#despite barely knowing where the difference is even | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spencessocks · 2 days ago

Note

bucky AND spencer??!!! are you my brain? my brain has a tumblr? but seriously im so happy you exist.

i was originally coming to say how in ‘through the silence’ the theme and the conversation could be the same (okay maybe just similar) with post prison spencer x reader and how he is trying to get back to reality and leave prison behind

love you xx

a/n: omfg what... im literally going to eat ur face... this sort of got a little longer than i intended and it took me a while because i was busy with work so im sorry!😭😭 but thank u so much omg i was reeling from this ask, ur so sweet and ilysm!!!

what remains

summary: after spencer returns from prison, the trauma he endured drives a wedge between him and the one person who loves him most.

pairing: postprison!spencer reid x reader

wordcount: 6.8k

warnings: sad spencer, sad reader, everyones sad, reader drinks like a sip of wine

the apartment is quiet when spencer walks in. it’s late—again. you don’t know where he goes, but he never offers, and you’ve stopped asking.

he drops his keys onto the counter with a dull clink, his shoulders heavy with exhaustion, and you watch from your place on the couch, heart aching at the sight of him. he looks different now. he's been home for months, but the man who walked through your door after prison isn’t the same one who left.

“hey,” you say gently, closing your book and setting it aside.

he glances at you but doesn’t hold your gaze for long. “hey.”

you swallow down the lump in your throat. “did you eat?”

“i'm not hungry.” his answer is clipped, automatic, the same response he’s given you almost every night since he’s been back.

you knew it wouldn’t be easy. that things would be different and he wouldn’t be the same. you had told yourself that over and over in the days leading up to his return, had braced yourself for the changes.

but you'd had hope—hope that, with time, things would settle. that he would come back to you—not just physically, but in the ways that mattered. that he would find his way back to the man he used to be, the man who used to curl up beside you on the couch, rambling about his latest case or a book he was reading. the man who used to laugh, used to smile, used to pull you into his arms like you were the safest place in the world.

but you had underestimated the impression this whole ordeal would leave on him.

it wasn't just in the way he carried himself, the way exhaustion clung to his frame or how the light in his eyes had dimmed. it was deeper than that. it was in the way he recoiled from touch when he used to seek it, in the way his voice lacked the excitement and curiosity it once held. in the distance that stretched between you, widening a little more each day, despite your best efforts to close it.

prison had carved something out of him, something you weren’t sure could ever be replaced. he had been home for months, but a harsh reality was starting to settle in you—that some wounds don’t heal the way you expect them to. some stay raw, lingering beneath the surface, invisible until they make themselves known in quiet moments—in the silence at the dinner table, in the way he avoids your gaze, in the way he flinches at your touch, in the walls he keeps building no matter how hard you try to tear them down.

he didn’t talk about what happened in there, and you didn’t press—even if sometimes curiosity clawed at you. but every laconic response, every empty stare, every night he disappeared without explanation told you more than words ever could. he was still there, trapped in a place you couldn’t seem to reach, and no matter how badly you wanted to, you weren’t sure you ever would.

you exhale slowly, measuring your words before speaking. "spencer, you know what i'm going to say." your voice is soft, careful, but it still makes him flinch, just barely.

"i'm fine," he mutters, turning away from you.

you hesitate, just for a moment, before the words slip out. a quiet, almost embarrassed whisper in the stillness of the room.

"will you at least sit with me for a little while?"

you regret the question the second it leaves your mouth, second-guessing yourself as soon as the vulnerability hits you. it sounds so small, so simple—sit with me, like it’s not asking for much, but in a way, it feels like you’re begging. you feel humiliation crawl up your neck.

"we don't have to talk," you add quickly, trying to soften the weight of your words. "we can just—"

"i'm tired," he interrupts, voice hollow. he’s already moving toward the bedroom, like he can't get away fast enough.

you stare blanky at him, his back already turned to you. you don't say anything. you can't. the words get stuck somewhere in your throat, tangled up with the shock and the sting of his dismissal. you just sit there, still as stone, the weight of his words settling over you like a thick, suffocating fog.

it shouldn't surprise you—this response, this distance, the way he shuts you out without a second thought. it’s been happening for weeks now, a slow unraveling of something that once felt unbreakable. and yet, it does surprise you.

because you still hoped—that he would just sit with you. that it couldn't possibly be that bad that your own husband couldn't sit on the the same goddamn couch as you.

you don’t know if your lack of response matters. maybe it does. maybe that’s why he hesitates in the doorway, fingers gripping the frame as if he's weighing his options. for a second, you think he might turn around, might give you something—anything. but then, just as quickly, he lets go and disappears into the darkness of the bedroom.

you sit there, motionless, as the door to the bedroom clicks shut behind him. the sound feels final, sharp.

the interaction plays in your head. "i'm tired."

the look on his face—or the lack of one. there’s nothing there. no fight, no frustration, not even the faintest trace of a desire to make things right.

you blink, once, twice, trying to shake the fog from your brain, but the shock is still there, thick in your chest. it’s like a pulse, steady and unrelenting, buzzing through your veins. you don’t know what to do with it. how to process it.

at this point, you can hardly recognize yourself. the person you used to be—before all this. you would have never let spencer walk away from that. you would’ve confronted him, spoken your truth, demanded that he listen. you were an opinionated person, it wasn't like you to let someone walk over you—spencer liked that about you. you would’ve never felt embarrassed by something so simple, so vulnerable, said to the man you loved.

the anger bubbles up, creeping through the shock like a slow poison, and suddenly, your skin feels tight. it feels wrong. how dare he? how can he just walk away, leave you in this empty room, in this awful, suffocating silence, after everything you’ve been through together?

surely, you wouldn't do this to him. that thought had crossed your mind before, only to be quickly pushed away by the reminder that you couldn't possibly know what he was going through—what he felt in that place.

but now, the thought clung to you, insistent, refusing to be ignored and with it came another. maybe he didn’t know how to let go of you—maybe he was too afraid to say the words, so instead, he kept hurting you without even realizing it. maybe he thought pulling away was easier than facing the truth. if the roles were reversed, you'd seek him out, wanting his comfort, his presence. so why wasn't he doing the same for you? why was he so unwilling to lean on you—when he had done it a million times before?

the pulse in your neck quickens, blood rushing, and you grip the edge of the couch, knuckles white. you don't even realize you're standing now, the instinct to do something, anything, pushing you forward. your breath comes quick and shallow as frustration and disbelief twist inside you like a knot that you can't untangle.

what are you supposed to do with this? what are you supposed to do when your own husband looks at you like you’re nothing—like you’re some kind of inconvenience he just can’t deal with tonight?

your body moves on its own, your legs carrying you to the door as if they have a will of their own—pyjamas and slippers be damned—the front door slams shut behind you with an almost violent finality. the apartment feels suffocating now, the weight of his absence, of his rejection, too much to bear. you need to leave.

you don’t bother to grab your phone. what would be the point? there’s nothing to say to him anymore—if he would even call. not when you’re standing on the edge of something you can’t even explain to yourself, a frustration and sadness mixing into something unrecognizable.

you walk fast, too fast, the cold air biting at your skin, and it helps. the briskness of the night, the sting of it, gives you a sense of purpose, something to focus on other than the gnawing emptiness inside you. you don’t want to sit in that silence any longer, don’t want to stew in your thoughts, trapped in that apartment where the echoes of your broken attempts at connection are suffocating.

jj’s place isn’t far—just a few blocks—but it might as well be a world away. the walk feels like an eternity, but it’s the only thing you can control right now. you don't have to think about spencer. you don’t have to think about him.

you find yourself at jj’s door, your breath coming out in white clouds, and for the first time tonight, you feel a brief flicker of something approaching relief. you knock twice, hard, before pulling back and pressing your forehead against the doorframe, closing your eyes, letting the coolness of it ground you. what the hell am i doing?

when she opens the door, her eyes widen at the sight of you, but she doesn’t ask. she doesn’t need to. she just steps aside, pulling you in with a soft, understanding smile.

“you okay?” she asks gently, though you know she already knows the answer.

you nod, but only because you don't trust your voice not to break if you speak. she doesn’t push, just closes the door behind you and leads you to the couch. you sit without a word, leaning back against the cushions, closing your eyes, and for the first time in what feels like months, you let yourself breathe.

jj moves toward the kitchen without a word, and you hear the familiar sound of glasses clinking, followed by the admittedly soothing pour of wine. she returns with a glass in each hand, her expression knowing. she hands you one and sits down beside you, settling into the cushions with the kind of ease that makes you wish you could do the same.

"talk to me,” she says, her voice quiet, but firm enough to break the silence that’s settled between you. it’s not a question, really—more like a gentle command, the kind that only someone who knows you can give.

you let out a breath, leaning back into the couch, staring at the ceiling for a moment, unsure where to even begin. everything feels like a mess. but her presence, her calm, makes you feel like you might find the strength to sort it out.

“spencer—" you stop yourself, the words catching in your throat. you shake your head, a laugh escaping your lips at the disbelief of your situation. "i don’t even know what to say anymore. i don’t know how we got here. it’s like i don’t even know who he is anymore.”

jj listens, her eyes steady, her hands wrapped around her own glass, but her gaze never wavers. she’s waiting. you know she won’t interrupt.

“i thought... i thought he’d come back to me, you know?” the words slip out before you can stop them, and the sadness that follows hits you harder than anything before. “i thought, with time, things would get better. that i could get him back, the way he was. but... it’s like he’s not even here anymore. i don’t know how to reach him. and when i try, it feels like he just shuts me out more.”

you swallow hard, feeling a sharp sting behind your eyes. it feels pathetic, but you can’t stop it now. you can’t stop the flood of everything that’s been building up, everything you’ve been trying to ignore.

“he’s gone, jj. and i don’t know how to be with someone who’s... not really here,” you say, your voice breaking on the last word.

jj doesn’t say anything at first, just lets you breathe, lets you sit with it for a moment. “i know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but he’s not gone. he’s just... changed. and change is hard. for both of you.”

you scoff softly, shaking your head. “i feel like i'm going crazy."

jj watches you carefully, her gaze unwavering as she processes your words. you feel exhausted—physically, emotionally—like the weight of the past few months has finally settled on your shoulders all at once.

jj studies you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. then, she exhales, setting her wine glass down on the coffee table. “you’re not crazy,” she says simply. “you’re grieving.”

that catches you off guard. you blink at her. “grieving?”

she nods. “yeah. you’re grieving the life you had before. the spencer you had before.” she pauses. “and maybe... the version of yourself that existed before all this.”

you open your mouth, but no words come out. you want to argue, to tell her it’s not that simple, that you’re not mourning spencer like he’s some lost cause, but—god—doesn’t it feel like that sometimes? doesn’t it feel like the person you knew, the person you loved, is slipping further and further away?

jj sighs, leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “i know what it’s like to watch someone you love disappear into themselves. to feel helpless while they struggle with something you can’t fix.” her voice is softer now, careful, like she’s walking a tightrope. “it’s terrifying.”

your fingers tighten around your wine glass. “so what do i do?” the question comes out more fragile than you want it to, barely above a whisper.

she’s quiet for a moment, thinking. “you—" her words are interrupted by an abrupt sound. jj’s phone is ringing, sharp and sudden in the quiet of the room. you flinch, your heart leaping into your throat before you even see the name on the screen. but you already know.

spencer.

panic grips you, fast and unrelenting, and before you can think, the words spill out. “don’t answer it.”

jj hesitates, glancing at the phone on the coffee table. the screen glows with his name, the sound vibrating between you like a living thing. “he’s your husband,” she says gently, but her fingers hover over the screen instead of answering.

“i don’t care,” you whisper, shaking your head. “please, jj. don’t.”

she studies you, eyes flicking over your face like she’s trying to gauge just how serious you are. if she picks up, you’ll have to hear him—his voice, his clipped tone, his inevitable question: where are you? and what then? you don’t have an answer.

jj sighs, silencing the call but not declining it. the ringing stops, but the silence that follows is almost worse.

“you know he’s worried,” she says carefully. “you left without your phone. you think he’s just going to let that go?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping your glass like it’s the only thing tethering you to the moment. “i don’t know,” you admit. “i just—I can’t do this right now. fuck.”

jj shifts closer, her voice calm but firm. “running won’t fix this.”

you let out a short, bitter laugh. “staying hasn't."

she doesn’t have an answer for that.

jj watches you carefully, then sighs. “stay here as long as you need. but at some point, you have to decide—are you going home? or are you walking away?”

your arm is moving suddenly, the wine glass at your lips. her words settle over you like a weight. and for the first time, you realize—you don’t know.

jj's phone buzzes again, and you flinch at the sight of spencer’s name lighting up the screen. the call goes to voicemail, and for a few seconds, there’s nothing but silence.

the phone rings a second time. you can almost hear spencer’s voice in your head, the exact tone he always takes when he doesn’t know what to say.

“I’ll answer it,” jj says softly, but the words feel like a concession rather than a promise. she picks up the phone, and her thumb hovers over the screen.

you don’t stop her, but you wish you could. you wish you could shut everything down, turn it all off.

“spencer?” jj says, her voice calm, controlled.

you close your eyes, hearing his voice crackle through the speaker.

“jj... is she there?” spencer’s voice sounds worn, tight with something just beneath the surface. you can hear the familiar threads of guilt and concern tangled in his words. “i—i don’t know where she went. she just… she left without saying anything.”

jj looks at you, her expression unreadable. you can feel the heat of her stare on you.

“yeah, she's here.” jj finally responds, her words careful. “but she's not ready to talk to you right now, spencer.”

a long pause follows. you can hear spencer’s breath, shallow, like he’s holding something back.

“i just... i just need to know she's okay,” he says, the frustration and desperation clear in his voice. “please.”

you wince at the pleading in his words. it cuts through you in a way you hadn’t expected.

jj looks at you, her expression unreadable, before she glances down at the phone again. you can feel the heat of her stare on you.

“she’s fine,” jj says, with a note of finality. “but I think you need to give her some time. she’s been through a lot, spencer. you both have.”

“time?” Spencer’s voice cracks. “jj, i don’t—“

but she cuts him off. “i’m not getting in the middle of this. just... take care of yourself for now, okay? you’ll talk when she’s ready. she’ll come back when she’s ready.”

the phone goes silent for a moment, and then the faint click of the line disconnecting. jj pulls the phone away from her ear and sets it down on the coffee table with a soft sigh.

jj sits back, her gaze still trained on you, like she’s waiting for something.

the silence in the room feels heavier now. It presses against your chest, and the weight of it makes your thoughts swirl faster than they should. spencer’s voice still echoes in your mind—i just need to know she's okay. you don’t want to admit it, but the desperation in his words cuts deeper than you anticipated. you don’t want to feel guilty. but it settles over you, thick and unavoidable, as you sit on jj’s couch, the comfort of her presence fading into the background.

“he sounded worried,” you murmur, more to yourself than to jj.

she nods, watching you carefully. “of course he’s worried.”

you press your lips together, exhaling slowly. “i didn’t think he’d care that much.” the words taste bitter on your tongue, because the truth is, you had wanted him to care. you had wanted him to call, to ask where you were, to prove—at least to himself—that there was still something left between you worth saving.

and he did.

he did.

but now, sitting here, away from him, away from that apartment, the weight of your actions starts creeping in, cold and insidious.

you left.

you walked out without a word.

you knew what it was like to feel abandoned, to reach for someone and find nothing but empty space. and now you’ve done the same to him.

the realization makes your chest tighten, and suddenly, the fight, the frustration, the resentment—it all feels distant, overshadowed by something heavier. something closer to shame.

jj shifts beside you, her voice quiet but knowing. “you’re thinking about going back.”

you shake your head quickly. “i don’t know.” but it’s a lie. you do know.

you inhale sharply, pressing your palm to your forehead, trying to ground yourself. “god, what am I doing, jj?”

“you’re allowed to feel this, you know,” she says simply. “you’re allowed to be angry. to be hurt. to need space.”

you swallow hard, blinking down at your hands. they feel foreign to you, like they belong to someone else. “i just—” you hesitate, voice cracking slightly. “i just got so mad. he was so dismissive of me, and i couldn't be there anymore.”

“i know.”

you stare down at your lap, your fingers tightening around the fabric of your sweater.

you shake your head, guilt curling in your chest. “but that’s not me, jj. that’s not who I am. i don’t just… walk away. i got angry and i overreacted.”

she sighs. “one moment doesn't define you. things are different now. you've never been in a situation like this before,” she pauses. “sometimes you have to walk away, to get your thoughts in order."

"it would've been worse if you blew up at him." she added.

"i think i still might." you said with a dry laugh.

jj smiled slightly, her gaze softening as she leaned back, “you’ve always been the one to hold things together,” she said, her voice gentle but firm, as if trying to remind you that it was okay to break sometimes. “but you can’t hold it all in forever. and sometimes… sometimes you need space to breathe, to think. you don’t always have to be the strong one.”

you let out a breath, unsure of what to say next. jj was always good at cutting through the noise, but the guilt still sat heavily in your chest. you couldn’t escape the feeling that walking away—no matter how much you needed to—had been the wrong choice.

jj watches you for a moment, then leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “listen, i know it feels like you did something wrong by leaving, but you didn’t. you needed space. that’s not the same as giving up.”

you nod slowly, staring down at your hands, but you don’t respond.

jj sighs, then reaches over and squeezes your arm. "look, if there’s anyone who understands why you did what you did, it’s spencer. he has spent his life studying human behavior—figuring out how they think and why they do what they do. spencer knows exactly why you walked out, even if he won't admit it. he knows it was about needing space, about trying to make sense of everything that’s been building up between you.”

she pauses, giving you a reassuring look. “this isn’t the end. this is just a bump in the road—you'll go back when you're ready, and you'll start working through it all."

spencer knows why you left.

the thought lingers, easing the guilt that’s been clawing at you since you walked out. maybe that’s why he didn’t come after you. maybe, in his own way, he understood that you needed this moment to step back, to breathe, to process.

you hope—no, you need—to believe that he’s coming to his own realization. that in the quiet of your absence, in the stillness of an apartment that no longer holds your presence, he’s starting to understand. that maybe, just maybe, he’s replaying every word, every moment, and seeing where it all went wrong.

you want him to recognize that pushing you away was a mistake. that shutting you out, closing himself off instead of letting you in, only built more distance between you. and most of all, you hope he understands now—truly understands—that love isn’t about shutting doors, but about keeping them open, even when it’s hard.

the irony of the situation dawns on you. sitting here, hoping he comes to the right conclusion on his own, won’t change anything. no matter how hurt or frustrated you are, you know one thing for certain—you aren’t going to push him away the way he did to you.

you glance at jj, her eyes soft with understanding, and suddenly, you don’t feel as lost as you did before.

“i have to go back,” you murmur, the words feeling right the moment they leave your lips.

jj studies you for a moment before nodding. “yeah, i figured.” there’s no judgment in her voice, only quiet support.

you stand, but before you can say anything, jj speaks again. “i’m driving you.”

you blink at her. “jj, i can—”

"it’s late, and it’s cold,” she interrupts, crossing her arms. “and i know you. you’ll spend the entire walk overthinking, or worse, you’ll turn around and come right back here.”

you open your mouth to argue, but she raises an eyebrow, daring you to fight her on this. you sigh, giving in. “fine. i'll still overthink in the car though.”

jj smirks as she grabs her keys. "yeah, but at least this way, you’ll be overthinking with heated seats and no risk of getting hit by a rogue cyclist."

you roll your eyes, but there's a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "alright, alright. guess I’ll overthink in comfort then." you step outside, the weight of everything that’s about to unfold on your back.

the ride back is quiet, the streets nearly empty as jj navigates the familiar roads. you stare out the window, your finger spinning your wedding band, mind racing with all the possibilities of what comes next.

you wonder how it will be when you walk through that door. will he be surprised to see you? will he be angry? will he apologize? the questions swirl in your mind, but you push them aside—you'll find out in a few minutes either way.

jj pulls up in front of the apartment building and turns to you, her expression gentle. “you don’t have to fix everything tonight,” she reminds you. “just… put all your cards on the table. don't sugarcoat anything.”

you nod, feeling a mix of gratitude and nervous anticipation. "thank you, jj," you say softly, giving her a small smile. "i don’t know what i would’ve done without you tonight."

she smiles back, her eyes warm with understanding. "you’ll be fine. just be honest, that’s all you can do."

with a final nod, you push the door open, the cold air immediately hitting you as you step out onto the sidewalk. your heart is pounding in your chest, each step towards the apartment feeling heavier than the last.

you twist the handle, it's unlocked, but you hesitate before pushing the door open, gathering your courage in the silent hallway. when you finally step inside, the apartment is quiet—but not empty. a single lamp illuminates the living room, casting long shadows across the walls.

and there's spencer, sitting on the couch hunched over with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

he looks up at the sound of the door, and for a brief moment, his face is completely unguarded. relief washes over his features, followed quickly by something that looks almost like fear. he stands immediately, his movements stiff and uncertain.

"you came back," he says, his voice hoarse.

you close the door behind you, still standing near the threshold. "i started feeling guilty." you sighed, jj's voice in the back of your head—just be honest.

spencer swallows, his gaze flickering to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again. "guilty?" he repeats, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

spencer exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “you shouldn't feel guilty," he murmurs, then shakes his head. "i mean, it makes sense,” he says quickly, his words picking up speed.

“studies show that guilt is often a response to perceived moral transgressions rather than actual wrongdoing. it’s the brain’s way of enforcing social cohesion—an evolutionary mechanism designed to maintain interpersonal relationships by making us feel responsible for potential harm, even when no actual harm has been inflicted.”

you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of disbelief and amusement as he rambled on. it was as if, in the middle of all this, the man you once knew had momentarily resurfaced. even if what he was saying wasn’t at all what you needed to hear right now, a part of you couldn't help but recognize the familiarity in it—the way he always got lost in his thoughts, trying to explain things when he didn’t quite know how to connect.

he shifts on his feet, his words picking up speed. “and in this case, your reaction makes perfect sense. you removed yourself from a heightened emotional situation in order to regulate your response, which, psychologically speaking, is a far healthier alternative to reactive conflict. but then, the cognitive dissonance sets in—the part where your brain tells you that leaving contradicts your usual patterns of behavior, and that discrepancy triggers guilt, even if logically—”

“spencer,” you interrupt gently.

his mouth snaps shut, and for a second, there’s just silence. a flicker of something vulnerable crosses his face, and you realize—he’s rambling because he doesn’t know what else to say. because this is easier for him than actually talking about what matters.

you step forward, closing a bit of the distance between you. “i don’t need an analysis,” you tell him gently. "i just want you to tell me what's going on."

spencer’s gaze flickers for a moment, like he’s trying to find the words, trying to make sense of the situation. "i never wanted you to feel like you needed to leave," he says, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable. “but i didn’t exactly make it easy for you to stay.”

you lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, the weight of everything you haven’t said pressing heavily on your chest. "no, you didn’t," you admit, your voice just above a whisper.

his expression tightens, a flash of something—guilt, maybe—crossing his face before he looks away.

"i've been trying," he says quietly. "i have."

"have you?" the question comes out sharper than you intended, but you don't soften it. "because from where i'm standing, it feels like you've been doing everything possible to push me away."

spencer's gaze snaps back to you, a hint of defensiveness in his eyes. "that's not fair."

"isn't it?" you take another step forward, emboldened by the surge of emotions you've held back for too long. "you won't talk to me. you won't look at me. you won't even sit next to me on the couch. what am i supposed to think, spencer?"

he runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every movement. "it's not that simple," he says, his voice strained. "i want to be the person you remember, but i don't know if i can be that man anymore."

the admission hits you like a physical blow. "i'm not asking you to be exactly who you were before," you say softly. "i know that's not possible. i just... i need you to be present. to talk to me. to not shut me out completely."

spencer is quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on some point beyond you. when he finally speaks, his voice is barely audible. "i don't know how to explain what it was like in there."

your breath catches. this is the closest he's come to talking about prison since he's been home. you don't know if you should say something. you hold your breath, afraid that if you move or speak, he'll retreat again.

his eyes are distant, far away, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s even aware of how much you’re hanging on his every word. finally, he exhales slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor as if the weight of it all is too much to bear.

“being in there… it broke something inside of me,” he says, voice low and strained. “i kept thinking about what it would be like to come back, to be here, with you. and then i just—" he paused for a moment. "i had to do something really bad. i had to do things in there that… things i never thought i would do."

"i hate myself for it. every second of it." his voice breaks on the last word, he shakes his head, hands shaking slightly as he runs them through his hair, frustration and guilt radiating from him.

"i wasn't just a victim in there—i became someone i don't even recognize anymore. i did things that went against everything i ever believed in, everything i told myself i would never do."

he looks at you now, and you can see the turmoil in his eyes—the deep-rooted shame and the self-loathing that’s consumed him. "and now i’m back here, with you, and i don’t even know who i am anymore. i’ve become this person who did unforgivable things. you don't deserve someone like me, someone who’s capable of—of that." he gestures vaguely, as if trying to encompass everything that’s happened to him.

"is that why you've been pushing me away?" you ask softly. "because you think i won't love who you are now?"

he doesn't answer, but the way he avoids your gaze tells you everything.

"baby," you whisper, shifting closer to him. "nothing could change how I see you."

you take a slow, unsteady breath, searching for the right words—any words—but everything feels inadequate. how do you explain something that goes beyond language?

"god, spencer," you exhale, shaking your head. "i wish i was better at this. i wish i had the right words, i wish i was some kind of poet, and that i could say the right things to make you understand, but i'm not."

you finally close the gap between you two and take his hands, gripping them tightly, pressing them against your chest as if somehow, if he just feels the way your heart beats for him, he’ll finally understand.

"it’s frustrating," you continue, voice thick with emotion. "because what i feel for you—it’s bigger than me. it’s bigger than words. i can’t explain it, and i hate that, because i need you to know. i need you to understand that this isn’t something breakable, something you can ruin, something you can chase away just because you think you should."

he swallows hard, his fingers curling around yours, but he doesn’t speak. maybe he can’t.

"i swear, spencer, if there was a way to pull this feeling out of me and give it to you, i would. if i could make you see yourself the way i see you, make you understand that what you did—what you had to do—doesn’t make you unworthy of love, i would do it in a heartbeat." your voice breaks slightly, tears now lining your eyes. "because i don’t just love you. it’s not that simple. it’s not just some feeling, some thing i could ever put into words. it’s more. it doesn’t begin or end with what you’ve done, or what’s happened to you, or who you think you’ve become. it just is."

he lets out a shaky breath, his eye are now wet, shining under the dim apartment light, his lips parted slightly like he wants to argue but can’t find the strength to. because maybe, just maybe, for the first time—he’s starting to believe you.

"i just wish—i wish you could feel it," you murmur, voice breaking. "i wish you could step into my skin, into my heart, and know how much i love you."

you don’t realize you’re crying until he reaches up, hesitantly, brushing his fingers against your cheek like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he touches you. his hand is shaking, but he doesn’t pull away.

spencer’s expression falters, something breaking inside of him, and when he finally—finally—pulls you into his arms, it’s not desperate or frantic. his arms wrap around you slowly, almost reverently, as though he's trying to let the feeling of your love wash over him, to understand it the way you do.

at first, it’s just the slightest tremble in his shoulders, so faint you almost miss it. but then you feel it—the shaky exhale against your neck, the way his fingers clutch at the fabric of your shirt like he’s afraid to let go. and then, slowly, silently, he starts to break.

his breath hitches, and before he can stop it, a quiet sob escapes him, muffled against your shoulder. his body shakes, all the pain and guilt unraveling all at once, and all you can do is hold him through it. his hands grasp at you like you’re the only thing tethering him to the present, like if he lets go, he’ll disappear into everything he’s been trying so hard to contain.

you don’t say anything. you don’t tell him it’s okay, because you know he wouldn’t believe it. or maybe because it isn't. but it will be. you'll make sure of that.

your fingers thread through his hair, your lips press against his temple, and you whisper the same words over and over, a promise and a lifeline: "i love you. i love you. i love you."

you stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other, the weight of everything that’s happened still lingering in the air between you. but it’s different now. lighter, somehow. not because everything is fixed—there are still conversations to have, wounds to tend to, pieces of him he hasn’t shown you yet.

but for the first time in a long while, you feel like you’re on the same side again. you’re not standing in separate corners, silently blaming each other for things you can’t control.

the weight in your chest, the anxiety that has gnawed at you since that day you got the call about him being detained, begins to fade. you don’t need to fix everything tonight. you don’t need to have all the answers.

his breathing begins to steady, the tears slowing, but he doesn’t pull away. instead, he rests his forehead against yours, his voice a raw whisper as he says the only thing he can in this moment. “i’m sorry.”

you close your eyes for a moment, exhaling softly. “i know,” you whisper.

there's a beat of silence. "i've been having nightmares," he says, his voice so low you have to strain to hear him. "almost every night. that's where i go sometimes—i walk before going to bed. i walk so that i'm exhausted enough that my mind shuts down."

the sudden admission breaks your heart—but there's also a part of you that feels relief. relief that he wasn't turning to something worse or someone else to numb the pain.

"spencer, you could have told me." you said, fingers rubbings patterns into his back.

"i didn't want to burden you more than i already have," he says, shaking his head. "you've already been through so much because of me."

"that's not how this works," you say, squeezing his hand. "just forget all of that, okay? things will be different now. you not talking to me hurts more than that ever could."

he leans into you, his eyes closing for a brief moment. "i'm sorry," he whispers. "for pushing you away. for making you feel like you weren't enough. you've always been enough."

you lift a hand to his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek as you take in the exhaustion lining his features—the weight he’s been carrying alone for too long. slowly, carefully, you lean in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. just a warm, quiet reassurance that you’re here, that you’re staying.

when you finally pull away, his forehead rests against yours, and he lets out a quiet sigh, his breath warm against your skin. he looks at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. "do you want to go to bed?" he asks, voice low.

you pause for a moment, you hadn’t realized just how exhausted you were until his mention of sleep. your shoulders feel heavy, and your body aches from the emotional toll it’s taken.

a deep, almost instinctual sigh escapes your lips, and you nod softly, “yeah."

spencer squeezes your hand gently and leads you toward the bedroom. the moment the covers are pulled back, you slip under the soft sheets, the cool fabric against your skin offering the smallest comfort after everything you've been through. spencer follows you in, his body warm and reassuring as he settles beside you.

he moves closer, carefully wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into him with a tenderness that makes your chest tighten. you rest your head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding you. his presence, steady and constant, washes over you like a balm, soothing the frantic, scattered thoughts in your mind.

his hand moves slowly up and down your back, the rhythm soothing, and you realize just how much you've missed this—missed him.

you close your eyes, letting the weight of everything melt away as you drift closer to sleep. spencer’s voice is soft, a comforting murmur as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"i love you."

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler #prison reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #postprison!spencer

96 notes · View notes

mrderofcr0ws · 3 days ago

Text

HEADLOCK

JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES

that was the name written on a gravestone in brooklyn with no body below it since the sergeant had been pronounced dead in 1945.

the body that once belonged to that name was now hydra's most prized possession— but the winter soldier was not the only danger locked away down in the remote siberian facility. you were there, too. a monster made from horrors most refused to believe could be real.

two trained killing machines.

one bound to commands and trigger words.

the other bound to instinct and bloodlust.

it had been a long time since either of you had seen the sun. you could get out with his help in the brief, painful moments of clarity he had. when he answered to that long forgotten name, you could escape together.

but bucky was often buried under that brooklyn headstone-and the winter soldier who slept in the bunk below you nearly every night was a danger to even you.

this is a fic that explores bucky's time in hydra. the content warnings are as follows: torture, manipulation, angst, pain, psychological horror, graphic descriptions and language, poetic comparisons to cannibalism, hurt with minimal comfort at times, stockholm syndrome, smut, degrading, power imbalance, canon divergence. 18+ fic.

bucky x fem!reader (you have a given name in this fic for the sake of making writing easier, but it will be used sparingly)

word count: idk i write on tumblr. (roughly edited)

<- previous chapter

PART FOUR —

— LIKE MACHINES DO

the winter soldier was awake before the sun began to rise because he hadn’t slept.

he could not lay still. it was a bad habit of his that you learned to coexist with having to share a room with him. he would rattle the whole bunk tossing and turning as he tried his hardest to settle. his footsteps against the cold stone floor of your bedroom cell were an ambiance that you grew to find soothing.

in the hotel room now, it was no different.

as much as he wanted to lay beside you — cupping your waist in his hands, tangling his legs with yours, and keeping his face tucked down into the warmth of your cleavage — he couldn’t.

he tried.

he really did.

he focused on the way your heart sounded below his ear. a steady, even tempo. he was grateful to hear it. it meant you were here— that you were real.

most of the time, he didn’t know what was real.

he rose out of bed as quiet as a mouse. he pulled on his boxers and pushed his long hair out of his face. the room was dark and he intended on keeping it that way as to not disturb you.

he wouldn’t let anything ruin the time you had to rest.

so he watched you from where he sat by the window in complete and total silence.

when you finally stirred in the sheets, the sun was cresting on the horizon. when you rolled over onto your side and stretched out your limbs, you saw him. he was a shadow in the corner of the room dressed in his gear.

the leather was snug. the padding he wore accentuated the muscles in his arm— the curves of his waist. the straps of his harness hugged his figure and held every piece of weaponry that he would need out on the field. extra clips. extra magazines. bombs. too many knives to count. guns by his thighs. a gun behind the back of his neck. a gun on the back of his belt. his gleaming vibranium arm with the red star had never looked more intimidating.

and that mask.

all you could see of his face were his icy blue eyes and those dark, brooding eyebrows.

you had seen him in his gear too many times to count but it never seemed to lose its glamor.

he scared you down to the marrow of your bones and yet you wanted to tug him over by his belt and lay yourself bare for him despite it.

the tension in his shoulders seemed to loosen as you got out of bed. neither of you said a word. he didn’t bother looking away as you got dressed into your own gear. despite being assigned to the ground, you’d be suited up, too. it mattered little who saw you once you were there. the worst thing that could happen on a mission was that either of you died.

murder was never discreet.

it was always messy.

you wouldn’t be deployed on the street until after agent fury was already done enjoying his pizza, anyways. by the time he saw you on his walk back—he wouldn’t.

winter did not miss.

you slipped on your gloves and tightened them around your wrists. you smirked as you felt your guns click into their holsters. you looked up as he slid the last one into place behind your back.

he brushed the side of his face against yours and murmured, “remember what i told you.”

“it wont come to that.” you leaned back into him and kissed the mouth of his mask. “but i remember.”

you’d done this countless times.

this would be no different than the rest.

you’d be on a plane home before sunset.

and the two of you would be cold on ice before tomorrow ended.

— ☆ —

the ironwork offices consisted of an entire floor of cluttered, abandoned workrooms on the top level of a building soon to be torn down. the offices had been moved closer to the factory district where the company had their main warehouses located. the building was a street over from the cafe on the opposite side; but the top floors towered over the building in front of it and overlooked the cafe perfectly. it was a far enough distance to keep the high-rise team out of sight.

when you and the winter soldier arrived, the officers and the strike team were already there.

but there were more.

many, many more.

the room was full of hydra guards in bulletproof armor and masks that covered every inches of their faces. karov was handing all of them ear pieces and synching them onto the same channel.

you looked up at him. “always more…”

“always more,” he agreed.

the members of the strike team stood lining the back wall after they were given their ear pieces. the sunlight spilling in through the windows stopped right before the tips of their boots. nikta was hunched over a laptop in one of the cubicles, flipping through the real-time surveillance footage of the streets in the area.

his watched beeped.

“ten minutes.” nikta announced.

you placed down the duffle bag you carried around your shoulder and he kneeled beside you. unzipping the bag, winter pulled out his sniper. he handed it over to you. you popped in the magazine as he tossed it to you and switched the safety off. you planted your feet and raised the scope to your eye. you tweaked knobs to align the elevation.

you handed him the sniper and he took it as he stood. he raised it, looking through the scope.

he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

you could feel his smile through his mask.

“soldier.”

he strapped the gun over his back and turned on queue towards karov. “ready to comply.”

“fangs,” nikta said.

your jaw tightened.

you didn’t like that nickname.

you never had.

but there were worse things to be called.

“officer,” you said as you approached.

“this is where we will be positioned.” nikta said, handing you the laptop. he pointed to the screen. the cafe had a line out the door. it must’ve been well known. that many people meant for more cover. “when nick passes the light post, the winter soldier will take his shot.”

you glanced at the officer as you handed him back his laptop.

“come get your ear piece, pet.” karov said, waving you over before nikta could say anything further.

you grimaced under your mask.

that was the worst name.

“go,” nikta said, turning back towards the desk.

you stood still as karov placed the metal piece into your ear. you asked softly, “why so many?”

karov knew what you were asking. “this is no stroll in the park, pet. hydra would never step against any shield agents without heads to replace the fallen in our ranks in the case of a misstep.”

“but the soldier won’t miss.” you said, looking down at the short, doggish officer.

he said nothing. he didn’t bother to meet your gaze. he tapped the metal in your ear twice and you heard soft static crackle. you clicked the button on the inside of your collar twice.

“soldier,” karov said with a nod his way.

winter raised his hand to his throat and pressed the button inside his collar. his voice buzzed in your ear, “test. test. test.”

“copy,” you said.

winter nodded to karov. your ear pieces were synched. you’d be able to hear each other within a range of ten miles. any more than that and you’d lose connection.

it was how he always know where to find you when you came to after one of your bloodlust spells.

nikita’s watch beeped.

“it’s time.”

— ☆ —

the streets were crowded with people moving in every direction. trying to track one person was like looking for a needle in a haystack to most.

nicholas fury could have been beacon of shining light to the two of you.

you stood by the corner window together and watched as he passed by the cafe. dressed in a navy suit with sunglasses on, he was keen on enjoying his lunch break at his favorite pizza place. most days he had the pizza. today was different. he planned to order one of their italian subs.

it was the last time he would visit russo’s pizza.

he would not make it passed the cafe once the clock struck 2:22pm.

“alright,” nikta said. “ground team, let’s move.”

you and winter met each others eyes and shared a fleeting look that gnawed at what lay cold and beating behind your ribs.

he pulled a knife from his baldric and twirled it between his fingers. he slid it into place into the strap across your chest. you grazed the handle with your fingers without looking away from his eyes.

“don’t miss,” you said. he could hear the smile in your voice. “you owe me a hundred bucks if you do.”

“i don’t have a hundred bucks.” he said with a smug roll of his shoulders, “and i won’t.”

you grabbed his arm before he could kneel at his perch and ready his gun. he dipped his head instinctively as you pulled him in.

“we are compromised.” you whispered into his ear. you spoke in romanian and you spoke fast. “i can’t tell you which of them is the rat but i know its one of them. thats why there are extra guards. one of them doesn’t trust the other.”

“shoot who needs to go down, winter, even if that person in your sights is not agent fury.”

his brows pinched together as he looked down at you. he tipped his head, eyes flicking passed you at the two officers before landing back on you.

you nodded once, searching for any hint that he understood.

he loaded his gun. “good luck, doll.”

you turned away without another word and slipped on the long, black trench coat that would hide your gear as karov held it for you.

your mask hid your smile.

you made sure your ear piece was on one last time before you followed officer nikta and the — now four instead of two — strike team soldiers out of the room.

“eyes up,” nikta said as you descended the steps behind the strike team. “and stay on guard.”

it was incredibly bright outside. with the sun just passed it highest point, the glare took your unaccustomed eyes time to adjust to. the six of you crossed the street at different times. nikta first. the strike guards in pairs after him. you last.

you could feel him watching you through the scope of his gun as you took your spot by the lightpost.

nikta was to your left, rummaging through the newspaper box. he opened it up and began to read. the strike team guards sat spread out at the outdoor tables lining the sidewalk.

the minutes ticked by.

“look alive, little monster.”

you lifted your gaze just enough to catch sight of the window he was perched in, but he was impossible to see. he was shrunken by distance and cloaked by shadow within the building.

“one hundred bucks if you blow it, winter.”

you heard him scoff out a laugh through comms and it made you grin under your mask. you glanced down at your wrist and pulled the edge of your glove down.

{ 2:20 }

“two minutes.”

“copy.”

you pulled your sleeve down and turned. you scanned face after face as they passed by. with each second that ticked by, you felt your heart start to race. your hands were sweaty in your gloves and you could feel your blood rushing through your veins.

you could feel his gaze shift from behind the scope.

“target sited.”

your eyes jumped from face to face.

and then you saw him.

with a half-finished bottle of coca-cola in his hand and a toothpick in his mouth, he was entirely and completely unaware of the danger that he was ten steps away from.

as nicholas fury approached the point of no return, he reached up and pulled his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose.

ice shot through you as he looked into your eyes with his one good one— the other scarred and white.

time came to a crawl.

bang!

you flinched as the gun went off right by your head.

the smoke from the barrel wafted off the gun in nikta’s hand. you could taste it in your mask. it burned your eyes.

you turned, following the straight shot of his arm.

nikta aimed for the window.

pop! pop! pop! pop!

nick fury pulled his gun from the back of his belt and and shot the strike soldiers in the chaos unfolding on the street.

it all came rushing back to speed as nikta turned his gun towards you. you pulled the knife from the strap on your chest and threw it. he fell like a bag of sand as it struck him in the chest.

you reached back to unclasp your mask from your face, teeth bared for the kill as you turned towards the one-eyed agent who had you in his sights.

the clasp refused to come undone.

panic shot through you like a bullet.

nikta tampered with your gear.

“go, go, go!” shouted voices from above as shield agents descended from the rooftops.

a hale storm of bullets thundered with fury and whizzed through the air. screams of terror pierced your ears like knives as the shield agents on descending lines went limp. blood sprayed like rain across the street.

“hostile up top! twelve o’clock!” fury yelled, diving down out of sight.

you looked up.

and you saw him.

with two guns in his hands, the winter soldier was raining hell from the rooftop of the ironworks office with the guards of the strike team.

karov was nowhere to be seen.

“i told you to run.”

at the sound of his voice in your ear, your muscles sprang into action and you took off.

bullets shot passed your head as you ran straight into the street. cars honked and breaks screeched. in the chaos of the city under fire, you ran into the commotion of the traffic filled street interrupted by the running crowd.

“nikta! it was nikta!” you shouted over the noise. you pulled your guns from your thigh holsters and glanced behind you. “he screwed up my mask! i can’t get it off!”

“i know.”

“he shot at you!”

“he missed.”

you pulled the trigger and a bullet flew into the shoulder of one of the shield agents hot on your trail. he dropped to the ground but you didn’t see. you shoved passed people as you turned the corner.

round the street and get to him.

that’s all you had to do.

once you were with him, the rest would make sense.

tires screeched and you turned to see a massive armored truck block the end of the road. agents came spilling out of it like a broken damn.

there were too many agents on the ground and it was only you facing them head on.

but you had eyes above.

“left!”

you extended your left hand and pulled the trigger.

another agent down.

“two behind you!”

you spun around and popped two shots. they were dead before they hit the ground.

“get down now!”

you hit the deck and rolled underneath an abandoned car. you looked your your right and watched the shield truck blow. fire and rubbled shot out everywhere as it exploded.

you crawled out from underneath the car and you shot off into a sprint.

and so did the bullet from nick fury’s gun.

you stumbled into the street as the bullet struck you through the lower back.

you touched your stomach and felt the hot, wet mess begin to spread through your gear.

car breaks whined and hissed at you like a feral cat. the smell of burned rubber suffocated you in your mask. the car tapped your hips and you stared at the driver through your wet lashes. you slammed your bloody hand onto the car as your core weakened, grasping for any leverage you had to stay standing.

“i’m hit…” you whispered.

you grunted as you looked down again. blood was pouring out of you like a bubbling faucet. it ruined the front of this poor lady’s yellow punch buggy. you glanced around you as shield agents swarmed the street and circled you with their guns drawn.

“james,” you breathed his name. “i’m hit.”

“i know, baby. im coming.”

the explosions sent you toppling over and you hit the ground hard. one after the other they went off like crackling fireworks. agents and civilians alike were blown back— blown to pieces alongside cement and stone as he shot grenades into the crowds. the strike team above picked off agent after agent despite the bullets flying back at them.

the plan to kill nick fury had failed.

the mission now was to retrieve you and go.

it was like watching lucifer fall from heaven.

the winter soldier jumped off the rooftop and he landed atop one of the burning cars. he walked through the flames and off the windshield with his eyes set on nothing but you.

you reached for him as he kneeled down— but you saw the shadow behind him.

“watch out!” you screamed.

he whipped around and grabbed the nozzle of the gun with his metal hand. the shot fired— but the bullet flatted against his vibranium palm.

winter’s eye twitched and nick fury’s chest fell.

“well, shit…”

you pushed yourself away, clutching your wound as winter grabbed the shield agent by the collar of his shirt and rammed him down into the street. you lost sight of him behind the car. you could hear his feral, tight grunts and the whirr of his metal arm.

pop! pop! pop!

the windows shattered and you raised your arm to shield your face. the car rattled as one of them slammed into it.

you needed to move.

right now.

you cried out as you were pulled to your feet. panic shot through you and you reached for your knives, but the sight of his face drew your brows together in a hard line.

“hurry now, pet, now is not the time to freeze.” karov said as he slid your arm over his shoulder. he brought his hand to his throat and pressed the button on his collar. “weapon-v secure. evacuating to your position now. she’s hit. ready aide.”

you cried out as he pulled you along step after step. you tried to look up— look anywhere that wasn’t your feet — but the world was spinning. tears and sweat wet your face. with each step, you groaned.

“bucky…” you looked over your shoulder to try and see him.

blood splattered across the side of your face as a bullet struck karov through the throat.

you tried to catch him.

you tried to hold him upright.

you fell to the ground with him and landed on your back. you screamed in terror and he choked above you. he clawed at his throat, gasping and suffocating on blood. you titled your head back squeezed your eyes shut as blood sprayed across your face and burned your eyes.

“fuck!” you yelled, trying to shove him off you. “oh, fuck! fuck!”

you felt the weight of him get shoved away. your hands flew to your face— but you were grabbed by the arms. a guttural cry of anguish tore through your teeth as you were dragged blind through the street.

“target acquired!” an unfamiliar voice shouted.

you blinked as hard as you could to clear your eyes. you struggled as hard as you could. you thrashed— but you only hurt yourself more. you forced your eyes open and all you saw was red.

and then nothing at all.

— ☆ —

death was a warm, welcoming hug.

but all you knew was the cold, cruel kiss of life.

white.

you could’ve been dead. all around you was white. white lights. white walls. white sheets. a white ceiling and a white floor. you cringed at all the light— at all the white. you squeezed your eyes closed.

a soft grunt escaped you as you breathed too deep. you could feel the tender, angry wound wrapped under layers and layers of bandages.

“winter,” you murmured through chapped lips and a dry mouth. you turned your head towards his rickety old chair. “winter, i’m thirsty…”

“i don’t speak russian, i’m afraid.”

your head snapped up and your eyes shot open. you bared your teeth at the agent who stood at the end of your bed.

“easy now,” said nicholas fury. he raised his hands and spared you a sympathetic smile. “you don’t want to tear a stitch.”

you grimaced at the reminder of the pain— at the way english sounded. it was a mess of words you had a hard time putting together. it was slow coming.

“you should learn.” you muttered as you glanced around the room. the scowl on your face must’ve amused him because he laughed. unless he found what you said funny.

the plain, empty room was as much as cell as any other. you were in handcuffs, your hands tied to the bed. you were prisoner. cared for, sure, but still a prisoner.

“where am i?” you asked softly.

“you know where you are.” nick said.

you grimaced. although you weren’t fond of his answer, he was right. it didn’t matter where you were exactly because you were in shield’s custody.

“do you remember what happened?” nick asked.

you nodded once but said nothing.

“your wound will heal if you let it.” he flicked his head towards your stomach. “i’m a good shot. i made sure not to paralyze you.”

“i won’t thank you.” you muttered.

“no, i figured you wouldn’t.” he chuckled.

you did not laugh. you did not bother to look at him.

only one thing mattered to you now.

“where…” you stopped yourself.

you had to maintain the secret.

“where is your friend?” nick asked for you. he walked over to the white metal chair beside your bed and turned it around, sitting backwards on it. “we don’t know where your friend with the metal arm is. he fled the scene.”

your brows pinched together and your chest caved.

relief or pain, you did not know.

“he…he’s not here?” you asked in a voice far too soft. you looked at the agent sitting beside you, searching for any hint of a lie.

“no,” nick said with a shake of his head. “sergeant james buchanan barnes is not here.”

your face paled. “how do you…” you almost didn’t have the words. your mind went numb you weren’t sure if you could’ve spoken russian if you tried. “that name…how…”

“shield knows more about you two than you could imagine, miss constantinescu, and we’ve been searching hard to find you both since we got wind of your…creation.” nick said lightly.

you squeezed your eyes shut. “don’t call me that.”

“that’s your name isn’t it?” nick asked.

“i don’t have a name.” you whispered through your teeth.

“now that just ain’t true.” nick sighed as he got up. he walked behind you somewhere and you tried to turn your head and see him. “you have many names.”

it was hard to focus your eyes as he held the folder in front of your face. the brown folder had your name across it in bold red letters.

ISLA E. CONSTANTINESCU

“THE VAMPIRE”

“WEAPON-V”

“shall i open it?” nick asked.

you said nothing.

you couldn’t find your voice.

you didn’t exist.

before hydra, you hadn’t existed. that woman did not exist. isla constantinescu was story. a dream. that person was not real.

you were real. a weapon. a machine. a monster. a pet.

that girl did not exist.

that girl was not you.

but if she had not been real then how was he holding a folder full of her?

a folder full of you.

nick placed the brown folder into your hands and stepped away. you looked over at him with tears brimming on your lashes. this was poison. it burned your hands to hold and yet you clutched it between your palms tighter and tighter.

“if i’m going to talk to you,” nick said with a small tip of his head, “then it looks like you are going to have to meet yourself, miss constantinescu.”

hope you enjoyed this installment of headlock. action scenes are always hard to write and i hope i did alright at keeping the intensity of the moment rampant. part five coming soon. as always, let me know if you want to join the taglist.

tags: @homiesexual-or-homosexual @carbonnite-copy @aegonshusband

next part ->

#bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky #bucky x you #bucky x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel #mrderofcr0ws #HEADLOCK bucky barnes #the winter soldier fanfiction #the winter soldier x you #the winter soldier x reader

60 notes · View notes

snowysosturn · 3 days ago

Text

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 19

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: mentions of drinking, tension, suggestive

Nick and Nate stumble toward us, their faces lit up with amusement, the unmistakable buzz of alcohol obvious by their faces. Their energy is loud, unfiltered, and completely opposite to the quiet, intimate vibe Matt and I had been enjoying just moments ago.

"Look who we have here!" Nick announces, swaying slightly as he points between the two of us. His tone is teasing, like he's caught us in the middle of something.

I glance behind them, noticing Chris is nowhere to be seen. "Where’s Chris?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

Nate lets out a laugh. "Dude got a FaceTime call and then just decided to dip. Didn’t even say a real goodbye, just up and left."

Matt and I share a similar look.

"Old people behavior."

We both burst into laughter at how effortlessly it came out of both of us, but the second I meet Nick and Nate’s eyes again, I realise our little moment wasn’t so subtle. They’re both looking at us with suspicion, eyes narrowing as they exchange a glance of their own.

"Okay" Nick says, crossing his arms over his chest. "What is going on with you two? How was your night?"

I freeze slightly, feeling the weight of their gazes. I can tell they’re waiting for us to slip up, for one of us to give something away, and I don’t trust myself to answer without letting something show.

I bring my cocktail to my lips, taking a slow sip to buy time, but before I can come up with something casual, Matt steps in smoothly.

"Good, we were hungry so got some pizza and now a cocktail” Matt gestures to his near empty glass. “Nate, you wanna come the bar with me? I need another drink" he says, the ease in his voice almost too perfect.

Nate pauses, his eyes flicking between us for another second, before he shrugs. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"

As they turn toward the bar, Matt throws me a quick reassuring glance. He knows Nick is going to grill me, and he’s giving me a chance to handle it before they come back.

I sigh and tilt my head toward the outdoor seating. "Come on, Nick. Let’s go find a bigger table before they get back."

Nick follows, but I can feel his stare burning into the side of my face.

"As we weave through the crowd to find an open table, I can still feel Nick’s eyes on me, sharp and calculating. The second we sit down, he doesn’t even try to play it cool.

"Alright" he says, leaning forward, elbows on the table. "Do you have feelings for Matt?"

I choke on my cocktail, barely managing to swallow before shooting him a glare. "Jesus, Nick. Being subtle really isn’t your thing, huh?"

He smirks, clearly enjoying how flustered I am. "Nope. So? Do you?"

I stare at him for a second, debating whether I should keep playing it cool. But honestly? I’m tired. Tired of pretending, tired of acting like there’s nothing there when the weight of it has been pressing down on me for so long.

I exhale, setting my drink down. "Yeah" I admit, my voice quieter than I expected. "I do."

Nick blinks, like he wasn’t actually expecting me to say it out loud. "Wait- seriously?"

I nod, suddenly feeling like a huge weight is off my chest.

Nick doesn’t say anything for a moment. He just studies me, processing everything. Then, to my surprise, he huffs out a laugh. "You know, I always kinda suspected there was something there. You two have been dancing around it for so long, it was only a matter of time before one of you snapped."

I groan, covering my face with my hands. "Is it that obvious?"

Nick grins. "Not to everyone. But to me? Yeah. And definitely to Nate, too. You should’ve seen the way he was looking at you two earlier."

I peek through my fingers. "Shit..Nate has actually said it to me before."

Nick chuckles, shaking his head. "So what now? Are you guys.. together?"

I hesitate, chewing on my lip. "I don’t know" I admit. "I mean.. we kissed.. but it’s not like we’ve talked about what it means."

Nick raises a brow. "And you’re okay with that?"

I pause, really thinking about it. "I think I just.. want to see where it goes. I don’t want to overthink it."

Nick leans back, nodding. "Fair enough. Just-" He points at me. "If he screws with you, I’m kicking his ass. I don’t care if he’s my brother."

I snort, rolling my eyes. "Noted."

Before he can say anything else, I spot Matt and Nate heading back toward us, fresh drinks in hand.

"Alright" Nick says, lowering his voice as they get closer. "Your secret’s safe with me.. for now."

I shoot him a grateful look before turning my attention to Matt. And when our eyes meet, something in my chest tightens.

Yes. I do have feelings for him. And there’s no point denying it anymore.

Matt sets the drinks down on the table and slides into the seat next to me, his arm casually draped over the back of my chair. He takes a sip of his cocktail before looking at Nick and Nate.

"So, how was your night?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Nate snickers immediately, nudging Nick. "Oh, you mean aside from Nick pulling?"

I blink, turning to Nick so fast I nearly give myself whiplash. "Excuse me?"

Nick just shrugs, way too nonchalant for my liking. "What?"

"You kept that quiet!" I say, narrowing my eyes at him.

Nick leans back in his chair, taking a slow sip of his drink like he hasn’t just been exposed. "I keep my cards close to my chest" he says, smirking.

I groan, laughing at him. "I actually hate you"

Nick just grins, clearly enjoying this way too much.

Matt, who has been watching all of this with an amused expression, finally cuts in. "Hold on, hold on, so Nick got a guy’s number and just wasn’t gonna tell us?"

Nate nods, grinning. "Yup.The guy just walked over, chatted a bit, asked for his number as if it was nothing."

I shake my head at Nick. "Unbelievable."

Nick just shrugs again. "Maybe I wanted to keep things private. Ever think of that?"

I give him a narrow eyed look, almost to telepathically say "Oh, so you get to be private, but you get to interrogate me about Matt?"

Nick doesn’t even try to hide his smug expression. "Love you too, Y/n."

Matt leans back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head as he glances at me. "You know” he starts, tapping his fingers lightly against the side of his drink, "we haven’t really had a proper beach day since we got here."

I tilt my head at him, knowing I had only mentioned it to him earlier.

“What do you mean? We’ve been to the beach loads of times." Nick says.

"Yeah" he nods, "but not when Y/n’s been here. Not just a full day of sun, sand, and doing absolutely nothing."

Nate leans forward, intrigued. "Are you trying to sell us on the idea of a lazy beach day?"

Matt shrugs, his eyes still on me. "I just think Y/n should experience it properly at least once before we leave. No chaos, no interruptions, just..enjoying it."

Something about the way he says it makes my stomach flip, the idea of spending a whole day with nothing to do but be with him settling into my mind.

I smile at him, nudging his knee under the table. "Alright. You’ve convinced me."

Matt grins, satisfied. "Good. It’s settled then. Beach day tomorrow."

Nick raises his glass. "To doing absolutely nothing productive tomorrow."

We all clink our drinks together, and I can’t help but look over at Matt, the way he’s already watching me with that smile.

Tomorrow’s going to be a good day.

After finishing our cocktails, we fell into conversation for a bit. Although the strip is still alive with laughter and music, the idea of heading back to the villa sounds more appealing now.

"Alright, shall we head back?" Matt asks.

Nick and Nate nod in agreement, both still riding the buzz from their night out. "Yeah, I think we’ve done enough damage here" Nick laughs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I need my bed."

We stand to leave and Matt throws an arm around my shoulders as we start walking. The four of us move through the strip, dodging groups of tourists and late night partiers, the warm breeze carrying the scent of salty food from the vendors still open.

"You excited for tomorrow?" Matt asks, keeping his voice low just for me.

I glance up at him, feeling the emotions of the night settle in my chest in the best way. "Yeah" I admit. "I think I really am."

His fingers brush against my arm before he lets them fall back to his side. "Good."

We eventually reach the villa, Nick and Nate disappear to their rooms, already half asleep on their feet, but Matt and I pause for a moment in the hallway, neither of us quite ready to part ways just yet.

"Well" I breathe, stretching my arms above my head. "Guess I should sleep if we’re making a whole day out of tomorrow."

Matt leans against the wall, watching me with that same unreadable look I’ve started to recognize. like he wants to say something, like he’s thinking too much. But instead, he just nods. "Yeah. Get some rest."

There’s a moment, just a flicker of hesitation, but then I smile at him, a quiet promise in the way my eyes meet his. "Goodnight, Matt."

He exhales, like he was holding something in. "Goodnight, Y/n."

And then, finally, I slip into my room, shutting the door behind me. My heart is still racing, but it’s not from nerves, it’s from something else entirely. Butterflies.

I stand in front of the mirror, slowly wiping away my makeup with a cotton pad. My mind is a blur, replaying the way Matt had looked at me, the way his voice had wrapped around my name like it meant something more.

I sigh, dropping the used pad into the bin and reaching for my moisturizer when there's a knock at my door.

I pause, my heart stuttering in my chest.

Slowly, I walk over to the door but before I could pull it open, Matt walks in, his hair slightly tousled like he ran a hand through it a hundred times before knocking. His expression is unreadable for a second, but then his lips pull into a small, loving smile.

“I, uh..” He exhales through his nose, shaking his head like he’s annoyed with himself. “I couldn’t let you go to sleep without this.”

And before I can even process what ‘this’ is, he steps forward, his hand gently cradling my jaw as his lips press against mine.

It’s soft but carries intent, like he’s been holding onto this moment all night. My breath catches as I melt into it, my hands instinctively finding their way to his chest like something I could sink into forever.

It lasts only a few seconds, but it leaves a spark running through me, setting my skin on fire. When he pulls away, his thumb brushes against my cheekbone, his forehead lingering against mine for just a moment longer.

“Sweet dreams” he murmurs, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it.

I barely manage a whisper, my lips still tingling. “You too.”

And just like that, he’s gone, leaving me standing in my doorway, my heart hammering against my ribs, my entire body buzzing.

I can't wait for tomorrow.

The next morning, I wake up naturally, the sunlight filtering in through the thin curtains. There's an excitement in me that I can’t quite shake. I stretch lazily before glancing at my phone, it's still early, too early for anyone else to be up. But I don’t mind. If anything, I love the quiet, the peaceful anticipation of the day ahead.

I slip out of bed, the cool tiles meeting my bare feet as I wander downstairs into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water. It seems like I’m the first one up.

A small smile tugs at my lips thinking about today. Beach day.

Feeling restless, I make my way outside onto the patio, but something catches my eye through the glass doors leading to the patio. Movement.

Curious, I walk over quietly, pushing the door open to step out onto the deck next to the pool. That’s when I see him.

Matt is already up, standing by the small outdoor table, his back to me as he arranges something on the surface. A tray sits there, holding two plates, fresh fruit, toast, and what smells like coffee.

Breakfast for two.

I blink, taking in the scene, my chest tightening in a way that feels both overwhelming and sweet. His hair is still a little messy, like he’d just rolled out of bed, but he’s already dressed in shorts and a loose t-shirt, barefoot, moving around casually as he preps everything.

He hasn’t noticed me yet, so I take a second to just watch him. The fact that he did this, that he got up early, set this up for just us, makes my heart do something stupid in my chest.

After a moment, I clear my throat, and Matt turns, his brows lifting slightly before a slow smile spreads across his lips.

“Morning” he says, voice still thick with sleep.

I glance at the table, then back at him, my lips tugging upward. “Didn’t stick you for the breakfast in the early morning type.”

He shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck, almost sheepish. “Figured you’d be up early, excited about the beach.” His eyes flicker to mine, a little softer now. “Thought I’d surprise you.”

My stomach flips.

I step closer, glancing down at the plates before meeting his gaze again. “Well, consider me surprised!”

Matt pulls out a chair, gesturing for me to sit, and I do, watching as he takes the seat across from me. The morning sun rising higher, the pool water glistening, the palm trees swaying gently in the breeze. It feels intimate, peaceful.

“Thanks for this” I say after a beat, picking up my fork. “Really.”

Matt just grins, reaching for his coffee. “Anything for you.”

As we eat, the conversation flows easily, a mix of light teasing and comfortable silence. Matt asks me what I’m most excited about for today, and I tell him everything, the sand, the sun, the sounds of the ocean.

At some point, he reaches over and steals a piece of fruit off my plate, smirking as I gasp dramatically. “You have your own, Matthew” I scold, though there’s no real heat behind it.

“Yeah, but yours just looks better” he quips, popping the piece of mango into his mouth.

Before I can retaliate, the sound of footsteps shuffling from inside catches our attention. A moment later, the patio door slides open, and the peace of the morning is replaced by the familiar chaos of everyone else waking up.

Nick is the first out, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn. “Look at you two, up and at it like a married couple” he teases, eyeing the spread on the table. “Where’s my breakfast, huh?”

I roll my eyes, while Matt just smirks. “You were sleeping like the dead, figured you wouldn’t be up anytime soon.”

Chris and Nate follow shortly after, both looking groggy but intrigued by the food. Nate sniffs the air dramatically. “Damn, y’all didn’t think to make this a group thing?”

Matt leans back in his chair, stretching lazily. “Early bird gets the breakfast.”

Nick scoffs. “Yeah, well, early bird is gonna have to share.” He plucks a piece of toast off Matt’s plate before flopping into the seat beside me.

I glance at Matt, who meets my eyes with an amused look, before shaking my head and laughing. Just like that, the quiet moment is gone, replaced by the usual banter and noise of everyone together. But I don’t mind, we still have the whole day ahead of us.

After breakfast, everyone scatters to get ready for the beach. I head to my room, digging through my suitcase for the bikini I packed specifically for a day like this. It takes me a minute to decide, but I finally settle on a black two piece, simple but flattering. I throw on a light, flowy cover up over it and slide into my sandals before grabbing my tote bag, stuffing it with suncream, a towel, and a pair of sunglasses.

When I step out into the living room, Matt is already there, wearing swim trunks and a white linen shirt that’s unbuttoned, exposing just enough of his toned stomach to make me momentarily forget what I was supposed to be doing. He smirks when he notices me looking.

“You ready?” he asks, tossing a bottle of suncream between his hands.

I clear my throat and nod. “Yeah as always”

Nick and Nate appear a few minutes later, carrying a speaker and a cooler. Chris follows behind, looking half awake but ready. The energy is high, there’s a buzz in the air, a shared excitement.

We pack up our things and head out, the beach isn’t too far so we decide to walk. As we walk onto the beach, the sand warm beneath our feet, I fall into step beside Nick. I nudge him playfully with my elbow.

“So, did you text him yet?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

Nick rolls his eyes but can’t hide the smirk tugging at his lips. “No” he admits. “Didn’t want to seem too eager.”

I scoff. “Oh, please. You got his number for a reason. What’s the harm in a little ‘had fun last night’ text?”

He shrugs, glancing at his phone like he’s debating it. “I don’t know. What if he’s not actually interested? Maybe he was just being nice.”

I laugh. “Nick, he gave you his number. That’s not just being nice, that’s interest. Don’t overthink it.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “I hate that you’re right.”

I grin. “I know.”

Matt, who had been walking ahead with Nate and Chris, slows his pace until he’s beside me, catching part of the conversation.

“Nick’s got a little romance brewing?” Matt teases.

Nick groans. “Oh, God. Here we go.”

Matt smirks. “Hey, I’m just saying, maybe we should all go on a double date.”

I laugh, while Nick looks horrified. “Absolutely not” he says firmly, shoving Matt’s shoulder. “You two are bad enough alone.”

Matt just grins, giving me a quick glance before looking back at the ocean stretching out ahead of us. “I don’t know what you mean.”

I glance over at Chris, who’s been quiet this whole time, eyes glued to his phone as he scrolls with a concentrated expression. He hasn’t said much since we left the villa, and now that I think about it, he was the first to call it a night yesterday.

"Where’d you disappear to so early last night?" I ask, nudging his arm lightly.

Chris barely looks up, but I catch the small smirk on his lips. “Had some business to attend to.”

I raise an eyebrow. "Business? Sounds sketchy."

Matt, walking just ahead of us, snorts. "It’s Chris. It probably was sketchy."

Chris finally pockets his phone and rolls his eyes. "Relax, I just had to deal with something."

Nick jumps in. "Deal with something, or someone?"

Chris doesn’t answer right away, just smirks before shaking his head. "You guys are way too interested in my life."

I narrow my eyes at him, feeling like there’s more to it than he’s letting on. "So, no details then?"

Chris flashes me a knowing look but doesn’t elaborate. "Nah, just know I had a good reason to dip early."

I exchange a glance with Matt, who looks just as unconvinced as I feel. But before I can press further, we reach the beach, and Chris walks ahead like the conversation never happened.

Nate is power walking ahead of all of us, completely determined to claim the best possible spot on the beach. “Man’s on a mission” Nick mutters beside me, shaking his head as we watch him weave through groups of people like he owns the place.

By the time we catch up, Nate has already staked out a prime spot. not too close to the water but not too far either. “Five loungers secured!” he announces proudly, dropping his bag onto one of them.

“Alright, Nate” Matt chuckles, setting his towel down. “Did you fight someone for these, or?”

“Nope” Nate grins. “Just my superior speed and determination.”

Chris rolls his eyes as he kicks off his slides. “More like you nearly took out a family of four.”

Nate shrugs, completely unbothered. “Survival of the fittest.”

I laugh as I drop onto one of the loungers, stretching my legs out. The sand is warm beneath my feet, and the sound of the waves rolling onto shore instantly puts me at ease. The weather is perfect, just hot enough to make the idea of getting in the water tempting, but not unbearable.

Matt plops down beside me, rubbing some suncream onto his arms. “Alright” he says, turning to me with a small smirk. “Are you actually getting in the water today, or are you gonna pretend to and then just sit here looking cute?”

I scoff, taking off my sunglasses to look at him properly. “Excuse you! I always get in.”

Matt raises an eyebrow. “Dipping your toes in doesn’t count.”

I roll my eyes, but before I can argue, Nick throws his arm around me dramatically. “If you don’t, we’re throwing you in” he warns.

I groan. “You all are mean.”

Chris, who’s already lying back with his arms behind his head, cracks a lazy smile. “Better start mentally preparing now.”

We lounge in the sun for a while, letting the warmth soak into our skin as we take in the beach around us. The sounds of waves crashing and distant laughter create the perfect atmosphere, and for a little while, none of us feel the need to do anything but just exist.

Chris has his arms folded behind his head, eyes closed like he might actually fall asleep. Nate, always restless, scrolls through his phone but keeps glancing up at the water like he's itching to go in. Nick is lying on his stomach, probably still thinking about how to text that guy from last night. Meanwhile, Matt is next to me, shifting occasionally as if he’s just waiting for the perfect moment to drag me into the ocean.

Eventually, Nate sighs dramatically. “Alright, enough lying around. We came to the beach, let’s actually get in the water.”

Chris grunts but doesn’t open his eyes. “You go ahead.”

Nick stretches, sitting up. “Yeah, I’m down. I need to cool off before I melt.”

Matt turns to me with an expectant look, his smirk already forming. “You coming, or are we throwing you in?”

I roll my eyes but stand up, dusting sand off my legs. “I’m coming, I’m coming. No need for violence.”

Matt grins. “Good choice.”

We all head toward the shoreline, the hot sand beneath our feet quickly giving way to the cool, foamy edges of the waves. The water is crystal clear, and as soon as we step in, it’s instantly refreshing.

Nate, naturally, is the first to dive under. He comes up shaking his hair out like some kind of surfer movie actor. “This is the life” he sighs.

Nick walks in a little slower, shivering as the water reaches his waist. “Okay, yeah, that’s cold” he mutters.

Matt stays beside me, watching me closely. “Alright” he teases, nudging me. “Moment of truth, are you going all the way in, or are we carrying you?”

I give him a look before dramatically diving under myself, resurfacing a moment later with a victorious grin. “Ha! See? No need for threats.”

Matt laughs, shaking his head. “Damn. I was kinda looking forward to an excuse to tackle you.”

I splash him in response, and before I know it, all of us are caught in an all out splash war, laughter mixing with the sound of the waves.

As we calm down, Nate suddenly claps his hands together. "Alright, I have an idea! Lets play a game of chicken!"

Nick groans. "Oh god."

Matt looks at me, raising an eyebrow. "What do you think? You wanna take these guys on?"

I shake my head, laughing. "Matt, have you seen them?. We’re at a serious disadvantage here."

Matt grins. "So? We’ve got strategy."

"Strategy?" I repeat, skeptical.

"You’ll see" he says, already crouching slightly to let me get onto his shoulders.

I hesitate for a second before climbing up, balancing myself as he stands to his full height. From up here, I can see Nate already hoisting Nick up onto his own shoulders, calling over to Chris to ask him to referee.

Chris calls out from the shore. "Alright, you two, fight to the death! Uh, I mean, first one to fall loses."

I brace myself as Nick reaches out, trying to shove me, but I dodge, gripping Matt’s head for balance.

"Not happening" I tease.

Nick tries again, but I bat his hands away, and Matt shifts his stance, stepping further into the water.

Matt suddenly spins in the water, making me abruptly shift to the side, just enough to knock Nick off balance.

"What the-" Nick yells as he topples, dragging Nate down with him.

Water splashes everywhere, and when it settles, Matt and I are the only ones still standing.

"Are you kidding me?" Nick sputters, pushing his wet hair out of his face.

Nate shakes his head, laughing. "Damn. Alright, that was smart."

I let out a victory cheer, throwing my arms up. "Champions!"

Matt tilts his head up to look at me. "Told you we had strategy."

I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. I slide off his shoulders, feeling an odd mix of emotions settle in my chest. There was something about being that close to him, his hands steady on my thighs, the way he instinctively moved to keep me balanced, that left a weird, lingering feeling inside me. I shake it off, telling myself it's just adrenaline from the game.

We step back onto the warm sand, making our way to the loungers. I grab my towel, patting the salt water off my skin, while Matt runs a hand through his dripping hair before flopping onto his chair beside me.

Nick, still toweling off, suddenly perks up. His phone buzzes on the table between us, and he snatches it up. His eyes scan the screen, and his expression changes instantly, somewhere between excitement and nerves.

“Who is it?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

Nick hesitates, then sighs dramatically. “It’s him.”

Nate, who had just finished stretching out on his lounger, peeks over. “Wait, the guy from last night?”

Nick nods, staring at his phone like it holds the secrets of the universe. “He said, ‘Last night was fun, we should do it again sometime.’”

I grin, nudging him with my foot. “See? That’s a good sign.”

Nick groans, tossing his head back against the lounger. “What do I even say back?”

“‘Yeah, let’s do it’” Nate suggests, completely unbothered as he sips his water.

“Too forward” Nick mutters, fingers hovering over his keyboard.

Matt, who’s been silent beside me, finally speaks up. “You’re overthinking it, dude. Just be casual, try find out how long he’s even here for. Say something like, ‘Agreed. When are you going home?’”

Nick considers it, then slowly starts typing. I lean closer, watching the message form on the screen, before teasing, “I can’t believe I’m witnessing the birth of your love story right now.”

He hesitates for just a second longer before finally hitting send. “Alright. Now we wait.”

I grab the bottle of sunscreen from my bag now that I need to reapply, shaking it a little before twisting off the cap. The midday sun is hot, and I can already feel my skin warming under its intensity. As I squeeze some into my palm, I pause, realizing there’s no way I can reach my back properly.

I glance over at Matt, who’s lounging beside me, his sunglasses perched on his nose as he scrolls through his phone.

“Hey” I say, nudging his arm. He looks up, pushing his glasses onto his head.

“What’s up?”

“Can you help me with this?” I hold up the sunscreen, turning slightly to expose my back. “I can’t reach.”

Matt doesn’t hesitate, taking the bottle from my hand. I shift forward on my lounger, pulling my hair over one shoulder as he squirts some into his palm. The first touch of his hands against my skin makes me shiver slightly, not from cold, but from something else entirely.

He moves slowly, rubbing the lotion in with firm, warm strokes, his fingertips grazing my shoulder blades before moving lower. The feeling is.. distracting. That same odd sensation I had earlier in the water creeps back in, the awareness of how close we are, the way his hands linger just a little longer than necessary.

“You’re tense” he murmurs, his voice lower than usual.

I huff out a small laugh, trying to ignore the way my heart suddenly seems to be hammering in my chest. “Probably from carrying all you guys in chicken.”

Matt chuckles behind me, his breath warm against my shoulder. “You wish.”

His hands glide over my lower back before finally pulling away, and I find myself missing the contact more than I should. I take the bottle from him, murmuring a quick, “Thanks” as I shift forward, trying to shake off whatever that was.

But as I catch his gaze, I wonder if he feels it too. But then I notice it, almost staring right at me.

As casually as I can, I grab my phone and type out a quick message to Matt:

Fix your pants.

I glance up just in time to see him read it. His eyes widen slightly before he tilts his head, smirking at the screen. A second later, my phone buzzes.

Can’t help it when you’re sitting next to me like that.

My breath catches, heat creeping up my neck as I reread his words. I hesitate before replying, but there’s no point in denying it.

I feel the same.

There’s barely a pause before he responds.

You wanna help me fix it?

I bite my lip, trying to suppress the shiver that runs through me. My mind spins for a way to sneak off without raising suspicion, and then it hits me.

I clear my throat and stretch, making a point to sound nonchalant. “Anyone hungry?”

Nate lazily tilts his head back from his lounger, eyes half shut behind his sunglasses. “Not extremely” he mutters.

Nick shakes his head. “I could eat, but I’m not starving.”

I nod, keeping my tone even. “I think I’m gonna walk back to the villa to grab something.”

Matt immediately pushes himself up from his chair. “I’ll come with. We can make sandwiches for everyone and bring them back down.”

The perfect excuse.

Nick shrugs. “Sounds good.”

Chris barely looks up from his phone, and Nate just mutters something about getting some fries later.

I stand, brushing the sand off my legs, and Matt does the same. I feel his eyes on me as I grab my bag, and when I finally meet his gaze, I know we’re on the same page.

We turn toward the path leading back to the villa, walking just a little too fast, anticipation crackling between us.

The second we step inside the villa, the cool air hits my sun kissed skin, but it does nothing to cool the heat building between my legs. The door clicks shut behind us, and suddenly, the feeling gets thicker, heavier.

Matt drops the beach bag onto the counter, glancing at me as he rubs the back of his neck. "So.. sandwiches?"

I raise an eyebrow, biting back a smirk. "Is that really what we came back for?"

His lips twitch, and before I can blink, he's stepping closer, crowding me against the kitchen counter. "You tell me" he murmurs, voice low, teasing.

My breath hitches, but I hold my ground, tilting my chin up. "You were the one that needed fixing."

His hands land on the counter on either side of me, caging me in. "Yeah?" His eyes flick down to my lips for just a second before meeting mine again. "And you're the one that offered to help."

a/n : LOOK AT THESE HORNDOGS

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

#snowy speaks #fire & desire #snowys sturniolo series #snowys series #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #enemies to lovers #matt sturniolo fanfic

126 notes · View notes

odileeclipse · 21 hours ago

Note

Idk I feel like Pure vanilla would be a perfectionist...like... everything in his room is exactly in its place, spotless clean...his hat is always washed and clean and so on...

Idk he just gives me that vibe

A Place for Everything

Pure Vanilla’s study was an immaculate sanctuary of order and precision. Shelves lined with perfectly arranged books, scrolls stacked symmetrically, quills aligned in their holder—everything had a place, and everything stayed in its place. Even the air carried the scent of freshly brewed tea and parchment, untouched by chaos. That was, until you arrived. You didn’t mean to disrupt his delicate sense of order. It was never intentional. But as you lounged on the couch, the cushions shifted ever so slightly, their symmetry disturbed. Your fingertips idly traced swirls on the polished desk unknowingly leaving behind faint, imperfect smudges. When you reached for one of his books, you placed it back absentmindedly not quite straight, not quite flush with the others. Pure Vanilla noticed. Of course he noticed. His eyes flicked toward the askew book, the uneven cushions, the small disturbances in his perfect world. Normally, the very thought of disorder would unsettle him, a tiny yet insistent weight pressing against his mind. But this time… he found himself hesitating. Instead of fixing everything right away, he simply watched you—watching the way your fingers moved lazily across the table, the way your presence settled into his space like you belonged there. The disarray was still there, nudging at the edges of his thoughts, but it felt… different. Not unwelcome. Not wrong.

Then, you moved his hat. It was a simple gesture, just shifting it aside to make space for something else, but Pure Vanilla froze. His fingers twitched, his breath hitched ever so slightly. His hat had its place. Everything had its place. Before he could stop himself, the words slipped out. “That’s… not where it goes.” You blinked, startled. Then, realizing what you’d done, your expression shifted into guilt. “Oh sorry! I didn’t mean to mess anything up.” You quickly reached for it, ready to fix your mistake. Pure Vanilla opened his mouth to tell you it was fine but the truth was, it wasn’t. His mind did mind, the same way it always did when something was out of order. But it wasn’t the same kind of disturbance. Not the kind that made his chest tighten or his thoughts spiral into the need to fix, fix, fix.

Because it was you. And somehow, even the imperfections you left behind weren’t unsettling they were just… you. A breath of a laugh escaped him, so soft it barely counted as one. With a gentle shake of his head, he reached out and covered your hands with his own before you could move the hat back. “It’s alright,” he murmured, as much to himself as to you. You tilted your head at him, searching his expression. “Are you sure? I know you like things a certain way.” Pure Vanilla hesitated. He did. He really did. But the weight in his chest wasn’t as heavy as it should have been, and when he looked at you eyes so full of quiet concern for something so small it made all the difference. “…I do,” he admitted with a small, sheepish smile. “But… it doesn’t feel as important when it’s you.” Your lips curled into a playful grin as you glanced at the still-tilted book on the shelf. Slowly deliberately you nudged it even further out of place. His eye twitched. You definitely saw it. But instead of fixing it, he only sighed, shaking his head in quiet exasperation, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “You’re lucky I adore you,” he muttered. And despite everything in the room being just slightly off, he found himself letting it stay that way.

#cr kingdom #crk #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookierun kingdom #pure vanilla crk #pure vanilla cookie #pure vanilla x reader

55 notes · View notes

moonlight-joy · 9 hours ago

Text

The Hunter's Heart

MASTERLIST

Fandom: Kraven the hunter

Summary: You’ve lived in Kraven’s mansion as a caretaker of his exotic animals for years. You’ve seen his cold, ruthless side, but you’ve also seen glimpses of the man beneath the hunter. When Kraven returns home from a particularly brutal hunt, wounded and vulnerable, he lets his guard down for the first time. Slowly, you start to break through his walls—and he finds himself falling for you, despite his instincts to remain distant.

Pairing: Reader/Sergei Kravinoff

The grand estate was eerily silent, the air thick with the scent of rain and damp earth. You stood in the dimly lit corridor, your fingers curled around the tray of medical supplies, listening to the rhythmic ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hall. He was home.

Kraven had returned.

You had seen the signs the moment you stepped into the foyer—muddy footprints leading toward the west wing, a discarded hunting knife still slick with blood. He had come back from another hunt, and by the looks of it, it had been brutal.

You hesitated before knocking on his door. In the years you had lived in his estate, caring for his exotic animals and tending to the house he barely inhabited, you had learned one unspoken rule—Kraven did not like to be tended to. He was a man who carried his wounds in silence, both the ones on his skin and the ones buried deep within.

But tonight, something felt different.

You pushed open the heavy door, stepping into the dimly lit room. The scent of iron and sweat lingered in the air. Kraven sat on the edge of his bed, stripped down to his trousers, his upper body riddled with fresh wounds. His breath was heavy, and his golden eyes flickered toward you in silent acknowledgment.

“You should have let me know you were back,” you said softly, setting the tray down on the table beside him.

“Didn’t think I needed to,” he murmured, wincing as he shifted.

“You never do,” you replied, carefully pouring antiseptic onto a cloth. “But I still come anyway.”

His lips twitched in something almost resembling a smirk, but it was fleeting. As you pressed the cloth against the deep gash along his side, he tensed, a sharp intake of breath breaking the silence.

“You need stitches,” you observed, glancing up at him.

“It’ll heal,” he muttered, but he didn’t stop you when you picked up the needle and thread.

The room settled into a strange sort of quiet as you worked. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, muscles coiled with tension. You had tended to his wounds before, but tonight, there was something different in the air. His walls, usually so impenetrable, were cracked.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said after a while, his voice quieter than before.

“I know,” you murmured, focusing on each precise stitch. “But I want to.”

Something flickered in his eyes, something you had seen before but never dared to name. Vulnerability.

For years, you had known Kraven as a hunter, a man of sharp instincts and lethal efficiency. But beneath all that, you had glimpsed moments like these—moments where the weight of his existence pressed too heavily upon him, where he allowed himself to simply be.

“I shouldn’t let you get close,” he admitted, voice strained.

“You already have,” you replied, tying off the last stitch.

He exhaled deeply, his posture loosening, as though he had finally resigned himself to something inevitable. And for the first time in years, he didn’t send you away.

The days passed, and something between you and Kraven began to shift. He sought your presence more often—watching as you tended to his animals, standing by the doorway as you read in the library, lingering in the kitchen when you prepared meals. He was still a man of few words, but his actions spoke volumes.

Then one evening, as you sat by the fireplace with one of the great cats curled at your feet, he finally spoke.

“I never thanked you,” he said, his voice quiet but certain.

You looked up at him, studying the way the firelight softened the hard angles of his face.

“For what?”

“For staying.”

Your chest tightened.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to,” you admitted.

Kraven sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I didn’t. Not at first.” He met your gaze then, something raw in his expression. “But now, I can’t imagine this place without you.”

The fire crackled between you, filling the silence with warmth. The air felt heavy with the weight of unsaid things.

Slowly, cautiously, Kraven reached out. His fingers brushed against yours, hesitant but deliberate.

And you didn’t pull away.

But happiness, you learned, was fleeting.

The night the attack came, you had been preparing the animals for the evening, the air thick with the scent of rain. You never heard them enter, never sensed the danger until the sharp, unfamiliar voice echoed through the halls.

“Where is Kraven?”

Your breath caught. Armed men stood in the doorway, their expressions cold, their weapons gleaming under the lantern light.

And then it hit you. They weren’t here for Kraven.

They were here for you.

A sharp realization coursed through you—Kraven’s enemy had found his weakness.

You.

As they seized your arms, dragging you toward the estate’s entrance, panic rose in your chest. But before they could take another step, the air shifted—silent, deadly.

Kraven was there.

He moved like a shadow, like a storm unleashed, his blade flashing as he struck down the first intruder with ruthless precision. The others barely had time to react before he tore through them, his golden eyes burning with fury.

When the last body fell, silence returned, save for the ragged sound of his breathing. Then he turned to you, his expression wild, desperate.

“You’re hurt,” he rasped, his hands ghosting over your arms, checking for injuries.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, your heart still hammering.

His jaw clenched. “They came for you.”

And in that moment, something inside him broke. The walls he had spent years building shattered under the weight of what he had almost lost.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him, his breath warm against your hair.

“I won’t let them take you from me,” he murmured, voice raw with emotion.

You pressed a hand against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised.

And for the first time, he believed you.

Please support my work with like and comment

#kraven #kraven the hunter #kraven x reader #kraven movie #kraven x you #sergei kravinoff #kraven the hunter movie #kraven the hunter x reader #aaron taylor johnson #aarontaylorjohnson

26 notes · View notes

princess-charlie-of-hell · 1 day ago

Note

One thing that may disprove antis point about Lilith being an awful mother is comparing to an actual abusive mother and wife in the Hellaverse: Stella.

There's a couple of paintings where you can clearly see how content and happy she is with her husband and daughter. In contrast, Stella lacks any warmth or love in the portraits which reflects how cold of a wife and mother she is. Charlie sees her mother as a role model and Lucifer clearly misses his wife dearly which are things Octavia and Stolas obviously don't feel about Stella.

What the fans are accusing Lilith of aren't proven yet so they shouldn't judge her character harshly when she hasn't even spoken any lines yet. We've yet to see what Lilith's true alignment in the show really is but with what the series have subtly told us so far is that Lilith loves her family and that's good enough for me.

Exactly, Stella and Lilith from what we know about are completely different. Like you said, when we compare the painting of the goetia and morningstar family, the difference is obvious

Stella looks she is thinking about Stolas dead body right now but Lilith looks super happy, Stella and Octavia aren't touching each other only Stolas and Octavia are but the Morningstars are in a big hug with each other, Lilith doesn't look like a woman who hates her family here. Also they look so comfortable with each other

And now if we look at the relationship between them, one of the first scene of Stella (ignoring the pilot) is her screaming and throwing stuff at Stolas while Octavia is there

Or at the beginning of Loo Loo land, Stella has the blanket pulled over leaving Stolas with not much

We can see from the very beginning that their relationship is bad and Stella wasn't angry at Stolas because he cheated, she was angry that he cheated on her with an imp and in their bed. She doesn't care about their relationship but about status

And her and Octavia, i think the first time we saw them interacting was in Mastermind after Octavia saw that Stolas will get punished thinking that he died and Stella pulled her in a hug, she is hesitant about accepting her mother's "affection" because this is maybe the first time it happens, she only accept it because the whole situation was too much to handle for her and she needed someone. In Sinsmas we see that Stella laughs about Stolas attempt at calling out to Octavia while she was direct in front of them, she doesn't even sound surprised just annoyed at what her mother and uncle are doing

Then there is the Morningstar family, the first thing we see in the actually show is Luciliths love story. We didn't see Lilith interacting with her family yet because she didn't really appeared in season 1 but we can see that Lucifer and Charlie seem to love Lilith and both miss her

Lucifer is so depressed after she left that barely leaves the room and keeps the family painting there as well, if Stella disappeared Stolas would throw a party. Despite being "split up" he still wears his ring and as Mimzy flirts with him he shows it and Vivziepop even describes their relationship similar to the Addams marriage, everyone who watched or read anything from the Addams family knows that it means they were madly in love.

Charlie talks loving about her mother, she believes that Lilith is doing something important and misses her deeply, Lilith was one of her inspirations to open the hotel to redeem sinners in the first place. In the pilot she calls her mother after the failed interview with Katie killjoy.

And look at Charlie's character, she has no problem of showing her feelings and starts singing at every opportunity, Lilith raised her and if she doesn't like Lucifer what many seemed to think why does Charlie Resembles her father from the character so much?

From what I personally think Lilith saw a version of Lucifer which dreams weren't shattered in Charlie and that why she sheltered her so much because she was afraid that Charlie's dream would be crushed like her fathers and she would end up stopping to see the good in her people like him

So I think the whole Lilith being a second Stella is unlikely. Like if Lilith actually were the villain and doesn't care about her family then it also would be stupid that one morningstar family picture was turned in a poster to be selled as merch like image you buy it and turns out that Lilith is evil, i wouldn't be able to look at without feeling the urge to cry or scream

In my opinion Lilith being the villain would be also disappointing as fuck like we hear the story about this amazing woman who refused to submit to a misogynistic man and fought for her dreams , then she found someone who is a dreamer just like her and together they gave humanity freewill. As consequence for bringing evil into the world they were together thrown in hell, while her husband got depressed she thrived there founding a kingdom and inspired her people and daughter with her voice. Her ex husband then sent yearly an army down to kill sinners, people like her, but she continues to fight till she suddenly disappeared but her daughter continues then to fight for her people because her mother inspired her

Then hearing that she actually never cared about her husband, daughter and her people only was interested in herself would be such a downer. Like the woman who practically invented Feminism in her world is actually a cruel evil bitch who used her husband and manipulated their daughter for her selfish reason

But that won't be the case, I still think that Lilith and Lucifer are still together, like every time i hear about them being separated or divorce my first thought is Phineas and Ferb the second movie with the alternative universe (I think that was a movie) where it turns out the Doofenschmirtz and his "ex" wife are still together but divorced for the publicity so that if he get captured she won't be thrown in prison too , I really think that something similar is the case with Lucilith

17 notes · View notes

daughterofhecata · 4 months ago

Text

Weil ich schon wieder unschlüssig bin, keine Ahnung von Technik habe, und bei Peter das mit den Vibes uneindeutig für mich ist:

*spezifisch tragbar, also irgendwas, dass er in die Uni mitnehmen könnte, bzw zur Arbeit (yes this is about the Dad!Skinny AU)

#idk idk bei just wäre es klar laptop bei bob tendiere ich zu notebook #despite barely knowing where the difference is even #peter wäre halt auch chaotic genug bloß mit handy zu arbeiten aber textverarbeitung ist jetzt nicht so das wahre damit #drei fragezeichen #polls #kaj rambles #maybe gehts mir auch nur um den begriff idek what i'm doing here #i just need to chose *one* word to use in the fic and idk can't decide #to delete later

11 notes · View notes

silusvesuius · 6 months ago

Text

n*loth not being able to bag anyone over the (human term) age of 25-30 at most is the only logical and real conclusion to me because it can be just explained away as him wanting to prove and control everything and anyone (Cus he's a man!) but being stuck in that demographic because his unbearable and vile personality is a force that nobody can look past once they've outgrown the possible fear and idolization period of anyone but also n*loth in particular.

#text #i think even younger ones that possess the same nasty traits can be slammed back 'In their place' (in his mind) by him just bc his -#- abilities and power alone (alt. name the factors that make him 'Cool') that dumbs them down insanely in comparison #maybe by this i mean like; ild*ri. despite the animosity she could still feel very foolish and is conscious of her wuss-ness #if that makes sense #cause no matter the disrespect anyone might have for an older capable person the reality is still reality #tbh i just think he doesn't like to sweat it much and still aims for the younger ones bc it's easier than it would be for someone that's -#- 30+ years old #and once he's proven his point he doesn't find any merit in sticking with older ones cause their interests or anything they offer -#- don't matter to or interest Him personally #i think an older demographic is just more boring to him and he would rather spend his time being metaphorically sucked off for his greats -#- by someone that already finds themselves 'lesser' than him and always will for a long time #than someone that is defiant of that fact #basically the more power imbalance the better #in his mind there will always be one unless he certainly knows someone is his equal (or better than him) but he likes the add-on of an -#- age difference too #keeps it in a safe zone with less problems for him #sorry for spitting again my brain just started machine-gunning thoughts for no reason #also i said before that he's an innocence fan. might not be a total puritan but there's something there #it's kinda like him not wanting to be with a dusty ''OLD'' person that's seen a lot anyway #i'm like barely able to hold myself back from opening my mouth to mention t*lvas where i'm making a point about n*loth's brain where he -#- isn't even needed to prove it #but like #him voicing dislike of n*loth general nauseating character and actions but still sucking up to him while n*loth can probably feel -#- that dislike anyway is cute to me i like to view it as an object being thrown into the wall over and over #where n*loth is proving his own worth to other people by drilling their brains out with proof. not that he needs to #but he would like that to be perfected a 100%#and t*lvas is capable of being molded into that state ....... probably #silusvesuisuis you didnot just confess to wanting to see t*lvas be slammed into a wall you fucked up demented beast you're sick #actually can't believe i forgot to mention this but he's literally so immature idk what he has anything in common with actual mature people

29 notes · View notes

icewindandboringhorror · 5 months ago

Text

I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently

#facebook always does that 'here's a post from this day 8 years ago' thing. and I see old comments interacting #with people and it's so like.. OOOOO~~ where are they now?? what's going on? how much have they changed as people?#how much are they the same? this is fascinating. i should contact them!!' but then it's like... take that to it's logical conclusion though #you would contact them and then IF they even responded it would take you 80 years to respond and then they would #think there was something wrong or that you were trying to be insulting or something. To contact anyone I need to include an 85 page #disclaimer of all of my social issues & mental illness things. 'If i take 3 weeks to reply I promise it has nothing to do with u' etc lol #THIS is why more people need to be into phone calls/voice calls/some form of audio real time communication/etc.#I think one of the main things that's hard about messaging through text for me is it's so unscheduled and open ended #(plus it takes forever if you're talking about anything in detail and gets very long very quickly)#because like you can send a message and then just get a reply whenever. and then you're expected to reply back whenever #so it's like you never know when the response will come or when a new obligation to reply can come up? so it's like this sudden thing with #no outline?? if that makes sense. whereas a phone call is very like 'hello let's schedule a call from 10am - 2pm on thursday'. And you know #EXACTLY when the interaction will start and EXACTLY when it will end and you can plan around it in your schedule easily.#I have the reverse thing of a lot of people (how people don't pick up phone calls/hate calls/only text)#I would literally talk on the phone with a stranger. I would have a discord voice chat with someone I barely know.#if someone I hardly even remember from elementary school asked to have a voice call with me out of nowhere I would do it.#but if a stranger MESSAGED me?? or someone I barely know sent me a TEXT or something?? I will never reply probably #It's just too vague and weird. and you can't read voice tone over text. and the interaction could last forever with no clear end #point and etc. etc. But a call is like. set. established. clear boundaries. you can read the flow of conversation better. rapport. etc. etc #I get that I guess people feel more anonymous or distanced over text?? but you can have fake phone numbers on the computer. or do like disc #rd calls. or zoom without a camera or etc. etc. Also the distance that's present in text is BAD distance because it just means that tone is #not conveyed properly and you will never truly get a sense of the person's conversational vibe or mannerisms or how well you really click.#ANYWAY ghgjh...... I'm so so so interested in concepts of like.. How did that one kid I used to talk to in elementary school #but then they moved away in 5th grade - how did they end up? what are they doing now?? etc. etc. Like despite the severe social anhedonia #and general lack of connection with others I'm just really fascinated in like.. idk. the human development of it all and like #the concept of how we're actually a million different people through the course of our lives ever evolving in different iterations and etc.#PLUS again. i love nostalgia. sometimes old peple you know might remember a shared memory or can tell you about something you forgot #or etc. like it's SUCH A COOL THING in CONCEPT but I am too socially inept generally speaking lol. which people I still talk to today are #familiar with my 'phone call once every few months' communication style. but strangers would just be like... wtf. And I don't blame them #Sure I literally cannot change the physical health + brain issues i have - but also I know enough to not put others through that lol

12 notes · View notes

no1ryomafan · 5 months ago

Text

I decide to change my pic to this fuck ass ryoma frame and I would say I have a new related ramble to accompany this but instead my brain has continuously wander back to the smallest detail of “how many fucking years was arma ryoma actually in jail” and I wish it didn’t because it’s so insignificant to the plot but my brain REFUSES to let it go.

#meg text #getter robo #I can’t make it a coherent post so text wall in tags awaaaaay #but seriously I’m in this weird spot where I’m at peace stuff in armas early eps were dropped and the show still good despite the flaws #we will never know what the FUCK was up with hayato and it’s best to not think too deeply about it #but then my brain goes back to “okay but HOW many years was ryoma in jail?” and I start going crazy #I assumed it was 3 years because they said the getter team project disband and Saotome was dead but- it could’ve been shorter #I mainly wonder this because Genki looks the same between that flashback and current #and obviously while everyone handles trauma differently it’s crazy how this child still barely talks in 3 years #ryoma and hayato also don’t look that different #I may need to rewatch arma even though I already did my yearly rewatch of it and I got other shit to do

11 notes · View notes

feisaru · 1 year ago

Text

Hi @soccerpunching remember when I said I would draw manhandling—

#fei manhandling saru. thatse it thats the entire post #guys i aint tagging this shit #only bare minimum #cs x spop #this is so fucking compromising.#fei is distraught by how serious the situation is and how despite that saru is. still like fucking this #and that this makes his skin flare up as well. that sarus having this effect on him. goddammit #this is where saru and catra differ btw #gods i have even more for this #also like. where saru says sth and fei drops him to the ground actually and saru being like 'do u know how horribly predictable u are?#this was exactly what i was playing at. have fun trying to catch me'#but i cant just keep drawing one manhandling scene from different perspectives. theres other drawings breathing down my neck #but one day #who knows?#feisaru #my drawings #kain kritzelt

39 notes · View notes

sqoa · 3 months ago

Text

"no, baby, we're going to be late."

sex addict!satoru frowns at your words: he looks like a kicked puppy, denied love from his other half. how will he go on in such a state? achingly hard behind the steering wheel despite having drained his balls into you over the hood of his car before leaving for some important meeting.

you're already late, thanks to the second orgasm satoru insisted on pulling out of you. you made a mess of his car, and you worry you're messing the leather seats, what with the heinous amount of his cum leaking out of you. you glance over to satoru's pocket, where a little bit of lace hangs out: he had pocketed your panties despite your whining protests.

and he had made you cum a third time on his fingers as he drove with one hand.

"please," he whines, "i don't even need to cum, baby, just wanna taste you." he's leaning over to kiss your lips, get you hooked on his taste. he's such a liar, you know he'll fuck you dumb with his tongue until you're begging for his cock, too.

"no, satoru."

"i'll.... i'll do that thing you like! with my fingers, you know?" he waves his fingers at you.

"....no."

"babyyy," he whines, and then, as if he's gotten an idea, his face lights up. "i'll let you edge me for a week."

oh. he's good. the image that springs into your head at his words, of him desperate and begging for seven whole days of denial, causes you to squeeze your thighs together. you can't help but think of all the different ways you could tease him, pull the poor boy desperate. he can barely last an hour without draining himself inside of you: a week will ruin him.

"deal."

edging week fic soon :p

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

16K notes · View notes

andvys · 3 months ago

Text

Secrets I have held in my heart (are harder to hide than I thought)E.M.

⭐︎ Warnings: 18+, mdni! idiots to lovers, best friends to lovers, smut smut smut, lots of pining, mentions of unrequited feelings (they're not), slight angst, unprotected sex, breeding kink? kinda. alcohol and weed consumption. high sex?

⭐︎ Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

⭐︎ Word count: 20.4k

⭐︎ Summary: A weekend alone with Eddie at Steve's cabin reveals all yours and his deepest desires, feelings you were too afraid to act upon bubbling to the surface, leading to a steamy night that might change you and your best friend forever.

⭐︎ Author's note: I've been meaning to write a best friends to lovers with Eddie for a while now (especially after writing ikyllatk, if you know you know. this is Cheer and Eddie to me in a different universe hehe). @hellfire--cult and I went feral over this idea and we've been talking about this since foreverrrrr and here we are finally! thank you for inspiring me, love ♡

⭐︎ the library

divider made by @cafekitsune

The sun is beating down on your skin, kissing it with warmth as the cold water from the lake is still clinging to your body, making goosebumps appear as you shiver the slightest bit. Your eyes are closed, a content smile rests on your face, despite the way your blue lips tremble. Birds are chirping all around you, the trees rustle whenever the wind blows, the water splashes when your best friend makes his way out of the lake, cursing a few times when he steps over the sharp rocks on the ground.

You don’t open your eyes just yet but you listen to him moving closer and closer to where you’re laying on the pink towel you threw on the grass earlier. You don’t have to take a look to know that he is staring at you, he always is. Like a weight on your body, his stare always feels like a warm blanket, heating up your insides and making you feel something you shouldn’t.

Eddie’s eyes are roaming your body, your glistening bare skin, the skimpy bikini bottoms that are only held together by the strings on the sides, the little bow coming undone slowly. He kneels down before you, making a gasp fall from your lips when the water from his hair drips on your belly and his cold hands touch your hip, fingers reaching for the strings so he can fix the little bow.

You open your eyes to find him looking down with a smug smile as he plays with the strings on your bottoms, re-tying it for you. Your breath hitches in your throat from the touch of his hand and the closeness of him, if you were to sit up, your noses would bump together but you stay in place, only pushing yourself up on your elbows.

“I’m sorry, sweets,” he chuckles softly, taking his sweet time as his fingertips graze your bare hip, “didn’t mean to get you wet,” he smirks, a look of mischief flashes in his eyes as water continues to drip from his body onto yours.

“Are you sure?” You challenge him the way you always do, blinking at him innocently as you bring your knees up higher and bite your lip, making him gulp and blush instantly.

You always know how to break him.

Eddie is oh so confident and flirty, throwing looks and comments your way that are a little too suggestive for someone who is considered a best friend, but the moment you join in on his game, even if only subtly, he turns into a blushing mess, no longer the confident, cocky guy he wishes to be.

But even when he turns into this, blushing and nervous, you can still feel that one certain energy radiating off him and it makes you squirm, it fills you with curiosity and the urge to cross that invisible line, your deepest desires, the ones that are locked away begging to be released. You never let them, you never even looked or paid attention to what you really wanted or craved. You played his game, you flirted back, you teased him but you never admitted to yourself that there was… something.

“Hm, no,” Eddie murmurs, suggestively. He ties the knot, strongly and then, he hooks his finger around the strap, he pulls it back and lets it snap against your skin, making you jolt in your place, a tiny gasp falling from your lips once more as a bigger smirk appears on his face. His eyes roam your body, he takes you in fully before he leans back and plops down on his own towel, laying down, he places his arm behind his head, closing his eyes to the sun, he lets out a sigh of contentment, acting as though he didn’t just touch you the way best friends normally don’t do. Asshole.

“This is nice, I’m glad we came out here.”

You hum in agreement, taking advantage of the fact that his eyes are closed, you allow yourself to take a closer, better look at the man who had become your best and closest friend. He is attractive, very handsome, you aren’t blind, you never have been but he is your friend, you never allowed yourself to look at him a certain way but lately it’s become harder to stay so… blind, to not let his lingering touches make you weak in the knees, to not let his comments fill you with giddiness, to not feel something when he holds you in his arms, when he plays with your hair or places his hand on your thigh when you’re in his passenger seat.

You don’t know where this sudden change has come from, it’s always been that way with him, from the very beginning, he’s been touchy and affectionate with you but it didn’t always make you so excited, it’s been a recent development, something that Nancy and Robin teased you about, they saw your reactions whenever he kissed your cheek and called you pet names, whenever he walked into a room only smiling the moment his eyes would meet yours.

You never noticed it before, the feelings he left you with after all his sweet gestures and touches, only when your friends had brought it up to you, leaving you a blushing and a confused mess, did you start to open your eyes… a little, and suddenly things started to change, your reactions to his comments, no matter if they are flirty or sweet, your reactions to his lingering touches, the way his fingers would play with yours, the way they would drum against your skin, so very close to the hem of your skirt or your shirt, the way he would tuck your hair behind your ear or wipe the foam off your upper lip after taking the first sip of your morning latte before taking his thumb into his mouth and licking it off, moaning while doing so – what was normal before, suddenly wasn’t anymore, everything he did, everything he does now drives you crazy and leaves you yearning for more but you never dared to be the one to take another step forward, to cross that daring line, to make the first real move.

He is still Eddie, your best friend, your soulmate, the person you don’t want to lose, especially over something like this, over reading into something that might not be there, over losing control of your own feelings. After all, this could all just be a part of… him. Maybe it’s just who he is, affectionate, teasing, flirty, daring. Maybe he is like that with everybody, not just you.

But maybe not, maybe you are the only one and maybe, just maybe he is waiting for you to be the one to make another move, to take another step, maybe he has been waiting, maybe he has been waiting for a while now.

You bite your lips so hard, you almost rip the skin open, your eyes are glued to his form, to the way his chest rises up and down, his wet hair a mess around him, lashes fluttering as his eyes are squeezed shut, your fingers itch to touch the ink on his pale skin, you lick your lips as your eyes follow his happy trail, mouth watering at the way his swim trunks are so low on his hips, his bulge so… god, you need to stop – but how can you? Your best friend is just so pretty. And his hands are so big, fingers so long and you have felt them on your skin before but you would be a goddamn liar if you said you didn’t think about them in other places.

Your cheeks heat up at your own thoughts, though it doesn’t stop you from daydreaming some more and the longer you do, the more you start to lose yourself in them, wondering about all the different what if’s, wondering what would happen if you just made the move your friends have begged you to make, to be more daring, to be more teasing, to break him enough for him to do something you both clearly want.

A bravery you don’t usually have, surges through your body, taking over completely. The urge to tease him back the way he teases you is so strong, so before you chicken out, before you think too much and too long, you reach behind you, undoing the bow he tied on your bikini top, you turn away from him and take the skimpy black thing off, throwing it down next to you, the cool breeze kisses your skin and if Eddie opened his eyes right now, he’d be met with the sight of your bare chest.

You press your lips together and turn around, flipping your hair over your shoulder, you lay down on your stomach, stretching your arms out and letting out a sigh of contentment. You turn your head into his direction but close your eyes, even though you’re dying to see his reaction to you being topless but you are trying to play it cool, like it’s nothing.

Eddie peeks one eye open after listening to all your movement and he almost chokes on his spit when he does, jaw falling slack, both eyes shoot open as he takes in the sight of you, of the skin that wasn’t bare only seconds ago – how, when, what?

He blinks, eyebrows furrowed, lips parted as he is gawking at you, at the way your boobs are pressed against the towel beneath you, at the softness of your skin, at the single drops of water still clinging to your body that he wants to touch oh so badly, your hair looks so shiny and soft, your face so content as you lay half naked next to him.

Eddie’s cheeks heat up when he realizes that he would have seen you bare if only he opened his eyes a few seconds sooner. He licks his lips, nearly drooling over the sight of you. Suddenly, his trunks feel tighter than before when his mind takes him to places he only reserves for late nights when he is all alone and not afraid to risk to pop a boner.

He tries to look away, he really does but he can’t, not when you look this hot. He allows his eyes to roam again and it only makes his case worse, his breathing quickens, his skin heats up, his hands itch to touch your soft skin, his lips long to trail kisses down your body, to have a little taste of you.

If you were his, he would, he would start on your neck and he would kiss down to your shoulder and then your back, and he’d take it lower and lower until his lips would reach those skimpy panties, he’d take them off and taste you the way he always dreamed of, he’d lick a stripe up your pussy, suck on your clit, eat you out like the starved man that he is and he would get lost in your moans and your whines, in the pleasure that only he could make you feel.

Eddie clears his throat, he nearly curses when he feels his dick twitching in need of you. He clenches his jaw, even more so when he sees your lips twitching into a smirk. Oh… Oh.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, his breath halting for a moment when he realizes what you did, you did this on purpose, you aimed to tease him.

It’s not exactly something new, you being a tease but you have never taken things this far, you have never stepped up to his level.

But now that you did… he can take things further as well, right?

If you decide to tease him like this, then he will tease right back.

He pushes himself up, adjusting his trunks, he nearly lets out a groan when you wiggle your butt a little, pretending to get more comfortable.

He bites his lip as he looks around in search for the sunscreen you have brought with you, he finds the bottle peeking out of your bag. He presses his palm on the grass beneath him, leaning over your body to reach for the yellow bottle.

“What’re you doing, Eds?” You murmur, rather seductively

A smirk tugs at Eddie’s lips, the tone in your voice tells him that you believe you are in charge here and… maybe you are, right now, but he won’t let you win so easily.

He chuckles lowly when a gasp tears from your pretty lips after he squirts the cold cream on your back.

“Don’t want you to get burned, sweetheart,” he whispers, closing the cap of the bottle, he throws it on the ground before he lays his palms flat against your hot skin, spreading the white cream all over your back.

You grow flustered and you start blushing, your breathing gets heavier and you visibly gulp when he starts massaging the sunscreen into your skin. You suck in a sharp breath when his hands move up to your shoulders, gripping you there for a moment before he moves back down, the coldness of his rings making you shudder a little.

Eddie can’t even hide the smug look on his face after feeling your reaction, pride swelling in his chest when you sigh so beautifully because of his touch.

You easily get lost in this, eyelashes fluttering, soft breaths and sighs falling from your lips as his strong hands move up and down your skin, touching you in ways that make you squirm beneath him.

“Feels good,” you whisper as you arch your back a little, not knowing that just a small movement like this is enough to drive him insane, once again.

“Fuck,” he curses softly under his breath, he swallows harshly.

“What was that?” You ask, not hiding the smugness in your voice, very well.

“Nothing,” he lies, “nothing, sweets.”

“You sure?”

He hums, shaking his head at your teasing, at the way you think that you will win the game that he started.

Eddie moves his hands down to your sides, making sure to get the cream everywhere, so you won’t get burned, of course. His fingers dip dangerously low to the side of your boobs, and while it was only meant to tease you, to get a reaction out of you, he realizes that it was a mistake, only a little too late – it only makes his case worse when he feels just how soft and smooth your skin is that is usually hidden under all your clothes, when he feels himself craving to touch a little lower, to feel more of you, to make you feel–

“Mmmh.”

Eddie freezes, hands halting at your sides, his big brown eyes widen and his lips part once again, he stares at the back of your head, stunned.

You moaned at his touch, whimpered even, making those butterflies in his stomach feel stronger than ever.

“Why’d you stop?” You mumble, wiggling your butt as though to tell him to keep going.

Do you even know the power you hold over him?

Do you even understand what you do to him?

Eddie bites his lip, he bites hard, hard enough to taste iron. He sucks in a sharp breath, biting back the growl that threatens to fall from his mouth when he adjusts behind you, the rough material of his swim trunks rubbing against his dick. He is fucking rock hard and if you only turned around to take a look at him, you would see it.

“I’m sorry, got a little distracted,” he says lowly, voice getting a little shaky.

He feels so hot, and it’s not the sun that is making him sweat, it’s all you.

He can see the way your lip twitches, the way your dimple shows when you smirk at his words.

“Oh? By what, the birds?” You giggle.

He chuckles, shaking his head at your question even though your eyes are still closed. He takes a moment to look at your surroundings, at the beautiful scenery, the trees and the big lake in front of Steve’s cabin – well, his parents cabin.

God, he wonders where this weekend will take him, you and him.

A weekend you were both supposed to spend with your friends, turned into this. Just you and him, and no one else.

It’s only day one, and you are already close to making him cum in his swim trunks, like some pathetic teenage boy who couldn’t handle his crush’s teasing or touching.

This will either be the best weekend of his life, or this might kill him – if you are only teasing, then this will surely kill him but if you are not, then he owes your friends a lot, for pretending to be sick or busy. He knows that they were lying when Robin fake coughed on the phone after telling him that she couldn’t make it, that she and Steve couldn’t make it, cause he got sick too… apparently.

And Nancy forgot that she promised to help her mom with something, and if Nancy couldn’t come, then Jonathan couldn’t either of course – which led to Argyle staying back as well, cause where would he ever go without his best buddy?

Eddie looks back down at you, at his best friend, who is laying half naked before him so comfortably, teasing him so freely. Another sigh escapes your lips and you squirm beneath him once again.

Yeah, no matter how this will end, you will be the death of him.

“Yeah, the birds,” he mumbles, snorting at his own words.

He leans down closer to you, squeezing your sides which makes you jolt a little, a giggle falling from your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, eyes lighting up at the sweet sound, “I forgot how ticklish you are,” he teases, as if.

“Mhmm sure you did, Eddie.”

With a mischievous smile, he decides to take his teasing further, playfully digging his fingers into your waist, he begins to tickle you, making you yelp and jolt in surprise as you start squirming beneath his touch, giggles now falling freely from your mouth as his name rolls off your tongue so effortlessly, awakening those butterflies in his stomach. God, he wishes he could make you call out his name in different ways.

You jump up, with your arms covering your front, one hand pressing against your boobs, hiding only just a little as you turn to face your best friend. You watch the way his eyes widen as they instantly fall to your chest, lust flashing in them, jaw dropping as his cheeks redden right this second, his expression makes you giggle even harder, even more so when you push him back and he falls onto the grass, flat on his butt, wet curls hanging in front of his hair.

Eddie is so stunned by you, he can barely move as he stares at you, at your half naked form. God, you are so beautiful it hurts.

The afternoon sun begins to turn golden, kissing your glowy skin and all your curves, your hair cascades down your shoulders, your hand that barely hides anything pressing against your boobs, he wishes it was his own. Licking his lips, he pushes himself up on his elbows, letting his eyes roam your body, shamelessly, dreaming about the way he would love to get between those delicious looking thighs of yours, the way he’d kiss every inch of your body, leaving no trace unmarked, the way he would nuzzle his nose into your neck and inhale your sweet scent, not playfully the way he usually does, but with a trail of kisses that he would leave behind.

He would worship you in ways he can’t even begin to describe. Oh, how often Eddie finds himself up at night, working on yet another song about you, thinking of words that haven’t been created yet, strong enough to describe you.

He feels uncomfortable in his swim trunks that are getting a little too tight, his skin feels on fire, not from the sun but from you. He lusts after you, yes, but there is also more than that, so much more. It isn’t just the lust that makes these feelings so intense, it’s all his deepest feelings for you, feelings that only his notebook filled with song texts know about… and maybe your friends, who aren’t as oblivious as you are.

“I’m gonna take a shower, and you should too,” your voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

Eddie clears his throat, watching you get up, not bothering to pick up your top or your dress that you wore earlier, you simply keep your chest hidden by your right arm.

“You’re helping me cook dinner,” you give him a pointed look before you turn around and begin to walk back to the house.

Eddie smiles cheekily as he pushes himself up further, eyes glued to your butt now.

“Are you telling me to get into the shower with you?” He calls after you, unaware of the butterflies that he caused in your stomach now.

You don’t turn around, you keep walking, hiding the flustered expression on your face from him. You flip him off without looking back, biting back your smile when he laughs loudly.

Eddie watches, craning his neck to see more of you, the way your butt jiggles as you skip up the stairs. He bites his lip, groaning at the sight of it.

“Goddamn.”

You will be the death of him.

It’s dark outside by the time Eddie comes out of the steamy bathroom, the cabin is mostly dark too, candles illuminate the living room and the sound of music fills the space. A smile lingers on his face as he makes his way down the hallway, his wet curls bouncing with each step that he takes, he throws on a clean shirt, his gray sweatpants hang low on his hips.

A groan almost falls from his lips when he walks into the kitchen to you standing there in nothing but one of his shirts, now that sight is nothing new to him but it never fails to take his breath away, though usually you have on more than just the shirt. Your bare legs are glowy beneath the dim lights, from hours in the sun and that delicious smelling cream you always put on your skin after showering, you sway your hips to the music, shirt riding up in the process. Eddie can’t help but wonder if you are wearing any panties at all beneath his shirt. Fuck. He shouldn’t let his mind go there, you have done enough teasing for the day, he almost jerked off in the shower and maybe he should have, maybe that would have released some of the tension in him but he wouldn’t have been able to stay quiet, he never is.

God, this really will be a long weekend filled with torture and teasing. He knows he should probably stop playing this dangerous game but he just can’t help but play into it.

He slowly makes his way to you, you’re humming to the music, knife held in your hand as you cut up vegetables, an opened bottle of beer on the counter before you, your damp hair is braided loosely, falling down your back. He can smell your body wash from here, the sweetness of it – of you is so intoxicating to him, he wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around your waist, pull you into him and bury his face in the crook of your neck, inhale your scent and kissing your soft skin, he craves it so very badly, even more so, he craves for it to be something normal.

Eddie wants you to be more than just his best friend.

Everybody knows it, everybody but you.

And maybe it’s better this way, maybe he would lose you if you did find out.

You might be a tease, you might let him touch you in ways no one else is allowed to, you might give him hope sometimes, the hope that you could feel more than just something platonic for him but at the end of the day you are still best friends and he can’t lose that, especially not because he can’t control his feelings.

Because what happens when you do find out and you don’t feel the same?

What happens then?

What happens if it drives you away?

What happens if he loses you?

And he can’t allow that to happen, he can’t lose you, not you, anyone but you.

Eddie knows he should do himself a favor and stop being so touchy and affectionate with you, it does him no good, if anything, it makes him want you even more but he can’t help it, he has to take what he can get… right?

He comes up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist, he breathes in your sweetness, chuckling when you tense up for a second before a cute giggle falls from your lips.

“You scared me,” you whisper, tilting your head back, you look up at him as you ease into his touch.

“Sorry sweets, didn’t mean to,” he murmurs, teasing you with that pretty smile of his as he snatches a piece of the cucumber you’ve been cutting and bites into it, winking at you as he steps away again and takes a look into the large pot on the stove.

“Pasta?”

“Pasta Arrabiata,” you say, imitating the Italian accent that Steve always makes whenever he is cooking.

Eddie chuckles, “wow that was horrible.”

“Shut up,” you giggle, scrunching your nose at him.

If you knew how his heart flutters at your laughter and at your cute nose scrunches.

“Since when do we put cucumber in pasta?”

The disgusted look on your face makes him laugh again, he leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyes you up and down.

“I’m also making a salad, it’s for you, you need to eat more veggies.”

His lips curl into yet another smile, warmth blooms in his chest.

You take care of him, you always do. From making sure that he eats enough when he gets a little too lost in writing songs or working on campaigns to making sure that he wears a hat and a scarf when it’s cold outside, whether it’s something small or big, you are always there to look after him, you’ve always been there.

“Alright, I’m eating the greens just for you, sweets.”

He licks his lips as he eyes every inch of your exposed skin, tracing your soft features with the longing look in his brown eyes. The way his shirt looks on your body, the way your hair falls in front of your eyes despite you tucking it behind your ear just moments ago, the way you bite your lower up as you give him a disapproving look.

“No,” you shake your head, pointing your knife at him, “you gotta eat them for yourself.”

“Are you threatening me?” He smirks, closing the gap between you both again, you instantly lower the knife and place it on the counter.

You shrug, teasing him with a sweet smile, “what if I am?”

Eddie licks his lips, inching closer and closer to you, a smile tugs at his mouth, he hums as he raises his hand up to your face, combing his fingers through your wet hair before he tucks the fallen pieces behind your ear again.

He is unaware of the effect he has on you, of the fluttering in your chest, of the burning in your skin, of the shaky breaths you suck in.

“Then I think that’s really hot,” he winks at you as he moves his hand down your neck and then your shoulder, sliding it down along your spine, lower and lower until he’s holding your hip and pressing himself against you as he moves onto your other side, slower than necessary.

Your lips part in surprise, every trace that he has touched starts to burn, your knees grow weak and your heart starts beating faster – how much longer can you deny the emotions he causes inside you?

“So, how can I help?”

He is teasing you, you can hear it in his voice, and you don’t have to turn around to face him to know that there is a smirk on his face.

“Set the table, pick a movie to watch later, dinner is almost ready.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmurs into your ear before he walks away without another word, giving you a moment to take a few deep breaths.

You take a sip of your cold beer, closing your eyes for a moment, you listen to your beating heart, you feel the goosebumps on your skin, you feel the rush of blood to your cheeks, the weakness you feel for your best friend.

How much longer can you deny what is really inside of you, that it’s not just physical attraction?

Your heart flutters when his deep voice sounds through the dining room as he sings along to the music, your lips curl into an adoring smile. You can hear him rummaging through the drawers, trying to find the table cloth you assume.

Picking up the knife again, you continue chopping your vegetables, finishing up on your salad, though you quickly get lost in this… domestic energy you both have created. It feels so warm, so safe, so familiar. A feeling you can’t imagine sharing with anyone other than your Eddie.

He comes back into the kitchen, humming, he grabs two plates and cutlery and places them on the counter before he passes by you, without a teasing smile or comment, he places his hand on your lower back, he reaches over your shoulder to retrieve two wine glasses from the shelf and steps away again, leaving the kitchen once more.

It all feels so natural, so normal and yet, it makes you struggle to breathe because the butterflies in your stomach go wild – just the way they always do, but now it becomes harder and harder to not pay attention to them.

You take another deep breath, willing yourself to calm down, to push aside your feelings, to keep doing what you did before… be unaware of what is buried deep within your heart. So, you move along and distract yourself with finishing cooking dinner, not allowing your mind to take you further into this pit of hell as you call it, because that’s what love and feelings are, hell.

There is no good in love, there is no peace in having feelings.

It’s a rollercoaster ride that ends no matter how long it lasts, pleasant or not, it ends.

And you refuse to let feelings get in the way of yours and Eddie’s friendship, he means too much to you to risk taking a step further into something that your stupid heart desires, you love him too much to let your lingering feelings ruin what you both have, besides… who is to say that he could feel something for you?

You are his best friend and he is yours, that’s all you’ve ever been and it’s all you’ll ever be, best friends, nothing more or less, best friends who are affectionate with one another, who tease each other, who sleep in each other’s arms and do things that other best friend’s might not do… Though when you step into the dining room with the heavy pot in your hands, you halt in your tracks, freezing at the sight before you.

The table is set but not like usual, it makes you struggle to keep pushing away those feelings that have been sneaking their way to the surface because why did he place the plates so close to each other when the table is so big? And why did he place candles on the table and light them up instead of keeping the lights on? And why did he change the channel on the radio? Why is slow music playing instead of the rock channel he usually settles for when there is no better option for him?

You can handle his teasing, you can handle his touching, his flirting, his suggestive comments and looks he gives you so often.

But this is something else, this is something that would have normally made you run, a table set up so romantically, a dinner that seems to become something intimate. Yeah, if someone else had set this up, you would’ve definitely ran, you would’ve felt anxious, suffocated.

Those feelings don’t exist with him though, it’s quite the opposite, even with the lingering fear inside of you for what you feel for him. You feel giddy.

“Picked the movie, sweets,” Eddie calls from the living room, snapping you out of your troubled thoughts. He enters the room with a grin on his face.

You clear your throat and finally take the final steps to the table, putting down the pot in the middle, you glance at your best friend.

“Yeah? What’d you pick?”

“Something neither of us have seen yet,” he winks at you, moving closer and closer until he is right in front of you again. He grabs the chair and pulls it back, gazing down at you with his dark eyes, “sit.”

“I gotta get the rest of the food–”

“I’ll get it, now sit down, princess,” he murmurs.

Whenever his voice gets so low, your knees feel like they’ll buckle at any moment, shivers run down your spine and your cheeks grow hot.

“Alright,” you chuckle, plopping down on the wooden chair, you gaze up at your best friend, batting your eyelashes at him.

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, there is not much you have to do to drive him crazy.

“Smells really good in here,” he comments, the mouth watering smell of pasta sauce and garlic bread makes his stomach growl.

“Thanks Eds, now get the rest of the food before it gets cold.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he winks at you, squeezing your shoulder before he turns around and makes his way out of the room and into the kitchen.

You take a deep breath when he’s gone, rolling your shoulders and trying to calm your nerves, your heart is racing and it makes you feel ridiculous. You are here with Eddie, your best friend, Eddie. You got nothing to feel nervous about, you’ve been here plenty of times before, at dinner alone with him… though, it was never like this, you never had candle light dinners with slow music playing in the back. And his touches, his smiles, his voice never drove you this crazy before, he never made your heart flutter, his hands never made your skin feel hot, he never made you feel like you’d fall to the ground because your knees felt like jelly, he never made you feel those things before until recently… or did he?

“I’m starving,” Eddie says dramatically as he places the salad bowl and the garlic bread on the table. Before he takes a seat, he opens the wine bottle and reaches for your glass, he glances at you as he starts pouring it in your glass, he notices your flushed cheeks and how fidgety you are in your seat as you eye him up and down, it makes his heart flutter.

“We can’t have that,” you chuckle, reaching for his plate, you start filling it with salad first to which he protests, claiming that it will only make him starve even more. “You need some healthy food!”

“Not too much of it though,” he shakes his head as he lifts the lid of the pot, inhaling with a smile on his face, “I need that.”

Your giggle makes his smile widen.

“Alright.”

“You know I love your pasta,” he grins as he watches you fill the plate.

“That’s Steve’s pasta,” you chuckle.

“Nah, that’s his recipe, you cooked it,” he retorts, tilting his head to the side, “besides, you do it better.”

Warmth fills your chest and your cheeks, your smile gets even bigger now.

“Don’t tell him that! He’ll be distraught!”

“Don’t worry, it’s our secret,” he mumbles with a grin on his face as he finally takes the seat across from you, taking the plate from your hands when you hand it to him with a soft ‘thank you’.

He waits for you to fill your own plate before he picks up the fork or even takes a sip of the wine you picked when you went grocery shopping together this morning. He leans back and takes a look around, your surroundings are so different than usual, so unlike the small apartment he recently moved into where you eat your dinners at his tiny kitchen table. He appreciates the home cooked meals you always bless him with and the way you always want to take care of him, it makes him feel warm, it makes him feel safe.

Eddie wants to do the same for you, he wants to make you feel the way you make him feel but he believes that he can’t measure up, that he can’t give you what you give him, that he can’t provide you the same feeling of safety or warmth and maybe that is the sole reason why he hasn’t made a move on you yet, not because he is scared of ruining your friendship – god, he wants to ruin it so bad. But because you deserve more than he can give you, you deserve this, a big house with a stupid fireplace, a big garden, stability, someone who can take care of you, someone who can give you more than a small, shitty apartment, someone who can give you more than just the flowers he gives you or the pastries he brings you when you’re taking your lunch breaks at work.

Yeah, your friendship is very precious to him, he is scared of losing you, every goddamn day he wonders if this will be the day where you don’t show up for him but it isn’t the reason for his lack of effort in fighting for what he actually wants, it’s the fact that he believes that you deserve better than him, someone less like him, someone more like… Steve.

So he settles for loving you from afar, he tries to spoil you, he tries as best as he can. He teases you whenever he gets the chance to, he becomes giddy when you react to it, when you blush and giggle or even tease him back the way you did today, it sparks something in him, maybe it’s confidence or maybe just an illusion that you could feel the same, whatever it is, he basks in the feeling in those moments.

His eyes soften and the beating of his heart becomes stronger as he watches you, the way you dig your teeth into your bottom lip, the way your beautiful eyes shine in the dim light, the light flush in your cheeks making you look so damn cute, the way your smile only widens when you glance at him, a small huff falling from your mouth.

“What are you looking at?” You tease, putting down your plate before you.

You.

He always looks at you.

Eddie knows he won’t have this forever, someday you will meet someone who will give you everything that he wishes he could, someday he won’t be the one sitting across from you enjoying your dinner, someday he won’t be the one in your life.

“At your shirt, is it new… or?” He teases, acting like he didn’t just get lost in his head, thinking of your future that he might not be a part of.

You look down at his shirt, smiling proudly, you stole it from him the last time you stayed over, “mhm got it from this store called the drawer.”

Eddie snorts, though he adores the look on your face, “you’re so lame, the drawer? Really?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, picking up the fork you start eating happily.

“Who sold it to you?” Eddie asks, squinting his eyes at you.

“Oh, this uh… really handsome guy, said he’s in a band, corroded coffin?” You raise your brow, pretending to think. “Yeah, that’s what it was.”

Eddie’s stomach flips in excitement at the compliment. You’ve called him handsome plenty of times before, but it never fails to make him blush.

“Damn, he sounds really cool,” Eddie says, laughing.

You nod, a serious and adoring look now flashing in your features, no hint of amusement behind those eyes, no teasing, just pure adoration for him, “he is, he is the coolest actually.”

He gets flustered easily when he’s with you but when you look at him like this, with that sweet smile and those soft eyes, he doesn’t know what to do with himself, he doesn’t know what to say or how to act, so he hides his face by looking down at the delicious food in front of him, a sheepish smile resting on his face, one that makes your own even bigger. He finally takes a bite of the pasta and his eyes instantly close as he moans at the taste of it, making you giggle yet again.

“Fuck me, yeah I’m sorry sweets, but I ain’t letting you get married, you’re stuck with me,” he jokes as he takes another bite, completely forgetting about all the anxious thoughts that swirled in his mind just moments ago.

“Oh, you mean I’m stuck being your private chef?”

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, chewing on the garlic bread slowly, you try to ignore the heat building up in your stomach as you look into his chocolate eyes, waiting for him to say that word.

“Oh, then what would you call it?”

Eddie looks at you through hooded eyes, a teasing smirk tugging at his plump lips.

“Housewife.”

A surprised giggle falls from your lips, though your cheeks start burning, especially under his gaze. Something tugs at your chest, something strong, something warm. Housewife. You never craved to be that, you never had such desires. Sure, you always dreamed of finding the one, finding true love, finding someone who will love you the way you can love, the way you always wished to love but that’s it, you never imagined yourself past the dating stage, you never daydreamed of weddings and a husband, you never thought of becoming a wife, a housewife at that but… when you think of yourself as that with Eddie by your side, with your best friend, with the one who had always been by your side through thick and thin, something in you beats a little stronger.

You clear your throat, lowering your gaze to his ringed fingers, you can’t help but let your mind take you to sacred places.

Eddie watches you intensely, eyes lighting up at the flustered state you are suddenly in, a state he only ever sees you in when he teases you with touches, with pick up lines, with his flirtations but never this. There is a little spark in him now, the sparkle of hope.

“Well that would make you my husband.” Your voice is shaky, filled with nerves and something else that he can’t decipher at this moment.

Oh, Eddie would put a ring on your fingers right this second.

He never really planned his future, he never really saw one, especially not one in which he would be happy with a wife and kids by his side but he would be lying if he said that he doesn’t want these things with you. You make him crave things that were never even a thought of his before he met you, you make him want to be that for you, a husband.

He doesn’t believe that he can give you what you want, what you need, what you deserve but he knows one thing for sure, if he was given the chance, he would make you so damn happy.

“Would that be so bad?”

You look up again and into his eyes, something in them is different now, something in the way he looks at you is so… intense and raw, there is a softness in them, one stronger than usual.

Would that be bad?

You shake your head before you can even come up with the right words to say, or with words you should say. Something has changed, perhaps a long time ago or just now, but you know one thing for sure, your heart never beat this strongly before and your hands never itched to touch his so badly.

You know the truth is hidden behind the walls you have put up, but that wall started crumbling a long time ago, long before you had the chance to even notice.

The energy in the room has shifted into something more… intimate and it’s not the candles or the music, it adds to it, but those aren’t the main reasons, it’s the energy you both have created, it’s the lingering touches, it’s his foot touching yours under the table, not playfully like usual, it’s different, it’s all so different but it’s good. A comfortable silence takes over the room as you continue eating and as the seconds and the minutes pass, and you both sip on your wines, pouring a second glass, you both get a little bolder when the alcohol hits you.

Your hands inch closer and closer to each other, your eye contact becomes a little more intense, making your breathing stutter and your heart skip several beats.

And when he is done with his food, he pushes his plate aside and leans his elbows on the table, he clears his throat and takes a deep breath and then, he brushes his fingertips against your own before he envelopes your hand fully, taking it into his large one.

You can’t describe the feelings rushing through you, he held your hand plenty of times before but until now, you never let yourself feel the rush of it, you never allowed yourself to pay attention to the electric feeling cursing through your veins but you allow it now, slowly… you allow it.

“They’re really missing out, aren’t they?” You speak the first words that come to your mind as you stare into your best friend's beautiful eyes.

Eddie looks around the dining room, shrugging when he looks back at you, his eyes roaming your face, his lips curl into a smile.

“I don’t know, I kinda like it just being the two of us, we never really get the chance to be alone like this.”

You nod in agreement, “that’s true, I like it too,” you murmur before you reach for your glass and take a big sip of wine.

“More wine and weed for us,” Eddie jokes, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes playfully, setting the glass back down, you tilt your head to the side, “speaking of weed, wanna roll us a joint?”

Eddie doesn’t want to let go of your hand just yet but he nods, he could use that relaxation anyways, maybe it will calm his nerves around you before he does something that he might end up regretting later on.

“Yeah, I’m gonna clean this up first.”

You shake your head, “no, I can do it–”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says sternly, glaring at you, “I know I said housewife, I hope you know that doesn’t mean slave.”

You can’t help but giggle at the seriousness on his face or in his voice, “Eddie, I hope you know that that’s exactly what most men think of when they want a housewife.”

He frowns in disgust, scoffing at that, he begrudgingly lets go of your hand and pushes his chair back.

“Well, most men are pigs who don’t even deserve a wife in the first place,” he says, getting up, he glares at you and points at you to stay seated. “You don’t have to do all the work, you cook, I clean up, it’s simple.”

A smile graces your features, you tap the table before you reach for the wine bottle, pouring yourself a third glass, “well then, whatever you say, husband,” you giggle and get up as well, holding your hands up in surrender when he gives you a warning glance, “don’t worry, I won’t lift a finger, I’m gonna grab my wine and wait for you in the living room.”

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs as he gathers the dirty plates, “sit your pretty ass down.”

You definitely feel the wine in your system now, that fuzzy feeling and the slight dizziness feels so welcoming though.

“Yes, sir.”

Before Eddie can stop his mouth from running, those words tumble out of his mouth just like that.

“Good girl.”

You nearly choke on your spit and trip over nothing, his words rush right to your core, your cheeks start burning hotter than before.

Good girl.

He called you a good girl, with that raspy, deep voice of his that never fails to make your insides crawl with need, that never fails to ring through your head when you’re in your bed with your hand between your thighs, imagining him and his voice calling you just that.

You don’t know how you manage to keep your composure but you do, only allowing a soft giggle to leave your lips as you continue your way out of the dining room and into the living room, you round the corner and rush to the big couch where he luckily can’t see you, your knees almost buckle before you can even take a seat.

You close your eyes and sigh out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Pressing a hand to your chest, you nearly gasp at the beating of your heart.

“Oh my god,” you whisper to yourself.

Eddie will be the death of you, you are sure of it, if not tonight then tomorrow, and if not then, then on the last day of your trip.

The veil that was hiding all your truths was already being lifted when you were still in Hawkins, slowly everything was coming out, all the feelings you were denying, all the things you were so afraid of admitting, you lost control and power a long time ago. The moment Robin opened her eyes to what was there this whole time, the moment she confronted you about your feelings for him was the moment you could no longer hide. The veil is no longer there, it’s long gone and lost with the wind.

You run your fingers through your hair and lean back into the soft cushions, taking a big gulp of the red wine that will surely give you a headache tomorrow morning, you keep your eyes closed for a moment, you begin to curse her out in your head because all your reactions to his words and touches just now only confirmed all her beliefs.

Fuck Robin for saying all that shit to you that changed your feelings and opened your eyes completely, a month ago. Fuck her for telling you that you indeed have feelings for Eddie, for your best friend. Fuck her for making you start realizing it and be self conscious for it. Fuck her for making you feel scared of losing Eddie because of it.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself, you open your eyes and look around the lightly dimmed room, you take in the sound of Eddie’s voice, of his humming to the music, of the way your heart flutters more and more.

You are so fucked.

You will ruin the friendship, you are sure of it.

If only you knew that this is exactly what he wants.

You keep yourself busy with your wine glass, staring into blank space as you continue letting your thoughts eat at you, letting the insecurities and the doubts creep in, when all you want to do is get lost in the feeling of what he gave to you at the dinner table, just moments ago.

You are so lost in your head, you don’t even notice the music being turned off, you don’t even hear his footsteps or his voice until he is standing right before you after throwing a bunch of different snacks on the coffee table.

“I know the munchies are gonna hit you,” your best friend chuckles as he finally sits down beside you, joint already between his fingers, lighter on the coffee table. He turns to you, wiggling his eyebrows at you as he offers you the joint.

Yeah, maybe this will help, maybe this will relax you enough to get a grip on yourself again, maybe this will stop you from doing something that will make you regret.

Your heart, your body, everything in you seems to be sick of living in denial though because before your mind can kill this moment, you are already moving forward, looking into his eyes, you lean down, closer and closer, you wrap your lips around the joint that is still snug between his fingers.

The widening of his eyes, the parting of his lips, snaps you out of whatever had possessed you, though not enough, not even in the slightest.

You raise your brows at him expectedly, waiting for him to light up the joint for you.

The flush in his cheeks, the rosy color taking over his face, his squirming makes satisfaction rush you.

You were teasing him all morning, all afternoon and every time you added one more, you wanted to risk more, but now things just have gotten out of hand, you got lost in your own little game and you let your feelings, your desires take full control of you.

Poor Eddie doesn’t know what to do with himself as he looks down at you, if it wasn’t for the alcohol in his system, he would lose all composure and stutter like a little kid around his crush. He manages to reach for the lighter and he never looks away from your pretty eyes or your lips, or the shirt that keeps riding up on your thighs, a little more and more.

He lights the joint and he is surprised when you don’t look away, when your eyes stay locked with his and a satisfied moan escapes you – only worsening his case. You inhale deeply and furrow your eyebrows in concentration, a lazy smile spreads on your kissable lips and you lean back further after blowing out the smoke. You bring your knees up to your chest and hand him the joint. “That’s nice,” you sigh out in pleasure, “I needed that.”

“You’re starting to sound like an addict,” Eddie smirks, hiding his blushing cheeks behind his curls as he takes the joint from your fingers and places it between his lips, unaware of the way you follow his every movement as he gets comfortable beside you, resting his feet on the table, he stretches his arm out and wraps it around the headrest behind you.

“What… movie did you pick out?” You ask him and he doesn’t even notice your stuttering or the way your eyes are glued to his exposed skin as his shirt rides up, exposing his happy trail.

Eddie shrugs, reaching for the remote, he glances at you, “I dunno, one of the movies Steve recommended we should watch.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm,” He nods and presses play before he throws the remote on the coffee table, “let’s see how good his taste is.”

“You already know he loves the cheesy shit,” you laugh and scoot closer to him with your wine glass still in your hand, you’re searching for his warmth.

“Yeah, he does,” Eddie chuckles.

He lowers his gaze to your thighs, noticing the goosebumps on your skin, he puts the joint into the ashtray and he reaches for the knitted blanket thrown over the couch, he spreads it open and covers your legs with it, “don’t want you freezing, sweets,” he murmurs.

Your eyes soften for him, a smile spreading on your lips. You lean forward and place your wine glass on the coffee table and then you scoot closer to him and throw the blanket over his lap as well before you place your head on his chest, snuggling up against him with a content look on your face… beside the blushing on your cheeks.

Eddie wraps his arm around you without a second thought – this is nothing unusual for you, neither is the hand holding, or the sharing of clothes or the intimate touches but everything you do today, that you usually do as well, feels so different, it makes him nervous, it makes you nervous, it feels like the first time.

And when you place your hand above his heart, he grows anxious that you might feel just how strongly it’s beating for you, he is scared that you will figure out his feelings and that that will make you run, run from him.

“Your heart is racing,” you whisper softly, causing him to tense up a little but when you press your chin against his chest and you gaze up into his eyes, he feels a sense of calmness bleed through him, safety.

Eddie blinks, not knowing what to say without giving away the truth, without giving away just how much he wants to kiss you right now, how much he wants to make you his, how badly he wants to confess and get it off his chest.

“Is everything okay?” Your angelic voice makes him feel weak, the candle light makes you look so soft, your scent makes him feel drunk, his lips yearn to touch yours, his heart screams for you.

God, he really wants to kiss you so bad.

And he wants to kiss you even more when he sees the way your own eyes flicker between his lips, his neck and his eyes. He tightens his hold on you, prompting you to scoot even closer as you lean your warm body into his as your hand slips down to his stomach, your nails grazing the sliver of exposed skin on his stomach, he nearly whimpers at the feeling. You truly know how to drive him crazy.

“Yeah,” he whispers, lips curling into a smile, “everything is perfect.”

Almost perfect.

It would be perfect if he could just grab your face and smash his lips against yours, kissing you breathless.

You bite your lower lip as you keep staring up at him, you look as though you want to say something, your eyebrows pull together whenever you hold something back, whenever you desire to speak up about something – he doesn’t pressure you to talk though, he never does, he gives you time, as always.

His eyelashes flutter, his lips part in surprise when he watches you move closer to him, closer and closer until your lips are pressed against his jaw, you peck him once before you shyly pull away and bury your face in his chest, turning your attention back to the TV right as the movie begins to play and he is glad that you do, because his eyes widen the way they probably never did before and blood rushes to his cheeks, no doubt making him look like a tomato right now, his heart feels as though it will beat out of his chest at any moment.

You were teasing him this morning, you were very clear about that, the smirk and the smugness on your face gave it away every time but you are no longer teasing now, this is different, this is something else, this is something new.

Eddie swallows the lump in his throat and he takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly and shakily.

He wonders if you know the effect you have on him, he wonders if you know how he feels for you, he wonders if you know just what he would do for you.

“Pass me the joint?” He whispers, not recognizing his own voice due to how shaky it is.

You do as he asks, pulling away for just a second, you reach for the joint and hand it to him before you settle back comfortably against his chest, pressing your cheek tightly against it.

Despite the nervousness in him, he keeps his arm wrapped around you tightly, and he even takes it a little further, becoming a little bolder, he sneaks his hand under your shirt and lays his plat flatly against your warm back.

You sigh in contentment and curl further into him, welcoming the touch of his hand, especially when he starts rubbing up and down.

“That feels so nice,” you murmur, moaning softly, “don’t stop, Eddie.”

Of course it wasn’t the greatest move to make, of course it would backfire, of course he would be the one with the problem. It’s already not helping that you’re almost fully on top of him, hand underneath his shirt as your nails scratch against his skin and now you are moaning because of him.

He places the joint between his lips and takes a long drag, needing it desperately.

“Your hands always feel so nice, Eds.” The words tumble fall from your lips just like that, like you no longer find yourself caring about the consequences of your words or your actions, maybe it’s the alcohol and the weed in your system that makes you so careless and bold, or maybe it’s the reassuring touch of your best friend that gives you the confidence to let you say what’s on your mind.

Eddie freezes, shocked he stares at the movie playing on the screen, his hand stops moving as well for a moment, he wonders if he really heard you right. You press against his hand again, wanting more.

“And you don’t know what they can do, sweets,” he rasps into your ear, confidently and like he isn’t losing his mind over you.

A whimper sounds through the room, your whimper. You try to conceal it by coughing into your hand but he heard it, and he felt how you tensed up at his words.

He swallows harshly, squirming beneath you, he tries his hardest to hold back that growl. His hand slips from under your shirt and down to your thigh when you lean forward to reach for the joint in the ashtray.

“Rolling good joints?” You murmur, trying to hide your nervousness and how flustered you really are.

Eddie can’t help but snort, mumbling a soft ‘sure’ to your question.

Despite the tension in the room and your unwanted awkwardness, time keeps passing and the night goes on, the movie continues playing, moving into a direction that neither of you expected at the start of it – what begins with an innocent scene of the beautiful lead getting ready for her date with the guy she is keeping a secret, develops into something different, something more, something that should not have the effect on you that it does right now but when they start kissing in his car, slowly and sensually at first, her fingers buried in his long hair as his slip under her shirt, you can’t help but bite your lip. Your skin grows hot, your thighs clench together, your grip on his shirt tightens as your mind flips this scene into you kissing Eddie in his car.

The wine was supposed to help, the weed too, but neither of them did, neither of them managed to give you the calming effect that you were hoping for, if anything both only heightened your senses and intensified absolutely everything in you, because suddenly, his body feels so much closer, his cologne so much more intoxicating than usual, his touch heating your skin on fire, his breath on your skin tickles you and those evil thoughts in your head make you wonder what it would feel like to feel his breath elsewhere, to feel his lips on your skin and his hands holding you tightly, keeping you in place as his lips touch parts of you only your hands did before.

Your heart starts beating faster and you begin to lose composure, the rational voice in your head is gone for good, desire and need taking over now, a confidence you didn’t know you had rushing through you as you move your leg, pressing the heel of your foot against his shin.

And while you are getting bolder, Eddie is trying his best to stay calm, to not act upon his feelings and ruin the one good thing in his life, despite the clear signs you are currently giving, he makes no move, even when he wants nothing more but to bury his face in your neck and suck on your skin until you are marked up by him. The smell of your perfume drives him insane, the feeling of your skin pressed against his makes his stomach flutter with no end near in sight, his heart hasn’t stopped racing yet.

The blanket slips from your lower half, his shirt has ridden up on your body, revealing the panties you are wearing, the black lace resting so perfectly on your soft skin. He clenches his jaw at the sight of it, biting back the moan that wants to fall off his lips so badly.

Something else flutters now, not just his heart or those butterflies in his stomach and it makes him so uncomfortable because he won’t be able to hide it, not right now.

Soft moans fill the living room, along with the sounds of lips smacking together. You bite your lip even harder, hold onto him even tighter as your eyes stay glued to the screen, watching intently as the couple undresses each other slowly, their hands becoming more and more desperate on each other, whimpers getting louder.

You are so lost in it, you let your body move on its own, your foot continues to slide up his shin and his knee, hip angling as you twist your body further into him. As the scene gets more and more intense, the thoughts in your head do too.

The coil in your stomach grows, burning hotly, you are throbbing between your legs, growing wetter and wetter each passing second as you imagine yourself moaning like the girl on the TV – moaning for him, with him.

Eddie is frozen in place, stunned at everything that is happening this very moment, not only is the scene very erotic but the moves you are pulling now are just about enough for him to get hard – and he can’t exactly conceal anything, not when he is wearing grey sweatpants and you are tightly pressed against him.

Do you even know what you are doing to him?

When Eddie shifts beneath you and his fingers dig deeper into your skin, you lower your head and tear your eyes from the screen to his lap and your mouth waters in an instant, eyes growing wide and the burning in your stomach only worsens.

“Got a problem there, Eds?” You blurt out as you stare at the very prominent bulge.

He wants to crawl under the blanket and hide his flustered face but instead he rolls his eyes, trying to act cool, averting his gaze from you and back to the screen, pretending that it’s the girl in the movie that caused this.

“I am just a man, leave me alone…”

A giggle escapes you, and you look up at your best friend to find him blushing furiously. His long lashes kissing his skin every time he blinks, his dark eyes shine so prettily, his lips are just so… so kissable. His neck is so perfect to be marked up by you. His dark hair cascading down to his shoulders so perfectly, but you want to make a mess of him.

“Aw, poor man,” you tease him before you finally let go of any doubts, of any fears or anxious thoughts, you grab the joint from between his fingers and put it back on the ashtray and then, you lean back to him and do something that you always craved to do, you press your lips against his jaw, kissing him.

His lips part in surprise, heart stopping for a moment, he stares into blank space now as you repeat the motion, pressing your lips against his skin again and again, humming in contentment.

His legs feel like jelly and if he wasn’t sitting down already, he surely would’ve felt his knees buckle at this electric touch. Words can’t describe the feeling of this, of you. He imagined this so many times, your lips on his skin, just the imagination of it had him feeling giddy but this, he can’t even function.

You move closer and closer, your hand finding the chain around his neck, your breath kissing his skin, you gaze up at him with those pretty eyes that could make him do anything you would ask for.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing…?” He finds his voice again.

You shrug, looking at him innocently, “I don’t know, I just want to kiss your face, is that so bad?” You ask before you lean in again, not waiting for an answer from him, you press your lips back against his jaw, finger hooked around his chain and your other hand moving from his chest and up to his hair, giving it a slight pull.

Eddie’s eyes flutter closed, the soft smile that rested on his features before slowly falling now. He clenches his jaw when you kiss it again and again, his heart races like crazy now, the feelings in him, the love he feels for you bursting in him as he finally gets a taste of what things could be like if you were his girl.

You light up a fire in him, but make him weak at the same time, you make him feel safe but he also burns for you, he desires you in ways he wasn’t even aware existed, only a taste of this, of you, could kill him because if he can’t have you again after having you once, he surely will die slowly and torturously as he forever will be reminded of this, of what could be.

He breathes in shakily as his hands fall to your waist, gripping you tighter than ever before, it takes everything in him not to grab your face and kiss you senseless but it takes even more to stop you.

He wants this, he wants you so bad, he wants to keep feeling your lips, your touch, you.

But what is this to you?

His hand moves up to the back of your neck, he wraps his fingers around it, pulling you away softly with a deep inhale.

“Don’t do this to me now, darling,” he whispers weakly, not caring about how vulnerable he sounds, how vulnerable he must look right now.

You ignore his pleading, and you move closer again, straddling his thigh as you wrap your arms around his neck, you look into his eyes as you inch closer and closer to him, no longer caring about anything. You kiss his cheek softly and then the other, noting the soft sigh falling from his lips, the grip of his hand on you becoming tighter and stronger.

Eddie is breathing heavily now, he doesn’t even know what to do with himself as your lips are so close to his own.

“You’re killing me here, sweetheart,” he whispers.

You pull back to look at him, taking in the intense emotions flashing in his eyes as he stares at you with nothing but hunger, his eyes flicking back and forth between your lips and your neck.

“Why?” You whisper innocently as you lean in again and without thinking, you press your lips to the corner of his mouth.

Eddie’s eyes flutter closed for a moment, a curse word falls from his lips as he clenches his jaw again.

“Because I’m trying to hold back.”

“Who says I want you to?” You ask softly and he opens his eyes again, tilting his head to the side, he furrows his brows at you.

“Don’t do this to me, baby, you know how bad I–”

The brush of your knee against his bulge as you throw your leg over his thigh completely leaves the words stuck in his throat, you straddle him the way you only ever did in his dreams.

“How bad you what?” You whisper as you slowly lean your forehead against his, letting your lips brush against his own as you gaze into his eyes.

You can see the way he is holding back from doing what he wants, what you both want, so you give him a little push. You nuzzle your nose against his, giving him that soft look that gets you anything you want, that makes him weak.

If only you knew just the feelings you cause inside of him.

Eddie takes a deep breath, he shuts down all the racing thoughts in his head and finally, he cups your cheeks, holding your face gently.

“Oh, fuck me,” he whispers and smashes his lips against yours, kissing you finally. He pushes all his fears and his insecurities aside, not wanting to dwell on them any longer, not wanting to think of them now when he gets the chance to do this and your whimper, that needy little sound that comes from you when you kiss him back only fuels his need to kiss you harder and deeper.

You press yourself against him, wrapping your arms around him tightly, you bury your fingers into his curls, taking a fistful of his hair as you move your lips against his, slowly at first. You get so lost in it, loving the way it feels to kiss his lips, to kiss your best friend. It’s everything and more than you imagined it to feel like, it feels so perfect, so right, so safe. You let yourself fall into him, melting into his embrace as his hands move down to your waist, holding you tightly the way you do to him.

The sound of your sighs and moans, lips smacking and the movie still playing in the back, whimpers coming from the girl on the TV makes it all a little more intense, because the burning in your thighs becomes unbearable, the feeling of his tongue brushing against your lower lip as he pushes you down against his bulge has you aching and yearning.

To Eddie this feels like a dream, like it’s something not real, not even close to being real because this is something that only ever lived in his mind, whether he was just thinking about you at work, while writing songs, while sitting next to you or while getting off in the middle of the night, this was only ever a dream but now it isn’t. The kiss is real, your moans are real, your body is truly pressed against his, you are sitting right on top of him, slowly dragging your hips along his aching dick and it feels so fucking good, better than he could ever even dream of.

Everything in him burns for you, his heart, his soul, every cell, every organ, you are like a drug to him that he was already addicted to before he even tried it, but now? He is gone forever. A kiss that could lead to nothing, that could only stay this, a kiss, perhaps a mistake for you that you will regret come morning, enough to break him.

What is it gonna be? The kiss that will lead to the start of something his heart screamed for since the very beginning? Or will this be his kiss of death?

He has to be sure, he needs to be sure so he pulls away, begrudgingly so, he pulls away from the kiss that he never wants to stop, breathlessly, he opens his eyes to look at you for the first time after this change between you both but you are not having it, leaning in with a whine, you peck his lips again, making his heart flutter.

“Baby–” You cut him off by kissing him again, desperately and he once again has to pull away reluctantly.

“Baby, hear me out first, fuck–” he groans when you peck his lips again, whining at him in a way that has him clenching his jaw but this time, he cups your cheeks and pulls you away from him and you finally open your eyes and look at him, pouting at him with a needy look on your face. Fuck. “Fucking hell, wait– you need to tell me if you really want this or if its the alcohol and the weed talking.”

You shake your head wildly, grabbing his wrists as you lean closer again, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his chin and finally his lips again, the way you always desired to, the way you always dreamed of, the way you always denied yourself of it when it’s all you ever wanted.

“Is it the alcohol and the weed talking for you?” You murmur against his lips, looking at him through hooded eyes.

With a frown he shakes his head, “fuck no, I’ve wanted this for so long, sweetheart, you have no idea for how long.” He admits openly, not caring about being vulnerable right now, about admitting his feelings for you – the friendship is ruined now.

Your lips twitch, eyes shining with nothing but love for him, for your best friend, your heart bursts in your chest, everything in you calms down yet screams in joy. You can see the anxiety in his eyes, the fear that lingers within him, you want to take it.

“Good, then we’re on the same page,” you whisper happily, nuzzling your nose against his.

Eddie blinks, staring at you, stunned. A shaky breath falls from his lips, his heart has stopped beating for a moment, the world has stopped moving, time has stopped. He had dreamed of this for so long, fantasized about what it would feel like to kiss you, to touch you, to hold you, to love on you but he had never thought of this, simply because he never thought it would happen, that it would be a possibility, you feeling the same. He thought he was doomed, cursed to spend his life loving you from afar and watching you slip through his fingers as the years would pass, he would love you while you would love someone else, while you would build a life with someone else, he would stay your best friend, the obsessed, lovesick best friend who would never move on, the best friend who would choose you over and over again even if he was given the chance to be loved by someone else, he would never love anyone the way he loves you, his heart belongs to you, fully. He is yours, he had always been yours but he never thought that you could be his, no matter how many nights he spent wishing for it. Life had never been kind to him so why would it grant him the highest wish he has? And yet, here you are, looking at him as though he hung the stars and the moon, as though he is the best thing that was ever created, like he is something pure, something beautiful, something worth loving. Have you always looked at him this way?

His eyes start burning as his heart starts beating again, the warmth he felt because of you, turning into burning desire, the desire to claim you like he had always wanted to, to rip his heart from his chest and give it to you.

You whisper his name sweetly, grabbing his hand softly, you move it down your shoulder, your chest and finally placing it above your beating heart.

“All for you, baby.”

His breath hitches in his throat, his eyes flicker between your face and his hand, feeling the racing of your heart that matches the beat of his own. His eyes soften, love taking over the lust that was flashing in them just moments ago. He doesn’t know what to say, the words are stuck in his throat, he is speechless.

You can see it, you can see the shock in his eyes, he stares at you like he wonders if this is real or not. He is breathing heavily, blinking slowly, his lips part, cheeks flushing.

“Eddie–”

Suddenly, he moves forward and grabs your cheeks again, slamming his lips against yours roughly, desperately. He kisses you hotly, strongly, more intensely than he did before, like he is scared that you might slip away if he doesn’t do it this way.

You throw your arms around his neck again, whining needily into the kiss, you part his lips with your tongue and slip it into his mouth, deepening the kiss further as you grind your hips against him, making him moan against your lips as he holds you stronger, gripping you tightly as though he is scared that you will slip away if he doesn’t.

This kiss is much hungrier than the first, so much deeper and intense, it’s filled with a desperation that was pent up for a long, long time – not weeks or even months, but years. He waited for years for this, you can feel it and your heart races wildly for him. The need to show him just how much you want him too, how you reciprocate his love burns so deeply within you.

You grind your hips against his, feeling just how hard he is for you, the ache between your legs becomes worse, unbearable, and he can tell, he can feel by the way you move your hips, by the sounds of your needy whines.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do with himself, never had he felt such desperation before, such an overwhelming amount of love. He feels stuck between wanting to cry out of pure happiness while making love to you and devouring you vigorously as he shows you just how much he needs, wants you.

His ringed fingers dig into your waist and he begins to push you off of him, guiding you down against the soft cushions without breaking the kiss, he groans against your lips when you spread your legs for him, tugging him on top of you before he can even do it himself. God, you truly want him just as much.

Eddie slides his hand up your body, cupping your cheek once more, he continues kissing you, clashing his tongue against yours, making you mewl as he takes control and grinds against you, a movement that tears out a different kind of sound in you, a whine so needy that it sends shockwaves through his body.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he breathes against your lips heavily as he pulls away from the kiss and opens his eyes to reveal just how dark they are now.

You wrap your legs around his waist, causing your shirt to ride up in the process, your panties exposed to him now.

He clenches his jaw, trying to control himself but it’s becoming so hard when you are under him like this, looking up at him with those needy eyes as you grab each side of his neck, leaning up to kiss him, again and again, pecking his cheeks and his lips before you trail the kisses down to his jawline.

“I need you so bad, Eds,” you whisper into his skin, moving your hand down his shoulder and his arm, fingernails grazing his goosebump covered skin, you take his hand in yours and bring it back down to your body, placing it on your chest, “please?” You ask in desperation.

He takes a deep breath, making his heart flutter and his body burn when he grabs at your boobs for the very first time.

“Please what?” He murmurs as he presses you down again so he can latch his lips onto your jawline. “Tell me what you need, sweet girl. My fingers, my tongue… or my cock?” He surprises himself when those words fall off his lips when he doesn’t even know how to function at this moment.

You shut your eyes and bite your lip when he kisses down your neck, finding your sweet spot with no struggle, he starts sucking.

“Mmm, y-your fingers,” you whimper as you take his other free hand and guide it down your stomach slowly, “want your fingers, Eddie and then your cock.”

He could cum right here and there, he had dreamed of this too many times.

“Yeah?” He rasps against you, still kissing your neck, “you want me to fuck you with my fingers first?”

You nod wildly, bringing his hand down to your laced panties, you spread your legs further, grinding against him needily. You are so wet, having soaked through your panties already.

“I-I always think about you when I touch myself, I imagine it’s your fingers instead of mine,” you admit with burning cheeks.

Eddie opens his eyes widely, leaning back from your neck after marking it up, he looks at your blushing face.

“R-Really?” He stutters, though with a satisfied look on his face.

Through hooded eyes, you look at your best friend as you nod shyly, humming.

“Guess we got something in common then,” Eddie smirks as he leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, he pecks your lips as he slips his fingers down between your legs, finally, cupping your pussy, he presses against your wetness, growling at the feeling.

“Fuck baby, you’re soaked.”

“I always am for you!” You whine, desperately grinding against the heel of his hand.

His cock twitches at your words, stomach tensing up.

The thought that you might’ve been sitting next to him during movie nights, squirming because of him, waiting to go home so you could touch yourself while thinking of him drives him insane. If he had known… he could’ve done this way sooner.

Eddie pushes your panties aside, dipping his fingers through your folds, he makes both you and himself moan.

“Don’t tease,” you whimper, bucking your hips and pressing yourself against him as he teases your entrance.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Eddie says as he brings his digits up to your clit, “can’t believe you’re letting me do this.”

While the shocked look on his face and the disbelief is cute, you can tell what is going on – what went on in his head all this time that he thought that his feelings would never be reciprocated.

You grab his face and smash your lips against his again, kissing him just as roughly as he kissed you the second time, you try to show him, to make him feel what had been there all this time, and he welcomes it so happily, kissing you back right away while his fingers continue to move against your clit, teasingly at first, intensifying the aching inside of you. He licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours as he moans needily, getting lost in the feeling he had craved for so long.

His stomach flutters when you wrap one leg around his waist while rolling your hips, wanting and needing more, he can feel you getting wetter and wetter, moans getting louder, lips moving sloppier. He slips his fingers lower, dipping his middle finger into you slowly, inching it inside of you, pulling the neediest sounds out of you as you clench around him already.

“Fuck,” he mumbles against your mouth, “you’re so tight.”

“More!” You demand with a whine, making him chuckle.

“More huh? One finger not enough for you, sweets?” He asks to which you shake your head, furrowing your brows when he adds a second finger, scissoring them inside of you as he opens you up.

“No, I-I want more,” you whimper at the feeling of him splitting you open, preparing you for his dick, just the thought of it has you drooling already. “I need–” the words die on your tongue and you quickly forget what you even wanted to say when he starts fucking you in slow but deep movements.

“You need what, hmm?” He taunts you, unable to hide the satisfied smirk on his face as he watches you fall apart beneath him, losing your mind over just his fingers as your jaw falls slack and those sweet sounds begin to fill the room along with the squelching of your pussy. “God… You’re so fucking wet.” Eddie doesn’t even know what to do with himself, his heart is beating like crazy, his cock is aching in his grey sweats that feel way too tight by now, pre cum already leaking through the thick material, something he should feel embarrassed about, but he can’t, not when you look him up and down like you’re some hungry and feral animal in heat.

“All because of you, I’ve been wet all day!” You whine as you grab at his hair when he buries his face in your neck, breathing heavily against your skin as he covers you in love bites. He growls against you, loving those words a little too much.

His wrist starts moving faster, fingers splitting you open, he fucks them in and out of you.

“Do you fuck your tight little pussy like this too?”

Your brows are scrunched together so tightly, eyes rolling back when he curls them inside of you, hitting just the right spot to make you cry out.

“N-No! Not t-this good!”

You roll your hips against his hand, craving to feel him deeper. Your hands are all over him, his hair, his shoulders, his back, gripping at his shirt as you hold on for dear life while he sucks on your neck and fingerfucks your sopping pussy. The room is filled with such dirty sounds, something that should leave you a blushing mess, something that should leave your cheeks burning in embarrassment but you cannot bother to care, it just feels so good and Eddie fucking loves it.

He pulls back to look at you, to admire your face and those marks he left on you, proudly he looks down at you, a look of love, a look of lust flashing in his eyes. He watches the way you bite your lip, eyes open widely again, you admire him too. And then, you push yourself up on your elbow, pecking his lips before you look down at his hand, wanting to see, wanting to watch his fingers moving in and out of you.

“You like that, huh?” He mumbles as he presses his forehead against yours, “you like being fucked by your best friend like this?”

You whimper again, louder this time as you nod, clenching around his fingers so tightly that he can’t help but growl – how is he going to last? How will he be able to control himself not to cum the second he enters you?

Everything becomes so much hotter, the air around you, the energy in this room, his body against yours, his fingers inside of you, the coil in your stomach, everything starts burning and somehow, it only fuels the need in you.

You grab at the hem of your shirt and push it up to your collarbones, exposing your chest to him, your boobs bounce as you throw your head back against the pillow to see him better and his reaction does not disappoint, if you weren’t so lost in pleasure you would have giggled at the awestruck look on his face, at the wide eyes and the parted lips.

“Baby,” he whispers as he presses his large hand to your now bare waist, slipping it upwards slowly, “you’re unreal, fuck… you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs as though in disbelief, staring down at you as though you are something that came straight out of his imagination. He grabs your boob roughly, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he leans down and wraps his lips against the other, wasting no time to suck on it, making you arch your back against him as you throw your hand into his curls, fingers grazing his scalp as you give it a harsh tug, something that he fucking loves.

“I-I… oh my god!” You whimper as tears begin to pull in your eyes when he presses his thumb to your clit, teasing you. “D-Don’t stop! Don’t stop, Eddie! That feels so good!” You nearly scream as he starts moving his fingers faster than before, fucking them in and out of you roughly. You are clenching around him, digging your heel into his ass as you move along to his thrusts.

He looks up at you, loving the sight of you coming undone before him, it’s the prettiest sight to him. He can’t wait to watch you fall apart beneath him when he actually fucks you. He licks around your nipple, adding more pleasure to your body.

“Eddie!” You writhe beneath him, blinking the tears away as you look down at him. Your stomach tenses up, burning as the pleasure builds up more and more, almost becoming unbearable, everything inside of you is lit on fire, absolutely every part of you. Your toes curl, your knuckles turn white from how rough you are grabbing at his curls, the sounds that fall from your mouth are almost not recognizable, sounding too pornographic but you have never felt anything like this before, especially not from just being finger fucked.

Eddie pushes himself back up, straightening his back, he slides his hand further up your chest, passing your collarbones and settling around your throat, he tests the waters at first, needing you to be okay with this – he watches the way your eyes darken at this, lips parting as you push yourself up on your elbows, you bring your hand up to his wrist, wrapping your fingers tightly around it, you press it harder against your throat, asking him to choke you.

Eddie laughs darkly, lips curling into a satisfied grin, he shakes his head at you, “of course you’re into that shit. You’re a naughty girl aren’t you?”

It takes you a moment to answer his question because the view before you is just a little too distracting. Eddie hovers over you with one hand between your thighs, knuckle deep buried inside of you while his other hand is now wrapped around your throat, rings on, veins popping out of his tattooed forearm, dark curls falling in front of his face as he looks down at you like he wants to devour you but make love to you at the same time.

God, he is beautiful.

Your eyes move down his body, the wet patch on his sweatpants, the bulge making you drool, making you want to drop to your knees for him, worship him, choke on him, suck the soul out of him. You can’t help yourself, moving your hand down his stomach, you grab his dick, wiping the smirk off his face completely as he moans loudly.

“F-Fuck, sweetheart.”

You palm him through his sweats, teasing him the way he teased you, though Eddie is less patient than you are. His hips stutter, a whimper falls off his lips so prettily and you almost tease him for it but he curls his fingers so deeply inside of you, presses his thumb against your clit so strongly that your vision blurs for a second.

“Eddie… Eddie!” You say his name twice, pressing your hand stronger against him, you hook your fingers around the band of his pants.

“D-Don’t tease me or else I’ll cum right this second,” he growls as his cheeks start burning at his words.

“Don’t do that,” you warn as you push his pants down just enough, his dick slaps against his stomach, precum leaking out and rolling down his length, his tip an angry red, thick veins so prominent. Your eyes widen and your mouth waters at the sight of him, of his size, his length.

Eddie looks down at you with burning cheeks and begging eyes, he feels the way you clench around his fingers, feels how you soak his digits.

You look at him intensely, watching him fall apart at nothing but the touch of your hand, his eyelashes flutter, a content sigh falling from his lips when you wrap your fingers around his length, “your cock is so pretty, Eds,” you purr, jerking him off slowly, you tease him a little, “I want to choke on it.”

His hips stutter, cock twitching in your hand as he whimpers at your words, “fuck… you can’t just say that to me.”

You pull your hand away from him, holding it up to him, “spit.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, eyes darkening further but he complies, right away, he spits into your hand and watches the way you bring it back down to his dick, wrapping your fingers around him again, you grip him just perfectly, jerking him off in a way that he only ever dreamed off.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he moans, clenching his jaw in concentration, his eyes moving back and forth between your glistening pussy and your hand getting him off. “I-I won’t last long,” he warns you, wanting to get lost in the pleasure, but even more so, he wants to feel you wrapped around him.

With your free hand, you tug at his wrist, needing to feel his lips on yours again and without wasting a second, he slams his mouth against yours, kissing you roughly as he takes full control, parting your lips with his tongue, he moans into your mouth when you clench around his fingers again.

The room is now filled with heavy moans, no longer coming from the TV but from you and him, desperation so clear in both your voices, lips smacking against one another so needily and the alcohol, the weed in your systems only makes it all a tad bit more intense.

As much as Eddie is enjoying the feeling of your hand wrapped around him, he has to stop you or else he will cum before getting what he actually wants.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs against you, lips twitching when you already whine in protest, “baby, I-I fuck… I need you stop or else I’ll cum too fucking soon.”

You pull away begrudgingly, wanting to pout at him but he quickly distracts you by speeding up his fingers inside of you. Letting go of your throat, he brings his now free hand down to your clit, wasting no second to play with your sensitive nub while he curls and slams his fingers in and out of you.

A gasp falls from your lips as he repeatedly brushes your sweet spot, the one that allows you to see stars. A single tear slips down your cheek, one that he instantly kisses away. You want to look at him, you want to watch your best friend but the pleasure becomes too much and you can’t help but shut your eyes tightly. Your stomach burns in a way that has you whimpering and when you try to close your legs to relieve that pleasurable pain, he grabs your knee and stops you.

“I can feel you clenching around my fingers, baby,” he murmurs hotly against your lips, “I know you want to cum, so let go for me,” he whispers, “let go.” One more swipe against your clit, one last thrust, one more kiss to your neck and you come undone for your Eddie, leaking around his fingers as your body trembles beneath his.

“Oh my god,” you whisper.

He slows down his movements, looking down at your legs to see them shaking, just from this. He lets you ride out your orgasm, giving you a moment to catch your breath. He kisses your face, your cheeks, your forehead, your jawline and your lips. And then, he pulls his fingers out of you, his mouth waters at the sight of your slick, wasting no time to bring his digits up to his lips, he dips them on his tongue, closing his eyes at your taste, he moans loudly.

You open your eyes at the sound, stunned, you stare at him in hunger and lust, watching the way he laps at his fingers that were inside of you just seconds ago. His eyes are closed and he looks content. If you hadn’t been so feral already, you definitely would have been by now.

“You’re even sweeter than I thought,” he mewls after releasing his fingers with a pop, opening his eyes to look down at you with a smirk. “I can’t wait to take my time and eat your pussy.”

You grab him by the chain around his neck, tugging at it harshly, you’re surprised it doesn’t break by the force, you pull him back down against you and kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue.

Eddie smiles against your lips, loving the way you moan at your own taste. He feels your hands sliding down his back, tugging at his shirt, demanding him to take it off and he does so instantly, only breaking the kiss for a second so he can tear it off his skin before his lips are back on yours, his pants are next to go as you push them down further, with your help he kicks them off, not caring where they land.

He hooks his finger around your ruined panties, he begins to tug at them and you push your hips up so he can take them off, dragging them down your legs, he throws them to the ground beside his clothes before you both pull away from the kiss to take off the shirt that is still bunched up over your chest.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, looking at you in awe and then, his lips return to you and he places his elbows on either side of your head, pressing his chest against yours as you wrap your legs around his waist, tugging him closer and closer until nothing separates you any longer, until he feels your heat against his aching dick and he is so close, so close to getting what he wanted, until he remembers.

“Fuck,” he curses in annoyance, clenching his jaw already as he breaks the kiss, “wait…” But you don’t listen, cupping his cheeks, you make it even harder for him when you keep kissing him, pleading for more.

Frustration bubbles up inside of him and he almost wants to cry.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, shakily. “Wait, wait, wait…”

Finally, you pull away, eyes filled with curiosity, “what?”

“I don’t–” he cuts himself off, rolling his eyes as he clenches his fists and closes his eyes for a moment, “I don’t have a condom,” he says through gritted teeth, feeling dejected but then he feels you pull him closer again, cupping the back of his neck, you press your lips back against his.

“It’s okay, I’m on birth control and I’m clean,” you whisper, pressing your heel against his bum, “I waited too long for this, so don’t stop… please, Eddie.”

A growl threatens to spill from his lips, the feeling of frustration is suddenly replaced by something else, not only the need he had felt for so long but something else, something much stronger, something that has him fighting his inner demons.

He opens his eyes, staring at you as though you had gone crazy.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me, sweets?”

You giggle so cutely at that, in a way that makes him want to pound you into this couch until you are nothing but a screaming mess.

“I have an idea,” you admit smugly, batting your eyelashes at him as your eyes flicker back and forth between his tattoos and his lips, hand already moving down his stomach, fingers reaching for him, you bite your lip as you look into his eyes, he is staring at you so intensely that it makes you blush. You wrap your fingers around his length again, mewling when you guide him through your wet folds, teasing both you and himself.

Eddie grips the pillow beneath your head, cursing at the feeling. You can tell that he is trying to control himself, trying to keep his composure but he is losing it quickly when he feels your heat, your wetness.

With your free hand, you hold onto his bicep, looking up at him with begging eyes, “please, fuck me, Eddie,” you whisper as you tilt your head up to kiss his lips, “show me how bad you want me, don’t hold back… please–”

With a growl, he lets your words die on your tongue, replacing your hand with his own, he guides himself to your entrance, nudging it with the leaking tip of his cock, he presses his forehead and his lips to yours as he thrusts inside of you, torturously, splitting you open around his length.

His heart could burst for feeling you so close, so intimately, his love for you burning stronger than ever, the immortal flame getting bigger and bigger, his body feels on fire, his soul feels at home and now he knows you feel the same, when you hold him close and you kiss him so passionately, tightening your legs around his waist in order to feel him closer, whimpering into him in such a needy way while you keep grabbing at him like he isn’t close enough despite being pressed against you, he knows you feel the same, in every way.

He pushes into you deeper and deeper, scrunching his eyebrows in concentration as he feels you fully, working you open with nothing between you. He feels your warmth, feels your heat around him, your wetness dripping down onto the couch beneath you as fills you up completely. He never felt anything like this before, he never thought he would but god, he is already addicted, he had always been to you but now even worse, he will never be the same again, he will come back to Hawkins a changed man.

“Fucking hell, darling,” he growls against your lips as he stills inside of you, giving you a moment to adjust to his size and himself a moment to concentrate so he doesn’t ruin this by coming too soon, though the thought of filling you up with his seed drives everything in him crazy, he wants it, craves it so bad. “You feel so… so perfect.”

You’re wailing, squirming beneath him, already looking down, wanting to see your bodies connected as sensitive whimpers escape your mouth.

“Y-You’re so big, Eddie,” you say, eyes blurred with tears, words leaving your mouth breathlessly, “hurts so good.”

Your words don’t exactly do him a favor, especially when he opens his eyes and he looks down at you, watching the way your chest rises up and down heavily, the way you look down between your legs in desperation before your big eyes look up at him, glassy. Your lips are so puffy from all the kissing, your forehead glistening with sweat, your cheeks flushed.

Your walls flutter around him, making it harder and harder for him.

Eddie grabs your chin, “you’re so fucking gorgeous, baby, so fucking sweet and good for me but you’re driving me crazy, right now.”

“Fuck me,” you whimper, pouting at him as you hold his bicep harder, “please, fuck me, Eddie. I need it, I need you so bad– ah!” You scream out when he pulls out and slams back inside of you again.

“Shh, I got you, I got you, baby,” he shushes your words, “can’t believe you are so desperate for my cock.”

Your nails dig into his skin, your free hand gets lost in his hair, tugging at his curls as you roll your hips against his, going crazy at the feeling of him inside of you.

“Please, please, please!”

Eddie groans at your pleading, at the obvious desperation, at the need that you feel for him, and only him. His left knee digs into the soft cushions on the couch and he places his right foot against the floor, watching your face intently as he starts rolling his hips, making you gasp out loudly.

“Oh my–” He pants, eyes rolling back as your name falls from his lips.

“You… I…” You stutter, unable to find the right words, to even come up with anything as you lose yourself in this feeling. Your mouth waters and so do your eyes, his chain dangles before your face as he thrusts into you, faster and faster, deeper and rougher. You can’t help but clench around him, he fills you up so perfectly, his tip brushes against that one spot so rightly.

You throw your arms around him as he cups the top of your head, holding eye contact with you as he rolls his hips harder.

“I’m so fucking obsessed with you, do you even know that?” He kisses your lips, smacking them loudly against yours.

“Mmm, I’m obsessed with you too, baby,” you whimper as you meet his thrusts, rolling your hips as well.

“I never thought I’d get to have this, to have you.”

You only hold onto him tighter in response, leaning into his neck, you brush your nose against it and latch your lips onto his neck, pecking along until you find that one spot that makes him whine, you start sucking, marking him up the way he did to you, not knowing just how feral that makes him.

To wear your marks on his skin, to be claimed as yours makes his heart burst but it awakens something in him, because suddenly, he feels the need to pound you into this couch and he does so, he snaps his hips into yours, thrusting roughly.

“Eddie!” You scream out in a choked sob, digging your nails into his skin as you cling to his body.

“You feel so fucking good,” he moans loudly, not bothering to hide just how desperate you make him feel. He cups the back of your neck and pulls you back down, wanting and needing to see your face, he wastes no second before his lips are back on yours and his hips strike roughly into you, cock slamming in and out of you, the squelching sounds of your pussy filling the room, along with your moans and the slapping sounds as he fucks you.

Neither of you want to pull away from the kiss, no matter how sloppy it gets, you don’t want to break the kiss and neither does he, not even when you grow breathless. You cling to each like you never did before, welcoming the pleasure that becomes almost too much. There is soreness in your thighs, burning in your lower back and an overwhelming sensation inside of you, an itch that only he can mend.

And Eddie, he feels as though he is losing his mind, getting to feel this, to feel you, to kiss you and swallow your moans as your dripping walls cling to his cock, twitching around him and begging to be filled. Your arms and legs are so tight around him, you beneath him like he had only seen you in his dreams and in his imagination, you’re shaking, whining and trembling and you are close, he can feel it by the way you are getting tighter and tighter after each of his thrusts.

Reaching down, he hooks his forearm around the back of your knee and he brings it up, pushing it higher until he can thrust into you from a different angle, one that makes you scream out with a high pitched moan and the neediest look he had ever seen on your face.

“Fuck… just like that, baby, scream for me,” he rasps out.

“Y-You’re so good, fuck me… Eds! Your cock feels so nice, please don’t stop, don’t ever stop!” You sputter, not knowing just how those words make him feel.

You don’t know where to look, his pretty face, how he looks as he fucks you like you only ever dreamed of, how pretty his face is when he moans your name so sexily or how his glistening cock pounds in and out of you.

And Eddie struggles just the same, though he settles on watching your beautiful face, wanting to see you fall apart more and more.

And though you don’t want this moment to end, and neither does he, you both drag it out for as long as you can, not caring about anything anymore, not caring about the mess you are making on the couch. You are both sweaty, you are leaking down onto the cushions and Eddie is sure that he ripped a hole into the pillow beneath you earlier from how roughly he held it.

A strangled whine leaves your lips and he knows you can’t hold on any longer, so he brings his hand down your stomach, pressing his fingers against your clit, causing you to jerk and whimper against him.

“You’re close, baby, I can feel it,” he whispers against your neck, not slowing down his movements in the slightest, if anything, he starts fucking you even deeper, making you scream louder now as your fingernails rip through his skin from how hard you’re grabbing him and he welcome that pleasuring burn, “cum around my cock, do it for me, sweetheart. I know you want to be my good girl.”

With another loud whine, you finally let go of him, arching your back and shutting your eyes tightly, you cum around your best friend's cock, for the first but definitely not the last time. You tighten around him so strongly that his hips stutter and his knees almost buckle, heat spreads through his skin and his stomach tightens as his own body screams for release.

He can’t wait any longer either and panic ripples through him when you hold him tighter than before, locking him in as you refuse to let go. It makes his heart flutter and it does make him want to release but–

“I need to pull out, sweetheart,” he says shakily, knowing all too well that he doesn’t actually want it and apparently, you don’t either because you start shaking your head at him, opening your needy eyes.

“No, no, don’t make a mess– cum inside of me, please!”

His hips stutter once more, his dick twitches achingly inside of you, “you can’t just fucking say that–” he whimpers, unable to finish the sentence, one more thrust and he spills inside of you, coating your walls with his seed as your name falls from his lips before he smashes his lips to yours for the hundredth time tonight, swallowing your cry.

Tears of pleasure run down your cheeks, your leg starts slipping from his waist and his thrusts slow down, though his grip doesn’t loosen on you, he continues to hold you close, the way you do as well as you grab his shoulder and his bicep, squeezing him tightly while your tongue clashes against his.

Your walls spasm and contract around his length, sending shockwaves and an unbearable amount of pleasure through his sensitive body.

Slowly, he removes his hand from between your legs, sliding it up your hot body until he is cupping your cheek again, he makes you both whimper when he pulls his softening cock out of you.

Your name rolls off his tongue when you both pull away from the kiss, he says it like it’s a blessing, like a prayer. Your eyes make contact again and you stare at each other for a moment, lovingly, adoringly, and then, you both smile and giggle and press your lips back against each other, pecking one another again and again.

“My Eddie,” you whisper as you admire the marks you left on him.

“Fuck,” he whispers when he realizes that this isn’t just a moment, that this isn’t just for now, for tonight, that you waited for it just like he has. He looks down at you, brushing away and tucking your hair behind your ear as he caresses your cheek, his heart soaring in his chest. “I can’t believe this happened.”

You giggle at him, “I’m glad it happened.”

“Yeah?” He grins lazily, eyes dropping to your chest as he leans down and presses his lips to your jaw, “I’m fucking on top of the world right now.”

You brush your fingers through his curls, giggling yet again.

“You’re a dork.”

“Yeah, but I’m your dork, right?” He asks with a hopeful glint in his eyes, one that questions more than just this. He wants to be yours, he wants it so badly.

You nod happily, eyes flashing with happiness.

“Mhmm, you’re mine, all mine.”

“Fuck,” he whispers as he feels his sensitive dick twitching at your words, heart bursting inside of him, “I’m yours, all yours.”

You tug him closer and closer, breathing against his lips as you eye him hungrily again, you feel him leaking out of you and it only makes your thighs burn again, “and I’m yours.”

“Yeah, you are,” he rasps as his fingers dip inside of you, he groans at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you, he pushes it back into you with a moan, “you’re mine, sweetheart.”

“Mmm, Eddie,” you mewl, pushing your hips up and chasing for more already.

“You want more?”

You nod, “yes… more, please!”

Not needing to be told twice, he slowly pushes his fingers and his cum back into you, making you both moan at that.

“You know what, I'm glad we did this today,” Eddie mumbles against your lips.

“Yeah?” You moan, arching your back in pleasure when he curls his fingers inside of you.

“Mhmm, that means I get to fuck you over and over and over for the whole weekend,” he smirks before he slams his lips against yours again, kissing you passionately and sensually while his fingers move and in out of you, creating a mess with his cum leaking out of you and your own wetness sticking to your thighs and his.

You both fill the room with filthy noises, needy and desperately you touch each other, grabbing and pulling at each others hair as the night goes on, continuing to mark each other up, to taste one another, to fuck like animals in heat, the movie long forgotten as his tongue laps at your pussy when he is kneeled on the ground with your legs dangling of his shoulders and your fingers pull at his hair roughly.

This night never ends, the pleasure continuing until the early morning hours, until you can no longer take it, until you both get too sensitive, until you’re both nothing but a panting, sweaty mess and even then, you still kiss and cling to one another.

The night was filled with desperation, with pent up emotions, with filthiness yet with love and adoration, and this night has changed you both forever, for good.

“So… What you’re telling me is–…” Steve begins, arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched as he stands before you and Eddie with a stern look on his face. You are both on his couch, looking up at him like scolded children. “You need to buy me a new… bed?”

You are blushing furiously, embarrassment written all over your face. You glare at Robin who is standing in the corner, sipping on her soda with an amused look on her face.

“Uh… yeah.”

You know how badly Eddie wants to laugh, he is smug, you can see it on his face but he stays quiet, for a second at least.

“And a new arm chair?” Steve mumbles, looking between you both.

“Yeah.” Eddie snorts to which you elbow him, shushing him.

“Don’t forget the flower vase,” Robin snickers.

Steve throws his hands up, “and a fucking flower vase, thanks Robin!”

You put your finger up and straighten your back, “actually, the flower vase fell by itself–”

“Because you were fucking on top of the table!” Steve retorts to which your boyfriend chuckles in satisfaction, not being embarrassed by anything in the slightest.

You turn to look at him, he only smirks at you and shrugs, holding your thigh tighter than before.

“I’d buy a new couch too–”

“Eddie!”

Robin moves closer and eyes you both, eyeing the matching marks on your necks.

“I hope you used protection, at least.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, looking at you both expectedly, your flustered face gives you away completely as you sink deeper into the couch, wanting nothing more than to bury your face in Eddie’s neck.

“Great, now I might be a fucking uncle.”

“Godfather,” Eddie corrects him, making you giggle.

“Go to hell,” Steve shakes his head, though he can’t hide the look on his face and how delighted he is to hear that he would be considered a godfather if it were to happen. And despite the clear distaste on his face after hearing what you did at his cabin, he can’t help but feel happy for you both.

Robin looks down with a smile on her face when Eddie wraps his arm around you and kisses your cheek softly and Steve’s eyes soften as well.

He sighs and rolls his eyes as he finally takes a seat, he reaches for his beer and takes a sip.

“I’m happy my plan worked but you both will go back, replace the furniture and clean everything up before I lose my shit and I kill you before my parents kill me.”

You nod at him with wide eyes, while Eddie furrows his eyebrows, “clean up? Oh, we did clean up and besides, we didn’t waste a single drop.”

“Eddie,” you whine as you bury your face in your hands while Robin groans in disgust.

Steve only sighs but his lips twitch slightly, curling into a smirk as he nods at Eddie.

“At least I know your children aren’t running around my cabin.”

You give Eddie a warning glance but he is already smirking at you, gripping your thigh harder, slipping under your skirt.

“They’re somewhere else.”

“Oh, gross!” Robin coughs and turns away with a frown on her face.

“Eddie!” You whine and slap his chest to which he pulls you closer and kisses your cheek, chuckling in amusement.

Steve shakes his head, sighing.

“I’m never inviting you both to that summer house ever again.”

#my writing ♡#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #stranger things angst #stranger things smut

5K notes · View notes