#but i’m not necessarily upset about it
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can’t tell if i’m falling out of love for writing fanfic or if i’ve just been super stressed out lately ahaha
#z.cries#only time will tell#i think partly watching my fics getting no feedback aside from a few#people also maybe just doesn’t give me the encouragement to write much anymore#but i’m prolly not done writing just need a break#should i go on hiatus? idck#idfk**#anyway this was an odd vent post??#but i’m not necessarily upset about it#just an observation i made tbh#i’m in a great mood today and part of that is bc i havent been online#too many stressors online lately and its nice to disconnect from that a lot of times#uhm anyway if u read all that congrats and ty#i smooch u mwah 💋
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it is so vitally important to me that aziraphale and crowley not only love each other but choose to love each other.
i don’t want it to be fate. i don’t want it to be god’s will. i want it to be a conscious and continuous choice.
i want aziraphale choosing every day of his goddamn existence to love crowley and all that he is. i want aziraphale choosing to love crowley not in spite of being a demon, but because he is a demon. i want aziraphale choosing to love crowley’s curiosity and creative wonder. i want aziraphale choosing to love crowley’s love of plants and gardening.
i want crowley choosing to love aziraphale’s passion for books. i want crowley choosing to love aziraphale’s desire to do things the human way even if he could just miracle it. i want crowley choosing to love aziraphale’s angel-ness because it is a fundamental part of him.
i want aziraphale choosing to love everything about crowley and vise versa. and i want it to be a very conscious and intentional choice.
it being fate negates the entire point of the story. good omens is a love story between an angel and a demon, yes. but that’s not all that it is. it’s a story about two occult/ethereal beings who choose humanity over the great plan. two beings who choose the world over armageddon. and they make those choices because despite it all they have chosen to fall in love with the world and with humanity.
it only makes sense that they choose each other. that they choose their love. it being fate or god’s will ruins the foundational pillar of their relationship. that they choose each other over and over and over again. year after year, century after century, time and time again. they always choose. they choose the arrangement, they choose saving the other from harm, they choose lying to protect the other.
it is always a choice. and it better stay a choice or i am going to be so devastated.
#look i’m good with most anything for s3#as long as they end up in the south downs & hug at least once i will be happy#but this is one thing that isn’t necessarily a need but more like a deep rooted desire that will break me if not met#like if it’s all ‘haha this was god’s plan all along’ i will be so upset#disappointed even#because neil can do better than that#he’s a better writer than that#not to mention it makes absolutely no sense in the context of the story#like i understand how it’s fun to play around with ‘they were made for each other’#but i really want them to choose each other despite everything#because if i’m being honest it’s one of the things about aziracrow that feels fundamentally queer#to say ‘yeah fuck that’ to what the systems in power tell you you should act like#or who you should love and care for#and instead say ‘i choose this’ ‘i choose you’ to the people and things that actually fulfill you#that is powerful and that is foundational to queerness and queer liberation in my opinion#it’s not about fate or being made for whatever#it’s saying ‘i don’t care if it’s fate or the divine plan or not. it just is and you can’t change the fact that it simply /is/.’#and maybe that’s just me#but it sure as hell makes sense in my mind#good omens#aziracrow#ineffable husbands#crowley#aziraphale#good omens 2#ineffable wives#neil gaiman#good omens meta#aziracrow meta#gomens meta
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using the tags to vent my current emotional state into the void bc ig story feels like a bad plan for this, read at your own risk.
#but jesus christ coming back home while already knee deep in a suicidal episode was an awful idea#like i was maybe on the verge of improving and then i came back to all of this family bullshit#and the place as well like it’s so. i don’t want to say isolated necessarily. but so much it’s own little bubble#and i spent the last eight or nine years i lived here depressed and the last six suicidal#and being back here feels like the actual place is telling me to die#and i don’t think it helps that every place i go i know or know of someone who successfully committed suicide#like. oh this person drowned themself here. or that person hung themself in these woods. or several people jumped off the side of this clif#like. it all feels like reminders of my failures. and it’s like. cmon. wouldn’t it be easy. all you need to do is jump. is slit your throat#is find a decent piece of rope. idk. but everything is so much and i just want it to stop and it feels like the ground itself#is giving me a way to do it.#i genuinely feel like i’m like 16 or 17 again. and everything that isn’t within these hills#feels like a haze and not actually real. like the concept of buxton doesn’t actually exist and my friends do not actually exist and nothing#actually exists except the place i’m in and my family and the pub#i think going back to work at the pub was a mistake; i think it’s making this worse. especially because it’s henry’s dad’s local#and where henry’s wake was. and nothing there has changed at all. it’s like the whole last year never happened.#and i only need to get through two more days but it feels like an impossible task and i keep thinking being back in york will fix me but id#if that even true like. i was suicidal before i left. and it’s going to be intense and stressful and then i have to leave again.#come back here and do three full weeks of this all over again. i haven’t even managed two yet this time around. and i feel like#such a failure and such a drain on my friends (and on one in particular) because it just#is so much and has been so long and everything is complicated and awful and i think if i hadn’t come back i’d be in a normal mental state#by now. that’s the worst fucking part. and also the whole thing of i know how to be suicidal here. i know how to not give a shit about#living here. i know how to do that. but ive never had to try before. like im trying to improve and im trying to hold on and hold off the#urges to kill myself or self harm or whatever because i said i would and because i KNOW it can be better than this and bc i love my friends#and they love me and i don’t want to upset them or make them anxious or anything like that and kat made me promise to try and im trying so#fucking hard and it feels like it’s not even worth the effort because it’s so much effort and everything is so overwhelming and awful and i#hate the way my family interacts and i just want everything to stop and idc if suicide is the cowards way out or selfish or whatever#bullshit people say it feels like the only option i can actually withstand because everything is so much pain and so much effort and so muc#everything and i can’t deal with it anymore. and also i forgot just how much i have to fucking mask in front of my parents and especially m#father and it’s so exhausting and i can’t sleep and there’s so much yelling and i just need it all to stop#i’ve had major breakdowns the last 3 nights about wanting to die so much & trying so hard to not let myself & idk how much longer i can tak
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i forget how stupid genshin was sometimes with making really really important lore and character things kept to limited events. so if you miss them bc you’re a newer player or just wasn’t playing at the time you just cannot experience them. like. what are you doing.
#mono’s stuff#watching a scaramouche video so like. the event he appears in is the main one i’m referencing#but like iirc wasn’t all of albedo’s REALLY important lore stuck to the christmas events?????? LIKE????? HELLO#like i can understand limiting weapons and shit to limited time events. not necessarily happy about it but i get ut#but??? you’re just gonna??? never let newer players see moments that were both really fun but also really important to your characters?????#IM STILL SO FUCKING UPSET I WASN’T THERE FOR THE FIRST LANTERN RITE ALSO. IM SO SAD
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i wish i could draw again. It’s strange to loose what i loved for my whole life
#sorry to complain about this a millionth time…. it’s odd#it’s a chore to me. for so very long now.. and i feel so deeply unsettled and upset by this.#Joy is found in enjoying things but this hasn’t been one of them in almost 2 years now. i’m still thinking that this is#because methods of sharing art are scattered now.#i don’t .. want to post in a discord server where it gets burried#i don’t want to post on twitter where i fight for it#or on tumblr where it’s hard to tag anything unique or self made#fur affinity is close to deviantart but it’s all artists looking for commissions ( very valid#but i miss the communication and comments ..)#deviantart is a joke and i hate insta/tiktok… ect…#maybe that’s it… no reason to draw in my mind cause no one will see it#sorry. i really don’t think my art is Bad necessarily and i appreciate evryone thats ever liked it!#but it’s just. hard#In General…?#speak#oh well… here’s to hoping
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there’s a certain flavor of conservative thought where people start to get mad about Accents Existing that i always find truly bizarre
#so-called english language purists living in the american midwest. like grow up#to be clear i don’t necessarily mean political conservative although there may be some correlation#i just mean like. people who are soo staunchly against the idea of language changing#and that expands to people saying things differently#i’m sorry i brought it up bc my coworker today started trying to drag people who say like. grossery and cyoupon#i’m still thinking about it tbh. why does that upset you so much lol#it’s also i feel like. very telling that she thought the Southern Affectations were cute#idk if it’s unique to michigan but i’ve encountered SO many people who like to cosplay as texans or tennesseeans#(i’m sorry idk if there’s a different word for that)#or like. another coworker making fun of another guy who is from hawaii and pronounces it differently than she does#my parents and i got it a bit when i was growing up too bc they’re from philly and i picked some of that up#like yknow. the way my name is pronounced lmao. it’s always wild the way people just don’t register or care that it’s said differently#i’ve given up caring bc i got made fun of enough as a kid. it’s whatever at this point like i guess it is just an accent#but i’m getting off topic lmao#mine
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Feeling INTENSELY jealous of my suitemate right now bc her parents are literally helping her look for flights to visit this boy she’s been talking to for a month while I can’t even tell my folks I’ll be crashing at home to see a show because I know it will be a Thing 😑
#I’ve truly just got to suck it up and stand my ground but I wiiiiish it didn’t have to be A Thing EVERY time I decide +#to do something Independent and Adult#piercing my septum dyeing my hair like neither of those got me in “”trouble”” bc I’m an adult n tbf they do more or less recognize that#but it’s a thing every time! They get upset they still emotionally hold me like I’m 16 so it’s jarring for them when I do stuff they don’t#necessarily like (for me) or agree with (for me). 🫥#I literally just want to spend one night at home after seeing a silly gay comedy show so I don’t have to drive back to school at 2am#I don’t wanna answer a million questions about it#also it’s my money 😭 guys I’m not asking you to book a flight for me PLEASE!!#💌
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i really do love being home for break but the problem is that i don’t love anything but being with my sister and friends . so when that isn’t happening it feels so meaningless i’m just sitting on the couch at my moms house in a town i hate feeling like shit and missing my apartment and city . also something i’m learning is that i am INCAPABLE of operating on somebody else’s time like it’s really bad . it’s not just me being a control freak tho ofc that’s part of it the issue is mostly just that i can’t stand now knowing exactly what’s going on and i can’t focus and it ruins my mood . and everybody else is like yay vacation !! break!! we don’t need to plan we can just do whatever :)) and i’m trying not to be the annoying anal person so i’m like haha yeah :) *internally pulling my hair out and screaming* i miss my life on my own i miss my structure i miss not having to answer to anybody else . like i really don’t bc it’s so lonely but at least it’s not stressful to the point of me feeling like i’m on a battlefield
#also knowing i’m just gonna have to leave everybody again really hurts#and living with that ticking clock makes me really wanna maximize every second and know exactly what’s going on even more#but nobody else feels that way . at least not the extent that i do#so i feel like i’m ruining the vibe a lot so i really try not to show how stressed ‘vacation mode’ makes me#but . sometimes i just can’t hide it esp from people who know me so well#and they know this and try to be accommodating but i feel like nobody really gets it#so it’s not necessarily anybody’s fault i just feel like i’m wired so differently and not made for this life#and i hate making other people feel bad bc i’m feeling bad . but i’m literally in a constant state of stress to varying degrees for 4 weeks#straight#and it’s badddd#and then i feel like shit bc i’m wasting my limited time being upset about nothing#and then i’m more upset and the thing is just a spiral . i hate myself sm sometiems#like i really just need to get OVER IT
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it's rare but yeah you can still get hate in ao3 unfortunately ☹️ most of them are very entitled readers who don't even write
ya it kinda just took me off guard but!! such is life and the comment itself still is lowkey confusing to me but we live 🫡
#anon#mail#it was j super weird to read that comment bc they were also upset i used gender neutral pronouns?#but the fic in question was like. not one that necessarily depended on the reader’s pronouns or whatever idk i’m tired rn#and i went back to read the fic and idk what they’re talking about so i’ve simply moved on i have more pressing things to worry about lol
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i’m gonna blow my brothers up with my brain
#personal#i’m planning my dads funeral and going over costs with my brothers since we’re all paying for it#and my brother was like hey this is depressing can we stop talking about it for a few days#and he amended that he meant the money aspect not necessarily the planning#but in the moment i have never been more insulted like#okay. so it’s too depressing to talk about but it’s fine to leave me alone to plan it and still care for dad#like i’m not trying to dictate his grief or pull the i have it worse card#but for gods sake have some fucking perspective#so i say okay and leave it at that bc i don’t want to yell at anyone#and he’s not not trying to come at you but#he’s like*#and i’m like i don’t want to be mean but the above i’ll stop talking about this but please keep some perspective#and they both got butt hurt about it#and it’s like i’m not upset about the money - although thank you guys for the taking care of that now#i don’t know if i’m speaking fucking french i’m only asking you guys keep some perspective#i got really upset and was like guys you’re barely involed as is. i’m not asking you to wipe his ass with me but just AHHHHH#and i even said i can’t dictate ur grief and my other eldest brother said something like#i don’t even know it was so not related to the convo i was lost but now i have no idea if he’s gonna visit dad#which at this point don’t care never see ur father again i don’t know man#and the other one got mad bc he’s been helping financially and emotionally with my mom so i apologized for that one#which is fair that was out of line a bit but also it’s like i say a mean comment you guys actively ignore me asking for support for months#like. still bad on my side but i’m very bitter and am going low contact after this
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Can you tell me what rodman did why some ppl hate her?
i keep forgetting what their reasons are exactly but i think i recall that apparently her boyfriend sucks, and maybe the nepo baby argument?
#idk anything about her bf and whilst I don’t necessarily agree women should be blamed for their boyfriends behaviours or acts#I can see the point that if you’re dating someone like that then it may also be a reflection of you because you (clearly) tolerate it#and don’t consider it enough of a dealbreaker to not be together#I don’t remember what (if anything) he did though or if theyre still together etc#I remember it being a lot of christen press fans who didn’t like her and they were upset when she apparently took over as NWSL highest paid?#but again I don’t really remember all of the reasons and I’m not really the go to person for any info about people’s like personal lives etc#because I mostly just don’t really care and I’m only really that interested in the sport side#(unless it’s like something really significant and directly impactful obviously)
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My parents got rid of my cat. I didn’t realize until I had settled in from my 6 hour drive here and started looking around for him. I knew it was a possibility and was too afraid of the answer to even ask. He wasn’t the most affectionate, or cleanest, or best behaved, but he was my boy.
When I moved out to another state he stayed behind with them and has been here for years with their many other cats. He never traveled for minutes well, let alone hundreds of miles. I just hate I didn’t really get to say goodbye to him, I didn’t know my last visit with him was just that. I know he could be difficult, that’s why I couldn’t manage to keep him myself. That’s why I figure I can’t cast too much judgement on my family for Whatever they did. Life lately has been hard back home for my brother and parents, and another stressor wasn’t needed and not worth everyone else’s mental health for the sake of me resting easy over a cat I can’t keep myself.
I adopted him in some of the ugliest turmoil of my life, even if he didn’t realize it. Even when I didn’t have a home, I had Beef and Beef had me. Sometimes he only made things harder, but as flawed as he and I both were, I still managed to love him. He was an icon, despite it all he was beloved by many, and he won’t be forgotten. They won’t acknowledge that he’s gone to me, nobody has even said his name, but I think it all goes better unspoken at this point. I can imagine him out there living his bestest beefiest happiest fattest life where he’s comfy and pampered.
It’s hard to pin down if the tears I’m shedding are those of a selfish child, wishing others put in work just to keep Me content with the Concept of a happy cat in my hometown with my name attached, lamenting the fact that I could be or have been That selfish child, pure grief and mourning for a pet that’s gone, remorse for what I couldn’t be or hadn’t been, fear of the nebulous unknown for him, frustration with the way it’s all been handled, or some infinitely more nuanced thing combining all of this and more. Maybe sadness is about as all encompassing as it gets for this. Consider this my Beef memorial post. I don’t know if he’s alive or dead, in the woods, in a shelter, or already in a new home with someone loving him just the way he is, but I like to imagine whatever it is is nice to him and he remembers me fondly sometimes.
#tldr-my parents got rid of my cat and I’m upset but also I don’t Really blame them#Aut talks#beef#it’s just sad#it’s a sad situation#I’m not necessarily mad it’s just heavy#we’re about to go on a big vacation together this whole week and I don’t want to weighing on me#so here’s a big ol vent to get it out#so it’s not all stuck inside me#tw animal loss#tw animal death#I don’t know it’s animal death but like if that kinda thing triggers you then this won’t make you feel great#vent post#sorry for the wack vibe you don’t have to read
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i got one of those fancy light alarms as a hand-me-down, and it’s really helping me fall asleep bc it dims over time! but now I’m consistently waking up with the sunrise
#the adas speak#which i’m not necessarily upset about. it’s interesting to me#humans are interesting
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While there is a good chance they just don’t see because I don’t reblog them, it is lowkey……. sad(?) that I dont get acknowledgement or thanks for majority of the analyses I do. I’d just like to know that the people who asked for things actually saw them and that the info is useful to them.
#rambles#let me clarify tho i am speaking purely about anons#NOT my mutuals#my mutuals always will get to things in their own time#i say sad(?) bc i’m not necessarily upset or bummed out i don’t get acknowledgement#maybe disappointed is a better word#manners are just lost in today’s society
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Casual
Pairing: bff!Eddie Munson x Reader Word Count: 12.3k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, protected sex (birth control), virginity loss, friends with benefits, Eddie talks you through it, constant consent, humor during sex, Eddie calls you "mama" but no mommy kink, fondling, slight hair pulling, oral (f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, a million different positions, slight edging?, L-bombs but not romantically, swearing... A/N: So I wrote this as a best friends with benefits thing and not a best friends to lovers, but the line gets blurry sometimes with besties. I really fucking loved this one because they're like...they literally never stop being besties, they're so fucking dumb, I love them. So yeah, this is platonic in the least platonic way possible, and I love that for them. Thank you so much and enjoy! A/N #2: While I was writing the first author's note, my typing kept popping my ears. *cries in adhd like a little bitch*
Eddie finds you in his bedroom doorway moments after hearing the front door close. He half expected Wayne to be coming back home early from work, but that didn’t make sense because he only left an hour ago and he probably would have called ahead.
But, no. You stand there with damp hair from a fresh shower and dressed down in some shirt you stole from his drawer and pajama pants. He raises a brow. He hadn’t been expecting you, but he isn’t surprised in the slightest. He doesn’t even bother to move from his spot, leaning back on his bed with an arm behind his head and a book in his hand.
“Hey, there,” he mumbles.
You stare at him for a while, saying absolutely nothing. You don’t seem particularly pleased. He stares back. Neither of you move.
“I’m upset,” you finally say, still staring, still standing.
If Eddie’s remembering correctly, you’re supposed to be out on a date. So hearing that you’re upset isn’t necessarily pleasing to him. Judging by the time, you should have had a very entertaining night. But apparently not.
He’s the first to move as he lets his book fall down to his lap. “Why?”
You think for a moment and then drop your stuff at his door, walking inside as you use your foot to close the door. There’s a long pause between speaking, as you use it to walk around his room and look at all of his stuff. “It’s sort of embarrassing.” You pick up a random pepper shaker on his desk, swirling it around and then turning on your heel to look at him.
He’s got his head tilted to his shoulder with a look on his face that reads “seriously?”. He sits up, lifting a brow. “I’ve seen and learned a lot about you since we became friends, so I doubt there’s anything you could do or say to embarrass yourself in front of me.”
You roll your eyes, licking your lips as you set the pepper shaker down again. “Okay, well…” you trail out, trying to decide how you want to tell him. “You know how I had that date?”
He puts his book away, crossing his legs and leaning back on his elbows. “The drive in?”
“The drive in.”
“What about it?”
“Well…” you sigh. “Okay, so…” You lick your bottom lip, trying to form the words. You’re never shy in front of him, so there must be something wrong. You chew on your lip, thinking to yourself with a heavy sigh. You plop down onto the bed next to him. “God, so, we got there and the movie was fine and whatever–” you roll your eyes, “–and we watched most of it but at some point, we started, like, kissing, and whatever, right?”
Eddie shrugs, laying back to stare at the ceiling as you continue to recount your night. “Yeah.”
“And it got a little…”
He raises a hand to prompt you, “Hot and heavy?”
“Yeah.” You look down at your lap where you fiddle with your fingers. “So we drove away somewhere more…more private?”
He looks at you, sitting back up enough to fully see your face as he smirks lightly. He gives you this devilish look that makes you want to hit him. “Did you...?”
You nod a little. “Yeah.”
Swallowing thickly, you watch his face shift as he takes in your demeanor. His head slumps to one side, his smirk falling off his face. “Oh…” he mumbles. “How do you feel?”
You stare at him. He can see you mulling over your response as you struggle to find the right words. Despite yourself, you feel a knot tying itself in your throat. You force it down and away, pretending it’s not there and hoping it’ll help. And it does…for now, at least.
“I’m upset.”
He cringes a little, lifting an arm to give you a place to lean into him. “That bad?”
You bury your face in his shoulder and pout. “Yeah.” You pull away suddenly. “I mean, I know everyone’s first time sucks ass and whatever, but, like…” You drop your head in your hands, wiping at your face as you find yourself glad for washing your makeup off earlier. “Eddie, I didn’t even…”
He almost seems offended. He doesn’t care about announcing it because you’re alone and also it’s outrageous. “You didn’t cum?”
“No!” you exclaim. “I…faked it.” You’re almost disgusted with yourself for it. It sort of just happened in the moment. He was clumsy in trying to get you there, but it wasn’t working. You just wanted to end it off and move on, so you just…made the sounds and the faces. He seemed pleased enough. “I feel kinda bad. I mean, he was sweet and all, and he, like… He tried, but…”
His question is crude with as little hesitation as humanly possible. Again, he doesn’t care about being awkward or guarded because you’re his best friend, and you’ve talked about worse, and there’s no filter with you. “How big was he?”
“Eddie, what?” Usually you wouldn’t mind his brashness, but you’re still trying to get over the events of a couple hours ago.
“Honest question,” he shrugs. “I just wanna know. Was he like…” he lifts his hand, squinting his eyes and hunching over and pinching his fingers together, “little?”
You shrug. His bluntness is rubbing off on you. You feel a little less awkward and you hunch a little less. “He was fine…just a little too…short? To reach?”
He makes a face, like he’s shocked and disgusted. He looks you up and down almost like it’s your dick. “That’s rough,” he says. “How many times did he cum?”
“Why do you assume he came?” you raise a brow.
He rolls his eyes with a scoff. “Please, guys always cum.”
You roll your own eyes and push yourself off the bed. You’re roaming his room again as you mess with all of his stuff. You open his drawer and ruffle through his unfolded clothes, you pick up empty beer cans and turn up your nose at the smell, you strum the strings of his acoustic. You do all of this instead of looking at him when you answer. “Twice.”
“Oh.” You fake disgust when he looks at you, smirking and bobbing his brows at you. “You must’ve been really fuckin’ nice.” He makes this weird growling sound, and the “ew” that comes out of you is guttural. He snorts happily, and then his humor is gone as he deadpans, “Or he’s a lightweight. Did he cum inside?”
You’re sick of him.
You shake your head. “I made him wrap it.”
“Aren’t you on the pill?”
“Yeah.” He hums.
He watches you lean back against his desk, looking at this weird mask he had just sitting among the chaos. You move it around in your hands and force down the heat in your throat at the recounting going on in your head. Swallowing it down is a hard task that ultimately fails as he watches you begin to choke on the unshed tears.
He sighs, his chest warm with a bitter emotion as he watches your waterline threaten to spill over. “Oh, c’mere.” He stands from the bed, opening his arms wide to pull you into a bone crushing hug. It’s warm and it hurts and it feels so nice. He smells like he always does, green apple shampoo stolen from your house and cheap cologne and cigarettes. It’s a nice smell.
“I guess I like…I don’t know, I expected a little more. It was…really disappointing.” A couple of tears manage to get past you, and it pisses you off but you’re already over it. “I wanted…to get rid of it, and now it’s gone but it doesn’t feel like anything’s changed, but it also feels like everything’s changed, but not in a good way.”
He rubs your back, listening to you as you need him to listen. “I’m sorry,” he mutters when you stop. He sets his chin atop your head after a kiss to your forehead. Part of him wants to square up with the dude you went out with, but he sets that urge to the side in order to comfort you. “That fuckin’ sucks, and you deserve so much more.”
After a moment, you pull away from him, wiping at your face with a huff. “It’s stupid.”
“S’not stupid.”
You don’t argue, you just throw yourself onto his bed, laying flat on your back with your arms and legs spread so wide that you take up nearly all the space left. Eddie watches you lay there with your eyes closed and your breath slowed. He thinks you’re really pretty, especially right now with you wearing his shirt. He almost hates himself for thinking to ask–
“Look, it might be…creepy and weird to ask and—Jesus, if I’m being creepy, I want you to fuckin’ punch me s hard as you can—but, shit, maybe I should shut up.”
His rambling is cut off by you, still lounging on his bed. You haven’t moved, your eyes are still closed. You don’t seem fazed at all by his awkwardness. “What are you about to ask me, Ed?”
He sighs, sitting next to you with his foot shoved underneath him. He sets his hand on your thigh. You still don’t move, used to his touchy-communication. “What happened tonight fuckin’ sucks–”
“You say ‘sucks’ a lot.”
“It’s a nice word.”
You peek at him through one opened eyes. “You’re weird.”
“Nevertheless–” You laugh. He watches your belly tense as you do it, rolling over to sit up and witness his fumbling with opened eyes. “As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted…”
You laugh again, and he’s happy he could do that for you, especially after your rough night. You’re happy you could ease his worries, because he was being awkward, and Eddie isn’t usually awkward with you, and you know he likes your stupid jokes.
He takes a breath and starts again. “What happened sucks, and—only if you want to—I would be willing—if you’re comfortable—to…fix it for you.”
You raise a confused brow, less confused and more vaguely unbelieving. “Fix it…for me?” you echo.
He shrugs. “I don’t like when you cry, and I want to make you feel better. I’m not a total expert on sex, but I think I know my way around it pretty well.” He puts his hands together like he’s going to pray and points them toward you. “If you want…I can help.”
You raise a brow and stifle the smirk threatening to grace your lips, ready to tease him in order to push down the flush of heat rushing through you. “You wanna fuck me.”
He raises his hands. “I want to fuck you if you want me to fuck you. To help. But I’d love to fuck you… if you want…me to fuck you.” There’s a pause. “Maybe.”
You look away, scratching your head in thought. “Since when have you wanted to fuck me?”
He smacks a hand down onto your thigh just to do it. “Babe, it’s always been on the table. All you had to do was ask.” Whore.
You roll your eyes for the millionth time. “You’re such a guy.”
He shrugs like he doesn’t care at all. “Like I said, guys always cum.”
You raise a brow at him, shoving his hand off your knee to stand again. You jab an accusatory finger into his chest. “Is that to insinuate that you’ve cum thinking about me?”
“I– Okay, I did not– Listen here, you little shit.”
You laugh out loud, still pointing at him to make fun. “I’m kidding!” He fake laughs, and you return the favor by tilting your head and questioning him further. “But have you?”
To avoid it being awkward, he just shrugs nonchalantly and answers the question. “A couple times.” It works, even though you flush at the answer.
“What? That is so weird!”
“That is not weird.” He hopes you ignore the way his cheeks turn pink, powering through it with more brashness and more jokes. “It is completely normal to think of your best friend when you’re cranking one out.”
You shake your head definitely. “No, it’s not.”
He challenges you. “Have you ever cum thinking about me?”
Without turning your head, you glance away from him. “I don’t think that makes it normal.”
“So you have, is what I’m hearing.” You turn to him quickly, raising a finger as you try to speak over his ad libbing. He thinks he’s really funny, and it’s gonna make you scream.
“Listen–”
“Listening.”
You huff, glancing away and then looking back at him. Well, not really him, but the ends of his hair over his shoulders. “Maybe once or twice…” you shrug, “Maybe even thrice, but that’s not–”
“You little freak!” He points his finger at you, his whole face wide with amusement.
“Hey– Be nice to me. Or I’ll cry. You don’t like it when I cry.” You pout to give him a preview. You’re sure you could summon more tears if you really need to…
“You’re evil,” he shakes his head, looking up at you with a huge grin.
You bob your brows. “Yes, I am.”
He surprises you. In the next moment, his arms are wrapped around your midsection, and your feet lift off the ground. He takes you in his hold and turns you until you’re being slammed into the bed. You laugh as you bounce, squirming around to push him off of you as he pins you under his weight. Both of you are giddy with the amusement, laughing at each other and playing along with the other’s fun.
When you open your eyes and the laughter dies down, you realize that he’s actually pinning you to the bed. It sobers you up almost immediately, and you realize that he’s really close. He could kiss you right now if he really wanted to. You notice the exact moment he realizes it, too.
You gulp and take a breath for courage. Your voice is small—awkward—but it’s okay because he’s your best friend. “You can…” you mumble. “You can help, if you want to help.”
His eyes glance at your lips, and then he raises both his brows as he looks back at you. “You want me to?”
You nod, trying not to hold your breath to avoid dulling the charged air between you. “Yes, I want you to.”
He tilts his head and the tips of his hair tickles your cheek. “Is it because I have you pinned?”
“It helps.”
Eddie backs off of you, sitting back on his bed to allow you to sit back up. You do, crossing your legs underneath you. He thinks for a moment, watching you as he does. There’s a long pause where the both of you contemplate something, unsure if the other has the same thing in mind.
“Before we do anything,” he breaks the silence carefully and articulately, and you can see the moment that all his seriosity has set in, “I need explicit permission. And you gotta let me know how you’re feeling. I don’t wanna do anything to make you uncomfortable.”
You listen intently, nodding along as he lays down the rules. “Okay,” you say.
He tilts his head toward you, looking up at you through his bangs. His brown eyes are so pretty. You’ve always thought so. They’re so warm and loving, just like him. It’s the reason you became his friend in the first place: because he’s warm and loving. “S0?” he prompts, snapping you out of your thoughts.
You take in a deep breath and smile, lifting a hand and slowly setting it on his own. “I want you to have sex with me, Eddie.”
He visibly shudders, and you think he’s a sucker. Technically, he is, but whatever. “Jesus,” he mutters, running his free hand through his hair. Then he smacks yours away, and your chuckle turns into a snort. He always knows how to make you comfortable. “Okay.”
You turn your body to face him, clearing your throat. “So… How do we…?”
“Okay, so…” He makes a “shoo” motion with his hands, so you get confused and raise a brow. You slowly and hesitantly lean back onto your elbows, staring at him with all the silent questions you can muster. He rolls his eyes. “No, get up. Sit over there, whore.”
You roll your eyes at him in return, moving to sit at the head of his bed with your legs crossed in front of you. Playfully, he rolls his eyes yet again and shakes his head at you like he’s disappointed. Eddie turns to lounge across the foot of the bed, propping himself up on his elbow. “First, I want you to walk me through everything he did.”
“Okay,” you mumble, thinking back to what happened in that car. “Well, he kissed me. We made out for a bit, and then he pulled me into his lap.” You only glance at him as you speak, but he’s so nice about it that you don’t feel so weird talking to him about being poorly fucked. “And he took off my shirt. He was, like, moving my hips and stuff.”
“Okay.” He listens so closely. His full attention is on you and only you, and it feels nice.
“Then he, uh, he played with my nipples. You motion vaguely to your chest.
“Did he use his mouth?” he questions gently.
“Mhm.”
He shakes his head then. He’s still gentle but his tone leaves no room for argument. “You gotta say yes or no, sweetheart, or I’m not touchin’ you.”
That’s fair enough. “Yes.”
“And it felt good?”
“Yes.” It almost sounds like a question, but he understands what you mean.
“Okay,” he gestures toward you. “What else did he do?”
You think for a moment. It’s already becoming a little fuzzy as your mind becomes distracted by the thought of Eddie, your sweet, idiot Eddie, doing these things to you and making it feel good.
This is the same boy you’ve seen fall out of his van because he tripped on the step and totally ate shit hitting the ground. This is the same boy you’ve seen stuffing his face with marshmallows because he was dared to by Mike and Dustin, and he was trying to prove that he could do more than they originally dared for him.
This is also the same boy you’ve seen absolutely shred his guitar with some fingering skills you’ve been envious of. And the same boy who’s seen you cry a million times and wiped away all the tears with plenty of jokes and compliments and threats of violence as were humanly possible. If there’s anyone who can make you feel good, it’s him.
You shake the thoughts away in order to get them straight. “He laid me down on the seat,” you remember, “and took off his pants and stuff.” You don’t really need the “and stuff” but it does make it a little easier…for some reason.
He furrows his brow in question, tilting his head like he’s grossed out all of a sudden. “Okay?”
“And then he…” you stare at his Dio poster across the room, “put it inside.”
He lifts his lip in disgust. He’s done that a lot tonight in response to this guy. “That’s it?” he asks with more distaste than you thought possible.
“What do you mean?” you furrow your own brow this time.
“Baby,” he says effortlessly, like he’s said it a million times before (because he has), “there wasn’t even foreplay.” He sits up, “No wonder you didn’t get off, girls need foreplay. Guys don’t need shit. We just think about tits, and we’re hard.” He shrugs, “I’m thinking about tits right now. Hard as a rock.”
The face you make transcends the rolling of the eyes or the upturn of a lip as you scoff. “Eddie–”
“You gotta be built up,” he continues, brushing past his comment like he never said it to begin with. You consider his words, taking them as the truth because he knows way more about sex than you would. He’s no prodigy, maybe, but you’re barely out of your virginity, so he’s got more advantage than you. “Did you blow him?”
You glance up, a bitter tone in your words as you mutter the first part, “Between positions… yeah.”
You don’t think “disgust” fits anymore. He’s just annoyed and entirely displeased. “You blew him, and he didn’t blow you?”
“I thought the term was ‘eat me out’.”
He shrugs a shoulder absently. “Symmetry.”
You airquote your response. “Okay, ‘symmetry’.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Yes,” you reply finally, still tasting traces of your toothpaste in your mouth. “I blew him, but he didn’t blow me.”
Eddie makes a guttural sound to try to properly express the amount of offense he takes to this. “You know what, fuck this guy.” He leans forward, placing both his hands on your knees and holding them there as he stares at you with those big, brown eyes of his. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I got you now.”
It’s easy to take humor from that to avoid dealing with the arousal it sends through you. “You’re real confident.”
He’s not pulling back on anything, he has no reason to. He somehow becomes more intense as he effortlessly response, “Because I’m gonna fuckin’ eat you out like my life depends on it.”
“I–” There’s no way you can respond to that. “Oh. Uhm.” Your mind is immediately a jumbled mess of fantasies and incoherent words and more fantasies. There’s a heat between your thighs and an anticipation in your belly that makes it difficult to think.
“Relax,” he catches your sudden daze. He pats your thigh like it’s just something that he does and not a preface to him pulling them apart and having a feast. “You’ll be fine.”
“Okay.”
He gets up, stretching his arms high over his head to pop his back. You can’t help the way your eyes fall to the slip of his belly, spying a tattoo hidden away there underneath his shirt. “I’m gonna go take a shower.” He eyes you. “You don’t need any infections.”
You turn your lip up because you think he’s disgusting. “That’s gross, Eddie.”
He points at you. “But considerate.”
You get up specifically to push him away from you. “Go shower, you dirty whore.”
He winks at you. “Yes, mama.” You don’t know how to respond to that. “Get comfy, I’ll be out in a bit.”
You swallow thickly, trying not to dissolve into some pathetic puddle because he called you “Mama”. You’ve never been into that before, and all of a sudden, you can’t get the sound of it out of your head. He’s already long gone, leaving you alone in his room as you sit on his bed to wait for him.
You’re a total goner, you’re sure.
~
You’re going through more of his stuff by the time he comes out of the shower. You glance over your shoulder at him after the door closes, and you’re almost surprised by what you find.
It’s not like you haven’t seen Eddie shirtless before. The sight isn’t unusual to you, but given the context and the way his sweatpants hang low on his waist, giving the perfect view of his gentle V-line, his soft tummy. It’s a mouthwatering sight, and it’s taking everything to look away.
His hair is still dripping. The dampness is giving his curls a gentle shine in the lamp light in the room. He rubs his towel haphazardly through his hair as he speaks. “I know I’m gonna take them off anyway, but–”
He stops short when he finally looks up to see you. You’re rummaging through his drawers like the little thief that you are, your hand stopped somewhere in the second drawer in favor of watching him. But that’s not what makes him pause. It’s the fact that you’re in one of his shirts, one that goes down past the curve of your ass and stops short before even reaching your mid-thigh. Your legs are bare—you’ve discarded all your other clothes somewhere in the room and left yourself in some underwear and his shirt.
He always knew you were sexy. As your closest friend, it’s his duty to know how sexy you are, but this is another level and he doesn’t understand why.
Instead of pointing out the fact that his sweatpants are growing a sudden bulge, he gestures to the shirt. “Are you gonna steal that?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He scratches the back of his neck, tossing his towel onto a chair stuffed in the corner of his room. It’s stacked high with clean laundry that he never got around to. He pays no mind to it when the towel and a couple of clothes fall to the floor immediately after.
Eddie takes a breath before he looks back at you. “C’mere,” he mumbles, raising a finger to make a come hither motion. You listen to him, walking over to stand in his space. Your hands rest at his sides because you always rest your hands at his sides, and, naturally, he holds you back.
“Remember,” he begins in a quiet voice (or as quiet as Eddie can be), “you gotta use your words. I gotta know if I’m hurting you, or I’m doing too much or too little.” His thumbs stroke your elbows. “You know your body better than anyone, but I’m gonna do my best to know it even more than that.”
You chuckle playfully. “Okay.”
“And you definitely, definitely have to let me know when I’m doing something right.”
“So you’ll keep doing it?” you guess.
He shakes his head and says in a flat voice, “No, to stroke my ego.”
You roll your eyes, and your humor is interrupted by his hand lifting to touch your cheek. You lean into it because his hands are warm. “You still wanna do this?” He’s completely serious, and a little nervous now as he looks at you.
You nod, raising one hand to wrap around the back of his neck. “I trust you, Eddie.”
He nods, mostly to himself. “Good. That’s good.” His tongue darts out to lick his lips. “That’s great,” he raises his brows. Then he sighs, glancing away from your intense gaze. “Let’s hope I don’t fall in love with you or something, or you’ll be getting your back blown out every night and twice on Sundays. Jesus H. Christ.”
You roll your eyes and shake your head at his ridiculousness, almost forgetting that he’s probably completely serious and you are about to fuck as you play into your banter. “You’re so–”
You don’t get to finish your sentence. You’re cut off by Eddie’s lips engulfing your own, warm and soft and really nice against your own. You let out a long breath, pulling him closer by the back of his neck as he takes a step forward into your space.
To be completely honest, you’ve kissed Eddie before. You’ve kissed him on a dare, you kissed him to trick people into thinking you’re dating. Hell—he was your first kiss because you and some friends were screwing around and then you happened to be picked to be locked in a closet for seven minutes because you were at a stupid party playing stupid games.
So the sensation isn’t completely new, but the making out part is. Eddie is a really good kisser.
When he pulls away, you aren’t really expecting it. He seems pleased by your daze as he bobs his brows. “So what?”
Instead of answering him, as you’ve forgotten what you were going to say, you kissed him again. It’s really nice, kissing someone. It’s nice to be this close, to breathe each other’s air, to taste each other’s lips. His tongue grazes your top lip, and you lean into it, because you trust him and it’s nice.
Eddie keeps you pulled close against his body as he starts stepping forward, keeping you from tripping as he does. The back of your knees hits the bed, and you hold on too tightly as you feel yourself falling backwards. You laugh when you fall back onto the bed with his weight on top of you. He laughs with you, “You’re okay, mama.”
He silences you with his mouth again, enjoying the feeling of your lips on his. He likes it just as much as you. Between that and his little pet name, your mind is swimming and your heart is racing. When he pulls away, it’s only to press his lips to the skin of your neck, suckling and nipping gently at the flesh as he does. You close your eyes, your fingers happily tangled in his hair as you keep him close.
“Mama,” you mutter under your breath, seeing just how much you like it as he nips at your neck. “I like that.”
You can feel him smiling against your skin. “Yeah? Want me to keep using it?”
You nod, “Yeah.” A hum echoes in your chest as he wraps his hands around your sides, lifting you a bit just to put you farther up the bed. He crawls on top of you, one of his knees settled between your legs as his hand caresses your side.
Your breath becomes thin when his hand smooths underneath his shirt, feeling the softness of your skin with a quiet breath. His palm stops at your belly as he slips the very tips of his fingers to rest underneath your breasts, feeling just how warm you are.
“Good?” he mutters, taking your earlobe so gently between his teeth and letting it go.
You nod, your eyes heavy like they’re glued down with sap. “Mhmm,” you breathe.
“Yes or no, mama?” he reminds you, gently kissing your lips.
“Yes.”
He smiles, rewarding you with another kiss as he whispers against your lips. “Good girl.”
You don’t have time to think about that right now. It’s too nice, too fuzzy. It sends a warm flush straight to the pit of your stomach and makes your breath hitch. Eddie knows and adds it to the list of things you like for tonight.
The slightest whimper slips from your lips when you feel his warm fingers reach up to brush your breast, gently groping you as he plays with your peaking nipples. He hikes your shirt all the way up until your bare chest is revealed to him, and he takes them in with an appreciative breath before leaning down to take one between his lips.
It’s much different than the guy before him. Eddie’s deliberate, licking and sucking and so, so gently nipping the bud. It sends a strange sensation through you, lighting every nerve ending and making it impossible to think straight as you keep your fingers tangled in his hair. You keep him close. It feels too good to do anything else.
You speak between breaths, your heavy eyelids and sticky lips working against your attempts to speak. “You’ve seriously cum to the thought of me?” you wonder, whimpering when his other hand comes up to pinch your other nipple between the pads of his fingers.
“Yeah,” he mutters, sucking harshly and making you gasp.
“Why?” you ask, making an attempt at playfulness between the haze of his ministrations. “Am I that irresistible?”
With only seriousness, Eddie looks up at you, letting his fingers take over in teasing you. “Yeah.”
Your grin falters, almost not expecting his answer—or at least the amount of honesty in it. “Wait, really? You’re not just buttering me up?”
He makes a face, a confused one that flatters you more than anything else. “No? You’re fucking sexy as shit.” He tilts his head, “You think I’m lying when I tell you that?” Eddie’s hand smooths down your side, gripping your hip as he goes.
You shake your head, bringing your knee up and sighing gently when his hand slides over the round of your ass. “You don’t have any weird feelings for me, do you?”
He pinches you, and you squirm away from him giddily. “Mama, I’m in love with you, but not like that.” He gently makes your side. “Now stop talking to me. It’s hard to kiss you if I’m talking.”
You chuckle. “Yes, si-”
Your words are interrupted by a tiny moan when his fingers graze the mound of your pussy through the thin fabric of your panties. Your back arches just slightly, the ticklish feeling making quick work of scouring your body.
“Does that feel good?” he wonders quietly.
You nod and bite down hard on your lip. The anticipation of it is eating you up. “Yes.”
“Good,” he lilts, continuing to brush his middle finger up and down the length of your panties until he’s pulling them to the side just enough to see you. Eddie licks his lips, leaning in to kiss your belly. You’re weak against him, trying not to cant your hips up into him and deter his work.
His finger caresses your folds through the bit of slick that had begun to gather there. “You feel the difference?” he asks between kisses.
“Yes.” Your voice is a squeak, and he seems quite proud of himself for making it that way.
“I’m gonna take these off, okay?” he says. “Then I’m going to put my mouth on you. You’ll let me know if I’m doing too much, right?”
You nod. “Yes, Eddie.”
He smiles, “Thanks, mama.” He feels the way you react to that, the slightest flutter of your folds. He sits up just to allow him the access to slip your underwear down your legs. The little, flimsy material comes right off. He drops it to the ground and comes to kneel in front of the bed. You hold your breath when his hands close around your waist, pulling you down to the edge to bring you that much closer to his face.
Instinctively, you close your thighs. It’s hard to will them to open and stay that way with the way his warm breath fans over your skin, his hands touch your body, his eyes stay glued to your own, constantly asking for consent.
You think he’s going to say something smart, smirk at you and chuckle at your shyness. But he does. Instead, he just gives you a calming look and asks, “You still okay, mama? You wanna stop?”
You let out a gentle breath, shaking your head. “No, I’m okay.” You chew on your bottom lip. “Just not used to this.”
“That’s okay,” he reassures. His kindness is honestly making your arousal worse. You feel like you’re going to start shaking if he pulls away from you. “Can I open your legs?”
You nod. “Please.”
He nods back, kissing your knee and smoothing his hands down your thighs, one on each side. The hand on the inside of your thigh dips so slowly between yours, seating deep between them until he’s slowly pulling them apart. The sound your thighs make when he opens them is lewd, it’s the quiet schlick sound that comes from the arousal that seeped out of you. You start to feel embarrassed, but then he sighs like he’s so relieved to see it.
“Tell me why you’re so fucking pretty,” he shakes his head. Your thighs are itching to close as you watch him lean in, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh, just to kiss you. You bite your lip, nervous and so ready.
But then he stands. “Give me a second,” he says, walking away from you as his hands slide off your thighs. You sit up higher on your elbows, watching in confusion and slight annoyance as he leaves you on the bed.
“Eddie,” you call while he walks to his dresser.
“Hang on,” he smiles. “Jesus.” He does that thing where his tongue sticks out over his bottom lip as he sorts through the junk on his desk. “Not leavin’. Just lookin’ for something,” he mutters.
You fall back on the bed, willing your heart to calm. He makes a sound of success, turning back on his heel to get back to you. You look at him and watch as he cards his fingers through his hair. He pulls it back into a ponytail, wrapping a hair tie around it to make a messy bun.
You flush at the sight because not even a moment later, he’s on his knees again right between yours. “You can’t be serious,” you say.
“Oh, I’m dead serious,” he replies, looking at you excitedly. His hands land on your thighs again, keeping them spread apart as he pulls you again to the very edge of the bed. “I’d say hold on tight, but there’s nothing to hold onto so… Enjoy!”
He dives between your thighs, and the heat of his mouth latches onto your pussy. Your mouth slips open and a deep moan rumbles out of you. Your thighs close around his head as you feel his tongue licking at you, lapping at your folds as he delves between them.
“Eddie,” you call, one of your hands reaching down to touch the top of his head, trying to find some purchase at his hair. His tongue swirls around your clit, and you’re a total goner when his lips close around it and suck. You mewl at the unfamiliar feeling, enjoying every bit of it with an immense amount of pleasure.
You’d expected him to go slow, hesitant little licks against your folds as he worries about overwhelming you. But this is not that. It’s hot and heavy with deep strokes of his tongue and the tiniest nips of his teeth. There’s no way to keep yourself calm. Your hips are tilting up into his mouth, meaning he has to hold you down with his arms wrapped around your thighs.
Eddie seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself. He moans into you, heavy breaths fanning over your skin as he eats you out “like his life depends on it”. Your open-mouthed moans encourage him, especially when you say his name in this high-pitched gasp and slam your eyes shut. Your ankles hook behind him, pulling him in closer.
Eddie’s making the most obscene sounds—sounds worse than what you’re making. He slurps and laps at you like a dog drinking water. You’d call him a whore again if you could think of humor at the moment, but the only thing you want to tell him is to keep going and never stop.
When he pulls his mouth off of you, you whine. He smiles, knowing he’s doing a good job as he shushes you gently. “It’s okay, I’m not stopping,” he says. In the next moment, you feel his hand cup your pussy. “I’m gonna put my fingers inside of you. Is that okay?”
You nod. “Please, Eddie.”
His fingers tease your entrance, though you don’t think he means to. He looks at you as he prods a finger at the seam of your cunt, slowly pushing it in until they part around him. A short “ah” sound is what he hears as he presses his finger inside of you, moving slowly until he’s got it all the way in. “Good?” he checks, the slightest thrusts moving in and out of you as he does.
Your nods are becoming insistent. “Yes, Eddie.”
“You want more, mama?”
“Yes, please.” He loves how polite you are. You’re usually so mean—though, he loves that about you, too. It just means you love him.
He sets a steady rhythm, one that’s still slow as he focuses in on your face, the way it shifts and squints at every little push of his thick finger. It feels really nice, the way he takes his time with you, making sure you feel everything he gives you.
“M’gonna add another. You ready?”
“Yeah.” He rewards you with a second finger, pushing it inside along the first and stretching you out for him some more. He thrusts them in and out, a slow and steady motion slowly building as he massages those inner parts of you. He curls them, and they press against a spongy point inside of you that has you rolling your eyes. “That feels good, Eddie. Don’t stop.”
He smiles at your initiative, giving you what you want with as much enthusiasm as you give in wanting it. He leans in, his tongue darting out to lick at your pussy. You’re wetting his fingers so nicely, making it so easy to slip them in and out of you.
His lips wrap around your clit, and he sucks on it while you whine, while his fingers curl inside of you with every intent of coaxing an orgasm out of you. Little ramblings fall from your tongue as you grind against his. He's greedy in the way he licks around his fingers, over your clit, tasting your arousal as it seeps out of you.
A knot is tightening in your belly. Your hips reach for him with each little nuance of his skilled fingers as you seek out the release he's promising you.
His name comes out as a moan on your tongue. If either of you hadn't been so preoccupied, he would have made fun of you for it. Instead, you're spread out on his bed with his fingers inside of you, a moment away from cumming on his mouth.
Your hips try to lift up into him as you get closer and closer. He holds you down with one arm, his lips and tongue and prodding fingers working in tandem to taste you.
Your ankles hook behind his head as your back arches off the bed. “Eddie,” you whisper. He feels the way your pussy clenches around his fingers, his tongue becoming more insistent in the way it flicks and laps at your clit.
He makes these sounds of encouragement, humming and mhm-ing into you as he goes. Your release is like a burst in your belly, it starts there and swarms into your legs, your chest, the base of your being. Eddie’s tongue keeps licking and lapping at you as your back arches off the bed and your legs tighten around his head. You moan his name as white noise erupts in your ears, the distant murmuring of his words muffled as you try to cope with the pleasure that has begun to set every nerve ending on a wild fritz.
Eddie seems more enthused than anything else by your orgasm. Both his arms wrap around your thighs and hold you down. He actually stands, bending at the way to get closer as he longs to taste all the slick and arousal that leaks out of you. As he sucks on your clit and hums at the way that you taste, you grip his hair and pull him in closer.
But there’s a point where you think you might die if he touches you any more. There’s a gasp in your chest that rips its way out as you push him away from your fluttering pussy as kindly as possible. He leans in again, just for a moment, before he registers your body pulling away from him, notices the way your thighs unclench and your fingers loosen from his hair and your moans and gasps of his name turn into weak whimpers and grunts.
“Fuck,” you huff as you lay back on his bed. You turn onto your belly, crawling up his bed and collapsing into his pillows that spell like him. He watches, licking his lips and wiping his face with a smile.
“I was right,” you mumble, feeling your body coming down like you're floating back to the ground.
“About what?” You feel the bed dip next to you where Eddie sits down. Then you feel him lay back, his head laid out on your thighs.
“You're a whore.”
He rolls his eyes, smacking your leg with the back of his hand. “You liked it.”
“Doesn't mean you're not a whore,” you say. “Just means you're a good one.”
He sits up, moving over you so he's caging you in. His hair has come mostly undone by now, and it's more of a mess due to your insistence on how wonderful he is. His guitar pick hangs down in your face. Your eyes cross and uncross trying to watch it dangle.
“Well, if I'm a whore,” he bends down, his soft lips pressing into your neck as your lashes flutter, “then I'm gonna charge you. It's three dollars a minute.”
You chuckle. “Well, guess what?” He hums. “I'm poor, so no.”
He breathes in through his teeth, shaking his head. “Then I guess you'll have to work it off.”
You try not to be too timid as you press your fingertips to his chest, guiding him back so he's sitting up. You move onto your knees, pulling your arms around his shoulders and relishing his hands on your waist.
“That shouldn't be too hard,” you mutter. You are timid when you lean into him, testing the air between you to make sure it's okay that you kiss him.
When you still haven't made any contact, he nudges your nose with his. “C’mon,” he goads, his lips sticky when he speaks with all the familiar affection between you.
Your lip quirks a bit at his humor. You kiss him, biting his top lip just to confuse him. He laughs and you consider your goal achieved. You run a hand down the center of his bare chest, pausing at the base of his belly to tease the light happy trail disappearing into his sweatpants.
You slip your hand just underneath the waistband of his pants, tickling his skin as your fingers brush the base of his length hiding poorly behind the fabric. He flinches slightly from your touch, chuckling lightly as his hand comes to cup your elbow.
“Did I hurt you?” you ask suddenly, slightly startled by his reaction.
He shakes his head. “No, mama. You just surprised me.”
“Okay,” you murmur, your timid fingers slowly attempting to try again. But he just shakes his head.
“This isn’t for me. This is for you,” he says, pulling back enough to see you.
“Yeah, but,” you lick your bottom lip, “I wanna make sure you’re enjoying yourself, too.”
He licks his own lips as if to remind you that they were just wrapped around your sensitive cunt. “Trust me, I am thoroughly enjoying myself, mama.”
Your finger hooks around the waistband of his sweatpants, a slight pout arising from your face. “Can you take ‘em off, at least?”
His hands are already pulling them down his legs as he teases you. “So needy.”
You roll your eyes. “Shut the fuck up.” Your response falls short. As soon as the last word leaves your mouth, his cock springs from its loose confines and reveals itself.
You flush at the sight of him. You’re not a cock-hungry whore or anything—but if you were one, you think his dick would be a perfect subject for it. It’s not like he has this perfect cock that was hand-crafted by the gods or anything. But you think it’s safe to say that calling Eddie a freak is a valid name.
He’s long, freakishly so. He’s got a nice girth to him, you think, but you don’t know if he’s going all the way in—but, of course, you could be exaggerating. You’ve seen two cocks in your entire life, and Eddie’s is one of them and, admittedly, the better of the two. He will definitely reach.
“What the fuck, Eddie?” you look up at him.
“What?” His face falls slightly, his eyes widening just a bit as he wonders if your comment was good or bad. “What’s wrong?”
“How the hell do you fit that thing in your pants?” You shake your head. “Like, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
He just shrugs, but he’s a little relieved that you’re just being his asshole and not just some asshole. “I think you’re being a little dramatic.”
“How is it supposed to fit inside of me? What is that, like a foot long?”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m flattered—really, I am—but it, most definitely, is not a foot.” He looks down at the erection between his legs. The tip is flushed, and it kind of looks like it hurts. “Seven and a half.”
“What the fuck?” you whisper under your breath. You reach down, brushing your fingers over the tip. He gasps through his teeth, and you watch the way it kicks up in response. “Sorry,” you tell him, ignoring the amusement in your chest. It reminds you of a spring, the comedic kind that goes “boing!”.
“S’okay,” he murmurs. He lifts a hand to your cheek, brushing his thumb over the rise of it as he asks gently and genuinely, “You still wanna go?”
You nod, “Yeah. That monster isn’t gonna scare me away.”
He rolls his eyes. “It’s not that big.”
You shrug. “You know, I heard Harrington’s like that big, nine inches.” You make a circle with your hand, moving it up and down like you’re jerking it off. “You think it’s true?” You bob your brows up and down.
He shakes his head, running a hand down his face as he snickers at you. “I doubt it. He could be one or the other, but both seem a little excessive. Have you seen how tight his pants are?”
“Yeah… you might be right.”
“We gonna talk about dicks, or are we gonna fuck?”
You sigh, shrugging like it’s nothing as you look back at him. “I guess, we’ll fuck.”
He smiles, pulling you closer to him. “Well, then, c’mon, mama.”
You actually giggle, surprising him as you bring a leg to wrap around his waist, pulling the other up to follow suit. He kisses you, his hands supporting your thighs as his dick nuzzles between the both of you, kept warm and wet by the way your folds sit against him as it pushes into his lower belly.
Eddie reaches between your bodies, taking his weeping cock in his hand and stroking himself a couple times with little wavers of breath. You watch some precum spill from his tip, sliding down the bottom.
“You want me to use a condom?” he asks.
You swallow thickly, thinking quickly before shaking your head. “Pill.”
He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t.”
You’re touched by his consideration but you don’t really want to put into words how much you actually want to feel him inside of you. You shake your head again, kissing him quickly to soften the slight awkwardness in your chest. “I don’t want you to use a condom, Eddie.” You almost whisper it, but he understands.
“Okay, mama,” he whispers back. He kisses you, lifting you up from his lap just enough to tuck the head of his cock at your soaked folds. “You ready?” You nod. “Don’t hold your breath. Breathing makes it feel better.” You nod again.
“Ready.”
You try not to hold his breath as he slowly lowers you down onto his lap, splitting you on his cock as you take him inch by inch. At one point, you’re sure he can’t go any further as you feel him seated somewhere deep inside you. And he’s right, it feels really nice.
Your breath is so light and airy when you sigh against his lips, holding him tight as you bury your face in his shoulder. “Fuck,” you huff, hearing his own breaths pass heavily in your ear.
“Fuck,” he echoes. “Jesus, you’re squeezin’ me, mama.”
You don’t know how you feel about the way this makes you feel, the way it makes you act. Your voice gets sort of whiny, breathy, this little thing in his ear that makes his cock twitch slightly inside of you. “Can’t help it,” you sigh. “So fuckin’ deep.”
He nods, his hands steady and firm at your backside and your arms tight around his neck. “I won’t move until you tell me to.”
You just nod, knowing he’s not going to move until you give him an explicit “yes”. It’s a lot to adjust to. He sits really deep inside of you, and he’s pressing against a spot that makes you delirious with just the pressure the head of his cock puts on it. But when you can’t take the suspense anymore and you’re too excited to see how it would feel, you nod again.
“I’m ready.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” he says. “I’ll go slow.”
You nod.
Holding your waist, Eddie begins to thrust his hips up into you. He does as he says and moves slowly, guiding your body in his lap so you grind down on him. A whine falls from your lips at the feeling, and you almost immediately seek out that pleasure with the eager roll of your hips into him.
“Not too fast, not too fast,” he hisses, lightly patting your hip.
You nod into his shoulder, feeling his hands roaming. His arm wraps around your waist, his other arm comes up to hook over your shoulder. He keeps thrusting, moving so slowly and filling you so deep. Following his commands, you roll your hips slowly into him, meeting each of his own movements in a building rhythm.
There's an ebb and flow in the way that you move together. Tiny whimpers fall from your lips, and his heavy breaths join them.
Somewhere along the way, it's not enough. Your insistent hips grind into him in search of more. He feels it in the way you breathe, the way you move, the way you hold him just a little tighter.
“Eddie,” you huff. “C’mon, I need more. Please.”
The way you say it is a little more whiny, a little needier than you intended. It feeds his ego, and he can't help but to lose some of his reassuring kindness. He starts making fun of you because he likes making fun of you, and he thinks that you'll probably eat that shit up.
“More?” His grip on you tightens just a bit. His thrusts become a little jerky, searching the same intensity you are. “You need more, mama?”
“Eddie,” you groan.
He pulls your face from his shoulder in order to look at you better. “You sound so whiny, baby. Like a little bitch.”
You roll your eyes because he's Eddie, and he calls you a little bitch anyway. Grinding in his lap, you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug. A strangled grunt comes out, and you smirk devilishly. “So do you.”
“Har, har,” he says.
“If this is all you can do, just tell me. It's okay if you're a one-pump-chump.”
You like vexing him. He likes when you vex him. But he also likes proving you wrong because he may be doing you a favor, but he can't let you go about thinking he can't fuck.
“Fuck you,” he scoffs. Then he's pushing you onto your back and wrapping your legs back around his waist, slipping out in the process. He towers over you like some wolf, bushy hair accommodating as his necklace swoops down to brush your skin.
“If you want me to stop, tell me to stop,” he says. “Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He guides himself back into you, embedding himself within you until you're full. One of his hands grips your hip while the other takes a hold of the headboard. It's this metal thing that squeaks whenever you move. So when he's thrusting into you with a vigor that has grown in the past couple of moments, it's accompanied by the constant whine of the metal. It's sort of funny.
His hips roll into you, waves of pleasure coming with each one. His hand cradles your neck, and you lean into him as he latches onto the sensitive skin of your throat, teeth scraping and tongue licking up the taste of your skin.
One of your legs comes up to wrap around his waist, and you moan as you pull him in deeper. His pace builds into this steady, needy kind of rhythm. The harder he thrusts, the more you clench, and the harder it is for him to stifle his grunts.
But you like the sounds he makes. Sometimes they're these deep groans that rumble in his chest like thunder. Sometimes they're these weak moans that you're pretty sure is him trying not to whimper. And you like the moans so much that you card your fingers through his hair and tug on a chunk of it as his head pulls back. His muscles flex, and his lips part. You watch his eyes flutter, this shocked whimper comes out of him.
“You did that on purpose,” his word and your moan mix together with the thrust of his hips.
“Ah…haha,” you gasp, nodding a little. “Yes, I—Oh, yes, I did.”
“What, are you a top or something?” he wonders, raising a brow.
You shrug, your mind a little blurry with the feeling of his cock shoved inside of you. “Dunno.”
He's interested enough to find out.
Once again, you're being moved around. You whimper when he pulls out of you just to sit you up again. Eddie moves to the head of the bed and pulls you back into his lap. “Let's find out.”
You take him in your hand, lining him up with your waiting lips. As you slowly sink back down onto him, your eyes flutter shut as you feel the way he fills you. And it only gets better from there as you slowly take him farther inside until he’s buried so deep that you can feel him pressing somewhere inside of you that you can’t quite pinpoint.
You’re fully seated on him now, eyes squeezed shut as you adjust to the feeling. Your hands come to rest on his chest, the fingers of your right hand brushing over the demon head on his pec. When you roll your hips and feel the way it presses inside of you, you’re immediately done for.
Your rhythm isn’t steady for a while. You move purely out of an urge to quell this need in the pit of your stomach. As you fuck yourself on his cock, Eddie’s hands hold your waist tightly just to have something to hold onto. You move quickly and without remorse, your head thrown back in pleasure as your hips lift up just to smack down on his lap once again.
For a while, you just grind on him, focusing on that deep spot that shoots electricity through your thighs. This pitiful sound flutters out of you, like a shudder running down your spine as your hands move to cup the back of his neck in your palms. His name falls from your lips with a plea, it’s a weak sound that would bring him to his knees if he wasn’t already on his back.
“Fuck, mama,” he huffs. “Keep going, just like that.”
His hands caress your skin, roaming your body underneath his shirt still draped over you. He hikes it up farther and farther until he feels your warm breasts. “Can I take this off?” he asks. You just nod, muttering an “mhm” as you keep bouncing with closed eyes. He pulls the shirt over your head, revealing your bouncing breasts to him as he takes a hold of them with greedy hands. He palms them, kneading them like he would dough. You just keep moaning as he builds you up.
You don’t mean to, but in an attempt to respond, the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a repetitive “yes, yes, yes” that echoes in the room alongside his own loud, open-mouthed breaths. “Shit, baby. Doin’ so good f’me.”
That makes you whimper, moving almost ruthlessly just to satisfy the rising need in your belly. “Fuck, I need cum, baby,” you whisper, repeating that again and again with each little roll. Eddie wastes no time in bringing his large hand to rest at the juncture of your thigh and your hip, his thumb swirling insistent circles into your clit. You gasp at the feeling, which is way more electric than you thought it’d be.
It becomes a little difficult to think. Visions of Eddie and his hands and your bodies, and the sounds of your slick and skin, and the smell of sex and body wash and cigarettes cloud your mind. You’re on the verge of tipping over the edge, you can feel your fingertips tingling with the wild sensations of your pleasure, so, so close to you now–
Eddie pulls you up from his lap, unsheathing your cunt from him. Your moans and your breaths are interrupted, and this weak cry tumbles from your tongue. He grunts, laying his head back and making this “hmph” sound.
You blindly reach for his cock, trying to guide him back inside of you before he’s lightly smacking your hand away. “Wait, mama, wait.”
“Eddie,” you whine, thoroughly unhappy with the way the growing waves in your belly had begun to retreat. “Please.” You could honestly cry. It had felt so good—you had felt so good, and he’d taken it all away in a matter of a second.
“What the fuck, dumbass?” you huff, looking at him with eyes unfocused with frustration and face flushed with lust.
“You’re so mean,” he says, almost as put off by the failed release as you.
“I was so close.”
“I know.” He sits up a little more, moving you off his lap. Your arousal is coating both of you, your thighs are sticky with it, his lap and his cock is glistening in the dim golden light. “That’s called edging.”
“I know what the fuck edging is. Why are we doing it?”
He laughs at your frustration, and you want to hit him. “Relax, we’re not done yet.”
“Well, hurry up,” you whine, already trying to throw your leg back over his legs. He just swats you away again.
“Turn around.” You would argue, but you’re too horny. So, instead, you turn around so your back is facing him. His hand spreads out along your back, and you nearly squeal when he pushes you down so your face is pushing into his covers. He pulls you up so your ass is in the air, grabbing one of your cheeks and squeezing.
“You still good?” He’s checking up, trying to be nice even though he was just the cruelest he could’ve been.
“Yes, please.” He likes you like this, honestly. It’s fun to see you so needy. It’s just something he can hold over your head.
He lightly smacks your ass, not enough to hurt but enough for your hips to jerk at the unexpected sensation. Immediately, he smoothes the skin with the palm of his hand and hums. He nudges your legs apart, spreading you open for him just enough as he pumps his cock in his hand.
“Just testing out some positions,” he says simply before he’s guiding himself back inside of you. It’s a welcome feeling, one you’re beginning to become accustomed to. Once he’s fully inside, he bottoms out with a heavy sigh. “It’s good to see which ones you like.”
“I like when I’m being fu–”
You’re cut off when his hips thrust into you, an almost cruel snap that makes this filthy smacking sound. You moan, literally feeling yourself melting into the bed as one of his hands comes to fist the sheets by your head. The other holds your waist tight, keeping you steady as he begins to fuck into you.
You really like this position. Being on top of him was so, so nice, but being underneath him is a feeling that makes your brain numb. You wrap your hand around his wrist as your other curls in the bedsheets, mewling feebly with every snap of his hips.
It’s dizzying, having him take you like this. There’s a light sheen of sweat coating your skin, encouraged by the warm air straying in through the slightly opened window. His breath is heavy, and you can hear him grunting every time his hips meet your ass. “Do you like this one?” he huffs, moving his hand to wrap lightly around your neck. He pulls you up from the covers so you can speak, your bodies bumping back and forth in the dance you’ve created.
You’re being kept steady only by your hand on the bed, gripping the sheets tightly. “Yes, Eddie,” you moan. You like saying his name, especially when you feel so good. It’s like a wave through your skin. It falls off your tongue with ease. “That feels good.”
He’s happy you’re happy. He keeps it up, losing his breath the longer he goes as your loud ones mix together in the heavy air of his bedroom.
You’re so glad Wayne isn’t home because there’s no way you would’ve been able to keep quiet. You respect that man too much to put him through this. The loud squealing of the bed certainly doesn’t help.
You turn your head to his arm, pressing your nose to his wrist to smell him. He smells like he always does, cigarettes and cheap cologne, like leather and maybe a bit of metal. But under that, you can still smell it. Green apple.
You kiss his wrist, and something snaps in him. For the hundredth time, Eddie pulls out of you and moves you back onto your back. Once again, you’re looking up at him as he locks you in. There’s a wild look in his eyes that makes you breathless, and when he’s pushing into you again, you moan.
“Right there,” you mutter incoherently when he fucks into you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer as you keep your legs spread wide. “Yes, fuck, right there.”
Eddie focuses on that spot, punching the head of his cock into it over and over again and watching the way your eyes roll, your head falling back into the sheets and your hands tightening around his arms. He loves the way your lips part, your soft lips split open by the feeling of him. He bends down and kisses the exposed expanse of your throat, sucking on the skin and nibbling hickeys into your skin.
When he pulls away from your neck with a light smack, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down so your bodies are pressed flat together, skin to skin. He ruts into you, pressing his forehead against yours as you both breathe the other’s air. It’s all heat and lust and something else, something hot and heavy.
“I needa cum, Eddie,” you mumble, “For real this time.” You manage to get it out with a minimal amount of stuttering. You’re surprised you were even able to put the sass in it that you managed. He’s made such a mess of you.
His thumb finds your clit once more, and he’s circling the bud with a fervent kind of eagerness. “Keep breathing for me, mama. Breathe in deep.” You do as he says, so much so that you get a little dizzy as the air comes and goes. You buck your hips up into his thumb, your whimper getting higher and higher with each swirl.
You feel a knot curling in your belly, followed by a startling heat. “Eddie,” it comes out almost as a question. You’re addicted to the way his name feels in your mouth. You repeat it over and over, squirming and breathing and tightening your hold on him. He keeps fucking into you, focusing on that spot that makes you see stars as he just thrusts faster until his hips are moving in short, hard spurts.
When the dam breaks, it's with a slack-jawed gasp and a tight embrace. Your whole body tenses, like a coil tightening. It gets hot and hotter and hottest until a band snaps and you're trembling. You moan his name like a cry for help, holding his face between your hands and marveling at the softness of his skin. A brilliant shudder makes its way through your body, the quivering of your limbs making it impossible not to whimper and whine at each little shake.
Eddie helps you through all of it, keeping his in and out pace until it becomes unsteady with the fluttering of your pussy around his cock. Your mouth latch onto one another, more heat and lust and longing to fill the space between you as you recover with a dizzying head and buzzing veins. Loud and sloppy smacks accompany the ones coming from your hips, still meeting with the last sparks of your orgasm and the drive for his own.
His steady thrusts are unsteady now, just tiny little pumps of his cock inside of you as his breaths build into gasps just as small. You’re already coming down from your high, and your whines are sounding a little different now as you tilt your head to the side and hold onto his arm, the punch of his cock bordering on an overstimulated feeling after trying to recover from the large crash of your orgasm.
“Eddie,” you whimper, one hand still splayed across his cheek.
He pulls out of you suddenly, peeling his hand off of you to grab his cock. He tugs harshly at it, bucking his hips into his hand until he’s spilling out over your belly in warm spurts, these shuddered moans coming with it. “Oh, fuck, mama,” he whimpers in that sticky tone, burying his face in the crook of your neck as the last ropes of cum coat your skin.
There are a few moments where there’s complete silence—save for the sound of a car here and there, or a dog barking in the distance, or some people laughing even farther away, or your heavy breaths huffing between you two. Your fingertips caress the skin of his cheeks, drawing patterns into his face as he simply enjoys it with closed eyes and settling breaths.
When Eddie sits up, he takes your hand to pull you up with him. You both sit on his bed, looking down at your bodies now sticky with his cum, though his isn’t the only fluid sticking to your skin. Your thighs make a wet sound whenever you move.
You run a hand down your face, sighing heavily. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter, popping your toes. Eddie watches you stretch your arms over your head, enjoying the way your tits look when you do.
“So I did good?”
You look back at him to see the way he watches you, his brows bouncing with a sly grin on his face. You roll your eyes, not looking at him as you chuckle. “Yes, Eddie, you did good.”
He smiles wide.
Eddie stands from the bed, and you watch the way he sort of limps from his room. You can’t help your grin at the sight. At least that means you did good, too.
Eddie returns with a wet cloth in his hands, which he uses to clean you up first, wiping away all of your slick and his cum and even some of the saliva from your neck left behind by his sloppy kisses. He takes care in the way he does it, paying such close attention to you to ensure you’re just as clean and comfortable as he wants you to be.
When he’s done with you, he wraps his hand gently around your throat and pulls you in for another kiss. You lean into it. His kiss is like air in your lungs, and you sigh gently. Then he disappears again and comes back clean (and still deliciously naked—you enjoy the sight of his chain link tattoo curling around his upper thigh). He rustles through his drawers, pulling out another shirt, this one clean and not somewhere on the floor.
“You’re staying over, right?” he asks, as casual as ever as if he hadn’t just cum all over your stomach.
And, just as casually, you nod and turn onto your stomach to stretch again. “Mhm.” He tosses the shirt at you. It lands on your head, and you don’t move to put it on just yet. He picks up his sweatpants from the floor and puts them back on.
Eddie nudges you to the side so he can pull the covers back, and that’s when you sit up to put on his shirt. You stand, padding across his tiny room to turn off the lamp on his dresser, shrouding the room in relative darkness. When you climb back into the bed, you latch yourself onto his back and hold him to your chest. He’s really warm, and it feels nice to be this close.
Sometimes you wonder if you and Eddie are supposed to date. There’s nothing casual about your friendship, and there never really has been (especially not now). But you think that having Eddie as your best friend, perhaps just under unconventional circumstances, is the best thing there is. If you ever decide to get together, that’ll be a moment for a time in the (relative) distance.
For now, you just rest your ear against his back and listen to his heartbeat. “Eddie,” you mumble, bringing your leg up to rest over his body like he isn’t bigger than you.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
There’s a huff that you think is him chuckling. He pulls a hand up and pats yours a couple light times. “Anytime, mama.” There’s some silence. “I love you.”
You smile. You love your best friend Eddie.
“I love you, too. G’night.” He hums back at you.
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hiya jadey! A hotchner!reader x spencer request for you <3 Maybe Spencer comes home a little tense/snappy from a case and reader misinterprets it as anger towards her so she starts clesning and catering to what she thinks Spencer needs so he isn’t angry at her anymore? (even thought he never was.)
She sort of regresses into what she did when her adoptive parents weren’t pleased with her :(
love you love you love you superstar!
i love u <3 | fem, 1k
cw past emotional abuse
The door to Spencer’s apartment closes with a distinct clunk. Certainly shut too hard.
It sends a horrible feeling deep into the very pit of your stomach. Like you could cry, then and there. You frown at the odd feeling and stand to shake it off.
Spencer’s home.
“Hey,” you say, calling without seeing him, making your way into the living room from his kitchen to find him at the door.
His bag looks heavier than usual on a slouched shoulder, his hair puffy. He must’ve showered before they flew back into Virginia and air-dried his short curls. He drops his bag on the floor, scrubbing his face, nose and eyes screwed up tightly as his glasses push up to his forehead.
“You okay?” you ask.
His face flickers. “Fine.”
It’s not the greeting you’d wanted. Maybe you’re egotistical or something but you’d at least expected a hug. He’s the one who invited you over, surely he wants to see you?
The queasy feeling worsens.
You give him a little kiss on the cheek to test the waters. “Missed you.”
“Yeah, I missed you too.”
You aren’t convinced. Spencer rubs his face again, trudging to the couch to lay down.
You send yourself into a tailspin. Looking around the apartment, you can see why he’s unhappy. You left your cup on the coffee table, your handbag on the armrest, there’s so much to clean up and put away.
His silence means you did something wrong.
He asked you to be there. He left you the key. But maybe he didn’t really want you there after all.
When you were younger, you’d get home from school, and a half hour later your father’s car would park in the driveway. You’d get this feeling, then, a tenseness, not necessarily fear but anticipation. Some days it wouldn’t matter, and most days he’d come through the door like a animal to be coaxed into softness. You’d convince him to be angry at something else. Enable his fury, agree with every word he said.
Smiling, calmed, he’d walk into a spotless kitchen and find a pan soaking in the sink. I just wish you’d have some fucking consideration, he’d say. Or, Really? Or he’d sigh like he couldn’t believe it and slam a cabinet door.
Nothing was right. You weren’t worth any patience.
“Dove?”
You peek around the doorway again, your tidying having taken you to the kitchen to wash your cup. “Yeah?” you say.
“What are you doing?”
“Just– just cleaning up.”
“It’s fine. It’s clean, don’t worry about it.” He frowns at you. “Are you okay?”
“‘Course.”
His frown deepens. Spencer only ever frowns when he’s confused. When he’s upset he tends to press his lips together in an accidental pout, and when he’s angry, he’s stony. Spencer’s good at profiling because it’s his job. You learned it at home. Seeing anger in things most of all.
“I’m fine. Are you okay?” you ask, wiping your hands on your shirt. “Sorry, I should’ve asked how the case was. It was tough, right? It– I mean, they’re all tough.” You smile as you sit on the couch beside him, one leg tucked underneath you.
He shakes his head. “I’ve missed something. I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“You’re not acting like yourself.”
“Sorry.” You wince. “I thought you were having a bad day?”
“I am. Or, I was.”
Spencer holds out his hand. When you take it, he pulls you toward him with the care of someone who knows what it’s like to be startled, shuffling toward one another to be knee to knee. He holds your arm like it’s all of you, pressing you to his chest.
For a while, you just sit there. Quiet, almost silent, the apartment rests around you. Spencer frowns at your hand as he draws lines up and down your arm, but slowly his frown softens, and you realise your stress has faded with it. Spencer isn’t angry. And if he were, it’s not with you.
“Sorry I shut the door hard when I came in,” he says.
You feel caught. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. Today was really bad, I got into it with Emily and the case… I don’t know. But coming home to you…”
Spencer curls your fingers over his hand and presses them to the underside of his chin.
“Thank you for coming over,” he says. “Did you eat?”
You can’t help smiling, turning your hand slowly to cup his cheek, to hold him still. “I was waiting for you.”
“Well, you decide and I’ll go pick it up.”
“I can’t come with you?”
“Do you want to?” He turns into your touch, glasses pushed against his eye, his lashes on the lense.
You take back your hand. “Sure.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, we’ll walk. It’ll be nice, the weather’s not too bad.”
“You feel okay?” he asks.
“Worried about me?”
“What your brother might do to me,” he says, nodding into the joke. Then he cracks just as quickly and tugs you in to hug you sideways. “Worried about how I made you feel.”
It wasn’t Spencer’s fault, but you don’t want to talk about it anymore. You push up taller than him to encircle his head and neck, pressing your nose into the soft crop of his hair. He squeezes the small of your back with similar gusto. “Got my wires crossed,” you mumble.
”Want me to uncross them?”
You say, Please, and Spencer pushes you away from him to put your arms firmly on the right sides of you, uncrossing you, and kissing you on the nose.
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