully prepared to get so fucking wasted he can’t remember his own name. He’d wish to not remember your face, especially when he had spewed such hateful intent your way, but he knows there’s not a single brand or amount of whiskey out there that can cleanse him of that. Your name is just another ghost to add to the lineup. You’ll haunt him until his dying day. And he deserves that. 

But then, when he walks into the bar, he sees the bartender. 

The same man who had stood you up just the night before. The same man Eddie simply couldn’t understand. He was clearly on a date, a nice girl sat at the table across from him, laughing at every word he said. Eddie remembers their conversation, although a bit hazy. 

“I think you’re onto something, man. Some girls are just… irreplaceable. I’ve got a girl like that of my own – prettiest eyes you’ll ever see, a smile that could cure cancer – and… you know what? I think we should both go for it. Give up on the girls who could never compare.” 

He wants to vomit. The bastard had even poured a round of shots on the house, had fucking cheered with Eddie before throwing back the alcohol with him in the promise of moving onto the girls who matter. 

He had said cheers to discarding you. Brushing off you. To you being one of the girls who could never compare. 

Eddie’s vision goes red, and he knows half of the blame falls on himself. He’d been the reason this asshole stood you up. He had already been the reason for your pain tonight before he’d even said a word to you. His self hatred has never burned so deeply, so viciously.

But you can’t punch yourself. And so instead, Eddie doesn’t hold back when he approaches the table and lands his right knuckles right on the bastard’s cheek bone. Even goes in for a second punch. He would have gotten in a third punch, but the bartender hits back. Not as hard as Eddie, fists fueled by self-defense rather than ravaging guilt and crippling self-hatred, but enough to get deter him until security could gather both men up.

It’s in the alleyway that he has his second revelation. At the hands of the man who had just hurt you. It was like looking in a mirror. Eddie nearly does finally vomit as he leans against the brickwall, security a few paces away, ready to file a police report. But then, the bastard still manages to somehow be better than Eddie, throwing up a hand to stop them from dialing for the cops. 

“Don’t,” is all he says, leveling a stare when Eddie’s eyes fill with tears.

“Really?” Eddie cocks an eyebrow, pushing his luck. He needs someone to punish him. He needs to be thrown in a cell for the night, to be treated as the degenerate he truly was, “I just rearranged your fucking face and-”

“Why’d you punch me?” the bartender spits out some blood, nose crooked, “You- You’re a fucking regular, dude. How’d I piss in your cheerios?” 

Eddie’s feeling vulnerable. All his actual feelings boiling and burning in the back of his throat, begging to be released. He doesn’t need a drop of whiskey this time to be honest. 

“The girl,” Eddie rasps, tears threatening to spill as he pictures your face again, “I told you about the girl. The one no one else compared to.” 

The bartender’s eyes widen, “Jesus, fuc- are you telling me that we were talking about the same fucking girl? I- Vanessa told me she wasn’t seeing anyone else, I can’t believe she fucking lie-”

“Not her,” Fuck Vanessa, Eddie thinks bitterly, almost laughing. He has no right to say his next words, but he does, and they cause a pain worse than even the most nightmarish hangovers he’s ever experienced, “My girl is the one you stood up for her.”

You weren’t his girl. You never would be his girl. 

The bartender only looks more confused, and Eddie’s anger flares a bit more at the thought of him talking to more girls beyond you. The man before him had had everything Eddie wanted: he had had you. And just like Eddie, he had fucked it all up. It was easy to misdirect his anger in the moment. 

He says your name out loud, a searing iron in his throat that makes it come out garbled and strangled. Some recognition falls upon the man’s face. 

“Oh… her.” 

Eddie doesn’t hold back, “Her? That’s all you have to fucking say? You stood her up, you fucking- Jesus Christ, go burn in Hell,” He’s being irrational. He doesn’t care, “Call the cops on me. Tell them to let me rot in a fucking cell. I deserve it – but so do you. That girl… that… her. She’s one in a fucking million, she’s a thousand times better than whatever girl you have waiting on you inside, and you couldn’t see that. You’re a goddamn dick.” 

No one makes the move for the call. The bartender just shakes his head again, being far too patient. Eddie opens his mouth, ready to scream now as he demands they punish him. Make him pay for his crimes. Not just the punches, but everything he had broken tonight.

He broke you tonight. He deserves to burn in Hell far more than the man before him. 

“I knew you were in love with her, but-”

Eddie cuts him off, “I’m not in love with her.”

He hates the look he receives. It’s the same pity that Nancy now looks at him with. That same hidden judgment, like everyone else knows something that he doesn’t. 

“You may hate to hear it,” the bartender is choosing his words very carefully as he swipes in a contrasting carelessness at the blood pouring out of one of his nostrils, “But you don’t throw punches like that for a girl you’re not in love with. So I suggest you mind your business, and if she is as valuable as you keep going on about, you tell her rather than punching the dude he just serves you fucking alcohol.” 

He doesn’t even have to close his eyes to see you anymore. The image of you is clear as day, even with his eyes open. You, broken and vulnerable and full of hatred for him. Just as he had intended. 

Success tastes metallic and bitter. Eddie finally empties what little he had in his stomach onto that concrete alleyway.

He doesn’t leave the wall. Not when the bartender goes back inside with one of the bar’s bouncers, not when the remaining bouncer eyes him and nervously steps forward, not when they return with a paper declaring him banned from the bar. 

He can’t move. All he sees is you. He hasn’t drank more than that one pitiful swig of beer at Steve’s, but he feels like his world has gone incoherent all the same. 

He fucked up. 

He crinkles that piece of paper harshly once he’s properly left alone in the alleyway, angry enough that it tears a bit from his force. It doesn’t phase him; he didn’t intend on returning anyways. He carries it with him the entire way home, regardless, rolls it between his palms until it’s gone soft with the sweat of his hands. 

It’s for the better. He fucked up, but it’s for the better. 

He tosses the wadded ball into the trash when he gets home. Goes through the numb motions of taking off his shoes, tossing his jacket on the counter rather than the hook he’d put up for it, and leaves his bike’s keys beside it. Eventually, he makes his way to the bathroom, brushing his teeth but never once glancing up in the mirror. As a matter of fact, he avoided every single reflective surface in his apartment that night. 

He still sees your face, broken and teary, as he turns off his bedroom light and lays on his mattress that night. It doesn’t matter how many times he repeats it to himself, reminds himself over and over, the mantra of it being for the better doesn’t work. It can’t break through. All because of a pathetic revelation.

Eddie learns that night that he is, in fact, in love with you. And it doesn’t matter, because you hate his fucking guts, just as he had intended. 

—

You don’t make a single move once Eddie breathlessly finishes his explanation. Not even to breathe. 

He’s been in love with you since that night at Steve’s. 

You’d known that he had punched the bartender that night. You’d known that he had been banned from his usual bar that night. But you hadn’t known the entire truth. You couldn’t have ever imagined it, ever pieced it together, until now. 

And you don’t know if that speaks more on you and how dense you’ve been this entire time, or on Eddie and how dishonest he’s been this entire time. 

“God, I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ll never be fucking worthy.”

It suddenly makes sense. At a sickening and sudden pace, it clicks into place. 

“Eddie, I-” 

“Don’t,” he stops you, looking you directly in your eyes. You nearly shrink under his attention. Your fury is gone; you just feel empty, “You… You don’t need to say it back. You don’t need to say anything – the bet’s off. I’m not being honest to stop you from leaving,” he admits, every single wall crumbling at both of your feet, “I’m just being honest because you deserve it. I should have told you that night. I should- I actually should have never done any of this. Any of it.” 

You remember the girl you once were. In a bar, surrounded by strangers and new friends, with tunnel vision for the boy in front of you. You remember that feeling of coming home, the way you ached for him to let you in and had been fooled for one night that it was possible. 

A year later, and he was letting you in, too late. 

“Why?” your voice cracks. You should just pick up your bag and go, but you can’t. Not until you stick the final stitches into the wound, seal up this hurt once and for all. For you and for Eddie. “Why would you… Why would you do that? Why would you set out to make me hate you?” 

“Because I didn’t deserve you,” he says it like a simple fact, like it doesn’t shatter you apart, “Because I knew if I didn’t create the rift and kept letting you in, I’d fall in love with you. At first, I thought I needed you to hate me to prevent it. Figured you’d be stronger than me about it. If I made you hate me, I was… Honestly, I was saving myself. I’d tell myself it was about saving you, but it wasn’t. I was being fucking selfish.”

You nod silently, swallowing down tears. Tears for what could have been, tears for what you still want so badly that it aches. 

“All because of Steve making…” you trail off, head trying to wrap around all the honesty he had just presented you with, “Making some off-handed, drunk comment.” 

It was Eddie’s turn to silently nod. To swallow hard and flutter his eyes shut so you couldn’t see the hurt lit within them. 

“You said you hated me,” you’re thinking out loud more than you’re properly speaking to him at this point, voice broken and soft, hands fighting the urge to reach out for him. Even after it all. Every reminder of what he had done for you, and now having the pitiful reason behind it all, still couldn’t break what had formed here tonight. Everything has still changed for you, “When I said everything changes, I meant the hate – I didn’t want to hate you anymore.” 

“I know,” he bites his lip, as if he’s trying to hold back any careless words. Words that might hurt you, but not for the same reasons as they used to, “That’s why… not much has changed. I never hated you. God knows I wanted to. I told myself I had to hate you, because if I didn’t hate you, I’d love you. And I couldn’t do that again – I couldn’t handle falling in love with someone I couldn’t have. I knew I wouldn’t survive loving you when you’d never love me back. It wouldn’t be fair… to either of us.” 

“But you did it anyway,” you almost laugh at the awfulness of it all, terribly irony stacking up between you, “You fell in love with me, you said it yourself. You… you loved me.”

“Love,” he corrects, eyes now wide open, “I love you. It’s not- It’s not some feeling in the past tense. You should still hate me, because I still love you.” 

He’s right, you finally realize. You should hate him for all of this. 

“And all of this counted on the first part of your plan working,” he has to take a step closer, whether it be subconscious or due to how low your voice has dropped. The physical distance erased aches. Splinters each of your bones and all of your emotions, “Which you never even asked me if it worked, even now. You just assumed.” 

He takes a deep, brave breath before he quietly asks you, “Did it work?”

You both already know the answer now, “No.”

But it changes nothing. You know that, he knows that. It’s just as he said – the point of saying it out loud no longer has anything to do with repairing what’s been damaged just tonight. You’re both being honest only because you both deserve it. You both deserve to finally close this tomb. 

You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to close it, though. Not truly. Not properly. 

“I can’t stay,” you whisper, “I still… I still need to leave.” 

Especially now. 

“I know you do,” he responds. He’s gentle, understanding. 

It doesn’t stop the tear you see break from his lower lashes. He doesn’t draw any attention to it, doesn’t so much as move to clear it from his cheek. As if he’s scared if he does, you’ll notice it if you hadn’t already.

“The bet’s still off,” you continue, unable to meet his gaze as you pick up your bag once more. 

“I know it is.” 

He doesn’t try to stop you this time. And part of you, this time, wishes he would have as you slip back out the front door of apartment 2C and let the door shut with a quiet click behind you.

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[daenysx]

I seriously love the vibes of all your sleepovers. Can I ask for modern!au where James Potter babies and comforts reader when she’s having a hard time? If not totally understand <3

James has big hands. Big, not so soft because the air is dry and he neglects applying hand cream, but always gentle. He's really good at putting on the right amount of pressure as he rubs wide circles on your back. You kind of want to melt here and never deal with anything else.

It's a bad day. More like a bad week. You can find reasons or maybe excuses if you try hard enough, but you don't want to. You feel beyond overwhelmed, so emotional but also so empty. Something disturbs your stomach, your legs get numb if you don't stretch them enough. Your body doesn't feel like it's yours and- that's too annoying to be true.

James is here. He always is. His fingers press on the tight spots on your back and you try to relax. It works, mostly. It works better when he kisses you.

"Can I get a kiss?" you ask him with a low voice. You know he tries to be cautious, not overbearing, just here for you. You don't mind asking for things.

"Of course," he says, cupping your cheek to get you closer. "You can have as many kisses as you want."

This is a good promise. You feel better, focusing on James' lips and controlling your breathing. His thumb gently circles on the skin of your neck, you sigh softly. He takes his time, cuddling up and holding you in his lap. A hand goes on your thigh to stroke the tight muscle.

"I feel better," you tell him. He never asks verbally, but you know he likes it when you let him know. Your fingers linger on his cheeks, he smiles broadly, the kind of sunshiny one you love seeing so much.

"Happy to hear that, angel girl," he kisses your neck sweetly. "Are you hungry? Maybe we can order something, Sirius was talking about a new place."

You shake your head. "Can we decide later?" Suddenly making the simplest decisions is hard.

"Sure," he agrees. "You know, actually I changed the coffee brand we always get. Do you wanna try it?"

"Hmm," it sounds good, you just don't think you can leave the bed.

"I can just make it really quick."

"I'm gonna come with you to kitchen," you tell him. "Just- 5 minutes later."

He laughs, and it's bright. He's so strong as he pulls you to his chest, hugging you so tight. "My sweetheart, did I tell you how much I love you today? You smell so good, I wish we could just stay like this forever."

"I love you." you say with your softest voice.

"I love you, I love you so much," he kisses his way on your neck, holding you in his lap so tight. "My sweetest angel, I love you so much."

You laugh, smiling so big as he kisses you again and again. He keeps holding you until you're ready to go to kitchen, you're on clouds, being in love with him feels so safe- you like being in his arms. You like being kissed so sweetly. You like how you can stop thinking, he's here and he thinks of everything when you can't.

starry girl sleepover ☆

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

what do the rouges think of cardinal?

OHHHHH What a lovely question <33

Since i've yet to write in Cardinal in a scene beyond his desk work- these might change.

Cardinal acts well- like a cryptic?? It's a complete coin toss how he will behave, if he will turn the creepy to 100% and speak in tounge's (its a mix of latin and greek) But when he DOES respond its through a heavy voice modulater.

However if you want specifics?? (also some extra lore of some rouges no longer active- both due to. Cardinals interference and BECAUSE I SAID SO)

Joker- They are a menace, never once humors his schemes- he knows the moment Cardinal gets involved his fun is ruined. Therefore he hates their guts. (Cardinal is reported 10x more brutal when faced with the Joker)

Scarecrow- Self proclaimed "Arch enemy" of Cardinal since hes never once sucseeded in drugging them, and he longs to know what would make the little bird sing. (Cardinal is said to have an entire pocket dedicated to backup rebreathers, usually lets the bats take over)

Riddler- LOVES Cardinal so so much- they are like best friends (no no they are not) Cardinal seems to enjoy his puzzles and he's able to pull out ones even the Batman would struggle with. Sometimes an informant for a good game. (Cardinal will admit, out of all the rouges? He doesn't mind Riddler- just with less hostages)

Harley- Thinks they are strange, even more strange than the bats. But more than anything concerning- their behaviors raise a ton of red flags but she doubts she can convince them to therapy, though it is her goal. (Cardinal is... unsure about Harley, she's changed- but memories are hard)

Ivy- Theres a mutual respect- Though out of all the vigilantes Cardinal seems to fear her the most, the last time being hit by her pollen they freaked out enough Harley made her give over the antidote. They definently fight, but she does try and hold back some of her more underhanded stuff. (Cardinals suit got several more layers after that incident)

Mr.Freeze- Reformed villain now, as a result of Cardinal. Aka when he first did his villain monologue to them- they had spoke (for the first time to ANY rouge) and asked to see his blue prints. A few years later his suit was fortified to help him live a somewhat normal life, and his wife had been cured. They got their life back. Leaving Gotham soon after, but he still checks in on ocassion (Cardinal never responds though, but they're happy with the updates- that he was able to help)

Catwoman- Annoying, but interesting for sure. It seems no matter how elaborate her scheme they always seem to pop in and just stare or even wave. The most interesting thing though? They never stop her. Certian locations she robs they will return the item (usually museums) but have never once tried to actually take her in. If anything shes half convinced they throw the bats off her trail, its interesting. (She never steals from anyone who cant afford to replace it, and honestly her stuff goes to a good cause-)

Clayface- Never became a villain- After his accident, Dagget had been shut down long before so Matt Hageb he had no accsess to the cream. With the help of his coworker (and future husband) Teddy Lupus he got the help he needed. Drake Industries came out with an amazing prosthesis program that helped construct a whole new face. Now Mr & Mr Lupus live in upper west side of Gotham where they now raise two daughters going to Gotham Academy.

Blackmask- Hates their fucking guts. People think Cardinal comes down on the Joker hard? They're practically suffocating Black Mask movements- buisness is failing and at this rate he's trying to put out a hit on the fucker. (The hates their guts is mutual)

Two face- Instead of going to the Manori trial- Harvey had an emergency call from a very panicky Bruce who suddenly had CPS knocking at his door about Dick. The delay finding a new attorney meant Manori was found with the acid and held for attempted assault while Harvey was scot free. He owns his own law firm now and has continued to be a close confident to Bruce and "Uncle" to the kids. (Cardinal cried when he first found out about Harvey, that he was okay- he thought it had been too late.)

Penguin- Cardinal is a pain in their ass, not as much as Black mask but still just enough that he doesnt hold back when attacking. The ONLY saving grace from absolute hatred is Cardinal outright refuses to fight any of his birds, and will even go as far as to save some of them when the bats are too careless to notice a penguin slipping off a roof. (Cardinal wishes Penguin would stop dragging actual penguins into his shit- even with guns they're just too cute)

[shewritesforpoc]

body. ||mingi x you||mdni!

pairings : fwb!mingi x blackfem!reader

synopsis : you and your best friend fucked around one day, and now hes all you think about. what if he doesnt want you the same way you want him? youre mind, heart, and body are desperate to know.

warnings : s m u t , pwp, mentions of past sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up ho), friends with benefits to lovers, use of petnames (baby, princess, etc), creampie, oral (fem rec), love confession, fluff towards the end, lowercase intended, i used some random male idol names but it has nothing to do with them, rambling, mentions of squirting, implied orgasm denial, softdom!mingi, submissive asf! reader, it fr gets cheesy at the end, implied aftercare, mentions of soft choking (he placed his hand on your throat)this shit was filthy

a/n : sorry for late uploading. but we should be back on schedule! anyways thank you for all the likes and i hope you guys enjoy it!! this was heavily inspired by the song body by summer walker so i suggest listening to it! story under the cut ;)

i been all up in my phone, i got options.

youve been on several dates, some more successful than others. some ended in a kiss on the cheek, some ended in the sheets. you saved the numbers of the best ones.

jailen

hyunjin

taeyong

marcus

damn, thats it? you thought to yourself. “who should i call tonight?” you thought again.

somethin’ that makes me look at you too often. and baby you can give it somethin’.

hes been circling around your mind all day. you told him that after the first time, it wont happen again. he respected it. he came over at times and you guys chilled like friends normally do. but theres something about him, the way he slowly moved his hips when he was deep inside. the way he caressed your body. the way he made you feel was way beyond what anyone in your phone could make you feel. song mingi.

but you told him that it shouldnt happen anymore…maybe just a little touch? no, you’re talkin crazy now. oh goodness, the more you think of it, the more memories come back of the best night of your life, the more you craved him.

i need you all in my space, for now. i need it, baby im late but i can still check in with you.

you(r pussy) decided that you needed him. just for him to sit next to you. sure hes just your friend, a friend who gave you dick when you wanted to test the waters, now youre thinking he completely ruined you. he ruined it for everyone else. you need him in your space. so you called and asked him to come over for something “important”. he told you he’d be there in about 10 minutes.

it feels like 10 days when your waiting for something that you know you cant do without.

i know that i need my friend, but i wouldnt wanna leave.

mingi arrives at your place. of course not empty handed. he has some snacks and drinks. “hey you!” mingi says as he walks into your home. he side hugs you and sets the bags down. “hey! im so glad your here.” you say but the last part sounded more needy than anything. “so whats the important thing you told me to come over for? wanna snack while you talk about it?” mingi said. its his calm and caring nature that sets him apart from anyone else.

“oh uh, yeah lets go ahead and eat—well you go ahead while i talk about whats important.” you told him. its probably obvious by now but you were so full of adrenaline, you started to tremble slightly. you felt hot with anticipation. here goes nothing you suppose. “so remember that night we fucked?” you said suddenly. he was mid swallow when you said that. it caught him so off guard that he choked a bit. “jesus girl, you tryna kill me? but yes i remember…how can i forget.” he said smirking.

but my heart, my mind, and my body is sayin…

“i know i said it shouldnt happen again…” you trail off. at this point, the adrenaline is so high youre not even sure if youre in control of your body. it feels like your on autopilot. if it were anyone else, you wouldnt mind speaking your mind, but its him whos making this difficult. “yes?” he says. his deep voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “i need you. i want you. no one else can make me feel good. sex with you is amazing. my pussy doesnt cry for anyone but you. i dont know what you did to me. and its not even my pussy who wants you. im scared to say this, i dont want to lose our friendship but—.”

mingi kissed you to calm you down. you were so busy ranting that you didnt even notice he was close to you. “you want me baby? i want you too. im not saying that just to silence you, i actually want you. i want more than whats in your pants. i want your heart, mind, and body. would you give it to me, hm? lemme make you mine.” he said as he guided you to your room.

he laid you down and kissed you passionately. he kissed from your lips to your neck. as he took off your shirt and bra, he kissed and marked you down. he took your tits and kissed them, he licked and sucked on your nipples. you let out soft whines for more. “you like that princess?” he asked softly. you quickly nodded. “you want more?” he asked. you nodded again. “ah ah baby, use your words. tell me you want more.” he said as he held your throat. he didnt squeeze, he just held it.

“i want more! please, please min, give it to me!” you said out of desperation. by the time you were finished with your sentence, your pants were already on the floor, and he was faced with your pussy. “hm, youre so wet honey. i know you needed me, but i didn’t think you needed me this much.” he said while making eye contact. jesus, that mans stare is deadly. it makes your pussy leak some more.

he wastes no more time, and gives your sensitive clit and fat lick. one lick, then another, then another, then he closed his lips around it and started to suck gently. this made you immediately want to close your legs around his head. he held them open by locking his arms around them. “oh no baby, let me give you want you need.” his voice dripping with lust. he hadnt even started good yet but you were already closing your legs. he began to make out with your pussy. slipping his tongue in, youre tasting as sweet as honey. hes becoming drunk on you.

“f..faster..please min!” you moan out. he listens to you and licks on your clit, meanwhile he inserts one finger in you. just to get you ready for the “real thing” as he says. this made your body lift slightly off the bed. shortly after noticing how well you were taking it, he slid another finger. doing the come hither motion. hes so precise in what hes doing, hitting your g-spot effortlessly, you get closer to cumming faster than youd like. “oh my goodness min, i…i-m about to cum!” you moan loudly.

he only smirks as he brings you closer and closer. you feel yourself about to cum, its so hot. it feels so good it makes you close your eyes tightly, but it never comes. as you open your eyes, your breathing becoming stable again, you realize he stopped. “why?” you say out of breath. “dont question it honey.” he says as he licks his fingers. “to make you officially mine, you need to cum on this dick baby.” he said. this tone he had, it was adding fuel to your fire.

mingi gets off the bed to strip his clothes off. his toned muscles, the way he jerked his insanely erected dick, it was making your head spin with need. he climbs back in bed, and positions himself. he looks at you to make sure that your still good. there wasnt a single thought behind your dark eyes, but you managed to nod your head to let him know your ready.

he slides himself in slowly. the stretch wasnt too painful due to how wet you were. he felt bigger than last time. you closed your eyes in bliss, your mouth fell open and you let out a string of cuss words, and moans. him the same. “goddamn babygirl, youre so fuckin tight…fuck baby, they must’ve not done you right.” he said as he bottomed out. you couldnt even speak at this moment. all you think about was how delicious he felt inside you.

he started to rock his hips into you slowly, letting you savor the feeling. “feel me here? you feel my dick right here?” he said. he had one hand pressing slightly down on your belly. it felt like he was in your stomach. you couldnt do anything but moan and scream for him. “ah—fuck it feels….sososo good!” you managed to moan out. he started to pick the pace up, you were already close from how good he ate you up. no surprise that you were about to cum for him.

he knew you were close without you saying a word. your cries and screams were enough for him. “i—i…” you moaned. “i know baby…fuck—hold it for me. can you hold it for me? hold it so we can cum together?” he huffed out. it felt like mission impossible, the way that he was rocking, the fast pace, how deep he was. “no—i cant do it….i…i cant take…it—-fuck im gonna cum.” your noises were music to his ears. mingi couldnt lie, the way you sounded, felt, looked, smelled even…it was bringing him closer to his orgasm.

“okay baby…let go…cum on this dick baby! make it yours, make it—oh fuck make it yours honey.” he moaned. the quickness of his high took him by surprise. it didnt take but 2 more snaps of his hips before you were cumming hard. you mightve even squirt a little, it didnt matter in that moment. all you could do was ride the wave of your intense high.

you were outta breathe, legs were shaking, beautiful colored skin glistening with sweat, tears forming, this was the sight that did mingi in. “oh my fucking—god baby youre so—fuck m’cumming…oh fuck—shit!” he moaned as he stilled his hips in you. his cum coating your walls. his toned abdomen twitching, his skin feeling hot, his breathing was deep, his lower body would twitch as ropes of cum were coming out. mingi was a bit of a whimperer. it was sexy nonetheless.

he pulled out slowly, as to not overstimulate the both of you. he watched as your pussy was expelling the excess of his cum. it made his cock twitch, but he pulled himself away from the sight to go find a rag and clean the both of you up. he wiped the cum off his dick and your pussy. he helped you up, and you stripped the cum ruined bedding, soon after you were both dressed comfortably, you laid down and looked at the ceiling.

“i didnt wanna lose our friendship. i didnt wanna ruin it.” you said tiredly. “oh baby, it was ruined the first time we fucked. i was ruined, when i fucked a girl, i moaned your name instead of hers. thats how i knew i needed you more than just sex. i needed to be with you.” he said. he turned his body toward you, and spooned you. “same, so what are we?” you asked. “youre mine. youre my girlfriend, your heart is mine, your body is mine, your mind is mine. and im yours all the way.” he answered. it made you smile.

after that night, you deleted every number you saved. and he did the same.

did i eat down???

REQS ARE OPEN PLEASEEEEEE SEND ME SOMETHIN TO WRITE!!!!!!!!!!!!

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