#going back in time and advising him to make better choices

[that-was-tedious]

I have had a minute to process. And I will say I was right about two things, one that Tommy was engaged to Abby once upon a time and that being the thing to break them up, and two that Buck would go straight to Eddie after he and Tommy broke up.

Now for the things I did not expect and the thoughts I had on them:

Josh saying that Buck lives in a post Glee world. Now, Josh DID have a point. But if the timeline of the show is the timeline of when it aired, Abby and Tommy would have been engaged from like 2015-2017. Glee ENDED in 2015. So. This doesn’t super work here? I get what he’s saying and it’s definitely true but the logic could have been better.

Eddie saying he’s straight. Yes, this can be thought of like the writers saying OKAY WE GET IT BUT NO. But I’m not so sure that’s what’s going on here? We will come back to this so put a pin in it for now.

Tommy breaking up with Buck BLINDSIDED me. It makes sense, in the long run. Tommy is afraid of Buck not loving him long term because he’s “the first” and the tears were wholly unexpected. But narratively, Buck has been the one that’s been broken up with. Left behind, so to say. Tommy is protecting himself (and that’s okay! I get it, weird choice but sure) but he’s hurting them both in the process. Put a pin in this as well.

Okay back to Eddie. The well/drainpipe didn’t go how anyone expected, but I think that’s for a reason. Has anyone else noticed we’re seeing Eddie’s Greatest Hits here? The couple fighting, the divorcing couple, the kid in the well, and next week the guy on hotshots stuck on the ladder like Buck after the lightning? The only things we skipped over were Shannon dying and the tsunami, and I really don’t think we’re going one for one here. But we’re bringing up a lot of his old traumas so maybe he’ll reflect on that???

Then we have the mustache shaving scene. Did ANYONE expect that? No? Good, me neither. I didn’t hate it? I liked the idea of an emotional thing, but I’ll take Ryan Guzman dancing to Old Time Rock and Roll in no pants. (Also going to answer the door like that? Slutty as hell, 10/10).

I did expect Buck to show up, because (remember the pin I told you to put in place? Here’s where the come up again), in the end it’s always going to Buck and Eddie choosing each other. Is it romantic? Idk maybe. I know I’d like it to be, but at the end of the day it doesn’t matter if it’s not. They’re each others ride or die, Eddie doesn’t question that Buck is there, he just takes the beer and shrugs because he has his back. They’re going to choose each other because it’s a safe space for both of them, someone who chose them. Eddie and Buck chose each other, neither of them have left like so many before, and they’re going to stick together and it always comes back to the two of them. Again, it might not end up romantic, but they’re still it for each other in a huge way. (I’m BEGGING for canon Buddie tho.)

I’m not convinced we’ve seen the last of Tommy, but then again maybe we have? Maybe he’s served a purpose in Buck’s narrative? Also to all of the bucktommy’s predicting it was Buck asking Tommy to move in….congratulations on being right and I’m sorry that’s how it went down. (Side note to anyone still reading that’s been in normal relationships, is six months too soon to move in? Especially because it doesn’t seem like they’ve said I love you’s yet? Please advise I’ve only been in unhinged relationships.)

Anyway all of this is a long winded way to say that I don’t think we can count Buddie out, as they’re each others safe space, but we’ll see as time goes on. I’ll settle for gay Eddie and a platonic shaped relationship between the two of them.

PS: Abby how are you still messing with Bucks life? STOP IT.

xoxo

Gossip Girl

[pipartuuli]

happy 56th birthday to this Coke-guzzling creature with perpetually overgrown roots

[cameronspecial]

Saw your post asking for Zach Maclaren request so here I am!

What about reader getting run over by the car instead of Zach and she looses her memory kinda like the movie but reversed? She thinks Zach is her bf cause she has a bf named Zach but he’s an asshole.

The Other Zach

Pairing: Zach MacLaren x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and Getting Hit By A Car

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.2K

Masterlist

Yet another argument with her boyfriend. Yet another time she is walking home upset. Even worse, it’s three in the afternoon so everyone on the street can watch her sad walk home. She feels like everyone around her is staring, judging her for staying with such a dick. As she walks across the parking lot with her head in the clouds, a soccer ball comes rolling toward her. Y/N’s eyes dart up to see Zach MacLaren walking over to her with a big smile, pointing down at the ball to ask her to send it over. She bends down to pick it up, but as she starts to straighten out, a sudden force from behind her sends her head smashing to the pavement. 

Zach watches the whole thing happen before his very eyes. He screams at his sister’s soccer team to stay there and runs to make sure the driver doesn’t try to keep reversing over Y/N. Everyone knew her. She works at the cafe on campus and is known to brighten everyone’s day. Once the driver knows he hit someone and is on the phone with the dispatcher, Zach goes to check on Y/N. She is out cold and this causes him to panic. He checks for a pulse. Relief floods him when he finds one and it is only a matter of her waking up. Her eyes flutter open and her vision is blurry. There is a face over her that she can’t make out. “My name is Zach,” she overhears the unidentifiable face. Her boyfriend. He must have gone after her to apologize. She starts to see more clearly and she wraps her arms around his neck. Her lips try to find him, but he pulls away. “Hey, take it easy. You got hit pretty hard in the noggin,” he advises, looking up at the sound of the ambulance.

——

The paramedics are about to take Y/N away, but she stops them from taking her. She looks at Zack, “Aren’t you going to come with me?.” He looks at her and his heart is pulling him to enter the vehicle, but he doesn’t feel it is right. He has no relation to her in any way. The paramedic counsels it might be better if he comes to help keep her calm and now, he feels he has no choice. “Of course, I just need to make sure an adult can stay with my soccer team. I’ll be right back,” he informs. He heads over to the field’s sidelines, talking to one of the waiting moms about what happened. He is reassured that she will make sure all the kids get home safely, so he heads back to the ambulance. 

After the doctor does his assessment, Zach and Y/N learn she has a concussion and probably amnesia. Zach could definitely a test to the last part since she seems to think he is her boyfriend. “Sweetie, what happened are you okay?” an older woman, who looks like Y/N, frets, rushing to her. Zach assumes this is Y/N’s mom and goes in to reassure her, “She has a mild concussion and amnesia.” The man with the mother raises his eyebrow. “And are you her doctor?” he questions. Zach shakes his head, “No, I’m Zach. I was with her when she got hit by the car.” The man nods and her mother’s eyes light up. “So you’re the boyfriend. It is so nice to meet you, I’m Kim and this is Gary. We are Y/N’s parents. She’s told us so much about you,” Kim introduces. Y/N goes on to complain, “Way to keep it cool, Mom.” “I’m sorry, Sweetie. But he is so cute and seems nice,” Kim apologizes. Zach feels strange about just letting the family believe he is actually Y/N’s boyfriend, but there isn’t exactly a good time to say that while in the hospital. The doctor returns to speak with her parent, so Zach excuses himself to call someone for advice. 

“Guess where I am,” he whispers into the phone. Zoey checks the time, “Coaching your sister’s soccer practice?” “No. I’m at the hospital,” he replies. She sits up from her lying position on the couch, “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine. It’s just that Y/N Y/L/N got hit by a car. Now, she and her whole family think I am her boyfriend.”

“Elle says she is dating a Zach. Zach Davis. He’s the captain of the hockey team. She just sent you his Insta.” 

While Zach scrolls through the other Zach’s profile, the doctor catches his attention. “Oh, and Mr. Boyfriend. Make sure she stays calm. We wouldn’t want anything stressing her out and making her conduction worse,” she instructs before walking off. Zach groans into the phone, “What am I supposed to do if I can’t stress her out?” “Okay, calm down. Just take her parents aside and let them break the news to her,” Zoey explains. Calm washes over his face, “Yes, that’s a great idea. You are one smart cookie, Zoey Miller.” They bid their goodbyes and he heads back to the Y/L/Ns. 

“Zach, you’re back. We were just talking about you. How would you like to come over for dinner tonight?” Kim asks, helping Y/N sit up so she can get ready to be discharged. It’s like the perfect opportunity falls into his lap.

——

He walks into the Y/L/N’s residence, helping Y/N onto the couch. “Your parents have a nice house,” he looks around the room. As soon as they are settled on the couch, a little boy pops up from behind the couch with a scream. A man a little bit older than Zach sets himself on the chair beside the couch. “Connor, don’t scare her. She has a concussion,” he chides the younger boy. Y/N sighs, “Zach, this is my little brother, Connor. And my older brother, uhh…” “Jared. His name is Jared,” Connor offers with a devious smile. Y/N nods, “Right, Jared. This is my older brother, Jared.” Zach sees Connor’s giggles and leans towards her, “I think he is messing with you, Baby.” “Oh. I think you are right,” she rubs her forehead, trying to remember her brother’s name. “Jack. His name is Jack.” Jack lets out a cheer and holds out his hand for Zach to take. 

Soon, dinner is served and Zach sits beside Y/N. As Connor is recounting his day, Y/N goes to whisper in his ear, “Thank you for keeping up with my strange family. I know you didn’t want to meet them, but it means a lot that you are here.” Zach feels bad at the words she says. Why wouldn’t her real boyfriend want to meet her family? They are so kind and funny. And Y/N is amazing. Even with a concussion, she is so bright and genuine. He has always had a little bit of a crush on her, ever since she gave him a coffee on the house when she saw he was having a hard day. She wrote his name with a happy face and little hearts, which made his day. Sometimes he finds himself going where she works just to see her smile. 

“No problem. I think your family is great,” he says, looking at her with a smile. She grins back at him and slides her fingers through his hand on his lap. “Well, if you think we are so great, why don’t you come skiing with us this weekend?” Gary suggests, overhearing the whispers between his daughter and her (not) boyfriend. Zach knows the words about to come out of his mouth shouldn’t be the ones that follow, but he really does like her family and he wants to get the opportunity to get to know her better. He knows it is wrong to take Y/N’s moment of confusion and to take it as a chance to fill his delusion. However, he really doesn’t see any harm in pretending for the weekend. 

——

“Are you sure you don’t want to hit the slopes? You don’t have to stay behind just for me,” Y/N double-checks, looking at him behind the couch. He sits on the back of the couch and lets himself flop back on the seat cushion. He nods, “Yep. I think it would be nice to hang out with you.” “Really? Well, I’m a very busy gal, I have to check my schedule,” she teases, taking out her phone to look at her calendar. “Oh, look at that the only thing I have planned is to have a concussion. I guess we can hang out.” He grins at her and sits up, scooting closer to her. She scoots over to sit beside him, putting herself under his arms, which makes him happy. “What should we do?” he inquires, looking down at her with a smile. She plays at putting thought into it and drags him to the game room. 

They head over to the air hockey table, but she notices Zach’s gaze toward the foosball table. “We can play foosball if you’d like. I just thought you would like air hockey more since you are on the team,” she explains, changing way toward the other table. Zach has to quickly cover his tracks, “Uh, yeah. I do like hockey, but I’m better at foosball than air hockey.” 

The game they play fills the room with laughter. Zach would yell at her for cheating by spinning her knob, while she would argue she is just using her tools to her advantage. After her last spin causes the tiny ball to sail through the hole for the goal, Zach runs around to her side and picks her up by the waist. “That is the last time you cheat!” he playfully reprimands. Her laughter stops and her hand flies to her head. She starts to move in a dizzy-like motion with her hand still stuck to her head. “Are you okay? Did I grab you too hard? What can I do?” he worries, removing his hands from her to look into her eyes. The tiny giggles she lets out make him feel like she is evil, “I’m just playing with you. I’m sorry. But you can make us something to eat. I can’t use any screens and I have absolutely no recipes memorized.” 

—— 

She watched him in amazement as he made the pizza. She found it incredibly hot to watch him toss the pizza dough in the air. He flicked a little flour at her and she ran away with a shriek. After getting the pizza out of the oven, he helps her up onto the counter and cuts the food. She takes the first bite and the moan she lets out absolutely kills Zach. He finds the pizza held out in front of his mouth, taking a bite at her encouragement. He really hopes the food hides his blush. “This tastes great! Where did you learn how to cook?” she praises, going in for another bite. His blush deepens, “I took lessons as a kid. It was really fun.” Her eyebrows raised. “Really? I always saw you as a more, I will only do hockey because hockey is my life kind of guy.” 

“Right, hockey. I love socc- I love so much hockey, but I don’t think hockey is what I’m going to do after graduation.” 

“Why not? If you like it so much, why don’t you go pro?”

“I do like it, but let’s be honest, I’m not good enough to get drafted. Truth is I don’t know what I’m going to do after graduation.”

“I haven’t seen you play hockey much or really understand how it is played, but I’m sure that isn’t true. But anyway, if you don’t think hockey is your thing, I think opening a pizza place is your path. This is great.”

Although she doesn’t know he is talking about soccer, he loves that she can see him passed the athlete and see a different part of him. Most people he knows are just interested in him because of his sport. “So what do you want to do after graduation?” he questions, picking up another slice for himself. Her eyes light up, “I’m not too sure yet. I know I’m a computer science major, but I really just chose it because it can be a useful fallback. I think maybe I want to travel around the world and take pictures.” He is touched that she is so open and honest with her answer. He likes that even though her future seems uncertain, she is still hopeful about it. “That sounds amazing. If you need a travelling partner, then I would gladly go with you. I’m sure you are an amazing photographer,” he encourages. Again, a confused look crosses her face, “I thought you hated going outside of the US. You said that nothing good happens outside of America.” Zach fears that his lies are going to start to unravel. The universe seems to come in for the assist because her family comes back at that moment. 

“Hey, you two. What did you do today?” Kim ponders, giving Y/N a kiss on her cheek. She smiles at her mom, “What didn’t we do?” Everyone over the age of eighteen widens their eyes and Zach helps clear things up. “All PG.” Completely missing the moment Connor pats his pockets. “I left my gloves at the lodge. We have to go back,” he panics. Zach jumps off the counter and pats his back, “Don’t worry, Con. Y/N and I can go with you to get it.” 

They get to the lodge and Connor runs inside to get his gloves. Zach turns to Y/N to find her making a snowman. “Need some help?” he proposes, walking over to her. She nods with a smile and they get to work on the snowman. She makes the middle part while he forms the bottom and once she is done, she picks it up to bring it to him. She trips over her feet and goes flying toward him. He catches her as he falls back. The snow from her ball smushes between them. They both sit up while laughing. Her hair falls over her face and he brushes it out of the way, leaving his warm hand on her cheek. The sun lightens her hair and this moment feels perfect. He has been avoiding kissing her to not take advantage of her, but it felt right in the moment. His lips find hers and fireworks spark between them. He scoots forward to deepen the kiss, bringing his other hand up to her cheek until Connor comes out and ruins the kiss. 

——

The weekend comes to an end too fast for Zach. The group recounts their highlights of the mini-vacation, laughing that Connor’s favourite part was playing Battletoads with Zach. Zach is helping Y/N with her bags when the engine of a car catches their attention. “Y/N Y/L/N, you haven’t been answering my texts,” a low voice growls. Y/N freezes at the voice and turns toward the man. Distress washes over her, “Who are you?” She takes a step closer to Zach and he wants to curl his arms around her to make her feel protected. “Who am I? I’m Zach Davis, your boyfriend,” he shouts with his eyebrow knitted. Now, her family looks confused. “You can’t be her boyfriend because he is her boyfriend,” Gary points out, looking toward Zach. Her real boyfriend lets out a low laugh, “Of course, that bitch is cheating on me. Why am I not surprised?” Anger flushes through Zach. 

“Hey! Don’t talk about her like that. She isn’t cheating on you. It’s my fault she isn’t answering your texts; I lied to her. She got hit by a car and lost her memory. My name is also Zach and she thought I was her boyfriend. I didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth,” Zach clarifies. “I’m sorry for lying, Y/N. I just wanted to get to know you and I’m glad I got to because you really are the most amazing person I have ever met. I’m going to go now before I make this more awkward.” Before Zach is out of hearing distance, he can hear Connor complaining that he is better than Y/N’s actual boyfriend. This causes a sad smile to form on Zach’s face.

——

It has been weeks since he last saw Y/N. He has been too embarrassed to go back to her parents’ house and only goes to class then back home. Zach is used to being the gossip of the campus because he is on the soccer team, but it feels a little different when people are talking about his deception. Zoey enters his dorm to find Zach watching a cooking show while eating ice cream. “You can’t just stay up here for the rest of your life,” she critiques, opening his curtains. He ignores her gaze, “Yes, I can. She said that I could open a pizza store.” His mind is blank except for thoughts of her. “I know she did. You’ve told me that a hundred times already,” Zoey gives him a tight-lipped smile.

“Why did I have to mess up so badly?”

“Because you were blinded by love. I can’t believe I just said that. But you like her. That’s why.”

“Right, and I had to lie to her, which broke her trust. Now, she is happily off with Zach Davis.” 

“You know they broke up, right? Like literally right after the ski trip.” 

“Really? Why?”

“That’s only a question that she can answer.”

——

Zach has been thinking about it all day and has decided to go see Y/N. Her bright smile is the first thing he sees when he enters the coffee shop. It makes his heart leap when it doesn’t drop at the sight of him. Instead, it softens, somehow getting warmer. “Hi,” he awkwardly greets, hand shooting up to the back of his neck. She breaths out, “Hey, I’ve been looking for you.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, really. You disappeared on me the other day.” 

“Yeah, I didn’t think you would want to see me after you found out the truth.”

She whispers something to her co-worker and rounds the counter, taking off her apron on the way. She stands in front of him and takes his hand in hers. “I was a little upset at first, but then I realized that I couldn’t be mad at you. Do you want to know why?” she confesses. He nods his head like a child in anticipation. “Cause you are the Zach I want to be with. You helped me realize how much of an asshole Davis was to me. You treated me with so much love and made me feel safe.” Zach is ecstatic at her words and rushes forward to give her the kiss they have both been waiting for. It is soft but passionate, showing the need they both felt for each other. His arms round her body, engulfing her in the safety of his embrace. Zach Maclaren can’t believe he has found love with the girl he has always wanted.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

I was thinking about an alternate ending to Furiosa that I would have found more narratively satisfying, that dealt with the two third acts problem without radically altering other parts of the movie.

Imagine if you will:

The climactic action sequence is the one at the Bullet Farm and maybe a bit of the chase after. Same setup. Furiosa has the best chance she's ever had to get home, but she can't make herself leave Jack. Goes back to fight for him. He still dies--not in the same horrible drawn-out way, but Dementus kills him. Furiosa gets caught in a wreck or something with her arm pinned. Echoes of Max leaving the guy handcuffed to the burning car in Mad Max 1. He can live if he chops his arm off. And chop she does. Not in time to save Jack, but in time to kill Dementus. That's not long and drawn-out either but he is very clearly dead by her one remaining hand.

Maybe that's when the backup from the Citadel that they called for when everything went to shit arrives. Furiosa gets brought back to the Citadel, probably without much choice at that point because she's barely conscious due to rapid unplanned disassembly of arm. She is welcomed by Joe as a hero for slaying his enemy. Promoted to Imperator and told she will lead the War Rig crew when the rig is rebuilt new and better than ever. She was Jack's second-in-command after all.

Everyone is treating it like a victory for her but we feel it as a defeat, because she still lost the one person she cared about, and in the aftermath of that it seems like she has given up on trying to get home. Accepted that a high-ranking position in Joe's armada is the best she's gonna get. Maybe we even see her planting the peach tree at the Citadel as a sign that she's accepted she is never going home.

(We know she'll try again in Fury Road, but it doesn't look like she knows that.)

In this version of events, I think Joe would gift her the prosthetic arm. You are part of my war machine now. She has proven herself valuable enough to be taken care of, like the History Man advised her. Valuable enough to be repaired instead of discarded.

I am chewing on the parallels. At the beginning of the movie she has a chance to escape, but she can't leave her mom. She goes back and watches her mom die and gets trapped by Dementus. At the end she has another chance but she can't leave Jack. She goes back and watches Jack die and gets trapped by Joe. It's the kind of dark ending that works for a prequel when we know she is going to have her moment of victory in Fury Road.

I'm imagining the image of her being brought back to the Citadel in hollow triumph after killing Dementus. She's half-dead, one-armed, riding on the front of a car like the end of Fury Road but she's being kind of propped up like a trophy. Versus the end of Fury Road and its moment of real triumph--a return she never intended but this time to a place that maybe can be a real home for her at last.

[etherealily]

🇭​​🇦​​🇷​​🇩​ ​🇨​​🇦​​🇳​​🇩​​🇾​ ~ ​🇫​​🇪​​🇱​​🇮​​🇽​ ​🇨​​🇦​​🇹​​🇹​​🇴​​🇳​

Felix Catton + fem! reader. SFW, but discretion advised, drugs, alcohol. Dark.

Part 2 : Sour Candy

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : You've known him way too long.

════════════════════ ⋆🪽⋆ ════════════════════

JUNIOR YEAR, 2004

There was nothing louder than a house full of drunk, horny and high high school kids after the last day before summer break.

"You should take off that coat, ya know? It's a party, and the thermostat's on."

"I can't."

He raised a brow, scoffing as he took a shot. "Why not? You're in your pajamas?"

"Yeah." Felix had dragged you out of your home at three a.m for this. Three. In. The. Morning.

"What? Do they have like, cute little bunnies on them, or sm'n?"

Oh, he'd like that, wouldn't he?

"They're these... really tiny shorts and a tank top, and I-"

"Jesus, you fucking prude!", he groaned, frustrated. "You're worried about being too revealing? It's a fucking high school party - it's kinda the dress code!"

Well, okay, asshole. "Oh, yeah? Then why are you fully-"

He didn't even let you finish, as he took off his shirt and threw it on the ground. "There. Now take off your coat, you fucking square."

You took it off, taking the shot he pressed up to your lips, too. "Fuck." It shot through you like it had a vendetta.

"Right?", he snickered, nodding at you to take another. "Fucking crazy shit, man."

"BODY SHOTS!" It was like they were all trying to prove your point about the world's loudest thing being horny kids hopped up on drugs by making your eardrums bleed.

Felix swivelled his head over to you, an excited, mischeivous glint in his eye.

"No. No, Felix, no, I-"

"Don't be a fucking hard-arse, Y/N. You'd be labelled a loser."

"Better to be a loser than take part in this..."

"If you say debauchery, I'm going to kick you out."

You were, but not anymore.

"Look, the way I see it, you've got two choices. One, you let me do body shots off you. Two, I whisk you away right now and drop you back home..."

Wait, that seemed like a solid plan-

"...but not your bedroom. Your front doorstep, wherever it is. I introduce myself to your parents. Offer to sell them drugs. How's that sound?"

"You're such a cunt."

"Wow, creative. C'mon, up you get.", he instructed, folding his arms after pointing to the kitchen island.

"No."

"Okay, fine, you wanna do shots off me?"

That'd be far less embarrassing.

"Sure."

He shook his head, amused, as he hoisted himself onto the table, in the centre of the horde of cheering jocks and preps. You'd be lying if you said you weren't excited for the maturity that came with college.

"NO! No, just Y/N!", he ordered, shooing everyone else away.

Shut the fuck up. But it was too late. Everyone saw you.

You watched him grab the lime that someone brought to his mouth with his teeth, crane his neck slightly so that they could dab some sugar there, and then you watched the whole party - at least, those inside the house and not in the backyard with the kegs or snorting lines - turn eagerly to you.

"Go on, Y/N, don't be shy."

He huffed as you hesitated. "How would your dad feel if I sold him meth?", he asked, removing the lime and raising a brow at you.

Fuck. You leaned over, licking the sugar crystals off his neck, the mouth-watering taste immediately being soured as you sucked up and licked the trail of tequila someone had poured into his navel, and finally, sucked the lime from his lips, shuddering in the tang.

Cheers.

"Good girl, love, that was perfect, for a first timer."

As always, he'd forgotten about every time he'd forced you to do the same thing. He'd forgotten that he wasn't forgiven.

You couldn't bloody wait till graduation. You'd cut off every single person in this entire pathetic excuse for a school.

Especially Felix Catton.

THIRTEEN MONTHS LATER

You'd always thought college was a given. That was the order it went in, right? High school, Uni, job, marriage, kids, retirement, death. Simple, skeletal, and easy to follow.

Now, the mistake you'd made was assuming that each stage came with an upgraded level of maturity, as well.

You know? How after marriage, you're more rational about love than when you're a horny junior?

Well, evidently, college had missed the memo about maturity.

This was bloody Oxford. OX-BLOODY-FORD. Supposed to be refined, fancy, intellectual.

There was no reason for you to be begrudgingly sat on a mangy old couch whose stains you didn't really want to examine too closely, watching strobe lights flicker here and there, making it look like you were about to be given a fucking lap dance, with how cheap it was.

Not to mention the amount of times you had to push the coked-out bimbo to the right of you off your shoulder and the bricked-up asshole to the left of you, off... well, yourself.

All in all, this was high school all over again.

You had to be here, you reasoned, mentally scratching off your no reason thoughts from earlier. It was the end-of-first-week party, of course. I mean, the upperclassmen threw these things every year for all the newcomers, kind of like a welcoming-slash-bullying ceremony, and to not go was social suicide. To go was basically suicide.

Essentially, you were fucked.

It was sort of pathetic, really, the way you were there, desperately wanting to get up, without actually doing it, because where would you go? What would you do? Dance? That would contribute to the bullying part of this welcoming-slash-bullying ceremony. Stand still in the corner? You'd either end up drugged somehow or outcast.

At least here, people could see you. People might probably remember you, your lack of participation blurring out in their minds, but your presence vaguely familiar. And that's all that was needed, really.

'Oh, yeah, she was there at the party. Yeah, think she and the bird near her were doing lines. Yeah, she was getting it on with the guy next to her.'

As a slut or otherwise, you needed to be perceived to survive college, that was for sure.

The girl right next to you groaned against your shoulder. "You're so... soft. Thanks for putting up with me."

"I showed up way too late.", you muttered, looking around at the scanty crowd.

"Late? No, love, you're early! The main upperclassmen aren't even here, yet.", she explained, shooting up with an unecessary jolt of interest in your lack of knowledge.

"Main?"

"No one throws a party like The Upperclassmen. This isn't even anything, baby."

"There's another one, then, after this?"

"Yeah, this is the main party, and then, maybe, if they feel so inclined, an after-party. But that's invitation-only, so only if they really want to toy with you.", she told you, slowly, and diligently, just in case the cocaine in her veins had evaporated from her blood and you'd inhaled it by accident.

"I'm sor- I'm sorry, toy with me?"

This was Ox-Bloody-Ford! You were supposed to be reading Faust, commenting on Dostoevsky, or cussing out Freud. Something intellectual. Not waiting for a fucking gang of seniors who called themselves, what, the bloody Upperclassmen (like it was cool?) to decide whether you'd be their personal jester or the jest itself.

"They just want to scope out the freshmen, see if there's any worth provoking."

Pursuing, she meant.

"Where is this, uh, after-party?"

"Probably at, like, one of the Upperclassmen's homes? I dunno. Usually, they rent out some club, but this time, I think one of the richer ones rented out, like, an entire villa, so.", she informed you, shrugging.

She shook her head at the groan that followed, patting your cheek as she dragged you over closer to her, away from the creep next to you, pulling out a bottle of tequila.

"Look, there's a reason they've made everyone come to this cheap club.", she said, pouring it out into a glass, offering it to you.

You sighed, nodding as you downed a shot.

"It's supposed to be unenjoyable. It's supposed to make you want to vomit. Seriously, I faced the same thing when I was a freshman, too. Just be yourself, make the most of the situation, and you're cool. Look too chickenshit or disgusted, and you're not. Be neutral, and you're safe, but not respected. Safe is fine."

"I wasn't aware college had cliques, too."

"Life has cliques. Maturity is a very subjective word."

Cocaine had a philosophical advantage, too, apparently.

That was fair. Seven year old you would have considered this - being at a party, as a very mature thing to do, indeed.

She clinked her glass against yours, before downing her shot in one smooth go. "Trust me, sweetheart, get as drunk as you can right now."

You mirrored her, downing your own shot as the music suddenly got louder, cheers erupting from the doorway.

And god fucking damn you if you didn't disregard her entire speech about not looking disgusted, because right there, right BLOODY there was Felix Catton, dancing in like this entire night was a celebration for his sheer existence.

Fuck.

------

Please be a trick of the light, please be a trick of the-

You watched as he twirled girls around, completely off-beat, but completely smoothly, too, at the same time.

Infuriating. Oh, it was HIM, alright. How did he even get into Oxford?! And, more importantly, how was it you had no clue?

Well, that wasn't entirely fair. He was good at his studies, more or less. But you'll be damned if you sat there and admitted it.

"Is that...?"

"Yeah, he's one of The Upperclassmen. Felix Catton.", she nodded, watching with hungry eyes. "Fucking smash, smash, smash."

'Oh, yeah, you get close to him, he will 'smash, smash, smash' you. To bits.' , you grumbled internally.

"Last year, when he was a freshman, the upperclassmen loved him so much, he actually planned the welcoming party for his own batch. Crazy, right?"

"Nah, not crazy."

Made sense. He always got the free passes, the girls, the good drugs, dammit, and... well, everything. The only thing he never got was you, and your forgiveness for being a total bloody cunt unless it benefitted him, but as you watched his lying little lips wrap around a cigarette and then immediately around a girl's tongue, you realised he truly didn't give a shit.

"So you can tell, can you? That he's the most loved?"

You hid a scoff. "Oh, yeah. Clear as day."

"Right?", she gushed, biting her lip momentarily before taking another shot. "He's just got one of those faces."

Yeah, a punchable one.

"I'll tell you, girl. You manage to get in close with him, you're set for life. He's loaded, too, I heard.'

You didn't really think this was an appropriate time to mention that both of you had gone to the same rich-people private school.

"Oh?"

She nodded, gesturing at you to take your shot. "I'm telling you."

"Yeah, well, I don't need an invite to the after-party. I just don't want to find out what happens when They hate me."

She shook her head again, as if to say that wouldn't happen. "Now, shoo, my little protégé. Mingle."

You rolled your eyes, hiding a laugh as you did as instructed, obediently. She was older, of course, and wiser, and she was more used to this intricate, almost unnavigable society called Uni, so, hey. You wouldn't argue.

But she was also coked-out, a woman of very loose morals and hence sanity and sobriety.

Should you argue?

════════════════════ ⋆🪽⋆ ════════════════════

Ending up chatting and doing shots with one guy who seemed relatively non-rapey, your night didn't seem to be going too terribly - a feat you were astonished you'd actually managed.

Finally, a party that wasn't a total bust.

Your hand was under your chin as you listened to him. Normal and casual? Check.

A lopsided grin was on his face. He was having fun, too? Check.

And the lights crackled and shone above both of you. Obscure thing obliged to happen because it was a party and it was basically a law? Check.

His eyes moving behind you, confused and then almost startled? Uh... not in the checklist.

You didn't even have time to be shocked.

"Oh, Jesus FUCK!", shrieked Felix, grinning ear to ear and laughing as if this was all he'd ever wanted in life, his eyes widening as he lunged at you from behind, picking you up and twirling you around - essentially as if you weighed nothing. Harsh on your gym routines, actually. "I thought I saw you! Assumed it was a trick of the light!"

You fought a sigh.

Here's the thing about Felix.

Felix-hugs were the most bittersweet experience on the planet.

They were lovely, warm, and melting.

They were also embarrassingly intimate, mildly condescending, and had a knack for making you feel like you owed him something afterwards.

He continued squeezing, rocking you slightly, before he let go, the look of genuine joy in his eyes slightly making you second-guess whether he really was worth holding a grudge against.

His eyes moved to the guy next to you, his smile still not fading and his arm still around your shoulder. "Hey, who're you?", he asked, clapping a hand on his back.

"Daniel." A small nod. A shit-it's-Felix-get-me-out-of-here-nod.

"Right on, Danny, mate!", he chuckled, holding out his hand. "Give it here!"

Daniel made the mistake of shaking his hand, eliciting a palpably judgemental scoff from Felix. "Aren't we well-mannered?", he muttered. "You a fresher, Dan?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Major?"

"Literature."

"Figured.", he said simply, his smile never once looking anything but welcoming. But it was clear Danny had just committed social suicide. "Tell me, what is it you even learn? Shakespeare?"

"Yeah, we have, actually."

"Romeo and Juliet.", he mused, shaking his head as he looked down at Danny. "Not star-crossed lovers, just losers."

That was evidently a dig at him.

"I think I gotta go , actually.", said Daniel, looking down at his watch. "Work."

"Don't be a stranger, Dan-zo!", he called out behind him, before turning back to you, at his arm. "He's definitely going to keep getting stranger.", he remarked, clutching you closer to his side once more. "Who even handshakes anymore?"

"Loads of people."

"Not you, right, love? Gosh, don't tell me you sucked a hand-shaker's cock. He's not shag-material."

You grimaced. Did he always have to be so crude?

"Why are you flinching like we're in third grade? What, are you, like some, virgin prude or sm'n?", he scoffed, pearly teeth attempting to hide behind the soft glow of his cigarette.

"I'm not a bloody virgin!"

This had always been one of the subjects of Felix's obsessions back in high school - he preferred his girls experienced.

He couldn't be bothered to have to teach and accomodate and- ugh. Too much work.

And you'd always sort of... accepted it. I mean, he was Felix.

So now, when he lazily suggested you were a virgin - perfectly fine for a 19 year old by the way - you panicked. Played into his preferences.

He tousled his hair, the pink and green of the lights in the club choosing the beads of sweat on his bare torso to illuminate, of all things. Then, he turned to look at you, drink in hand, invisible steam coming out of your ears.

His mouth slowly opened as he released a puff of smoke on your face, and he gaped at you, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned. "You are a virgin!", he exclaimed, gasping as he did so. "Oh, my god, with a body like that, you're still a bloody virgin?"

"No, no, yell it louder, yeah? Don't think they heard you all the way down in Australia!"

He grinned, scrunching up his nose as he tapped yours. "Come off it, no one heard that. You're eighteen, you know? It's, like, illegal to not have had sex."

"That's not how it work- you're just taking the mick outta me, aren't you?"

"Slightly.", he teased, shrugging as he kissed your cheek, as if that would wipe the frown off your face. "Oh, cheer up, we'll find you someone to shag by the end of the night! And not a hand-shaking twat. Trust."

"I don't want somebody to shag!"

He snorted, shaking his head. "Spoken like a true virgin."

"Alright, shut up, okay? I'm perfectly fine as I am."

"Where'd you run off to, anyway?", he inquired leaning against the bar stool as he took a long drag of his cigarette. "After my senior year. You didn't really contact me."

Take a wild guess why, you absolute arse.

"You didn't contact me."

"'Cause I figured we were family friends. That we would've met at some party. Either way, you could've at least emailed me, yeah? A fucking letter, maybe?"

He was not upset, not at all. He was simply bored, so he thought he'd provoke you a bit. What had Coke-Girl said? Oh, yes, toy with you.

"I didn't contact anyone after they graduated.", you muttered, downing your drink with electrifying determination. "You're not special."

He pouted distractedly as he exhaled some more smoke, his eyes fixed on one spot on the floor. "Hey, you know what we should do?"

Kill one another?

"What?"

"Have a proper reunion, like proper-proper. There's an after-party at this villa I rented out, in like, a couple hours. You should come."

It's an order. Not a request, not an invitation. Not like you'd give him the satisfaction of blind compliance, though. That had always been your thing, you and him, he'd ask you to do something, you'd say no, he'd ask again and again until you said okay to shut him up.

From outside, it'd be somewhat endearing - comical, even - to observe. But you weren't on the outside. You were smack-dab in the middle of this annoying exchange.

"It's already twelve."

"Yeah, I know it's a bit early for a party, but-", he huffed, scratching at his forehead with the hand that still held the cigarette.

"But c'mon. Our reunion is a... special event, wouldn't you agree? Summat to be celebrated, yes?"

His shoulder nudged yours and suddenly you were in high school again, Felix trying his best to convince you that injecting unknown stuff into your bloodstream would be the 'maddest experience of your life'.

"Come on, Y/N, don't be a fucking prude.", he mumbled next to your ear, raising a brow devilishly.

That was a silent warning. Essentially, he'd tell everyone you were a virgin if you didn't humour him. "It'll be just like old times. You'll do body shots off me. Maybe now that you're more mature, you'll let me do them off you?"

"Look, Felix, thanks for offering, but I'm not coming to-"

He shushed you, shaking his head as he took out an opaque little container from his pocket and then shook it, watching the pills plop one-by-one onto his palm. "What do they do? No fucking clue.", he rhymed under his breath, sing-songily, as he glanced up at you, expectantly.

"Oh, no, no, I can't-"

"Pussy."

"That doesn't work on me anymore, Catton."

His cheeky grin suddenly gave way to a scowl. "Why have you changed so much? What happened?"

What the hell was he on about?

"We used to be like best friends! Tom and Jerry!"

"Tom tries to kill Jerry."

"No! No, no, no! They're best mates! Tom just does that to like, make sure his owners don't find another cat who actually wants to kill Jerry!"

He wasn't even high yet, he was talking like this? You'd made a good call on the pills.

"Okay, so assuming I'm Jerry in this... analogy, you've only been a cunt to me because you're afraid someone else is going to actually be a cunt and take your place?"

He popped one of the pills into his mouth, sucking at it so tantalizingly you couldn't help but envy it, for a moment.

That thought was another reason you were glad telepathy wasn't real.

"You make it sound so crazy."

"Maybe 'cause it - What is that, like a... hard candy or summat?", you huffed, watching him suck torturously on the thing.

He nodded. "Yeah. Try one."

"So they were never real?", you asked, accepting a dark purple one you assumed to be grape flavoured.

He shook his head. "Me and the mates sometimes do that. Distribute them. See who acts high. Loads of fun."

Your assumption was proved right. It was grape. "You're a sadist, y'know?"

"And you haven't answered my question, y'know? What happened to you? To us? We were like... this tight!", he whined, crossing both his middle fingers over both his indexes.

"Felix, I don't know if you know this, but I hated you in high school."

"WHAT?", he scoffed, evidently very offended. "No, you didn't!"

"O'course I did. We'd known each other since we were five, then you suddenly hate me all of a sudden in middle school, then the last year of high school, I'm suddenly your puppet you can bring along when you're bored and lonely and wanting to look charitable?"

"That's not even remotely true, alright? I'm a very kind person."

You sighed. "Sure."

"I don't like being called a bad person, Y/N.", he declared, frowning. "Take it back."

"No."

"TAKE. IT. BACK."

"NO. I. WON'T."

His hand slammed melodramatically down on the bar stool, repeating the words as screams now, submerged under the loud waves of music. You still refused to take back the fact that Felix was not the super kind, perfect, individual that everyone thought he was, and that seemed to irk him.

Because who was he if not the nice one? The one whose attention was a blessing?

"You enjoyed it, though, like a little popular-adjacent... fame-sucker! You'd never have been anywhere without me!"

You gasped in sardonic offense. "Oh, no, what ever would I have done without you? Gotten a good sleep schedule?"

He rolled his eyes. "Uncool." He pointed his cigarette at you.

"You're uncool, Y/N.", he taunted as he backed away, shaking his head and tutting.

As Coke-Girl had said, you'd just been marked for the hermit life by an Upperclassman. Brilliant. Fucking great. You rolled your eyes, flipping his ungrateful arse the bird.

After the party, about two hours later, however, he caught up with you, grumbling as he shoved you into his car and broke his rule of only shagging non-virgins, and you broke your rule of only shagging non-Felix-Cattons.

════════════════════ ⋆🪽⋆ ════════════════════

FIVE MONTHS LATER

Shame was not something Felix really felt much.

Hooking up with a random girl in a club bathroom and moaning someone else's name? Awkward, yes, but not really shame-inducing.

To each their own. A bathroom hookup was degrading enough, anyway.

Then he came out of the bathroom. Shame still eluded him.

But barely a half hour later, he was on his knees at the dorm of the person whose name he'd moaned, his face pressed into your stomach, the stain of his tears growing increasingly on your shirt , and shame introduced itself to him by slapping his face ten times, five on each cheek.

Felix Catton had never needed you. He had never really needed anything.

You, in turn, had never needed him.

Your disdain for him was evident to everyone in the entire university - which you didn't mind. So what if he'd essentially marked you for the hermit life? You were actually doing fine. You still got to go to parties, you still had a good social life, it was lovely.

[Point : You.]

But here's the thing about Felix Catton.

He didn't seem to really know how being mad was supposed to work. Evidently, no one had ever not wanted to be around him before.

And that is where the problem lay.

Because no matter how many times you yelled at him, no matter how many times he yelled back, he'd be at your door just like tonight, high and on his knees, undoing your belt buckle while muttering an impressive mix of profanities and apologies.

"God, love, just fuck me blind already."

"Did you miss me, too?"

"You can't keep fucking doing this to me, I'm going insane."

A few gems from the last three times he'd come crawling back.

And he was Felix. What would you do? Push him away? Laughable.

He knew you wouldn't. [Point : Felix.]

════════════════════ ⋆🪽⋆ ════════════════════

This time, however, something was off. This time, it felt... different.

You were so fucking patient this time that he almost insulted you just to get a reaction. Why weren't you kicking him out? Why were you also not letting him in? Why did you let him stay like that, waiting for him to say something?

"Y/N, say something.", he mumbled against your torso, his eyes still wet and stinging.

"Like what?"

Was that fatigue he sensed in your tone? You sounded utterly spent.

"Anything."

"We can't- I can't keep doing this."

"What?"

"This… this vicious cycle of you come, we fuck, we're cool for, maybe, two weeks - if we're lucky - and then you throw a fit at me like I'm the one who keeps crawling back and then call me a cunt! And then every time you're on a bender-"

You stopped to take a breath, clenching your jaw.

He'd expected you to push him away, but the most you did was stop stroking his hair. That was a shame. He'd quite liked that.

He didn't like the fact that you allowed him to hold onto you so tenderly while you recounted all the non-tender things he did. It was cruel and it was smart and it was working.

"This is our, what, fifth time here?"

"You said it yourself, we're cool for two weeks. We should just… elongate that."

"Oh, yes, sure, great. Why did we never try that before?"

"Y/N, please. Please."

You should be pushing him away.

You should be kicking him out the door.

"Felix, you can't just keep-"

"I won't. This'll be the last time."

"And how many times have you said that?"

"I'm so sorry, love, I don't know what got- I didn't mean for it to- I'm sorry."

"No, you're not, you're just high"

He shook his head, groaning as he kissed up from your navel to your chest, craning his neck as far as possible, before he slowly stood. "You're wrong."

"No, Felix, I'm not."

What set his teeth on edge was that you didn't stop him making a fool of himself at any moment, almost like you enjoyed watching his desperation.

"Yes, you are.", he whined, as his lips began to give way to his tongue, reintroducing it to your throat. "You know you are."

And then, finally, finally, you rolled your eyes and grabbed his hair tightly - ouch - to push him away from your neck. Finally, a fucking reaction. "Felix."

"Y/N."

"We agreed we'd just ignore each other during Uni, and yet, here you are, acting like I owe you something."

He groaned, your logic way too much for his absolutely plastered mind. "We had a deal. When you need it, come to me. When I need it, I come to you. Mutual disdain be damned."

"Felix, that's not the-" That was the furthest thing from the fucking deal.

"I was your first, and I'm also your best! So don't be bloody ungrateful, alright, baby? So, stop acting like you hate sex."

"This isn't about sex."

"Have we been in the same relationship?", he scoffed.

Whoops. That was the wrong word. "I just mean- we're really good at what we do, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know, I was there.", you sniped. "But I stand by what I said. This isn't about sex. This is about your borderline unhealthy obsession with me."

Okay, he came here to shag the daylights out of you, not be read through and analyzed like literature. That was fucking David- wait, Daniel? Whatever- his job. Not yours.

"'M not obsessed. Just addicted."

He always knew it was about the right words with you.

He leaned down over you, forehead nuzzled against yours, and his lips magnetically drawn to yours. "Please, Y/N."

"Felix…"

"Please. You're mine, right? You can do this for me."

Shit. That would set you off again if he didn't do something about it.

"No matter what happens between us, we've got each other's backs. You're mine, I'm yours." That should pacify you.

He peppered multiple kisses on your lips, murmuring sweet nothings to you between them. He didn't want to brag, but he was very good at being persuasive.

"Felix."

"Shh."

"Felix, I can't, I'm with someone else!" Oof. Minor setback. But it's alright. This wasn't the first time you'd forced yourself to date someone else to get over him.

"Really?"

"Yes. So you should leave."

"Leave? And not fight for you? The only woman who…", he whispered once more, bringing your hands to his chest, "…gets me?" His lips were barely inches away from your eyes, the same ones he searched so deeply through at the moment.

"Gets you or gets you off?", you scoffed.

What, did you have all his possible moves written down somewhere?

"Why can't it be both?"

"Felix, leave."

"I've got with you when I was with someone else, why can't you?"

"That's different."

"How?"

"Because you're you! You're never with someone else! It's just that you hook up with one person more often than the rest of the population!"

Well, yeah, wasn't that commitment?

"So? I was still with someone, but I cared about you enough to take care of you."

That was a lie.

He was the one who'd shown up at your door, not caring whether he was 'cheating' or not.

But he knew that you'd blocked out most of that traumatic night from your memory, what with the trip to the ER and all, so you wouldn't refute him.

"I'm not- you're grasping at straws."

"And you're prolonging the inevitable." God, it was such a hassle not to slur those words with how shitfaced he was. "You'll always come back to me." He continued kissing you, all the while pushing you back into your dorm and closing the door behind him. Good.

"Felix-"

"Shh, you know that you're not pulling away because you've missed me. Just as much as I've missed you."

This seemed as good a time as any to unbutton your shirt. Too bad you decided tonight was the night to be a little bitch and push him away.

"Felix, seriously, stop it, mate.", you huffed, trying to swat his hands away as they curved around your hips through your shirt. "Seriously."

"I'm not your mate.", he whispered against your lips, hoping the words started on his tongue and ended on yours, his tone far too sweet for its own good. "Don't call me that."

His fingers grazed over your bra and it felt so right he had to stop and mentally consider why in the hell he'd ever even said he hated you.

"Felix, stop."

And the look in his eyes helped you finally realize what was off, this time.

He was not high. He was DRUNK.

But it was too late. The male ego is a fragile thing, as you'd learnt.

"Fine. I'll leave. Just know I told Mum about you. She says congrats on losing the V-Card."

"You told her that?" Fuck Felix Catton.

"Yeah. Oh, oh, plus, she wants you to come to Saltburn for Christmas. We can have our proper-proper reunion there, she says. So, you're coming."

"Like hell I will."

"C'mon, you and my Mum were always close, yeah?", he cooed, tucking a piece of your hair in between two of his fingers. "Just 'cause you quote-unquote hated me in school, doesn't make that untrue."

His hand was back on your bra. "Come to Saltburn.", he murmured against your neck. "I'll make it worth your while."

"You're going to embarrass me in front of your family.", you whispered, pushing his fingers away from the clasp, eliciting a sarcastic pout from him.

"You're going to embarrass yourself. And you and I both know you won't reject the invitation."

"You're such a cunt."

"Wow, creative.", he scoffed. Déjà vu. "See you there."

FUCK.

[almostwisegalaxy]

My insecure boy

Cha hyun su x reader

The night grenn home was demolished by the army and hyun su lost his memory, you chose to flee, abandoning your friends and HIM. It wasn't your choice. He advised you to leave because he believed that if you stayed with the others you'd be killed. So he packed you a bag, all the food he could find and some weapons.

"I don't know who you are anymore, but I feel you're dear to me. I promise I'll find you later, but right now you've got to get away from here.

"But what about the others? I can't leave them like this, they're waiting for us."

"If we all stay together, do you really think we'll survive? We're running out of time. Leave before the building is demolished"

So you ran away at his request, really hoping to find him later.

D+345 after monsterserification

Pov de hyun su

after yi-kyeong transformed

Eun-yoo followed her friend's monster. He had told her he was there to find the person for whom hyun su refused to succumb to monsterserification.

"If hyun su knew where she was all the time, why didn't he go and meet her sooner?"

"She's fragile right now. He thinks that by protecting her from afar, she'll be safer and more at peace".

They continued forward, chatting. Arriving in a valley far from "the city", Eun-yoo wanted to know more about this mysterious person, and frankly, the monster was getting fed up.

He raised his head to eunyoo's level and spoke to her about the spell that had created such tension when they were both in the building.

"Why are you taking so long to find out who this person is? Does knowing that he cherishes and protects this girl more than you does make your miserable human blood boil inside you? "

"No, I don't know what you're talking about." she said defensively.

"Oh, so I'm wrong. Am I also wrong that you wanted to cuddle him from the moment you saw him, that if he'd really been talking so boldly to you in that room, you'd have jumped on him? "

An argument broke out between the two. But the instant his gaze fell on her, hyun su's eyes changed from blue to their original color. It only took one look to regain possession of her body.

"She's... She gave birth..."

He knew she was carrying their children, but not that she'd given birth yet.

At that moment he hadn't listened to eun-yoo for a while. With his heart pounding, he ran to her and embraced her. But when she met the sound of his footsteps on the grass, he stopped dead in his tracks. All kinds of ideas came to mind

Will she be angry with me for leaving her all this time?

What if she doesn't want me anymore?

What if she rejected me?

What if she didn't want me around the baby? OUR child

I listened to her call me so many times, but I didn't come.

It was her voice that snapped me out of my reverie

"Hyun su? Is that you? "

Without missing a beat, he hugged her warmly, and she hugged him back. His doubts evolved.

"I'm sorry I didn't come earlier. I don't have any. I left you alone for so long to fend for yourself, I thought it was for the best but-"

"Chute, it's okay. Better late than never, right? "

They exchange a soft, passionate, loving kiss. Only the baby's chirping on his beloved's breast could stop them. Together they enter the little hut that serves as y/n's roof. The hut soon becomes their home

Yes, eun-yoo was forgotten.

[merakiui]

we know and love our breeding obsessed tweels .. but there’s an obvious candidate whom I haven’t seen given much attention.. and it’s our favourite apple <3

back in harveston, it’s been mentioned how there isn’t much youngins around .. apart from epel and his cousin .. but in terms of ppl his age??? 0 … so it’d be easy for his family to talk him into stuffing you full and getting you pregnant when you come visit one day… you don’t know that epel secretly introduced you to his family as his wife .. and that the analytical eyes they give you and your body was bcs they wanted to see just how many kids you could handle birthing naturally at a time… truly terrifying how they put this much thought into the time you need to rest before being full with his baby again .. bcs they don’t do hospitals but instead the women in the family use their knowledge (midwivery) to advise you </3

aa just the thought of epel and his family peer pressuring you into giving them kids and continuing the family line has you feeling all guilty </3 like it doesn’t matter what u want bcs you’d be doing it for the betterment of the village! how they convince u that eventually, when u become a mother, you’d find happiness that comes w it .. (silly reader … your choice and wants never even mattered in the first place! bcs if you showed resistance they’d just drug u and put u to sleep w epel’s unique magic and get u pregnant anyways </3)

truullyyy terrifying! beware of dear grandma’s sad puppy dog eyes knowing u refuse to give her great-grandkids! (lies … she knows what she’d doing </3)

also! can I be epel felmier anon? 🍎💜

OMG THE SOMNO POTENTIAL WITH EPEL'S UM........ how could I have missed it,,, it's literally called Sleep Kiss. T_T uuuwaaaa Epel wanting to practice his UM and you agree to let him practice it on you because surely it won't have any negative impacts, right? But he puts you to sleep and somno ensues...... or he puts you to sleep and the other first years are around as well. >_< you're like a practice pussy for them......

If anyone's going to gaslight and manipulate you into having children, it's all of Harveston. ;;;;; and most of them do it unintentionally. They just think it's so darling Epel has a best friend (read: wifey) like you who is the sweetest thing they've ever met. You and Epel make such a cute couple (of hopefully expecting parents). All of Harveston dotes on you, showering you with affection every time you visit. You're practically part of the village by now. Whenever you come to visit, whether for a holiday or a break, Marja always welcomes you with open arms, as does the rest of Epel's family. But it's Marja who is especially pleased to see you. She checks you over, asks if you've been eating well at NRC, asks if Epel's been looking out for and taking care of you, and so on.

I feel like the entire village would throw such a huge celebration when you finally become pregnant. They make such an event out of it; it startles you at first, but Epel explains this is just because there are so few children around and everyone, especially the elders, are so very excited to finally see the village grow and become more lively with young folks! You'll have everyone's full support before, during, and after your pregnancy! They are just so fond of you and are always encouraging you to eat lots (of foods that improve fertility, but you don't need to know that...).

[redrose10]

This was a request for cop Yoongi from @maryhopemei. I already had something similar drafted so I continued that. I hope it’s okay! I’m working on the requests that I have so I should start getting them out as I get them done.

<Bonnie and Clyde>

Cop Yoongi x Female Cop Reader

Warnings: Guns, violence, gangs, hostage situations, slightly suggestive, mentions of blood and murder, swearing

*******************************************************

Sitting in the crowd watching the newest graduating class of the police academy made you feel proud of course, but it also filled you with dread because you knew one of the rookies was going to be your new partner. You tended to work better alone and you definitely didn’t want your partner to be some newbie that was just going to get in your way.

The captain had dropped the bombshell on you last week. He was kind enough to let you choose your new partner which you promised to advise him of your choice after the graduation ceremony. As you scanned the recruits you thought back to through your options:

Jeon Jungkook: Age 26

Top of his class in physical activities, definitely had the body of a cop, would be your first choice to have next to you in a physical altercation but since you were in narcotics you wanted more brains than brawn.

Park Jimin: Age 28

Didn’t look like a typical cop but maybe that was a good thing. Aced all of his verbal and written tests. You’d spoke to him a couple times and he seemed too sweet so you knew he’d get eaten alive in your line of work and you didn’t want to be responsible for that.

Min Yoongi: Age 31

His superiors noted that he had all the skills necessary to make a great cop but seemed to hold back. He was quiet and mostly kept to himself but was very observant. He didn’t look happy to be there just like you... That was your guy.

So after the ceremony you let the captain know that you’d chosen Yoongi as your new partner much to his surprise, but he obliged and said he’d have the paperwork entered right away.

The next morning you walked into the narcotics department ready to start the day when you ran into your new partner, already making himself comfortable in the desk right next to yours.

Trying to be polite you introduced yourself with a handshake, “Hi, My name is Y/N.”

For a moment he stared down at your hand like he was pondering if he should shake it before he ultimately took it in his, “Yoongi”.

Captain Cho called an emergency meeting wanting to provide some updates on the big case you all were working on.

In the meeting room you took a seat next to Detective Kim Namjoon, one of the few people you trusted.

The walls of the meeting room were littered with photos and drawings, some scribbled with notes.

Captain Cho pinned a new photo onto the wall, “This is Jung Seo Joon. We have confirmed him to be the newest member of Saaghan as he was just recently initiated. He is the third addition this month so we have reason to believe that Kim Myung is planning an attack and trying to beef up his team. We need all officers to be on the lookout and prepared for anything.”

You took in the photo doing your best to memorize the man in front of you.

“Y/N and Yoongi please stay back. I have some things to discuss with you.”, Captain Cho announced before dismissing everyone else.

“Y/N, please get Yoongi caught up on everything with this case so far. Then I want the two of you to head to this address and scope it out. We have reason to believe that Myung hangs out here.”, the captain said handing you a piece of paper.

You nodded before stepping aside to let the captain pass.

Once back at your desk you grabbed a bunch of papers, “So we’ve been working on this case for several years. Have you ever heard of the Saaghan gang?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, “I know more about them than you could ever imagine.”

You bit your lip trying not to say something nasty back. This is exactly why you liked to work alone.

“Okay fine. Let’s just go scope out this location then since you’re already up to date on everything.”

You didn’t even wait for him before storming off to your assigned car.

The location was a small kbbq restaurant on the other side of the city in a run down alleyway. Definitely not somewhere you’d expect a wealthy gang leader to hang out.

“There he is. That’s are guy.”, you whispered after seeing Myung walk out of the restaurant followed by six men in suits.

Yoongi’s hand tightened around his gun, “We should just kill him now.”

You shook your head, “Are you crazy? We’re severely outnumbered. They’ll definitely kill us.”

“If you were a decent cop we could take them right now.”, he scoffed.

“And I’m being a decent human being by not killing YOU right now.”, you mumbled getting an amused laugh out of your partner.

It was a few months later and you and Yoongi were finally starting to warm up to each other a little. His sarcastic remarks started becoming funnier and less annoying to you. You brought him coffee in the morning and he bought you lunch in the afternoon. One day he even dropped by your apartment to bring you soup and medicine after you had called in sick.

He also started following up on the case more and more. He provided lots of good intel on Myung and his gang which you desperately needed. You felt like things were going in the right direction and you were happy to have him as your partner.

Then one night Namjoon stopped you in the hallway and invited you back to his desk.

“Y/N I want to talk to you about Yoongi.”

“Okay?”, you questioned confused.

“I just…I…something seems off about him.”

You were feeling a little defensive about your partner/almost might be considered a friend/very secret take it to the grave crush.

“What do you mean?”, you spat.

Namjoon adjusted his glasses, “Y/N I’m not trying to be disrespectful I promise. It’s just… don’t you think it’s a little weird how he knows so much about the case already? He’s pointed out high ranking members of the Saaghans before we could even attempt to yet somehow Myung always happens to escape as soon as we get there like he knew we were coming. And Jin said he walked in on him getting dressed the other day. He said he has a tattoo…THE tattoo.”

You felt your heart skip at the mention of the tattoo. It was confirmed that all members of the Saaghan Gang had the same tattoo. It was a part of the initiation. All official members had a tattoo on the left side of their chest. A tattoo of a snake curled around a demon, the official symbol of the gang. It was a very distinct tattoo and every artist in the country knew not to tattoo it on anyone that wasn’t official.

You scoffed, “So we’re going by he said she said now? Maybe Jin was mistaken. Besides he shouldn’t be creeping on other officers while they’re changing. That sounds like an HR issue.”

Namjoon sighed getting frustrated, “He wasn’t creeping. It was an accident and why would he lie about something like that? Look Y/N…I know he’s your partner and you guys are getting close but I’m just saying to be careful and keep an eye on him.”

Wordlessly you got up and exited his office feeling angry and hurt but also a little unsure at the same time.

You spent the next few weeks trying to get a glimpse of Yoongi’s chest without making it obvious.

You suggested working out together which he surprisingly agreed to until you suggested swimming as an option. He said he preferred to work on weight training instead of cardio.

You “accidentally” spilled a cup of coffee on his shirt before conveniently pulling a spare out of your backseat. He thanked you and grabbed the shirt before walking into the nearest convenient store to use the restroom to change.

You invited him over to your apartment for dinner and drinks. You poured him shot after shot. You also had a few yourself to try and calm your nerves. Before you knew it, he had pinned you down on the couch, his mouth leaving marks on your skin as his hands roamed underneath your shirt searching for your bra strap.

You were hazy with lust. You wanted him and you were shocked yet excited that it seemed like he wanted you too. Forgetting about the reason you were even in this position to begin with you reached for his shirt and started unbuttoning it. You got three undone before he stopped you and pulled away.

You panicked thinking maybe you misread the situation.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I shouldn’t have done that. We’re both drunk and I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you and we’re co-workers on top of it. I don’t want anything to be complicated between us.”

Before you could reassure him he grabbed his coat and stumbled out of your apartment leaving you feeling all different emotions that revolved around more than just a tattoo.

After that night the two of you remained on a strictly partner/co-worker relationship. The coffee and lunch breaks stopped. You didn’t speak unless it involved work related discussions. You were hurt and disappointed and maybe a little bit heartbroken.

Then one evening Captain Cho called an emergency meeting.

“We have received reliable intel that Myung will be meeting a new supplier at this abandoned factory located at the port. We need to dress and be ready to move out within the next fifteen minutes to meet him there. Everyone have your eyes and ears open. No one goes in alone and no one gets left behind.”

You and Yoongi loaded into the waiting van as it began the hour drive to the location. Namjoon who was sitting across from you gave you a smile and a light squeeze to your knee knowing that you still got a little nervous during raids like these. Yoongi grumbled about something when he noticed you two but you didn’t care enough to clarify.

The van pulled up to the location and you and the rest of the team exited and quietly made your way to the warehouse. You followed closely behind Yoongi up several flights of stares. Suddenly Yoongi stopped after you heard talking. Peaking around the corner you saw Myung and some other man having an altercation.

Unfortunately at that same moment your radio went off. You had forgotten to silence it, a rookie mistake. Myung shouted something and next thing you knew four men with guns were shooting at you both. Yoongi was trying to push you back as gunshots continued to ring through the air as you did your best to fire back while also ducking for cover.

Captain Cho was shouting over the radio for everyone to retreat and abandon mission. Myung took off running with Yoongi closely behind ignoring the captains orders and forgetting about the no one alone rule so you were forced to also chase after him.

“Yoongi stop!”, you shouted dodging a bullet.

“No I’m gonna kill him. Once and for all.”, he gritted through his teeth while reloading his gun. Captain Cho was demanding for your return but you couldn’t let Yoongi go alone.

“Y/N go back to the base. I don’t want you to get hurt.”, Yoongi said.

You shook your head, “No I’m not leaving you.”

Out of nowhere you felt someone shove something hard into the back of your head.

“Myung you fucking bastard. Back away from her. Now!.”, Yoongi hissed with his gun drawn in your direction.

“Or what?”, Myung spat, “Are you going to kill me? Have me arrested? Don’t you remember our little agreement Yoongi? Did you suddenly stop being a gangster and become a bitch of a good cop?”

You were confused by what he meant by all of that but the cold metal pushed into the back of your head was making it difficult to really think straight.

“Myung if you let Y/N go unharmed…I’ll…I will let you go free and take the blame for everything.”

He chuckled, “No no no Yoongi. That’s not how this works. I make the deals now. Not you.”

Yoongi looked above before turning his attention back to you, “Y/N, on the count of three run.”

You shook your head too afraid to move.

“1…2…3!”, he shouted. You tried to move but your feet were frozen. You heard two gunshots go off. The grip Myung had on your body softened as he dropped to the ground besides you and laid lifeless in a pool of his own blood.

You heard commotion above you and you turned to see Namjoon running down the stairs with his gun still drawn. You looked in front of you and saw Yoongi on his knees grasping his arm as blood was quickly soaking his shirt.

“Yoongi!,”, you screamed running towards him thankful he was wearing a bullet proof vest even though he had been shot in the arm by Myung just before Namjoon had shot him.

Namjoon called for medical attention which quickly arrived and you helped Yoongi over to the waiting ambulance.

You were talking to Namjoon as the medics removed Yoongi’s shirt even though he tried to fight it.

And that’s when you saw it. The tattoo on the left side of his chest clear as could be. You didn’t even excuse yourself from Namjoon instead choosing to storm over to Yoongi as the medic was stitching him up.

He refused to make eye contact with you until the medic was finished wrapping his arm up and left you two alone.

“Y/N let me explain.”, he said with his hands reaching out for you. He was cut off when your hand slapped across his cheek leaving a red mark.

You were fighting back tears as you bit your lip, “How could you? You’re one of them. I trusted you Yoongi. Namjoon tried to warn me and I didn’t listen to him.”

He shook his head, “Y/N listen to me. It’s not what you think. I am a member but not like that.”

You scoffed but stood silently otherwise waiting for him to continue.

“My father owed Myung a lot of money. He couldn’t pay him. One night he came to our apartment with two of his men. They…”, he took a deep breath. This was clearly hard for him to say, “They demanded the money and when he couldn’t pay them Myung killed my father. I was hiding in the closet. I was twelve years old when I watched that evil excuse of a man murder my father. Myung had his men stalk me for years. He would never kill a minor. Then when I turned eighteen he started demanding I repay my fathers debts. Of course I didn’t have the money. One night he had his men kidnap me. He told me that I either repay the debts or he would kill me right then just like he had done to my father.”, Yoongi took a shaky breath before continuing again, “Out of fear and desperation I offered him a deal. In exchange for not killing me I would work for him. To my surprise he accepted it. Over time I earned his trust and his respect and made it to a high raking position in the gang. But…but the entire time I was plotting a way to get him back and avenge my father’s murder. So when he came up with this plan to have someone infiltrate the police to get intel I volunteered. I had to do little things like let him know when we were coming so that he wouldn’t be suspicious. But now…I got him killed. That’s all I wanted and now I can move on knowing my fathers murderer is dead….and I can get this stupid tattoo removed. I’ve always hated having this disgusting ugly thing on my body.”, he said pointing at the ink.

You were left speechless. You took a few moments to to collect your thoughts until you heard Captain Cho demanding everyone return to the van immediately.

“Yoongi…I…I’m sorry you went through all of that.”, you whispered reaching for his hand, “Umm but Myung’s men will try to avenge his murder too. Once they find out you turned on him they’ll come after you. You’re in danger Yoongi.”

He shook his head, “I’ll be fine Y/N. I’m going to quit the force and I’ll move far away. But you need to distance yourself from me. They’ll come after you too if they know that you are important to me.”

“Yoongi you can’t leave. You can’t leave the force. You can’t leave me.”, you begged.

“Y/N I need to. For your safety. I love you Y/N and I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you because of me.”

You didn’t even fully register what he had just said to you said before Namjoon walked over and interrupted you, “Listen guys, Cho is ready to loose his shit. We need to go. Hey… where did Yoongi go?”

You nodded before looking around in a panic realizing that Yoongi had disappeared. You looked through your surroundings but it was too dark and you couldn’t see him anywhere.

Dejectedly you followed after Namjoon unsure of what would happen next.

It had been twelve months since you last saw Yoongi at the port. He vanished without a trace. His apartment was left untouched. He never officially resigned from the force but just stopped showing up so they were forced to fire him. You woke up every day hoping you would get some kind of a sign that he was okay. You knew that Myungs men had set their focus on finding him just like you had expected they would. It was hard for you to hear about it but it motivated you to capture every single one of them.

On a Wednesday morning you walked into work feeling exhausted and stressed. You placed your things down on your desk before getting called into Captain Cho’s office.

He handed you a piece of paper, “We got a call from an anonymous informant. They said they have specific details about the whereabouts of Jung Hoseok, the new leader of Saaghan.”

You nodded, “Okay should we get a team together?”

The captain shook his head, “The informant demanded you come alone. He said if you had anyone with you he’d refuse to talk so you’re going to be wired but you’ll go alone. We’ll have backup holding back a few blocks away.”

You nodded nervously but agreed to go.

When you got to a similar kbbq restaurant as before you walked inside to find it completely empty. The elderly woman behind the counter greeted you and directed you to a small room upstairs already knowing who you were there for.

In the small room Yoongi greeted you with a smile. He was dressed in a suit minus the jacket, his hair was much longer than the last time you saw him and he had a noticeable scar going through his right eye.

“Y/N, how have you been?”

“Good, and you?”, you responded still in shock at seeing him.

He nodded, “Great actually, especially now that you’re here.”

Yoongi walked over to you slowly and began pulling on the wire that ran along your body. Of course he knew it would be there. In one snap he disconnected it.

“I know we don’t have long until your team swarms the place now so I’ll make this quick.”, he said putting his jacket on and then handing you a loaded gun. “Run away with me Y/N. I’ll take care of you and provide for you. I’ll keep you safe and you’ll never have to worry about anything ever again.”

“Yoon-Yoongi I can’t do that.”, you stuttered.

“Yes you can Y/N. If you want to be with me like I want to be with you then you can. You know that we can’t be together like this. A cop with a gangster. It’ll never work.”

You shook your head, “But you’re not really a gangster. We can explain what happened. Sure you’ll probably have to do a little jail time but if you agree to provide info on the gang members I’m sure they’ll reduce your sentence significantly. Then we can get you protection and everything.”

He cocked his gun hearing your fellow officers pull up, “You’re right Y/N…I wasn’t a real gangster…but a lot has changed in the last year.”

He walked over to the window and pushed it open before tossing a large duffel bag onto the roof of the building below. Then he turned in your direction. He held his hand out to you with a smirk, “So what do you say Y/N? Want to be the Bonnie to my Clyde?”

[cece693]

Humanity (Rosalie Hale x M! Vamp Reader)

Just got my computer fixed. Something I wrote some time ago, and may be considered unfinished

Summary: What if Rosalie had been accompanied when Royce attacked her? What if her lover got turned into a vampire, and believed it was for the best to break up with Rosalie due to his new status?

tags: blood, death, vampire transformation, the reader doesn't believe Rosalie would continue to love him as a vampire, open-ended

"Go see her." Carlisle advised again, as if you would magically change your mind this time. You turned away, staring out the window at the endless stretch of forest. You didn’t trust yourself, not around her. Every time you closed your eyes, you were back on that cold street, Rosalie’s hand in yours as Royce stumbled toward you both.

He was drunk, furious, and desperate, demanding Rosalie to return to him. It wasn't out of love, no, it was to soothe his ego; no woman had broken up with him, rejected his advances, and gone for someone he perceived less of his status. When Rosalie denied him once more, and Royce stepped forward, you pushed him away, and in the drunken man's rage, had pulled a knife. A quick flash of steel, a sharp sting, and your own blood pooling in your hands.

Carlisle had found you barely clinging to life, and his decision had been swift. The transformation was agony, but nothing compared to the heartbreak of waking up to a world where you couldn’t offer Rosalie the life she deserved.

You’d decided then to let her go.

She deserved more than what you could give her now—a wedding, a family, the chance to grow old surrounded by grandchildren, and eventually, the peace of a natural death. If it were up to you, the moment you awakened, you would've moved to another city—continent even—but Carlisle prevented it. Your red irises would raise questions, but you knew he was also bidding time in case you changed your mind.

“What’s the point, Carlisle?” you finally asked, your voice low and tired. “Seeing me won’t change what’s been done. And I'm not naive as to believe she'll accept...this."

“She’s lost without you.” Carlisle said softly, but you could hear the urgency beneath his calm demeanor. “You both are.” It was true; from what he had told you, Rosalie had been devastated since the news of your "death" reached her. She had become a shadow of herself, locking herself in her room for days, her sobs echoing through the halls of her family’s home. Even her parents' desperate attempts to match her with another suitor fell flat. She wanted no one else—only you.

And as broken as she was, you were worse. A vampire couldn’t die by conventional means, but that hadn’t stopped you from trying. You had thrown yourself from great heights, hoping that maybe, somehow, the impact would do what nothing else could. You had waded out into the deepest waters, letting yourself sink, waiting for the ocean to claim you. And when those failed, you’d simply stopped feeding, your body wracked with a pain that almost matched the one in your chest.

"She's better off without me."

A heavy silence fell between you both. Carlisle’s patience seemed endless, but even you could tell it was wearing thin. He sighed deeply, a weary sound that spoke of centuries of burdens. “Maybe it’s not your choice to make.”

You turned to him, brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” But before he could answer, you heard it—a heartbeat. You stiffened, your senses snapping to attention.

“Carlisle, what did you do?” Then came the sound of her footsteps—soft but purposeful, echoing through the halls. Each step sent a jolt of panic through you, your instincts screaming at you to run, to put distance between yourself and what was coming.

“She deserves to make her own decisions.” Carlisle said quietly, moving past you to open the door.

You didn’t turn around. You couldn’t. Even without looking, her scent flooded your senses, more vivid than you remembered—fresh rain, soft roses, and something uniquely hers, something you could never forget. Your throat burned as venom pooled in your mouth, a stark reminder of the monster you’d become.

This was why you stayed away—why you refused to see her. You couldn’t trust yourself, couldn’t guarantee you wouldn’t hurt her. She deserved better than this dangerous temptation, better than the hollow existence you could offer. Carlisle excused himself, providing you both with some semblance of privacy, but you knew he would be listening. He had faith in your blood control, but accidents always occur.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

Her question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of her pain. You could hear the strain in her voice, the tears she was trying so hard to hold back.

“I’m not who you remember.” If you faced her now, she’d see everything—the darkness, the hunger, the inhuman red of your eyes.“I’m not the person you loved.”

“Then let me see who you are now.” she countered, her voice stronger this time, laced with determination. “Don’t I deserve that much?”

A surge of emotion broke through your defenses, and despite everything, you found yourself turning to face her. The moment your eyes met, the world seemed to stop. Rosalie stood there, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes wide and filled with an overwhelming mix of emotions—relief, pain, anger, and something else, love.

Rosalie's breath hitched as she took in your appearance: your crimson eyes, the paleness of your skin, but you were still you. The man she'd fallen in love with.

"I’ve been in hell since you left." she said, taking a step forward. "I mourned you, cursed the world for taking you away from me. But now you're alive, and you expect me to just walk away? To forget?"

"Yes, I'm dangerous now. One wrong move—a moment of weakness—and I'll hurt you."

"You won't." Rosalie promised, taking a determined step closer. Her voice was steady, filled with a confidence that you could only wish you shared. But the reality of your situation loomed large, the danger too real to ignore. You couldn’t afford to let her get any closer—not when every instinct in your body screamed to protect her from yourself.

In a flash, you moved to the other side of the room, putting as much distance between you as possible. You watched her closely, the slight widening of her eyes betraying the fear she tried so hard to hide. It cut deep, but it was necessary. She needed to understand.

"I can’t give you the life you want—children, growing old, a normal marriage, grandchildren. Nothing." You hissed, your voice trembling with a mix of frustration and anguish. "This isn’t a life I’m going to subject you to. Not if I have a say in it."

Rosalie’s face hardened, the pain of your words clashing with her stubborn determination. “You don’t get to decide what I can or can’t have.” she snapped, her voice rising with defiance. “You don’t get to take away my choices. I want you! Why is that so hard for you to comprehend?”

"Because I don't want it." you admitted, your voice raw with vulnerability. "I’m scared that you’ll come to realize that this—” you gestured vaguely to yourself, to the shadows that clung to you, “—is not what you think it is. That you’ll see the truth of what I’ve become and hate me for it. I can’t bear the thought of you hating me, Rosalie. I can’t bear losing you like that.”

Her eyes softened, the intensity of her defiance shifting to something gentler, more understanding. “You think I haven’t already seen you, all of you?” she asked quietly, taking a step closer. “I know what you’ve become, and I still want to be with you. I’m not afraid of the darkness that’s part of you. I’m afraid of losing you because you’re too afraid to let me in.”

You were silent, struggling to find the right words to respond, the weight of your fears pressing heavily on your chest. The idea of Rosalie coming to hate you was a nightmare you couldn’t fully escape, a specter haunting every corner of your mind. And yet, here she was, standing before you with nothing but love and determination in her eyes.

“You’re not a monster.” she said firmly. “You’re someone I love deeply, someone who’s hurting and needs me just as much as I need you.”

You remained planted on the other side of the room. Your mind was fighting with your heart. You wanted Rosalie, but the risk was too high...she was still a human. Weak. A temptation to the beast now inhabiting you. Could you accept her love when it might soon turn the tide and leave you grieving?

[risuola]

RUTHLESS LOVER — F. READER x FUSHIGURO TOJI

Karma is a bitch. That's what they say and yours will be spectacular for the stunt you pulled off. Was it wise to get in the way of the most dangerous contract killer there is? No. Will Toji get his revenge on you? Most likely.

cw: smut, age gap (Toji is about 30 years old, reader is in her twenties), both reader and Toji are contract killers, tiny bit angsty if you squint, violence and blood mentioned, physical abuse on the reader is described briefly (Toji’s angry, okay?), death threats, lovers to enemies and back to lovers kinda situation, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), pet names, reader discretion is advised — 4k words

PROMPTS: 59. Karma is a bitch. 66. I hate trying to put my desire into words when my body knows exactly what to say. Let’s go home. 71. Drop the attitude.

a/n: this piece was requested; I had so much fun writing it! it's long, as usual, because I just love to have some plot in here, hope you don't mind it. enjoy! : D

Being a part of a world of contract killers is something you inherited from your clan. You were given no choice, but to train your strength and skill, build endurance and get rid of most of the human emotions only to become effective as paid murderer. At first, the thought terrified you, even though you were exposed to blood and death from the age as young as five, but seeing it and being responsible for it are two different things. Taking someone’s life was something you couldn’t imagine yourself doing, but you had to – with shaking hands, you shot a man in the head, missing with the first bullet and wasting another one. You were only fourteen, but your hands already were stained red.

Almost a decade later, death doesn’t phase you anymore. Pushing through the trauma, you became one of the very best in the area, almost hundred percent effective, quick and efficient, and what comes with that, very highly demanded and paid. When you turned eighteen, you left your clan and not knowing what to do with your life further, you sticked to one thing you were good at – killing, and you worked on your own from that time on.

"Shit," you mutter under your breath, pressing your back against the cold, rough wall. Your fingers grip the gun tightly and you quickly try to think of a way out. This was supposed to be one of those missions that you were most likely going to fail, and you didn't care as long as you got out alive.

"You were so brave back then and now you're hiding?" male voice bounces off the empty corners of the mansion, echoing in such a way that you're not sure where it's coming from. You can't hear his footsteps, but you know he's on the move. "That's disappointing, are you that frightened?"

"Why would I be frightened, huh?" you ask, checking the nearest hallway and making your way through it, slowly and quietly, careful not to make any unnecessary noise.

Situations like this are usually a complication – when two assassins are assigned the same target by two unrelated parties, it often makes things more difficult, but you're used to dealing with that. You're just faster, better at your job, and you can easily take down a grown man in a hand-to-hand encounter, but not this man. Toji Fushiguro is not a man you can take down, no matter how much force you put into it. He's definitely the most wanted criminal of the present time, infamous with high demands and no limits. He's perfect for the job – ridiculously strong, with a body hard and muscular, but insanely fast at the same time. He's bulletproof, he's unbeatable. The definition of a one-man army, he's said to have succeeded in all but one of his missions. A few years ago, it was the biggest assassination of the century in the history of Japan, a group of important politicians made as the target. With an idiotic amount of money thrown into the job, Toji was easily the most logical choice when it came to who to hire. The spectacular failure had almost cost him his reputation and his job, he was absent from the scene for over a year and it was over a year and it was you who was responsible for the unfortunate ending for him.

You were young at the time, in need to make a living after escaping your clan's clutches, and you took small jobs here and there, trying to make a name for yourself in a world full of respectable assassins. Unknown at the time, you wrapped few people around your finger and found out about the ordered assassination of the politicians. This was it; this was your chance not only to earn some real money, but also to secure your position. The job was long-term, it required a lot of research and observation, but you were well aware of Fushiguro, who was chosen to do it in the first place, so instead of racing with him and risking your life by getting in his way, you stripped yourself of all hitman traits and deliberately crossed paths with him. You became lovers. You made him drop his guard, used your charms to get your name off his list of suspects, which cleared the way for you to learn his work plan and everything he had researched. For a few months you've been with him, spending endless nights beneath his powerful body, and when everything was ready, you just ate the cherry off the top of the cake. You made a few crucial alterations to his notes, as subtle as changing the time by a few minutes, but those few minutes gave you an open door to complete his mission. You killed those politicians with clear, long-range shots to the head, took the money for it and planned to leave after that, but Toji had seen you.

"I don't know, you tell me," his deep voice reaches your ears again and you look back nervously, seeing nothing but empty spaces. You hate the echo in this place and you hate how easily Toji's appearance makes you lose your calm. It doesn't happen often, you're usually very composed, you're a cold thinker and emotions never get the better of you, but you're smart. You know when to act with confidence and when to back off, and this situation is definitely the one to back off from. In a close confrontation, you're no match for Fushiguro. "Oh, you must be scared to death as you're tippy-toeing through these corridors, clutching your little gun like it's going to save you."

"Aren't you a little cocky?" you try to keep your voice steady, but the accuracy with which he described you makes you feel uneasy. You look around once more, pushing your senses to their limits to catch anything in the surroundings that might indicate the direction from which his voice came.

"Oh, hardly. I'm just having fun. I've waited so long to finally meet you again. I must admit, the stunt you pulled on me was quite impressive, I did not see it coming," you can hear the amused tone in his voice, it sounds almost sadistic and you can easily imagine his lips curling into a smirk.

When Toji realized that his little girl, the one he thought would one day become his wife, was the person behind his failure, his blood boiled. He allowed himself to be a pawn in your hands and you took almost everything from him, so he promised revenge and researched you for months. The more he learned, the more it made sense, but it also impressed him in a way. Remembering how easy it is to snap and bend your body to his liking, he couldn't help but be in awe of the fact that you were capable of taking down a gang all by yourself or pull off dangerous missions completely alone. His attraction to you grew the more he got to know about you, and if it weren't for the mistake you made when planning your little mischief, he'd probably propose right away.

"I could have dropped a building on your head and you wouldn't have noticed," you snapped with a little too much courage even for your own liking, and the laughter that followed your little statement only reassured you of how screwed you were.

"A lil' mouthy, aren't we?" He laughs, and once again you turn around at the faint rustle behind you.

"Would you prefer me to shut up?"

"Oh no, speak while you still can," his voice rumbles against the walls again and you are sick of the game. Your own senses betray you and you move forward, almost running, while clutching the weapon he has already pointed out to be useless against him.

"Is the threat to crush my throat on the table, or do you mean my death in general?"

"There are so many delightfully horrible things I could do to you, I am not sure which one to choose."

God, how much you hate this. Pictures of many terrifying, spine-chilling punishments run through your mind, and at this point you give up the job completely.

"To be perfectly honest, I thought you had retired from the field," you tell him, calculating the possibility of outrunning him. "After the most spectacular failure in the history of failures, I assumed you wouldn't be showing up again."

"I wouldn't worry about that, sweetheart. If I were you, I would worry about myself."

"You're just a talker, Fushiguro. I'm not afraid of an old fart like you."

"Drop the attitude."

The split second you had before receiving the hardest blow to the stomach you'd ever experienced was nowhere near enough to react. It sent you flying many meters away, and the impact ripped a hole in the thin wall you hit with your back. Your vision goes blurry as you land on the marble floor, surrounded by luxuriously wallpapered debris, and for a moment you think this is it. Everything hurts, you feel as if all your insides were broken by that one blow. The metallic taste of blood fills your mouth and you cough, turning your body to the side, you feel like throwing up, but only red comes out of your throat.

"Did it hurt?" the man steps through the hole and it's the first time you've seen him since the day you took his job years ago. He looks even taller than you remember, the black short-sleeved shirt clinging to his bulging muscles as he makes his way towards you, and as if your limbs were unconsciously moving, you try to slide away from him. "Poor little thing, not so brave now, are you?" he taunts and you remain silent, aware of how every word can be used against you. "Cat got your tongue?"

You move away, but he grabs your ankle and pulls you in. His long fingers claw at your cheeks as he reaches up and looks at you with amusement, pulling your face in front of his own. "See, sweetheart, karma is a bitch, and yours will be just as spectacular as the stunt you pulled on me."

Helplessly, you grip his thick forearm, hoping to force the dead grip on your face to loosen, but to no avail. His strength is unparalleled and you are damned. You put everything you've got into the kick that lands cleanly on his chest and he lets go of you, unimpressed by the attack. He doesn't even flinch, but with the freedom you've earned, you just run away, desperately trying to put as much distance between you and him as humanly possible. Maybe if you could somehow get to the airport and fly to the other side of the world, you'd be safe for a while?

"Do you really think I'm going to let you run away again?" he grows in front of you out of nowhere and you barely manage to stop yourself before running straight into his chest. With how ripped he is, that alone would probably break a nose. "No, there's no way out for you, princess," his lips are curled into a grin so cold it could freeze the blood in your veins, and before you can turn around, his big hand is wrapped around your neck. He pushes you against the wall, this time it's concrete, but it still cracks from the force he's used. It's getting harder to breathe, you feel like your throat is going to be crushed any second. "You should just say you're sorry and I might consider not strangling you to death."

"I'm sorry," you choke out almost too fast, too desperate, and he laughs out loud.

"You'd do anything I told you to save yourself, wouldn't you?" he mocks, but the hold on your neck loosens just enough to allow the slightest flow of air through your windpipe. "If I told you to suck my dick, would you get down on your knees?"

You don't reply, you don't even know how to reply. The answer is obvious, you would definitely give him a head if it would convince him to spare your life, but you know it wouldn't be a deal breaker. It would just be a power move before he threatens you some more and you don't want to give him the satisfaction of using you if his plan is to torture you further.

"No," you finally mutter, digging your nails into his forearm, but instead of letting go, he tightens his grip around your neck, making you whimper and squint. "T-toji-"

"Look what you've done, that's going to leave a bruise for sure," he chuckles, throwing you to the side like a rag doll. Your weight is nothing to him, but you feel it when it hits the ground.

"Fuck..." you exhale and pull yourself up as fast as you can, both ashamed and angry at how helpless you are against him. Two decades of training, hundreds of men you've taken down with nothing but your bare hands, and now you can't do a goddamn thing. Pathetic.

Fed up with your own behavior, you decide to try and fight. If there's no way he's going to let you out alive, you might as well cause him some trouble. Any trouble. And so, you engage him in hand-to-hand combat, making sure to dodge each of his blows and land yours cleanly. Your fists and kicks hit his body but do no damage. It's as if he's allowing your punches to connect with his form, as if he's having so much fun and it's getting on your nerves. You use everything in your path – dishes fly, doors slam, glass shatters and chairs are thrown, but when the wooden stool breaks, easily stopped by Toji's forearm, you're lost.

Once again you find yourself against the wall, only this time his body is pressed against yours without any additional hurt being inflicted. He keeps you pinned down and you can hear his heartbeat, feel the bulging erection resting on your stomach and you look up to see his face. His black hair hangs loosely over his dark green eyes, his gaze jumping from your eyes to your parted lips as you pant shallowly.

"To be honest, I don't give a fuck about what you did," he finally admits, lowering his head enough to plant a kiss on the corner of your lips. "I want you back. Is that something you'd want, too?"

"Does my life depend on how I answer?" you ask quietly, your hands landing on his sides. You feel the hard muscle that seems to surround his entire body, it's almost too impressive to be real.

"No. I'm not going to kill you. I've already taught you a lesson, you won't mess with me again."

"I won't," you agree, feeling your body deflate. The tension that kept you stiff and afraid almost painfully, leaves your form and you lean into him. "Then I want you back, too."

"Great." Toji's lips fall upon yours and you give in instantly, a soft moan rumbling in your chest as his skilled mouth molds to yours, as if he was created to kiss you. One of your hands cups his face while the other runs through his raven locks, soft as silk, and you grab a handful of them, pulling him away before you get too lost in the feeling. He groans in discontent, looking down at you with the expression of a child whose toy has been taken away. With your thumb, you wipe away the red residue of your blood that remains on his lower lip.

"We should get out of here," you tell him, and he rolls his eyes, but agrees. "And then you'll tell me how much you've missed me."

"I hate trying to put my desire into words when my body knows exactly what to say," he chuckles, scooping you up in his arms as if you're nothing but air. "Let's go home."

The ride home is quick, too quick in fact, not giving you enough time for the pain in your stomach to subside, but you can't focus on that too much when he's all over you as soon as the doors to his apartment close. Toji's hands push your clothes away, pulling and tugging at the many layers of fabric you have on, and you can hear loose buttons bouncing off the wooden floor as he leads you toward the bedroom. You know the place, it's the same one you spent many long months in before you ran away from him.

"Toji," you whisper as he slides his hand down your unbuttoned pants, right into your underwear, and the sudden pressure he deftly applies over your clit makes your body shudder from the unexpected wave of euphoric impulses. He knows your buttons, he knows how to push them to rid you of any composure, and he uses that knowledge to the fullest.

"Yes, sweetheart?" he responds to his name, his lips brushing your ear as you cling to his enormous bicep for dear life. "Talk to me, does it feel good?"

"Oh yes," you mutter, determined not to be the only one stuttering, so you lower your hand, your fingers slipping easily under the waistband of his gray pants and through the fabric of his boxers you feel the shape of his cock. It's rock hard, struggling to find enough room in the trap of his underwear, and as you stroke it with your warm palm, a low growl escapes his mouth. Taking it a step further, you push the cotton down and your breath hitches at the sight of his erection springing free, the sheer heaviness of the girth making it impossible for him to fully stand up.

"Like what you see?" he teases, sliding one of his long fingers through your folds and into your hole, curling it so perfectly that you moan against his muscular chest. With ease, Toji lays you down on the dark sheets on his bed, not stopping his handy work for a split second before hovering over you, his lips glued to the soft skin above your neck. Quickly it's clear that the marks will last for days, but that is the last thing you can worry about when his fingers are stretching you so lovely.

You push your pants down, desperate to give him more space, and he gets the hint, pulling them along with your panties off with a sharp tug of his free hand. Pleased with how eagerly you spread your legs for him, he hums against the dip of your shoulder, a grin painting his expression in amusement as he adds two more fingers. They slip right in, your slick covering them right away, and you whimper, digging your fingernails into his strong arms. All your mind can focus on is the irresistible want to have his dick inside you, you need it and everything that comes with it – the burning pain, the roughness, the bites and bruises. Toji Fushiguro is a ruthless lover, he's able to set all your nerves ablaze, to make your mind blank, make you forget your own name.

The warmth piles up in your stomach, you slowly fall into a trance as he abuses the sweet spot inside you and you don't even notice how he moves down your body. The realization hits you when his tongue flicks against your clit and your whole body shudders at the new layer of pleasure. The satisfied smile never leaves his face as he looks up at your worn-out self while he's working on the nerve bud. His fingers move and twist inside you as he sucks, licks and kisses simultaneously, taking away your breath and any last shred of composure. He's savoring the sweetness, the taste driving him wild and he knows how close you are, the muscles of your insides squeezing his fingers in waves, your thighs trembling against his broad shoulders and your fingers clawing at the sheets with crashing force.

His name rolls off your tongue in a breathy way and he hums against your clit, the vibration sending you over and pulling you under the ocean of endorphins. You come onto his mouth, his fingers covered in white and all you can see is stars. Short pants and broken breaths leave your parted mouth as he presses his own against them in a sloppy, messy kiss. Toji kicks off his own pants and gives himself a few pumps before sliding the head of his cock along your folds.

You whimper into the kiss, slipping your hands under the black t-shirt, desperate to feel his body. With a brief pause, he breaks the connection between your mouths to remove the rest of clothes and you give in, taking the moment to catch your breath.

"Fuck," you cry out, your back arching, your head falling back at the feeling of burning stretch as he pushes his size into you. It hurts, but the pain is delicious, it makes you want more and he gives you just that. He grunts low and gravelly as he collapses onto one of his elbows, overwhelmed by the tight squeeze of your warm hole and as he bottoms out, he takes a second to collect himself. It would be unacceptable if you milk him so quickly, just with the mind-blowing sensation of your cunt.

"So tight," he purrs against your neck, pulling one of your thighs over his hip. Your lips collide again and he rolls his hips for the first time, teasingly pulling all the way out only to push back in one swift motion. He does this several times before finally setting a pace that has you holding onto his shoulders just to steady yourself. With the strength of his body, his thrusts are ruthless, almost violent, but it's the roughness that makes him such a great lover. The intensity of his fat cock almost tearing you in half is what gives you the highest highs and he knows exactly how to use his girth to fuck you stupid.

You're whimpering into his lips, your body shaking beneath him as he rolls his pelvis, angling his hips so he can kiss every sensitive spot inside you with every thrust. The power of his pistons increases. Drinking in your reactions, he feels himself growing, his cock twitching and flexing in your warm embrace, a white coating forming at the base of his cock and he feels lightheaded.

Grabbing both your knees, Toji presses them almost to your ears, your calves hook over his shoulders and as he rams his length into you, you feel like you're going to pass out from the sheer amount of stimulation. With each stroke, his body bounces off your clit, the sound of skin slapping fills the bedroom and you feel yourself squirming as your legs tremble and your breath stutters. You're close and he knows it, the smirk on his lips giving it away as he takes in the sight of you losing every last bit of connection to the real world.

It only takes a few more unforgivable, deep slams of his cock against your sweet spot to have you shaking violently. It's too much, the feeling of him stretching you to the very brink and the heat surges through your veins, setting your body alight as pleasure erupts. The overwhelming wave of euphoria makes drown in the blissful haze as you feel the orgasm unfolding and he thrusts his hips through it, chasing his own release.

As Toji cums inside you, pumping his warm load into you, you come once more, much weaker, but for your overstimulated body it feels like an explosion all over again. A mixture of broken pants fills the room as the wet, sex sounds fade away. Toji pulls out and flips you both over so that you can lie on top of his body instead of him collapsing upon yours, possibly crushing you with his weight.

His demeanor changes completely, with aftercare he's gentle, his hands soft on your skin as he caresses you. “I missed you,” he whispers against your hair, planting soft kisses on the top of your head and you smile.

“I missed you too, Toji.”

[ken-dom]

Everything Looks Better When The Sun Goes Down

Driver x afab!reader

3k words

∘₊✧ Summary: Getaways usually come with a strong dose of adrenaline. He can usually deal with it himself, but this time a far more thrilling prospect presents itself.

∘₊✧ Authors notes: I wrote this well over a month ago, and finally decided to dust it off and post, with encouragement from K, with whom the Driver conversation is never-ending and delicious! I would advise caution because he's kinda creepy in this one (compared to how I’ve written him before). Title from Make Me Wanna Die by The Pretty Reckless.

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: NSFW, dubious consent, masturbation, fingering, sex, glove kink, kissing kink, just a dash of sneaky, creepy, stalker-y Driver

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Driver’s leather-covered fingers tightened with a creak of resistance against the steering wheel. He might know the roads like the back of his hand, but being the getaway driver comes with the occupational hazard of not actually being able to control what your chasers will do, no matter how clever and thorough your plan.

Even if you’ve seen every trick in the book. Even if you have something of a sixth sense for predicting their movements.

Surprises can’t always be avoided, and tonight he was doing his best to get out of a surprise.

This had been just a touch more complicated to plot than his usual getaway routine. Locations hadn’t been quite as simple to pin down so timings would be off and he couldn’t have that. The only alternative was to alter his default plan of action only very slightly, yet the risks, apparently, tripled.

Or maybe Driver had just been unlucky.

He had kicked out the two masked men he had been hired to drive, easily getting rid of them en route as part of the plan, sticking to time down to the second, and then embarking on the more unusual part two, which simply required Driver to get himself away and hide the car somewhere different to where he’d hidden them. The route was meticulously added to his map, the hiding spots checked, double and triple checked, ahead of time.

Yet, despite the police radio suggesting they’d lost sight of tonight’s unassuming car of choice, the cops had picked back up, hot on Driver’s trail the moment he pulled back out onto the main streets.

He didn’t bat an eyelid at first. He knew what he was doing, after all; this wasn’t his first car chase by a long stretch. If he wanted to ‘wing it,’ he could. Easily. But he would never. He would simply go about the bulletproof backup plan designed for the event that this unlikely situation would come to fruition. All was fine.

Except that he really couldn’t seem to shake them. Every move he made, it was as though they’d read his mind and were one step ahead. It wouldn’t have been possible, but it was as if they somehow seen his detailed maps. They were only for his eyes though, and if anyone ever did see them… well. He would have to make it so that they remained only for his eyes.

Whatever was going on here, it seemed almost like someone was out to get him personally. His jaw clenched at the thought and his heart began to slam against his chest, breathing fast and ragged.

He tried to refocus. On the road, on the soft interior of his jacket against his arms. On the toothpick almost chewed in two between his teeth.

There were limited options at this point, and he was running out of ideas, running out of streets to slip down before they could predict his next action.

Driver firmly reminded himself to stick to the facts and ignore his physical response. He was still ahead. Just. 

Actually, he was nearing your house. Oh…

No.

He shouldn’t distract himself, but it was hard not to notice that he’d pulled onto your street almost by muscle memory alone and he wondered if you’d see him, followed by that one police car that he was sure would soon be two, then three, sirens blazing.

It was darker down here. Residential, with parked cars dotted up and down the road, canopied with large leafy trees that blocked out the moonlight, too. So he killed his headlights and slowed down to avoid attracting any additional unwanted attention.

His ears pricked up as the discussion on the radio started up again in place of relaying the names of the streets they were chasing him down; they’d lost him again.

Just like last time they lost him. But they had found him as soon as he resurfaced, and he couldn’t sit out here on your street all night in plain view, no matter how unsuspecting the car may look to your neighbours.

A little blue Honda rattled by and he flinched.

Come on. Get a grip, he scolded himself.

His head began to pound.

He needed to find somewhere new to hide the car properly, and hide himself while he was at it. Fast. Somewhere he could stay for long enough that they’d really give up this time.

Another thought struck him and he blinked hard. He had to regain some self control. But your house was approaching on the right.

He couldn’t. Could he? 

His eyes scanned the street. There were no other Hondas. No other moving vehicles. He couldn’t see anyone peering out of their windows into the dark street. 

Then he found the end of your driveway, visible in the near distance. Your garage door was up. No car. You were out. Perfect.

No. He couldn’t.

Fuck. He was going to have to. 

Besides, if anything did come of this, he could keep you safe. He was sure of that. No harm would ever come to you on his watch. Ever.

He slowly pulled onto your driveway and rolled the car to a gentle stop inside the garage, winding down the driver side window to punch the button on the wall that controlled the garage door. With a low hum and a light clicking, it swung down and locked into place with a soft clunk.

Complete darkness. The purr of the engine. And then, the crackle of the police radio.

Driver tensed, every bit of focus honed in on the voices coming through the small device.

With a note of three identifiable items: the car colour, model and number plate (two of which could easily be altered), and a reminder of where it was last seen (the next street along from this one), they’d officially given up the chase.

He relaxed into his seat, slumping down and stretching his long legs as far as they could lengthen in the confinement of the footwell, spreading his knees and dropping his head back against the headrest.

He would need to stay here for now, but that was manageable.

He killed the engine, trying to force his breath even and steady himself before he got out. 

Although it had been tough, now it was over, he couldn’t deny that it had been exciting. There was rarely a time it wasn’t.

He felt a stirring in his core, the familiar thrill that ran through his trembling body every time he got away, high on adrenaline and filled with self satisfaction.

And he did get away. Every time. But this time? It had been a closer call than any he could remember and he was shaking, excitement coursing through his veins, sending all his blood south to throb between his spread thighs.

He chuckled, smirking and dropping his hands to his lap from where they were still bracing, tight storing the steering wheel. His breath caught in his throat as one palm slowly teased higher up his thigh.

It was becoming painful to sit here in these too-tight jeans, the denim rough against his leaking cock, and he hissed as he dragged his palm over the thrumming bulge that had formed inside them the moment he knew he was safe.

He felt a particularly thick drop of precum leak from his tip, gasping at the short lived relief his wandering hand had provided, gloved fingers now flying to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his jeans and free his aching length, all patience out the window. It didn’t matter how long it took. He just needed the release.

But as the first button popped undone, his ears pricked up at the unmistakable sound of tires rolling onto your driveway behind that garage door. He froze, heart racing, cock twitching, every sense heightened almost painfully.

He relaxed when he heard your car door slam shut, the sound of your shoes on the gravel. He’d know those sounds anywhere. He knew all the sounds you made – he’d studied you enough – and had an entire catalogue of them stored away safely in the back of his mind.

Hastily, he reached for the radio and flipped the switch back on. Nothing. Nothing about him, anyway. Nothing about you. You were safe even with him locked away inside your garage.

He heard your keys jingling against the lock of your front door, knowing you were inside once it had clicked shut and the jingle was muffled.

He breathed a long, shaky sigh of relief.

Seconds later, his personal cell buzzed from inside his jacket pocket.

One hand resting still against the denim covering his aching hard on, he fished his phone out and unlocked it, absentmindedly rubbing his fingertips over his length and whimpering when he saw your name on the screen above the message you’d sent.

‘Hey, babe… you up?’

Another thick pearl of precum.

Fuck. He could hide in here all night, sexting with you from just the next room, or…

He didn’t bother fastening up his belt or that one button he’d opened when he swung the car door open and jumped out, biting back a moan at the friction of his jeans settling, slightly looser and more comfortable, against his cock as he stood.

He knew where you kept your spare key, and the combination on the safety box that kept it hidden, so he retrieved it and let himself in through the internal garage door that led to your kitchen.

Driver was silent. Barely a sound as he crept through the house, knowing every floorboard and the placement of every piece of furniture down to the millimetre.

The house was dark, which made it easy for him. You’d only switched on one lamp since you returned; the one in the hallway where you still stood, hanging up your jacket and waiting for him to reply.

Your phone laid unlocked on the sideboard, opened to the message you’d sent him as you slipped off your shoes, eagerly awaiting his reply. 

‘Come on,’ you breathed needily at your screen, ‘start typing!’ — and Driver swallowed hard.

He stuck to the shadows as he watched you, from the kitchen doorway, careful not to let his breathing turn too heavy, and certainly not above stroking himself over his jeans a couple of times just for the thrill of it.

You threw your shoes in the cupboard and picked up your phone again, checking to see if he was typing yet, and upon seeing that he wasn’t even online right now, you heaved a disappointed breath.

He might not have typed a reply, but he was ready to answer you.

‘I’m up,’ he breathed, hot against the back of your neck and you jumped, but his arms wrapped tight around yours, keeping you from fighting back, and he pulled you close as he breathed you in.

The still-gloved fingers of one of his hands hand toyed with the neckline of your shirt, ghosting around your throat as the other thrust unceremoniously into your jeans and dragged through your folds.

Even with his gloves on, he could tell you were already soaked.

It took you a terrifying moment, but your instinctual fear subsided, quickly replaced with burning arousal when you felt his cock pressing into your back, smelled his familiar scent, felt his glove teasing at your throat.

‘You are up,’ you sighed, reaching behind yourself to snake a hand between your flush bodies and drag your palm over his length in time with the fingers so precisely massaging your clit, and you moaned. Loud.

Driver’s knees felt like they might give out.

‘Mmmh-’ he hummed into your ear, ‘s-stop- fuck-’

You grinned, smug as ever about how easy he was to unravel, and at the wet patch you’d felt seeping through his thick jeans.

Despite the heat rapidly pooling at your core, you didn’t think on it for long, because any coherent thought was immediately pushed out of your mind when his hands left your core and throat, instead gripping your shoulders and spinning you to face him, slamming you back against the wall, his lips crashing onto yours with bruising force.

He pushed a thigh between your legs, pressing firmly against your heat and you moaned, muffled by his mouth as his tongue dragged hungrily against yours. Driver was always such a needy kisser, so passionate and intense and it made your head spin. But this was something else. 

You gripped him hard, moaning and writhing against him, and he shuddered at your reaction, whining against your lips before fully pulling away to focus on freeing his cock.

Slightly dizzy, you removed your own trousers as fast as you could, hooking a leg around his waist as he shoved his wet jeans down and pushed forward, lifting you in his strong arms to help you clamp your other leg around his waist.

His eyes slid closed as he felt your slick against his cock, trying with all his might not to spill his release before he’d fucked you. The adrenaline was still so fresh, spurred on by breaking in and sneaking up on you, that he could hear his blood pumping in his ears. He felt almost invincible; but he knew that with just one eager and misguided move he would cum, ending it all too soon.

No. He needed to feel you around him. Feel you clench with need. Hear you scream. Fill you up.

He closed his eyes to refocus.

Now you were pinned between him and the wall, he slipped a hand down to guide himself to your entrance, a simultaneous relieved groan from both of you echoing around your entrance hall as he slid himself inside.

He stilled for a moment, composing himself, forehead pressed to yours because he knew that a kiss, even a soft and tender exchange, would break him.

He also knew that right now, one thrust and it would be over for him, so he moved his fingers up, massaging your clit in slow, precise circles, as though this was all designed purely to give you time to adjust.

Your head dropped back and you squirmed, trying to fuck yourself on him as his fingers sent wave after wave of shuddering bliss through your body. The angle was delicious, but balanced around his waist you couldn’t move enough to get what you needed.

‘Please,’ you begged, ‘fuck me- please-’

Driver growled, low and dark, against your throat. He could never resist giving you exactly what you wanted, and he could feel your walls tightening around him already. A low groan tore from his throat. You were close too. 

Sicko, he thought. Like it when I break in and sneak up behind you? Shove a hand in your pants to try and get you off before you even realise it’s me?

Keeping his fingers against your throbbing bundle of nerves, he fucked you alright. Hard and fast and unrelenting, hips snapping frantically as he whimpered and gasped weakly into the thick air filling the inch between your mouths.

It was too late to stop his orgasm approaching. He’d been simmering for too long, and the way you’d kissed him, the way you’d begged him, the way you got wet just from him acting like a creep… his head was spinning.

The way he was fucking you, unceasing and intense, had you clawing at his jacket, wishing he’d taken it off so you could feel more of him, but there was no time. You pushed your fingers up to slide through his soft, neat hair instead, and he shuddered against you, biting down on his bottom lip. His blood boiled.

Fuck it. He smashed his lips back onto yours, tears pricking his eyes.

He finally spilled inside you, cock pulsing through his release. He squeezed his eyes shut, painfully aware you hadn’t cum yet, but his fingers on your clit hadn’t ceased, and as his cock began to soften, sensitive with aftershocks, he felt you clench tight around him. Your fingertips scraped against his scalp and your legs tightened around his waist and you cried out, loud and strangled, bucking your hips wildly as you chased your release.

Driver’s eyes welled with the tears he couldn’t bite back, dropping onto your shirt.

As you came down from your high, you stroked his hair back into place and slipped down from your position, standing on wobbly legs, head spinning, and Driver propped himself up with an arm against the wall, caging you in.

Your palm grazed his cheek, a tender thumb wiping his tears away.

He leant into your touch, eyes closed and breath slowing all the while.

‘So it was you who closed my garage door?’ you whispered, and he nodded against your palm. ‘Naughty boy,’ you added, teasing.

He looked up at you through the most stunning, sparkling, wet eyes and you knew you’d never stay mad for long – especially not when he fucked you so good and unravelled for you so easily.

‘Been on a job, baby?’ you cooed.

He nodded against your palm again.

‘Gonna jerk off in my garage until I arrived home and ruined the moment?’

Driver stiffened, eyes wide as he considered you, awed at the way you understood how his mind worked. Against his better judgement, he nodded, slowly.

‘Filthy boy,’ you added with a playful smirk. ‘Glad you found me instead, though.’

‘Yeah?’ he managed, weak and quiet, voice cracking.

‘Yeah. I fucking love it when you try so hard not to cum right away.’

His brow furrowed, but you hooked your fingers under his chin and lifted his gaze back to you, softly pressing your lips to his once again.

He whimpered, feeling weak, but he needed this more than anything after the rush. He was crashing, fast and needed comfort. Safety.

‘Wanna get into bed and make out until we fall asleep?’

Driver’s heart skipped, and he nodded again. It wasn’t always a bad thing to feel like someone was reading his mind.

[lavenderfilledcoffin]

embrace

verb

hold (someone) closely in one's arms, especially as a sign of affection.

*♪¸¸.•*¨･:*ೄ·*♪¸¸.•*¨･:*

Urbanshade. Hadal Blacksite. Oh how you wish you could forget it all.

Being falsely imprisoned and given a second chance at life if you were to bring back an "important" crystal.

The money was tempting, and you were on the brink of going crazy.

You wish you had never taken their offer.

Eyefestation was a total pain. The sight of her caused your brain to melt, literally.

Squiddles are terrifying in your own way if you don't watch your step.

Anglers...

"Shi—t!" You yelp out, pushing yourself out of the locker while almost getting caught by an angler.

You started to hyperventilate, the anxiety of being in the locker being all too much to bear.

You check your vitals, your health was not in good shape and you needed to find a med kit soon. "Damn." You whisper to yourself.

You look up, the numbers displaying 34 in bright green. Almost halfway there.

After narrowly escaping death every few doors, this place's true nature started to finally set in.

You found an office room, away from everything. You couldn't help but sit down and lean your head against the wall.

Your loved ones. Did they still think of you? Did they believe those lies of those false murders? Did they even miss you?

Fat tears welled up in your eyes. "No..." You mumble, clinging onto yourself for false comfort.

'Get the crystal, and get out of here.' Those words repeated in your mind, playing over and over again like a broken record.

The stinging pain near your solar plexus didn't help either, it felt like this was hell already.

You forced yourself to stand up, wiping the tears away as you look up to the next door.

Door 50.

You pushed on, your health slowly declining. A sharp pain in your thigh becoming more and more apparent. It's a wonder you haven't passed out from exhaustion yet.

You make your way into door 51, then you saw 52 in bright blue. Shit. A keycard door.

As if on cue, a vent cover suddenly flew open, "stranger, over here."

A muffled male voice spoke out, it lulled you but you were still hesitant. What if it was an entity mimicking a human voice?

You had no other choice, you were alone in this horrible place with no one to communicate with.

"Welcome, welcome! Don't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you—" He continued on, introducing himself and his little shop he has for expendables like yourself.

You walk up to his tail, noticing the huge size difference between the both of you. You gulp, shaking subtly while grabbing a med kit, and handing him loose assets. His form of payment was simple, DNA vials, usb sticks, and other files  that were junk to you.

"Thank you." His ear fins and tail wiggled with excitement, his hands rubbing together.

You use the med kit, healing yourself with the sterile gauze and septic spray inside of the small box.

You awkwardly smile at him, taking your leave after purchasing a lantern, and grabbing the keycard.

He watched your form disappear through the vent. "Stay safe now." He advised, sighing to himself as he heard the door's keycard scanner chime and unlock.

Well. That was new.

Death after death, you just wouldn't stay dead. What the hell was going on? This truly must be hell-on-Earth.

At least it meant you could see Sebastian.

"Oh, you're back, lovely." He pulled his lure down, causing it to flicker on, and he greeted you with his usual smile.

"I was so close to retrieving the crystal but... I couldn't leave you." Memories of your last run played in your head, that split second decision of leaving Sebastian behind and going back home, or continue being tormented by these creatures...

Sebastian.

"Better luck next time." His voice interrupted your thoughts, playfully ruffling your hair up with his third arm.

You hum in response to his words, deciding not to dwell on the fact that he ignored how you chose him over freedom, basically.

He picked you up with ease, two of his arms holding you up like a cat while his third rest on his hip.

His eyes shone into yours, it's almost blinding, but you didn't mind.

"Stay here with me." His words stunned you. Your eyes blink repeatedly as if it would help you process them quicker.

"W... What?"

"You heard me."

"I..." You weighed your options carefully. Was it worth it? Abandoning your life to stay with this abnormally large fish?

His company is pleasant, but what would happen if you were to be injured? What if he was hurt, what if—

"Hey, eyes on me." His voice brought you out of your trance. "Well?"

"Okay. I'll... Stay." A knot of excitement and regret tightens in your stomach.

"Good." He sets you down on his tail, turning you around so your back is against him.

Sebastian then started fiddling with the explosive on your neck, opening the back compartment, being met with all sorts of wires.

Your blood turned cold, cold sweat started to form as you anxiously anticipated the results.

You shut your eyes tightly, trembling a little, but he reaches his third arm to reassuringly rest it on your shoulder.

You expect the worst, a clink is heard and you yelp; expecting it to blow up.

But it falls off, a weight, literally, has been lifted off of you.

You reach your hands up to your neck, absolutely astonished.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." You repeatedly cry out, wrapping your arm around where his waist would be.

He wrapped his arms around you in return, a smile plastered on his face. "I enjoy your company, [Name]."

"I do too, Seb."

"Using nicknames now, huh?" He chuckled at his own words, patting your head with his left hand.

"I'll allow it, only because it's you." He scooped you up into his arms, cradling you as his tail acts as a cushion for himself.

"Tired?" You question, his lure's light flickering softly.

"Maybe." He yawns after, shaking his head to shorten the dizziness period.

You rest your head against his chest, closing your eyes.

"Goodnight. Or, whatever time it is." You mumble, already falling asleep, somehow.

Sebastian reaches a hand up to his lure, pulling it down, and it turns off. "Goodnight, dear."

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Spider-Man

if you wanna be my lover (you gotta get with my friends) by mindshelter

MJ still remembers Ned’s initial disbelief when Peter—infamous for missing class back in sophomore year, suspended for two weeks freshman year—finished his bit of the group write-up four days early. The work was perfect, and so was Ned's chemistry grade. After that it was Peter this, Peter that, Peter parted the Red Sea, it’s true, MJ, I was there; I saw it. MJ, hey, are you listening?

Then Ned says, “We should invite Peter to join AcaDec.”

or; peter isn’t rock bottom on midtown’s social ladder; he’s underground. friendless, rumoured to get into street fights. ned declares him bestie material anyway, and mj catches feelings.

she also meets tony stark(?) in foodtown, of all places, and makes a spider-man(??) sighting.

M!ik

law of insomnia by thewunderkind

אנחנו נפגשים שוב” "I'm sorry, I do not understand," And then Iruma lowers himself, getting on his knees and bowing until his forehead meets the ground.

Or the one wherein they're soulmates and only Alice is aware of what is happening.

DC

how's it go again? by timdrakesuperspy

Tim Drake's universe is falling apart. He's surprised when he doesn't fall with it, due only to Mr. Mxyzptlk's misplaced feeling of debt. He's even more surprised when the imp crash-land him in the middle of the Wayne family's dinner.

OR: After Tim fails to bring back enough proof that Bruce isn't dead, his life sucks. So of course the universe falls apart. So of course a nosy interdimensional imp decides to intervene and send Tim to a universe unnervingly off from his.

the back corner booth by destiny919

"Hey, Hood," Rhys says seriously. "I've got something for you, but it's a little outside your usual service range."

Jason raises his eyebrows under the helmet. He never gets kids from outside the Alley, if only because they have no way of meeting one of his liaisons, or any reason to trust the Red Hood. "How far outside?"

Rhys smirks. "Not too far. Just Bristol."

Jason really, really hopes his appalled expression is coming through the helmet.

SVSSS

to find an intended (a bit unintentionally) by nyoomerr

It takes about five minutes after they first meet for Shen Yuan to start flirting with Luo Binghe. Aggressively, too, in a way that even some of Luo Binghe’s most frequent bed partners wouldn’t dare to. It’s shocking and infuriating and, unfortunately, Luo Binghe finds himself charmed.

Too bad Shen Yuan doesn’t actually know that his actions come off as demon-flirting in the first place.

Clone Wars

an ill-advised gift by S_C_G

The Senate tries their hand at some regime change in the Mandalore sector.

It doesn't go well.

The Senate tries their hand at sending a gift to better relations and buy some time.

They couldn't have made a worse choice.

Or, the Senate gives the Mand'alor a child. This, quite predictably, backfires.

let me lie with you by MadMothMadame

The War is over. With the Sith conspiracy uncovered, and Sepratists suing for peace, Obi-Wan knew things would not be the same as they were before. Some changes would be for the worse, but when he thought about Cody, and all they had the potential to become now that rank and the weight of war no longer had to stand between them-

Well, some change could only be for the better.

He should have known better.

[alittlerobin]

Roger/Kate

tags: nsfw; oral, face-fucking, intercrural, dacryphilia, rough play word count: 2.3k

She stood outside the door to the lab, wringing her hands into her skirts as she worked up the nerve to go inside. 

Not like it mattered. She couldn’t just turn around and leave, because he’d already know she was there. She knew he always listened to her footsteps, to her heartbeat, knowing exactly when she approached and when she shied away. If she left now, she’d doubtlessly hear him calling out to her, that smooth and cocky voice telling her to stop fretting and get her butt inside. 

Squaring her shoulders, she pressed her hands against the door and pushed it open. There was no point knocking, anyway. Roger sat at his main lab table, his gaze trained on a thick stack of notes. He didn’t react, but he would’ve known she was coming to see him the moment her foot took the first step down into the basement. 

She crossed the room halfway, then stopped, staying out of reach. Except Roger didn’t look at her. He simply kept scribbling on the page, the pencil lead scratching the paper with each quick stroke. 

It was her choice to come here. Her choice to ask him for help. But… come on, couldn’t he catch the hint and let her off easy for once?

She huffed, cheeks puffed out and pouty… and was rewarded with a quiet chuckle.

“Need something, lil lady?”

Yes. She did.

She’d been stressed, frustrated. During the last mission, her mistake had gotten Jude stabbed. And no matter how much Ellis insisted it would’ve happened regardless, it didn’t help. She was definitely better now than when she’d joined Crown, stronger, more sensible, but… it wasn’t enough. She wanted to do more, help more, fight more—and when she failed, it made her angry with herself, with no real outlet for it.

“......I need to cry.”

The pencil dropped. “Oh.”

“But I can’t make myself cry, no matter what I try right now, so…” She kept her gaze down, watching the floor as she spoke, but she heard the scraping of the stool as Roger pushed it back. She didn’t need to look up to know he would be staring at her in anticipation. “...Will you make me cry?”

“And that’s already my reward for helping out, yeah?”

A small smile cracked the corners of her lips. He tried to play it off, but she didn’t need his ability to hear the hitch in his breath. “I’ll remind you that right now, you owe me a favor, not the other way around.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. She didn’t have to wait long. A moment later, his feet were on the floor before her and her chin was being lifted. 

Roger cradled her face in his large hands and stroked a thumb across her cheek. His touch was gentle, almost curious, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. “You wanna be more specific about how I can make you cry?”

She… couldn’t say it out loud. Even if she’d managed to bring herself here, she wasn’t sure if she could string those words together. If she could ask him outright, plead for him to be rough like always, to make it seem like he was taking what he wanted by force when they both knew how down bad they were for each other—even if they refused to bring that dirty little fact out into the open. 

She met his amber gaze straight on, body tense and lips pursed, but her determination unwavering. 

It only took a second for him to smirk and say, “Or do you want me to hazard a guess?”

As if he didn’t already know the answer. “You know... what I like.”

“Yeah, I sure as hell do.”

He didn’t waste time. One arm snaked around her waist, while his other hand jerked her in by the chin as he crashed their mouths together. Any leeway he usually gave her was gone, the sweetness of ill-advised under-the-fireworks kisses forsaken in lieu of teeth pulling on her lower lip and a tongue thrusting into her mouth. 

But that was exactly what she wanted. 

Her fingers curled against his vest, feeling the firm muscle beneath—and she shivered, knowing exactly how it felt to be pinned beneath his strong arms and broad chest, only ever pretending she didn’t want to give him everything. 

One of his hands traveled up her chest, palming one of her breasts and squeezing it. Another deep chuckle rumbled against her mouth, and he shifted his mouth away, pressing his lips to her ear instead. “No corset today? Thought you were a proper, decent woman.”

“Well…” She bit back a whimper as he pinched a nipple, pain sparking with pleasure. “I also know what you like…”

“You sure as hell do.” The echo of their words rolled warm against her ear, making her whole body shiver. His hand kneaded her breasts through the fabric of her blouse and his teeth tugged on her earlobe. She didn’t know how he did it, how he got her so wet so fast, already aching to feel his fingers inside her. 

Only he didn’t hitch up her skirts like he usually did.

Instead, he pushed her down, her skirts barely cushioning her knees as they hit the cold laboratory floor. Maybe she wasn’t good with getting the words out yet, but she could raise her hands, undoing the fastening of his pants as soon as he’d stripped off his belt. 

His cock sprang free, half-hard and already intimidating. His large hand wrapped around the base, giving it a few quick strokes as she parted her lips, tipping up to kiss it. The salt of his precum had barely hit her tongue before his hands were in her hair, twisting into the strands as he fucked into her mouth. 

He was so big and thick it made her jaw ache. His fingers tangled in her hair, gripping roughly, the pull almost there but not enough. Not enough to draw out the tears she wanted to spill. Not until he started to thrust into her mouth, fast and deep, pumping himself down her throat. 

It wasn’t the first time. She’d had him in her mouth before, after a night of a few too many drinks at his favorite pub. That night, he’d carried her up the castle stairs in his arms while she nuzzled her face in the side of his neck, inhaling the scent of beer, medicine, and a musk that was distinctly him. He’d set her down in her bed, but she was the one who’d refused to let go, who fumbled with his clothes and his belt and sucked him into her mouth before he could hiss out a warning. 

Roger had been gentle then, coaxing her with softly muttered encouragements. He’d stroked her hair gently and slid his hand to her throat, instructing her on how to relax it so she could take more and more of him in, until her nose nestled into the dark curls all the way at the hilt. 

But tonight, she didn’t want gentle and he wasn’t giving it to her. Her fingers gripped his thighs, bracing herself as she tried not to choke on each hard snap of his hips, a mist finally building in her eyes. 

Almost there…

That’s what she wanted. For him to use her, to be rough and domineering even while he groaned and muttered, “Good girl, just look at how good you take me. Came down here just to get on your knees and suck my cock like that, looking so blissed out even though I’ve barely touched you.”

Was that how she looked? Lips parted, eyes hazy, a blush burning across her cheeks? Enraptured to have his cock down her throat and his fists full of her hair, her mind and body pleading for anything he’d give her? 

Moaning, her lashes fluttered as she shifted, knowing that if she slid a hand between her thighs he’d just slap it away. She rested herself on the heel of her foot, just to put a bit of pressure against her aching cunt.  

That first night, after she’d swallowed thick ribbons of his cum, Roger had fucked her with four of his fingers, muffling each of her moans with kisses as he brought her to climax again and again. She had barely been able to get out of bed in the morning, body aching and thighs sore, her mind reeling from bad decisions. 

But it had been so good. And so, so, so good every time after. Every mission together, every late night in the lab, every hasty fumble when the stress grew too great and the need too tempting.

She arched her tongue and sucked as best she could as he sank himself deep, hitting the back of her throat with a bruising pace. A moment later, she heard him swear, his fingers leaving her hair as he pulled out. Roger hastily squeezed his fingers around the base of his cock, staving off his orgasm. 

Kate was about to object, to plead for him to cum in her mouth, on her face, whatever he wanted. Instead, he jerked her up to her feet and yanked her around, throwing her facedown onto his table. 

Glass shattered somewhere—perhaps a vial—but neither of them reacted. Roger bent over her, dwarfing her body with his. He flipped up her skirts and dragged down her underwear, rubbing the tip of his hard cock between her dripping wet folds. 

He wouldn’t—she knew he wouldn’t—but her stomach still tightened and her legs quivered as she mewled out a barely audible, “N-no…” 

She didn’t even mean it anymore. It was automatic, the faint protest now only a formality in whatever the hell it was they had going on between them. Because even as she said no, she pushed back against him, helping coat him in the slick nectar dripping down her thighs. 

“You sure?” His mouth was hot against her ear, voice low and deep. His hands took hold of her waist, keeping her bent over the table as he thrust his cock between her thighs. “Because I can hear how fast your heart’s beating right now, and I bet it’d beat even faster if I fucked right inside you. Fucked in nice and deep... Bet you’d like it fast and rough, till those pretty nails of yours carved into the wood cause you didn’t know if you wanna beg me to stop or take you even harder.” 

A moan spilled from her lips, picturing it as she rubbed herself onto him. The fat tip of his cock caught on her entrance, just at the brink. If she tipped herself back, he’d fill her just like he said. She wanted it, wanted to be stretched out on his thick cock, wanted it inside her, scoring her, molding her to its shape. 

“Don’t you want that, Kate?” His fingers tightened on her waist, bruising her skin, and he pushed—but instead of slipping inside, he slid between her folds. Her insides clenched, empty and wanting, practically screaming for him to claim her.

“N-no…”

“You sure? Cause I think you do.” He bucked hard, each thrust made easy by the nectar flowing out of her. His cock rubbed between her folds, catching her clit for a brief second, only enough to tease and drive her crazy. “I think you want me fucking you, filling you up till my cum drips down your thighs. I’d fuck you so good, fuck you till your legs gave out, and then I’d eat it out of you while you soaked my tongue, barely able to remember anything except how to moan my name.”

“Th-that…” Sounded so good. She could picture it, could see how he’d fold her in half and drive himself deep until she screamed his name and begged him to keep going. “Ahh, Roger, p-please—”

“Please what, huh?”

“Please… everything.”

She felt him lean down, brushing his lips across the nape of her neck, and then he forced her legs tighter together, fucking between them at brutal pace. Her hips dug into the edge of the table, pain blending with pleasure, and she gasped when she felt him spilling between her thighs. 

A second later, he’d flipped her over, throwing her legs over his shoulders. He hitched her higher, her spine arching as his mouth went straight to her cunt, two fingers plunging inside along with his tongue. She would’ve thrashed from the pure pleasure if the arm around her waist didn’t hold her steady, pushing her further onto his mouth. He fucked her open and sucked on her clit until she came, gasping and crying and squirting onto his tongue. 

It was so good, so fucking good all she could do was squirm, moaning his name again and again. Tears finally, finally spilled down her cheeks and she sobbed as he kept going. He ate her out, taking her from her first orgasm straight to the second. Her legs trembled, followed by her entire body until the pulses became so strong she had to grab fistfuls of his hair and force him away from her, clenching her legs shut as she shook with rapture. 

Roger handled her so easily, a smirk on his glistening lips as he set her down on the table and wrapped her in his arms. He pulled her close, kissing her mouth, then her face, seeking out his payment. The flat of his tongue swept across her skin, licking up every tear before he pressed two gentle kisses to each of her eyelids. 

"Feeling better?" 

Catching her breath, Kate nodded and draped her arms around his neck. She didn’t bother trying to let the tears stop. Instead, she let them flow freely as she buried her face in his neck and whispered a barely audible plea of, "...Again."

Dividers by @natimiles

[etherealily]

𝟡 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕤 // Nate Jacobs.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Darker. SFW, but discretion advised.

Part 1 : Whiplash

Part 3 : Blessed

Part 4 : Shards

Part 5 : Eighteen

Part 6 : Sin

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : You should be grateful.

════════════════════ ⋆♠️⋆ ════════════════════

He wasn't supposed to text you. He was supposed to take the beating you'd given him for being a prick, like a man, and shut the fuck up about it.

But here you were, midnight, staring at the chat that had started it all.

'yo, u up?'

You rolled your eyes, going back to your scrolling.

'I hate seenzoners.'

You liked his message.

'That's so much worse.'

'The fuck do u want?'

Nate Jacobs sent a voice message.

You could have just ignored it. You could just block him. You could just… stop. But the allure was far too much. The urge of finding out what he wanted was too strong.

"Guess where I am."

He could've just texted that. No need for a voice message, but he was Nate Jacobs.

"I don't know, the psych ward?"

"You wanna know? You'll have to drive and follow my instructions, though. You trust me enough for that?"

Ha. No fucking chance. "No, I'm good, thanks."

"Oh, so you'll text me, but won't see me in person?"

His voice was oddly sultry, as if he'd either just woken up or hadn't slept for days. Most likely the second one.

"Bingo. Go to sleep, Jacobs."

And then he sent you a picture of him from the bleachers of your school's football stadium - how the fuck did he get in?

"C'mon, don't you want to see what our school looks like at night?"

Uh, yes. But with him? No.

"It's 12:05, ASSHOLE. No fucking way."

"This is the scene where you cave and meet me and we have a cute little nighttime school montage where we sit and talk about life."

You listened to that message a good four times before you stopped laughing.

"This is the scene where I block you."

"I will come over if you don't come to the school. Uh, y'know, if you want your parents to think you're fooling around with the QB."

"I will literally shoot you if you come within fifty feet of my house."

"Come. I'll make it worth your while."

Was it possible to hear smirks?

"I'm not coming, Nate."

No way he was actually at the high school. It was probably an insanely good edit.

"You will be."

The FUCK was that supposed to mean? Not like he could force you to show up.

"Wanna bet?"

"Sure. Fifty bucks says you show up to the high school tonight."

"Not blowing fifty bucks on anything, even if I do win."

"What's it going to take for you to come? Look, I-I know it's been weird, and I might've scared you, but that's… that wasn't my intention, I swear."

Yeah, his intention was just to show you what his blood looked like. You liked his message once more, rolling your eyes.

"Dude, seriously, I swear, I'm not like, a serial killer or anything. You can bring pepper spray, a taser, whatever, if it makes you feel better. I'm just- okay, fuck, you're right. Dumb idea, trying to convince you like this."

Wait, okay, good. That was good. He was getting the message.

Another voice message.

"I forgot who I was talking to. You leave me no choice."

"What?" No.

And then, you received a video. He was teetering off the edge of the top-most row of bleachers. With a gun at his head.

"Come on, Y/N, this is getting really sad, that the only way I can grab your attention is by almost killing myself."

"I don't care. Do whatever. Not falling for it this time."

═════════════════════ ⋆♠️⋆ ═══════════════════

"FUCK!", you yelled, as you found yourself running frantically through the school football field for the second time in two weeks.

You'd actually kept your word for a while, pushing out every Nate-related thought for a good night's sleep - you didn't fall for it.

Until McKay called and informed you that Nate wasn't picking up his phone - and that his last message was something along the lines of : 'Call Y/N if you don't hear from me in the next couple of minutes'.

He was deranged. Playing Russian Roulette with his own life was absolutely deranged.

"You actually showed."

GOOD, he was still alive, meaning you could kill him.

You didn't speak. That would simply complicate things, because then you'd have to look at him.

"Plus, you didn't flinch when you saw me. Think that's a win for me in the trust department."

You stood there, glaring at him as he jumped down from the bleachers, even doing that dangerously, as if he was a cat with nine lives, or he was playing a video game and would just respawn.

"You know, you could say something."

He wasn't getting impatient, though, like his tone was trying to portray. No, he was getting more amused. He liked this. He liked the fact that he got you to come to a basically abandoned-for-the-holidays-high school at midnight. He reveled in it.

"Like hey, Nate, thanks for convincing me to actually live a little for a change instead of staying cooped up in my house.", he suggested.

You punched him.

Yeah. You kept running across that field till you were close enough and you punched him right then and there.

You full-on punched him, shoved him back, slapped him, clawed at him. "Stop FUCKING doing this to me! STOP! You can't FUCKING do this to me!", you screamed, hitting him repeatedly on his chest.

He took every beating, and the fact that it seemed he was trying not to laugh just egged you on even more to actually kill him, make his nose bleed, make his head fall clean off his egotistical body.

Eventually, though, it seemed even Nate Jacobs had his limit. He grappled against your hands as he held them between both your chests, clenching his jaw. He wouldn't risk saying anything, seeing as your eyes were already burning with tears.

"You…", you cried out as he shifted his grip on your hands to only one hand, wrapping the other around you. "…Can't keep…"

"Shh, shh, I know.", he muttered as he rested his chin on your head. "Shh, I had to."

"No, you didn't."

He kissed your head, then your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, and stopped for a moment, hovering over your lips but not touching them, as though he was more scared than you were. "You know I did."

You wondered if he could taste the tears, whether he relished it. Knowing what little you did of him, he might have.

"I would've come."

"No, you wouldn't have. Shh." He was right, but there had to be some other way.

"You know what, sweetheart?"

It was sickening how he could do this to you and then use words of endearment against you.

"You should actually be grateful."

And that's when you noticed that he was actually gripping onto your hair, tightening it when your face didn't show any contortion due to pain (only contortion due to unbridled rage and the urge to stab him with your car keys).

"I usually hurt people to get what I want. With you, I'm hurting myself."

You fought the urge to say 'so fucking what?'

"You're not bleeding, baby, that's what you don't get. You're untouched, and safe, and not bleeding. Me, however?"

What was his point? That he was being a gentleman by scaring you half to death instead of having a normal adult conversation?

"I'm bleeding. I'm hurt. I'm in pain. But I'm still holding you."

He said it with exaggerated magnanimity, like he was doing you a favour, or something, like all your problems, trauma, worries, stress, had just disappeared because he was holding you in his 'big strong arms'.

"Then stop!"

"Neither of us wants me to stop holding you."

"I do."

He grinned, knowingly, with a subtle shake of his head. "No, you don't."

"Let me go."

"No."

"Let me go, Nate."

"Fine. Because you called me Nate and not Jacobs.", he nodded, letting go of you and throwing up his arms. "Don't hit me again."

"Was McKay in on this?"

He frowned momentarily, before realization swept over his face. "Shit. Yeah, no, he wasn't. I should text him, huh?"

Oh, now he was asking if he should be a courteous human being?

You watched him loathingly, as he typed out what you guessed was a half-assed apology.

'Sorry, McKay, I'm good, man. Chicks, y'know?' or some absolutely fucked up shit like that, to be sure.

"Done. Now, will you stop being so square and enjoy the fact that you're here at school at midnight?"

"What?" Enjoy?

"I'll bet this is your first time out at midnight period, let alone your first time out at midnight somewhere you're not legally supposed to be."

"Why am I here?"

The condescending look he gave you set your teeth on edge. 'Oh, poor, naive girl. Of course she doesn't even know why she's here. This is why I told her to stay in my grasp. She never listens.'

FUCKING ASSHOLE.

"You're my good luck charm. My good luck charm, but I heard you're fucking Shane. You can't be doing that."

The softness in his movements, the gentleness, it had either completely stopped, or entirely overshadowed the fact that he had put you through yet another nerve-wracking event that would raise your blood pressure.

Shane who, Shane who, Shane- oh. Shane.

Not so much fucking as went on one date with, but it was better for everyone if Nate thought you had already gone that far.

"Why not?"

"He's a punk."

"You're one to talk."

"Look, he plays defense. What if you're just, like, intensely fortunate? Can't have him sneak in a quickie before the game and then he's lucky."

It's like he wanted you to punch him again.

"He's on your team. You'll win anyway."

He shrugged, as though he could see where you were coming from, but was about to respectfully absolutely ruin your argument.

"I like to win."

"Not a team player, are you?"

"Never claimed to be."

══════════════════════ ⋆♠️⋆ ═══════════════════

He was so clearly getting frustrated with your lack of response - the initial dopamine and thrill of being a disgusting element of surprise by shooting/not-shooting himself in the head gone.

But what could you say?

You'd already ghosted Shane after the date had tanked, so technically there was no reason for you to still be here. The chances of a 'lucky quickie' were virtually zero.

And so, you just stood there, the two of you, with inexplicable rage pooling within.

Your senses were heightened, your emotions wilder than the crazed look in your eyes as he stood there, looking down at you like an adult looking down at their childhood toy. As if you were the naivest, most precious, pathetically adorable thing he owned, reminding him of a simpler time.

At this point, even a rabbit's foot had been treated with more respect than you.

And you hated every moment of it because it was thrusted upon you, just like the silence of the eerie, void-like field you two were in.

"Why are you like this, Y/N?", he groaned, with the nerve to sound tired.

You? Why were you like this? What about him?

"You're… so cold." His hands flexed as if they were about to move from your hair to your throat. "Just… let loose, please. You're the reason I'm winning, I'd at least like to get to know you!"

"Oh, so this is like, an interview? Is she good enough to be associated with me? You think you're hot shit? Dude, I- you gotta realize how fucked up all of this is."

You were practically pleading. Acknowledge your absurdity, Nate Jacobs, please.

"Hey, whoa, look, you chose to associate yourself with me. Not my problem, ok?", he spat back, clearly happy with the return of banter.

"I didn't choose any of this!"

"You requested to follow me after I followed you. You chose not to block me after I followed you."

"You're putting this all on me?"

That's what normal people do ; they follow people back! He was grasping at straws, but it still seemed as though he had an iron grip on them.

"There wouldn't have been a first time if you didn't care so goddamn much." Like he was mocking you. You almost screamed. You almost hit him. He was so nonchalant.

But that… rang true. However, the humanitarian in you was adamant that there was absolutely no one cold enough to shrug off a video of someone slicing so effortlessly into their palm and exposing their blood so unabashedly.

Well, except Nate Jacobs himself.

"But, y'know what, Y/N?", he said, clearing his throat, matter-of-factly. "That's all in the past. Because now, now, we're going to sort out this arrangement between us and everything will go back to normal."

Normal? Normal as in, both of you go back to being strangers? Unlikely.

"Arrangement?"

"How this thing is going to go. Before every game, you fist-bump me. You don't touch any other players whatsoever, Blackhawk or otherwise."

Great, he was policing who you could fist-bump now.

"I- you brought me here at midnight for this?"

"Uh, no, I brought you here at midnight for fun.", he replied, scoffing. "But since you wanted to be all violent and physical, I thought we should stick to business."

Did he mean to be this insufferable? Was it a bit? There was no way an actual human being could act like this, yes? There was no way anyone could think that this was a justifiable response to a genuine question. Right?

At this point, you didn't know anymore.

Nate Jacobs had officially stumped you.

"If I say okay, can I leave?"

"No, you cannot leave, but you definitely can go sit over there and think about your little attitude before I bring out the tequila."

He burst out laughing at your annoyed face, slinging a heavy arm around your shoulder in an oddly possessive display of 'familiarity'.

"Relax. Loosen up, like I said, and you'll be fine.", he snorted, and that was your only indication that he did not, in fact, actually wish to put you into time-out.

The insane man with a gun had a sense of humour, apparently.

"You brought tequila?"

"I told you, the whole point of tonight was fun and getting to know the reason I'm winning better. So, sit."

You sat, still glaring up at him. You must have looked absolutely fucking cute or something, because he pouted at you before reaching into a duffle bag you hadn't noticed before and whipping out two bottles of straight tequila.

"Body shots?"

"Jacobs…"

"I'm joking, I'm joking. You'll come around soon, though. They all do."

Great. That's brilliant. You'd been reduced from a stranger, to a bitch, to a joke, to now a stereotype. This was just spectacular.

"Why me?"

That question seemed to genuinely catch him off-guard.

Good. Now he knows what this past week with him has been like.

"Hm?'

"Why me? Why am I the good luck charm?"

"I don't know."

"You could just be a really good player. You don't know, you haven't gone a single game without it, so you assume you're winning because of it."

"The third game was the one you weren't there for. You must remember hearing about it, though? Most embarrassing game for East Highland, I swear. 34-nil? That was shameful. That's why I decided, fourth game onwards, I wouldn't have to risk it because I got you."

Shit. That actually made sense.

"Okay, now you tell me.", he began, slightly turning the bottle in his hand around and examining the contents, curiously. "Shane Crestin? Seriously?"

"What?"

He scoff-snickered, taking an impressively large gulp before answering. "Y/N, the guy's a tool."

Look who's talking.

"He asked me out after the game."

"So, he knows you're my good luck charm.", he said, quietly, like a king trying to figure out where his men's loyalties lay.

Did Julius Caesar have a girl who he gaslit in order to get her to watch him in battle because of superstition? If so, she'd have been the first to stab him.

"Of course he knows, you made a huge spectacle of it that first time."

"Oh, yeah. But still, what a bastard. Trying to steal my lucky girl and her luck like that."

You needed to do a lobotomy on this man, seriously.

It wasn't even like you could ask him what the hell that meant because that would just bring him immense amounts of joy.

"You're not drinking. Why?", he inquired, opening the second bottle and forcing it to your lips.

You frowned as you held onto it. "I don't drink."

"Oh, bullshit. Come on, drink, don't be a nerd."

"I said no, okay?"

"Wait, do you not want to drink around me?"

He was really going above and beyond to break the 'dumb jock' stereotype, wasn't he?

"I can't believe it.", he continued, leaning back on the bleachers as he watched your face. "After all this, you don't trust me."

After all this, he said, as if he had spent his entire life working solely for your benefit. Like a tired mentor.

"I mean, dude, this is like… such a bitch move, you know that? I'm just trying to be nice."

"I don't know what you want me to do, Nate."

"Uh, trust me? Thought we were cool now, Y/N. You think I'm going to get you blackout drunk then have my way with you? Rape you? Are you scared to be around me? At midnight? In a quiet, empty football stadium where no one would think to look for you?", he questioned, still holding your gaze as he lifted his bottle to his mouth.

The elaboration of that statement unnerved you.

"I don't think you're going to rape me, I'm just-"

"Just scared of the possibility?"

"Don't take it personal, but-"

"There's no other way to take it. You're all but accusing me of assault. I thought you were different."

Was that meant to make you melt? 'Oh, no, I'm just like everyone else in that I don't want to end up in a ditch somewhere, the horror!'

"Maybe I'm not.", you shrugged.

"But you came. Tonight. No one else would have. So maybe you're a judgmental bitch like everyone else, but you've at least got your stupidly huge heart going for you."

If you strained your ears, that almost sounded like a compliment.

"Uh, thanks?"

"Drink, Y/N. Please."

Oh, fuck it. You needed that goddamn tequila to shoot through you with a vengeance.

"There we go.", he mumbled, watching you. "Dude, look at you."

"Hm?"

"You're finally badass."

His eyes lit up as he saw your finger enter the scene. He chuckled for a moment. "I'm being serious. I mean, you've beaten me up, what, three times so far - once in front of the entire school - and now you're doing underage shots with me at night at school, which is like, two illegal things at the same time."

See, that's where the difference between the two of you lay.

He thought that was being a badass.

You thought that was being a dumbass.

══════════════════════ ⋆♠️⋆ ═══════════════════

"…So yeah. That's why I joined football, basically. Made me feel, like, stronger and more in control, I guess."

This asshole had just told the most human story, and now you had to see him as a person. The cunt.

You watched as he stood in the middle of the field, aiming and shooting at the banners that were strewn up all around the field.

God, he was so fucking terrifying.

How does he play Russian Roulette to bait you into coming one minute and then reload and shoot at banners like a child with his first Nerf the next?

"Control. Yeah, that tracks."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You want everything to go your way. You get pissed when other people do things of their own will."

"Can't argue with that.", he shrugged, as he turned his back to you and shot another banner, impressively shooting right in the centre of the 'O' in a 'GO BLACKHAWKS!' sign. "You know how to shoot?"

"No."

"You should learn."

"I'll get right on that.", you scoffed, as you observed your tequila bottle intensely, ignoring him coming back to rest his feet on the bleachers from your peripheral vision.

"Open your mouth."

"What?"

"Humour me."

"I've humoured you enough tonight."

"Please? Pretty please?"

You rolled your eyes, but opened your mouth. You had no idea what you expected, but it sure as hell was not him stuffing the barrel of his gun in there. You suddenly felt the tequila evaporating from your bloodstream as he slapped your hands away after you tried taking it out, like anyone would. Shit, it hurt. FUCK.

"Just relax.", he whispered, so soothingly that he might as well have been talking you through a panic attack. "There's nothing to be scared of."

Besides the hot gun you've got basically lodged up my throat.

Suddenly, the amount of danger you really were in began to materialize in your head. He was right. It was midnight. It was spring break. It was at high school. No one would think to look for you there.

"Are you scared?"

Oh, God. He was one of those freaks who got off on these things.

You nodded, not really knowing what else to do.

"You think I'll shoot you?"

You shook your head.

"Kill you?"

You shook your head.

"Then why are you scared?"

Honestly, it was the fact that he wasn't going to do either of those things, and decided to shove a gun down your throat simply for shits and giggles.

"You need more tequila."

WHAT?

You frowned, but nodded. Anything to get the gun out of your mouth.

He poured it straight from the bottle into your mouth, watching with sick satisfaction as you swallowed, and you realized that he was psychotically drunk.

"How's that? I do it all the time, y'know? Hot metal plus cold tequila equals the best fucking night ever."

Um, ew. No. But that would be super unwise to say.

"You shove a gun down your throat then take a shot?"

"One of my more dangerous drinking games, yes. God, dude, look at you. Like, you're so fucking uptight, loosen THE FUCK up!"

You were unsure how much 'looser' you could get - you were already going along with his 'dangerous drinking game'.

"I am!"

"Not enough. Not even close. You need more."

"We're all out.", you said, (thankfully) pointing at the empty duffle bag next to him.

"Oh.", he sighed, slumping down next to you and using the duffle bag as a pillow. "Just- I don't get it. What is it about you?"

"That makes you get suicidal?"

He snorted, softly. "That makes me so mad?"

"You're mad?"

"Not like angry-mad. I mean like… crazy-mad. Like I go mad around you."

Five-year-olds could explain things better than him, but, to his credit, he was shitfaced.

"Really? Thought you were born that way."

"I mean, last week? When I kissed you? I don't do that shit. But it was the only way to shut you up. I-ugh. It's you, Y/N. Just fucking up my brain, one game at a time."

"Oh, oh, so you being a psychopath is because I didn't show up to one game?"

"When you're constantly worried about someone needing to be there, you do crazy things. Like cut yourself. I would have done it, too, seriously."

"I know. That's why I came."

"So, we weren't entirely strangers, huh? You knew me a little, at least?"

"Uh, no, we were definitely strangers."

"Now? What are we now?"

"Uh… friends?" You didn't mean that. You wouldn't be his friend if it killed you.

"No, I think I'd know it if we were friends." Phew.

"So, you tell me."

"What? No, you've been in charge this whole time, you tell me."

He just said you'd been in charge.

One offhanded, sweeping statement, and he'd shifted all the blame on you as easy as pie.

How did he do that?

It was obvious what he was referring to: the fact that none of these interactions would have happened if you just hadn't given a shit in the first place.

The fact that every single move of his had been linked to you, in whatever this weird everybody (except you) ante, sketchy poker game he was playing was supposed to be.

And it unnerved you.

Because in some twisted way, it was true.

"Acquaintances."

"But we've kissed.", he reminded, diligently and unwantedly. "Acquaintances - and classmates, before you suggest that - don't just kiss."

"Dude, then what do you want to be?"

Shit. That was what he'd wanted all along. For you to ask in exasperation, to give you his interpretation.

"You know, just… an average relationship between a man and his good luck charm." He inched closer, his hand loosening its grip on the railing as if it was going to do something, but there was no more tequila to reach out for.

There was only you.

And reach, he did.

First, his hands were on your cheek, like they had been a half hour ago. Then, suddenly, they were in your hair, and his tongue was trying to coax your words out of you directly from the source.

And you just let it happen.

If anyone knew why you let it happen, you'd have loved to start a suggestion box.

But you had a funny feeling that the only person who knew why was Nate Jacobs himself.

Fat chance he'd tell you.

[farfromharry]

In another life | Eddie Munson fic

Summary: Eddie bumps his head after a fight with you and experiences two separate dreams of what his life could be like if things with you were different. When he wakes up back in your arms afterwards, he learns to appreciate what he has.

Word count - 6620

Warnings - a little angst ig, mentions of injury

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

One of your favorite parts of the Christmas season was all the celebrating that came with it. The movies, the snacks, the hot drinks to keep you warm in the cold weather. All of it. That paired with the joy of having someone you adored to spend it with, made your entire month perfect. 

Only, this year you didn’t get to share them as much as you would like with your boyfriend. Instead, you spent a lot of time with his Uncle while Eddie worked. He would usually join you when he got home in the evenings, cuddle you on the couch while a movie played on the TV, sometimes even falling asleep on you from such a long day. Even though it wasn’t exactly what you were craving, you still cherished that he wanted to be close to you and spend any spare time he had with you. 

You thought today would be just like that. Mugs of hot chocolate were on the coffee table, one waiting and ready for him when he got back. Gremlins played on the TV in front of you and Wayne, the two of you entranced in the cliché story. You heard the front door open, what with the faulty lock that made it so difficult to pry open, but you didn’t hear the sigh he let out as he tried to pull off his heavy boots. 

“Hey, missed you today. Do you wanna join us?” you asked, kindly, flashing him a smile over the back of the couch. 

He shook his head, struggling with the laces on his shoes that he couldn't seem to undo. With a huff, he gave up, deciding he’d ask you for help or something. “Not tonight. Just want to take a hot shower and then go straight to bed. ‘M tired.” You could hear the exhaustion in his tone and all you wanted to do was bring him into your arms and make him feel better. 

You frowned. “You could still do that, but you could sleep here. Just spend time with us, y’know. Haven’t seen you all day.” It felt like you hadn’t seen him a lot at all actually recently. 

It was an innocent enough request. You hadn’t meant anything by it, but he did take it to heart. It felt like a criticism from you and he was far too tired to listen to you tell him all the different things he should do to make himself better. “Can you get off my back? I said no,” he snapped, practically hissing at you. 

Both yours and Wayne’s eyes widened immensely. Eddie had almost never spoken to you this way, and you had no idea why he was starting to. “What?” you asked, chuckling a little bit at the confusion you felt. 

He didn’t seem to find it funny at all. He ignored you, back to fighting with the laces that kept his boots tightly secured to his feet. By the second he was growing more and more frustrated, and it was due to the fact he’d had such a long day and now when he was supposed to be able to finally relax, things were piling up again that were getting him heated. Why wouldn’t the shoes just come off? What kind of witchcraft was keeping them on his feet? He was positive he had never once struggled this much with a pair of dumb shoes. And why did you have this sudden need to cling to him when he didn’t want you to?

“Eddie, calm down,” Wayne advised. He knew it wouldn’t go well if he started a fight over something so dumb. 

It didn’t seem like he planned on taking the advice that was offered to him, instead he was going to make the situation a thousand times worse. “I said, get off my back. I don’t want to watch the stupid movie!” 

A quiet gasp tumbled out of your mouth at the bluntness. “Eddie, it was just a suggestion. There’s no need to–” You were going to say something about how there was no need to blow up or overreact, but you thought your choice of words might be poor. Knowing your luck, it would only serve to make him even more angry. 

He was looking at you with nothing but rage in his gaze. “There’s no need to, what?”

The more he acted rudely towards you, the less you worried about protecting his feelings. If he wanted to be an asshole then you weren’t going to coddle him by any means, you’d let him, and you wouldn’t hold back when it came to giving him the same sort of attitude. It wasn’t like you were in the wrong here, you hadn’t even done anything. “There’s no need to yell at me like a complete dick!”

“Excuse me?”

Neither of you had noticed how Wayne was looking between the two of you, shifting uncomfortably. At first he thought this would just blow over. Maybe Eddie would apologize for snapping, or you would just give up on trying to fight with him, and at that point he’d shrunk into the couch and made himself as small as possible. But then no one stopped, you both kept shouting back at one another. That was when he knew he had to leave– when it became too uncomfortable to bear. 

“I’ll be… in the other room,” the older Munson excused himself, shooting the two of you one final nervous glance before he took his mug of coffee and left you to it. 

Wayne tried not to bother himself with your fights when an argument would occur. You were young, and in love, but that didn’t mean you were going to agree on everything all the time. It was none of his business when the two of you would yell at each other over something dumb, even if it was happening in the middle of his living room. He would always lock  himself away in his room, or even leave until the two of you were done and happy to make up. There had rarely been an occasion where he thought he might need to step in. His nephew would never hurt you. But today he’d seemed to be in a foul mood and he was a little more concerned than normal, his hand hovering over the doorknob just in case.

“Look what you did. You made Wayne uncomfortable,” you pointed out. He scoffed, loudly enough that Wayne actually heard it in the other room. 

“Oh, I did that? Not you and your incessant nagging?” 

His words cut deep, and you wanted nothing more than to knock some sense into him so he’d drop the attitude. He’d already scared off Wayne, he didn’t really need to be making the situation any worse for himself. If he was smart in any way, he would apologize now and the two of you could move on like nothing happened. 

“If you want to turn this into a big fight because you’re angry at the world or whatever, then we can. But I’d recommend apologizing while you still can, you ass.” That should have been his sign, but for some reason his thoughts were clouded and he didn’t notice. 

“What is your problem? Have you been holding all this anger back, just waiting for a moment to yell at me or something?” he hissed. 

You grumbled. It wasn’t like you could’ve snapped if you wanted anytime soon, he was never home. “You’re avoiding me lately anyway, asshole,” you said. There had been a lot more late nights than usual lately, and it scared you. You hadn’t ever thought Eddie would be the kind of guy to cheat on you, but the thought was crossing your mind more and more as the days passed. It felt like you’d barely seen him these last few weeks. “You’re always working. If you are actually where you say you are.”

There was an eye roll, a scoff and then he was taking off. Your eyes widened, watching in disbelief as he approached the front door of the trailer. He didn’t even hesitate to throw it open, not looking back at you as he descended the steps. 

“Where are you going?” you hissed. “Are you really just gonna walk away rather than talk about this?” You thought he was being childish. He had come home and started the fight with you in the first place, and now he wasn’t enough of a grown up to talk it out with you so you could get to the bottom of it? It was incredibly frustrating.

You followed him to the door, watching as he took off, ignoring his van like he was going to walk to wherever he was going. 

Eddie was in such a haste that he hadn’t noticed the ice covering the floor. When coming into the house, only from his van, it was easy to avoid, but now that he was going further, out into the open part of the trailer park with no destination in mind, it wasn’t so easily avoidable. 

His feet went out from under him when they came in contact with the slippery floor. You gasped at the sight, watching as he landed flat on his back, head coming in contact with the floor under him– hard. That had to at least be a concussion. “Oh, my god. Eddie!” 

»»——⍟——««

Eddie had no idea how he ended up outside the Harrington home. The last he remembered, he was just leaving the trailer, you in tow yelling at him to come back, but you were nowhere to be seen, and nothing explained why he didn’t remember the journey of getting there. The sound of a female voice startled him, as well as the hand on his arm. It was definitely not your voice. 

“You ready to go in, honey?” she asked. 

His eyes bulged when they landed on Nancy Wheeler, clinging to him like she wasn’t completely disgusted by his presence all of a sudden. He was painfully confused. “What? Nancy?” He was looking at her like she was crazy, and it made her laugh. 

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay, honey?” He hated that she kept calling him that. She raised her hand, setting her palm on his forehead to check if he had a fever. “No fever. Did you hit your head or something?”

“I’m fine.” He tried to brush off her touch, not wanting you to appear and find her clinging to him like this. It seemed if anyone had bumped their head it was her, not him. Never in his life had she even spoken this many words to him, or looked at him for so long in one sitting. He didn’t know what alternate universe he was suddenly in, but he didn’t like it one bit. She just rolled her eyes at his odd behavior, deciding to keep her hands to herself if he was in a weird mood. “Come on, they’re waiting for us.” 

His feet kicked into gear before his brain did. He hadn’t even realized they were moving at first, but then the red door of the home was growing closer to him.

A fake smile was plastered on Nancy’s annoyed face as the door was pulled open by Steve. He was grinning, and he looked happier than Eddie had ever seen him. He invited the pair in, greeting him like they were the oldest of friends. He was even pulled into a hug by Harrington, which was far from their usual dynamic. By now there would have been at least three insults thrown either way in normal circumstances. It was horrible. 

“We’re so glad you guys could make it.”

He led the pair inside to the table, and Nancy grumbled under her breath when Eddie didn’t pull her chair out for her. He didn’t think he had ever done that for anyone, he might like to think he was a gentleman, but that was something he’d never considered. 

The two sat side by side, as Steve bustled around trying to pour drinks for them both. Eddie was still waiting in anticipation for the arrival of the other mentioned person of the Harrington household. Other than Nancy– who was apparently involved with Eddie– he had no idea of another person his friend had ever been truly interested in. It was driving him crazy to try and work it out. 

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long though, for Steve called for his lover, who came wandering out of the kitchen with a bowl of food in hand. Whatever it was, it smelled good. 

He gasped at the sight of you, dressed in the ugliest Christmas sweater he’d ever seen, and a long hideously colored skirt that you would usually fake a gag at when shopping. There was an apron thrown over the top of your clothes, and if he looked close enough, he could see a bump that wasn’t usually there. 

He almost choked on his drink, which earned him some weird looks. 

“You okay, Eddie?” you asked, grinning at Steve as he peeled the apron from your figure. He muttered something about you being silly and forgetful and it made the metalhead sick to watch. Never in his life had he wanted to see you so in love with another person. 

There were many things he could have said, should have said. There were also a lot of things he wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure if he could. This whole thing felt like a big, cruel prank, but he couldn’t fathom why any of you would do such a thing to him. Unfortunately, the only thing he could think of was probably the dumbest thing possible. “You’re pregnant?” he blubbered. 

Kids were something you and he– well not this you, but you you– had talked about before. It wasn’t always a frequent topic of conversation, what with considering the two of you lived in a trailer with his uncle and definitely didn’t make enough money (even combined) to raise a child. Seeing you pregnant felt a little like an out of body experience. 

He watched as you grew a little embarrassed, incredibly familiar with the look by now. But the look on Steve’s face was nothing but pure joy. He reached his hand over to your midsection, cupping the small bump and beaming. “We were gonna tell you guys tonight. Didn’t think you’d notice.” Apparently he hadn’t realized how painfully obvious it was. 

“Congratulations,” Nancy gushed. 

After the supposed ‘good’ news, the dinner started as normal. The three ate while Eddie just uncomfortably stared at them, trying to figure out what alternate universe he’d been transported to. No one noticed for a while, just continuing on with normal conversation about the pregnancy and baby stuff that he really didn’t want to be involved in. The way the woman beside him kept referring to him and their everyday lives like this wasn’t the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him, it was only serving to make him more uncomfortable. 

He barely realized when the conversation had been shifted to a topic about him. “So, Eddie, how’s your Uncle?”

His face contorted into one of confusion, his head cocking to the side a little as he looked at Harrington– well he guessed you were somehow both Harringtons if that large ring on your finger had anything to say about it. “My Uncle? Wayne?”

Nancy placed a hand over his, trying to lace her fingers with his. He didn’t want her too though, shooting her a look as he tried to pull it away. She glared, gritting her teeth as though it would stop Eddie from acting like a child in front of their friends. As soon as he gave up, slumping down in his seat, she plastered a false look of sympathy on her face. He was honestly shocked how quickly she could fake emotion like that. And it made him realize that whatever she was about to say about Wayne, she didn’t feel as sad about it as she was making out. 

“He’s taken a turn for the worse. We don’t know if he’ll make it to Christmas day,” she explained. 

Eddie’s eyes widened, head snapping her way. “What? What are you talking about!”

She spared him a glance, pouting her lips. “He’s not taking the news too well.”

This was the metalhead’s worst fear. He couldn’t take this fake lovey dovey, happy family act anymore. He didn’t know what this was, but it was far from funny by now. His hands came down onto the table, standing up from his seat like he was about to make a statement. All eyes shot to him, conversation stopping amongst the three. Eddie began to feel uncomfortable knowing he’d created a scene, but there was no stopping now, he had to speak his mind. “What is going on here?”

His girlfriend or whatever the Wheeler girl was supposed to be, gasped at this. “What is going on with you? Everything’s fine,” Nancy said, embarrassed by his display. She hated that he seemed to be acting out like this, he was really ruining the image they created for themselves in front of the most put together couple they knew. She had no idea how they were supposed to come back from this little breakdown of his. 

“It’s not fine!” he insisted, raising his voice. “None of this is real! It-it’s some kind of sick joke.” By the minute he was growing more and more frustrated. 

His distress was only trebled when you began to show him the care he was so used to seeing. You reached over the table, setting your hand over his in the hopes it may bring him a little bit of comfort. It didn’t, it actually only made him feel a hell of a lot worse. “Maybe you should go lie down or something,” you advised.

He shook his head. “No, I’m not gonna lay down, I need you to tell me what the hell is going on,” he groaned, bringing his hands up to pull at his hair. 

“Eddie, you need to calm down, you’re going to–” You didn’t get the opportunity to finish your sentence before the man started feeling dizzy. He reached his hand out to hold onto something so that he wouldn’t fall, but it didn’t help as much as he’d wished it would. Within seconds he was stumbling and landing on the floor for the second time that day, hitting his head on something on the ground. He found himself unable to focus on all the faces that appeared in his cloudy line of sight. But the last thing he remembered seeing was a look of concern on your features as you called his name.

»»——⍟——««

The next time Eddie woke up, he was terrified of the idea that he was still in the same awful situation. But as he looked around, he noticed the small signs of this being his room– just a hell of a lot tidier. He was relieved to be out of the nightmare that was being married to Nancy Wheeler, while watching the love of his life be all lovey dovey with Steve Harrinton. It was very literally torture; he couldn’t think of anything worse. He had no idea why his brain thought of such a thing, or had to impose it in his thoughts. 

He was slow when pushing himself into a sitting position in his bed, worried that the two occasions where he’d hit his head might have made him a little dizzy. He didn’t want to make anything worse than it was, or be taken back to that awful dream. “Y/N?” he called, quietly, testing the waters to make sure you were actually here. 

There were the sounds of feet padding towards the bedroom, and he let out such a large sigh of relief when he saw that you were standing in the doorway with a smile on your face. There was something different about you still– and he was so confused as to why you weren’t angry with him after the fight– but he was just happy to see you more than anything. “Morning, sleepyhead,” you greeted. 

“I am so glad to see you,” he gushed, laughing quietly as he opened his arms to beckon you over. The grin on your face was wide and made his chest feel all warm and fuzzy. 

You didn’t waste any time, happy to find yourself tucked into his side comfortably. This was a warmer greeting than you were expecting to receive, but you weren’t planning on arguing about it. “You practically passed out when you got home yesterday,” you said, trying to untangle some of the knots that had accumulated in his hair while he slept– that was the first sign to Eddie that something was wrong. His hair wasn’t all in his face like usual, and your hands remained on top of his head rather than following his curls down his shoulders. “So, there’s a couple people who’d like to see you.”

You called a ‘come on’ and then the door was being pushed open and someone else was entering. Another couple sets of feet were not what he was expecting. He thought maybe you’d gotten a dog or something that he just couldn’t remember. He was positive he would have remembered having two kids though– even their faces (though a clear perfect mix of you and him) were unfamiliar to him. 

The two climbed onto the bed, calling for him and throwing their arms around him. Despite his confusion, he didn’t want to make them feel bad, so he hugged them back tightly. They seemed comfortable in his arms, especially the little one who was curled into him.

“Lisa had something she wanted to ask,” you told him, twirling the girl’s curly hair around your fingers.

Okay, so Lisa was the taller one, the one he was assuming was older. He couldn’t say he was a fan of the name, he didn’t know where it had come from, but in all your talks about kids that had never come up. He liked the idea of more fun and ‘cool’ names. Lisa just wasn’t an Eddie sort of name.

“Will you come and build a snowman outside with me and Maggie before dinner?” she was asking so shyly, like there was a large chance of him saying no than saying yes. He couldn’t actually imagine a world where he’d say no— even if he was apparently in it— he used to love building snowmen with Wayne as a little boy.

So the other one was Maggie. For a second his brow furrowed, was this the fucking Simpsons or something?

He looked between the two sets of puppy eyes, same as his own, and he knew he couldn’t say no. “Yeah, of course.”

The two squealed, running out of the run, no doubt to throw their warm winter clothes on for the snow. You turned to him with a bright grin, thanking him for doing it for them. It was that that made him believe he didn’t do it a lot from your perspective, and it made his heart sink to think he wasn’t the husband he always promised you he would be one day. If this was the path your life was going to take, then something must go really wrong at some point. He hated the idea of something taking a turn for the worst and ruining your relationship.

Your voice snapped him out of all those bad thoughts. “You need to get up Mr Lazy, we have family coming,” you told him. It was supposed to be a reminder, but considering he didn’t know anything right now, it was news to him. 

“We do?”

“Yeah. They always come on Christmas eve. You have the memory of a goldfish I swear.” 

He grumbled a little, at the idea of having to fake a smile and personality that wasn’t his all night, but nonetheless climbed out of the warm bed. It must be new, or at least not his old one, because it felt so much more comfortable than normal.

It’d been while he was passing the mirror on the way to his closet that he caught sight of his hair, and it spurred a feeling of distress in his chest. “My hair!” he whined, refusing to tear his eyes away from the sight of it in the mirror. “What happened to it?”

You chuckled, finding it amusing that he was genuinely horrified. “It’s just tangled. Run your fingers through it for a while, sweetheart. It’ll be fine.”

“No. My long hair. Where’d it go?”

Now was your turn to look slightly horrified. It was the first time he’d looked away from himself in the mirror since first glancing its way as he got out of bed. He didn’t know why you looked so disgusted. “We cut it off years ago Ed. You decided it was immature and too much of a hassle.”

He had said the latter before, but the only issue was that he never actually meant it. He loved his hair, more than so many things in his life and even if he got frustrated with it sometimes, he would never cut it off. He found it hard to believe that he would ever be boring or lazy enough to actually go through with cutting it off like he always claimed he was going to. “Oh. Yeah, silly me.” He had to try and play it off like he knew, so you didn’t think he was up to something. 

Apparently you didn’t know him well enough to be able to tell that he was acting all weird. 

This weird behavior continued all day long and it took you a while to realize that something was going on with him. He wasn’t reciprocating anything like usual, not your love or the kids’. You’d yet to ask him about it, wondering if he’d just had an off day or woken up on the wrong side of the bed or something. If it hadn’t changed by tomorrow then you’d definitely have to ask what his problem was, this wasn’t exactly in the Christmas spirit. You’d at least hoped by the time dinner rolled around he would be a little less strange. You didn’t want your guests to be weirded out by his behavior.

He, with the help of your eldest kid, who he’d learned through some very sneaky questions to be seven, was setting the table while you made dinner. He was happy to help, and tend to the other child, the five year old, whenever she needed it. 

You’d pop in every now and then to talk, but it was never anything important, not until just before your guests were due to arrive. “Oh, before I forget, Dustin called and said he couldn’t make it,” you informed him. “I-If I’m being completely honest, I sort of expected it. It’s not like he ever even tries to make it when we make plans with him.”

He didn’t have a single idea of what you were talking about. Dustin was always on time or showing up hours early to plans, whether he was the one to make them or not. The kid used to beat him to Hellfire sometimes. “What do you mean? Why would he not come?”

“Well, after everything that happened with Steve–”

He cut you off, with a little bit of urgency. “Wh-What happened with Steve?”

Your eyes flickered to his face, trying to gauge if he was serious. “Gosh Ed, did you hit your head or something, sweetheart?” you joked, throwing your arms around his neck. He’d never been so hesitant to touch you before. Usually, affection came easy to the two of you, but this didn’t feel right to him. “Steve, he-he didn’t make it out of the thing with the bats– back in eighty-six.”

He was under the impression that it was still eighty-six. It had never crossed his mind that it might be a different year. But he was struggling to come up with a way to ask you what year it was without finally pushing you over the edge of being suspicious to demanding to know what was wrong. “Right, yeah. That must be– How many years ago now?”

“Almost twelve years now,” you frowned. Nineteen-ninety seven, the thought of that was crazy. How could he have missed eleven years of his own life– especially when so much happened.

“Wow,” he muttered, letting you slip out of his grasp to head back to the kitchen so your food didn’t burn. Meanwhile Eddie needed to welcome the few guests that had knocked on your door. They only consisted of Wayne– who he was glad to see was doing well this time around– and his mom? He hadn’t seen the woman in many years, since he was a kid and she left him and his dad. He had no idea what she was doing here and he didn’t know how he was supposed to fake a reaction to that.

He hadn’t realized that he’d just been standing there staring, but the longer he did stand there, the more he noticed about them. The two looked happier than he’d ever seen them, and Wayne definitely had a hand on the woman’s back. Were they a couple?

You must have realized that they hadn’t been invited into your cozy trailer yet, making your way to the door where Eddie stood gaping at them like an idiot. “Sweetheart, you not gonna invite your poor parents in out of the cold?”

Parents. That word continued to ring through his mind as he stepped out of the way so they could come in. They immediately rushed for the children, the two babies happy to see them. His movements were sluggish as he closed the door behind them, watching what he thought was a sweet reuniting moment. The kids seemed so happy to see Wayne– and his mom, which told him she must come around often. 

For the first part of dinner Eddie stayed quiet. He listened mainly, trying not to get too lost in his own head. But he thought if he listened, maybe he could get some sort of clue what the fuck was going on. 

“So, how are my grandbabies?”

Wayne’s question sent Lisa into a whole spiel about math at her school. She sounded as though she really loved it– like almost as much as he loved D&D– and he really didn’t understand how this could be his child. He was a nerd, for sure he could admit that, but he wasn’t that level of nerd. 

Eddie had never felt so soulless while sitting there at the dinner table, listening to the small child ramble on about things he couldn’t care less about. Maybe it was a horrible thing to say, especially if this was his life and these were the kids he’d helped bring into the world– but he just didn’t understand when things got so boring. You and he used to have so much fun, your similar personalities meaning you were always on the same page about so much stuff, how the hell did you become so stiff and boring after having kids, and why were they the same way? Oh no, was he the same way?

“Ed, you alright, sweetheart?” you asked, noticing he wasn’t participating in conversation like usual. On any other night he would be asking the kids all sorts of questions so he could engage with them. 

He looked like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He felt bad, seeing the slightly dejected look on the youngest’s face, but he couldn’t sit there any longer and pretend like he didn’t hate every single second of this dinner– his usual favorite meal of the day too. 

He faked a smile. “I, uh. I’m not feeling too good, I’m gonna go get some air.”

The concern on your features should have made him suck it up, at least you weren’t married to Harrington in this dream. He could live with boredom surely, it probably wasn’t that bad when you got used to it, and maybe he could convince you to come out of your shell a little bit, do more fun stuff. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, no it’s okay. Stay with the kids, entertain the guests and all that,” he assured.

You didn’t seem entirely convinced, but let him go nonetheless. He spared a last glance to the family sitting at the table, begging that this too was a horrible dream. He didn’t know why he couldn’t seem to catch a break, but it made him realize he needed to be much nicer to you whenever he escaped this trail of nightmares. 

When he stepped outside he immediately regretted not bringing a jacket along with him. It was cold, painfully cold, but he didn’t feel like heading back inside to find one anywhere. Instead he just made his way down the dying lawn of the trailer park, where a car that definitely wasn’t his beloved van was sitting. “I can’t believe this is my life,” he whined, burying his head in his hands as he continued walking. 

He didn’t know where he was going, and he probably should have checked, but he was too in his own head to remember to do so. If he’d been looking, he probably would have seen the same patch of ice that he originally slipped on laying in his path. For the second time, his foot went from under him and he wound up hitting his head on the ground due to the same bit of ice on the floor. “Not again,” he groaned. 

»»——⍟——««

The third time Eddie woke up, he was scared. He didn’t want to sit up to find that the love of his life was married to another one of his friends, or that he was painfully miserable in a life with the person he adored most in the world. He wanted to go back to the way things were. He realized now that he’d been unfair and slightly ungrateful to you when you were arguing, but now he was willing to get on his needs to make a heartfelt apology if it meant things would go back to normal. He would literally get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness if that was what you wanted him to do. 

He was planning on calling out to you to make sure you were there, but you were speaking before he could. “Hey, you’re awake,” you stated, breathing a deep sigh of relief. There was a cold towel or something pressed to his head by your hand. He wasn’t sure it was helping.

When he looked at you, you noticed something switch in his eyes. He went from being slow and drowsy to alert. He pushed himself up into a sitting position on the couch, which you tried to discourage him from doing considering he could potentially have a cousin from the hit on his head. “I’m so glad you’re here. You are regular you, right?”

Your brow furrowed. You had no idea what he was talking about. “I think so? You must have hit your head pretty hard, huh?”

You tried to begin fussing over him, but he grabbed your wrists to stop you from doing so. The look on his face seemed to be genuine, so you knew that he really was startled. “Please tell me you’re not married to Harrington, or that Wayne isn’t my dad, or that we don’t have really boring kids.” 

His words only made you all the more bewildered. You assumed that he’d hit his head harder than you originally thought. “Eddie, what? None of those things are true. Are you okay?” 

He sighed, slouching against you a little. There was an atmosphere of relief surrounding him, and you didn’t know what sort of crazy dreams he’d had but they clearly were very out of the ordinary. Right now it seemed like he just wanted you to hold him. All thoughts of the fight earlier pushed aside, you wrapped your arms around him, guiding his head against your chest and stroking his hair.

“My head is pounding.” That he’d expected. “How long was I out?”

You frowned, guiding your fingers through his curls. “A few hours. We were worried about you,” you told him. Only then did he realize Wayne was a few feet away, messing with his hands nervously as he watched his nephew regain his consciousness on the couch.

The memories of the fight the two of you had seemed to hit him then. Despite the heavy feeling in his head and the slight dizziness, he was overwhelmed with guilt. He didn’t even know why you were helping him considering the way he’d been awful to you. He had no right to be so rude just because he’d been having a bad day, and he knew he needed to apologize, especially if he ran the risk of losing you like he’d done more than once in his dreams today.

“I’m sorry,” he said, simply. “I want to watch Christmas movies with you and Wayne, and decorate the place and spend time with you. I swear. I didn’t mean anything I said. I’m so sorry.” 

You shook your head. “You were an asshole, but I guess you paid a price for it, so…” you trailed off. The scoff he let out made a grin cross your face. But he supposed he deserved it.

“So I’m forgiven?” he asked, wanting to check.

You beamed harder, leaving his side momentarily. He didn’t know what you were doing, nor did Wayne by the looks of it. The two Munson’s just had to wait for you to come back from whatever you were doing rustling around within his room. When you came back you were carrying a familiar piece of red material, as well as the VHS of the exact film you’d be watching when he came home. 

“Put this on and watch this with us, and you’re completely forgiven,” you promised.

Even though he didn’t really want to, he took the santa hat from you and sank it down onto his head. He looked positively adorable with the little frown and the fuzzy material on his head. He wouldn’t let you stand there and ‘admire’ him any longer though, if the two of you (plus Wayne if he wanted) were going to watch a movie, then he wanted to be as comfortable as possible cuddled on the couch with you. At least that way he could take a nap if he wanted to.

You didn’t protest, this was what you wanted to do. Since the moment he left for work that morning, you had wanted him to fall asleep on your shoulder like this as Gremlins played on the TV. It didn’t matter what was happening in the movie, not to you anyway, not when Eddie was snoring lightly with the cutest of smiles on his unconscious face. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if these dreams were better than the ones he’d had earlier and were what was causing his smile. Little did you know, it wasn’t the dreams that were making him happy, it was his real life. Despite the fact that in those nightmares he was married to you, the two of you living out your lives together— this was a thousand times better than that. He seriously couldn’t ask for more from you than this.

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