#but sometimes he just wants to punch him in the face
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Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby
Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie
⚠️18+: angst, jealousy, possessiveness, eddie being a jerk, smut
wc: 10.6k
A/N: Sorry for the lack of update, i am not proud of this chapter BUT its the beginning of the angst loves. not proud of how i portrayed words here but its okay its fine, thank u @andvys for proofreading it ❤️
Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!
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CHAPTER 20
He wiped his forehead for the seventh time in the past five minutes.
The heat inside his shop was being a little suffocating now that the spring completely rolled over. It was humid and everything just felt too sticky. Every tool he grabbed almost slipped out of his hands thanks to the grease and sweat. He looked around to see Jeff in the same situation, working shirtless over a mustang’s open hood.
“I am going to get the AC fixed, I didn’t think the heat would come so quickly Jeff.” Eddie sighed, feeling a bit horrible with himself for making his friend work with these conditions. Jeff only chuckled, shaking his head, grabbing the rag from the back pocket of his jeans and wiping his hands with it.
“Not your fault, Eds. You can’t control the weather… but yes, please, fix this.” He pointed at the high ceiling where the ventilation system was located. Eddie groaned and nodded, getting up from the stool he was sitting on, flexing his body and deciding to discard his shirt that was drenched in sweat from working hunched over for over an hour.
He stretched his neck all around as he tightened the bun in his head. He sometimes wanted to chop all of his hair off when it was work and heat coming together. The hair stuck to his face and it felt so wrong, and the amount of times he has to wash it in the spring and summer is insane… but no. He would never chop his beautiful mane, as he calls it, away just because of some temporary distress.
He heard Jeff start coughing loudly, and Eddie turned around to see his friend looking wide eyed at him, his own fist punching his sternum while Eddie stood completely baffled, not knowing what happened to his friend.
“The fuck happened–”
“Holy fucking shit, your back! Were you attacked by a fucking animal or something man!?” And Eddie was confused for just one more second until– Oh.
He felt a twitch in his pants as he realized what marks he was talking about. The nail scratches all over his back, on his biceps, on his chest… The bite marks and hickeys that lingered on his collarbone and some on his thighs that he couldn’t see thanks to his jeans. They were so intense that they popped out just like his tattoos. Eddie cleared his throat as he grabbed the rag behind his back pocket, a smirk displaying on his features as he started to clean the sweat off his chest a bit with it.
“Uh, sure, you can call it that.” Jeff whistled as his eyes stared wide eyed at his friend.
“Well fuck… I’ve never seen you marked up like this. She’s good GOOD, isn’t she?” And Eddie’s mind wandered back to two days ago, how the two of you were driving back from Jonathan’s bar and you had a few more drinks than he had, making you bold and confident. You had rubbed your hand all over him through the whole ride to your house, making him lose his self control minute by minute.
You had leaned over at red lights, kissed his neck, bit his shoulder that made him hiss, and when you two finally arrived at your home, the moment you closed the door, you slammed him against it and dropped to your knees. You controlled the night. He was stunned and just purely amazed by you. Every encounter was something new and– you two couldn’t keep your hands off eachother.
Out of the seven days of the week, you two fucked four or even five. A month passed since you two started this new agreement, and he never in his life felt this much desire towards someone. He assumes it’s because of your capability to do things his other hookups had yet to match. It must be it.
“She is… excellent. The best I’ve ever fucking had, Jeff.” His friend whistles again at that, pointing at Eddie’s back with a proud chuckle.
“I can see that. I’ve never in my life seen those marks on you.”
“I’m not one to let himself be marked easily.” And it was the truth, and Jeff tilted his head, squinting his eyes, a playful smile appearing on his lips as Eddie frowned. “What?”
“I think someone is falling a little deeper than he should~” He groaned loudly at Jeff’s words, rolling his eyes, pushing away the fact his stomach did some turn at them.
“No, I am not. I just get too lost in it and forget to tell her not to.” Eddie retorts, crossing his arms over his chest as Jeff raises an accusatory eyebrow at him.
“Right. So this is just fucking then? Just a little hook-up every now and then?” He asks with a cheeky tone behind his voice, making Eddie squint and push his friend on the arm, making Jeff laugh.
“What else?”
“She the only one?” At that Eddie stopped in his tracks, his eyes getting a bit lost at the question because– you were. For some reason, he couldn’t be with anyone else, and he had hovered over the messaging button on past girls' Instagrams… But he always went back to your chat.
He never did exclusivity. It was too intimate, too private, and the last thing he wanted was to make things complicated. He didn’t want them to be complicated with you, and if they did become that way, things might end, and he doesn’t want them to end, not this soon. But you two are just having sex, yet the idea of someone else touching you was making him clench his fists tightly every now and then.
He wondered if you felt that same kind of worry or passing thought with him. Wondered if he was sleeping with other girls, if he talked to others. This is just because of who he is, no more than that. He ignores the fact this hasn’t happened with any of his past hook-ups, better to be oblivious than think too much over it.
“Um–” As he opened his mouth to talk, not really knowing if he was going to tell the truth or deny it, the small garage door opened, the one made for employees, and Steve walked in with three bags of food in his hand. Eddie sighed with relief, feeling saved by a god or something and Jeff rolled his eyes, but immediately put the rag away as his mouth salivated when he saw Steve walking towards them with food.
“Hello there ladies– HOLY SHIT!” Steve jumped a bit as he saw Eddie’s body and– fuck.
“I had the same fucking reaction Steve.” Jeff commented, chuckling as he saw Eddie’s glare towards him before turning back to talk to Steve who was checking him out with his jaw dropped and a frown in his eyebrows.
“Yeah, I’m having sex, where’s the shock in that?” But Steve’s eyes were still roaming him from head to toe, never having seen Eddie in this state.
“Oh nothing, is your partner a fucking bear?” Jeff snorted, making Eddie glare at him with everything in him.
“I asked the same shit man… But no, it is in fact a woman.” With that, Jeff grabs one of the food bags from Steve’s hands as Eddie rips one in anger, making Steve whistle just like Jeff had done minutes before.
“Does the woman identify as wolverine or some shit?” Steve finally laughed, but Eddie could sense the curiosity in his friend as a frown was still etched in his eyebrows. He was a bit nervous at the prospect of Steve interrogating him, but he could play it off as one of the many hookups he had. But– The problem was, Steve knows all about them. This is the first time he saw Eddie this way, all marked, bitten, completely ravished.
“I am just that good Steve. Want to try?” He jokingly asked and Steve scoffed, shaking his head as Jeff chuckled, closing the hood of the car and sitting on it, opening the bag on his lap. Eddie’s nose scrunched up, snapping his fingers at his friend. “Not in the client’s car.” “It’s going to get washed and polished either way.” Jeff retorted and Eddie rolled his eyes, not wanting to acknowledge that Steve’s eyes were still on him. He turned to his brown-haired friend, trying to gulp down the nerves.
“Thanks for bringing the food man.” He peeked inside the bag, mouth salivating as he saw the pastrami sandwich Jonathan makes at his bar. It’s delicious, one of Eddie’s favorites.
“Don’t mention it… Eddie–” Suddenly, the door opened once again and his eyes widened, heart stopping for a second. Soft heel sounds were heard and echoed through the whole shop, rustles of bags and– oh, fuck.
The moment the three men came into view, you stopped in your tracks.
Eddie could see the emotions running all over your body, your face frozen as you saw Steve staring at you, confused by your sudden presence, but Jeff wasn’t. He was used to you being here, not knowing what had been happening between you and Eddie. Eddie disguised it as you coming in to ask about your car, not to arrange when and where the two of you would fuck after work. Not at all.
“I– Hi.” Your voice was small and Eddie almost winced at it. His eyes roamed your body as you got closer, and it felt like his body turned a switch and something ignited inside of him. It was automatic. Every time he saw you, it was as if there was this predatory trait in him, something in you making him go feral, primal.
You were wearing that stupid ass office attire he dreamed of staining with his fluids mixed with yours, of maybe ripping a button or two. That grey skirt, grey blazer with that turquoise blouse peeking from inside, and those low heels that for some reason make him go insane. His eyes then fell to the three bags in your hand, his face trying to conceal a wince as he realized you had the same idea Steve had.
Your eyes were fixated on him, slowly roamed over his exposed body and arms, and he saw how your breathing hitched, how it lost its pace for a second, how your eyes darkened and your lips trembled slightly. He wanted to smile victoriously, but he would give himself away if he did… but as soon as that lustful look on your eyes appeared, he sensed the panic. Steve saw your marks. Jeff saw your marks.
“More food, fuck yeah.” Jeff interrupted and your eyes went towards him and then glanced at Eddie once, and– a sinking feeling came to his stomach. He didn’t like that look in your eyes. He saw how you turned to face Jeff once again, and you fucking smiled sweetly at him.
Oh, fuck no.
“Y-Yeah! I just… thought you guys might be hungry and I know all the work you guys have lately so–” And Eddie felt his jaw tense up. Steve though… his eyes were going between you and Jeff, and he was trying to conceal a smile.
“Well, Stevie here had the same idea.” Eddie’s voice was low, rough, and he had to force his mouth open to talk because if he hadn’t he would have spoken through his teeth. Your eyes went towards him and then all over his body. You had the nerve to scrunch your face in disgust, an eyebrow going up in question.
“Did you fall into a lion enclosure at the local zoo or what?” At that, Jeff and Steve snorted, looking away momentarily from the two of you. Eddie’s eyes were now on you, and he felt like he wanted to bend you over and show these two what he could do to you. Your mouth is being really brave right now when he can turn you into a stupid mess in the matter of seconds.
But he also understood how you two had to act. He understood what your idea was and you were being smart… Still, he glared at you, and he saw how you shivered underneath his gaze. His jaw clenched once before he gave a forced smile, a warning towards you.
“These just means I do a good job.” His eyes turn to Jeff. “You can’t say the same, huh?”
Your eyes widened as well as Steve’s. Jeff turned to look at Eddie, a frown appearing on his eyebrows in confusion at his friend’s anger towards him. He was about to open his mouth but Steve suddenly stepped in between, a fake smile on his lips as he looked at Eddie.
“Eds, let’s go to the office, I wanna talk to you about something.” Eddie saw how Steve gave a quick pointed look towards Jeff and yourself and– He wanted to punch someone. Why did you have to go and tell people you were fucking Jeff? Why not a random guy? Even if you were right, and they have bought into the idea that Eddie was yours and Jeff’s wingman, he did not see this confrontation coming.
“Y-Yeah! You two go talk, I’ll keep Jeff company!” Your voice was high-pitched and sweet, and with the act of being excited and Eddie wanted to choke you. Steve was buying your whole show and Jeff was plainly confused. Your eyes were on his brown ones and you gave a raise of eyebrows as if telling him to go with Steve, to follow your lead.
He sighed and nodded, but his blood temperature elevated when he saw Steve turn around and wink at you and Jeff before turning with Eddie and heading up to his office. It’s just an act. It’s something that was going to happen sooner or later. But now, Jeff will have to know, won’t he? There’s no way of covering that one up. His heart was hammering in his chest and it’s just this stupid sense of possession he has over you and–
He opened his office door, and walked inside to drop the bag on his desk, sitting on his chair with a huff, rubbing his hand over his face as Steve closed the door behind him, a smile still on his stupid face.
“Well, I think that our little lady is smitten.” He felt annoyed at those words as he walked over to his mini fridge, opening it to take two bottles of coke out, while Steve put the food bags on his table, already opening them to reveal the pastrami sandwiches he had gotten with fries. He let out the breath he was holding in his stomach, feeling it growl in hunger and the scent of food filled his nostrils, making him sit down immediately.
“What makes you say that?” He asked, intrigued even if irritated because… if he thought that of Jeff, then it meant that you would appear like that with him. You didn’t bring food or visit Jeff in particular. You came to do those things with him. Steve shrugged, sitting down on the seat in front of his desk, across from Eddie, as he started opening his sandwich.
“Coming to the shop just because?” That wasn’t a good enough reason for you to be smitten, wasn't it?
“It really doesn’t mean anything. She came to the shop before, many times.” Steve frowned at Eddie’s words, taking a fry into his mouth.
“Just to bring in food?” Fuck.
“Uh, yeah. We became good friends.” He hoped his voice didn’t give him away, though, it wasn’t entirely a lie. You didn’t show up just because, but this wasn’t the first time you brought food with you. Even if you came to the shop because of your car before, the having lunch together part is not entirely new.
“And it still baffles me.”
“Aw, you afraid she will take your place?” Eddie snickered and his best friend rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his sandwich as Eddie opened his own, licking his lips in anticipation as his stomach growled.
“As if. Does she know what I know?” Steve asked and Eddie stopped midway on taking his first bite. He closed his mouth and cleared his throat, a small shake of his head.
“No.” And just like that, Steve scoffed in victory and Eddie took his first big bite, moaning as he closed his eyes in delight. They kept eating for a minute in pure silence, and Eddie was grateful for that until Steve decided to be a fucking menace.
“So… Who is she?” “Huh?” Steve pointed to his shoulder blades with a fry pinched in between his fingers.
“Leopard girl. Wolverine. I don’t know, whoever the fuck it is.” Steve ate the fry and Eddie thought he wasn’t going to question it at all but he knew he was wrong in that. Eddie took another bite of his sandwich, taking his time to chew so he could think of something, making Steve roll his eyes at the theatrics.
“Um– Just… A friend of a client of mine.” He lied, trying to make this person as unknown as possible to make it seem like the actual woman he was fucking was not a few steps away from them.
“Explain?” “She came to fix her car after her friend recommended us to her.” Eddie took another bite of his sandwich as he felt the nerves making his heart beat into his chest, and he could hear the pumping of his own blood rushing in his ears as he saw how Steve was looking at him.
“And is she like… a recurrent hookup?” And Eddie pondered that question because… he just had to lie about who he was fucking, didn’t he? “Oh yeah. Not letting her go any time soon Steve.” And it felt good to tell someone about it. To tell someone about you without really saying it was you. Steve smiled as he leaned forward, putting his crossed arms on the desk as he gave Eddie his full attention.
“Well, I never thought I’d hear that from you.” Steve’s face was one of shock and amusement as he looked at his best friend. Eddie noticed, yet, nodded slowly as he took the last bite of his sandwich. His mind suddenly filled with your encounters, never more than a fuck, never less than just that.
“She… I– I enjoy sex with her. I enjoy it very much, Steve. For the first time ever I feel entirely satisfied with someone.” Eddie wasn’t looking into his friend’s eyes, just picking into his fries as his mind was elsewhere. Steve’s eyes were wide, staring at Eddie in shock, amusement, and some worry etched within.
“That’s certainly something I never heard from you, Eds… What makes her different from the rest?” Eddie took a fry into his mouth as he thought, a wave of something he doesn’t know how to identify rushing over him as your face popped up in his head.
“I mean, we started as friends, you know… Just messaging eachother, and then one day it just happened… She–” He felt his cheeks flush completely and Steve’s face was one of understanding, looking down at Eddie’s fidgeting fingers.
“Not the usual… size troubles, I assume?” And Eddie slowly shook his head, making Steve even more intrigued. He got nervous for his best friend, his thumb going to his mouth to bite onto the edge of it as he thought. Eddie’s eyes found Steve’s gaze moved somewhere else, making him frown.
“What is it?” “I mean, Eds… You sound kind of serious with this girl.”
What? “Huh? No. I assure you, it’s nothing serious, Steve. We–” Did he? Did he sound serious about you? No, absolutely no. He has never sounded serious about anyone before. It just sounds like it because it is the first time he has been with the same hook up for so long.
“You never talk to me about your affairs. I mean, sure you told me about some chicks you slept with, but they were always complaints… This one is–”
And Eddie realized he had never talked about a single good moment he had with a woman before with Steve. He had them, he sure has, but never in the extent he had them with you. You felt like nothing ever before, and that didn’t make you serious, it just made you– special. Just that.
“I know, but I promise you, it’s nothing like that. It’s just sex.” He felt his words choking him up slightly, but he cleared his throat, trying to take the lump he got away. Steve’s eyes found his and then went down towards Eddie’s body.
“It’s just… you letting her do that means you aren’t sleeping with anyone else but her, isn’t it?” Oh he got busted. Eddie bit his bottom lip as he felt his stomach closing in on him, not knowing why Steve was making a big deal out of him sleeping with just one person.
“Am I that promiscuous?” He tried to play it off as a joke, but his best friend sighed, shaking his head.
“Eddie, I never heard you talk about a woman before, much less see you only sleeping with one and just one. Are you two exclusive?”
“What?” “Are you exclusive to eachother?” And that conversation was something that never happened between the two of you again. He hadn’t slept with anyone but you, he never told you it, and probably never will, but it was because he was satisfied with you. You met his needs and that was the deal of it… but he wondered if it was the same for you. He wondered if you slept with others but him. He wondered if he was the only one.
But no. Exclusivity means that the relationship is heading to a more serious tone and Eddie does not want that. You surely don’t want that. He won’t talk about this to you anytime soon, yet, answering the question to Steve felt like he was being punctured by needles in the tip of his tongue.
“No. We are not.” That tasted like piss in his fucking mouth. Why? You two are not exclusive, and probably never will be. That tasted even worse in his mind.
“It’s just– You gotta tell her if–”
“We are not exclusive and we will never be a couple. Drop it, Steve.” At his sharp words, Steve’s eyebrows met in the middle in a frown.
“That’s because you avoid it! Eddie, I’m sure someone out there doesn’t care about your condition! This is the first time I hear you talk about a girl this way and you are letting her go–”
“I am not letting her go! I have no one to let go of because we are just fucking, Harrington! Fucking! I’m so sorry I don’t have the perfect love story you and Johnny had, or Nance and Robin. Hell, even Argyle and Eden!” He was angry now, he didn’t want to be but talking about this matter just made him become infuriated at his friend. Why did he make such a big deal out of this? Why question him about his decisions?
“Perfect!? I had to endure watching Johnny flirt for about a year until he decided we were more than friends with benefits.” And Eddie remembered that distinctively. Steve crying on his shoulder after he saw Jonathan flirt with someone… even with you. After the night they met you, and Jonathan asked you out, he went to his home with Robin, consoling him. Another reason for his stupid hatred towards you when you didn’t know Steve at the time. You didn’t know Steve was in love with Jonathan, much less they were sleeping together.
Eddie’s jaw clenched as he looked away, trying to avoid his best friend’s gaze. He knew all of his friends had their hardships with their relationships, but it didn’t mean his would be more than just a fuck buddy system thing. It doesn't mean that you two will become a couple. He can’t do that. He knows a relationship with him means that it will meet an impending doom at one point or the other. He was meant to fail.
“It’s not going to turn serious. It can’t.” Eddie’s voice was small, and Steve’s demeanor softened, a low sigh escaping him as he looked at his best friend with a pitiful look in his eyes.
“You are insufferable. You know that?” Eddie chuckled and looked up to see Steve smiling at him.
“You told me once or twice.” Steve nodded once as he started throwing all the wrappings into one of the food bags he brought.
“You think they’re fucking? Should I stay a bit longer up here?” “Huh?” Eddie was confused until Steve smirked and nodded towards the door. The long-haired man wanted to crack his neck from the sudden annoyance that washed over him.
“No, Jeff knows that he should not do that at work. I’d have to fire him.” Eddie said as he got up from his chair, his heart beating in his chest with something he couldn’t pinpoint what. It was a feeling of nervousness, or of anticipation, or worry as he got closer to the door. He heard Steve getting up to follow him as he opened the door and–
He stopped.
You giggled as your hand rubbed Jeff’s cheek while he sat on the hood of the car he fixed. You were in between his legs, his hands were on your waist and to your hips as you two giggled with eachother, intimately. Steve stood next to Eddie, smirking, looking down at how you looked radiant once again after a few months of not doing so after your break up. As if remembering what Eddie had told him, he cleared his throat loudly.
Jeff’s eyes looked up the stairs, wincing as he ripped his hands away from you, making you gasp as you pulled away, acting ashamed as you looked down at the floor and fixed your blazer. Steve elbowed Eddie a few times before starting to head down, not noticing the state his best friend was in.
Eddie’s chest was rumbling.
He was seeing red. He wanted to rip Jeff’s head off and then claim you in front of him, even in front of Steve. He wanted nothing more than to show off how dumb he could get you. How sweaty and how desperate you looked when you were underneath him. It was something he hadn’t anticipated and the fact was, he didn’t know if it’s a plan or not from you and Jeff. He knows it is, but his brain, his very own self is making him think Jeff is taking you from him.
But this was the reality he was in. He couldn’t do what he wanted to do with you, not in front of them. They didn’t know you two were an item. He has to remind himself of that part, of that little detail in order not to lose you. If he fucks up, and you decide to cut everything off, he doesn’t know how he could cope with the need you fill. The need you satisfy, and for now, it is you only.
He slowly walked down the stairs while Jeff smirked your way and then looked around as if shy, only making him get angrier, but he has to fucking calm down. He started feeling how his palms started sweating the more you did googly eyes at his friend, and Steve was eating that shit up. He heard Steve clear his throat as Eddie stood next to him, his eyes never leaving your face.
“I think I’m leaving now. I’m supposing you’re… staying a bit longer?” His question was directed your way, which you fidgeted in your place, looking at Eddie for one second, and he knew you felt his anger, or his displeasure. He knew you felt it because he saw how you straightened up for a second, to then realize you were looking his way too much, and then you turned towards Jeff.
“Um… If the boss lets me.” You said innocently, this time, your eyes still glued to Jeff, who then looked at Eddie. The metalhead’s hands clenched as his glare was directed to his friend now.
“I was about to have lunch anyways… right?” Jeff asked and Eddie wanted to rip his head off. But you weren’t leaving. No. He had to talk with you privately about this stupid show you just did. So, Eddie faked a grin, nodding at his friend and then turned to you. Your eyes were worried as you looked at him.
“Of course, Peach can stay.” He felt a pat on his shoulder as if saying ‘Good job’. He didn’t turn to face Steve, his eyes still glued on yours, the fake grin still plastered on his lips.
“Well, I gotta go help Jon so… I’ll talk to you guys later, okay?” His best friend bid his goodbye and he knew he winked at you because your eyes followed Steve, and you rolled your eyes at him as he left. The moment the door closed, Eddie’s grin fell, his jaw clenching tightly as your eyes found his, filled with nerves and uncertainty.
“I um…–”
“I knew you two were fucking, jesus fucking christ.” Your eyes widened, and you turned your head to look at Jeff but Eddie’s anger elevated yet it also calmed down slightly, knowing that Jeff knew about you two made you now untouchable, at least to his friend.
“You told him?” Eddie asked and your eyes found him again and now they were angry as your jaw clenched. He tilted his head in question only to then hear laughter from his friend. Eddie sighed as he ran a hand over his face, knowing he was the one who fucked up.
“I didn’t. You just fucking did.” Your voice was coming through gritted teeth and Eddie glared down at you, and he felt a hand on his right shoulder. He turned to look at it, and seeing Jeff’s hand made him remember how it was on your waist minutes before. He licked into his bottom lip, turning to look at his friend.
“She didn’t, but I had my suspicions when she told me to act as if we were hooking up just now.” Jeff talked, sitting back on the hood of the car as he opened his bag of food. Eddie’s nostrils flared as he heard you sigh, making him look back at you.
“We had to do this sooner or later… or at least I had to. It was going to happen at one point that everyone would be in the same room–”
“So this means, that if we are in the same room with everyone else, you two will act all lovey-dovey like just now?” His words seemed to take you aback because your eyebrows met in the middle as you looked at him as if he had gone insane.
“Well, not lovey-dovey, but we gotta pretend Eddie.” Your words were sharp, while you crossed your arms over your damned chest, making his eyes gaze at it then back at your eyes, and then at his friend who sighed as he unwrapped his sandwich.
“Look, I can help, but– I have a relationship too, and it’s becoming serious and I don’t want it fucked over because of this.” Jeff clarified and that made you sigh, making Eddie look back at you as he felt his belly burn in the pits of hell for some reason.
“I promise it– I don’t know for how long but… it’s just so no one gets suspicious if we are at the same place and they don’t see us interacting at all…” Eddie rolled his eyes as he held back a displeased groan. He did not like those words coming out of your mouth. It sounded as if you were already putting an end to you both, and while his head started reeling, he failed to notice how his friend was looking at him.
“Well… Why not let them know? It’s… just fucking right?” Jeff’s words made Eddie’s head snap towards him, and their eyes locked for a second before you interrupted.
“Yeah but… it might cause issues in the group, just– It’s better this way.” You replied and Eddie’s jaw clenched tightly as he looked at the floor. Jeff shifted in the hood of the car, a smirk appearing on his face as he turned towards you.
“Then, it will be a pleasure to be your fake fuck buddy for as long as you need, sweet thing.”
“Can you go have lunch somewhere else, Jeff?”
Eddie’s voice was sharp, rough, and filled with something that sent the other two people in the room shivers down their whole bodies, goosebumps pricking on their skin. Your eyes were locked on Eddie, and he knew you sensed something was going on. His fists were clenched as he kept his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes still directed towards the floor.
“I still have work–”
“I will finish it, take the rest of the day off.”
“But–”
“I’m your boss, do as I fucking say.”
Silence.
Jeff slowly got off the hood of the car, and Eddie saw how he gave you one last look. Your eyes followed Jeff’s figure as he grabbed his things that were on the desk near the front door. Eddie cracked his neck as he heard the door finally shut, leaving the two of you alone in the shop. Your neck turned quickly, eyes filled with fire as you frowned in complete confusion and worry.
“Why did you treat him like that? He–” He didn’t even let you finish. He turned around and walked towards the stairs, going up towards his office and he knew you were going to follow. He would have smirked when he heard your soft heels against the stairs if it weren’t for the fact he felt himself as if he wanted to rip a wall open with his own fists. He walked towards his mini fridge, taking two beers out as he heard the door of his office close.
“Here.” He put a beer on the desk as he popped the other one open with his bare teeth, taking a gulp out of it. The coldness of it not helping at all with the burning in his stomach, the heat all over his body.
“I have to head back to work, I can’t fucking drink– What the hell was that down there!?” Your voice was loud, now knowing the two of you were alone. His gaze fell on you, eyes scanning you from head to toe. That fucking office outfit–
“Don’t do that shit in my shop.” Your mouth fell in a big O, in complete disbelief and he knows he sounds crazy. He knows he sounds… weird, but he can’t help it. He really can’t help himself.
“I had to think fast! If I didn’t appear close to Jeff then Steve would grow suspicious! In his head, and Robin’s, and in everyone else’s, Jeff and I have been fucking for the past month and YOU were our wingman.” Oh, he took a long sip of his beer at that, because rationally, it made sense. Rationally, it was a good plan because Steve left content and, probably, with the intention of telling Robin about it, who will tell Nancy, and so on. It was a good plan.
But it doesn’t mean he liked it just because it's good.
“Did you think of Jeff’s relationship at all?” He was using something else to disguise his anger, and it was pitiful, it was pathetic, but what is he supposed to tell you? That he wants to scrub away Jeff’s hand prints off your waist? For what reason? With what motive other than his possessiveness?
“He said it was okay! His girlfriend is not part of your job group or ours, so we are fine!”
“And what about a club, huh? What if Steve decided to start inviting Jeff over for our outings? He thinks you are smitten, like romantically involved with Jeff.” You fell silent at that. He felt his heart beating in his chest, his ears ringing with something he could not fully describe. There was this feeling of hope, or need inside of him that he could not figure out what it was.
“Smitten? I– Why would I appear smitten?” It seemed his words got to you, because you walked towards the desk to grab the beer he left there, and you popped it open by smashing it against the edge of his desk, followed by a big gulp. The room grew tense, he felt it. He saw your body language, the nerves that suddenly invaded you, and he wondered if it was because of the situation, or rather something else.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because instead of doing some flirty googly eyes, you were smiling at him, caressing his cheek like a lovesick idiot, while he held your waist?” His voice was sharp, the edge of it as sharp as an ancient katana. He saw how thrown aback you looked, how confused that made you and he wanted to just erase that frown, wanting to replace it with your mouth in the shape of an ‘o’ as your eyes teared up thanks to him.
“It– It wasn’t that big of a deal! I thought it was a convincing action and the hand on my waist was not premeditated.” At your words, Eddie’s eyes widened a bit, his jaw clenching tightly as he realized it was Jeff’s fucking improvisation. He touched you, and not because you told him to.
And how many were there like that? How many were like Jeff when he didn’t see you? When he didn’t meet you? How many were touching your waist, your thighs, your arms, your face, when he told you he was too busy? Or when you two simply didn’t contact eachother for that sole reason? Does he have a right to ask?
But why the fuck does he care?
He has all the right to do the same. He shouldn’t be bothered by this but– He blames who he is. He blames this stupid thing he has to live with because if not, he cannot explain what is happening or why he feels this way. So possessive of you, so protective and like he wants to eat you whole the entire time you two are together, even if it’s just minutes.
Yet the present was something he was focusing on, and that was, his friend is taking all the merit for what Eddie does to you. He didn’t like that. Not one bit. He knows you told Robin because the girl always joked about inviting Jeff to the get togethers, making you and him have a panicked exchange of looks, only for Robin to always laugh it off, that she would never overstep over your boundaries like that. Not when you weren’t ready.
But ready for what? He never got an answer.
“Yeah, good job tho! Your little act worked.” His voice was dripping with disgust, no sarcasm because it was the truth. Steve had bought into your show, and Eddie should be happy, glad and relieved it did… yet he started thinking that maybe it would not be so bad to tell the group about the two of you. You two are adults. They also fucked with eachother before becoming romantically involved–
Ah, he sees why he cannot tell the group. He sees why the two of you are hidden. The others didn’t hide it because they liked one another, romantically, and the sole purpose was to, in the end, get together. That was not the end with you. That would never be the end with you.
“And who did you tell Steve you’re fucking, huh?” You asked with a roll of your eyes, taking a sip of your bottle, to then wave it towards his naked torso. He almost forgot he was not wearing a shirt still, looking down at his chest, the marks of your nails still there as well as on his stomach.
“A friend of a client. A random non-existent person.” He replied with a flare of his nostrils and his eye clashed with yours, a scoff leaving your lips, shaking your head at him.
“Don’t start this shit again. It wasn’t the smartest decision when it came out of my mouth, but it was for this whole month our ticket to leave with one another without raising any suspicions! If it were a random person, why the fuck would you take me to their house all the time?” You took a long sip of your beer and Eddie’s fists clenched as his chest started burning, rumbling, like a fucking earthquake.
“Another client of mine.” He suggested, his eyes moving from your neck to the first buttons of your blouse. You didn’t notice him, still drinking your beer as you chuckled with almost no humor in your voice.
“Right, as if that weren’t suspicious at fucking all. What’s your problem, Munson?” You asked him, and he wondered if telling you would be wise, but tell you what exactly? He took a few steps towards you, seeing how your body stiffened as you stared at him, waiting for a response.
“I don’t have a problem. It’s just… Jeff being the one to take the credit for how fucking dumb you get when I fuck into you it’s almost funny.” Your mouth fell open at his words, huffing at him as you put the beer on top of the mini fridge, crossing your arms over your chest as you faced him.
“Me? Dumb? Should I remind you Munson who whimpered stupidly just because he got his balls sucked on?” You were playing a very dangerous game with him right now. This was not going to end in civil terms. Your perfume was invading him, your smell, just you. You were contaminating his entire space and he was growing a little dizzy thanks to it. His jaw clenched as he took another step your way, his gaze hard as you stood your ground.
“Baby, someone who gets drool and tears running down their face as she gets fucked into a mattress, should not play this game.” He could fucking feel you. He knew how much you wanted him right now, how aroused you were. He saw you shift in your place as you scanned his body, a cocky grin appearing in your face as you looked up at him.
“No one knows that… But you, everyone, will now know what I do to you, without them knowing it was me.” His jaw clenched as he felt the tip of your fingers running over your nail scratches, your bites on his shoulders, your hickies on his collarbone. Steve saw it all, and Eddie confessed to feeling incredible with you. Steve will tell Robin and Jonathan.
“Yes. They will think that a random chick did this. Not you.” Your smile fell at his words, and he knew he hit your ego, but he was not ready for your response. He was not ready for the turn of events against him.
“And whatever you do to me, they will think Jeff did it. Not you.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He felt his arms shaking. He felt fire just running through his entire system and he didn’t know how to take it, how to tame it, or what it meant. This is not normal, yet he knows it isn’t new. His teeth clenched against eachother, and all he wanted now… all he needed… is to fucking show you that no matter what you say, it was still him. Everything was done by him. Every single thing you felt was thanks to him.
“You know Peach… I always liked this attire of yours.” He mentioned, putting the beer on top of the mini-fridge as he walked towards you, your head tilting to the side as if you were stupid when he knew you weren’t.
“What does that mean?” And he walked behind you, his left hand grazing your shoulder to then slowly wrap it around your neck, not even pressing into it, and he dipped his head low to whisper in your right ear.
“That I’ve always wanted to lift that skirt up and fuck into you until you forgot about work altogether.” He heard your breath stuttering, a small gasp leaving your lips as you felt him press his body against your back, his voice hoarse into your eardrum. “Think about it, a quick fuck before you leave…”
“Y-You’re crazy if you think I will let you ruin my suit.” You turned your head to look at him as he held you close, his head over your shoulder to look down at you. Your pupils were dilated, probably as much as his were. Your words died in your tongue completely as he saw you made no move to get away from his grasp.
And a smirk was displayed on his lips.
Not even ten minutes later, you two were in the same position, standing next to his desk, but your legs were spread, your panties down to your mid-thighs as your tube skirt was unzipped and pulled up, bunching up over your hips. His hands were grabbing onto your bent elbows for leverage as his knees were slightly bent in order to reach you. In order to be able to rail into you the way he was doing.
His pants and boxers bunched up on his feet, the open foil of a condom right next to them on the floor. Your head was thrown backwards as the sound of skin slapping over and over filled his entire office. He looked down to see his cock going in and out of your wet cunt, all the way, and almost all the way out. Repeating that motion in quick movements, deliberated.
You were on your tippy toes, with your heels still on, in order to lift your ass to him as much as you could, arching your back so he had more access. He looked at how you jiggled against his movements, your moans coming out of your mouth with no restraint, knowing the two of you were completely alone now… or at least he hoped Steve didn’t decide to come back for something.
But for some reason, he would love that. He would love it for Steve to know it was never Jeff. For Steve to know just how good you two make eachother feel. For Steve to know that it’s you the one who marked him up. For Steve to know, and to tell everyone, that your disheveled hair, and the marks on your body, the ones he will surely leave now, were made by him.
He kept pounding into you, his grip on your arms tightening, his knuckles turning white as he groaned when he felt you fluttering all around him, just like you always did. Everytime he hit your g-spot, you fluttered. That’s how he knew he found it. And well, there’s also your moans–
“Eddie– Eddie– fuck!” He smirked in victory as he angled himself and pulled you into him, keeping himself seated against you after each hard thrust. Deep and brutal, knocking the breath out of your lungs, choking on your voice. He growled each time he felt his tip just hitting you in your deepest parts. The warmth all around him. The sound of your whimpers and cries in his ears.
“Yeah, keep screaming my name, Peach.” He began to roughly fuck into you again, using you like a fucktoy, but that’s just because– His eyes diverted towards your waist, the image of Jeff’s hands on there, making him groan in anger, not wanting to think about that now. He is fucking into you, not touching you lightly just like Jeff did. He wins in this equation, doesn’t he?
He could hear the squelching of your juices with his thrusts, and he could feel the wetness all over his pelvis, his pubic hair, proof of how you were feeling with him, how you always felt with him and him only.
But his eyes fucking went to your waist again.
He growled as he pulled out of you, making your knees tremble, your feet hitting the ground again and he noticed how weak your legs were. You whined in question, wondering why he stopped filling you the way he was. He made you turn around and take two steps back, slowly moving his feet with his pants and boxers still tangled around his ankles, trying not to trip on these two steps in order to follow you.
He gripped your waist, his fingers burning, hoping that they somehow would brand their digits there and create a barrier so that no one– Fuck, no. No. He lifted you up on the desk, taking your panties off completely, and he threw them over his shoulder as he spread your legs so he could nestle between them.
You were breathing heavily, your blouse open, chest out with your bralette showing. Your blazer was still on, still buttoned, and it was just fucking delectable. You were holding yourself up with your hands behind you and on the desk. His face immediately leaned forward, capturing your lips in a strong kiss. He hadn’t kissed you since you entered his shop.
It was something he couldn’t really go without in the night or in every encounter you two had. He had stolen kisses from you in Steve and Robin’s kitchen. You had trapped him in Nancy’s apartment and kissed him senselessly. He had pulled you out of view in the club and under some stairs in order to rub himself against you, kiss you stupid, before letting you return to everyone and keep dancing.
You couldn’t not kiss eachother every time you saw one another.
You moaned into the kiss, his hands going to hold your neck, both of them wrapping around it, his fingers overlapping onto one another in the back of your head, his thumbs hooked underneath your jaw. His tongue instantly invaded your mouth, a place that was its second home by now. If not in his mouth, it was in yours, dancing with your tongue, making a mess out of eachother.
He went blind with it, thrusting his hips forward and luck was on his side when in two movements where the tip of his cock kissed your clit twice, the third time it caught on your slicked entrance. He huffed a laugh into the kiss with satisfaction as his hips pressed on, his dick disappearing once more inside of you. You stopped kissing him, yet you didn’t separate from him as you moaned into the kiss.
He moaned your name into your mouth followed by a curse as he felt you engulf him once more. It will always be a new sensation, never fully sitting with him how he is going to go on without it once you decide to put an end to it, or in the crazy event, for him to be the one to do it.
He pulled away from the kiss, his hand moving to press onto your chest, pushing you just slightly for you to get the hint. You let yourself fall backwards, glad that there was nothing on the desk that could be in the way, and if there were a few papers of clients underneath you, so what? He has the copies in a computer.
He grabbed the back of your right knee, giving a kiss on your calf as he pulled your leg on his shoulder. He repeated the process with your other leg and his hands grabbed onto your waist, his fingertips digging into your skin as if he were holding onto you afraid you would slip away from him. But it was because he wanted to mark you there. Particularly there.
He immediately started railing into you once again, the coil in his belly turning as he saw your mouth falling open, those eyes filling with tears of pleasure as his name tumbles out of your lips like a prayer. You bounced against his thrusts, the sight of your disheveled office attire making his mind short circuit as he felt himself burn. The outfit he wanted to ruin from the very first moment he realized he wanted to rip it off from you. He hoped you couldn’t put it back as perfect as it was before. He wished for people in your office to notice you were just fucked by someone. He wished people knew you were fucked stupid by him, only him.
“Look at you… yeah, I’m the only one that can make you feel like this Peach.” He said it with confidence because he knew he was. He has to be. If he weren’t you would have gotten tired of him by now, right? But he wanted you to say it, no, he needed you to say it. He needed you to admit he is the only one. “Say it.”
“Mhmm–” You couldn’t even pronounce a word from what he could see, but he was going to make you talk. He growled as he started to pull you to him each time he thrusted back into you, making his movements go deeper, and making them punch the air and soul out of you. His cock twitched inside of you at each tiny gasp you let out thanks to what he was doing to you.
“Come on, use words. I know you are a little cock drunk right now, but I’m sure you can manage this– Fuck–” He cursed when he felt your pussy fluttering and clenching around him, and that never gets old for him. All tight around the base, making him see stars. You were close, he was close, but he needed this. “Peach, I’m not letting you cum until–”
“You! Just you Eds– Fuck, just you–” You were breathing heavy, moans escaping you in between, and he groaned in pleasure at your words, relief washing over him and he didn’t know why. He just felt a little lighter than before. He decided to believe your words because who knows if you’re lying or not, but for some reason he knows you aren’t. He knows you are telling the truth. He is the only one who can make you feel like this, and hopefully, that makes him the only one you’re fucking for now.
“You make me feel good too Peach, perfect every time.” You moaned loudly at that, and he assumed it was because you liked what he said, he could feel your delight at his words. He felt his lower abdomen tighten, signaling how close he was getting, making him hiss. His right hand left your waist in order to wrap his arm around your thigh, his hand reaching your clit, fingers pressing onto it and immediately rubbing in circles to help you achieve your orgasm.
Your back arched from the desk as your hands grabbed onto the edges of it, your moans becoming whimpers and cries as he kept pistoning inside of you while rubbing onto your clit, feeling your walls tremble and flutter around him.
“God– Baby– I’m–” The pet name slipped out of your mouth and it always drove Eddie to the edge. You never used them outside of sex, so this made them special. Eddie was panting through his moans as he kept his pace even if he felt his hips wanting to stutter, his climax right around the corner.
“I know sweetheart, I know, I can feel it. Come on–” And he growled, groaned, and moaned your name loudly when you clenched around him like a vice, tightly. His cock was engulfed completely by you, being sucked in as your back arched, your moans loud cries of his name as he kept circling your clit with his fingers, unable to move from how hard you were clenching around him.
He looked at how twisted in pleasure your face was, your body trembling and twitching as you rode your orgasm out. The sight before him was insanely perfect, hot, just a mix of everything that is good. You looked so beautiful when you were in complete pleasure, you looked… ethereal—made for him. Each fucking time.
“Eddie–!” And his name in your mouth in the middle of your orgasm was enough to make the elastic band snap for him, his abdomen finally feeling like it explodes as his body tightens, tenses up, and he finishes inside the condom, filling it to the brim as he always does. Spurt after spurt. He moaned loudly, his hips stilling deeply inside of you, twitching at every shot of his cum.
He felt his body drenched in sweat, and he was left breathless, panting, putting your legs down and slamming his hands on the desk, caging you in between him and the hardwood. Your eyes were closed as you tried to catch your breath, your chest moving up and down, his eyes going over your bare collarbones, your dark lace bralette still in full view for him. He looked at the skin on your neck, now seeing the mark of his hands, then a bite he gave you on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He marked you like you marked him.
“So much for not messing this little suit of yours, huh.” He said and that’s when your eyes opened, your head snapping to look at the clock that hung at the top of the door, quickly sitting up, making him pull away and out of you, the both of you groaning at the sensation of it. He quickly pulled his pants and boxers up, his eyes never leaving your form as you quickly buttoned your blouse back to place.
“Fuck, I have a meeting in ten fucking minutes!” You yelled and he could only chuckle, and he saw a smudge of your lipstick on the side of your face. He wanted to dart his thumb out, needing to wipe it off from you so you could be presentable, but that gesture was too intimate, wasn’t it?
“You didn’t mention that to me, can’t blame me for it.” He licked his lips cockily as you glared at him, jumping down from the desk, pulling your skirt down and zipping it on the back again. Your eyes looked around, frowning your eyebrows which made him tilt his head in question.
“Where’s my underwear?”
“Oh, I have no clue. I threw it over my shoulder–”
“This is the third one! I am losing the underwear that goes with my bras! I have to wear mismatched colors!” Eddie rolled his eyes at that, but he couldn’t help it, you looked kind of adorable when you cared for stuff like this.
“I am the only one that sees them anyways, so why does it matter?” At his words, your head turned to look at him.
“Who says you’re the only one? Don’t act cocky.” And he flared his nostrils, looking at you, studying you, doing the one thing he never cared of doing before meeting you because he believed he was invading people’s privacy with it.
“I know you’re lying now.” You turned your head to face him again, a puzzled look on your face, and also, surprised. Before you could talk, he opened his mouth again. “You will have to go commando for now, Peach. I’ll try to find your underwear.”
“Yeah, sure, you’re probably going to keep it and sniff it like a pervert.” At your words, his eyes widened in surprise, and he started sniffing as if he were a dog. Loud and invading your space, making you snort out a giggle as you tried to swat him away like a fly. “I said like a pervert, not a cute angelic being!”
“Dogs are angelic beings? I once saw a man getting his dick bitten off by a rottweiler–” You winced at that and this is what it was being with you. He was a horny teenager ten seconds ago, and now you two are laughing as if… nothing happened. It was the perfect scenario.
“Goodbye Munson, find my underwear! All of them! And no more hickies! I need to wear blouses and, unlike you, I meet with important business people almost everyday.” You said, fixing your skirt again, and then your hair. You’re probably going to notice the smudge of lipstick in the car.
“I meet important people too! You think that everyone owns a Ferrari sweetheart?” You stared at him for a few seconds and then you nodded, frowning your lips downwards with a nod.
“Good point.” You walked towards the door, opening it, ready to head out and this was one of the parts Eddie did not particularly like.
“Talk to you later, fuck buddy.” You flipped him off over your shoulder, closing the door behind you and he was left in the silence of his room, a huge contrast to what was happening ten minutes ago.
It was a perfect scenario for sure… but that didn’t mean he liked it.
He didn’t know why, or what, but he didn’t want to be like he is with his other hookups, or rather was. You are a friend, and you two share something special unlike some random situationship. You two greet eachother normally, never with a kiss, and then when you bid your goodbyes… this was it.
A funny exchange of words, and then it’s him or you leaving out the door. He stayed over and you stayed over, yet, never once you two had morning sex. Rarely had breakfast together. He understood it, and he accepted it because, you two are nothing more than just friends who fuck… constantly fuck, and will never be, and he knew it and he accepted it.
You also got out of a relationship, and most likely did not want another one at all, much less with someone like him. He decided to keep it this way. The waves from afar when saying goodbye, and no intimate gestures right after waking up. He took a deep breath in as he looked to his side, spotting your underwear underneath the metal archive drawers. He walked over and picked it up, looking down at it on his palm.
His gut turned with uncertainty as he looked at his door. He knew why he was angry before now that his mind is a little clearer. Right after having you. Right after you admitted what he needed to hear at that moment. He doesn’t want to say it or think on it, and maybe he shouldn’t. He wasn’t angry because of the whole plan. Sure he was being possessive but that’s just because of his nature and who he is, but it was more than that.
It was way more than what he dared to admit.
Because sure, Jeff had his hands on your waist…
But you never caressed his cheek the way you did to his friend.
end of chapter 20
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FLASHES OF THE BATTLE COME BACK TO ME IN A BLUR. ALL THAT BLOODSHED, CRIMSON CLOVER - SWEET DREAM WAS OVER. MY HAND WAS THE ONE YOU REACHED FOR.
☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader
☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, i cannot emphasize the angst warning enough - it's a sad one for our boy, sugar is spoken of inappropriately by roadies with sexual undertones, mentions of drug use beyond just weed (specifically sleeping pills as well as allusion to heavier drugs being acquired), minors dni
☆ WC: 6.7K+
☆ AN: i'm not even sorry at this point. let's get into it, shall we? or should i say - let's fight.
thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!
masterlist
“Alright. Let’s fight.”
There was a certain point in Eddie Munson’s life, approximately one year ago, in which he had come to the acceptance that sometimes harsh words exchanged were better than silence.
It had taken a lot out of him, that night – another drink tossed down his throat, another hit from his sour joint, another sigh passing his lips that was the closest he could come to communicating all that nostalgia and guilt building up within his chest. He had been terribly far gone, and he swears, at some point he had heard your voice call out his name.
And for a second there, he had believed you really were there.
It wasn’t because you had called out his name so sweetly, it wasn’t because there had been some sort of longing in your tone that echoed in his ears. No, he had heard your voice, and you had been angry. Furious, venomous in the way you had spit out his name. Each echo of it in that empty hotel room had felt like a residual punch to the gut, and for a second, he truly believed you were there with him. You were there, and you were angry, and all he could feel in his inebriated state was sheer happiness at the thought of seeing you again. He didn’t care if you screamed in his face. He didn’t care if you shot nothing but insults his way. It would be enough if you were there. He just wanted you to be there.
It had been a sore disappointment when he’d sat straight up in the bed that wasn’t his, in a room he wouldn’t see again after the night passed, and found himself to still be entirely and utterly alone.
He had wished you were there. He had wished that he could fight with you rather than drown out his sorrows.
And the Universe is funny in granting wishes, because now, he’s getting exactly what he had yearned for that night.
Your eyes are wide, pupils blown out, chest heaving with rapid breaths are you both simply stare. He doesn’t know where to start – but he remembers where it had ended the last time.
“You stopped saying you loved me.”
It’s already an unfair fight, uneven playing ground. Because how does he explain that? How does he explain how even if the words stopped leaving his lips, the feeling never paused its growth in his bones? You were rooted too deeply within him, even once your presence had been replaced with your absence, and he can’t imagine a day coming where he doesn’t love you.
He clears his throat awkwardly, “Would you like-”
“It was more than the physical leaving,” you interrupt him, “It was the… emotional leaving. That’s where we left off before Matt came into the studio.”
Straight to the point then, so it seems.
You stopped saying you loved me.
He did, didn’t he? He couldn’t fight against facts.
I never needed elaborate metaphors or pretty words, Eddie.
And he had been well aware of that. Perhaps that’s exactly why he’d gone and overdone it with the songs, with the lyrics, with the poetry. He gave you everything he had left, everything he knew you wouldn’t need.
I just needed to know you still fucking loved me.
And what is crueler than finally telling you how he knew that? That at the time, he had been so well aware that’s exactly what you had needed to hear, and perhaps that was exactly why he stopped saying it.
Keep you at an arm’s distance. Keep you safe and sound, miles away from the disaster of impending doom.
Miles away from him.
I can explain, he nearly says, but he doesn’t want to lie to you. His explanation is hardly palpable, and surely not something you would be able to stomach. He can hardly stomach it.
Instead, he tries to stand his ground, as if he could ever stand a chance against you, “What else was I supposed to do?”
Wrong choice of words.
“What else?” you parrot back in disbelief, finally looking less sad, less broken. This could work, he thinks. To see you fiery and alive, even in all your anger against him, rather than some broken thing, “Would you like to me to list out all of the fucking options you had?”
It’s a rhetorical question, but when he doesn’t respond, you decide to answer the obvious.
“You could have taken ten extra seconds on the phone to say love you, babe. You could have texted me the damn words. You could have- just- you could have just told me if you were getting sick of me!”
He doesn’t know which is a bloodier catastrophe – the shaking in your voice as you yell out the last part, or the twist of his stomach at hearing it.
Sick of you. You had thought he was sick of you.
“I wasn’t sick of you,” it comes out snappier than intended, but all that his tongue seems to care about is that the words are out there – no care in the fragility of tone. “I was- it was just a lot. It was our biggest tour yet, and-”
“Oh!” you laugh out, and his blood is beginning to go cold. All the warmth is leaking out, and all he can think about is twenty four hours ago. How warm it had been beneath his covers, your body curled against his, not a worry in the world. “Oh, I’m sorry. It was a lot? I’m so glad, in that case, that I took the stress of our relationship off your plate,” your voice is still cracking with every syllable. All he can think about is how it had sounded breathing out against his ear, “I just- Jesus, you ask me why I left? That’s why. Forget the bullshit about loving me. Maybe I just felt like a burden. Have you considered that?”
Sweet memories of the night before snaps away like elastic, back out of reach, your words yanking him back down to reality abruptly.
You, of all people, felt like a burden. To him.
The person he saw a future with – the person he wanted a future with. The only one he had wanted to see at the end of each wearing day on tour, tears clogging his throat up to the point where he pretended to be asleep so he could avoid having to try and chat with his bandmates. The only one who could have soothed whatever ferocious ache that had materialized deep within him while on the road, that he had foolishly tried to replace with a million different things that only ended up leaving him more empty. The only cure to a homesickness that had ruined him in the end.
You had never been a burden. But he was fucking it all up, and he was watching the weight of that belief fall down upon your shoulders again.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that!” he’s desperate now, struggling to find ways to fix this. There was a fine line when it came to the fight, a dance between seeing you alive and willing to put up your fists for whatever was left of the two of you versus seeing you broken and unwilling to help him fix it, and he’s sure he’s crossed it. Irreversible damage is being done, and he doesn’t know how to fix it, “It wasn’t- You weren’t- The problem was never…. Never….”
Fix it, fix it, fix it.
“Don’t say that the problem wasn’t me,” you huff out, almost laughing, looking right at him. Dead in the eyes, but still putting up the fight, “If I weren’t the problem, you wouldn’t have pushed me away. You would have- I don’t know, just let me in. We were supposed to be a team.”
He can’t deny a single word falling from your mouth. You’re right – he knows you’re right, sure as he knows the sun sets in the West, and he knows there’s nothing to be said that can fix this.
He chose to break this. This wasn’t some terrible accident; Eddie had gripped the wheel with both hands, shaking white knuckles in control, and had driven the two of you straight off the road.
—
He can’t breathe.
It’s all he could think about the moment he saw your contact light up the screen of his phone, as he swiped to answer, as he said his pitiful hello. Your voice doesn’t unlatch the tightness from around his lungs, your sweet words do nothing to lighten the load upon his chest. If anything, he almost swears you’re making it worse.
He can’t breathe, because he can’t handle you making it worse.
It wasn’t supposed to go this way. He wasn’t supposed to dread the phone calls. He wasn’t supposed to come up with lies about how his day has gone. He’s not supposed to be jumping through hoops to guarantee you can’t find out the truth.
Whenever he’d imagined these calls amidst his daydreams for this very life, give or take, he’d always assumed they’d be boiling over with the truth. That spilling out the mundane details of his day would come naturally, that he’d probably make you laugh by making sure you knew exactly which pair of mismatched socks he’d thrown on for the day. He thought he’d be honest; he’d be happy, and he’d be honest.
At the end of the day, he supposes he’d always thought the truth would have been something different.
He’s staring at the bottle of pills recently prescribed to him through whatever low-profile doctor his manager had found for him, meant to help him sleep these days after he’d had an entire private breakdown over his restlessness and a proper scolding for his ever-growing use of plain pot, and your voice prattling on about something is entirely lost on him.
When did that happen? When did he zone out when you, of all people, spoke to him?
You’re mid sentence when he cuts you off, “Hey, baby.”
A pause that feels like eternity to him, but probably goes unnoticed by you. He’s gotten good at that – he’s gotten good at churning out little infinities for himself amongst the seconds for others. Time to ruminate, time to rot, time to decay. A coping mechanism since privacy has become a foreign thing.
“I’m sorry, but they need me for soundcheck,” he says the lie so easily, it scares him. His palms shake at the realization that it was so simple, so second nature to him now.
Lying to you. He was lying to you. A realization that twists his gut painfully as it settles deep within him.
Soundcheck had finished over an hour ago. Showtime wasn’t for another two. He had the time for you – he had specifically made sure to have the time for you after dancing around your texts and calls the last week.
Why was he making up an excuse to end the call? He’d made the time. Why?
“Oh.”
He can’t fucking breathe. He can hear the disappointment, and he can’t fucking breathe.
One little word. Two insignificant letters. They ruin him in too many ways to formulate.
“Oh, that’s fine!” your desperate attempt at a recovery doesn’t fool him for a second, but maybe you had sensed his mind being so far away. Maybe you had assumed he’d fall for the nauseatingly fake mask of joy, “Go, they need you.”
Do they, though? Do they truly, genuinely need him?
It had been a question keeping him up lately. The very question that was meant to be quieted by the Zolpidem that he continues to burn holes through the bottle of with his heavy eyes.
Lately, it had felt a lot less like they needed him, and more like everyone around him needed the idea of him. They needed the rockstar, the frontman. They needed the man who would get on stage every night and sing his heart out, who would smirk at a crowd of adoring fans and wink at them in order to send their hearts racing. The charming trickster who could produce honey words both over a record and over interviews, luring in new fans at every corner.
They needed his hands, only so that they may write words across pages and play instruments across tracking.
They needed his vocal chords, to sing the lyrics to market, and to smooth talk the early morning show host.
They needed his heart, so they could tear it apart and devour it right in front of him, uncaring that they would leave him with nothing but a bloody mess by the end of it.
“Yeah,” he chuckles, and he knows you won’t be able to taste the dryness of it. His entire tone has been flat – the laugh is no different. “Rockstar duties and all. We’ll talk more later?”
He hates rockstar duties. He hates it all.
He hates the lights that are always too warm while he’s up on stage, gasping with every breath to try and find the joy once more in his tired bones. He hates the tight schedule, and the way he can’t even have enough free time to leave his hotel room to see half the cities he’s visited. He hates the flashing phones across the crowd, all vying for a photo more than they are a connection.
He’s being drained dry. He has nothing left to give – by the time he’s meant to come home to you, he will have less than nothing.
“Of course. Go give ‘em Hell.”
His fingers can’t work fast enough. Your soft oh had broken him, but this shatters him.
Because that’s what they want, isn’t it? They want him to give them Hell, packaged in the euphoria of a false Heaven. And yet, at the end of the day, the only one receiving the fires of the Hell is him. The loneliness, the demanding weight of the world, the bottom of a parched well. Everyone else lives in a dream from what he can give them, but Eddie?
Eddie is left with nothing.
He hangs up just in time for the first sob to leave him. Dry as he felt, dry as his laughter. He couldn’t even choke out a pathetic love you. And his ears are ringing, and somewhere in the buzz, he tries to decipher out the last time he had said those words to you. He knows the sound of your sweet tongue awarding him the affection – you say it at every chance you get – but he can’t recall when he’d last offered you that piece of his soul.
Did he still love you?
Yes, the violent thing in him sobs as he lets out another croak, doubling over and tossing his phone away blindly, I do. And that’s the issue.
He was a ticking time bomb now. He knew there was an inevitable end coming for him, and he was terrified he wouldn’t survive this tour.
And you – his darling light, the one he was supposed to race home to and was supposed to hold close to his heart as motivation to make it through so that this tour would not be the end – wouldn’t survive it either. The blast radius, the implosion. You were something too soft, too gentle to handle that. He couldn’t do that to you.
He couldn’t ruin you. And so he was pushing you away.
Somewhere through the gasping breaths and shake of his shoulders, he reaches to find his phone again. His eyes burn, but no tears come as he stares down at a now cracked screen. He’s hyperventilating – he can’t catch his breath, no matter how wide his chest and lungs try to expand. It’s been stolen from him.
All of it has been stolen from him. His happiness, his dreams, you.
A month back, he had to change his lockscreen from his favorite photo of you. It had been at a party, and one of the sleazes dressed in leather and cigarette smoke had thrown his arm around Eddie just in time to get a peek at his lockscreen.
‘Take a load of that,’ the stranger had commented with a low whistle, whiskey on his breath suffocating.
Eddie had tried to not judge him the entire night. Sometimes, when he was looking at him, he saw the reflection of himself these days.
‘What?’ Eddie had tried to laugh off, looking more properly through his drunkenness at that vibrant photo of you. His girl, the one he wanted to go home to. All big smiles and aching cheeks, laughing probably at something stupid he had done.
He could see your bare thighs brushing the sheets of your shared bed back home – it started a hollow ache of longing to feel them wrap him up again. The sheets, your thighs, your arms.
The small bunks on the bus and the hotel rooms didn’t compare to sleeping next to you. He thought if you had been there, if you had been with him, maybe this all would have been easier.
‘That fine piece of meat on your screen, man,’ the guy motioned vaguely with a deep chuckle. ‘Fuck, is that what’s waiting for you back home?’
The sinking feeling had started then. The urge to flip his phone over and hide you away began to accumulate, his hand twitching with it.
‘Yeah, that’s my girlfriend,’ he had said. Choked the words out. Tried to brush off his worry.
That’s just how the guys on the road had spoken. It was fine. It would be fine.
‘Shoulda brought her on the road,’ the man had sighed. ‘Then we all could have gone a few rounds with her.’
Eddie had never leapt up from a couch quicker. He had also never vomited up more of his guts in a stranger’s plants than he did immediately upon running out the back door.
Your photo had been exchanged for a stock image the next day.
The memory still makes him sick.
He swipes right over that very stock image, one he never cared enough to change because the only photo worth replacing it with was one he could no longer share with this world, to unlock his screen to find his texts with you already open.
His thumbs are shaking, alien, almost unwilling as he commands them to type a message.
Maybe, just maybe, he shouldn’t be pushing you away. He shouldn’t be sinking deeper into this crowd of uncaring faces, of people who only want him for what he can give them.
Maybe he should come crawling back to the one who wants him for his hands, and the way you could hold them out in your lap as you traced the softest of patterns over sensitive skin, a secret message of adoration poured from your own fingertips.
Maybe he should confide more in the one who wants him for his vocal chords, and for the conversations that could be had in the middle of the night, upholding his opinions on anything and everything with the most importance. And in the shield of the night, sometimes even the day, he couldn’t possibly say the wrong thing – not with you.
Maybe he should remember to love the one who wanted his heart, simply to handle it with care instead of devourment.
The simple message of I love you is typed out. His thumb hovers over the small send button.
Maybe he should let you back in. Maybe he could survive this.
His thumb diverts suddenly, backing out of the conversation, back into the rows of texts awaiting to be opened and read. Left to smolder just like all his missed calls, missed birthdays, missed holidays. Friends from back when everything felt real, and more sleazes in leather and cigarette smoke. People who devour. People who want what he gives, never what he is.
Wayne, somewhere amongst the missed connections, just asking if Eddie is alive. If his boy is okay.
He goes ignored, just as you had as of late, and for all the same reasons. Same lump stuck in Eddie’s throat, same weight on his chest.
The thumb finds its way to a text chain with someone who can’t fill the hole in Eddie’s chest, but he certainly had offered something at one of those after parties that might be a good place to start.
Maybe Eddie should just get more of that, more sweet releases without a prescription, something to send his mind swirling until he forgets that you, that Wayne, that even he exists. Yes, that might be the best idea he’s had all week – he types out a message and hits send without hesitation this time to a stranger with his worst interests in mind, asking if he might have any more of that snow in the dead of July he’d been offered at the party.
His text to you, unfortunately, is never sent.
—
“You want me to let you in?” Eddie suddenly says as he snaps back into his body, into his current mind and current situation.
He can’t change the past. He’d give anything – God, he’d give everything – to go back to that night and make different choices, better choices, but he can’t.
All he really has is the here and now. This version of him, and this version of you. The current you, who hates him and absolutely should. The current him, who’s six weeks sober yet has finally seen the light.
The past doesn’t matter, and yet the past is the entire reason for this.
“Yes,” you laugh as dryly as he had that night during that final call, throwing your head back in your own desperation, “Jesus Christ, yes. That’s all I ever wanted, all I fucking asked f-”
He cuts you off by suddenly storming off, but it’s not away from the situation. Not this time.
Down the hallway, through the door only himself and you have ever passed through. Across the carpeted floors and straight for the stack of notebooks scattered beside the couch.
Somewhere in the mess, he finds the notebook he’s looking for, right on top of his laptop he needs.
You trail in behind him, seemingly stunned by his rash actions – except they’re not that rash. He may be moving fast, erratically even, but this is the most sane he’s ever felt with how he’s handling the situation that has become the two of you.
“You want me to let you in?” he repeats, and you stare with confused eyes, mouth barely agape, entirely lost for a moment, “Fine. I’ll let you in.”
He throws the notebook your way, and your reflexes are your savior as you catch the flutter conglomeration of paper between your palms. The laptop, however, he’s smarter about.
“Clearly, you’ve already seen my notebook of lyrics,” he says as he huffs, setting the laptop up on the coffee table, rummaging for a pair of headphones he knows he’s left somewhere in this mess, “Why not take it a step further, yeah? I have the demos right here, on my laptop. I’ve been recording them for ages, and having copies of any we try out in the studio sent over to me. I want you to listen to them, because obviously, just reading everything I wanted to say to you doesn’t wo-”
You nearly fling the notebook right back at him, slamming it down against the side of your thigh, “I don’t want songs!”
He pauses, looks up at you, nearly deranged. “No? You just asked me to let you in, and this is me letting you in.”
“That’s not- this isn’t-” you stutter over your words and he can see your eyes begin to sparkle with tears as you approach him, just as frustrated as he was now. “I want you to speak to me, Eddie! I’m tired of listening to second-hand accounts and I’m tired of all the versions of you, of this fight, in my head! Use your words,” you make your way between him and the table, the laptop, falling to your knees slowly, the notebook being tossed away for a moment as both your palms come to grip his knees. He can’t tell if you’re trying to ground him, or yourself, “I am here. Right fucking here, right in front of you. And after all this time, you still can’t talk to me.”
He feels the way you shake with those gentle palms on his bruised knees. He’s terrified – the rough fabric of his jeans isn’t thick enough to keep you away. There’s not enough layers of any fabric on this planet that could ever be thick enough to keep you from feeling that rot. And you must feel it – you must feel all those holes that have whittled away at the man you once knew.
The man you once loved.
He doesn’t think he can ever be that man again. They did more than break his spirit over the years, or crush his childhood dreams.
Something snapped in the foundation of him.
“I…”A lump he’s felt as though he’s lived a lifetime without finally returns. The same one from that terrible night in which he made every wrong choice possible. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
Your face falls, ever so slightly. “It’s not about what I want-”
“Yes,” he stops you, hands coming down to press over yours. Your skin is warmer than his, and he fights the urge to flip your palms up. Press the softest of your skin against the roughest of his, intertwining unworthy fingers between slots unmeant for him, “It is. It absolutely is.”
Just how silently can a heart break?
You don’t pull back from his touch, and it almost feels like progress. Silent shattering can almost be mended with the way you only let your left palm weakly squeeze at his knee once, twice.
He waits for the third squeeze, but it never comes.
“Then there’s where we start,” you whisper, looking down at where his hands hover over yours.
“Start with what?”
“Fixing things.”
You finally pull your hand away, a slow drag that sends shivers up his spine. He has half the mind to try and capture your hand in his to prevent it; one last desperate attempt to cling to you and all the ways you could heal him. All the ways you could love him. A world of possibility, another time in the Universe where you adore him and he’s never hurt you. Where his shelves are filled with photos of the two of you, together. Where he doesn’t fold you out of the frame, and where his walls are just a little less cold.
A time, a world, where home feels like home again.
“We need to stop saying what we think the other person wants to hear,” you croak out as you stand up, almost ashamed. As if realization has finally washed over you of just what you had done – gotten down on your knees and begged him, pleaded with him. “If this is going to work, that…. It has to stop.”
We need to stop being what we think the other needs. We don’t know what the other needs.
The unspoken truth you don’t need to say to him. He gets it, he really does.
This entire relationship, this entire situation the two of you have stumbled into headfirst, needs to be a fresh start. As far as either of you should be concerned, you need to be strangers. No history, no marks, no dust.
It’s a challenge Eddie would have balked at a mere six weeks ago, but that he faces head-on now. The thought of forgetting you, untangling your soul from his, in order to make new knots doesn’t scare him as much as he should. It’s his chance to start over; his chance to start fresh and new, a clean slate he’d begged for every night amidst every new mistake he had made in your absence.
He could do this. And by the look on your face, you could also do this.
“Agreed,” he finally stands up from the couch, nodding more to himself than to you, “Start new. Start fresh. Some inspirational quote from those fucking Facebook moms I hate.”
A smile nearly cracks on your face, “You hate Facebook moms?”
“Oh, I loathe them,” he leans in a bit closer, as though he might be letting you in on a secret. Really, he’s just trying to distract you from his wound – that terrible gash in his chest this fight had opened back up, a slice from the past he’ll need the night to stitch back together, “It’s okay, though. The feeling’s mutual.”
Your laugh is weak, and it’s proof enough that it isn’t forced. “Figured as much. I guess the Satanic panic wasn’t just a Hawkins’ thing, huh?”
Hawkins. God, he hadn’t spoken about Hawkins with anyone, any single soul, in so long that the name of the town almost felt foreign.
“Guess not,” he quirks his mouth, tilting his head at you, trying to chase away the reeling you’re sending him on. If he thinks too hard about Hawkins, he’ll think too hard about more names he hasn’t uttered in a year. More people left behind, more memories left to burn, “So… Now what?”
He needs to change the topic, to run away one last time. There’s other nights ahead for the two of you to open those wounds of his. Tonight is not the night.
You shrug, looking around the room, “I mean… we have a contract to fulfill.”
“I’m sure my people will get in touch with your people.”
“I also have work tomorrow.”
“I’m sure I could call a cab for you in the morning.”
“Eddie.”
A selfish part of him had hoped if he’d given in and fought, you might stay another night. That maybe the fight would give him everything he had wanted, and then some.
Another night. Another clean slate. Another chance to prove himself.
But by the break in your voice as you say his name, he knows he was clearly delusional.
“Or I could call you one tonight,” he secedes softly, failing at hiding most of his disappointment. It doesn’t matter – it doesn’t change a thing. “You’ll probably need your beauty sleep. No need for some aggravating rockstar to interrupt all your rest with his lousy guitar playing.”
“Stop that,” you insist, face falling a bit too serious for his liking. He had been trying to joke around, “I- Your guitar playing is not lousy. We both know that.”
“Lousy or legendary, it still keeps you up.”
He watches the contort of your face, and his chest constricts. He wants to be able to read your mind, look past that sudden stoic wall that falls over your eyes and flat lips. Chip past the marble facade to understand why those words seemingly sucked all the air out of the room just now.
“Yeah,” you say, but you sound miles away, looking over his shoulder, breaths a bit unsteady. “Yeah… You’re, uh, you’re right. I don’t mind calling my cab-”
“I insist,” he rushes out, still scanning your face, still grasping for straws to get a glimpse inside your brain.
What did he do wrong? What had he said?
“You really don’t-”
“Consider it done.”
His phone is already in hand, and the number already half dialed into it isn’t just the city’s taxi service. It’s his driver’s.
His personal driver. Is that what had made you uncomfortable? Had you realized that before he’d even called for one of those SUVs to be your ride home?
Was he coming on too strong for all this talk of a fresh start?
You pick your battles, and just as he had lost the war to have you stay, you let him dial the number. Wander to the corner of the room as he talks to the man only he’s familiar with over his cell phone, fingers tracing over the few instruments littering the space. He wonders if you take note of which ones you pull away from with a smudge of dust on the pad of your finger, and if you can see the desperate wear worn into others from late nights like the night before. If you can see the scratch marks covering guitars from violent strumming, or rough circles over the keys of a keyboard he’s propped against the wall after it had stopped emitting noise due to being kicked off its stand after a particularly rough session.
He wonders if tears can stain, and if you could see any of his panic and regret at that burst of violence. It was the night he swore off vodka.
With confirmation of the SUV being on its way, he turns all his attention back on you, “See anything you like?”
You’d been staring at one specific acoustic guitar, one that had gathered more dust than any other instrument in the room. A stunning guitar polished to perfection, to the point of still being able to see your reflection in the onyx abyss of it below the layer of neglect.
He knows exactly where your eyes have caught. A perfect carving of his initials, deeply cut into the rosewood right below the strings at the top of the neck. Dust had covered up the deep red painted into the hand-carved letters.
“What?” you look over suddenly, almost as though you wanted to pretend you hadn’t seen it. But he knows you did, and he knows you had a good guess, an accurate guess, as to where that guitar came from. “I- No- I mean, yes! Sorry, I just… A lot of instruments, I guess?”
You’re biting your lip, clearly nervous, as he forces a smile, “Yeah. Always swore I’d have a room like this when we- I had a place of my own someday.”
He knows the blood has drained from his face at his slip up. Feels the cold creep into his cheeks, as he clears his throat awkwardly.
“You did,” you grant him the grace of ignoring it. Save him the embarrassment, and move right along, “What kind of guitar is that one?” you pause, turning back to the guitar you’d locked your sights on and jut your chin in it’s direction, “A… Yamaha, right?”
“Yamaha F335,” he confirms, walking up behind you, looking at the dark beauty, “Nothing extravagant, but…”
“You always said Yamaha never felt cheap,” you murmur under your breath, smiling as if lost in a memory, “Under two hundred bucks, and you still sounded like Kirk Hammett when you hammered out those solos over Master of Puppets.”
He wishes you wouldn’t do this. Not now, not when you aren’t spending the night. Not when a car is coming to take you away, and not when he knows your knees are still raw from falling to them and begging him of all people to just talk to you.
“It was a crime,” he chokes out in a tight tone, having to cough a little to loosen up his words before continuing, “Playing such a metal album on an acoustic. Always sounded better on Sweetheart.”
You continue to tear him open, rib by rib, as you softly say, “Yeah, but Wayne always seemed to like that music a little better when you played it that way instead.”
It feels as though it’s finally his turn to fall to his knees.
You don’t even notice the unraveling, reaching up to caress over the strings covering the simple cursive EM on the neck. Almost out of reach from where the guitar sways on the wall mount.
“Does she have a name?”
He has to gather himself before he can reply, “What?”
“The guitar,” you glance over your shoulder, eyes shining just a bit. He thinks he knows why you wouldn’t face him now. Why you’d kept your back to him, “You always named your guitar. Don’t tell me you grew out of that, Munson.”
This smile isn’t quite as forced, but it quivers all the same on his lips and cheeks, “Never. His name’s Nelson.”
Your face scrunches a bit, “Nelson? His name’s Nelson?”
“Yep.”
He can’t help the way the word comes out so short, so quipped. You’re both treading in very dangerous territory now.
“That’s…” you nod, deep in thought as you trail off, and he wonders if you caught on, “Odd. But I like it. What was the inspiration?”
He has to lie. He can’t admit it to you. There is only so much blood left in his body to bleed out tonight, and he simply cannot give you the full truth now.
“A bit of a nod to the person who gifted it to me,” he offers as much of the truth he can, but if you ask him for any more specifics, he simply can’t.
You look between him and the guitar, a small smile growing, and it breaks his heart, “Oh? And who- I mean… may I ask who gifted it?”
His entire body aches as he forces out, “An old friend.”
Eddie Munson hates himself. More than he ever believed possible, to the point of a stomach churning with sheer sickness as you nod at the oddly quiet answer, finally taking the hint.
He hates himself. He hates what he has become. He hates what he has destroyed.
“Sounds-” you’re cut off by the ringing of his phone, incessant chiming from his driver to announce his arrival.
The conversation ends there. Eddie informs you your ride is here, and he trails after you slowly as you gather your things. He feels the apartment drop colder and colder as each article of you is snatched up, no malicious intent but painful all the same, until he’s finally walking you to the elevator with his hands shoved in his pockets.
“So,” you nearly stumble over your own two feet as you try to face him in the final few steps, clumsy and nervous as ever. Even if the fight has cleared some of the air, offered some clean slate, some things never change, “I guess your people will call my people?”
He only nods, discreetly tucking his hand back away that had shot out, ready to catch you.
“Okay,” you nod, eyeing him as though you have more to say. A million words, a million questions, a million topics to avoid. He really wishes you would spend the night. “Well, then…. See you around, I guess?”
Bruised knees, avoidant eyes, tight throats. The two of you are such a mess, it’s no longer funny.
“See you around, Sugar.”
The elevator dings with its arrival, and Eddie doesn’t let you get another word in before he’s motioning you in. Away from him, away from the damage, away from the impending explosion.
He almost wonders if you had the same look on your face the final day you’d left your shared apartment with him as he watches the two doors slide shut.
He doesn’t linger, though. The moment you’re locked away from him, he’s rushing back to his apartment. The only one on the entire floor, entirely secluded in his tower, cursed to solitude as a private punishment. Whenever anyone had asked in the past, it had always been the excuse of privacy – but he knows better.
Eddie Munson had torn himself limb by limb, cutting every lifeline ever tied to him, long before he’d moved into this chilling penthouse.
He avoids the urge to run to one of his panoramic windows, trying to remind himself he won’t be able to see thirteen floors down to the street where you’re surely rushing into that familiar black SUV. He takes a sharp turn down his hallway, feeling almost robotic, returning back to that cursed room the two of you had just broken each other inside moments before.
Straight to the back wall, and straight to the black Yamaha guitar. Straight to Nelson.
His hands shake as he pulls the instrument away from the wall just enough to see a note that barely clings to hand-polished wood, tape aged and paper crumbled. Yet the ink is still visible. The scar, it seems, is not quite healed as he reads over the messy scrawl.
For my boy. Give them Hell, kid. And maybe give your old man a call.
Love, Wayne.
#ghost's stories#maroon#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things#my fingers slipped?#we're getting into it now friends
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Small moments in TDP to remind us of love despite the horrors
The Amaya and Corvus forehead touch
Callum sharing Harrow’s letter about history being a narrative of love with Ezran sometime during the time skip
Soren carrying Ezran on piggyback
Ezran deciding his big brother needs a 17th birthday party to get cheered up
Soren caring and worrying about Zubeia’s infection
Callum stroking Rayla’s hand with his thumb
Soren opening up to Corvus about his mom’s photo being tucked in his armor
Sarai and Amaya signing to each other and laughing
The Baitlings. Just them.
Rayla singing Stella to sleep
The Callum and Rayla fist bump
Ezran running to Rayla the moment he saw she came back and making it known he wants her on the mission
Callum copying the tickle thing Harrow used to do with him and Ezran
Ezran teaching Zym how to fly
Soren “giving” Aunt Amaya a punch in the arm “from him”
Rayla being hugged in the middle of all her boys
Ezran telling Rayla he loves her in front of Sorvus and Ruthari
Callum setting up the boat with all the little animals
Terry kissing Claudia’s forehead
Callum being so excited Amaya was getting married he tossed his staff to rush to her and Gren had to catch it
Amaya coming to Gren and saying for advice on how to write her vows
Callum wishing Ezran was there because “he’d know what to do” with the star weaver spider
Astrid asking complete strangers if they were Aunt Amaya
Stella playing with Soren’s hair when him and Rayla were hugging
Rayla touching Callum’s face lovingly
Amaya holding Janai after her nightmares
Callum having a drawing of Rayla in his office
Bait. Just Bait. Their grumpy emotional-support therapy toad.
Callum memorizing and reciting Damien’s poetry
Soren wearing pajamas under his armor
Callum tying a bracelet of phoenix feathers around Rayla’s wrist
Gren bring the best third wheel ever
Zubeia laughing at Soren’s jokes
Rayla kissing Esmeray so gently
Callum going straight to Ezran to tell him he loves him after reading Harrow's letter
Bait patting Soren’s foot to let him know he wasn’t a “failed son”
Callum finally calling Harrow ‘Dad’
Corvus clapping at Soren’s jokes.
Callum’s wing hugs. They look like the warmest safest hugs ever.
Soren apologizing to Callum and squeezing him on the Storm Spire steps. Fastforward two years and they are holding each other.
Kazi’s “wild and crazy student years”
Sarai proving that love knows no bounds by falling in love with a poet then a king
Ezran holding Callum in his arms when he had passed out even though they were fighting
Callum pushing back Rayla’s hair
Adoraburs. Just adoraburs.
#the dragon prince#tdp#continuethesaga#giveusthesaga#i thought we needed some softness and positivity to remind us why we love this show right now#ADD TO IT IF YOU HAVE MORE
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Mine. Katsuki Bakugou x Reader
Just a little filler as I write a proper series so it’s not very well written, just wrote what came to mind and haven’t checked it so please don’t have too high standards I promise I’ll put something better out soon! Check out my other works too!
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Bakugo was a lot of things, and it seemed everyone had a different idea of him in their heads. Some hated his brashness, thinking of him as violent. Some, namely small children, thought of him as if he hung the stars, a hero, somebody to be praised and loved. To you he was katsuki, flaws and all. Sometimes he would rat on annoyingly about eating healthy and you wanted to do no more than punch his face, but he was the same man who protected your honour and name with his whole life if you weren’t in the room. He always teased you, annoyed you, but he would never belittle you, and god forbid somebody did because they would be dealt with. Katsuki was a lot of things, but he was undeniably yours.
He was currently waiting by the door, his foot tapping impatiently, yet he never rushed you. He watched, as you smacked your lips and fixed your hair. It reminded him of Mina, and their high school days of him waiting forever for his group to get ready to go out, but at the same time it was ever so different. He could and he would wait as long as it took for you. He was known for being impatient, but sometimes you wondered if those were rumours, having never experienced it yourself, until you saw it first hand against your friends, not even shoto being the sweet soul he is, able to avoid his wrath.
It all resulted to one thing though. Katsuki bakugo was completely and utterly in love with you. Infatuated even.
Reblogs and likes encouraged! Do not copy or post on other platforms.
#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki x you#katsuki bakugo mha#mha bakugou#bakugou x reader#bakugou x y/n#mha#bnha#bnha bakugou#bnha x reader#bnha bakugo katsuki#mha fanfiction#mha x reader#drabble#mha drabbles
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Listen I dont write for Thanos but:
Thanos its a nerd.
Thanos x Nerd!Reader
No one really makes the connection. Well at least not seriously.
No one knows of the dusty comics he has at his aparment. Or the many hours he passed on forums detabing with other fans about his obsession with villains and super heros.
Its sad really. Sometimes he feels alone since his persona does not give out the nerd vibe, so he has no one to talk to about it.
"More green and we would look like Hulk"
Excusme, go back. Because what did he just hear ?
He sees you for the first time, pulling at your track suit as you talk with other players.
No, he most have hear bad...
"Wait you read comics?" "Yes, got a problem with that?"
Cross him in love because holy fuck a fellow nerd who is ready to throw punches ?
"So...Marvel right?" He casually asks as he steps away from his team while the second game starts.
"Of course. And Team Captain America"
"Marry me"
"What?"
Its safe to say you two becomes best Friends over your shared love for comics. Nights are passed by you two discussing about characters and theories and even thinking on the next volume or the last one you two did read.
"Sorry but Doctor Strange is stronger"
"No you are totally wrong"
"I will kill you next game for that"
"...pls punch me"
Migle game when the number went to 2 he was taking you with him. And what did you two did ? Do a debate on which character would win these Deadly games.
Honestly the guards that listen to you two believes you are nuts.
Does he wants you as a romantic partner?
HELL YES !!
He is not subtle at all during the games. Honestly everybody knows he has a big crush on him, only getting worse when you do a reference to one comic.
Some are so tired of you two.
When he returns from the bathrooms are bloody and with a sad face.
Oh! He sees his Angel there, ready to help him with his injuries.
"You are not worth on being on Captain's side"
Ok that did hurt more than the dam fucking stab with the fork.
"Thanks I love you too" He says joking.
"Yeah yeah, now stop moving so I can clean you up"
#squid game imagines#squid game x y/n#suicide squad imagine#squid game x reader#thanos x reader#thanos squid game#QUICK DRAFT
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I heard you want hard thots about Ateez so here's mine:
Making sub!Hongjoong fuck your high heel.
👀👀👀
Heel humper
hongjoong x fem!reader
this took me an unreasonably long amount of time to write and for that I am sorry. for the longest I was drawing blanks about how to start it, but it's done now!! this is also very self-indulgent and heavily influenced by my own kinks.
he'd be so pent up, just a big ball of pure want and desire. a need to please and be pleased thrumming throughout his body, lounging beneath his skin. you can see it in the way he drops to his knees, looking at you with wet eyes, his hands running up and down your legs.
there's reverence in the way he rests his forehead on your knees, his breath shaky and uneven. he shudders when your hand threads through his hair, and in the softest voice, he whispers, "touch me— please, I need you."
when you don't respond he lifts his head, pouting almost, "please, I've been good. been such a good boy for you, so touch me."
his rant devolves into prayer, please’s falling off his tongue like air. desperation sticks to his skin like sweat, glimmers in the wetness of his eyes. his nails dig into your knees, crescent moons engraved into your skin– you don't even think he realizes how hard he's gripping you.
"fuck my heel.”
your command cuts through his begging like a hot knife, he pauses, “but-”
“you want me to touch you, don't you? fuck my heel and I'll think about it.”
he sucks his lips between his teeth, holds it there, thinks for a few seconds. his eyes scanning your face for any mercy, any bit of pity he could latch on to. you press your foot into his bulge, and he gasps. pink lips pulled into a small circle. the sound light and fleeting. his hips start working before he can truly think about it. they work at an animal pace, carnal. his chin resting on your knee, arms wrapped around your calf.
he looks feral, hair strung around– sticking to his sweaty forehead, his temples, and the back of his neck. teeth sinking into his bottom lip, which is bitten pink. his hold keeps your foot pressed taut against his bulge, and it throbs. blood pulsing through him and straight to his cock. pre-cum stains his boxers, leaks into his dress pants.
the friction hurts. it hurts so badly, it starts to feel good. his eyelids flutter, vision shifting between clear and misty, to misty and clear. your figure dancing between a silhouette, but sometimes he catches details like how you dress hugs your figure, the rise and fall of your chest, how dark you eyes are peering down at him. they look through him, straight through like an arrow to the heart, a punch to the stomach. your red lips pulled into a frown. your lipstick smeared a little from his kisses, and he's sure some stuck to his lips, too. the thought sends a wave of pleasure through him. he groans.
“this is all you need, hm? you can cum from humping my foot like a dog.” you hiss, and the words spear into him, sends a shiver down his spine.
his hips stutter, a whine spills out of him. his face scrunches up, pained, “what? no– please, I wan– I need you.”
you heel digs in deeper, yanking more pathetic noises out of him. “is that so? well, earn it. cum like this, and I might touch you.”
he nods, affirmative. he can do that. that's the easiest task he's been given all day. his hips speed up, and he presses himself harder into your foot, and it hurts. god, it hurts, but he needs it. he needs the pain to push him to the edge, and in his haze, he whines out, “hurt me, miss, need it to cum. need it to be good for you.”
“what did you say, baby?” you voice is saccharin; overly sweet, melt-on-your-tongue like chocolate. your nails scrap along his scalp as you grip his hair, and it stings, enough to make him wince, whining at your rough grip. his cock twitches, but it's not enough.
“more,” he gasps out, pink-faced and dizzy, “I need you to hurt me more.”
when he sees your hand lift, he tries not to tense because he knows what's next. instead, he focuses on how the movement causes your perfume to waft into his nose. sweet, comforting, pleasant. but that doesn't make it less unexpected– the impact, he means. he hears it before he feels it. the loud crack of your palm meeting his cheek. but welcomes it nonetheless, his hips stutter and his cock jumps in his pants. his cheek aches, tingles, blood rushing to the area. a half whine-half groan tumbles out of him.
“god, you're disgusting.” you spit, but there's a layer of marvel, of lust beneath the venom, “getting off on me hurting you. you're such a slut.”
he whimpers, “another– ah, please.”
this time it's your knuckles that make contact with his cheek, and he thinks you hit him harder because his head feels funny. his teeth all rattled, a dull ringing in his ears. eyes glazed over. but it's this one that does the job, he scrambles to hold you tighter, fingers gripping your legs for dear life. a choked sob escaping him, “ma’am, I'm– fuck, fuck, fuck– gonna cum.”
you coo, “cum for me.”
he does with a drawn out sob, a single tear rolls down his cheek. his thoughts are scatter-shot. barely there, floating up, up, up and away. his mind blanks. through misty vision, he sees you, smiling that soft smile that's completely unbefitting of the blissful agony you're causing him, but it cradles him. he's making a mess. his pants are ruined, but he doesn't care. can't bring himself to think to hard about anything. he slumps, planting wet open-mouthed kisses to your legs, or any skin he can reach. babbling praises through the aftershock of his orgasm. you're so perfect, this is perfect. this is all he could ever ask for, and he tells you that. over and over. you pet his hair as he continues rutting against your foot, dragging out his climax.
#ateez x reader#hongjoong x reader#sub ateez#ateez smut#ateez hongjoong smut#ateez fanfic#kim hongjoong x reader#kim hongjoong hard hours#drabbles ♡
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Impromptu Lunch
written before sugilite's release — do take it with a grain of salt
a/n: a small drabble i made to quench the sugilite drought heh — a lil bit spicy but nothing that needs a warning — !!!gn reader!!!
wc: 0.9k
“You’re late, again.” Sugilite purrs as he digs into his food. You can only watch as this infuriating man takes a bite of some obscene meal. The almost raw-looking texture of the meat makes a churn in your gut. “Got held up by some subordinates. Surely you can understand?” you can’t help but sigh. Why ever did you accept this invite? Sugilite merely hums, gesturing for one of his men to bring you food. “Oh, I’m sure. This whole company’s full of bumbling fools.” he chuckles but then his smile wavers. Setting down his cutlery, he looks directly into your eyes and you can’t help but feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “I’m not here for small talk.” he says. The white-haired man seems to be thinking about what he’s about to say. He opens his mouth only to close it, lips pursed in thought. You can’t help but want to punch this man. First, he ruins your schedule with this impromptu ‘lunch’ and now he can’t even find his own words?
So annoying.
Finally, he speaks up. “That person. Who was it.” is all he asks with a cold look and you finally realize what he’s trying to do. Grinning, you lean across the expansive table and sip the wine poured for you. “Oh, so that’s what you got pissy, eh,” you can’t help but feel petty, “Just a dear friend of mine, you know? Actually, sorry. I doubt you know what a friend is.” You can only watch with amusement as Sugilite’s face gets even more annoyed.
“I doubt a friend is someone who you…” he trails off and angrily stabs into his plate, the juices leaking out of the meat. You innocently flutter your eyelashes and try not to laugh. You know what he means. You had gotten a little bit friendly with people last night at an IPC gala. Perhaps a little too friendly if it got Sugilite hissing like a cat.
You take another sip of your drink as Sugilite struggles to act cordially. He suddenly gets up and you pause. Eyeing him while he makes his way over to your side. Then he’s standing there, right behind your chair. You don’t dare look up but you can feel his glare digging into the back of your head.
His hands dig into the back of the chair and his head leans down closely. “Be careful with your words,“ he murmurs, his stupidly long earrings grazing your skin, “No floundering around. Or else” You try to turn your head to look at him but his hands suddenly find themselves on your shoulders. “Now, tell me, who were they.”
You tsk. How annoying could this man be? Deciding to bite back, you reply, “What’s it to you, hm? The people I give my time to have nothing to do with you.” Sugilite’s eyes narrow and one of his hands comes up to tilt your chin. You can see the look of pure annoyance on his face and you can’t help but sheepishly grin. “It, in fact, does matter.”, Sugilite scoffs, “How–or more importantly, who, you associate with reflects in all of us Stonhearts.” “That’s a lame excuse.” you snort, easily seeing through him. What a terrible liar. You get up from your seat, cup in hand, and move closer. “If you’re jealous, just say it, kitty.” you mock, forcing him up against the opaque wall. Sugilite’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth. “What are you do–”, Sugilite starts but he’s cut off when you quickly press the wine to his lips, forcing him to drink. “I like you better when you’re quiet.”, you smile, watching his eyebrows scrunch up in fury. Once he was done, you let the empty cup drop to the floor. The only sound in the room now was the cup shattering—spreading shards around your feet and Sugilite’s adorable pants. You had to admit, the man could be cute sometimes. Especially when he was this angry. Using your thumb, you wipe what’s left of the alcohol on his mouth, slightly digging into his lips. In response, Sugilite lets out a small whine and he grips your waist with an almost bruising force.
“You-”, he chokes with restrained anger but you instead trap his mouth with yours. Sugilite feels his throat dry as your tongue prods at the entrance of his mouth and slips past his lips. You try not to laugh at his face as your tongue explores his mouth, pulling him even closer. Aeons, he was so cute. Little moans escape the flustered man and you can’t help but feel your heart beat faster.
Faster…you want more…
Your hand palms at the front of his crotch and you feel his bulge start to harden. So eager, so cute. Slowly, you begin to unbutton his pants while your other hand tugs at his hair, pulling him closer even though you both are already as close as you can be, no space left. Eager, you’re so eager. So close.
You slightly chew on his bottom lip as your hand slips into his pants—only to get suddenly pushed away. Your eyes slightly widen and before you can say anything, Sugilite pushes you down on the table, hand covering your mouth and eyes filled with frenzy.
He leans down, breath wetting your skin as he nuzzles into your neck. “Shall we take this,” he presses light kisses down to your chest, each one leaving you wanting more, “Somewhere else?”
Ah, shit.
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𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 ~ 𝟒
༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺
༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺
The move to New York happened faster than you expected. Drew wrapped up his commitments on the film and, true to his word, took some time off to figure things out with you. You found a small apartment in Brooklyn—tiny by any standard but perfect for two people who couldn’t bear to be apart anymore.
At first, it felt like a dream. Drew was there when you woke up, his sleepy smile the first thing you saw every morning. He walked you to the subway on your way to work, insisting on carrying your coffee and kissing you goodbye on the platform.
You introduced him to your favorite haunts—the bagel shop on the corner, the used bookstore where you’d spent countless weekends, the rooftop garden where you went to think. And he brought his world into yours, sharing stories about life on set, showing you his favorite films, and even letting you read an early script he was considering.
But as the weeks passed, the cracks began to show.
Drew had always been confident, charming, and self-assured. But in New York, where you had your own life and your own circle of friends, he sometimes seemed… lost. He wasn’t used to slowing down, to having days without a packed schedule or a clear direction.
One night, you found him sitting on the couch, staring at his laptop.
“What’s wrong?” you asked, sitting beside him.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I guess I just feel… useless. You’re out there working, doing what you love, and I’m here trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing.”
You placed a hand on his knee, your heart aching for him. “Drew, you don’t have to figure it all out right now. This time is about us—about being together. You’ve been working nonstop for years. Maybe it’s okay to take a break.”
He looked at you, his expression softening. “Yeah, but what if I’m not good at this? At being still?”
“You’re not ‘being still,’” you said firmly. “You’re building something here, with me. That matters, too.”
He smiled then, pulling you into his lap. “How do you always know exactly what to say?”
“I don’t,” you said, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “But I know you. And I know you’ll figure this out.”
❥❥❥❥
The next few months were a mix of highs and lows. Drew started auditioning for theater roles, drawn to the idea of performing live, but the rejections stung more than he let on. Meanwhile, your job became more demanding, with long hours and late nights that left little time for the two of you.
One night, you came home to find Drew in the kitchen, a half-burnt dinner on the stove and a guilty look on his face.
“I was trying to make lasagna,” he admitted, gesturing to the mess.
You laughed, wrapping your arms around his waist. “It’s the thought that counts.”
But as you cleaned up together, the stress of the past few weeks bubbled to the surface.
“I miss you,” Drew said suddenly, setting a plate in the sink.
You turned to him, surprised. “I’m right here.”
“Not really,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. “You’re always at work, and when you’re home, you’re exhausted. I get it—it’s not your fault. But I didn’t come here to feel like I’m losing you again.”
His words hit you like a punch to the gut. “Drew, I’m doing this for us. To build a life together.”
“I know,” he said, his hands running through his hair. “But what’s the point if we don’t have time to actually live it?”
Silence hung between you, the weight of his words sinking in.
Finally, you stepped closer, reaching for his hand. “I don’t want to lose us, either. Maybe I need to figure out how to balance this better.”
“And maybe I need to stop putting all this pressure on myself to figure out my next big move,” he admitted. “I think… I just got scared. Scared that if I’m not enough, you’ll realize you don’t need me.”
Your heart broke at his honesty, and you pulled him into a tight embrace. “You are enough, Drew. Always. This isn’t about what you do—it’s about who you are. And I love who you are.”
He held you close, his arms wrapped around you like a lifeline. “I love you, too,” he whispered.
That night, you stayed up talking, making promises to each other to try harder, to communicate better, to always put you two first.
❥❥❥❥
In the months that followed, you found your rhythm. Drew started working on an off-Broadway production, throwing himself into the challenge with his trademark dedication. You scaled back your hours at work, carving out more time for the two of you.
There were still tough days, moments when the city felt too loud or the pressure felt too heavy. But you faced them together, knowing that no matter what, you had each other.
And as you sat in the audience on opening night, watching Drew deliver a performance that left the entire theater breathless, you sat there admiring him, falling in love more than ever before.
༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺
𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @maybanksgirl69 @raeven-marie43 @niktwazny303
#drew starkey#fanfic#drew x reader#rafe#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe imagine#drew starkey x female reader#drew starkey content#drew starkey x you#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey smut#imagine#rafe obx#obx cast
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My Youth is Free - Toxic! Boynextdoor Break Up Scenarios
-> Pairing: afab! Reader x toxic! Boynextdoor
-> Plot: toxic breakup scenarios for each of the members
-> Genre: angst, suggestive (only some, not WH), Sungho and riwoo are misogynistic and controlling, riwoo is a manipulator, Taesan is really cold, anger issues in woonhak’s, fwb! Leehan, Leehan and Taesan are assholes, reader is blunt and swears a lot, use of real names (Sanghyeok, Dongmin, and Donghyun)
-> Warnings: misogyny, swearing
-> Word Count: 5,935 (~800-1200 words per member)
-> Notes: toxic bnd is all that’s been on my mind recently but let me know if you would like a part 2 where they make up with reader 🤭
-> Side Note: I get a lot of my inspirations from songs (like 1 or 2 lines from a song) and obviously 20 was the inspiration for this one but I always forget to link the song in case someone doesn’t know it 🤦🏽♀️ so here is a little edit with the song added anyways enjoy reading~ 😚
༄ ༄ ༄
Sungho:
He couldn't stand the thought of you getting closer to your male coworker. You had recently gotten a new job that required you to work a little later than he did. Sometimes you’d have so much work to do that you’d bring it home to work on, not having had enough time during the workday to get important documents and files finished before their deadline. When you told him that you would be working on a project with a male coworker he was supportive, at first. Of course you guys had total trust in each other, so he didn’t mind you needing to stay later in the office to work with him. But even after your joint project was over, you would still hang out regularly amongst other coworkers. This is what got under his skin.
“You know he wants you, right?”
“Sungho, please. We’re going out with a couple of friends too. I only mentioned his name because you’ve met him before.”
“And the whole time we hung out he was eyeing you down like a piece of candy. C’mon Y/N, seriously? The only reason a guy would hang out with a group of girls is because he wants one of them. You told me that he doesn’t really know the other girls so he’s only going out because you’re there.”
“Yeah, because I’m introducing him to them. I’m the department head so he worked with me but he should know the other people in my department if we’re going to be working together.”
“Im just saying, why would he hang out with you if he didn’t like you?”
“Excuse me? You don’t think I’m fun or interesting enough to hang out with a guy? You think men would only hang out with me because they want to sleep with me?”
“Baby, that’s not what I meant I–”
“Save it. I’m leaving. I’ll be back by 11.”
That was the first conversation of many that led to the break up. It got to a point where you would tell him you were going out and he’d automatically assume you were hanging out with the coworker, throwing a snarky, “don’t come back if you smell like him,” at you before you bitterly slam the door in his face. Until one night you had a work party and you didn’t invite Sungho to come with you, not even mentioning it to him. He only found out because your friends had posted about it.
“So were you ever going to tell me about this? Why didn’t you invite me to come with you?”
Sungho shows you his phone screen with your friend’s post before slamming it on the table.
“You’ve been so insufferable and insecure whenever I bring up anything work-related. If I invited you out tonight you would’ve punched the guy in the face when you saw him.”
“And why is that so bad, huh, Y/N? You don’t want me to punch your boy toy now?”
“PARK SUNGHO HE IS NOT MY BOY TOY AND YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SPEAK TO ME THAT WAY, UNDERSTOOD?”
You angrily throw down your stuff, marching up to him.
“I haven’t done anything. He hasn’t done anything. WE haven’t done anything so why can't you believe me and move on from the fact that I have a male friend? Are you that insecure about me leaving you when I’ve never done anything to betray your trust? Do I mean that little to you that you won't even give me the benefit of the doubt?”
Tears are slowly making their way down your face as you try to wipe them away before smudging your makeup. His expression softens, not realizing how far he’d let his jealousy come.
“Y/N I–”
“Save it, Sungho. You clearly don’t respect me or trust me. I’ll be back later to get some of my things. I’ll stay with my parents until you can figure your shit out. Call me when you’ve gotten some sense back.”
Anger, shock, disbelief. Sungho couldn’t believe that he had let this get so out of hand. Why was he so jealous in the first place? You guys still hung out and had dates every week and you were right; you never gave him any reason to doubt your loyalty to him.
He’d spend the next few days figuring out what it is he wants but more than that, he just wanted to give you your space. You didn’t want to leave so abruptly like that, but his toxic behaviors were driving you mad. Every time he’d spew some bullshit about you and your coworker you’d want to punch him in the face. You needed to give Sungho the time and space to figure out what his problem was, but more than anything you just wanted to be back in his arms.
༄ ༄ ༄
Riwoo:
When you first met Riwoo, it took him some time to get used to your bubbly and outgoing personality. You loved being out and having fun and partying, while he preferred to stay at home. It never bothered you that he didn’t always want to go out with you and it never bothered him that you would always want to go out. It would cause some small tiffs between you two about where date night would take place that week, but other than that, there were no issues with your opposing lifestyles. But somewhere along the way, his attitude about your friends and your constant outings had changed. He would fight it more often, using lame excuses that you would take to avoid any more fighting.
“I heard you’re going out with her (your friend) tonight?”
“Oh yeah, she invited me out after an argument she had with her boyfriend. We’re just going to the food stands so she can vent, nothing crazy.”
“Well, I heard she got into a fight with him because she was showing herself off to other men?”
“I mean, it is summer and she was at the beach? It’s not like she was 'showing herself off to other men,' she just wanted to wear a swimsuit. But apparently there's more to it she’s going to tell me about tonight.”
You were a little taken aback at his statement, not having expected him to find a problem with a woman wearing a bathing suit or moreso, using such a demeaning phrase against another woman, especially at the insinuation of wanting another man’s attention.
He just rolled his eyes and you both awkwardly sat there, until you broke the silence, telling him that you'd be leaving now and that you'd be back later.
Letting the rest of the evening play out, you came back with food for Riwoo, hoping that whatever he was saying earlier was just a result of him being hungry or having an off day and you knew food always made him feel better.
“Honey! I brought you some food!”
You expect him to come running like he usually does when you bring home food, but this time he just walks up to you, phone in hand.
“Thank you baby.”
He sits down and starts eating, waiting for you to tell him about your day.
“Okay so, apparently they’ve been having these issues for a while and this isn’t the first time he’s made some comment about her revealing her body or wearing revealing clothes. Just today he told her that she couldn’t wear jean shorts to meet up with me. Like it's 90 degrees out, what did he want her to wear, fluffy pajama pants?”
“I’m sure he has his reasons for not wanting her to wear revealing clothes in public? Why doesn’t she just respect his wishes?”
“Because he doesn’t have control over what she wears and how she wants to show off her own body? Yeah they’re dating but it’s not like she’s his to claim or anything.”
“Are you sure you should be friends with someone that doesn’t at least try to hear their boyfriend out?”
“Sanghyeok, what the hell are you talking about? What’s gotten into you? Why are you acting like this?”
“Like what? I just mean that I wouldn’t want you to be around people that don’t respect what others say. Who knows? Maybe she’ll start ignoring what you say and just move on to something else. She’s making a big deal over one thing so what if you get into an argument one day and she stops being your friend? I wouldn't want that happening to you.”
He rubs your arm up and down, trying to get you to understand his point of view but you move away from his touch.
“I don’t know why you're talking like that, but I don’t like it.”
You walk away from him, but something in your mind starts reconsidering your entire friendship with your best friend. Was she really so bad for not respecting her boyfriend's wishes over her clothes?
A few more instances arise where Riwoo tries to nicely reason with you on who you can and can’t hang out with, saying things like “I don’t want you to get hurt,” or “I don’t think you should wear that, the men around you might get the wrong idea.” And you slowly found yourself listening to him, so much so to the point where you didn’t have anyone left to hang out with besides him.
You spent days at home, your bright personality dimmed from not having any social interaction outside of your boyfriend. It wasn’t until you got a message from one of your friends, reaching out after you had made an excuse that Riwoo gave you to not hang out with her. It clicked in your brain that your friends had done nothing wrong. It was actually him that was the problem.
“Hey baby, ready for movie night?”
“No, I’m not.”
You stood up from your little blanket cocoon ready to confront him.
“You know what I realized? This whole time, you telling me not to hang out with this person or that doing this is wrong, even telling me what I can and can’t wear? You were just manipulating me this whole time. Why? You don’t think I should do things on my own?”
“Baby, I wasn’t manipulating you I—“
“Do NOT call me baby, you have no right. You don’t care for me and you don’t even love me. If you did you would let me be myself and not this shell of the person I once used to be. If you don’t like how I am then why have we been together this long?”
“Y/N, I was just looking out for you that’s it.”
“Well you can stop looking out for me, we’re done.”
You decide then to leave him, packing your things without turning back. He can tell he’s taken it too far. He was too selfish wanting you all for himself. You deserved happiness and you weren’t going to find that with him.
༄ ༄ ༄
Jaehyun:
The textbook definition of a workaholic. Jaehyun had expressed to you before how important his career as an idol was and that if you couldn’t handle days without seeing him or barely seeing him at all, then a relationship wasn’t the best idea. But you of course, in the optimistic honeymoon phase, denied the hardships of being in a relationship with an idol and agreed to date him anyways. Love was enough, right?
At first, things were great. It was hard, admittedly, having to hide yourself whenever you walked into the building and even from the staff for a while, only being able to meet him in empty conference rooms after somehow managing to sneak up there by yourself. But slowly his members and staff found out and you were in the clear to freely be around each other during his practices. You even brought snacks and lunch for everyone on occasion. But you also working meant that you didn’t get to see each other much. Though this is what you had anticipated, you didn’t think it was going to be as hard as it was.
Jaehyun would be busy hosting or in variety shows or interviews in the morning and then spend the rest of his day at the practice room or the studio. He was allowed to be over at your apartment but even then it was hard only being able to sleep next to him for a couple hours since he would be too tired to engage in anything other than a short conversation whenever he came home. He would always try to call and talk but even that got redundant since he was always so busy.
The lack of physical contact and barely any contact at all was starting to put a strain on your relationship. You would constantly try to get him to rest or stop working but he would insist that his work was too important to stop, often insinuating that it was more important than you.
You would try to visit him whenever possible but it always felt like you were always putting more effort to see him than he would to see you. It all came to a head when he was able to get a day off. The whole group was given time off after nonstop preparations for award shows and their upcoming tours. You were finally able to get your hands on him, innocently and not so much. The night he came home was great, filled with love and passion and all the pent up emotions from the months of strain you had endured. But the next day didn’t hold the same feelings.
Waking up to each other was all that you had asked for since the beginning of your relationship. You’d usually find yourself asleep when he came home and then he’d be gone by the time you woke up. An endless cycle of just barely missing each other was halted for just a day. Assuming that you’d be in his arms the rest of the day, you let him sleep in as you shower and work on breakfast for the both of you, taking your time.
“Good morning baby, it smells amazing in here.”
The cliché back hug while you cooked up eggs was exactly what you had pictured, never wanting this moment to end. After eating you let him rest while you cleaned up a little bit. Once you were done, you were slightly disappointed to have found him in the room playing online games with Donghyun and Sungho.
“Hey baby. I thought we were going to hang out today?”
You say, all cute and pouty.
“I know, baby. I’m only gonna play a couple rounds with them and then I’m all yours, okay?”
He gives you a quick kiss before going back to his game, focus completely shifting as he tried to recover from his last death. You sigh as you walk away. You didn’t want to sound commanding and needy but you’ve barely seen him and wanted to hang out with him.
You kill time by watching shows on Netflix. One hour turns into two and two turns into 4 as he emerges from the room, a disappointed look on his face. Upon hearing the bedroom door open, you turn back to see him.
“I have some bad news…”
“Oh no, Jaehyun, what is it?”
“They called me into the studio just now. Apparently something happened to the usb drive that had a bunch of pre-released tracks on them and they want to see if I can save them.”
You look at him in disbelief, tears welling up in your eyes. Voice broken, you respond,
“C-can’t they call a computer technician or something? Why are they having you go? Do you know how to retrieve the files?”
“Well no but—“
“So why do you have to go then?”
“Y/N…”
He comes closer, giving you a hug as you let your tears stream down your face and into his shirt.
“I’m sorry, I can’t just not go.”
You didn’t want to sound rude or ungrateful, but you couldn’t let your anger build up any longer.
“You just HAD to play games with Donghyun and Sungho huh? Instead of spending time with me.”
You pull away from him, eyes red and angry as tears continue to spill from your eyes and voice cracking in rage.
“They wanted to hop on for a bit and wanted me to join them…”
“You see them EVERYDAY!! I’ve barely seen you because your work is SO important, more important than me and then the ONE day you have off, you choose to spend half the day with the people you see LITERALLY everyday and now you’re coming out here telling me that you have to go BACK to work??? Jaehyun I don’t know how much more of this I can take…”
Tears are slipping down his cheeks as his voice starts to break at his next words,
“Baby I told you that it was going to be hard and that my work is so important. You know I cant say no to them.”
“So you’re choosing work again over me? Just like how you chose your friends over me? And like how you choose everything else in your life over me? Alright, that’s fine.”
You wipe your tears as the sadness dissipates and is replaced by anger. You have no words left to say as you try to walk past him, his hand grabbing your wrist delicately stopping you from walking away.
“Y/N please, that’s not fair. I’m so sorry. You’re so important to me and I know this is hard but can we talk about this when I get back?”
“I’ve given you plenty of chances Jaehyun. You always refuse my help, refuse my offer when I tell you to rest or spend time with me. I have nothing left to say to you.”
You harshly pull your hand away from his grip, closing and locking the bedroom door as Jaehyun gathers himself, washing his face before grabbing his things and heading out to the studio. Maybe love wasn’t enough.
༄ ༄ ༄
Taesan:
Taesan was good at everything. Almost. He was smart, always got good grades and he was very musically talented. He could sing, rap, dance and even play the piano. He was also very determined, attending both college and dance/ singing practices at his entertainment company, KOZ. You knew he was very busy but you shared similar classes and would always pair up together for projects or assignments so not being able to see each other was never an issue. The problems arose when he was stressed beyond belief.
He seemed very chill and nonchalant to strangers, not really showing his mischievous yet funny personality. But you knew him as the fun, lovable, fake emo that was surprisingly affectionate and loved giving you cute couple gifts, like the guitar heart keychain on your bag. But when he was stressed, it was like he shut the rest of the world out, including you. At first you thought he just didn’t know how to manage that much stress yet and would cut him some slack, letting him figure things out on his own. But when his behaviors under said stress persisted even after a couple months of dating, you were starting to get sick of it.
He was good at everything, except telling you how he was feeling. He would text you normally one day and then go no contact for multiple days, even avoiding you during classes. It would irk you the most when you’d see him hanging out with his friends right in front of your face, acting like everything was fine and then ignoring you. Finally fed up with all his antics you waited again until he hit another no contact stress period to confront him.
You both had a big exam coming up. Exams in this class were 20% of your grade, each, so you knew he would be stressed trying to juggle studying and practice. Like you predicted, a week before the exam he stopped messaging you. He didn’t even sit next to you in class, choosing to sit by himself in the corner of the lecture hall, face buried in his laptop and notes. You would find him later in the day at the student center, talking and laughing with his friends, still not having received even a single text from him for the last few days. You decided to take pictures of him with his friends, keeping it as evidence if he tried to deny your accusations. You waited until after the exam was over to message him, “let’s hang out today! I miss you :(,” hoping that your fake excitement was conveyed through the message. You weren’t surprised to see that he had messaged you back after, simply replying with “sure,” which made you even angrier. No talking for a week and the only thing he says back to you is “sure?”
You’re with him in a solo practice room, the small space covered in mirrors on two sides a little claustrophobic for you.
“Dongmin, we need to talk.”
His sigh indicated to you that he knew what you wanted to talk about.
“Alright, let’s get this over with.”
His attitude was already bad, pissing you off even more.
“Let’s get this over with? Why are you acting like this is such a burden on you? Ignoring me, your girlfriend, for a week because you’re stressed studying for an exam and being here at practice but you can hang out with your friends no problem?”
“Y/N you’re being ridiculous I wasn’t hanging out with my friends and I have been stressed, you know that.”
“Oh really?”
You scoff, pulling up the picture of him laughing with a couple of his friends, the date being that of 2 days ago. His face doesn’t change, if anything he looks more uninterested than when the conversation started, not even caring that he was caught in his lie.
“You’re really gonna stand here and tell me that you haven’t been hanging out with your friends all week when you have? Why can’t you just tell me why you don’t message me, why you ignore me whenever you have too much on your plate. All I ask is that you communicate but you never do!”
“You’re just too much to deal with.”
That one sentence shut you up, tears on the brink of falling from your eyes. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.
“What?”
“Recently you’ve been too much to deal with. Especially when I’m stressed. I can’t handle you and all my work and practice all together. And you know I’m not good at communicating. I don’t like to talk about my feelings.”
It was the way that he had no emotion behind his sentences that made the lump in your throat even bigger. When did he stop caring about you? When did he stop loving you?
“Where is all this coming from? I thought everything was fine? You always acted normal after your little ghosting.”
“You never saw that as a problem? That I would ghost you and pretend that everything was fine after? At first I was just learning how to juggle everything at once. But after a while, I started to get tired of this. I guess I just didn’t know how to say it.”
He was so cold about it that you didn’t know how to react. Heart broken into a million pieces, you couldn’t believe what you were hearing.
“You should’ve told me a while ago. Before things got this far. It’s been 8 months and you couldn’t tell me that you didn’t want to be together?”
“Sorry. Like I said, I don’t talk about my feelings or emotions. You should’ve known that.”
You couldn’t stand to be in that suffocating room with him any longer, shoving him out of the way as you bolt out the door, tears falling haphazardly as you exit the building. You were so lost, so hurt that he was feeling this way and never said a thing and yet he still managed to make you feel like shit about it. You wipe your tears away, removing the keychain he gave you from your bag and throwing it down to the ground, stomping on it.
“Fuck you, Han Dongmin.”
༄ ༄ ༄
Leehan:
The undeniably attractive, oblivious and kind hearted man that everyone loves. He was incredibly popular on your small campus, loved by men and women alike. So you were very surprised to find that he had taken an interest in you. You wouldn’t say you had a crush on him but of course you couldn’t deny his beauty. You weren’t shy per se but you didn’t put yourself out there. You had your circle of friends and did your part in the clubs you were in but that was it.
Everyone knew him as the lovely fish guy, always talking about his pet fish and what he hopes to achieve in his tank in the future. You had only ever seen him at your school’s aqua life club, as he was the president of it. You worked with him before but you didn’t know him that well.
“Hey Y/N.”
There were a couple of other people helping to organize the fundraiser your club was hosting, Donghyun came to speak to you first.
“Hey Donghyun, how’ve you been?”
“I’m doing well. I actually had a question to ask you.”
“Oh? What’s up? Did you need help with something for the club?”
He nervously scratches the nape of his neck before flashing his bright smile at you.
“Actually, I was wondering if you would want to go out with me sometime? I completely understand if you don’t want to but I just thought I’d ask.”
You were taken aback, not really expecting to have been asked on a date by him, but you agreed nonetheless. Which brought you to your current situation.
Donghyun would constantly get invited out to parties by his friends or girls who thought they had a chance with him. You guys had more of a friends with benefits relationship, occasionally going on dates whenever he asked. But you inevitably caught feelings for him. You were scared to confront him about them, worried about what his reaction might be. The next time you saw him was when he invited you out to dinner. After eating, you went back to your apartment. Usually the time after your date was spent feeling each other up, as per your arrangement, but today felt different. Dognhyun could feel the tension radiating off of you so he waited until you were back inside to ask you about it.
“Everything okay? You seemed a little tense back at the restaurant?”
You fiddled with your jewelry, his nervous smile making you even more nervous.
“Yeah it's just… there's something we need to talk about…”
“Oh, no. Don’t tell me you have a boyfriend now and have to end things with me? If you waited to tell me that after our date then that's just cruel.”
His laugh is lighthearted, almost mocking, as if the possibility of you getting a boyfriend and breaking things off him was unlikely. You reciprocate his laugh nonetheless.
“No… I actually think we need to end things for a different reason.”
His joking manner turned serious as the words left your mouth, sitting on the couch and pulling you down with him.
“Did I do anything to upset you? I like this arrangement we have and if there's anything I can do to fix it please tell me.”
“No Donghyun, it's not you. It's just… I like you. I know that's against what our arrangement was about but I can’t help it.”
“Y/N… you know I can’t date you. It’d be too… weird. I don't meant weird but you know, I’m the president of aqua life and I have a big name here and-”
“And being with me would ruin your reputation so you decided to just sleep with me instead?”
He fell silent, confirming your previous statement and you felt your heart drop into your stomach. How had you not known how he truly felt this whole time?
“Why take me out on all these dates then if you strictly wanted it to be just sex? It’s not like everyone in the club doesn’t know anyways so this ruining your reputation bullshit doesn’t make much sense. Or were you just hoping that things would work out and you could throw me away when you got bored?”
“I’m sorry, I just don’t want a relationship with you. I took you out on dates to be nice so we could keep things like this between us. If I had known you were going to catch feelings for me I wouldn’t have done all this.”
“You’re such an asshole. You were giving me mixed signals this whole time, taking me out and treating me like a girlfriend, holding my hand and shit and you expected me not to catch feelings? Just so I’d stay fucking you in hopes that I dont realize just how much you suck? You’re a dick, Donghyun.”
He didn’t have it in him to try to argue with you or calm you down, getting up from the sofa.
“I feel like I’ve said a lot of things that were taken out of context. If you would like to talk more about this then let me know. But for the record, I do apologize for all of this. I wouldn’t have done it if I knew this is how things would go.”
“You can take your apology and shove it up your ass, Donghyun.”
You basically push him out of your apartment, slamming the door in his face. You waited until you heard his footsteps walk away to silently sob to yourself for not seeing his true colors sooner.
༄ ༄ ༄
Woonhak:
A normally very sweet yet childish boy that had so much love to give you. His passive aggressive tendencies towards his friends would always make you laugh, his embarrassment at being babied by them entertaining to you. He could be the most perfect boyfriend ever, when he didn’t have anger issues. Even though he would never admit to it, Woonhak was very sensitive and it was very apparent when he was angry or ticked off. It didn’t help that he couldn’t control himself when he was angry, often opting to yell at the person that made him mad.
The first time you saw him angry, he was in an argument with Jaehyun. With their comeback approaching quickly, tensions between all the boys were high and all the criticisms were getting to them. While the others had more sensibility and maturity when it came to controlling their anger, Woonhak would just explode. You had walked into the practice room to deliver dinner to the boys, a simple meal you got from the food stand down the road. You heard yelling come from the practice room but you just assumed it was an instructor giving them directions for their comeback stage. But upon walking in, you see Woonhak and Jaehyun fighting, screaming about the performance.
You were quite soft spoken yourself, so hearing Woonhak yell like that scared you, making you drop the food on the floor, alerting the two boys of your presence. They both looked at you seething, but Jaehyun’s expression softened up when he saw you there, standing frozen as the food had started leaking from the bag and onto the floor. Woonhak looks at you but just huffs and walks away, probably embarrassed that you had to see that. You slowly clean up the food in shock, Jaehyun apologizing while helping you clean.
You go to see Woonhak after and see that he had tear stains down his cheeks, visible through his messed up makeup. Thinking you were Jaehyun, he started yelling again, asking to be left alone before looking back at you, seeing the tears in your eyes in fear of being yelled at by him. He quickly apologizes to you before walking away, mad at himself for being such an idiot and blowing up at you for no reason. You were scared and upset, not being able to handle being yelled at from anyone, especially your boyfriend.
You had waited for him to come to you and when he did, he immediately apologized again and hugged you, asking for your forgiveness. You of course said yes, as long as he doesn’t yell at you ever again. He agreed and you guys were fine for a while. After the comeback and promotions, they were right back to practicing for another comeback plus the first part of their tour. You had learned that Woonhak just needed space when preparing for comebacks, so you always gave him distance when he was at his busiest, but recently, everything seemed to piss him off, including you.
You would be at his dorm, preparing food for the boys after practice and he would come home mad, stressed and tired. You’d politely offer him a try of the food you are making, only to be swatted away by him and ignored, making you feel less than adequate. He did this a couple times and your patience slowly dwindled, until you met your breaking point.
A particularly rough afternoon had resulted in him getting into a fight with Taesan over lyrics to their new song. He was being reprimanded for trying to add lyrics that were shot down multiple times. You just so happened to get caught in crossfire, and he would blame you, saying that it was your constant need for his attention that distracted him. Upon hearing this you felt the tears well up in your eyes.
“Is that what you think of me? A distraction to your music career for simply wanting to be by your side?”
Taesan looked like a deer in headlights, excusing himself from the situation, afraid of feeling your wrath.
“Y/N, you know that's not what I mean, I’m just frustrated.”
“That's the issue Kim Woonhak, you’re ALWAYS frustrated. You're always stressed and there's always something wrong. Anytime I try to help you, you treat me like I’m a burden and I can never be good enough to help you. You always ignore me when I’m here so I’ve stopped asking for your attention in hopes that you’d come to me for once but you never do. Do you even want to be with me anymore?”
Tears were flowing down his cheeks not being able to hold them back any longer after your confession.
“Y-Y/N, i love you so much. I’m sorry I’m so busy… I want to be with you I swear I can treat you right I just need some time during this comeback and–”
“I’ve given you nothing but time, Woonhak. I don’t have any more of my time to give you. I can’t stay here while you yell at me and I can’t stand the fact that you think I’m the one holding you back. So I won’t be here to hold you back anymore, Kim Woonhak. We’re done.”
You can no longer hold your tears back, letting them roll down your face and onto the ground as you slowly pack up your belongings, giving him one last hug before leaving, wishing him luck on his upcoming comeback and tour.
#starrihan#boynextdoor#bnd#bonedo#boynextdoor angst#bnd angst#toxic boynextdoor#toxic bnd#sungho#park sungho#toxic sungho#riwoo#lee riwoo#toxic riwoo#jaehyun#myung jaehyun#toxic jaehyun#taesan#han taesan#toxic taesan#leehan#kim leehan#toxic leehan#woonhak#kim woonhak#toxic woonhak#sungho angst#riwoo angst#jaehyun angst#taesan angst
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when you reach me
pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader
word count: 1.1k
warning(s): main character death, grief, spiritual connection. this one’s pure angst.
summary: in which you mourn the love of your life.
jj maybank masterlist
Tears cloud your vision, preventing you from reading the words on the page. This is it, you think. The moment of closure you still haven’t allowed yourself to have, nothing but guilt clouding your mind since you left him. Not since you, supposedly the love of his life and the keeper of his secrets, abandoned him in Morocco. His worst fear in life come true in his death.
No matter what you tell yourself, it will never be enough. There’s not a single magic spell or genie in a bottle that could bring him back. There’s nothing– that’s good for you anyway– that will ease the pain of losing him. You remember the sadness and the frustration you felt watching him on the boat, drinking the days away because of a purpose he lost sight of. Now, that memory resonates with you more than ever. You know the feeling, it’s resignation.
The only thing that motivated you to pick up a pen and write was the fact that you owed it to him to send your feelings out there, somewhere into the universe. The tranquility of the water at night welcomed you from where you sat on the dock. You figured this would be one of the hardest places to be, overwhelming you with the reminder of what’s happened. You don’t need to be reminded, you can feel it. In every breath there’s an ache in your heart and a bruise to your bones. You can feel him here, ready and waiting to receive you. It’s the closest you’ll ever get to leaving flowers at a graveyard after all.
Rolling your letter, watching as the ink disappears with each movement of the paper is enough to make your throat swell and tears brim in your eyes. Sliding the message into the bottle is excruciating. Taking your deepest thoughts of him and sending them away. As if someone is stripping a child of their favorite toy, infringing on the emotional attachment they have to it. That’s exactly what this feels like, words in the shape of your heartstrings that you badly want to let go of, yet can’t help but stay close to. Until you remember, these words don’t belong to you. They belong to him, wherever he is. Gently, you press your lips to the bottle, giving a kiss goodbye to the metaphor it holds. JJ Maybank, your heart in human form once upon a time, is gone from your reach forever.
These waters are the closest thing you have now. When you look into them, only then can you remember the beautiful days you shared with him here, free of the anguish that locks your heart up in chains. The days of diving, swimming, kissing him in these waters, are long gone. A place where the world used to wait, where the moment would never end if you could have things your way. Setting the bottle free into these waters, you feel nothing but uncertainty that you’ll ever be the same. Watching the bottle float away and out of sight, you can’t help but wonder if he’s somewhere out there feeling the same thing.
-
‘I know I’ve waited a while to do this, JJ. I’m sorry. I’ve been in shock, in pain, angry enough to set the world on fire, numb enough to not feel the flames as they burn. You need to know that I’m sorry. I’m not who I used to be, I’m not the person you said you love with your last breath. I can’t be that person anymore after your killer released all of his hell and gave it to me. I can’t look in the mirror without seeing a shell of who I once was. I can’t take care of the others when I don’t remember how to take care of myself. I’m sorry that I have broken all of the promises between us. You wouldn’t want this for me and I don’t either. But here we are. Here I am really, it’s just me now. Sometimes I forget that, things should be different.
Someone asked me out on a date about a week ago, I felt like punching him in the face. If it weren’t for the others, I would have. If anything, they are taking care of me. I know you want me to be happy. For some people that means moving on, lighting a new torch with the one you carry for a past love. I’ve come to accept that I’m just not capable of that. What would make me happy about looking into another’s eyes and seeing yours? How could I feel safe from another’s touch if it isn’t yours? Our love made me believe that my heart could never break. I was wrong. I was so very wrong. Maybe that’s cynical of me, but I witnessed your life come to its end, I deserve to be. A part of my life ended, too.
I wish I could keep believing in everything that brought us together, but I can only remember everything that tore us apart. I hate it when people tell me that someday I’ll find love again. I do have someone I love, but not in a way that their eyes can see. They don’t understand that I don’t want to know a life without you. I’ve been told that each day gets a little better. They’re wrong. My heart breaks every day that life goes on without you. I loved you for practically your entire life, how am I supposed to be okay knowing that you loved me for only a part of mine? I don’t want to wake up one day and remember you only exist in my memory, that you’re only a shadow playing tricks on me.
I can’t make any promises to you. A part of me never wants to forgive you for leaving. The best I can do is thank you for showing me what it means to love someone, to know that I’m only one half of one soul. For giving me a reason to laugh and smile. It is because of these things, that makes you the reason why I scream and cry. There’s so much I wish you were here to do, so much I wish we could still do together. I miss you, JJ. I don’t think I’ll ever stop. I’m trying to learn about who I am without you. I don’t know if I’ll ever find out, but please just know that I’m trying. Every morning I wake to an empty bed, every time I want to shatter the mirror in front of me, I keep trying. For you, I’ll never stop. You didn’t have a choice nor a chance, and I’d be damned if I didn’t take mine. I love you.’
Y/n
💌: had this in my drafts for months now, really ever since watching the obx 4 finale :,) it was nice while it lasted right? thanks for reading!
#jj maybank#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank one shot#jj maybank x you#jj maybank x y/n#jj x reader#jj x you#jj x y/n#jj maybank angst#outer banks#obx#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks fic#obx fanfiction#obx fic#outer banks imagine#obx imagine#outer banks angst#outer banks season 4#obx season 4#obx4#obx 4 part 2
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I'd say it peeves him at times but then privately to himself he has to admit that he does enjoy it quite a bit. It's not that he doesn't feel safe by himself, or that Wilbur provides much safety. He's also perfectly capable of reaching anything he could need, maybe with a little bit of effort sometimes, but hey, you learn to adapt over the years, so it's fine. He doesn't need or want someone to protect him or baby him - god knows he's been seen as weak more than'd be enough for a thousand people. He's a capable, strong man, who finally has power instead of constant dismissals and he enjoys that change - it feels right and comfortable and safe. And that part isn't changing.
But, well, to himself he does have to admit that being able to just sink into a hug, face against the man's chest, wrapped by the spacious coat feels pretty damn perfect when he needs rest...
And having Wilbur there to just hand him something sure is convenient...
And being able to comfortably lean fully against him when standing somewhere and waiting for something sure is nice and more comfortable than having to stand straight or shifting all the time...
And when he does need comfort, it is pretty nice to be able to disappear practically entirely...
And, well, the bit oversized jumper is kinda comfy to wear around the house...
And the way he can feel Wilbur melt, weight leaning nearly entirely on Quackity whenever Q pulls him down certainly is adorable, and the way his knees bend all by themselves is only visible so nicely because of the height difference, which is altogether much better than making him look up...
And seeing how his body contorts more than it would otherwise definitely isn't not pretty to look at....
TLDR. We might all agree that Quackity isn't the one wanting head pats or needing someone to protect him* or the one getting pinned against the wall, BUT ultimately Quackity is into men, and I think most people who are into men will inevitably enjoy their partner being traditionally masculine, at least sometimes
* I'm not infantalising Wilbur, his body is just rotten and all he's got going for him is scary dog looks cause one good punch could probably break his bones/hj/lh
*consider this could include that he likes breaking down somebody physically larger than himself
#“one punch could probably break his bones” I say while writing chapter 4 of IUTMTM smh where's the consistency#Not only did he break no bones he gained one wink wink--#quackbur headcanons#fernless bastard#tntduo#dsmp#tnt duo#quackbur#quackity#dream smp#tntblr#wilbur soot#c!wilbur#c!tnt duo#c!tntduo#c!quackity#c!quackbur
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Takaaki: *eating and thinking while humming*
Kiyotaka: What are you thinking about, Father?
Takaaki: Oh, nothing, Son.
Takaaki: *thinking about stabbing Mondo in the chest 28 times for no reason*
#he'd always think about the many ways to kill Mondo and how to get away with it#for no reason tho#he likes Mondo#but sometimes he just wants to punch him in the face#he loves Mondo as a soon to be son-in-law tho#Daiya would he disappointed in his husband if he knew what he was thinking#takaaki ishimaru#kiyotaka ishimaru#mondo owada#28 STAB WOUNDS - Connor the Android sent by Cyberlife#danganronpa
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I love the vocal nuance in this exchange, but also posting this for my differences posts because this is one of the changes that infuriates me the most. Yuri didn't threaten Ioder, did not threaten him with a weapon, and just said he'd punch him in a lazy, half joking voice (half joking as in, he really doesn't want to hear that - that's just his way of saying so; but that's not the voice of someone who is super angry and threatening).
My other huge grievance is that this is a recurring issue between them in the dub. Yuri is pretty much always vocally rude to Ioder. Ioder has done nothing to wrong him or anyone and has only ever done good for the people where he's able to.
Yet despite Ioder being nothing but sincere, honest and polite with Yuri, in fact even happy to see him here and there, dub Yuri is outright tonally rude to him leading right up this scene where he threatens Ioder in this dark voice. Meanwhile he's actually just supposed to be… lazily telling Ioder he'll punch him in his Yuri Lowell way of saying "I don't want to hear that".
The dub really just wanted to turn Yuri into this dark edgelord and I hate that for my goofy, silly boy.
#GTF Vesperia Clips#honestly JP Yuri talks abt punching ppl often enough that it's like... this should have been an easy tl#and like honestly wtf is with the dub having Yuri at Ioder's absolute THROAT every time they talk#I'm serious when I say dub Yuri genuinely pisses me off sometimes bc he's an asshole for NO reason#it's not cool. I'm not rooting for him. I'm rooting for someone to punch him in the face for being an ass#JP Yuri would love to do it honestly he's always up for punching ppl it's a recurring theme for /him/#I've never wanted to punch JP Yuri in the face. I've wanted to punch dub Yuri in the face multiple times#that's enough for me to recognize that the dub took more than just ''creative liberties'' with the loc#it SUCKS too bc the dub in and of itself isn't bad. I've said this before but#it really is primarily Yuri and his absolute ATTITUDE problem /and/ the way the dub treats Flynn and puts him down constantly#and unfortunately often uses Yuri to do it... when they're not having Flynn himself do it#all always in areas that never even happened originally. they just literally made it up#still not over how they had Flynn basically berate himself by saying ''like a /good knight/'' at Yormgen#the dub very clearly had a /narrative/ bias against imperial figures/knights that wasn't in the original#what was the reason to drop Sodia calling Yuri ''sir'' at Aurnion? there wasn't one!#but Sodia BaD so we can't possibly let anyone see her character development and have to hide it from dub players!#unfortunately for me the dub not being bad in and of itself truly is trumped by#its treatment of Yuri and Flynn as characters and the way the game narratively directs players#for me it really is THAT BAD that it's stronger than the rest of the dub being just fine#and it really truly honestly RUINS the entire dub for me bc I love Yuri and Flynn and hate seeing them treated like that#I mean literally the whole point of me making those text posts is bc of my love for Yuri lol#and it's so sad and hard to see dub players not get the same Yuri experience simply bc... they don't even know#a lot of people didn't even realize how different he was and like... I get loving Troy's acting#but again Troy isn't the problem here. I don't want a dub that treats my favorites the way it does#I WISH Troy could have voiced Yuri the way he really is. in some way for me it feels very lonely#bc like the casual person I pass by who knows Vesp isn't likely to have not played the dub you know??#so it's like... I wanna talk abt Yuri but we aren't even talking abt the same Yuri#nearly outta tags lol but yeah it just... makes me SO sad that they did all this to those two
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omg PLEASE can i steal the line about hoffman being wasted as a detective because of his mouth because i am ~ losing my sweet mind at strahm treating him like a whore and hoffman is there like :) I've broken his brain :)
friend. my dear fellow hoffreak. it's not stealing if i'm offering it to you in a silver platter, i want my brainrot and slutshaming to infect as many people as possible, my horny thoughts a new disease. mistreating hoffman disorder. it has no cure.
accurate depiction of mark hoffman bamboozling special agent peter strahm by the shitty break room coffee machine:
#i'm always here to conjure up the nastiest kinkiest hoffstrahm possible 🫡🫡🫡#at ur service coffinshipping nation#markie pookie so proud of himself that strahm's incapable of being professional bc he's either thinking of punching him or fucking him fr#funny shenanigans like mark forgot smth in a crime scene and he distracts strahm from it by taking advantage of the situation to remind.#peter how much he likes his mouth. he was already squatting to get a look on the mangled body....#peter comes close behind him. he just. casually rests his hand behind his knee. for support some would assume. mark can be clumsy sometimes.#oh. but peter freezes. mark keeps talking abt the body. strahm's aswering on automatic. mark turns to face him and looks up. so. close.#still squatting. at perfect height that his mouth's way too close and his hand goes up to the thigh...... gripping. peter thinks hoffman's#insane. clearly he's fucked up in the head if he wants to fuck now. amongst this much viscera. but. the bastard licks his lips.#'whats on ur mind special agent strahm?' and damn him. he's good at corrupting at least. peter's professionalism is suffering.#I FANFIC-ED AGAIN#now in the tags#mark hoffman#peter strahm#hoffstrahm#coffinshipping#sawposting
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i had a dream that i made little cards that say "THEY!" on them that i handed out to people at work who got my pronouns wrong, immediately after they got it wrong. and in smaller text (or on the back) it said "i don't want an apology, i want you to do better" or "don't say you're sorry, DO BETTER" and ..... i kind of want to do it. maybe i'll get some moo cards made lmao
various scenarios included:
me slamming it down on a desk in front of them.
instead i had stickers, would slowly peel one off while they watched, and stick it on it on them.
handing out a quarter sheet piece of paper based on the 'i caught being good' tags we'd get in kindergarten which said 'i got caught misgendering hallie/my coworker'. it would have their name and date on it and a giant 🙁 face. i had them as a pad of paper and would hold up a finger to say 'wait a second', dramatically pull it out of my back pocket, take my pen out of another pocket, slowly fill it out in front of them, and hand it to them while staring them in the eyes.
getting a whiteboard for the outer side of my cubicle wall that said '[days] since i was misgendred' (with a bonus by saying 'last offender: [name]'
i also dreamt that i got into trouble for it because i was making people feel bad and was 'creating a hostile work environment'. i was just like.... okay and how do you think i feel? and my boss shut up real fuckin quick. dunno if that would be the case irl but if that does happen i can only dream.
#tired of the people who say 'i'm trying but i'm going to make mistakes'#ok sure i definitely mess up sometimes too but when it's not even close to 50/50 let alone merely uncommon ............. fuck you#what's sad is it's all people i like and it hurts so much#in the dream it the cards also said something about how i'm not a girl. not a lady. not a woman. stop saying that word to me ...#... in plural when i'm with female coworkers. about half the time i say 'not a lady' and only about half the time it's acknowleged#or that one who constantly posts female-empowering images on ig which are alienating bc it's clearly very binary#and getting comments like 'well it applies to you to!!!' why bc i have a pussy? fuck off#and she'll sometimes say 'thank you for your patience' (what patience) or 'have patience with me' (no.)#i've also thought of holding up my name tag in their faces bc my previous boss had it specially made for me#it's got my name position and pronouns#same boss tho..... he was REALLY consistent about using my pronouns but one day used she/her three times in a row before eventually...#... correcting himself and the next day i told him that really sucked especially from him and he later told me i should have been nicer...#... about it. i was PISSED. i said 'well then how should i have said it?' i don't even remember his answer i just know i wanted to go...#... off on him SO BADLY bc he said it 'hurt his feelings'. well too fucking bad bc every time i'm misgendered it makes me want to...#...die inside a little and feels like at the very least a tiny punch to the gut but that felt like being stabbed esp since it was a new hir#he also said 'ok but i corrected myself' yeah AT THE END after doing it THREE TIMES and that's not the point here#anyway lol this dream definitely stirred up shit unfortunately but i'm serious when i say i might actually have these made#like both my internal email and external emails have my pronouns in them (i had to campaign for this btw so thank you me)#but i recently added my own custom signature with 'they/them' in it that has a link about using pronouns correctly#me#lgbtq#nonbinary
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i find the fact that barton is SUCH a hater that he even judges copycat killers who are committing crimes because they admire him for whatever reason strangely kind of funny and also diabolical. because how are you going to judge someone for doing something that is intentionally pretty close to what you're doing, but act like you can't see all the wrong that you're doing. like it makes me think this man's blinders should be PAID for how big they are lmaooo.
but i'm being so serious with y'all when i say that barton's first thought whenever he hears that someone is conducting killings like his is usually something along the lines of ' ew. ' and it is also a thing that he is so proud that he will kill or send his daughter to kill any copycats that he attracts once he founds out who they are, like OMG. you'd think that barton might be at least a little bit intrigued as to why they admire him, but NOPE. he just wants them slain and yet ( this is where the diabolical part comes in, y'all ) he will approach them like he wants to work with them because they show ' potential ' or whatever and then whenever they get all excited and ask him what he wants them to do first because, 'yay, the totally not evil guy ( total sarcasm here ofc LOL ) that i admire wants to take me under his wing!'
barton will literally just go ' oh, yeah. psyche! uhh i was actually lying, the first and last act that you can do for me is die ' before he CACKLES at his own remark and kills them like uhh. sir... why are you like this? ☠️ JSJSJ i mean, like i said in a previous post, he is so unserious sometimes at such messed up moments like this that it makes me wonder whether he is constantly trolling; or if some of this behavior of his is actually genuine. which would actually be sort of scary to think about because that would make him even more of a menace in a way
#OF MONSTERS AND MEN: musings.#JSJSJ i know that none of y'all asked for the return of unserious barton™ but this just popped up in my head and i#he is so? devious for no reason?? like taking the effort to make someone think that you want to work with them even though there is so many#thing's wrong with that for obvious reasons and then doing a complete 180 on them / being like ' oh no i was just joking about that. sorry-#you have to die now ' is JSJSJ ☠️ and then whenever he walks away from their corpse he's just humming along to a lady gaga or something#like he didn't just stab someone is... OOF. i mean sure they were not a good person themselves bc they were trying to copy a literal serial#killer but barton really does some people wrong sometimes. and he thinks it's funny all the while like somebody pleaseee punch him in that-#god awful prideful smirk that he probably has on his face after killing his copycats bc he totally deserves it AHHH#tw: mentions of murder.
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