#i got rid of that ridiculously long coat

[sneakertin]

silly little tenth doctor redesign. just thought he deserves some pointy ears :P

[from-the-clouds]

lost in the fire - kendall roy x f!reader

| masterlist | succession sideblog: @kendollroyco | my kendall playlist

chapter summary: your boyfriend works too much. a oneshot, but if we're being real, i was thinking about kendall and the reader from thinking of a place, because i miss them. pairing: kendall roy x f!reader words: 4.6k warnings: SMUT (18+ only). soft dom Kendall. Somewhat unhealthy/jealous/co-dependent relationship but this is a Succession fic so like…what do we expect? Alcohol consumption - I don't know what Kendall's definition of sobriety is but he drinks a cocktail in this. a/n: i'll get back to tlou but i've had this partially written for like a year at this point. It started out as more of a manic Ken on a power trip type of fic but then it got really soft and fluffy because I am feeling touch-deprived lately so I’m sorry if I didn’t deliver enough evil ken for ya’ll. :/ OOPS!

**ALSO! I got rid of my taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

"We're like the Lewis and Clark of fucking." - Kendall Roy

Teetering down the hallway, you attempt to quell the outrageously loud click, click, click of your stilettos against the marble floor by shifting most of your weight into the ball of your feet and shuffling forward. It only makes it harder for you to balance while you attempt to put on the flashy gold hoop earrings your friend had insisted you’d wear. Of course, being quiet didn’t really matter, because you were the only person inhabiting the Hudson Yards penthouse. 

As usual, you are running late. Famously, you always underestimate how long it will take to get ready for social events – your friends could attest to that. It is a bad habit that, despite years of trying to correct, you can never quite shake. 

Beelining for the double doors of the multi-million dollar home, you are interrupted by your name being called out in a sing-songy voice. There is a blur of movement out of the corner of your eye, and you turn towards the familiar sound to find your boyfriend rounding the corner, a drink in hand.

The sight of him at home is rare these days, that for a second, you aren’t even sure if it’s really him. Maybe the place is being  haunted by an eerily similar lookalike, or it could be some new ridiculous billionaire technology that he’d invested in– holographic messaging, or something similarly dystopian that you’d roll your eyes at when he tries to explain it to you. It’s fuckin’ next level, I’m telling you. I’m a fucking tech pioneer. You can practically hear him trying to sell you on it despite your distaste.

“Ken?” you cling to the clutch under your arm, unable to stop the shit-eating grin that works its way onto your face. “Hey. When did you get home?”

“Hey yourself,” he answers, poorly hiding a bemused smirk behind Baccarat crystal. “I just got in.”

That much was clear, even though his briefcase and coat had already been cleared away from the table in the entranceway, and his suit jacket draped over the back of a barstool. “Are you going out?” He lowers the tumbler and leans against the counter, but still keeps it close, one finger sliding along the rim. 

“Yeah,” you approach Kendall cautiously. “...did you get my text? I thought I’d get ready here, we’re going to that place around the corner.”

He’d given you a key to his flat, even though the relationship was still pretty new – but decidedly not that new, given your history. Things were still moving quickly though, if you compare him to your past flings.

Kendall’s eyes close briefly in recognition, his brows pulling together as though he is scolding himself. “Oh, uh-huh, yeah….right.” It’s then, and in closing the space between you, that his haggard appearance becomes clear. You’re one of few who would probably even notice it. To the untrained eye his white dress shirt is impeccable, crisp and stark as usual – save for the lack of cufflinks, which you notice he’s discarded on the counter alongside his drink. His tie is still fastened tightly around his neck in a perfect half-Windsor. But salt and pepper stubble is sprinkled across his jawline, faint red hazy in the whites of his amber eyes. 

Work has consumed him in the last few weeks. It’s been nonstop. And he is still home earlier than you have expected, even though the sun had gone down long ago.

Kendall’s hand wraps around your waist and you lean against him, accepting his affectionate peck on the cheek. “Hey, honey.” The cedar notes of his cologne, the acidity of the vodka on his breath, and the weight of his arm around you makes your stomach flip, even as he draws back, releasing you so he can sit on a barstool. It’s probably for the better, as the impulse to throw yourself into his arms and abandon your plans will become impossible to resist if you don’t leave soon.

It would be a lie to say his career hasn’t put a strain on things lately. Business trips, dinner meetings, weekend conventions all seem determined to keep him away from you. For the past few weeks, you’ve been deprived of him, forced to accept only minutes of his time – mostly sweet nothings and apologies whispered as falls into bed beside you, then presses of his lips on your cheek, still half-asleep in the early hours of the morning as he leaves the next day. You have been forced to savor those moments, even though they are hardly substantial. But you know yourself, you aren’t better off with someone else. He has always been what you wanted.

Still, lately you have been thinking about all his failed past relationships. There is certainly a…pattern. You’ve seen enough, and sometimes it feels like you are purposely ignoring the signs – Watch Your Step!, before falling into a pit of daggers. 

He needed a break or he’d burn out, but you’ve learned when to bite your tongue and save those suggestions for when you are sure they won’t erupt. And you both aren’t always good at keeping arguments good-natured. 

Kendall shifts in his chair so he can look you up and down – this time up close. “Is this what you’re wearing out?”

“Uhhhh, yeah,” you answer hesitantly, feeling your face heat up. 

“Turn around,” his resting facial expression is already kind of indignant, but you can tell right now that he’s definitely frowning. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says. “I want to see.”

You shrug, but obey, unable to hide the way your lips quirk when you are back facing him again, hands on your hips. All you have to do is read the look on Kendall’s face to know that he doesn’t approve. And even though there is no way in hell you are going to change, the slight blaze in his narrowed eyes makes you think this is about to become a controversy. 

“Do you have a problem?” you ask, feigning innocence, glancing down at the getup. The red dress barely covers your ass – is far more revealing than anything you’d normally wear, accompanied by stiletto heels that lace up your calves. Sure, it’s a lot, but you look good, and you’re going out. 

“You’ll definitely be getting a lot of attention,” he conveniently doesn’t answer your question.

If you weren’t wearing lipstick, you would’ve bit your lower lip to keep your composure. Instead, you tilt your head and give him a coy smile. “You should come with me.” 

Kendall glances down at the countertop and shakes his head, the comment causing him to drop the subject of your attire entirely. “I can’t. I’ve got a meeting first thing.” To be fair, he avoids the club scene most of the time, so it’s not a well-thought-out offer. Too much temptation. “But you look good,” he concedes. 

“A work meeting on a Saturday?” you ask, ignoring the compliment. “Fuck,” you reach to take a sip from his tumbler. The vodka he keeps here is always chilled to perfection, so smooth it tastes like it’s melting off a glacier. “It’s that bad?”

He takes the beverage from your hand when you return it, shrugging before throwing the rest back, then standing to pour another. “Just the usual, la-dee-fuckin-dah….corporate bullshit.”

You frown and stare at your shoes, flexing your foot and inspecting its soles.

“Those heels don’t look very comfortable,” he remarks as he passes you.

“They aren’t.”

“Well then I’ll guess I’ll have to take you shopping to replace them.”

You feel yourself flush. “Let me know when you can fit me in your schedule.” 

“Uh-huh,” Kendall ignores your jab, changes the subject. “How’s your job?”

“Same as yours. La-dee-fuckin’-dah corporate bullshit,” you repeat his words from earlier, lowering your voice slightly to mimic his cadence of speaking. 

The sound of his warm chuckle makes your stomach flip again. “You want me to, uh, pour you one?”

“No, I should probably get going.” You sigh, pulling out your phone to text your friends that you are running behind, and you hear the clink of ice against crystal.

Then, his voice, deep and husky, directly against your ear. “Who’re you texting?”

You jolt in surprise at his sudden proximity.  “Fuck! Sorry,” you clear your throat. “Uh….the group chat.”

Kendall’s arm reaches past you to place his drink on the counter, and you feel his fingertips brush the hair away from the nape of your neck. Then, his lips follow, pressing there gently, his thumb trailing down your arm and then back up again. You shiver at the contact, and it dawns on you how touch-deprived you are.

“Pretty girl,” he murmurs against sensitive skin. His hands land on your shoulders and begin to knead at the taut muscles there. You try to keep yourself tense, even as you feel your phone slipping out of your hands, the drafted text all-but forgotten.

But instinctually, you shift backwards to feel the weight of his chest pressed against you.“You’re all wound up,” Almost chastising. Every part of your body below your bellybutton clenches. It’s those hands, his hands. Hands that used to wrap around your throat, thread into your hair, hold your wrists in place. Pin you down, spread you open…. While you think about them, you let him work at the tension that he is partially responsible for, nodding and letting out a long exhale.

“Just a little.”

“When are you gonna quit that job?” he asks you.

You first, you want to say, but let the retort die before it could leave your mouth. “Hmmmmm,” you pretend to mull it over, but you’re only half-aware of things he’s saying to you. “I don’t know.” 

“What kind of uh, feminist would I be if I let a girl as hot as fucking you have to worry about a job?”

You can’t help but snort, turning your head so his forehead bumps against your own. “Is that how feminism works?” 

“Uh-huh,” he chides, breath tickling the shell of your ear. “Fucking whatever. I wish you’d just let me look after you.”

You are unable to find your voice to answer, because you remember through your needy haze that you are running late, and when he says things like that, it certainly doesn’t help you regain composure. It’s only after you straighten, trying to pull yourself out of the trance he’s worked you into, that you discover how close he has pinned you to the countertop.

“Ken-” you try to protest, but the way it comes out sounds more like you’re pleading.

“What is it?” Kendall asks, returning his lips once more to your neck, beginning to work them tenderly up the column of your throat, which makes it impossible for you to finish the rest of the objection. “I’ve missed you so much,” he pulls you back against him by your waist.

“Me too,” you sigh. “But I-,” you’re cut off when he grinds against you, already half-hard, and your pelvis hits the granite lip of the countertop. It hurts, just for a second, but the pain is quickly replaced by warmth. Kendall pulls his hands away and you’re only held in place by his hips, the metal of his belt buckle cool against your sacrum. The dress you’re wearing is so thin it feels like there’s nothing separating him from your bare skin. 

“You what?” he prompts when you remain silent. You know him well enough to hear the self-satisfied smirk on his face, and his nails rake up and down your arms.

It’s a little petty, but you are hesitant to give yourself over so easily to him. To abandon your evening, just because he’s finally decided to see you at a reasonable hour. Of course, if your friends knew you were late because you were with him, they wouldn’t care. Kendall had been a well-kept secret until it was impossible to deny his existence in your life. But they were all a little too supportive of the relationship, since it meant they suddenly had guaranteed access to any club VIP section - and you perpetually pick up the bill. Not to mention the first-class, luxury accommodations they get on girls trips. 

There was more to it than just being late, though. You had always been willing to do anything for him, even before you were dating. He told you to jump, you asked how far? He gave you one pleading look from underneath those thick lashes – and you folded. And Kendall is very aware that he’s your weakness. So you constantly try to convince him otherwise, lest he get too comfortable. And really, after his neglectful behavior, did he really deserve you without any opposition?

“Kendall,” you manage to turn slightly. “I’m going to be late.” Wriggling some more in his grip, but it’s only enough to bring you face-to-face, looking up into his stormy eyes. 

He studies you carefully, like he might let you leave if he senses enough conviction. “I don’t care.”

You might’ve laughed, if it weren’t for how stern he sounds. It almost scares you. Almost. Hoping to soften him, you fit your thumb into the dimpled fabric of his tie, and use it to drag him forward, offering a tender kiss on his cheek. Returning the embrace, his stubble scratches your face as he smiles against you. He reaches behind you for another sip of his drink and his unoccupied hand slides down your back, squeezing your ass through the silky fabric. 

You are burning, fire licking up your arms, your neck, your face. It’s too much, to have him so close and not be able to have him. All the tension building with nowhere for it to go. When he pulls back, you lean forward.

It’s a little rough at first, because you are so desperate, tasting the vodka, drawing his bottom lip between your teeth. Kendall is the one who softens you, cradles your jaw to draw you closer, opens his mouth and deepens the kiss, so deliberate and practiced that you’re unable to speak when he pulls away. 

“Tell me something,” full lips so close to yours that they brush your own when he speaks, your eyes fluttering shut. His touch coasts up your sides, up your arms, landing on your shoulders. “Who are you showing off for in this?” Kendall hooks his pointed finger around a spaghetti strap of your dress, and lets the elastic snap back against your skin. You savor the sting it leaves behind.

Admittedly, there’s a third reason why you’re being so withholding. He’s so spoiled, so used to getting what he wants, whenever he wants it. Not just from you. And when he doesn’t get it, he becomes petulant, fiery. You’ve learned that if you piss him off just enough, you don’t have to ask him to fuck you within an inch of your life. He just does. 

So, you decide to poke the sleeping bear, shrugging and crossing your arms like it’s nothing, giving him a demure smile. “You wouldn’t know him.”

Kendall’s nostrils flare as his hand rises to grip your jaw – tightly. “Uh-huh.” Even if you’re only joking, the very idea of you dressing up at all – let alone like that –  for anyone except himself, pisses him off.  “Fuck you.”

“You’d like to, wouldn’t you?” you try to keep your voice even, but it sort of loses the steadiness you were hoping for when he hooks a finger behind your knee, dragging it up across the expensive, soft wool of his slacks to peg around his hip.

The bruising kiss that answers is clearly intended to erase the smug look on your face, and it works – your breath hitching, the hand on his tie tugging him closer. Kendall seems to speak without saying anything at all, grabbing your opposite thigh and lifting until you are perched on the edge of the countertop.

It’s getting real, but you still haven’t decided if you are actually going to stick around. The way he looks right now, however, swings the pendulum farther into the side of staying in – red lipstick left behind on his cheek, shirt wrinkled, tie hanging loosely around his neck. You wanted to make him look even more wrecked. 

Kissing him again, his hands begin to roam, tugging the dress off your shoulders and freeing your tits. “Shit,” He dips his head to sloppily mouthing at the newly exposed skin. “Knew you weren’t wearing a fuckin’ bra.”

“Ken,” you squirm when he latches onto one of your nipples, pinching the other between two fingers. “I really need to get going.”

“Not yet,” he hums, the vibration of his voice against your skin makes the space between your legs ache. “If you’re going to go out in this fucking dress,  I don’t want you to forget who you belong to.”

You squirm in his grip – not because you want to get away from him – but because you want to see if he’ll pin you in place, be even rougher. He does. He is. “Stop that. This isn’t a fucking negotiation.”

Well, okay.

He kneads into your thighs now, one of his hands dipping beneath the skirt of your dress that’s already so short he’s only an inch or so away from your already-soaked panties. 

“Fuck,” You tilt your head back to look at the ceiling, like you might find some self-control there, some will to resist him, but it’s about as cold and uninspiring as the rest of the apartment. “Please.”

Kendall lets out a dark chuckle,  pushing aside your thong and brushing his knuckles against your damp cunt. He loves to tease, and right now is no exception. His touch isn’t enough to satisfy, so you press yourself forward to seek it out yourself. You don’t dare meet his eyes, which you can feel are watching you intently, admiring how you keen and arch and whimper in frustration. Still, you aren’t quite ready to beg. 

Thankfully, you don’t have to. Without warning, he pushes two fingers inside you, groaning as he does, his thumb finding your clit.

“Yes, Kendall, that’s–” you don’t finish the thought because you aren’t entirely sure what you actually have to say. His digits curl, attentive, practiced – tuned in to�� exactly what you like, what you need.  You grip at the fabric of his shirt that’s bunched around his elbows. Despite how intense meeting his gaze right now will be, you turn to look at him anyway, surprised by the affection and warmth you find in his eyes. 

“You try so hard not to be,” he says while he continues to stare you down. “But you’re always so fucking good for me.”

Your stomach flips, partly in shame, partly because of how good it’s always felt to be seen by him. Throbbing around him, feeling your pleasure build, but he withdraws his fingers from you before it can crest. An embarrassing noise leaves you, squeezing your eyes shut. 

The clink of his belt unbuckling immediately snaps you back to reality, and you hike your dress further up your hips, shimmying out of your thong. It’s pitiful, the way you don’t want to delay any longer the feeling of him inside you. 

He strokes himself in his hand, lines his cock up, and pushes a piece of hair off your face. 

“You want me?” he asks, and you bob your head enthusiastically. “Tell me, then.”

“I want you, Kendall. Please, I want you so bad.” 

“Yeah you do,” he mutters, and wastes no time jerking forward to enter you. 

Though you’d had him plenty of times you never could quite get used to the feeling – he’s big, of course, and it’s always electric, the blood in your veins buzzing, your hands tightening on his shoulders. 

“Relax, honey,” Kendall says, feeling the way your body tenses at the intrusion, placing a hand on your sacrum, one between your shoulder blades to steady you.

He presses his hips forward until they are flush against your own, bottoming out inside you, pausing. It’s welcome at first, a chance to catch your breath, to let out a shuddery exhale - temporarily appeased by the way your cunt stretches to accommodate him, and he’s so close to you after so much time spent away. You’re embarrassed at how badly you’ve needed this, how reliant on him you’ve become, but he always feels so good. 

Kendall stays still for long enough that you grow frustrated, and you use his tie to pull him closer, loosening the knot and rutting against him until he presses his thumb into the crease of your hip and thigh so hard you are forced to stop. Once you do, he starts to move, thrusts slow but deep, lips pressing hastily between panting breaths. 

“Fuck, it’s been too long,” he laments.

Despite everything, you can’t help but talk back. “You don’t say?”

Kendall doesn’t like that at all, his hips snapping at a punishing pace, which seems more like a reward than anything else, his hand clasping your jaw roughly, forcing you to look at him. 

“Don’t speak to me like that,’ he warns.

An involuntary, low moan leaves you. It’s overwhelming – always is. You aren’t used to sex with someone you feel so connected to, or with a lover who is so attentive to your needs, who effortlessly strikes a perfect balance between rough, passionate, and tender. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, anxious to run your hands through the smattering of hair on his chest, feel the warmth of his skin under your palms. Even if it’s not possible, you want to be closer to him. Needy. So needy. You’ve heard it from him before, and would probably hear it again. He is right, and in moments like this, you can never bring yourself to care. You like it.

He’s watching you so intently, and the rest of the city might as well be too. He basically lives in a fishbowl, you’re surrounded by windows that offer panoramic views of the glittering lights of the city. The only reason you have any privacy at all is because of just how high up you are, no one else can actually see you right now. Even if they did, what could possibly happen? Kendall loves to take advantage of this – he’s taken you up against the cold glass windows, has let you sink to your knees in front of him out on his balcony. 

“What are you gonna tell your friends when they ask why you were so late tonight?” he asks. “Gonna tell them you were letting me spread you open on the fucking counter?”

“God,” you stutter out, always shocked by the things that come out of his mouth when takes you like this, voice deep and firm, enunciating each syllable like he’s giving a speech – frustratingly collected. It makes you ache that much more. “I missed you,” you whimper, pulling his shirt off his shoulders. As much as you want it fully off, not just hanging loose around his elbows, you don’t want him to release you from the bruising hold he’s got you in. This would have to do. 

“Uh-huh,” Kendall answers by fucking into you even harder, his pelvic bone kissing your clit with every thrust, and your nails etching crescents into his biceps. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

His head falls to your shoulder in a brief moment of humility, lips working on your neck, and you feel your release fast approaching. In moments like these, you don’t doubt how he really feels. He gives it all away, tries his best to make it up to you, and it’s so easy to forgive him.  Kendall’s fist wraps around one of the stiletto heels of your shoes, lifting your leg to hook over his shoulder and drive his cock deeper into you. He’s perfect, feels perfect, there’s no one else who makes you feel the way he does. When his thumb begins to rub delicate circles around your clit, you’re gone.

Your body tenses up for so long, you actually think you might’ve psyched yourself out. And then everything releases. Kendall coaxes you through your orgasm, deep voice muttering things that are either unintelligible or that you wouldn’t dare to repeat out loud, and you cling to him while your cunt pulses in waves. It lasts for a long time, or at least it feels like it does, he slows just to fuck you through it, so you can both savor how good it feels. That’s it. That’s my good fucking girl. When he tries to kiss you, you oblige, but it’s open-mouthed and sloppy since you’re struggling to breathe and can’t stop whispering his name. 

“Ken, you’re so good, it’s so good–”

You know he likes to be praised just as much as you do. He cuts you off with a deep kiss, moaning into your mouth and vibrating every nerve in your body as he follows you over the edge, spurred on by your own release. He buries his cock inside you as deep as he can, you feel warm and full and complete. 

For what feels like a few minutes, you remain tangled with one another, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You can feel the soft puffs of his breathing against your skin, which is now damp.

Eventually, he draws back, kisses your cheek and tucks himself back into his underwear. You pull the straps of your dress back into place and when you push yourself off the counter, realize your legs are trembling and you wobble.

Kendall reaches to steady you. “Go sit down,” he squeezes your arm and you barely manage to stumble to his couch before you’re slumping against the cushions and struggling to unlace the strappy heels you’ve still got on. 

He joins you a moment later, placing a glass of cold water on the coffee table and kneeling to help you out of your shoes. You can only imagine what you must look like, because he looks disheveled, shirt still hanging open, pants unbuttoned, your lipstick still smudged on his cheek. Exhausted as you are, it makes you want him all over again. 

He settles next to you, pulls you to his chest, and you wrap your arms around his waist, leaning up to whisper softly in his ear. “Ken,” he turns his head slightly, cheek pressed against your forehead. “I love you.” 

From this angle you can only see the corner of his eyes, the way they crinkle as he looks down bashfully, eyelashes nearly touching his cheeks at your admission, words he so rarely has heard before. Words you have vowed to repeat until he believes you – because sometimes you think he doesn’t. Still, he answers. “I love you, too.” You close your eyes a moment, your heart rate returning to normal, and take in one final deep breath. Content. 

“I don’t want to keep you from your friends,” Kendall says eventually, hands in your hair, tugging gently so you’ll look up at him. 

“Right,” you nod. “Honestly, I don’t know if I even want to go out anymore.”

“But you got all dressed up,” he smirks.

“Look where it got me.”

He laughs. “Uh-huh. You knew what you were doing what you fucking put that shit on.”

You don’t deny it, feeling your cheeks grow warm. It’d be too easy to stay with him, to slide across his lap and kiss him until he takes you again. But your phone dings on the counter, and you know you can’t abandon your friends entirely. You sigh, pulling away from Kendall and looking him in the eyes. 

“Don’t worry,” he encourages. “I’ll wait up for you.”

[iliketangerines]

I saw that you've been writing for a handful of MK11/MKX characters lately. Would you ever consider writing for Erron Black? That cowboy has had me in a chokehold for a while. Maybe he and the (afab) reader are *partners* in service to the Kahn (either Kotal or Kitana) and thus they have a close "working relationship" *wink*?

Love your stuff, glad you're writing for this fandom!

a working relationship

a/n: save a horse, ride a cowboy

pairing: erron black x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI) cowboy, gun kink, creampies

you take a slow drag from a cigar and let the smoke settle in your lungs before breathing it out into Erron Black’s face

he grunts and brings his hand back to his own face, taking his own breath of the cigar and breathing it into the air as you take another sip of the whiskey in your hands

it had been a hard night, keeping the unruly Outworlders off of Kotal Kahn

the protestors were growing more bold with their attacks, taking more attempts to assassinate Kotal Kahn, and today had been the worst offender so far

but, for now, you’re in his room, wearing nothing but a flimsy nightgown and panties, and you get a break to drink some liquor and let the haze of nicotine fill your brain along with Erron Black

you glance at him to see how he’s feeling, and he’s got his hat tipped back as he takes a sip from his own whiskey, blowing smoke through his nose as he lets the cigar light the air

it was ridiculous how he always wore that hat, even in just his boxers, but you supposed that was part of the cowboy charm

you finish off the last of your whiskey and stand up from your chair and go over to Erron Black to straddle his hips, dipping your head into his neck and pressing your lips to his skin

he chuckles and places a steadying hand on the small of your back, and he finishes off the last of his whiskey and places the glass down as you start to grind down on his hardening cock

you lick the sweat from his neck, humming at the taste, and your hips grind down on his, needing some friction on you

he taps his cigar to get rid of the ash, and he takes a long drag before gripping onto your face and kissing you, blowing the smoke into your mouth

you moan at the taste of the ash in your mouth and press your tongue into his as your hands come up to cradle his face in your hands

his hand keeps a tight grip on your face as he kisses you, but soon both of you grow impatient, frustration and anger pent-up from the day starting to bubble up inside the both of you

neither of you bother to strip of your clothes, you just slide your panties to the side while Erron black slides down his boxers, his cock slapping against his stomach

you grip onto it and grip onto it, ready to sink down on it, but he stops you and tells you in a raspy voice that you’re not ready, that you haven’t been properly stretched

you slap his hand away, mumbling underneath your breath that you want him to fuck you now, and Erron Black growls and stands up, making you slip off his lap and stand up to avoid falling off

you mutter at him, a little frustrated that you’ve just been cockblocked by your fuck buddy, but then he drags you to the large bed in the large room and bends you over

he tells you to stay still, leaving a firm slap on your ass, and you sigh but oblige to his order, waiting for him to do something

a click fills the air, and you feel the cold metal of his gun press against your cunt, collecting your wetness on the barrel

you whine as the ridges and bumps of the metal rubs against your sensitive clit, and your hips grind down on the material

Erron Black takes another drag of the cigar and watches as you grind against his gun, your wetness coating the barrel and making it shiny and bright

your back arches, trying to get more friction, and he slips the barrel inside of you, fucking you on the barrell

you whine, mind filing with adrenaline and pleasure as he fucks you with his weapon

it’s a sick sort of pleasure the both of you indulge in, and yet neither of you ever stop, clearly Erron Black enjoys it with the low rap he lets out praising you

he fuck you slow and steady on his gun, watching as you squirm and fist the sheets, and he finally pulls his gun out of you, admiring how your wetness drips off the gun and onto his hand

he tells you to stand up and get on the bed, and you crawl up onto the bed as Erron Black also gets up on the bed, sitting against the head board

gesturing to his lap with the gun, you crawl onto his lap, grinding your cunt into his cock, and he groans at the feeling

he raises the gun and slips it past your lips, watching you suck on the metal as he takes another drag of the cigar

you line yourself with him and sink down on him, whining around the barrel of the gun as you ride him slow and steady

he’s thick, and he knows it, smirking at you and leaning his back into the headboard as he lets you fuck yourself on his cock

you let him blow smoke in your face as you clean his gun of your wetness, and you pluck his hat off his head and put it on yourself as your start to move yourself faster

one of your hands go down to rub at your clit, and your hips slap against his as you reach your high

with the way Erron Black groans and the cigar slightly falls from his fingers, you can tell he’s getting close as well, and you remove the gun from your mouth and lean forward to kiss him

he drops the gun and cups the back of your neck to bring you closer to him as your pussy clenches down on his thick cock, creaming around him as his seed spurts up into you

you grind onto his hips, clit grinding deliciously into his pelvis as you ride out your high and press your tongue into his mouth

he parts from your lips as the high dies down, and he lets you take one last drag from the dying cigar before he reaches over and puts it out on the ashtray

he holds you in his arms as shuffles down on the bed so that you’re both laying flat, his cock still inside of you and plugging you full of his seed

he pets your hair as you both drift off to sleep

when you both wake up, you get off him and clean yourself up as if nothing’s ever happened

but then he plucks his hat off your head and leans in close to tell you that you look in his hat before he exits the room to find Kotal Kahn, leaving you speechless in the bedroom

[runariya]

girl i hope you know my notifs are on and i'm so excited to read what you post next 😭 any spoilers for ccl? 👀💜

Nooo that’s so sweet of you 😭 day4 isn’t rly that intense (day5 will be tho 👀) and I fear it’s a lousy spoiler but alas lol

Thanks for enjoying and cheering me on 💕 lysm angel

~snippet below the cut~

❄️🏂🏔️♥️

“There’s nothing left to talk about. But I appreciate your concern.”

Hara just nods, staring down at the floor, rubbing her hands together between her knees while you pull on your coat and tuck your phone safely into its case.

“It’s a nice case. Did you paint it yourself?”

You glance at your phone, rubbing your thumb over the faded paint that was once so bright. You couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of it after the breakup, even though it reminds you of everything good about your time with Jungkook. Maybe there’s some masochistic streak in you that wants to punish yourself for everything you did and didn’t do. Maybe it’s time to let go of all the memories that keep pulling you back to a time that’s long gone.

“No.” You sigh, tucking it away in your coat pocket with your purse and heading to the door. You pause with your hand on the handle, checking to see if Hara’s following, which she is. She’s right behind you again, and this time, you just let out a startled scream internally, hoping you don’t flinch too visibly.

Opening the door, you let her pass first, just to keep her in your sight this time, but as soon as you’re near the entrance to the main area, she stops, raising a hand. You give her a puzzled look, but she only points to one of her ears, so you lean in, trying to make out what’s being said.

First, you catch the voices of Taehyung and Namjoon, Taehyung’s voice too loud and distinct not to notice. But when you listen a bit harder, you pick up Hope and Jungkook having a different conversation, probably a little further from the others.

“I know! I know you’re a good driver. Just…”

“Just? C’mon, what’s going on with you, C?”

“Just… take care of her, okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re acting like I’m some boy who’s just got his licence and can’t be trusted—”

The rustling of your coat drowns out the rest of their conversation as you step into the room, deciding not to eavesdrop any longer. You glance around briefly, and of course, Jungkook’s eyes find yours again, but you quickly turn towards Yoongi, resting your hands on his shoulders from behind where he’s still slouched on the one-seater. He wraps his hand around your wrist, his thumb gently brushing over your pulse.

“Why was my case out in the snow?” you murmur into his ear, which earns a lazy laugh from him. He peeks over his shoulder at you, his voice still raspy from his hangover as he murmurs back.

“You thought you could yeet it away and be done with it.”

Your cheeks go warm again; drunk-you is really ridiculous in every possible way. You’re just grateful it was only Namjoon and Yoongi who saw your breakdown, and no one else.

“Right.”

“Stay safe, yeah?”

He gives your wrist a gentle squeeze, and when your eyes meet again, even though his are still glassy from last night’s antics, there’s that quiet care in them only real family can have.

“I will. Thanks for being there for me, Yoongs.” You press a quick kiss to his head and give him a brief squeeze around his shoulders, only for him to dramatically fake his own demise.

Straightening up, you meet Hope’s eyes, give him a quick nod, and head towards the door. Jungkook moves with the two of you, holding the door open without taking his eyes off you. His gaze is so intense that you can’t keep eye contact, mumbling a quiet, hurried “thanks” and “bye” as you follow Hope to his car.

[sunnysam-my]

Hazbin Hotel redesign ideas p. 1

Unfortunately I don't really have time to draw rn, but here are some ideas if anyone is looking for inspiration.

THE VEES:

They follow lates trends so they won't stick to the outfits and technologies from the times they died. We even see that Vox changed his screen (head) to more modern, flat TV screen.

Valentino:

He is a moth that realises poison that's basically a date-rape drug. His wings are hidden, looking like a coat, which makes no sense, a cloak, cape or sleeveless coat would look better. He is a pimp who died in 1970s. Val was Hispanic when living. Apparently, he has bad eyesight.

He is supposed to be a moth, but I don't really see it much, and the furr around his neck, that's a part of his body, just looks ridiculous. I would design him after some actual poisonous moth.

Cinnabar moth - The cinnabar is slate-black with two red spots and two pinky-red stripes on the rounded forewings. Its hindwings are pinky-red and bordered with black. The caterpillars feed on poisonous ragwort leaves. The poison from the leaves is stored in the caterpillar's body and remains even when they are an adult. As adult they leak the poison when they need to. Cinnabar moths can be seen flying during the day and night.

Six-spot burnet moth - day-flying moth that flies with a slow, fluttering pattern. It has glossy black, with six red spots on each narrow, but long forewing. They release hydrogen cyanide when attacked.

Personally I would go with Cinnabar moth, but make the spots heart shaped, and leave his inner outfit without the accessories (the suit with the white pants and golden heart belt). I would also leave his general body type but definitely change the neck furr ring, because wtf is that? I would play around with his glasses since he is supposed to have eyesight problems.

[Edit: Actually, I would make him a combo of both moths and make the furr ring his hair, because he is bald without the hat!?!?]

Velvette:

Velv is a fashion designer and critic, she is also an influencer. She keeps the Vees together and their image fresh on the internet. She's a British black woman in her early 30's. Originally her appearance was supposed to be doll-like, but that was changed to 'it-girl' and a 'bad bitch' with a darker aesthetic.

Velvette's outfit is reminiscent of Val's (heart belt, coat with hearts, black stripes on arms) but darker, especially her sleeveless coat that imitates his wings. Since Valentino is already going to be darker (in my idea) and she is a fashion influencer it would make more sense for her to be brighter.

Main thing I would change about her is her skin tone, hair, and Harley Quinn themes left from her old design.

When creating very human like characters it's important to actually get the racial characteristics right. Her ashy skin and "curly" hair just makes it look like they didn't know how to draw a black character. I would give her a different texture, something between 3A and 4B. A hairstyle like heart shaped space buns would be so cool, but even if not, her styl in a poster in the background is already better than the ponytails.

When it comes to her style I would get rid of pom-poms shoes and fingerless gloves. Her outfit for meeting the overlord was pretty okay, but I would change her other outfit. My inspiration would be PidginDoll's design, because he makes fabulous outfits and makeup looks for all bodies, genders and races, but I'll keep the 'goth' (it's not goth, it's just a little bit alt, mostly skulls) theme.

Blue accents like makeup would work great with her brown skin and would reference Vox.

Vox:

I genuinely think he has the best design in the entirety of the show, I would barely change anything. His outfit is similar to Alastor who he is trying to imitate, but he wears a tail suit, which is way more formal and elegant than any other suit, trying to showing he is a better, modern version of Alastor. I've seen some people got rid of his hat and gave him a tail made out a cord for fun, but other than that his design is good. Not too much details and not too little, tells us a lot about the character.

Maybe less stripes, because apparently Viv loves zebras or something. /hj

[onwednesdayswewrite]

you, tara carpenter, have stolen my heart

chapter two of this hell is better with you

Pairing: ghostface!Tara Carpenter x ghostface!Reader  

Warnings: canon typical violence for scream, talk of murder (no details, but they do kill someone) blood, cursing, misuse of prescription drugs, dark themes. this isn’t smut...but like smut adjacent, it gets a little spicy. CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR SCREAM 6

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Reader and Tara are tired of fighting their urges. 

Also no one ever talks about how tiny Jenna would be as Ghostface so I felt the need to roast her a little☠️

~~~~

You watched as Samantha Carpenter’s gray Honda Civic rolled to a stop at the curb in front of you. It sat there for a few moments before the passenger door popped open. Tara appeared, an iced coffee tight in her hands, despite the freezing temperature. Her white Converses were traded for Doc Martens to give her more traction on the ice that covered most of the sidewalk. You met her eyes, and you could tell she wanted to greet you. But she wouldn’t, not with Sam so close. Sam was still ridiculously overprotective despite Tara begging for just a little freedom. You understood Sam’s worries given what they had been through. But this was all just too much, Tara needed to live her life. You shook your head, you didn’t want to look anymore. Tara was an adult, and more than capable of getting  herself to therapy. Sam needed to loosen the leash just a little. 

‘You should get rid of Sam, she will only make things harder’ the pill bottle felt light in the pocket of your winter coat. You shook the bottle but no sounds followed. Empty. ‘It's more fun this way, and you know it’ you wanted to argue back but you knew it was right. With every passing day the urges got stronger. You couldn’t fight it for much longer. You wouldn’t fight it for much longer. 

“I’ll walk back to the apartment” Tara started to close the door of the car. You could tell Sam wanted to make a comment, but the tone of Tara's voice didn’t leave much room for argument. Instead, she nodded, letting Tara shut the door with a thud. Tara stood for a moment, seeming to make sure Sam actually was leaving, before heading in the direction of the meeting hall. 

As soon as Tara was within reach, you pulled her to you. Tara let out a sigh of content when your arms settled around her smaller frame. You didn’t care if Sam was still close by. You missed Tara, and you certainly weren’t going to let her sister stop you from kissing your girlfriend. The taste of her sugar cookie iced coffee lingered on your lips when you pulled away. 

“You're gonna get us caught” Tara scolded, but hardly made any effort to move away from you. 

“Let her” Sam’s car made a left turn onto the main street, almost out of view. Her tail lights disappeared amongst the sea of red. Tara’s giggle turned into a misty cloud as it hit the cool air. You pulled her in for another kiss, and a warmth spread through your cold bones. Her ambrosial smell masked the scent of garbage and cigarettes that permeated through the city streets. Daisy by Marc Jacobs had been a popular choice, but it fit her. Tara bounced on her feet a little in your arms, visibly calmer and happier in your presence.

 The cold february wind cut through the skin, your scrubs doing little to shield you from it. A giggle vibrated against your chest, Tara squirming as you tried to zip up your coat with her inside too. When that didn’t quite work, Tara was still content with letting you hold her close. The start of spring semester brought long, cold days, and endless hours of clinicals. Tara hated it, the hours away from you. You could feel it even now by the way she clung to you, relishing the feeling of your skin on hers. You hated it too, but you knew Tara felt it more. It hurt her. 

Snow whipped around with the wind that cut through your coat like a hot knife through butter. Your gloves only made it harder to put the key in the lock, and served no real protection from the cold. A surgery ran long, leaving you stumbling through the door just after 2 am. All you wanted was your bed, and Tara. But you didn’t expect to see her still awake. 

The original Stab movie played softly, the dim light of the tv being the only thing illuminating the living room of your apartment. Tara’s favorite baby pink sherpa blanket and your old high school band hoodie were tightly wrapped around her on the sofa. Tara looked cozy, and her eyes desperately fought to stay awake to greet you. 

“Baby, what are you doing still up?” you weren’t mad, but you knew the hours tickled closer to her 6 am alarm to have her ready for classes. Your schedules didn’t often match up during the week, but you did your best to make do with what you could. 

“You know I can't sleep when you're not home safe” her voice was quiet and thick with sleep, like she was trying not to wake herself up too much. 

“Can I please take you to bed now?” you pulled off your winter clothes as you rounded the couch. You almost didn’t even wait for Tara to nod before scooping her up in your arms. She was practically dead weight in your arms as her body finally succumbed to the exhaustion. Her pink blanket still hung around her tiny body as you made your way down the hall. 

“Just one second, baby” you whispered in her ear as you set her softly on your bed. It was practically your shared bed now, with Tara using the key you gave her every night to get in once Sam went to bed. Only to get up early and sneak back in before Sam was any wiser. Tara claimed it was because the heat didn’t work right in her apartment, but you knew better. You didn’t dare question it or complain, the fleeting moments late at night and early in the morning were the only thing that kept you going on long days. A soft whine fell from Tara’s lips when you left her to change from your work clothes. 

Tara propped herself up on her elbow, watching your every move as you hurried to get ready for bed. Almost like she was terrified if she closed her eyes, you wouldn’t be there when she opened them again. Every few moments, her eyes would droop, her head following shortly after. Only for her to jerk back up, acting nonchalant as if she hadn’t just almost fallen asleep. But even when you flicked the light off, she didn’t miss a beat and had her hand ready to guide you into the bed. 

“Please don’t ever leave me” her body was warm against your cold one when you slipped under the covers. 

“I’m not ever gonna leave you, baby” you settled her against your chest. The room illuminated with every passing car headlight through a crack in the curtain. Tara’s breath evened out. “I will never, ever leave you, Tara Carpenter” you whispered into her hair, but you knew she was already asleep. 

“So I have a proposition” you leaned back against the brick of the building, rocking on your heels and pulling Tara with you. She eyed you suspiciously. 

“And what would that be?” a soft giggle followed her question. Her nose flared and dimples appeared at the corners of her mouth. It was times like this where you craved sunny days to bring back her freckles. Her lip gloss glistened with the evening sun. For a moment you wondered if it was smeared across your face. But Tara’s lips were more tempting than the thought of her lip gloss. You weren’t one to have very good self control, so you didn’t push yourself when unnecessary. You pressed your lips to hers once again, then began peppering kisses along her jaw. 

“I propose that we get the hell out of this place, and do something a little more fun” your voice was barely audible against her ear.

“And what’s your definition of fun?” Tara’s voice dropped, her eyes darting from your lips, and then quickly back up to your eyes just wanting you to kiss her again. Her fingers were playing with the neckline of your scrub top. Other members of your group filtered into the building, paying no mind to the two of you. They were used to Tara being all over you until the very second group started, usually tumbling in a few minutes late. 

“Well there’s a few options” your finger hooked into the waistband of her jeans. Her skin was soft against your calloused fingertips. You tugged her close until her hips met yours. “But I have one that I think you will like the sound of most” you shrugged your backpack off of your shoulder. Tara tilted her head quizzingly, her eyes watching you pull open the zip. She peered into the backpack as you pushed away black fabric to reveal a Ghostface mask. 

“You, Tara Carpenter have stolen my heart, so let’s cut out someone else’s” you felt her shiver against you. 

“I thought you would never ask” she smiled up at you. A darkness took over in her eyes as she took your hand and tugged you down the streets of New York City. 

~~~~

Water ran over your knife. It mixed with the blood on the blade, and swirled together before running down the drain. A bottle of hydrogen peroxide sat by the faucet, your crumbled up shirt perched next to it, its blood strained edge hanging into the sink. You were annoyed to put it simply. Your favorite shirt was ruined, and Tara was taking far too long to return to the apartment. 

Your phone began to buzz, and the incessant tone followed after. It vibrated loudly against the wood where your leg rested on the cabinet door.  Liquid soaked through the sleeve of your robe, you weren’t sure if it was soaked more with water or blood. But at this point it didn’t really matter, you were covered head to toe in both. 

Tara’s picture lit up the screen of your phone. It was a picture you had taken at a local diner when you snuck her out one night when Sam was at therapy. Bloody water drops fell onto your screen as you answered, pressing on speaker mode. 

“Hello?” you answered, continuing to rinse the knife in your hands. 

“Hello, y/n” Ghostface’s voice crackled through the line. 

“Well it’s fancy speaking to you” you chuckled down the line. Tara was playing a dangerous game. Your knife hit the base of your sink with a clatter as you dropped it once it was clean.

“What was that noise? What are you doing?” Even through the voice changer you could hear the concern laced in Tara’s voice. 

“Oh I’m just doing some cleaning” You reached for the knife still coated in blood sitting on the counter. Blood pooled where it had sat. Tara’s knife had been much messier than yours, her body seeming to lose control as she used her blade to take a life. But it was all fun and games, until clean up time, and then? Well Tara wanted to play a different game. 

“Well wouldn’t you make a good little housewife, y/n?” Ghostface purred in your ear. “So do you have a girlfriend?” She quickly followed with. You set Tara’s knife down in the sink. 

“Why? Do you wanna ask me out on a date?” You chuckled darkly, Tara was gonna pay for this little game later. But if Tara wanted to play, then you would sure give her a show. You let your robe fall off your shoulders, it landed soundlessly on the mat by the sink. Goosebumps rose on your stomach and shoulders. With your shirt by the sink, it left you in nothing but a sports bra. But you knew Tara. And you knew Ghostface’s game, she was watching. 

“Maybe, I really just wanna know whose throat I have to cut for touching you” Tara growled, but you didn’t feel threatened in the slightest. 

“She would probably like that, she’s a bit of a kinky one” you tried to bite back your laughter. You knew if she had been close enough she would have smacked you around the head…if she could reach you with her height. Tara’s sigh was muffled by the voice changer. 

“Wanna play a game?” you could tell Tara was getting frustrated because this was all taking too long. Tara had no patience. You rounded the kitchen island, and made your way into the living room. You pulled the curtain drawn together, not before looking out the window. Not even a ledge or anything for her to stand on. You had been by the front door the whole time and it never opened. Where the hell was she? 

“Well what kind of game are we talking about?” and then it occurred to you, the fire escape at your bedroom window. Got you, Tara. 

“You run, I’ll find you” and with that the lights in your apartment flicked off. You staggered passed the couch and through the entryway to the hall in the pitch black. Not even the lights on the tv display guided you, the whole power to the apartment was cut. 

You kept your guard up, your ears perked up on high alert. If she was already in the house, you would hear her open your bedroom door. You rested against the wall for a moment. All you needed to do was let your eyes adjust.

“Oh please don’t kill me, Mrs. Ghostface” your voice called out into the darkness, taunting her. 

“Boo” and suddenly she was here, pushing you back against the wall, hard. Her Ghostface mask was long gone, but the robe remained, drowning her small stature. Her perfume blended with the metallic smell of blood. 

“I’m ready to discuss those other fun options you mentioned earlier” Tara’s breath was hot against your ear, her hands leaving goosebumps where they touched along your stomach.  Her lips brushed against the side of your neck but never once settled. And then you felt it. The lace of Tara’s thong tickled your side as she tucked them into the waistband of your jeans. She then took your hand, and pulled you down the dark hall.

Yep, Tara Carpenter had stolen your heart.

[darthannie]

day five: hate fuck with raymond leon

pairing: Raymond Leon x reader word count: 819 warnings: 18+ PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, rough sex, spanking, reader also wears a trench coat lmao, mention of age difference a/n: Raymond Leon hate me, please.

kintober masterlist

Raymond disliked the fact that you were his superior. He had been a timekeeper for much longer than you have, and he found it ridiculous that someone younger was his superior officer. 

You called him into your office to discuss a new case that was being assigned to him. It always irked him to be around you. He always had a bored look on his face, but you assumed he was like that with everyone. That was until he came bursting at the seams during the meeting over a disagreement. It quickly turned personal. 

He got up in your face. “You are not fit to be my boss. I don’t think trash like you should have EVER been allowed to become a timekeeper.”

You slapped him across the face. “How dare you talk to me like that?”

He clenched his jaw, “Easily.”

“That’s enough, Raymond.” You adjusted the cuff of your coat. “You know, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you had a little crush on me. That’s why you’re being such an asshole. Can’t handle the fact you like your boss.”

That was worse than the slap in the face. Raymond resented the fact he found you attractive. It was something he couldn’t have. He stayed silent, careful not to out himself. It had the opposite effect. 

“I take your silence to mean. I’m right? I mean, really, I’m flattered.”

“Enough,” he took a moment to think and scanned your face, “I think we can come up with an arrangement.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious to hear what he had to say. 

“We get together once, get rid of any pent-up feelings, and never speak about it again.”

You thought it over. “Okay. Deal.” You reached your hand out for him to shake. He grabbed it and pulled your arm, dragging you forward. Your lips crashed into his, and you pulled away. 

“Not now.”

“Yes, now.” He kissed you again. You didn’t think Raymond would be the needy type but right now he kissed you like he had been wanting to for years. That softness didn’t last long because he was bending you over your desk soon after. 

He draped your coat over one side of your body and yanked down your pants, then he ripped your underwear off you. He pocketed the ripped fabric.

“Hey, you do not get to keep that.”

He spat venom, “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

He shoved his cock inside of you, not caring if you were wet enough. You gave him a side eye as you adjusted to his size, “Actually, I do. That’s exactly my job. You follow my orders.”

He fucked you harder, grabbing your neck and pulling you against him. A slap echoed in the office. He spanked you so hard that you turned red on his first try. He was angry. Angry at the fact you were still so cocky while you were speared on his cock. Angry that you finally got to him. 

You moaned as he hit the right spot over and over again. 

“You fuck like you’re trying to get me to submit to you.”

He was breathing hard, “I am trying.” He let go of your neck and you fell back down on the desk. 

“Try harder.” You grabbed onto the edge of the desk and he reached under your shirt, grabbed your breast, and fondled it. He pinched your nipple, and your back arched. His other hand was on your hip, anchoring himself at the place where your body hinged. 

You moaned his name as he lifted your leg, placing your knee on the desk. The new position allowed him to go deeper. You shrieked. Your panting and moaning was the fuel he needed to cum. He pulled out of you and brought you down on your knees.

“Open.” He slapped you lazily; he just wanted you to obey. You went a step further and put him in your mouth, sucking and licking around the tip. He moaned as he spilled into your mouth. He pulled out and a drop of cum fell from the side of your mouth. He wiped it with his thumb and shoved the digit in your mouth. 

You stood up as he put himself back in his pants. You pulled up your pants and returned to your desk chair. You sat down and watched him as he fixed his coat and ran a hand through his hair. 

He turned to leave but turned back around to try and have the final word, “Never again.”

When he reached the door you spoke up. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. I didn’t finish.”

His jaw clenched and he swallowed the lump in his throat. Filled with indignation, he walked out not bothering to look back at you. The last thing he wanted to do was see the smug look on your face. 

Taglist:

@devotedlyshadowytheorist, @dxnger-dxys, @tommyshelbywhore, @quinnlilias,@madnessandobsession, @mvpr-moon, @nela-cutie, @faebirdie, @charmed-asylum, @anasanthology, @ilikefictionalmen, @akanne-aka, @no-fooking-fighting,@queenofstresss, @flwrs4aust, @eleanorthemo, @ilovepeoplesdads

(If something is up with your tag or you would like to be added, let me know!)

[annab-nana]

reminders of him - eddie munson

summary: it's your first night in your own room after all that happened. you're all alone, freshly showered, and ready for bed. but, sleep doesn't come to you as easily as you'd hoped. the only thing that fills your head is him.

warnings: mentions of death, vecna (pre, during, and post), trouble falling asleep, hella angst, fluff, pet names (pretty girl, my girl, my daring enchantress—this is eddie we're talking about, baby, sweetheart, sweet girl), making out, removal of clothes, allusion to smut (probably the closest i've ever gotten to truly writing it tbh), eddie being the best boyfriend, eddie's death unfortunately, proofread once

a/n: idk why i was in a heartbreaking mood when writing this, but for my angst lovers, this is for you. also this is kinda inspired by the song ceilings by lizzy mcalpine

word count: 6.9k+

❀ masterlist ❀

your sheets smelled of fresh cotton when you finally got the chance to fall into them, the scent filling your nostrils and bringing a wave of comfort over yourself that you hadn't felt in several days. it felt like it had been months. maybe even years. 

since it happened, you hadn't had a true chance to just be. between spending your time at max's bedside with the sinclairs, helping out hawkins citizens at the school with steve, dustin, and robin, and just making sure everyone else was okay, you let your own needs get lost in the mix and you were exceedingly exhausted. 

being in the shower felt nice. the near-sizzling droplets pelting your sore muscles forced them to loosen up from the constant tension they'd endured since chrissy died. 

chrissy.

your eyes screwed shut as the memory resurfaced and you tried to rid your mind of it by giving it a light shake. your attempts were mostly futile, so you resorted to focusing on something else: getting some sleep somewhere other than a ridiculously uncomfortable hospital chair and steve harrington's couch. 

once you had settled and pulled the blanket up to your chest, you turned from your side to lie on your back and closed your eyes. just when you finally let them shut, you could only see flashes of what happened while you were down there and opened them again. since you couldn't make yourself fall asleep, you'd just have to wait it out until your body fell asleep naturally like you had been doing. 

staring up after so long made you realize how much you despise popcorn ceilings. but at least you could make your own constellations out of the small hills that coated it to pass the time. 

huffing in annoyance at your inability to go to sleep, you turned back onto your side and take in the small details of your room. down by your desk legs were your favorite pair of yellow converse and a small yet sad smile pulled at your lips at the memory that flooded your mind. 

you were wearing them when you met him. 

"shit, shit, shit. you stupid piece of shit! don't do this to me now," you grumbled at the vehicle. you were almost home. you had just made it to hawkins. why did your car have to crap out on you now?

pulled over on the side of the road maybe a half mile away from the 'welcome to hawkins' sign, you turned the key over again only to hear a nasty sputtering coming from under the hood. you stopped, not wanting to make whatever the issue was any worse, and leaned your head against the steering wheel for a moment. 

a short, exasperated, "fuck," fell from your lips before you lifted your head to look outside. the rain seemed to pick up even harder, almost tauntingly. you wanted to cry but felt like it'd be a waste of time at this point. you'd left your umbrella in your bedroom too so you'd have to brace this weather all on your own. 

taking in a short inhale to calm your nerves, you placed your keys in your pocket and got out to begin the trek to the nearest phone booth just past the trailer park. you just hoped no weirdos found you on your way. 

"hey!" someone called when you walked past some of the trailers. you were going to pretend like you didn't even hear the person shouting for you, but the voice sounded somewhat familiar. you turned at the sound of the footsteps jogging to approach you. 

"yeah?" you asked, seeing none other than eddie munson stopping in front of you. you knew of the boy. he was the one a lot of the jocks liked to pick on, but you admired how he ignored them and kept on being him. 

"what are you doing walking out here in the rain?" he inquired, brows pulled together in what seemed like concern for you. "are you okay?"

the rainwater that hit his head made his usually unruly curly mess of locks a bit tamer and for some reason, whether it be his caring nature or the rain drawing your attention to his features, your stomach felt fluttery. eddie munson, leader of hellfire, three-time senior, was making butterflies fly around in your tummy. 

"my car broke down and i need a phone."

"you are welcome to come inside and use mine," he offered as a water drop fell from the bangs that were stuck to his forehead down his nose, and then down to the ground. why have you never noticed how cute he was until now?

"okay."

you let your eyes fall down to your shoes which were no doubt housing their own little ponds with how much water had filled them on the walk thus far. you could feel the water slosh around with each step you took as you followed eddie back to his trailer.

"let me get you a towel," he told you once you were inside before disappearing into one of the rooms—the bathroom, you assumed—down the hall and coming out with a large towel. "here," he spoke softly when he stepped closer to you to wrap the towel around your shoulders. after running his hands over the towel to make sure it was in place, he gave you a short grin before leading you to the phone. 

once he saw you put the phone to your ear, he left the room to give you some privacy while the sound of the line ringing was heard on your end. in curiosity, you glanced around the place and took in the details. eddie or whoever he lived with was very seriously into mugs. the messiness was definitely eddie's doing though. 

while the ringing continued, you heard a thud come from the room eddie went in followed by an, "oh shit." 

you rolled your eyes and giggled until the line went dead. when you tried again, you got the same result. 

"fuck." 

eddie reentered the room, his hair looking a little drier and messier. "everything alright?"

"no one answered," you said after turning to face him. you pulled the edges of the towel closer around your body for some warmth and leaned against the wall behind you. 

"oh," eddie started before you watched an idea pop into his head, "you could stay here if you want or i could drive you home."

the sound of the rain pelting the roof grew louder and louder by the second, enough to make both you and eddie look up to the ceiling as if the raindrops would pierce through the roof. the flash of light that came from the window and the roar of thunder that followed it seemed to mock you even further as you deflated. 

your eyes came back down to meet his. "i can't make you drive in this weather."

"i can't let you walk home in this weather," he added to his point. 

"then, i guess i'll stay."

within the moments that followed, eddie had given you the grand munson trailer tour—all you had left to see was the bathroom and his bedroom really—a fresh set of clothes to change into that he had tossed in the dryer for a second to warm up for you, set your shoes up in front of a box fan to dry, placed your previous clothes in the dryer, and turned the heater on so you'd be warm in his room since he refused to let you sleep on the couch. 

"you all good?" he asked from the doorway where he stood. 

"yes, eddie. you've done more than enough. you don't have to worry about me anymore. thank you," you told him honestly. you had expressed your gratitude to him so much tonight, but the boy just kept on giving. why he was so widely hated on at your school was mind blowing to you now that you had experienced firsthand just how nice he was. 

the boy wore a bashful grin before he spoke again. "you know, i've dabbled in some mechanic work over the past few summers so if you want, i could take a look at your car in the morning to see if i can figure out the issue."

"no, eddie. you don't have to," you began to protest. "you've already done so much for me. i can get it fixed on my own, though i appreciate the offer."

"can't a man want to help a pretty girl every once in a while?" he stated, not realizing the effect the pet name had on you. "come on, let me do it. i haven't been able to get my hands dirty in so long and i miss it. it's a win-win for both of us."

as you had learned progressively throughout the night, he was damn near impossible to say no to, so once again, you caved. 

"okay." his excitement over the seemingly small matter was cute. 

his smile made it all worth it. 

you'd give anything to go back to that night now. what had started as an incredibly shitty night ended up being not so bad. 

you just don't know what you'd do if given the opportunity. 

would you have ignored him to begin with as you had originally planned to save yourself the heartache? or would you take in every moment even more since you know now how the story ends?

before you can think on it too long, your eyes shift from the shoes to your nightstand, more so to the paper circle that sits next to your lamp before you lean over to pick it up. 

fiddling with the object, you thought back to the night you received it. 

your first date.

"what's with us and rainy nights?" you commented as you watched the rain pick up outside the diner window. this wasn't like the rain from a couple of weeks ago though. this was much softer, more ambient than agressive. 

he hummed in thought for a moment, eyes still trained on the straw paper between his fingertips. "i don't know," eddie spoke thoughtfully. it was an odd coincidence, but he was too focused on his creation. 

you leaned forward against the table. "whatcha makin' over there, munson?"

"none of your business, y/l/n," he retorted playfully while moving his hands under the table to continue his work in private. his eyes lifted to meet yours with a smile on his lips. you couldn't help but return his grin. 

while recounting another silly memory of your coworkers, steve and robin, from your shift yesterday to eddie, you fiddled with your own straw paper, tying it in multiple knots until the sheen on a silver pig came into view. his ringed hand laid over yours to hold it gently. 

the man had all of your attention and your interest was piqued. based on what you knew solely about eddie before you two became closer was that he was full of surprises and with the budding relationship between you two, that very fact had been further cemented. 

he turned his hand that held yours so that your palms were facing each other. he had singled out your ring finger and brought his other hand to it, sliding on the paper ring he had made for you. his fingers situated it so that the knot he'd constructed to resemble a gem was placed in the center before he looked up at you. 

"for you, my daring enchantress," he muttered, still holding your hand in his. you were so focused on the warmth that was spreading throughout your entire body at his sweet actions that you almost missed his nickname for you. 

"daring?" you inquired, eyebrow raised when you met his eyes. 

"of course," he stated matter-of-factly as if there was no other way he'd view you other than that. "it takes guts to go on journeys in the dead of night while a mighty storm barrels on."

you loved how he'd get into storytelling mode, the cadence of his voice rising up and falling down with the swells and dips of the narrative. you let your head rest on your other hand, ready to sit and listen to how his story continued in awe. 

"i'm lucky i had a charming knight in shining leather looking out for me that night," you added with a smile. eddie shared a bashful grin with youu before his eyes fell down to your joined hands, seemingly wanting to avoid eye contact with you. 

"i'm not sure if it was luck," he mumbled mildly, playing with the paper ring on your finger in a nervous manner. "at least on your end anyway."

in an instant, your heart moves from feeling fluttery to feeling tight. 

you flipped your hand to hold his and brought your other to lay on top of them. 

"hey," you called in hopes he'd look up at you. he did. "i guess i haven't made it very clear, but i will now. i like you, eddie. i'm kinda glad that piece of shit car broke down because if it hadn't, i would've only gotten to see you in passing at school, not really know you like i'm getting to do now. trudging in the rain and having the worst cold known to man the week after is something i'd do again if it'd get me here with you."

you relish in the way he perks up at your words. with the way he radiated confidence, you were kind of surprised to see him be a bit vulnerable and insecure, but you were ready to squash it and build him back up again. 

these past few weeks you'd known eddie had been the best you'd had in a while. you weren't trying to give that up any time soon. 

"alright," eddie sighed, leaning back in his seat, "i've gotta get you home. i'd hate to be on your parents' bad side before i've even met them." 

the fluttery feeling returned at the thought of eddie being in your life long enough to meet your parents. 

as much as you didn't want to leave, you knew that you had to. your curfew was at ten-thirty and it was currently fifteen minutes until then. after eddie paid—he insisted on it for the first date—led you to his van, opened the door for you, and drove you home, you two sat outside of your house for the last five minutes, continuing the conversation you'd been having on the ride over. 

the clock reads 10:28 and you both know that you'll have to leave soon. the thing is that you really don't want to. you want to sit in eddie's passenger seat while his iron maiden cassette plays lowly in the background so you both can still hear each other when you talk. 

you think eddie feels the same as you do when you meet his eye across the seat. after your eyes made that connection, it was like there was a magnetic pull between you two. 

you scooted closer first, eddie soon to follow. his hand traveled up your arm to rest behind your neck while his other found your waist. your hands came to cradle his face and jacket and all it took was one look. one look that the two of you shared that let the other know that you wanted this desperately before your lips met his. 

you remembered feeling on cloud nine that night. you'd fallen into the bed you lay on now, feeling giggly and warm all over. 

you'd felt like the girls in movies you used to make fun of for acting like idiots after having any sort of encounter with the guy of their dreams. the ones who just had their first kiss with the guy they were in love with who couldn't wipe the stupid smile off their face and fell asleep dreaming of the moment over and over again. 

you stretched to put the paper ring back on the bedside table and recoiled back to your laying position. sleep was gaining on you, but it wasn't quite there yet. 

rolling back over onto your back, you grumbled lightly at your aggravation toward not being able to fall asleep. taking in a deep breath, you swore you could still smell the faint scent of weed from him. you wished he was here now to help you go to sleep. you always slept better in his arms. 

you glanced to your left and attempted to imagine him there next to you like he was the first time he ever laid in your bed. 

your parents were out for the weekend so obviously, eddie was staying over. 

you didn't know what it was about him today, but you felt like you were ten times more in love with him than you were yesterday. it was probably the confession of love you two shared moments prior that led to the heated makeout session you two engaged in now. 

it was a mess of lips, teeth, and tongue as you moved backward, letting eddie lead you to your bedroom. you weren't sure how you didn't bump into every wall and surface on your way in, but eddie was skilled at maneuvering you both while still giving your mouth the attention it deserved. 

the back of your legs felt your mattress while your hands helped eddie's pull off his jacket and vest, leaving his top covered in his hellfire shirt. you gripped onto his shoulders and hair, not missing how he groaned when you unintentionally pulled on it. he felt the way your lips pulled into a smirk against his own and knew you were going to pull out that trick later on. 

using one arm to hold you to him by your waist, he used his other to brace you both while he laid down with you on your bed. 

"fuck," he muttered into your mouth, "i fuckin' love you, baby." 

you giggled into the kiss in response until his lips moved to your jaw. 

"i love you so much, eddie," you spoke in a breathy voice as you tried to get your mind back on track, but it was hard. you felt like you'd touched a live wire in the best way possible. "so much." 

eddie's lips had made their way just below your ear and he started to suck on a particularly sensitive spot. 

"oh shit," you breathed out blissfully. your fingers had scrunched up the material of his shirt to hold onto it before they moved down to the hem. "fuck, eddie. can i?"

he knew what you were asking for when he felt you tug at the end of the fabric and he was more than happy to oblige. 

"please."

you wasted no time in ridding the boy of the club t-shirt and letting your eyes take in some of your favorite parts of him. his softness, both in his personality and physicality, was something that drew you to him from the beginning. 

your hands ran down his gentle sides and up his back, taking in every bit of him. you adored the inked drawings on his skin and there was no way you weren't feeling dizzy at the sight of the trail of hair that went from below his navel and disappeared into his jeans. 

"eddie," you whined as he continued his assault on your neck. you were definitely going to have to put in some work to make sure the marks he was leaving behind weren't visible to the naked eye when your parents got back. 

"yeah, sweetheart?" he called to you, his voice so sultry and smooth. his eyes bored into yours when he lifted his head up to gaze at you. you'd never felt so nervous yet so at ease. 

"i want more."

while eddie was delighted to hear it, he had to be sure. "positive?"

"please," you basically begged and the sound had eddie diving back down to kiss your lips until they were numb. 

"can i take your shirt off?" he started, wanting to take it slow. 

you, on the other hand, were too eager to feel him. you grabbed his hands in yours and led them to the bottom of your top, telling him without words to take it off. once he'd gotten it off, you made quick work to begin unbuttoning his pants. 

"this is okay, right?" you inquired quickly. you wouldn't have started if you thought he wasn't okay with it, but you wanted to double-check. 

"go right ahead, sweet girl. as long as i can take off this." his finger ran under the strap of your bra. your nod and continued work on his jeans answered his request so his hands slipped beneath you to fiddle with the hooks. 

after that, it was a mixture of soft kisses, joined hands, whispers of love, pleasurable touches, linked bodies, and breathlessness. 

once all was said and done, you curled into eddie's side, hearing his heartbeat under your ear. his ringed fingers ran up and down your bare back as he cherished the skin-to-skin contact and this moment with you. he had never felt for someone as he did for you and he'd hate for anything to tear you two apart. 

"eddie?" your small voice broke the boy from his thoughts. 

he pressed a small kiss to the top of your head before speaking up. "yeah?"

"please don't ever leave me," you mumbled into his skin, your arms tightening around him. it was lovely to be able to lay like this with him. you just didn't want it to ever end. 

he gave you a small squeeze and lifted your face to meet his. "i would never ever leave my girl."

you were starting to get pissed with yourself. why couldn't you just fall asleep? 

you sat up and glanced over to your bag, contemplating whether you should pack your bag and go somewhere else. maybe to steve's or robin's or if you waited long enough, you could wait for visiting hours to open up at the hospital and go see max. you never had this much trouble falling asleep at any of those places. 

there were just too many reminders of him here and you couldn't fall asleep. when someone else was around, you could be distracted, but alone with yourself and your thoughts, sleep was proving to be a major obstacle. 

slipping on some shorts and shoes, you walked out to your kitchen to dial steve's number. as you placed the phone between your ear and shoulder, you reached down to fix your shoelaces and caught a glimpse of the braided leather bracelet that circled your wrist currently. it had only been there for maybe twenty days at this point. 

"i'm just saying. it's the cult of vecna. you can't miss it," eddie whined while pulling up to the school. 

"you know i wouldn't miss it for the world if i hadn't already promised lucas, robin, and steve that i'd be at this game. it's the championship game, eddie," you shared with him even though he's known that for ages. it didn't mean he wasn't going to pout about it though. 

dramatically, he threw his head back to hit the headrest after he parked, his hair moving wildly with his movements. 

"stop it, you're going to make me feel bad," you told him once you situated yourself to turn and face him. 

his eyes were screwed shut to add to the theatrics, but he popped one open to peek at you. his ridiculous behavior elicited a giggle from you and the sound alone was enough to make him drop the act and soften. 

"fine, you're off the hook, but you have to give me a good luck kiss before you go."

you playfully scoffed. "like i would've let you leave without one."

you leaned up onto your knees and let your hands cup his face before your lips pressed against his. he gripped at your sides while trying to hold you close to him. he didn't want to let you go, but he was overly excited for hellfire tonight. 

"just remember," he started, breaking away for a moment before diving back in, "i've got a deal tonight." another kiss. "but after that." he pulled you into his lap, a leg on either side of his thighs as you straddled him. "i'm all yours, baby."

you broke away for the sole reason of oxygen deprivation and took the moment to admire him with his messy hair, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips. a finger of yours came up to twirl a dark curled strand. 

"promise?"

"i'll call you before i leave my house to head to yours," eddie shared, eyes watching you in adoration. he swore he could sit and observe you for hours on end if you let him. 

he felt you try to move off of him to head inside, but his grip on your waist held you where you were. 

"wait a second." confused, you watched him with a raised brow as he fiddled with one of the bracelets on his wrist. he'd taken off the leather one—it was the first piece of jewelry of his that you'd complimented—and began to wrap it around your wrist. "been meaning to give you this for a while now. i think it suits you better than me anyway," he spoke cooly like this wasn't a big deal though you both knew it was. 

you just rolled your eyes and kissed his lips again. 

"hellooo?" you heard steve's voice repeat into the phone. it took you a second to get out of your head and realize he'd spoken three times before you finally responded. 

"sorry. uh, it's me, y/n. did i wake you?"

you could hear in his voice that you did, but he wasn't going to let you know that. 

"oh no, i was just watching a movie," he fibbed. "what's up?"

"can't sleep," you started before looking back down at the bracelet. "i don't know if i can be here. it's a little too much, you know?"

steve understood. he always did.

"you know you're more than welcome to come over here."

a light smile pulled at your lips as you nodded though he couldn't see it. "thank you."

"no problem. i'll turn on the porch light."

you would never not be proud of who steve was now. he was almost like a completely different person compared to how he was a few years ago. and now that you know more of what he had endured in those few years, you respected and felt for him even more. 

when you found out about it all was probably the most stressful day in your entire life. 

"what if he's not here?" robin inquired, flashlight shining against the door of reefer rick's house. 

"he has to be," you responded sharply. you wouldn't know what to do if he wasn't so there was no other option in your mind. eddie had to be here.

"could he be in there?" max called over to you guys. steve got dustin to stop yelling into the house—for one of the smartest people in your group, he sure did some dumb things—and followed you and robin to the redhead. 

her light pointed to a secluded boathouse which was the perfect place to hide in your opinion. you could only hope eddie thought the same thing. 

once inside, you all split to look around. you, max, and robin found some food wrappers that looked to be pretty recent given their lack of dusty coating while the boys bickered and prodded some tarp with an oar. 

you, entirely fed up with the entire situation of your love being missing and hunted in addition to steve and dustin's constant squabbling, walked over and took the oar from steve's hands. both steve and dustin were staring at you in wonder. 

neither of them had ever seen you so angry. 

"you two need to get it together. eddie is missing. you hear me? missing. he's gone. so i don't have time for all this silly shit. so, stop being pussies and lift the damn tarp like a man." you punctuated your sentence by handing steve the oar back and lifting the tarp yourself. 

only you didn't get to look at what was inside before you were pushed against the wall, broken glass held to your neck. but that isn't what you were focused on. 

no, your eyes were locked on the ones you called home which were now filled with so much fear that it broke your heart in two. his next question only finalized that break. 

"are you real?"

you softened immediately as tears pooled in your eyes. 

"are you my charming knight in shining leather?" that was all eddie needed before he wrapped you tightly in his arms. you reciprocated, hands clutching at his jacket as you held him close. 

ever since you saw his trailer in the background of the news this morning, you'd been terrified not only for him but of what he could've ended up in. max shared with you guys what chrissy's body looked like on eddie's living room floor and you were afraid he was in the same state somewhere else. and if he wasn't dead at the hands of whoever killed chrissy, you were scared he'd gotten caught by someone else who wasn't going to think twice about putting a bullet in his head or beating him unconscious. 

but he wasn't hurt in any way physically that you could tell. mentally was another story but physically, he was safe and in your arms and you were flooded with relief. 

you pulled your face away from where you'd buried it in the crook of his neck to get a good look at him. the cool, wet lines you felt on your cheeks let you know you'd been crying. 

"you are okay, right?"

he nodded. "yeah, but chrissy…"

"you don't have to talk about it. we know."

this time, he shook his head. "no. no, you don't." you hated how his lower lip trembled. "and you wouldn't believe me if i told you what happened. no one would."

max spoke up confidently. "try us."

that was when you learned all about what steve, robin, and the kids had endured over the past few years and what eddie had gone through the previous night. and now as you reached for your keys on the hook, the bracelet eddie had given you slipped down your wrist a bit, revealing the imprinted memory of the bats that tried to kill you when you were down there. 

you ignored the thought as you took the keys and made your way to your car.

you hadn't driven it since the day everything happened. everything that you'd had nightmares about. everything you never wished upon anyone, even your greatest enemies. 

"eddie!" you and dustin both shouted at the boy. he'd started up the makeshift rope—sheets and pillowcases that dustin had tied together previously—but then he backed down. 

"what are you doing?" dustin inquired, but you knew deep down what decision he was making. he had talked the whole time since chrissy died about how he always ran away when disaster struck and was really beating himself up about it. he wasn't going to do it this time. he was going back in. 

"eddie, no! stop!" dustin continued to shout. you were already climbing back up the rope as eddie kicked away the mattress on his side. 

"i'm buying more time," he filled you two in. his eyes locked with yours when he muttered a short, "i'm sorry," before slashing the rope and running out of the trailer in the upside down. 

he didn't even see that you'd caught yourself by holding onto the edge of the opening. 

"dustin, push me up," you ordered, swinging your feet for him to use to propel you into the other dimension. you weren't going to fight eddie on not running away this time, but you'd be damned if you were going to be by his side as he did. 

the fifteen-year-old wasted no time in coming to your aid. he'd learned over the course of the past few days that you meant business especially when it came to eddie. 

you'd manuvered yourself to have most of your body in the upside down and your head in the original dimension. you looked to dustin one last time. 

"you stay here, alright? we have this. you just wait here."

for you, it wasn't a request. you were telling him what to do before you worked on lowering yourself gently onto the ground. there was a little sting that shot up your leg when you landed, but it was easy to ignore. once you checked to make sure you had your spear and shield, you were out and running after eddie who was biking away followed by a demobat swarm. 

it was hard to get close to him considering you were on foot and he was biking as hard as he could, but then, he stopped and so did your heart. 

"no," you mumbled to yourself before trying to gain some speed. "eddie!"

he couldn't hear you. you knew that, but you were desperate. you couldn't lose him. you knew he wouldn't be able to stay in hawkins after everything, but you were prepared to follow him wherever. he was your everything. you felt like you were nothing without him. 

as your feet led you to him, you watched him stab and swing at the bats that circled around him like a tornado. he managed to get some of them, but he was far too outnumbered and they used that to their advantage. quickly, they had him restrained with their tails and attacked at his sides. the sound of his screams pained you to hear. 

when you finally did reach him, all the bats had dropped to the ground, seemingly unconscious. you would've been more curious about the miracle that was if you weren't so worried about eddie. 

"eddie, eddie," you called out when you reached his side. sitting down next to him, you pulled his head into your lap and ran a hand over his bandana. the sight of him in this state made you feel nauseous. "oh god, eddie."

"bad, huh?" your teary eyes snapped up to his and you shook your head. 

"no," your voice betrayed you with a quiver, "you're gonna be fine." he didn't believe you one bit, but he liked to hold onto your hope for him. "we just gotta get you to a hospital, okay?"

he gave you the faintest of nods. "okay."

"you gotta help me a little bit," you told him when you tried to pull him up, "come on."

"i think i just… i think i just need a second, okay?" while you didn't have the time to waste, you didn't want to make him hurt more than he already was. you just hoped steve, robin, and nancy would be back soon to help you get him home. 

"okay." eddie coughed a little before his equally teary eyes met yours. 

"i didn't run away this time, right?"

that elicited a sob from your body while you shook your head. "no, no, no." your fingers pushed any stray or straggling hairs away from his face. "you didn't run."

"you're gonna have to keep an eye out for those little sheep of mine for me, okay?"

"eddie," you sighed. 

you didn't like how he was talking like this was the end for him. it wasn't. you couldn't let that happen. you could save him. you just had to get him out of here. where the hell are steve, nancy, and robin? just one of them should be enough to help you. 

"say it," he started, "please."

"i-" you took in a shaky breath and squeezed your eyes shut. "i'll look after them."

"good. we're gonna graduate together, you know? and then, we're gonna get the hell out of hawkins, find a place together, i'll do my own thing with music and you can do whatever you want to with your gap year before you go to school. i think it's finally my year, our year."

you listened intently while the tears continued to endlessly stream down your cheeks.

"you know i was gonna marry you."

you sobbed before speaking. "you still can."

eddie smiled and reached up to run his thumb across your cheek, pushing your tears to the side. it was useless. they were replaced as soon as he moved the old ones. 

"i love you so much, my daring enchantress." you let out a tearful laugh at the name you hadn't heard since your first date. you tried not to think about how this was probably the last time you'd ever hear him say those words again. 

"i love you too, my hero." earlier, eddie had mentioned how he wasn't a hero, but his actions refuted that. he was a hero and no one would ever truly know the extent of it. 

eddie's lips pulled up into a small smile before he started to cough again. 

"eddie…" you whispered, watching his coughs turn into him choking. he stopped a short moment later and dread filled your stomach when he stopped moving. "eddie?"

he didn't respond, only continued to stare blankly at you. 

"eddie? eddie! eddie, no! eddie, please! eddie," you continued as you shook his body gently. 

he couldn't leave you. he couldn't. not yet. not ever. you needed him. your hands cupped his cheeks while your eyes searched his eyes for any movement. 

he remained still. 

"no," you stated, sobs and cries spilling from your lips. leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his forehead as a final goodbye before mumbling against his sweaty skin, "i'm sorry. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry, eddie."

you didn't even know what you were apologizing for, but you were certain there was more you could've done to prevent this. 

you pulled into steve's driveway and turned off the engine. looking down to take off your seatbelt, you noticed how your shirt was wet before bringing your hands to your face, your fingertips coming back with water on them as well. 

you hadn't cried about it since you left the upside down. in your mind, it still didn't feel real. but when you looked over to the passenger seat and saw the guitar pick necklace you'd taken with you when you came back peeking out from below your bookbag, it really hit you. 

eddie should be here. he should be here with you. he should be here, holding you while you cry, not being the source of your tears. he doesn't exist anymore and that thought alone is so difficult for you to fathom. it was finally setting in and you hated it. 

sobs filled the car as that deep pain in your chest you felt when he died in your arms returned. you wished you'd never gone into his trailer on that rainy night. you wished you'd never agreed to go with him to the diner. you wished you never let him in as much as you did. you wished he was only the town freak to you, not your soulmate. 

your hands came up to your chest, trying to lessen the pain you felt, but it was no use. it only increased and it became harder to breathe. the worst part was that the one person you wanted wasn't here anymore and that just made it hurt worse. 

you didn't even notice that your car door had opened until you felt someone's hands on you. in any other situation, you would've freaked out, but they handled you with such care and you'd recognize the watch on his wrist anywhere. 

"hey, hey, look at me. breathe with me," steve's voice broke through your thoughts momentarily. he'd turned your body to face him where he was crouched down in front of you. 

once you had calmed a little, you felt yourself getting all worked up again and your face crumbled when your thoughts resurfaced. 

"steve, he's gone. not like he'll be back, gone forever," you sobbed. steve's hands held yours as he attempted to soothe you. he knew this was inevitable, that everything would hit you like a ton of bricks, and that you'd be in shambles. that didn't mean he knew exactly how to help you though. 

the closest he had ever felt to this kind of heartache was nancy breaking his heart, but nancy was still alive and there was a small possibility of them rekindling their old relationship. that was nowhere near what you were experiencing. 

not only did eddie die, but you had to watch it. you had to watch the life leave his eyes, unable to do anything about it. you had to do this all while experiencing the upside down's worst for the first time. you didn't deserve this. no one did. 

you were hurting deeply and all steve had to offer was support and comfort. 

"come here," he whispered and you were quick to close the space between you to wrap your arms around him. he didn't feel as good as eddie nor did his smell put you at ease as much as eddie's. but you had to learn that eddie wasn't here. he wasn't coming back. it was just going to be you and your friends. 

you didn't know how you were going to live in a world without your charming knight in shining leather.

but, you'd have to find a way.

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[eluminium]

SKIZZ WEEK 5!!! THE GRIND CONTINIUES!!!

How the fuck did this one GET SO LONG????? AND HOW DID I FINISH IT IN TIME??? IT'S A MIRACLE!!!! I probably won't be able to finish day 6 on time due to LIFE STUFF but TRUST ME I AM GOING TO GET THE DAYS I MISSED DONE.

As always: @skizzlemanweek is the goat for giving us all these prompts!

Prompt 5: Stars/Hearts

-

A serene desert night. Something surprisingly rare, but more common in solo worlds. The hostile mobs keep away while the passive and neutral have long since fallen asleep. Out in the endless dunes, nothing moves. A true quiet.

That quiet swiftly comes to an end when a man with tussled black and grey hair crawls out of his tent. A simple t-shirt and a pair of loose shorts cover his scarred body, very unlike his usual outfit of choice. In his grip is a ridiculously large bath towel and a thicker blanket as well as a lantern. His feet are bare of any dress, and he relishes the feeling of sand brushing against them. What he likes less is the sudden chill graciously given to him by the desert’s nightly winds. He quickly ties the blanket around him like a cape. 

“Brrrr! I’m freezing my butt off! Kevin! Come out here!” He calls into the night. The previously still as a coffin tent bursts into activity as a “Woof!” erupts out of it. A medium-sized reddish-brown dog leaps out and bounces over to the man’s side. His tail wags like a metronome on steroids.  

The man's hearty laugh soars over the desert dunes as he leans down to give his dog some TLC. “Who’s my big puppy? Who’s my favorite in the whole wide world? Who’s my Kevin Bubbles Malone Jimmy Madeye Dugan? Yes, you are! You are!” He coos as Kevin rolls around and coats his fur in sand. When the man stands back up, Kevin copies him. The dog takes a few steps before-

“No, boy, don’t!” He borderline begs, but it’s too late. Sand goes flying everywhere as Kevin rids himself of the coarse and itchy feeling. 

“Augh! Bubbles! Bad dog! Now I got sand in my jibblets!” He pouts while trying to brush said sand off. Kevin tilts his head but otherwise continues to pant at him. 

He sighs with frustration and fondness as he walks away from the tent. "I can't be mad at you for long, it's not fair" He grumbles as Kevin walks attentively by his side, sniffing the air in search of any stray mobs who would dare to show their faces. But the desert is still quiet. Only the steps of the man and his dog as well as the lonely winds echo through the landscape. They keep walking with a clear goal in mind, each step intentional.

Until the man spots his destination in the distance. A giant vaguely circular glass donut-looking thing. The moonlight reflects beautifully off its slightly wonky surface, casting the area around it in an ethereal glow. With a cheer the man breaks out into a run, his loyal Kevin right behind him barking up a storm.

"Here it is, Kevin! Our overnight home!" He explains excitedly while throwing the giant towel over his shoulder so he can summon a silk touch pickaxe from his inventory. With it, he breaks just a few blocks of glass and steps inside. Kevin jumps in after with no hesitation. With everyone accounted for, the hole disappears as he refiles it. He wastes no time getting to work by spreading the massive towel over the sand. It's big enough to take up most of the ground inside the glass donut. After that, he places down a few other supplies before he unties his blanket cape.

"Sleeping under the desert stars on a clear night has been a bucket list item for a while, dude. I can't believe I'm finally doing this!" He says as he lays down on the towel. However, a cringe crosses his face when he feels the packed sand against his back. "Ouch! I thought it would be softer!" He exclaims. His solution is to wiggle his body around and create an imprint of his body into the sand. It's better...but not by much. It's good enough for now though, and he calls over Kevin who happily snuggles up to him.

With no more distractions, the man turns his eyes to the sky. And what a sight it is. A massive tapestry of light and color upon an ink-black background greets him. Hundreds if not thousands of stars scattered across the sky in an undescribable dance. The moon, ever the overachiever, shines bright and full. The spectacle of the scene before him fills every bit of his body with childlike wonder. He almost feels out of breath, and he's just lying there!

"Woah..." He mumbles.

With a clumsy hand, he points toward six stars located near each other. "See that Kevin? That's the Pickaxe." His hand then moves towards seven new stars. "And that's the Universal Bell." For a last time, he points to a cluster. "And that's the Head of the Great Dragon."

Suddenly, a distant feeling of fear hits him. His hand falls back down to Earth, and a frown decorates his face. "We really are miniscule, huh Kevin? We're tiny, insignificant little ants in the face of the Universe. Isn't that crazy?" Maybe he's the crazy one for talking to his dog alone in the desert. Kevin, for his part, continues to snore.

"Nothing we do matters on that scale. We can create a million solo worlds, yet it won't even make a blip on the radar!" He continues, the slight fear building strength in his chest.

"It's so vast. Borderline infinite. And I'm just one player out of millions...Maybe one of them is looking up right now, thinking the same thing. Mathematically that's gotta be the case. A million's a big number, and there's probably even more than that..." This ramble has to stop if he wants to keep that existential crisis at bay. Because at this rate he's on the minecart heading to the stress station!

He sighs and refocuses his eyes on the sky. It glows back at him just as before.

"Maybe we gotta focus less on what we can influence in the big picture and more on what we can influence in the small picture." He says, trying to inject some optimism into his tone. "Maybe the only impact we really need to make is the impact on those around us. Friends, family, other loved ones..."

He looks down at his beloved canine companion sleeping next to him. A smile creeps up on his face. Even just looking at Kevin's peaceful mug makes a happiness bubble in him. He giggles to himself. "I guess you're doing great on that front, Bubbles," He pets Kevin's head carefully to not wake him up. Afterward, he looks back up in the sky. 

"I could talk to my brothers more. Maybe invite Dop, Top, and Bop to do some silly challenges together. Or I could hit up Logic and get him to show me his newest duds. Maybe Pearlie Pop can help me build something for the fun!" Yeah! Yeah, that would be delightful! That would be great!

...Except that all of them are parts of servers he has no access to. And are also very busy. Well, that takes the wind out of his sails.

"Man, this sucks!" He pouts, trying to drown the genuine pang of loneliness with overdramatic sulking. But there's no one around to find it funny. His palm falls to his face.

"Dang it, Skizz!" Now he's just back in the sad. He shakes his head, this is not a productive mindset to have while alone in the desert under the infinite sky!

"You know what? They'll invite me to Hermitcraft next season. Then I'll have all the time in the world to hang out with my buddies!" He claims dramatically to bullshit his way out of this.

Then he stops.

Impulse is being cagey lately...Gem accidentally referred to him as a Hermit...Tango seems uncharacteristically excited about season 10...

Could it be?

A part of his mind screeches on instinct. Of course not! This hasn't been the first time he thought he was gonna get invited! And him? Hermitcraft? Yeah, sure. Like that would ever happen!

But, perhaps just this once, the other parts of his mind beat back those thoughts, and he gets to indulge in the possibility. Him on Hermicraft. With his friends. His brothers. And so many new people to get to know. A happy smile settles on his face at the thought. Wouldn't that be something? To have a proper home server again? Be able to look at the sky with those he loves the most. 

With that scenario in his mind, the starry sky above him doesn't look nearly as beautifully intimidating. Because if he's with his friends, he's in the right place. His place.

Eager to quit while he's ahead and to prevent those doubting thoughts from making a comeback, he summons the final pieces of his glass donut stargazing sleep place thing. Some glass, and a pillow. The glass is quickly used to cover the ceiling so no spiders or sandstorms could ruin his nap. The pillow lands where the indent of his head is under the sand. Somehow, Kevin doesn't stir, still sleeping away peacefully. The man, now very tired, lays back down on his towel and cozied up in the thick blanket. He gives a quick kiss to his dog's head, mumbles a "good night" and passes out on the spot.

But before he sinks into the sweet comfy unconsciousness, a vague memory, almost a dream, comes to him. It's a fragment of something players can never fully remember, but they hold it dear all the same.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

[cozyenigma]

Blood Drive

Word Count- 1406

Request?- Nope!

Summary- A chance encounter has you cleaning up a mess that you didn't even make. And facing some tough pills to swallow with a certain colleague

(Vampire au? Vampire au.)

Tag List- @cookielover0001010 , @swag-droid , @watchoutforfrostbite

Warnings- Blood, hospital setting

"I'm assuming you have questions."

"No shit I've got questions! What the hell, Ed?! Just- start talking before I call the cops!"

His lips thinned. "Really? The police?"

The notion seemed ridiculous when he put it like that but it was the only thing that came to mind. Blood was still dripping off his coat and your stomach lurched at the thought of how much was there. And on the floor. And the desk.

"It- can you really blame me? You look like a serial killer!"

Edward, the bastard, just shrugged. "What good are they gonna do here?"

The thought, which was probably a fair point, still made your heart stop. You were backed into a corner. The only thing between you and the man you thought you knew was the pair of keys you held between your fingers tight enough to break skin. No one to hear your cries for help. No exits.

"You want me to just do nothing then and- what, let you drink my blood? Kill me?"

He actually scoffed at that, like you were being ridiculous, like this wasn't ripped straight out of a horror movie. When he raised his hands in the air it was more annoyance than reassurance. You could see blood on his hands. It was half dried at this point, tacky and dark, making the lines in his palms stand out. You swallowed down the nausea.

"I'm a doctor. I'm not going to kill you. And if I was- I'd have already done it. Not to mention I don't like my chances of getting rid of your body without anyone in the hospital noticing. Waste of life on both sides."

"Wha- you're saying you're not gonna kill me because it's not practical?"

"That and I genuinely don't want to kill you?"

"Don't say it like a question!"

The doctor sighed and dropped his hands. Leaning against the desk, he very nearly looks like a regular man. If it weren't for the blood clotting on his coat you wouldn't think anything was wrong.

"What do you want to know?"

You wet your lips, glanced between the door and the blood across the floor.

"Are you a vampire?"

The question seemed ridiculous as you asked but Edward nodded along anyways. "Yes, in a sense. Not like Twilight or Nosferatu nonsense, it's more… plain, I guess you could say."

"How long have you been one?"

Looking up at the ceiling, he mouthed the numbers as he counted. "Five years now? I was a doctor first so that made things… awkward."

You tried not to imagine the unfortunate patients of his who happened to have a bit too much bleeding in the ER. Keep calm, you told yourself. You adjusted your grip on the keys.

"So how do you… You act like you're above killing people but you're- here. You're a vampire who happens to also be a doctor. You've got access to loads of people. Sick, vulnerable people."

Now Edward just looks offended. "Christ, no, I don't- I don't kill my own patients. I don't kill anyone. Think about it- I've been practicing for years and someone would notice if I left a trail of bodies behind me."

"I never said you killed them." Though you were thinking it.

Huffing, he bent down and snatched up a bloody piece of plastic. Only when he held it up did you recognize it as a blood bag. It was ripped open end to end, jagged and dripping still. You wondered with some discomfort if he used his teeth to do it.

The doctor tosses it at your feet, a few flecks managing to land on your shoes.

"I have a friend or two down in the lab. Usually it's just regular blood tests. Non-emergent ones. A few tubes go missing here or there or conveniently don't have labels. It happens all the time. That's usually enough for me to get by."

You looked down at the blood bag then back to the mess he'd made. At least this time he seemed almost embarrassed. Edward crossed his arms and grimaced.

"My usual lab tech is on vacation. I thought it would be fine. It wasn't. So… I cut out the middleman this time."

"Any reason why you're wearing half of it?"

The glare he gave you then could've melted glass. "I was fine until someone decided to try and pull a prank."

In your defense it was a very, very rare occasion to catch the doctor unawares. You had no idea what he was doing exactly but that wasn't a concern. Of course when you had tried to sneak up behind him..

"How was I supposed to know you were having a bloody juice box?"

"Why else would I be down here?"

"Excuse me if my first thought when seeing a colleague isn't vampirism!"

He pinched his nose, breathing out a heavy sigh. Unfortunately that only served to smear blood even higher on his face.

"Can we please save the arguing for another time? Unless you'd like us both to be caught with this mess?"

As if this was anywhere close to being your problem. You had half a mind to tell him to figure it out himself but something made you hold your tongue. Though you rationalized it as trying to protect other people, that you didn't know what he would do if he was cornered, you couldn't quite believe it. You already had cornered him. The rest of… whatever this was could come later. Edward wasn't the kind of man to hurt someone else (at least on purpose) and he needed your help.

Even if he was a bit of a prick.

You sighed and nodded, only managing to loosen your grip on the keys after forcefully willing your fingers to do so.

"Fine. I'll get a mop. You get something that isn't- get some clean clothes. And try not to smear more blood everywhere."

He blinked, stared at you for a moment, then simply nodded and got to his feet. The guy told you to help clean this up and then has the audacity to look surprised when you do. There's an uncertain moment where he's looking at the mess, frozen in his little island of blood. Then he's carefully shucking off his shoes and stepping well away from the puddle with relatively clean socks.

The cleaning wasn't difficult as much as it was time consuming. You'd clean off one area only to find a splatter of red on another surface. Edward had somehow managed to get it on the underside of the desk.

You'd turned to get another rag, more disinfectant, just in time to catch Edward at the sink. The water was flowing but instead of actually washing his hands, he had one raised. You watched him sniff at it then, like a kid sneaking frosting from a birthday cake, he licks at the back of his bloodied hand.

Then he looked back and froze. Your rag dripped on the floor. The water kept flowing. Neither of you moved. Very deliberately, you went right back to cleaning. Edward for his part washed up in record time.

In the end, you were already exhausted with the day and he was in a borrowed pair of hospital scrubs. The two of you just looked at where the gore had been for several moments. Neither of you said much at first. What was there to say? Any small talk felt woefully out of place and you weren't quite ready to poke the proverbial elephant in the room.

Finally, Edward clears his throat. "I'll dispose of these," he hefts a bag containing his bloodied clothes and shoes. "And we won't bring this up again."

You pursed your lips but agreed nonetheless. It was, frankly, kind of a miracle no one had been questioning the loss of the blood tubes or bags yet. Part of you was certain it wasn't the last time you'd be running into this situation. Hopefully with less cleaning next time though.

All the doctor offered was a nod and a quiet word of thanks. Then he just walked away. Just like that one of the strangest encounters of your life was over. Still, there was a heavy knot in the pit of your stomach. This had happened simply because of someone going on vacation. God forbid they ever get sick or quit. You didn't doubt his restraint normally but… well, it was only a matter of time.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Six (Part 2)

Later on, I arrive home to a house that smells like butter and sugar. My dad mutters a gruff “howya” through the ajar living room door as I hang up my coat and bag on the stairs. He’s watching snooker. I pause at the door. “How’s it going?”

“Grand yeah. Good match?”

I shrug. “It was alright. Not sure I’m converted into a football lover yet.”

“Tullamore win?”

“Yep.”

“Good stuff.” 

I go through to the kitchen where my mam is cleaning, as usual, and even though it’s turned cold while autumn has blown in, she’s in a sweat, wiping her brow with her sleeve as she works the mop into the floor with a vigour. 

“Hi.” I say. “Were you baking?”

“I was. A bit of tea brack.”

“Aw, yuck.”

“Yuck yourself. It’s always the sweeties with you, chocolate this, jellies that, there’s nothing wrong with a bit of good old fashioned brack.”

“Well I don’t like sultanas. Still.” I remind her. “Do you have anything for me?”

She stops cleaning and rests her elbow on the end of the mop. “What kind of ‘thing’?”

“I dunno, something quick, I just want to grab something before I get the bus back.”

She makes an outraged sound, shaking her head as she swipes the mop across the floorboards. “Sure you’re only just home and you’re gone again!”

“Yeah I know, there’s just not much to do here, I was going to go back and sort myself out for work on Monday, like, I dunno, maybe go to the stationary shop and get new pens.”

“New pens.” She repeats, like the thought of me wanting to get them is completely ridiculous. “If you want something to do I’ll find something for you to do.”

“Well, I don’t particularly-” I begin, but she’s already had an idea, so protest is futile. 

“You’ll clean your room.” She announces, and I groan. “Mam, no, I don’t have the energy for that.”

“It’s a tip! I’m sick of going up there and having to look at the mess on the floor, you’d think that you being long moved out would mean the place’d be spotless, but no-”

“Just shut the door then and you won’t have to look.” 

“-it’s still a state, every day. The amount of stuff you have in there that’s old and doesn’t fit you, or is no use to you whatsoever. The last time I was in there I saw the shoes I got you when you were going into your junior cert year, they’ve the soles hanging off them and all. What use are five year old shoes to you now?”

I roll my eyes. “Mam…” she props the mop against the counter and starts rifling through the bottom drawer in the kitchen. She seizes a roll of bin bags and tosses them at me. I miss, and they unroll ridiculously across the tiles. As I’m bending down to pick up and re-roll it she announces. “You’re going to go up there now and get rid of everything that you don’t want anymore. Put your clothes in a bag for the charity shop. And then you’re going to dust and hoover every inch of it, and it’s going to be sparkling clean when you’re done.”

“Yeah. Alright. Fine.”

“Good woman.” She says, wielding the mop once again. “I’ll bring you up a sandwich in a while. Off you go.” 

I’d never admit it to her, but my mother is right about my room. It’s bad. It’s always been bad, and while I’ve never explicitly cared that much about how bad it is, I can’t truthfully deny that it’s unacceptable. I don’t even know where to begin. I know that under the bed is crammed with stuff, old school books, birthday cards I can never bring myself to throw away, photographs, art supplies, sketchbooks. 

The wardrobes are bursting with clothes, none of which I wear, seeing as my entire adult wardrobe lives with me in Dublin. The drawer where I pulled the Tullamore jersey from earlier has collapsed off its roller slides and lies crookedly, half of it on the floor with piles of t-shirts and mismatched pyjamas spilling out of it. A cheaply constructed wall shelf my dad put up when I was ten is bowed in the middle from the weight of the old teen magazines I used to collect and props up the broken CD player I got from uncle Sean on my first holy communion. Looking at all of it makes heat rise to my neck and my chest heave slightly in panic. I don’t even know where to begin. 

I leave the bin bags on the floor and drop to my knees amongst piles of clothes and shoes, bits of useless papers and old bags. The breath that exits me is shuddering. What’s wrong with me? Why do I let things get like this? I pick up the first thing that my hand touches; A knee length white sock that was part of my school uniform. I haven’t worn these socks in over two years. I don’t even have faith that I’ll locate the other one, and I don’t care enough about it to try. This is the first thing that goes into a bin bag. 

After this it gets increasingly easier. Gone are the mickey mouse pyjama bottoms with an unravelling seam, the stack of coloured paper, scribbled with sketches I never liked, the lid of a vanilla body spray that I used up years ago, expired mascara, a tea stained leather coaster, broken earphones, the padlock from my old locker without its corresponding key. Before too long I have cleared the floor, exposing the carpet to the light for the first time in years, probably. I’d half forgotten what colour it was. I tackle the wardrobe next. 

There’s not much that interests me in it, out of style clothes, clothes that were potentially never in style in the first place. A heaping mass of hoodies, leggings, jersey shorts with drawstring waists and t-shirts, the clothes of a girl who desired only to blend in, dreading terribly the day that somebody might comment on her outfit. All of it goes into the charity shop bag. I am ruthless. Not a single item is spared. 

Once the clothes have been cleared, I turn my attention to the suitcase and the gear bags piled at the bottom. I recall that the suitcase is broken, those wheels got me nowhere on our school tour to Paris in fourth year, and I remember how a rock from the pavement got trapped in the wheel, preventing it from spinning, but instead of fixing it and holding up the tour, I decided just to drag the bag behind me, the bottom corner of it scraping horrendously against the paths until the wheel was worn completely flat on one side. I have few good memories from that tour anyway, as for most of it Kelly was in a strop over something that happened on the ferry, and went off with girls from her new maths class instead, leaving me alone to forge an emergency friendship with a group of Polish girls who refused to speak English to me even though they were fluent. I toss the suitcase into the discard pile by the door, then grab a gear bag.

There are things still inside one of them. I’m surprised to find it heavy, so I curiously lay it at my knees and undo the zip. More clothes. Yellow swimming togs. A few pairs of ankle socks, a denim skirt. I chuckle to myself as I uncover a pair of knickers. I remember these, mint green with a decal of Ariel from The Little Mermaid on them, the most embarrassing pair of underwear I ever had, and kept until I was far too old for them. I put them straight into the bin.

The bottom of the bag is grainy with sand, and when my fingers brush over it I’m transported back to the sunshine and the smell of salty air. This is the bag I brought to the mobile home that summer three years ago. I don’t realise I’m holding my breath as I look through it until my chest starts to hurt and I force it out of me. Memories from those scorching months spring up with every old piece of clothing I draw out of it. It’s so vivid that I can practically feel the sunshine on my face. It’s like a time capsule. I’m surprised I never unpacked this bag. Was it too painful to? Was I too distracted?  

At the end is a rolled up t-shirt, soft, grey, worn. I unroll it and hold it out, letting it drape over my thighs. It isn’t mine. The label reads a mens large, and I take a sharp inhale when I realise what it is. Hadn’t I ever given this back to him? I was always sure that I had. I lay it onto the carpet in front of me and snap a picture of it on my phone. 

Opening up my messenger I attach the photo, typing a quick message. 

By any chance is this your T-Shirt?

Jude is typing…

Hole in the armpit?

I check. 

Yes. 

I was wondering what happened to that. I assumed my mom had tossed it out after doing laundry. 

Well apparently I’ve had it for 3 years. Sorry! Hope it’s not your favourite.

Omfg definitely not.

Does this mean you still have my bikini?

Your bikini?

From when we went swimming. You said you’d wash my bikini and t-shirt. It was orange with a tie in the front.

Oh. THAT bikini. I’m wearing it right now, sorry, I thought it was mine. 

I’m taking that as a no.

No, I don’t have it. Are you sure I never gave your stuff back?

Pretty sure. 

It might be at the beach house? I’ll probably go back again next summer, so I’ll look for it. 

Oh! No don’t worry, it isn’t important, I just thought it was funny. If you want this T-shirt back you can have it.

Will you personally deliver it to Berlin? 

Hardly.

Come over though. 

You want a t-shirt with a hole in it that badly?

Come with or without the t-shirt. 

My stomach does a flip. 

Is that an official invitation?

A full minute passes before he texts back, and I stare at the screen the whole time. The little typing dots appear and then disappear. 

February?

Wow, that’s far in advance. It’s October.

Yeah but there’ll be a huge birthday party for someone, it’ll be fun if you’re there. 

One of your extravagant dress up parties?

Haha. Yeah. At my friend’s. He lives in a nice apartment. Plus, flights are cheap in February.

Cheap flights? I’m sold. 

Nice. 

It feels like the conversation has come to its natural conclusion, and yet I find myself wanting more. 

How’s Berlin right now? 

Alright. 

Nothing weird or wonderful?

Nah. 

Ah, great. Good talk.

Ha. How’s Dublin?

The same.

Nice. 

Yeah, nice.

Another minute passes. I leave my phone down and go about clearing out the rest of the gear bag, more old socks, a mostly empty bottle of suncream, cheap flip flops, a coin purse with two cent in it. The phone buzzes again and I reach for it. 

Hey, could you do me a favour?

I frown. 

Yeah…? 

Will you ask Michelle for her number for me?

Your ex?

Yeah, she got a new phone ages ago and I don’t have her number anymore. I know she’s going out with that guy you work with, so if it’s no hassle would you mind? 

Yeah okay. I just don’t know her that well. 

You can tell her that I’m the one asking. She’ll know what it’s about, but if you don’t want to, I completely get it. I can find another way to get it. 

I think I’m seeing her next week, actually. We’re going to the same party, so. 

Ah, Shane’s Halloween thing?

That’s the one.

I’m sorry if it’s weird to ask.

It’s not really, it’s fine. I’ll ask her for you.

I almost type “Jen doesn’t have it?” Before quickly curling my fingers into a fist. There’s so many things I want to know but I can’t ask him anything. Even if I did, I know that he wouldn’t tell me. It’s infuriatingly secretive, like the polar opposite of Jen, who tells everyone everything.  

I really appreciate it, Evie. It’s not urgent or anything, it’d just be good to have her details. 

Do you want me to give her yours?

Yeah, that makes sense. 

Alright. 

Thanks. 

I toss my phone onto my bed and head towards the chest of drawers, preparing myself for the ancient horrors that await me there, and it’s bad, like I expected and yet I don’t really mind it anymore. It’s a bit cathartic, honestly, to dump all of this old stuff. It’s like I’m clearing space inside myself too, emptying psychic drawers to make space for something new. It’s two hours before I’m finished, and as I lie exhausted on my bed afterwards, I reach for my phone to discover one last unread message. 

You’ll have to swear you’ll visit me in Berlin, btw. I meant it when I invited you.

I grin. 

Yes, of course. We’ll make it happen. 

Nice.

Nice.

x

Beginning // Prev // Next

[foxy-eva]

Christmas Cuddles

Summary: With Emily by your side you have never felt more loved on Christmas Eve

Request by @lcvingprentjss: of course i’m gonna come and request a male reader’s first christmas with emily after not being used to having a partner love him so hard.

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x GN!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: allusions to trust issues if you squint

Word count: 850

Author’s Note: I felt more comfortable writing reader as gender neutral. I hope you still enjoy this little blurb! 

Masterlist

There was something so special about kissing Emily on a cold winter day. The heat she radiated always stood in contrast to the low temperature outside. After a long winter walk you craved her warmth, so you gladly welcomed her lips brushing gently over yours as you stood under the mistletoe she had hung over her door. 

Kissing Emily on a cold winter day had the ability to warm your soul and melt your heart. 

It hadn’t been easy to get her to trust you but even more than that, it had seemed almost impossible for you to let her into your life. Little by little she managed to let her love spill into your heart until you believed that this was real. 

Emily’s love for you was real. 

Smiling against her lips, you placed your hands around her waist to pull her closer into your embrace. She giggled at your enthusiasm and let her fingertips gently trace your cheeks. When your lungs ached for air, you pulled back to look into your girlfriend’s warm eyes. 

“I didn’t expect you to be the kind of person with a mistletoe at her door frame,” you chuckled. 

“Maybe I just wanted to have an excuse to kiss you,” she teased. 

Your lips found hers in a chaste kiss before mumbling against them, “You don’t need an excuse to do that.” 

Emily leaned back to find your eyes. “We should go inside, I have a surprise for you.”

With your fingers intertwined with hers, you followed her into her living room to find it beautifully decorated with festive lightings. Right beside her fireplace stood a ridiculously large Christmas tree with glimmering ornaments in your favorite colors. 

With the sweetest smile prominent on her face she looked at you and cooed, “I hope you like it.”

Slowly you walked around the living room to take everything in. Your heart skipped a beat or two as the lights reflected in your shimmering eyes. Overwhelmed by the realization that she had done all of this just for you, you muttered, “Emily… that’s too much.” 

Stepping closer to you, she pulled you into a tight hug and whispered, “It’s not too much. Nothing makes me happier than seeing you smile.”  

It felt like your heart might jump out of your chest at her words. Never had anyone put so much effort into making you happy. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled. “You have no idea how much this means to me.” 

The both of you got rid of your shoes and coats and found your place wrapped in a blanket in front of the Christmas tree. You found comfort in Emily’s arms and relished the sensation of her fingertips dancing over the fabric of your sweater. You shifted your position to pull her even closer against your body, not allowing any distance to be found between the two of you. 

With your head leaning against her chest you listened to the rhythmic beating of her heart and tried to match your own heart-rate with hers. You realized that ever since you met her, Emily had been relentless in showing you how much she cared for you. In that moment her heart seemed like a pacemaker for you, patiently waiting for you to chime in so you could become one with her. 

At first your breathing aligned with hers, both of your chests rising and falling at the same time. After a couple of moments had passed, your heart-rate finally got in sync with hers as well. 

Without daring to move from your position, you breathed, “I love you.” 

Emily’s fingertips wandered from your back into your hair, tenderly brushing over your head. 

“I love you more,” she answered. 

Sitting up, you locked eyes with her and dared to say, “That’s impossible.” 

“You should be smarter than to argue with me,” Emily chuckled. 

She suddenly got up from her place, making you whine at the loss of contact. 

“I almost forgot I have a present for you!” She chirped before she disappeared into another room. 

She came back with a wrapped packet in her hands and handed it to you. Without wasting any time you got rid of the paper covering your gift, revealing the ugliest Christmas sweater you had ever seen. 

“Thank you, it’s –”

“Hideous, I know,” she interrupted you before breaking out in laughter. 

You chimed into the sounds of her happiness, recalling a conversation you had with her. Apparently it was a BAU tradition to show up at Rossi’s annual Christmas party with the most ridiculous Christmas sweaters one could find. 

“So,” you began after your laughter simmered down, “does this mean I’m invited to Rossi’s party?” 

“I wouldn’t even consider going without you.” 

You were quick to change into the sweater she got you. 

Emily looked at you with the utmost adoration in her eyes. “It’s not fair how you can make such an ugly piece of clothing look so cute.”

She motioned for you to sit down beside her again while purring, “Merry Christmas, my love.”

After placing a soft kiss on her lips, you found your home inside her embrace once more, whispering, “Merry Christmas indeed.”

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[thatonebirdwrites]

Cactus, 3 and 18!

Cactus got answered in this ask. :)

For the other two, I'm going to assume it is the deep asks that get uncomfortably personal game.

3. what is your favorite way to self care?

Got answered in this ask.

18. what is something you can’t bring yourself to get rid of?

I wrote a nonfiction piece about this actually. I'll copy/paste it here. (Wrote it back in 2022.) I have redacted all names and used abbreviations for my siblings instead since I don't want to put too much personal information out there.

The Dog

Always beloved, the old, raggedy stuffed animal gathered dust atop the storage bin, its tail held together by white stitches. I sit on my bed and pick up the old husky. He used to have long white belly fur and a luxurious grey-brown back and ear curls.

One day, my youngest sister, who has down syndrome, grabbed Dog and threw him onto the newly painted basement floor. Grey paint coated his white belly. For over a month, I had tried to comb out the paint to no avail, so I took Dog with me when Dad drove us to visit Grandma.

I carried old Dog gingerly in my hands, tears in my eyes, as I entered her enclosed porch. Grandma moved to hug me, but stopped when I held out Dog.

"Å nei," she said, one of her Norsk phrases, and gently took Dog from my hands. "What happened?"

My story stumbled out in a torrent of words, some slurred into tears. She hugged me against her side.

"We'll fix it." She collected her shears and sewing kit and told me to play in the sandbox outside. I did as I was told. The sister I share a room with, AMZ, played with me, and we built cities in the sand and told stories of who lived there.

By the time my siblings and I were called indoors for dinner, Dog was clean and shaven. No hint of grey paint anywhere except on the edges of his whiskers. I folded Grandma three peace cranes that day in gratitude.

Dog held no formal name. He first appeared when I was three years old - wrapped up in red and green Christmas paper, one of the few gifts we had that year. I hugged him in delight; his fur long and soft, his eyes brown and sad, and his tail curled like a peppermint cane.

Dad asked me his name. I shouted, "Dog!" I had misunderstood the question, only meant to state what he was. A dog. But the name stuck.

The irony was not lost on my family each time I packed Dog into my suitcase. I preferred cats and held a deep fear of dogs, and yet, Dog was my prized possession. For every trip I took, Dog traveled with me.

Dog had many an alias, one being King Bryant the Third. He ruled Landra, my bed, while King Kitty - this bright garish 'cat' stuffed animal that had a different neon color for each limb - ruled Artica, AMZ's bed.

King Kitty loved to kidnap King Bryant's adopted son (named simply Son), a husky pup I'd found in a church bin and slipped into my backpack when no one was looking. King Bryant would valiantly search for the Son, often forced to answer riddles from Artica's other denizens, or would narrowly escape a deadly Care Bear Stare. King Bryant knew to never trust a Care Bear.

One adventure required him to ascend a cliff of pumice rock, which lurked at the foot of our beds. Carefully he climbed, his feet and claws scratching for purchase, until the top, where his Son sat, shivering, in the clouds. They overlooked a massive rainforest, the trees bigger than the pumice mountain, and a waterfall cascaded into a cool, turquoise lake. Vines and bushes blocked much of the forest floor from view, the sunlight barely penetrating.

King Bryant and his Son avoided the forest, neither could hold a flashlight for long without it tiring their teeth, and hopping on three legs to hold one was quite ridiculous. King Bryant refused to sully his dignity. His adopted Son didn't mind if the hopping didn't last too long, but King Kitty loved to ruin such games whenever they kidnapped the Son. The Son never seemed to mind the kidnapping; perhaps King Kitty had become a second parent by then?

King Kitty often laid traps along the paths up the pumice mountain or along the edges of Landra or Artica. One trap accidentally summoned a horror from the void. That day, King Bryant had to fight his way out of a dungeon of crotchdiggers, deadly headless and bodiless Barbie legs that spun from the darkness. One could only detect them from the wind across the hairless skin that howled through the dark. King Bryant got sliced once along his tail.

The Great Grandma Spirit would, eventually, mend his wounds (time ceases to exist for games such as this, and often I would tape the tail in place until my family could head up to Grandma's again).

King Bryant knew not who devised such dastardly creatures (my older sisters' creation one Halloween), but it was one of the few times he teamed up with King Kitty to defeat their evil. Crotchdiggers were not allowed in Landra or Artica.

The room I shared with AMZ wasn't technically a room for a child. More of a living area in the basement. The pumice wall blended into the rainforest wallpaper, and that ended where our beds began. Two dressers marked our "wall" that separated our beds from the Sega Genesis TV.

On rainy days, Dog and I would curl up in the broken beanbag chair and navigate to the music section of the options screen - the frozen levels of Sonic the Hedgehogs being the best. The pound of the rain in harmony with the 8-bit melody gave the world a surreal quality that invigorated the imagination. I always tucked my journal nearby and would dutifully record how long I played or read books from the library. Sometimes story ideas blossomed, and I'd feverishly write them down. Dog kept watch on my shoulder, in case any ghosts ventured beyond their lair which lay deep in the realm of Laundry.

Have I ever stopped bringing Dog with me on my travels?

Deep in the South, before I got sick, I carried Dog in my backpack, while I chainsawed broken branches, sledgehammered posts, mud and taped drywall, and dug forest trails. Dog witnessed it all in safety, and often slept by my head at night. When my teammates asked about him, I would laugh and say he was a great pillow. But the truth was Dog comforted me in dark times - a reminder of goodness in a life riddled with trauma and disappointment.

I look at Dog now, and truthfully, I never stopped bringing him with me. He's been to 38 states, tucked in my backpack, where he peered out through the hole I made with the zipper. Then, when I fell ill, he came to comfort me in the hospital, and guards my bed during particularly painful flare-ups.

Dog had transcended his humble origins - King Bryant the actor, Dog the pillow, and now my favorite good luck charm. I pet his head, his fur no longer soft but prickly in spots from age and countless stitches to mend yet another hole.

I position him atop a pillow on my bed, his final throne, a memory encased in fiber and cotton.

/Slutten (The End)/

Thank you for asking!! :D

[aragarna]

Please rant about the new musketeer movie, I need to know how bad it is on a scale from Michael York to Mathew McFaydden, so I know if it's worth trying to hunt down a cinema or wait till it's out on dvd

Well.... The good news is, there's no flying ship in that one. Not sure where to put it though. It's not atrocious, but it's lacking something. I'm always happy to see my boys, and the cast is good. It is rather entertaining at times, and I'm sure people not as attached to the characters as I am might not be as harsh as me but... I guess I was hoping for more? For better? Why is it that there can't be a single decent modern adaptation?!

The rest under the cut because spoilers for The Three Musketeers: d'Artagnan

First, it's visually ugly. It's all in brown and dark tones. Apparently the weather in France is always bad, ranging from pouring rain to clouds and fog. Even the red robe of the cardinal doesn't pop up! And don't get me started on the musketeer's uniforms. Why is it that every single recent movie wants to make them something that they're not. We *know* what they looked like. Blue casaques with a big white cross. Would it look out of fashion today? Of course! Even slightly ridiculous? Maybe. But Mordious, that's a 17th century uniform! Just play along! So, in this one, it becomes a very dark navy blue long coat with a black cross on the arm. It's actually so indisguishable that you can never tell when they're wearing it or not.

But okay, fine, if it was the only issue, I would have waved it off. The rest of the costumes, though probably not historically accurate, look pretty cool over all. If only they had more colors. Can you believe that there's a costumed ball, with one character wearing an arlequin costume and ... it doesn't even look like rainbow-y!

(can you tell I'm slightly mad at the movie's terrible coloring?)

And overall, I felt it wasn't very well filmed. Like, this isn't just a swashbluckler, it's The Swashbuckler story, so gotta work on those sword fights! Give me some fancy fighting! Work a real choregraphy! I understand that this is not the Errol Flynn era anymore but come on. So their idea to make it more "modern" was to use sequence-shots for the fight scenes. That is not a bad idea, but when there's no real choregraphy to follow, that just makes everything messy and pointless. So yeah, disappointed with the action scenes.

My other major source of annoyment was the lack of character development, or just character moments. D'Artagnan flirting with Constance was fine, but it's *not* the main story. It should have been the friendship between our four heroes. Instead of adding a whole new plot, I wish they'd taken the time with the canon scenes. Show me more why they went from being this close to kill each other, to instant friends ready to die for each other. Making Porthos bisexual is fine. I don't mind modernization of characters, but did you have to tell and show me this very clearly 3 times, but then give him virtually no other line of dialogue the rest of the movie? Romain Duris as Aramis is particularly awesome, but the poor guy is just as useless. The film is such a waste of a good casting. D'Artagnan, the main character, barely gets more time. Where is my ever-resourceful, cunning, smart and quick thinking hero? Young and idealistic but also natural leader d'Artagnan? His scenes with Constance are cute enough (and I don't mind that they got rid of Mr. Bonacieux) but I wanted more bonding with the boys! It's called The Three Musketeers, not My Cute Landlady. François Civil does a decent job but he isn't given the most subtle text...

Athos is the only one that is allowed a bit more development, but he's reduced to be a sappy old man. AAARGH ATHOS IS NOT AN OLD MAN. I do like Vincent Cassel, but the movie comes out 20 years too late for him to be a musketeer. Athos is not old, he is just the only vaguely grown-up one of the group. And come on "I don't have enough will to live to lie." ?! What the Hell?

All the characters feel reduced to a single dimension.

And yes, I do realize that you can't fit hundreds of pages in two 2-hour movies, but still, I feel like there were ways to make the movie better if it had been more character-oriented. The only real good character is the King. He has all the best lines and Louis Garrell is perfect.

Finally, while I don't mind when they take liberties from the original story, I'm not sure that the whole side plot actually adds anything. If you're worried about lack of plots, just develop the exisiting ones instead of rushing them in and out of England, maybe? It's Alexandre Dumas you're adapting, don't tell me there aren't enough twists in that plot!

And what annoys me about that side plot is that it starts with Athos being arrested. Which means that, from the start, they're never all four of them together. Which also means that that one supposedly emotional letter from Athos sounds a bit phony. Why would he care for that young idiot that he met only once?

Let my musketeers be all together, Morbleu!

Anyway, to try and end on a more positive note: it does remain entertaining enough that you're not bored. They filmed in real places - Le Louvre looks actually like Le Louvre - which is always a bonus. Louis XIII is awesome, and all the court intrigues are probably the best parts. And they do have a second movie coming out this December to try and make up for that one. We can expect War! Love! Tragedy! Vengeance! (and hopefully more character development?)

Sorry, that was long. All this to say: meh.

[soldier-lodbrok]

Ifalna didn't ridicule him for his worries. Even if they seemed so stupid in the face of what she had gone through. Glenn was just supposed to do the right thing now, after he had done wrong before. She had suffered from all that... and yet he needed her at his side in this moment.

Smiling slightly, he nodded. Aerith wouldn't be alone for long and they could see the windows from the phone cell. It would only take a bit...

"Alright..."

Glenn got up too, slowly collecting the discarded armour. Though he didn't put it back on again. he just laid it atop of the small cupboard by the door. He would have to get rid of it. But not here, not now. They couldn't leave even more traces. Instead he put on his red coat, that would be his new go-to now.

Going outside, Glenn waited at the end of the small staircase for Ifalna. It felt strange, to go out now. As if not even he was supposed to be here. And Glenn could tell his palms already were a little sweaty. What the fuck would he have to say...

It was so quiet outside. Already into the night, just distant voices or very few vehicles. The light around the cell was faint - and it was actually small. Too small for Glenn and Ifalna to fit in there at the same time. So Glenn just kept the door open, picking up the phone maybe a bit too roughly. As if he tried to play down his bubbling nervousness with roughness.

"Okay, okay... they're out together today. With a little luck I get both at once..."

So he didn't have to make the same awkward call twice.

Taking a deep breath, Glenn closed his eyes for a moment. He usually just did things. Why was this so damn hard? He... was leaping into another life. One he didn't know. With this call there was no taking back anything. No going into hiding. So far he could have just vanished back to Shinra... but with this...? No.

Punching the number in, Glenn pressed the phone against his ear and gave Ifalna a small sideglance.

She was no liar. She was no terrorist. She... was the truth he had been so blind to.

When Matt's voice answered with a sudden "Yes?", for a moment Glenn was just... silent. Staring at the stupid commercials plastered over the wall of the cell, he gulped hard. He could see his own distorted mirror image there.

"Matt."

"... Glenn? Where the- okay. Where do we have to pick you up?"

That almost would have made him grin, scoff a little. But this time Glenn couldn't laugh at it. He knew Matt's voice was loud enough even through the speaker in this quiet night, that Ifalna could hear him.

"Is Lucia with you?" "... she is. Why? You need to get out of something? Damn, Glenn."

Glenn scrunched his nose a little offended. Was he so unreliable? He looked like an idiot in front of Ifalna.

"Matt, you need to listen. And you need to tell Lucia. But no one else. Promise me, okay?"

There was another beat of silence, this time coming from Matt. Glenn could almost hear his friend's brain starting to count his beloved Fibonacci number, like he always did when nervous.

Glenn's free hand sought to busy itself, seemingly. Scratching along the phone panel, the door frame.

"Okay... I promise. What is it?"

Wetting his lips, Glenn looked to Ifalna again, as if she would tell him word for word what to tell his own friends.

"I can't return to work next week. I... you can't either. You have to come to Kalm, okay? I'm in Kalm. We need to meet up. Before sunrise. At that stupid bench we practically spent our last weekend trip on. Bring all you need on a longer trip."

"... Glenn. What is going on? Are you in trouble?"

"No! I mean... no. Not really. A little, maybe.", Glenn cringed at his own statement. Oh fuck, why was it so hard to just say the right shit? "Just come!"

The exhausted sigh on the other end of the connection told Glenn that Matt was giving in. Even if he didn't understand.

"... okay, okay. Calm down. We... we'll be there. You know it. Geez, you better have a good explanation."

Ifalna's smile spread, though she had the restraint to not move while he worked. Her own laugh was an exhaled breath of amusement. "You haven't met me when I'm beastly, all tired eyes and mumbled grunts instead of speech."

Though her smile quickly sobered again when Glenn insisted Shinra was the real problem. She hummed vaguely, an acknowledgement and an agreement.

She watched him with that softened posture. He glanced to something behind her, though she had a pretty good guess of what that was. Then he met her eyes and she offered a reassuring smile. Shinra was the source of her misery, a company he worked for until some minutes ago when he shed his remaining association with them.

But she didn't blame him for what happened to her. He wasn't the one who pointed a gun at her and Aerith seven years ago, who forced her and her baby against their will from freedom into a deranged captivity. That had been another faceless security officer, in an ocean of faceless others who simply followed orders.

Glenn had looked where it was uncomfortable. He hadn't brushed it aside or turned a blind eye, he was deeply troubled when he learned the secrets Shinra was capable of harboring. And while she didn't know his past within the company... she could only hope that he wouldn't have been someone to point his weapon so easily at a mother and child. That didn't suit him. That didn't sound like him at all.

He stepped around indecisively. He seemed lost, about what he should do and where he should be. His plate was piled high, and he asked her something in such a quiet tone she almost had to lean forward to catch it.

"Of course I will." Ifalna quickly agreed, even if it flared her own anxiety. She kept it well hidden — though they wouldn't be gone for long, and the phone wasn't all that far away, she didn't like the idea of Aerith being completely alone... "I'll tell my little bed bug that we'll be outside the window if she needs anything, I... don't want her to knock a hole through the wall in the short time we'd be unable to hear her."

It was a mother's natural worry. That their child would need them in the few moments they weren't there.

She carefully picked up her dress from the floor. It almost felt lighter now, as she slipped back into the long, flowing layers. Glenn must have felt a lot lighter too, with his heavier armour strewn on the floor.

[slothspaghettiwrites]

Look @slenbee sent me a very nice centaur gif and it sent me into a wee bit of a rabbit hole. 👀

Save a Horse, Ride 'em Cowboy

Pairing: Centaur!Bucky Barnes X GN!Reader

Warnings: 🤠🤠 me in being inconsistent with everything 🤠🤠, establishing/ed relationship, a sexy pillow placement, it's a bit more... Horsy this time 😅, they fuck, fluid bonding, cumming loads, cream pies and cumming on reader, nipple play, slightly sub!Bucky, unedited and written on my phone

🐎🐎🐎

Bucky has decided he'll never be able to set foot in your apartment again. He just can't. Every time he looks at a piece of your furniture all he can think about is how fucking beautiful you look bent over it. And it's not him imagining it, it's memories from all the times he's 'fucked your brains into outer space'. There is just something about you, the two of you together are explosive.

After the first time, he stayed at your apartment all weekend. It wasn't his plan to do that, in fact he knows Steve was pissed at him for missing their afternoon gym session, but Bucky just couldn't stop. And you were begging him so sweetly to keep going, who was he to deny you or himself? It was only when you ran out of condoms that you both thought some fresh air would do you good.

That weekend feels like a lifetime ago now. A lifetime of fun and laughing and so much sex he thought he might actually die the weekend you went away with friends. But this is serious, he has purposefully invited you to his apartment. A place the two you haven't fucked on every possible surface. He can look at his kitchen island and not instantly get hard.

He stomps his hooves on the thick, soundproofing carpet, his hands fidgeting with his hair. It's ridiculous that he's just standing by his door, waiting for you to ring the buzzer but he is. He got home an hour early, raced through a last minute clean and shower, and now he was waiting for you to get here.

Bucky thinks about doing another sweep of the apartment. He knows he has everything for this weekend- a supply of condoms that would put a brothel to shame, enough lube you could bathe in it, and your favourite movie snacks. This is going to be the perfect weekend.

He nearly jumps out of his coat when the buzzer goes off, but then seconds later you're there. Your face is split into a big grin and your bag is slung over your shoulder. You launch yourself at him like you didn't see him last night or the night before. Your lips collide, your fingers dig into his damp hair, and he finally relaxes a little. Bucky wraps your legs around his waist as he backs into his apartment far enough to slam his door shut.

Your lick and nibble at his bottom lip until he finally relents and lets you fuck your tongue into his mouth. It does what it always does. Everything in his head clouds over and his senses are overwhelmed with you. He gasps, lips slick and struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Twelve hours is too long," you hum against his cheek, your hips grinding against his stomach.

"Sometimes I wonder if you just keep me around for my dick."

It's a joke, a shitty self deprecating one, but that has you immediately stopping. You pull your face far enough away from his, and Bucky can see how his kissing ruins you just as much as you ruin him.

"Buck," you take a deep breath, "I was gonna wait to say this over dinner for some romantic shit, but you clearly need to hear it now."

He freezes. He can't help it. Anxiety drips down his spine and hindquarters. He has to resist the urge to side step, to stomp his hooves, fuck even to shake his head. His instincts are telling him to move to get rid of this energy, but he can't. All he can manage is for his fingers to flex against your perfect ass

"There is so much to you, well beyond the physical. You are the sweetest, most selfless being I have ever met. And you're right, your dick game is impeccable. But I keep you around because I fucking love you."

His knees buckle. His heart jumps into his throat. Whatever he thought you would say, it wasn't that. It couldn't be that, because who could love someone like Bucky?

He kisses you again. Words aren't going to come out of his mouth any time soon, so he has to show you how much your words mean to him. With every lick and suck and scrap of his teeth across your lips, Bucky pours in all his emotions. Your hips grind on harder on to the flat plain of his stomach and your fingers are ripping at his shirt.

"If you don't fuck me, we are gonna have a problem." You groan into his mouth, not begging him but demanding.

It's a blur of knocking over plants and discarded clothes to get to his bedroom. He really needs to find a better place than this tight cornered and narrow halled apartment, but every time he bumps into something you laugh a little and that makes his heart light up. You groan when your back meets the wall beside his bed.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Keep being rough with me and I might cum before you even have a chance to get your dick wet."

Bucky stomps his back hoof, his head dropping to your shoulder. He knows he's blushing and that his cock is aching to be inside you, to fill you, just so he can watch his cum leak out. He shivers as your fingers graze the scars on his back.

"Do you wanna be rough with me? Finally gonna let go and fuck me stupid on your big horse cock?"

"Jesus Christ," he mumbles.

"Too much?"

"Fuck, no, I'm trying not to fuckin' cum from your slutty mouth."

He feels your smile, the apple of your cheek rising up against the side of his neck. Bucky lifts his head so he can see it. Your face shines with mischief and love and Gods how did he get so fucking lucky? He shouldn't question it, he should accept the gift of you.

"I have a second present for you," you smile bigger, dirtier, like the thoughts in your head are running rampant. "I went to the doctor's last week."

"I assume you aren't dying, doll."

"Nope, in fact, they gave me a squeaky clean bill of health."

"Okay..."

"And a certain bird also told me that last time you went you also got a squeaky clean bill."

"I-" Bucky's cheek heat even hotter, pink turning to flaming red. "Fucking, Sam."

"No, fucking me, without a condom."

To emphasize your declaration, you grind hips back against Bucky's abs again. One hand moves into his hair and the other moves to his pec. Your finger circles his nipple until he stomps again.

"Oh... Oh, fuck, doll."

He crashes his lips to yours in a searing kiss. Bucky's tongue fucks into your mouth with urgency. When his hands rip your clothes from your body, the moan you make is unreal. His eyes roll back into his head for a moment. He can't believe it, can't believe you.

"Oh I'm just getting started." You slide down his front and push him until his back legs hit the bed. "On your back, cowboy."

It takes a bit of maneuvering, but soon enough Bucky is on his back. He feels ridiculous with his legs up in the air and when you push a pillow under him to support his back he nearly comes off the bed. Maybe this wouldn't work. There is a reason they say don't fix what isn't broken and the way you've had sex in the past is definitely still good.

Before he can make the suggestion, you're straddling his waist, lined up right over his hard cock. You roll your hips gently, teasing him while you pop open the bottle of lube. Bucky moans, can't hold the needy sound in his throat when he sees you.

Your mouth hangs slack as your fingers prepare yourself, fingers working in and out your body. Bucky wants to reach for you, wants to dig his fingers into your hips and make you grind harder and faster on his cock. His fingers twitch and shivers completely down to his hooves.

"Bucky, touch yourself, I wanna see how hard your nipples get. Show me."

He curses, screws his eye shut to keep himself together even as precum smears across his belly. He only opens them again when you stop moving.

"Doll," he draws out, his fingers pinching both his nipples as you grind faster.

Your chest heaves. Sweat glistens across your skin. Bucky wants to come, wants to lose himself in you until he can't think anymore. He twists his nipples harder, hips rocking up as the pain shoots right to his cock.

When your hands wrap around his cock he shouts. His body quakes and his breath rattles in his chest as you rise up. You line yourself up with his aching cock. The tip eases in, you hover for a moment, clenching around him in a teasing rhythm.

"Please, please doll," he pleads.

"Show me you've earned it," you smile, sinking a little deeper, not nearly enough.

Bucky's hands fly off his nipples and dig into the sheets beneath him. They burn a little, ache more than anything. You suck in a harsh breath at the sight of him.

"So fucking beautiful," you moan.

It's a wet squelch from all the lube, the sound of you fucking yourself down on his cock in one smooth motion. Bucky can't take his eyes off you, using him for your pleasure. His cock aches, your hole warm and wet and fucking perfection. He babbles, words of praise fall out of his mouth as he gets to watch you work on his cock. The sheen of lube between your thighs, the sweat on your body, the spit that slicks your lip every time you lick them, it's all so much.

But it isn't enough. He needs to see you covered in his cum. Bucky tries to make that sudden thought, as instinctual as breathing, a string of words that makes sense.

"Cum, fuck, fuck, fuck, doll, wanna cum on-"

His words cut off with a groan, but you get it. You understand him, in a way no one has. Tears spring to his eyes for a moment, but they don't last. The arousal and need burning him demands release. He wants to cum, but you need to cum first.

"Holy-, fuck, yes, gods yes, Buck. I'm so close. Want see you fucking drench me, soak me. Fuck gods. You feel so good."

You sit back, taking Bucky even deeper. He whines, can barely control himself. You stroke yourself in tandem with the movement of your hips.

"Bucky, look at me, look at me cum on your cock. Watch me make a mess."

As if he could look anywhere else, his eyes are glued to where your bodies are joined.

"Fuck, that's it, cum for me, cum on my cock and let me cover you. Please doll, please cum. I want you to cum on my cock," he begs you.

Your release is earth shattering, clenching around him like a vice. He is torn between fucking himself deeper, bathing in the pure pleasure of your body, and the need cum. Bucky starts to cum, feels his lower half begins to lock up.

"Holy shit," you whimper.

You move quickly enough for the rest of his cum to spray across your body. It lands on your stomach, your chest, your face. Gods it's a sight and Bucky feels so fucking good, right in his skins with your fluids on him and his on you. This is right.

"Cream pie dreams," you hum, a lazy grin on your lips and a glow about you. "Could feel you cumming in me, so fucking amazing, we're doing this again... Maybe after dinner."

Your fingers brush across his stomach, soothing and so sweet. The tears from early come back to his eyes. Endorphins and fucking light washes over Bucky and he thinks maybe he's having a vision. He sees you and him, together. Just the two of you growing older and growing more in love. He can't get the image out of his head as he looks at your cum covered body. It's ridiculous given the circumstances, but it makes him so happy. He reaches for you, grapples in this weird position until he's dragged your messy frame up his body.

Bucky kisses your face, licks his cum off your lips and plunges his tongue into your mouth. The taste of you together makes his blood sing. You break the kiss to take a deep breath.

"Love you, doll, can't even imagine how much."

"I love you, too."