#i swear i didn't intend to make this post so long | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lovebugism · 2 years ago

Note

Virgin!Eddie thoughts?

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | quid pro quo

summary: eddie muson is a virgin and doesn't want anyone to know (because being an adult who's never fucked anyone is a total reputation ruiner). but you, his favorite customer, are more than willing to change that. pairing: eddie munson / f!reader word count: 6.5k (holy shit this was supposed to be a blurb) warnings: talks of virginity and masturbation, the word "tit" too many times, a handjob (sorta?) 18+ mdni a/n: you asked for thoughts but i had way too many of them for a single post so i might turn this into a whole virgin!eddie series that will only see the light of day if you guys are into this so... no pressure <3

( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

You were Eddie’s favorite customer, though that went without saying. It was something both of you were more than aware of. Albeit it, it was a little strange, since he — the supplier of your weed — was essentially paying for your high. He doesn’t mind it, though. He never did. You made it up for him in other ways; and, no, it’s not as perverted as it sounds.

It’s actually much, much weirder.

It was your fourth time meeting with him but your first time without any money to give him in exchange. You’re all pink and fidgeting and feeling like a total loser as you shift on the hard wooden bench across from him.

Your gaze is tilted away from his and down at your hands where you twist the rings on your fingers — “I was supposed to get paid last Friday, but my boss is paying me weekly now instead of every two weeks, so he completely changed my payday on me, and he swears he told me about it, but he totally didn’t— anyway, that’s beside the point. I don’t have any money to give you, or like, at all. Genuinely. I’m gonna be lucky if I get to eat anything other than top ramen for the next few days.”

“Damn,” he laughs, not in amusement at your situation but rather pitying you for it. “That sucks—”

“That sounds like I’m guilt-tripping you, doesn’t it?” you keep rambling. “I’m really not. I’m just trying to be honest. I’m not, like, trying to do you over or anything. I swear. You probably don’t even care. You’re my drug dealer, not my friend, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't— I’m making a total fool out of myself, aren’t I?”

“No, not at all,” Eddie assures sincerely, the hint of a smile curling at the corner of his lips. That’s all he can muster. He feels like the fool right about now because your words sting a little harder than intended.

He always considered you a friend. Or, at least, a whole lot more than just a client. You’re the only customer he has fun with, who he can laugh with, who doesn’t just hang around long enough for him to hand you your drugs like everyone else does, who actually cares enough to make conversation with him.

Maybe that’s why he chose to give it to you for free that day.

Because he’s started to grow fond of you (and because he genuinely believes that you’re in a bad way and that money’s a little too tight for you right now. He knows all too well what that’s like.)

But he asks you for a favor in return when you take the plastic baggie from him. It has him blushing with embarrassment like you’d been just minutes before. He can’t meet your gaze as he says the words, but he can feel the incredulous beam of it piercing holes into him.

“You, Eddie Munson, are willing to give me weed, for free, as long as I… help you pass your next English exam?”

You weren’t repeating it to mock him or to make him feel bad for being a third-year senior. You’re just actually shocked because you know a thing or two about the Munson’s. You know that his Uncle is working two jobs, and his nephew has resorted to drug dealing to compensate for their being strapped for cash. You also know that suppliers giving out anything for free is bad for business, so it’s essentially unheard of.

And aside from all that, Eddie wanting to study — to want to try to be good at something rather than just winging it and hoping for the best — was almost as surprising as him wanting you to be the one to help him. You literally have Gareth, his best friend, in your English class, and he’s way better at it than you are.

You try to find what makes you somehow special but come up short.

“Is that, like, really weird?” he wonders meekly, scrunching his nose and peering at you through his lashes. His eyes are the color of chocolate syrup, you notice then. Like, exactly. And they have a sort of sheen to them beneath the sun, like he's trapped a star inside of them.

“Yes,” you answer with a laugh that's as light as air. “Considering you could’ve offered literally anything else. Like, I don’t know— groping my tits or something.”

It’s what you were half-expecting. Not because you thought Eddie was that kind of guy, but because that’s how it often went down, at least in porn. A busty (broke) blonde orders a pizza, a man with an enormous dick delivers it… It’s a tale as old as time, really.

Your words make him tense for the second time in five minutes.

He almost wants to be offended that you’d think of him that way, but his yearning far overpowers his wounded ego.

He’s got a soft heart. That offer never would’ve crossed his mind, and even if it did, he’d never be stupid enough to say it out loud. But he didn’t realize how much he liked you until right then. It wasn’t just a friend caring for another friend, but a boy with a crush on a girl eons out of his league (with boobs he would happily touch if she’d let him).

He clears his throat and irrationally prays that you aren’t a mind reader.

“I’m down if you are,” he answers with a playful lilt to his voice that makes you giggle again. He’s happy to hear it. Your laugh is like being basked in sunshine. He wants to keep it in his pocket when he gets lost in the shade.

That’s the moment that started it all — the strange friendship that formed out of practically nothing. Who knew what being poor, free weed, an historically low GPA, and a missed opportunity for tit-groping could do to two people?

From then on, all your weed was free. As long as you broke down all the themes in Of Mice and Men for him, of course. And then, when he ultimately aced that paper, he wanted to run his D&D campaign by you — “So, you know, it isn’t totally lame when I show it to the rest of Hellfire.”

“Of course, it’s gonna be lame,” you deadpan from across the rotting bench. “It’s Dungeons and Dragons.”

He goes red at that, a flash of pink blotched around his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He glows cherry with embarrassment and smiles faintly as he looks down at his hand, fidgeting with his silver skull ring. It’s cute. Too cute. The kind of cute that makes you grin to yourself without even thinking about it.

“I’m kidding, Eds—”

Eds. That was new, the boy remarks to himself. Not the nickname itself, perhaps, but the fact that you were the one calling him by it. You’re getting more comfortable with him. He likes that. It gives him a false hope; that one day he’ll be a friend to you and not just your dealer.

“—It sounds really fun actually,” you assure him with nod and a twinkling gaze that proves you sincere. “As long as you’ll smoke with me during.”

“I don’t really like to use my own product…” That was a lie. Mostly. He didn’t like to smoke his own stuff because that burned a hole into his profits. But that didn’t mean he didn’t do it. It was far too tempting to have a tin full of so much weed never more than just a few inches away.

Now he’s got a pretty girl in front of him, wanting to smoke with him, wanting to spend time with him. Hell’s freezing over as they speak and that certainly calls for a celebratory smoke session.

A smirk pulls at his pink lips and he tilts his head, bringing his ear to his shoulder, as he looks at you with a glimmering umber gaze.

“But I’m willing to make an exception. Just for you.”

Eddie swears you blush at that, but he catches only the shortest glimpse of your crimson cheeks before you duck your gaze to the table. The beam on your face is only half-washed away, however, when you turn up to look at him again. You look shy, almost, as you peer at him through your lashes.

“You’ll basically have to start from scratch too, you know that, right? I don’t know anything about that shit.”

“Well, I’m glad I can be your first,” he quips.

You laugh again. It’s like the pinky-orange of a sunset. He could paint it if he had the right supplies. And a set of hands that were good for things other than rolling die and playing guitar.

It was his first time, really. In every aspect of the phrase.

It was the first time a girl’s ever offered to hang out with him and not the other way around. The first time a customer’s ever offered to share their weed with him. The first time someone’s ever wanted him to explain his favorite hobby and not care that he’s been rambling for the better part of an hour.

He doesn’t even notice that he hasn’t shut up since he started talking, mostly because you aren’t giving him that look of annoyance people usually have when he hasn’t gotten the hint. Most couldn’t care less about goblins and villains and battles and knights and princesses — princess knights.

It’s more interesting than you ever hoped a board game could be, but less so as enchanting as the glow Eddie’s got about him as he rambles on and on about something that makes him so happy.

He’s beaming and he doesn’t even realize it. He has no idea he could light up an entire solar system with the smile on his face. You’d tell him if it didn’t feel totally inappropriate.

It takes two weeks to perfect the campaign, which isn’t at all long if you compare it to the year it took him to build it from scratch. When the Cult of Vecna (you pat yourself on the back for coming up with the name) is polished and Hellfire worthy, Eddie starts giving you weed... just because.

There’s nothing left for him to offer in exchange. And he isn’t going to turn his favorite customer down for anything.

“What? No tutoring? No D&D campaign?” you wonder with furrowed brows and a face contorted in confusion.

Eddie shrugs and swings the baggie full of greenery back and forth with the tip of his pointed finger. “Nope. I’m passing English and the campaign’s all finished — the guys love it, by the way. Thanks to you. You’ve helped me out with enough shit, so… just take it.”

“Well, now I just feel bad,” you reject with a scrunched nose, displeased at the idea of taking something and not doing anything for it in return. He can hardly afford it to begin with, much less without anything in exchange. “You're basically paying for my weed already. I can’t just take it.”

“You could,” the boy lilts with a sardonic nod. “My hand's getting a little tired here, sweetheart.”

You huff and reach across the bench for the plastic baggie. Your face is still twisted with an absentminded annoyance and your gaze still uncertain. “You sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah. Cross my heart.”

“Fine.”

“Unless groping your tits is still on the table, of course,” he squints playfully over at you and then smiles softly at the recollection of the conversation from many moons ago.

It was supposed to be a joke. But you’re not laughing.

And when you nod at him, he isn’t either.

It’s got him nearly choking on air and sputtering for a response. “No, I was— I was just— It was a joke. I was just kidding.”

“I know. But, I don’t know, I’m down if you are,” you shrug. “That’s what you said before, right?”

And Eddie has no idea what to say to that. Of course, he wants to. There are a billion things he wants to do. He wants to graduate, he wants to play a show at the Madison Square Garden with Corroded Coffin, he wants to bend you over this table and fuck you silly.

He could do all those things if he were a different person, but he wasn’t. He’s just some guy who can’t pass an English class he's already taken three times, with a mediocre band that plays in front of about five drunks (if they’re lucky), who has a crush on a girl who’s offering to let him feel her up for a short-lived high.

He repeats that last part to himself in his head a couple times. It sounds like a dream he had once. He pinches the skin of his wrist, just to make sure, and winces when it starts to hurt.

It’s real, you’re real, and that’s the scariest part.

Because he’s never actually seen boobs that weren’t projected from a television screen through the grainy film of a VHS tape, or pictured in a crinkled magazine he stole from a gas station — let alone touched one. And the second he puts his hands on you, and you feel him shaking like a leaf and totally unsure of what to do, you’ll know that.

That is, if he doesn’t come in his pants first.

He’s terrified that when you do realize that he’s a complete and utter, absolute and proper virgin, you’ll think he’s significantly less cool. And he can’t have that.

It’s bad for clientele. They’ll stop seeing him as the mysterious metalhead from the wrong side of the tracks but rather as some teddy bear who’s never actually been inside a woman.

He could probably handle the potential drop in income and the talks around school. Hell, he could even handle all the shit Jason Carver would spew at him if he knew. But the idea that you’ll stop wanting to hang out with him — he isn’t sure if he could take that.

He doesn’t notice that he hasn’t said a word until you’re speaking again. And even then, it’s all muffled like he’s underwater.

“I can come over tonight, if you want.”

No, he thinks to himself. That’s far too early. I have to lose my virginity and learn everything there is to possibly know about sex first.

“I... I can’t. Hellfire,” he answers, almost slurring, still caught in a stupor.

“Tomorrow, then,” you challenge at his rejection. You cross your arms and lean over the table as you squint at him. The wind rustling through the trees carries the warmth of your floral-vanilla scent over to him, like a lullaby, or a magic spell.

As though he needed something else to make him all stupid.

Suddenly you're ten feet tall. Eddie feels like an ant. You could crush him if you wanted. You have all the power and the look you give him tells him that you know that. He fidgets on the hard wooden seat but can’t seem to break your stare. His voice is tight and a few octaves higher as he answers — “Yeah. Tomorrow sounds good. Great, even.”

“Cool,” you’re suddenly beaming. You stand from the bench and saunter off, tossing a look and a wave over your shoulder as you shout, “See you tomorrow, Eds!”

He has to jerk off after that one. He counts himself lucky that he made it to his van before he exploded completely.

Eddie has to become a sex god in twenty-four hours and he doesn’t know where to start.

So, like any master procrastinator, he doesn’t. He just worries about it all night and the following day. He turns himself into a big ball of anxiety (if you touched him, he'd probably shock you) and it’s left him in the sort of worry that doesn’t let him sit still for too long.

Wayne’s sitting in his recliner, trying to eat his late lunch before he heads off to work the graveyard shift. It’s hard to enjoy his sandwich or the latest episode of Miami Vice playing on the television ahead of him when his nephew keeps bouncing in and out of the room. Making brief conversation, rearranging the knickknacks on the coffee table, coming in just to stand in place for a few minutes before leaving again to rustle in other parts of the small trailer.

At one point, he comes in with the fucking vacuum and nudges at the man’s work boots until he kicks his feet up. Wayne’s never seen him do a chore in his life.

“What the hell has gotten into you today, boy?” the man complains through turkey, cheese, and bread.

“Nothing. What are you talking about? I’m perfectly normal.”

He’s never been normal a day in his life either.

Eddie disappears out of the room a second later with the whirring of the vacuum in tow. Wayne shakes his head to himself. “Boy’s gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles and takes another too large bite.

It’s unlike Eddie not to tell his uncle things, especially things weighing so heavy on his chest that they're starting to feel like pure steel. But his uncle doesn’t ask any questions, and Eddie’s grateful.

How the hell is he supposed to tell Wayne that a cute girl is coming over and that he’s jacked off three times at the thought of her?

Once in his bed, the first thing he did that day when he woke up from a dream about you that felt a little too real; the second in the shower when the cold water wouldn’t kill the boner he’d gotten; and the third in his bedroom, in the shirt he’d peeled off hardly ten minutes beforehand when he got into a bath. It made him feel dirty again though his skin was perfectly clean.

Wayne would think he was joking. At least with the “cute girl” part. He’d probably pat him on the back for the second one — “oh, to be young again,” he'd mumble to himself while simultaneously deciding to leave well enough alone.

Eddie’s so nervous he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

You’ve got him practicing what to do in the mirror, trying to plan the conversation, ironing out the wrinkles of what might happen. “Hi—” he starts but then shakes his head and clears his throat. His voice is deeper as he continues, “Hey, how are you doing? Oh, that’s cool, I’m good too— shit, this is so fucking lame.”

He wonders how you’ll go about it. If you’ll offer first, or if he needs to ask. If you’ll make small talk or if you’ll just straight up take off your shirt. He’d take either, honestly.

He jerks off one more time, just for good measure, after Wayne’s left for work. He’s already tired and his dick is practically raw with how much it’s been tugged at, but he hopes it’ll stop him from getting hard the second you walk through the door. And he figures with the amount he’s come that day, he’s a whole less likely to do it in his pants when he touches you.

You knock on the door at 7 o’clock sharp, like you planned it down to the minute.

He straightens out his leather jacket when he stands abruptly from the couch. He rushes to the door and then hesitates with his hand on the rusted brass handle — because he doesn’t want to seem too eager, right?

He leans to the side to look in the dirty glass mirror hanging by the coat rack, brushing through his curly locks in attempts to tame them. Then he shakes his head so they’re wild again.

He finds you standing on his porch in a tight-black sweater that dips down at your chest; the pendant of your necklace sparkles under the yellow nightlight perched on the outside wall. It’s paired with a white nylon skirt that stops at your thigh.

He’s only seen girls on TV in the suede boots you’re wearing — the kind that’s tight up to your ankle with a short and chunky heel. They match the color of your skirt. He wonders if they were expensive and how much you’ve worn them; they look brand new, like you’ve brought them down from the top of your closet just for him.

You’ve got a stack of thick tapes in one hand and a brown paper bag of snacks in the other.

“What… What’s all this?” he wonders, not displeased at your effort but shocked by it nonetheless.

“Thought we could have a movie night,” you shrug then slide by him and into the trailer. He shuts the door behind you and watches from afar as you set the sack down. It’s not quite flat on the bottom so it topples over and spills some of its content onto the coffee table — red hot chips and sour gummy worms.

“You mentioned that you’d never seen Fast Times a couple weeks ago, so I decided to go rent a copy at Family Video, right? And then I started talking to Robin and she started showing me all the new movies that just came in, so I got a little carried away—”

You're rambling, he notices, almost like you’re nervous.

It makes him feel slightly better, knowing this obviously wasn’t your first time hanging out with a guy (or being touched by one, if he ever got to that part), but that you were nervous nonetheless. Like you wanted this — whatever this was — to go well just as much as he did.

Eddie puts the tape into the VHS player when you’re headed back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn in hand. You sit it on the table before plopping yourself in the middle of the couch — the boy across the living room has no idea you spent the two-and-a-half minutes it took to cook the snack debating on where to sit.

You feared sitting too far on one side might spook him from sitting next to you, that he’d think you didn’t want to sit next to him. So you place yourself snuggly in the middle of the decade-old sofa and hope you don’t seem too eager.

Your heart sinks to your ass when Eddie sits so far on the edge he’s practically sitting on the arm of it.

You muster a smile and try to make a joke of it. “I don’t have cooties or anything, Eds.”

“Promise?” he lilts. The way his voice shakes is purely for comedic effect. Obviously.

“Cross my heart.”

He hopes that by playing it off, you won’t notice how anxious he is about sitting next to you. But when he plants himself beside you, just close enough so that the rough fabric of his jeans scratches your knee every time he fidgets, it’s a little like sitting next to a rock. You spend the first half of the movie wondering if he’s nervous too or if he really just didn’t want to sit this close to you.

The film keeps playing and he keeps snacking — eating chips and Oreos and popcorn in a rotation before combining all three and marveling at the taste; “You’ve got to try this!” he exclaims to you with raised brows and wide eyes. He eventually forgets to be nervous.

That is, until Fast Times hits 53 minutes and 5 seconds.

The smooth bass of Moving in Stereo plays lowly in the background as Phoebe Cates rises from the pool water, clad in a small red bikini. The chlorine-laced drops of water glisten off of her tanned skin. “Hi, Brad. You know how cute I always thought you were,” you quote quietly along with her.

Your eyes are as glued to the television as Eddie’s when she starts to unlatch her top, like it’s the first time you’re seeing it too. You joked to Robin once that you couldn't wait until they made this movie in 3D.

Eddie gets hard as a rock, then. In every sense of the phrase.

“She’s hot, right?” you ask him.

“Yeah,” he answers. He clears his throat when the word comes out too tight. “Totally.”

“That’s how I knew Robin was gay, you know? We watched this when I slept over at her house one time and I woke up in the middle of the night and found her playing this scene over and over again,” you confess with a laugh and hope your best friend won’t be too angry you told him this. “She was sitting, like, two inches away from the screen.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. And when we made out afterward, that really sealed the deal—”

“Holy shit—” he sputters before he can stop it. “—Are you joking?”

Please, say yes before I come in my jeans, he thinks to himself.

“Why?” you challenge, shooting him an arched brow over your shoulder. “Does that change anything?”

“What? No! Of— Of course not!” It just makes you, like, ten times fucking hotter, that’s all.

“Good,” you nod and then turn back to the television. You move on quickly, and Eddie’s grateful. You keep telling the story like it’s one you tell all your friends.

“I asked her why she was watching it without me, and she said she got bored, but I already knew why she was watching it, you know? I guess I just wanted to hear her say it. So I just came out with it — ‘If you want to look at a pair of tits, I’m literally right here.’”

Eddie’s so entranced by your words it’s like you're telling him a bedtime story. He’s looking at you so intently, his gaze locked to your profile like he’s trying to commit it to memory. And when you finally turn to look at him again, he can’t seem to turn away, to even pretend like he wasn’t just hopelessly staring at you.

“So, then it became this whole thing, right? Like, I’ll show mine if you show yours. And then she got all awkward and nervous and lost in her head, kinda like you right now, and then I leaned in…” you trail off quietly, doing it in time as the words leave your mouth. So teasingly and breathtakingly slow. Eddie finds himself drifting closer to you, too, like a bayman to a siren’s call. “Just like this… And then I—”

You don’t have a chance to finish your sentence.

Eddie’s already kissing you before he realizes what he’s doing. Your noses knock together, the tip of his crushed against the side of yours. The sweet flavor of your strawberry chapstick evades his mouth when your lips press together.

He’s as shocked as you are.

He’s wanted to kiss many pretty girls in his life, but this was the first time he's actually ever done it.

You feel his face burn red against you when he realizes what he’s just done. He tries to pull away from you, but you keep him there with a hand on the back of his head; deepening the kiss and telling him that you want this — that you’ve always wanted this — without actually saying the words.

Refusing to separate from him, you maneuver yourself to face him more as press yourself against his side and tuck your knees beneath you. You caress the rough pad of his tongue with yours all the while, one hand balled in the shoulder of his t-shirt and the other anchoring itself to his curls.

You wait patiently for him to take action. To grip your waist. To lay you back on the couch. To climb over you and take what’s his.

He never does.

He hardly even touches you. He’s got one palm on your hip, but it’s so featherlight that it’s barely even there. His other hand is clutching the pillow on his lap with a white-knuckled grip, like he’s fighting to contain himself in some way. But you want him to let go. To lose himself with you.

The cushion had been there for most of the movie, something to keep in his absentminded hold and get crumbs all over. You wonder, now, if it’s a shield for something else.

Your lips click wetly when you part from him. A small smile forms on your mouth when you notice a string of spit threatening to connect the both of you. It breaks apart, landing cold below your mouth, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand.

“Are you hard?”’ you wonder through bated breaths, coming right and just saying it.

Eddie’s eyes go somehow wider and his mouth falls agape. “Uh… No?”

Giggling, you ask, “Is that a question?”

“Maybe.”

“So what’s the answer?” you pry.

“Honestly?” he starts with a heavy breath and heavier eyes, still trying to joke. “Whatever makes me sound super cool and mysterious and sexy.”

“I’ve always thought you were all those things,” you confess with a soft laugh, twisting a strand of his hair with the tip of your finger.

“…Really?” he can’t help but wonder. Those words are about the most shocking thing that’s happened so far this evening.

“Yeah,” you nod, then tease: “Because you've never lied to me.”

So tell me the truth, he can hear the words jumbling around in your head. So does. He swallows thickly and then admits, voice cracking halfway through his confession, “I’m so hard that it fucking hurts, sweetheart.”

You’re smiling like the Chesire Cat at that, big and sly and mischievous. You have all the power and you know it.

“Can I make you feel better?” you whisper to him, lilting like you're taunting him. You mean it, though, and he knows that because you’re already tugging at the pillow in his lap. You don’t fight to snatch it away completely. You leave just enough room to allow him to say no. But his grip on the thing relaxes and allows you to slide the cushion slowly from his crotch.

He can’t say the words because his tongue is suddenly heavy in his mouth and his throat is closing on him. So he just nods, peering at you with eyes hooded with ecstasy.

You go back to kissing him, then, unhurriedly this time. You allow yourself to feel all of him, to hold his face in your hands and explore all the bits of him you never got the chance to before now. You do it more so in an effort to get him to relax, to forget to be nervous, but it only half-works.

He gets more comfortable with himself with time. The hand on your waist finds a more confident purchase there and the other climbs up to your face, cradling your jaw while his ringed fingers get lost in the strands of your hair. Then he starts to kiss you back harder, more earnestly than before, like he’s trying to prove something. Trying to tell you everything like this than with words he can’t seem to say out loud.

He forgets to be nervous again when your lips fit together like pieces of a puzzle — the kind with the funky edges, the kind you know goes together because there’s only two in the whole bunch like it. He stops worrying if he’s doing it right.

His breath is warm and heavy as it fans against your cupid’s bow. He’d rather take in small pieces of oxygen like this than stop kissing you now. You feel the same way as you straddle his thigh, careful not to move with too much haste that it knocks your lips apart.

Eddie’s legs part for you on instinct. When you settle more comfortably against him, he can feel the warmth radiating between your thighs through the thick fabric of his jeans. He wishes he was naked right now, more so that you were, so he can feel all of you, bare against his skin.

But he takes what he can get for now. And tries not to burst completely at the thought that the only thing separating you from him was the thin layer of your cotton underwear.

It’s hard not to think about your own pleasure like this. You could so easily move your hips against his thigh, let the rugged fabric of his jeans and your panties do all the work against your clit and bring you to a swift release. You want to. You’re sure Eddie would want you to if you asked him. But it strangely seems less important now.

Because you know you’re minutes away from making Eddie come so hard his legs shake. And you always wanted to know what he looked like when he came.

Your hand worms out of his hair and down his neck. Your fingernails trail lightly over his skin, leaving visible chill bumps in their wake. Your palm falls down his chest and stomach, smooth like drops of summer rain. The print of his Def Leppard tee is rough and cracked with age. You wonder how long he’s had it, how often he’s worn it, as your hand settles again. This time on his belt.

For a split second, he’s anxious about you seeing his dick. What if you think it’s too small? He thinks to himself. What if you think it’s too ugly? But then he realizes you’re not even trying to take off his jeans. You just rest your palm over the rough material of the denim and grip him through it.

A groan crawls up his throat and out of his mouth. His head falls backward and lands against the back of the couch.

He’s bigger than you thought, and warm against the tender skin of your hand, even through his boxers and his pants. It’d be ever warmer if you were feeling the real thing, you discern, but you figure you’ll save that for another time. Because even though it’s not the real thing and there are so many layers separating your fingers from his cock, Eddie’s letting out small and breathy moans that tell you that you’re touching him just right. The more you squeeze, the louder he gets.

“Is this okay?” you whisper to him.

“Are you kidding?” he retorts with a breathless laugh. “I feel like I’m in heaven right now.”

“Just wait until you come,” you giggle. It makes him moan again. His eyes fall shut because he knows he’s moments away from feeling what it’s like — not to come, obviously, but for it to be from your hand and not his.

You massage him through his jeans, feeling him grow somehow harder with each caress of your fingers. Peering down at him, you can see his jaw clenching, the way it moves his temples, and the muscles in his neck straining as he climbs the peak of pleasure.

“If you think this feels good now, just wait until you're inside me,” you purr to him.

“Oh, fuck,” he drawls shakily at your words. He doesn’t know if you’re being serious or not. He wants so much to believe that it’s a promise, though. The idea that he could unbuckle his belt right now, free his cock from its restraints and slip your panties to the side and take you, just like this, with you on top of him and riding him for all he’s worth, that nearly does him in.

But he’s fighting to keep it at bay. To let this moment last as long as he can. Because it’s entirely likely that he’ll come and you’ll never want to do this again. It’s even more likely that he’ll wake up from this way too vivid fantasy he’s concocted in his brain. How good can dreams get until they’re nightmares again?

The hand on your hip darts to wrap around your wrist.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him, gaze sober and sincere.

Eddie breathes out a tremble sigh of relief when you slow your motions against him. “I just…” he breathes heavily. And swallows. “I really don’t want to come in my jeans.”

You’re smiling again at that, pleased at how good you're making him feel. Like the pleasure is foreign to him. He can feel your grin as you lean down to kiss him. It’s a chaste peck, like you're just sprinkling yourself there so it can linger the rest of the night.

Your kiss is far more fervent against his neck, wetter and more passionate. His skin has a faint taste of salt, like he’d been sweating. And he was, for the entire day that he anticipated your arrival, though there was never an ounce of him expecting this. You bite at the strained tendon and marvel as he shudders beneath you.

“It’s okay,” you leave your promise against his skin. “I’ll wash them for you after. Like a good little housewife—”

It was a joke and he knows it because you’re laughing at the absurdity of your words, at the reality of them. You’re probably the only person in the world giving your drug dealer a handjob for free weed and then offering to wash his damp bottoms when he comes in them — calling yourself his fucking housewife. But, for a reason he can’t explain, that’s what gets him.

Not marrying you, perhaps, but the idea that he could have this feeling forever. That you could bring him to complete and utter, blinding bliss and then take care of him while he comes back to earth.

You give him an especially tough squeeze that sends a moan spilling roughly from his throat. His hips jerk up to their own according, his thigh jamming into your clothed pussy — he swears he hears you moan — and his toes curl in his boots.

He doesn’t let go of your hand as he comes. He grasps your wrist and presses you further against him. His grip is almost too tight but you don’t mind it, not when you can feel the denim growing damp with the evidence of his orgasm.

Eddie doesn’t feel anything for a while after that. It’s just pure pleasure for several long moments. The fuzziness of his climax, your hand pressed against him, your warmth still pressed against his thigh.

But then the high fades away like a rolling summer cloud and he starts to feel the wet patch forming in his clothes. The fabric of his thin boxer starts to stick to him and he almost feels gross, like he’s a teenager again who can’t so much as look at a woman with needing to come.

But then he sees the way you look at him, grinning like a cat who got the cream — because, in some ways, you are. You look like you're proud of him. Like you’re secretly wondering how many times you can do that before it’s too much. He wants to find out too.

You plant another kiss to his lips. Just because you can.

“Take your pants off, Munson,” you mumble against his mouth, kissing him one more time for good measure before pulling away again.

“Oh— shit— wait, really?” he sputters. “I thought you were joking about— about me being… I— I don’t know if I have any condoms.”

He totally does, in an unopened box under his bed, collecting dust.

You don’t need to know that, though.

“I meant for washing them so you can change,” you laugh at his embarrassment. The sound somehow makes him feel better even though you’re slightly making fun of him. You shrug and arch a brow at him, lilting, “But… I’m down if you are.”

have any more virgin!eddie thoughts? or just thoughts about my writing/requests in general? leave them here if you want! ꒰◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍꒱

#stranger things imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #virgin!eddie munson #virgin!eddie munson x reader #st oneshots <3 #published by bug

5K notes · View notes

xomakara · 4 months ago

Text

Craving You

(re-posting from my old account seulrinnie-rinrin/xomakara-secondary)

SUMMARY | When you accidently send a nude of yourself to Jongho, he can't help but look and start to crave you. The only thing standing in his way: your friendship.

PAIRING | Jongho/Reader

GENRE | non-idol!Jongho, friends to lovers trope, smut with no plot, protected sex (wrap it up everyone!), fingering, vaginal sex,

RATING | Mature

LENGTH | 5066 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE | I’m such a sucker for the Friends to Lovers Trope lolol.

Jongho didn't mean to look.

But that picture you sent him was just so… You were looking at the camera like you'd never seen it before. Your cheeks were flushed and your skin was glowing in the light, as if it had never been more alive. And the fact that your fingers were grazing the top of your panties…

If that wasn't enough to turn any man's head, then nothing ever would be. He hadn't meant for this to happen—hadn't even intended on seeing it when he took a quick glance at his phone while checking his messages—but there it was, staring back at him, tempting him, teasing him with those dark eyes, and suddenly, he couldn't help but want it.

More than anything, Jongho wanted to see your body moving beneath him. Wanted to know what color you tasted like. What it felt like to touch every inch of you, slowly working his way down from your lips until he found himself between your legs. Then, after giving you everything he had to give, he would do whatever it took to make sure that you never forgot this moment, no matter how hard you tried to push it away.

Forbidden, because you're both supposed to be friends, and also because he should never want to take something that doesn't belong to him. But when he realizes that all of these things are exactly why he wants you so much, it becomes impossible to deny his true feelings for you.

He dropped his phone on the bed beside him and leaned against the headboard, trying desperately to think of something else besides the thought of running his tongue over the hot spot where your clit sat, letting his teeth gently graze its sensitive edges. If he could just get some sleep, maybe by morning, the desire would be gone. Or at least, the temptation. But the second he closed his eyes, all he could see was you: face flushed, thighs spread, red lips parted as he licked his way up from your clit to your mouth. All he could hear was your moans as he pushed his fingers inside of you, pumping them deep into your pussy and moaning as he watched your muscles tighten around them. All he could feel was the warmth radiating off of your naked body as he buried his face between your breasts, inhaling your scent until he had finally made you cum.

This was wrong, so very, very wrong. So, so, wrong. It wouldn't be right for either one of you.

His phone vibrated and he saw a text message from you come through, and though he really shouldn't read it, Jongho had a feeling that if he ignored it, it might not go away. Not that he knew what he would say anyway; all he knew was that he needed to talk to you about this, and he needed to do it now.

So he picked up his phone again and opened the message:

You: OMG Jongho! That picture wasn't meant for you! I swear, I totally meant to send it to Yunho. Please delete?!

His jaw clenched and he closed his eyes tightly. Of course you would have sent it to Yunho. Why wouldn't you? After all, the two of you were hooking up with each other. You told Jongho that it was no strings attached relationship, that Yunho just wanted to be friends with benefits.

But Jongho knew you. He knew that you were crushing on Yunho and had been for a long time. He also knew that the two of you didn't just hook up once or twice. No, you had hooked up a lot. Way more times than he cared to count. The two of you might have been dating, for all Jongho cared. You were lying to yourself if you believed otherwise.

Not that he was mad. Well, actually, yes, he was mad. But not at you. Mostly at himself for getting sucked into this. For allowing himself to fall for someone who had been nothing but his friends for years. But he was tired of fighting this attraction. Tired of pretending that it didn't exist. So, he turned off his phone and tossed it across the room, cursing silently as it hit the wall and bounced onto the floor.

Tomorrow, he decided, he would just ignore it. Ignore you. See if that helped. He hated to admit it, but his feelings for you weren't going anywhere anytime soon. They were there in the pit of his stomach every time you smiled at him, the blush rising in your cheeks whenever he looked at you too long, the way your voice trailed off when he asked you questions, and the small sparkle in your eyes whenever you looked at him like he was the best thing that had ever happened to you. He liked being close to you.

He sighed and picked up his phone, opening his messages and typing out a quick response:

Jongho: Out of sight and out of mind. I deleted it. Don't worry about it.

Then, he turned his phone off and put it back on the nightstand. He tried to fall asleep but the thought of you naked was already ingrained in his brain.

In your defense, you weren't entirely in your right mind when you sent Jongho that picture. You had meant to send it to Yunho but somehow managed to type in the wrong person's name, hitting send before you realized your mistake. It must have been the wine you drank earlier that day. Maybe it was the multiple glasses of wine that you had consumed throughout the night. Whatever the reason, by the time you figured out your error, the message was already sent. There was no taking it back.

And when you got Jongho's message saying that he deleted it, you felt a weight lift off of your shoulders. Just thinking about it made you sigh in relief, and when you woke up in the middle of the night with wet dreams about the two of you fucking, the guilt from sending that picture plagued you for hours.

"Ugh," you groaned, pulling the blankets over your head and ignoring the pounding in your head. "Just shut up."

Your head ached too much to care about your stupid hormones, so you rolled over and let yourself slip back into a restless slumber, hoping that when you woke up tomorrow, you would be able to forget about what you had done last night. Unfortunately, the thought that was playing on repeat in your mind refused to leave you alone, and soon, you were tossing and turning restlessly as images of you and Jongho romping together filled your thoughts.

"Shit!" you swore loudly as you sat up in bed, throwing your pillow to the ground. How could you think of your best friend in that way? You never had thoughts of Jongho that way before. Sure, you enjoyed hanging out with him, and there were days when you wished you could crawl into his lap and spend hours listening to him tell you stories or sing. You enjoyed teasing him mercilessly and getting to witness the smile on his face when you succeeded. But sexual fantasies involving him? Those were completely new territory.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" you cried, covering your face with your hands. God, you needed to get a grip. Maybe it's the alcohol. Yeah, it had to be the alcohol. Maybe you should call up Yunho and have him just fuck you senseless so that you forget about those fantasies of Jongho. Get it out of your system. Make yourself forget. Surely that would work. Right?

No, that wasn't going to work. Although it was an accident that you sent that nude, you couldn't help but think of what Jongho thought. Did he like it? Did he enjoy the view? Could he imagine what you looked like naked? Were his dreams filled with the two of you, pleasuring each other? Was he jerking off right now thinking about what it would be like to have your pussy wrapped around his-

Nononono. You needed to get a grip. You headed towards the shower, determined to rinse your body clean and pretend that last night never happened.

After a shower and exhausted beyond belief, you went about your day. You met up with the guys, wishing that Jongho wasn't there because you didn't want to crawl into an embarrassing hole. When they suggested that you have a few drinks with them, you gladly agreed, deciding to keep it casual. This was probably a good idea. A little drink here and there would probably take the edge off of those bad thoughts about your best friend.

"Something happened between you two?" Hongjoong asked as he looked over at you and Jongho. The both of you were sitting on opposite ends of the table, avoiding each other's gazes.

"Ya'll acting weird." Mingi muttered, leaning forward on the table. "The best friends aren't even sitting next to each other. Something happened, didn't it?"

"What happened?" San asked next to you, putting an arm around your shoulder. "Are you okay?"

You hesitated for a minute and let out a sigh, leaning to whisper in his ear. "I accidently sent Jongho a nude photo last night."

San froze for a second before dropping his hand from your shoulder and shaking his head in laughter. "No way. You're serious?"

You eyed Jongho, realizing that he got up to use the restroom. "I didn't mean to send it to him. I accidentally typed his name instead of Yunho's."

Hongjoong laughed softly, nodding his head. "Well, damn girl. I guess we know why he was looking so depressed today."

"Hush." You muttered, the rest of the table going into fits of laughter. You hid your face behind your hands, waiting for the laughing to die down before you explained the situation to everyone. When they finished laughing, you spoke. "Listen, this is just an unfortunate accident. He's already deleted it. We just need to get through this week, okay? I'm sure things will calm down after that."

"Yeah, don't worry," Wooyoung said, wiping tears from his eyes. "Things always get better after this."

They nodded their heads and when Jongho returned to the table, he just sat down and resumed talking with the others without acknowledging you.

You knew it would be okay by next week. You always had random fights with Jongho and it was usually resolved by next week. That's what friends did. They argued. They fought. Then, they made up and everything was fine again.

Why couldn't you just give him the benefit of the doubt this time?

Wiping his sweaty palms on his pants, Jongho leaned back in his chair as he watched you joke with the rest of the guys. Your hair was wet, curling slightly under the lights of the bar as you shook your head in amusement. He stared at you for a while, wondering what it would feel like to run his fingers through your hair. To kiss your forehead. To watch you sleep.

And then he snapped out of it.

Looking at you now, you appeared so happy and carefree, despite what had happened earlier. Jongho bit his lip as he stared at you, feeling his heart beat erratically against his chest. What the hell was happening to him? One minute, he had been angry at you and angry at himself for giving in to temptation and wanting you. Now, he couldn't stop staring at you and he didn't know how to act around you anymore.

"Are you going crazy?" Yunho asked him, as they both watched you in an animated conversation with Seonghwa and Yeosang.

"What?" Jongho blinked in surprise, having forgotten that Yunho was there. "No, I'm not going crazy."

"Sure you aren't." Yunho muttered. "Seeing any kind of nude of your best frien-"

"She was supposed to send it to you, you know?" Jongho cut in before his friend could say anything else. "She mixed up her names and sent it to me instead."

"It doesn't matter who she sent it to." Yunho shrugged his shoulders. "It's not like we're dating or anything. She could've sent it to anyone."

Wooyoung sighed. "Jongho, bro. Who cares who sent it to? Y/N isn't dating any of us. You ended up being the recipient. Things happen."

Hongjoong nodded, patting him on the back. "So who cares if you saw a nude picture of your best friend? Why does it bother you?"

"Because..." Jongho trailed off as he frowned, realizing that none of them really understood what he was going through. "I like her."

Hongjoong, Wooyoung and Yunho all exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.

"Well that changes everything." Hongjoong said, clapping his hands together. "So what are you gonna do?"

"About what?" Jongho shot him a confused glance, which caused the rest of them to burst into more laughter.

"Don't be dense," Yunho mumbled, holding his stomach as he wiped tears from his eyes. "Why don't you ask her out? Have a date with her? Show her how much you care?"

"I do care." Jongho replied softly. "A lot."

"But does she?" Wooyoung countered. "Does Y/N like you? Or does she only like you as a friend?"

Hongjoong slapped Wooyoung's arm. "Stop! Don't say that! We're trying to cheer Jongho up here, remember? Don't make it worse."

"Do you think I stand a chance?" Jongho whispered. "Will she actually agree to go out with me?"

Yunho smirked. "As long as you're willing to admit your feelings for her, I'm sure she'll agree to go out with you."

"Really?" Jongho asked hopefully.

Yunho gave him a nod. "I've seen how she looks at you. And hey, she talks about you all the time when we're together. Kind of made me jealous, if I'm being honest."

"I think I may have a shot." Jongho breathed out slowly, relieved.

"Go for it, man." Wooyoung added, smiling at him. "You deserve happiness. If Y/N makes you happy, you gotta grab it."

"We're rooting for you." Yunho smiled as he patted him on the back. "Remember, the worst thing that can happen is rejection."

Jongho nodded his head, understanding exactly what Yunho meant. While he desperately wanted Y/N to say yes, he also worried that she might turn him down. There was no way to prepare for such a thing, especially since they'd been best friends for so long. If Y/N turned him down, he'd hate himself for wanting her so badly, and he'd hate himself for doing something that would cause her pain.

No, he needed to stop worrying.

He glanced over at you again, watching you laugh with the rest of the group. Watching you made his heart flutter and the nerves that had settled in his stomach started to dissolve away. For some reason, seeing you smile and appear happy again made it easier for him to breathe.

Jongho took a deep breath and stood up, making his way over to where you were seated. Seeing you sitting with the rest of the guys, he wondered whether he should sit down or not. After what seemed like forever, Jongho took his seat across from you, his heart beating rapidly against his chest as he took in every detail about you, trying to memorize you.

"Jongho, you wouldn't believe this crazy story that Mingi was telling us." You exclaimed, taking a sip of your beer. "It sounds like something straight out of a soap opera."

"Oh yeah?" Jongho teased. "So, what's this ridiculous plot?"

"Hmm...well, basically..." Mingi began but Jongho drowned out his voice as he hesitantly reached for your hand. Taking your fingers in his own, he looked at you to see your reaction. After several seconds, you didn't pull away, allowing him to hold onto your hand. "The main character and the secondary characters meet and end up falling in love. It's full of drama and emotion and lots of crying and whining."

Jongho grinned, his entire body relaxing at the warmth radiating from your skin. "Is that how love stories normally go?"

"Pretty much." Mingi admitted. "I wish my love life could be like that though. No headaches or misunderstandings. Just love and happiness."

"Me too." Jongho breathed out, squeezing your hand gently.

Mingi, Yeosang, San, and Seonghwa couldn't help but notice the way Jongho was holding your hand. They all noticed the way his eyes kept wandering to yours and the way his expression was almost desperate. Even they couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. Was he thinking about asking you out?

After several minutes, they gathered into a conversation, leaving you and Jongho out of it. But when they left to get more drinks, leaving the two of you alone, you found yourself leaning towards him, hoping that he would lean in too.

"Jongho?" You whispered softly. He turned his head to stare at you, your gaze locking onto his. "Can I ask you something?"

Jongho swallowed hard, unable to take his eyes off of you. He wanted nothing more than to drag you close and kiss you senseless. So he nodded, trying to find the words to say to you.

"What?"

"Did you...what were you thinking about...when I sent you that picture?" You looked at him, uncertainty in your eyes. He wished that you weren't looking at him with those sad eyes of yours. Those sad eyes made him want to make it all better.

"About what?" Jongho croaked out.

"Last night. When I sent you that picture by accident." You paused, placing your hand over his. "Were you thinking about me?"

Jongho looked down at your hand resting on his and then raised his gaze back up to your face. "Of course I was thinking about you. How could I not?" He placed his other hand over top of yours, intertwining your fingers together. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I..." You took a deep breath, as you waited for him to reply. "We're friends and friends don't think of each other like that. Right?"

"Do you still want to be friends?" Jongho asked you, squeezing your hands. "Because I don't want our friendship to change because of this. Not when I...I want more."

"More?" You repeated softly.

"Yeah." Jongho closed his eyes tightly, unsure if you were going to agree to go out with him. "I want us to become more than just friends. After seeing that picture, my mind has been flooded with thoughts of you. Thoughts that friends shouldn't have of each other. Thoughts of kissing you and touching you and..."

He never got to finish speaking once he felt your lips on his. His entire body tingled as your lips pressed against his, causing a fire to burn within him. Without warning, Jongho crushed his mouth against yours, forcing your lips apart and claiming your lips with his own. His heart was racing, his mind consumed by the need to kiss you again. To feel your soft lips against his own, to feel the warmth of your body pressed against his. To feel the sparks that he knew were running between you.

"Yeah..." You breathed out. "I've had those thoughts too...of kissing you and touching you and..." Your voice drifted off, as Jongho captured your lips with his again. Your hands ran up his arms, sending chills throughout his body.

"God, my eyes. My poor eyes!" You heard Wooyoung gasp behind you. "Go get a room already!"

"Shut up!" You laughed loudly, pulling away from Jongho. Jongho let out a laugh, pulling you up from your seat so he could wrap his arms around you.

"Should we...go to my place now?" He whispered into your ear.

"Yes." You gasped.

"Ohhhh." San let out a laugh. "I knew this was going to happen."

Yeosang nodded next to him. "Ahhhh, young love. Too cute."

"Have fun, stay safe and use protection." Hongjoong called out, earning another round of laughter.

"Just shut up and leave us alone." You yelled back, giving them all a wave.

"Bye!" Mingi shouted, raising his glass in the air. "See you later!"

They all waved goodbye as you and Jongho hurried out of the lounge, weaving your way through the crowd. As soon as the doors closed behind you, Jongho wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. He kissed you one more time before leading you out of the parking lot, heading towards his apartment.

"Home sweet home." He sighed happily, leading you inside and closing the door behind him. He snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. "So where were we?"

"Kissing..." You breathed out, staring into his dark brown eyes.

Jongho chuckled, bringing his lips closer to yours. His entire body tingled at the mere thought of kissing you again. Of feeling your lips on his. Feeling the heat of your body pressed against his own. It was all he ever wanted. All he ever dreamed about. All he ever hoped for.

His lips brushed against yours lightly, barely grazing your mouth with his. He lingered there for several seconds before drawing back slightly.

"What thoughts did you have of me?" You ask him, breaking the silence.

Jongho smiled, reaching his free hand up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. "Good ones." He whispered, trailing his finger along your cheek. "Thoughts of you lying naked in bed, letting me explore every inch of your body."

"And what else?" You purred, pushing your body against him.

"Ohhh..." Jongho moaned softly. "Those naughty thoughts of mine involve..."

He trailed off as you brought your hand up to his mouth, planting light kisses against his palm.

"Tell me." You breathed out, closing your eyes. "Please."

"I was thinking about what it would be like having you underneath me." He let out. "I was thinking about how good it would feel to feel your soft skin under my fingertips. How good it would feel to have you pressing against me, begging me to fill you with my cock. How hot and wet your pussy would be and how amazing it would feel to make you come."

"Yes." You moaned, grinding against him.

"Ohhh." Jongho groaned, pressing his lips against yours again. "I want you so bad."

You shivered, breaking away from his lips. "Me too. So much." You bit your lip. "I can't wait any longer."

Jongho nodded, moving towards his bedroom, leading you along the way. "Well, let's hurry up and do something about that." He murmured, pulling you closer to him as he pushed open the door.

As soon as you entered the bedroom, Jongho wrapped his arms around you, trapping you against the wall. Leaning forward, he brought his lips back to yours, crushing his mouth against yours roughly. Your knees buckled slightly as he pressed himself against you, wrapping his arms tightly around you. Jongho broke away from your kiss long enough to rip your shirt open, throwing it aside.

"I can't wait anymore either." He breathed out. "I need to touch you. Need to feel your body pressed against mine. Want to taste your lips again."

Jongho's lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before biting down gently. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as his mouth travelled downwards, nipping and sucking along your collarbone. His lips pressed harder against your skin, making your entire body tingle.

"God..." You moaned out. "Jongho..."

"Need to feel you underneath me." Jongho continued, bringing his hands up to cup your breasts. "God...you feel so fucking good against me."

"Don't stop." You breathed out.

He smiled as he reached his hands down to unhook your bra, throwing it aside. As soon as your breasts came into view, Jongho's lips immediately latched onto your nipple.

He sucked on your nipple gently, eliciting a moan from you. As he did this, he brought his hand up to caress your other breast. As he played with your nipples, you began to feel a familiar ache building within you. With a groan, you dug your nails into his shoulder blades.

"Are you okay?" Jongho asked you, worried about your reaction.

"Y-yeah." You answered quickly, biting your lip as your body became even more sensitive. "Just...just feels so good."

Jongho nodded, continuing to suckle on your breast while massaging your other one. His fingers moved across your chest, teasing the sides of your breast, slowly working their way up until they reached your chin. With a slight flick of his wrist, he tilted your head up towards him.

With one quick motion, he brought his lips to meet yours, his tongue darting past your lips to dance with yours. His fingers intertwined with yours, keeping them both locked in place as he began to trail his fingers down your body. One hand slid down to your stomach, tickling you softly.

The other hand found its way back up to your breast, pinching your nipple lightly as his thumb rolled it between his fingers. Your whole body tingled at the feeling of pleasure coursing through you.

Jongho pulled back slightly, taking a deep breath. "Do you want me to stop?" He asked you softly.

"No." You shook your head. "Don't stop."

He nodded, closing his eyes briefly before pulling his hand away. Reaching down, he slid your pants off your hips, allowing them to fall to the floor. "Like this?" He breathed out, leaning down to capture your lips with his once again.

You let out a moan as his fingers slipped between your legs, stroking you gently as his lips traveled down your neck. Once his lips met your chest, he nibbled on your skin lightly. You felt your body tighten slightly at the touch of his tongue as it traced your clavicle.

"God..." You breathed out, pushing yourself closer to him.

"Does it feel good?" He asked you, nibbling on your earlobe.

"Ohhh...so good." You moaned, running your fingers through his hair. "Fuck...please don't stop."

"Don't worry." Jongho promised, returning his attention to your neck. "This is just getting started."

With that said, Jongho slowly lifted his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. He then took his boxers off, leaving himself completely naked in front of you. He stood straight, facing you as you watched him intently. When he saw that you were looking at him, he placed his hands on your cheeks, tilting your face up towards his. His eyes bore into yours as he leaned down, capturing your lips with his once again. His fingers trailed down your cheek, cupping your jaw as he pulled you closer to him.

Once your lips parted, Jongho wasted no time deepening the kiss. Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair as he forced his tongue into your mouth. With each passing second, your passion grew, causing you to grab hold of his arms, gripping them tightly as he thrust his tongue against yours. Your entire body was now tingling with desire, begging for release.

Jongho broke away from the kiss, panting heavily as he looked into your eyes. He ran his hands down your thighs, parting them and then grabbing one of the condoms from his nightstand drawer. Opening the package, he sheathed himself with ease, preparing himself to enter you.

"Are you ready?" He breathed out.

"Mmm..." You breathed out. "Yes...please."

"Good." He replied before pressing his lips to yours once again.

With one final glance into your eyes, Jongho lowered himself down, positioning himself between your legs. He raised himself up slightly, pausing for a moment as he searched your eyes. Your fingers twined themselves into his hair as you waited patiently for him to move. After a few moments, he began to slide into you. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure throughout your body.

"Ahhh...." You moaned loudly, pressing your forehead against his shoulder.

Jongho hummed as he continued to thrust into you. Every movement caused a new wave of sensation to wash over you. You had never felt anything quite like it. You couldn't believe how incredible it felt. He brought his lips back to your ear, whispering softly.

"You feel so good." He moaned. "So damn good."

Your legs tightened around his hips as he began to speed up his movements. His lips grazed your ear, his warm breath brushing against your skin. "Feels good, doesn't it?" He whispered, causing you to moan again.

"Jongho...oh god..." You breathed out, digging your fingernails into his shoulders.

Jongho closed his eyes, feeling the heat radiating from your body. He knew how badly you needed him. He knew that you were dying to come. And he could tell by the noises escaping your throat that you were close to climaxing. All he had to do was continue to pump his hips, slowly increasing the pace. In a matter of seconds, he would drive you over the edge. That thought alone made him harder than ever.

In response to the sound of his name coming from your lips, Jongho picked up the pace even further, pressing his lips firmly against your ear.

"Come for me, baby." He growled out, pushing even deeper into you. "Come hard for me."

With those words, Jongho's hips began to slam into you faster and faster. Soon enough, he felt your walls clamp down around his cock, holding him there, preventing him from pulling out. With another moan, he exploded inside of you, filling the condom with his semen. Once he finished, he pulled out of you, breathing heavily. Your eyes remained fixed on him, watching him as he pulled the used condom off of his cock. He tossed it to the side before lowering himself to the mattress beside you.

You flipped him over, moving to straddle him as you kissed him deeply. As you did this, you could feel his hardening cock beneath you. You smirked, bringing your lips back to his ear.

"Guess we're not done yet." You whispered seductively. "I'll let you fuck me raw if you keep going."

With a grin, Jongho grabbed your ass, squeezing it tightly as he slid into you. "Whatever you want, baby. Anything you want."

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez fanfics #ateez smut #ateez stories #ateez jongho #jongho #choi jongho #ateez jongho smut #jongho smut #jongho x reader

173 notes · View notes

pandora-writes-one-piece · 3 months ago

Text

The Meet Cute - Ace's Story - 10

Source for pic

Firestarter 10

Word Count: 6335

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader, slight NSFW (It's mature, not explicit), slightly sugestive behaviour, flirting, jealousy, frenemies, sexual tension, miscommunication, unresolved tension, slight angst, slow-burn, romantic comedy vibes, alternate universe modern setting, swearing, drinking, fluff, feelings realisation, denial of feelings.

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You intended to have some alone time, to reflect and heal, but your childhood friend's older brother, Ace, seems to be there just to upset that fragile peace you're striving for. He's a flirt and a womaniser. But why does he also have to be so handsome and perfect? And how long can you resist his charms?

Notes: This chapter was a rollercoaster of emotions! But now we're only missing the epilogue with our happy ending 😊 I will be posting the new poll (for voting on the next story of the meet-cute series) this week! Also, if you want to check out my 100 followers event, feel free to do it! Full disclosure, answers to requests may take a while! Thank you for reading this! ❤️

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn

Masterlist for previous introductory chapters.

Ace sets his phone down but keeps staring at it. He has a silly little grin on his lips though his eyes are furrowed with apprehension. They're enjoying a tiny break at the fire station, after helping clear the gutters that were blocking the water from flowing freely.

All the firemen are on standby, waiting for the storm to pass and hoping for a calmer evening.

Luffy pats Ace on the shoulder with a small smile curling his lips. “What's with the face?”

Ace sighs as he whispers your name, his fingers tousling his hair. “She managed to get a call through and though I barely heard her, she said she was coming over. And that she loves me.”

Ace can't stop a grin from pulling the ends of his lips and Luffy is smiling with him. “But that's good, right? Why do you look worried?”

“I really didn't want her driving in this weather.”

Luffy hums and nods, his eyes darting to the large windows where fat drops of rain pound incessantly. “She'll be fine, Ace! Don't worry!” He pats Ace on the back again while getting up. “Want the last slice of pizza?

And suddenly they're both fighting for the slice, Ace trying to forget that you're driving along dangerous roads and Luffy helping him do it.

-*-

The ring from the station’s phone is shrill and piercing. Ace jumps before picking it up. He's been watching the time and you were supposed to have arrived already. He can't stop the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

“Hello, go for Ace.” Even his normal greeting seems strained.

“Ace, hi! It's Marco.” The older man has an urgency in his tone and Ace snaps in his seat, nudging Luffy as he sets the call on speaker. The connection still feels broken and with a lot of static, but he can make out the words. “There's been an accident at the intersection before the turn to the road that leads to the fire station. I don't know how long, but the car seems to have rolled over at least once. There's a girl inside and she's unresponsive. I didn't touch her but there's a lot of blood-...”

Ace scrapes his chair against the floor as he gets up, not even letting Marco finish the call. His heart is pounding against his chest relentlessly. In his head an unending litany set on repeat: no, no, no, please God, no!

He feels cold and numb and he doesn't wait for his fellow fireman nor for the truck. He grabs his jeep keys and slides down the pole, running, not answering Luffy’s calls, not hearing anything else but the pounding of his heart in his ears.

No, no, no, please God, no!

-*-

When you entered Shanks’ house, a smile on your lips, calling for daddy, he felt a pang in his heart. You had grown up into a fine, beautiful woman. The burn of desire tingled and Ace knew he wanted you.

He wanted you badly.

But you were Shanks’ daughter, Luffy’s friend. Off-limits for his little one-night stands. It was okay, he could admire you from afar.

It got a little harder when you stopped on the stairs and his nose rubbed against your ass. It got even harder once he found your vibrator. God, not even ten minutes had passed since you had entered your home and already he knew you would be the death of him.

Learning that you were cheated on was like a punch to the gut. After what had happened to you and, as soon as you heard of his reputation, you would never trust him enough to let him get close to you.

But it was fine. He just wanted to be friends. You were off-limits.

-*-

Ace closes the jeep door with a bang and turns the ignition, the windshield wipers swiping into action instantly as the rain keeps its downpour. It's not supposed to be dark yet, but the storm makes everything bleak and grey.

And he's so afraid.

It can't be you. It's not you. He's going to help whoever this person is and then he's going to find out that you never left home because your car didn't start. And you just couldn't contact him because of the lines.

That is it. It isn't you. It can't be you.

No, no, no, please God, no!

-*-

When you called Shanks because your car wouldn't start, Ace immediately offered to pick you up. Shanks looked at him with a sidelong glance, especially after the battery remark he made to you. As if an older man wasn't aware of toys.

“Freaking kids think they know everything.”

But then he agreed, simply because he had a lot of work to do on the property and picking you up would interfere with his plans.

And the sight of you bending over the hood of your car in that little dress, leaving the lowest part of your butt cheeks exposed, almost gave him a heart attack. Damn, how could you be so cute without even trying? That was what made you even more alluring to him. He couldn't stop the flirty remarks from slipping out of his mouth and seeing you flustered was just the icing on the cake.

That car almost hitting you had made his heart jump into his throat. What a freaking reckless driver. He barely noticed that he had pulled you into a tight hug, gripping you as if he were about to lose you.

Except Ace, true to his nature, couldn't help but flirt with the girls who called for his attention. He thrived on attention, he knew that it was a terrible fault.

One of many.

And if at first he didn't realise why you had suddenly become so pissed at him and his behaviour, as soon as you snapped it hit him. And you were right. He gave those nicknames to girls because it was easier. He wouldn't get attached this way. He never meant to get attached.

But you…

Damn you were built differently. And he had to stop thinking about you like that. Because you deserved much better than a good-for-nothing man like him.

-*-

He knows he can't go over the limit. He's a firefighter. He knows the risks and the roads are like butter.

Yet he can't stop his foot from pressing on the accelerator. Even though he knows it can't be you. It really can't.

You said you loved him. He needs to let you know he feels the same.

It can't be you.

“Fuck!” He growls as his hand hits the steering wheel and his foot presses down further.

As soon as his eyes spot the crashed car, his heart sinks and his breath catches in his throat.

It's your car.

-*-

The first time you exchanged messages he had the silliest grin pulling at his lips. You were actually responding to his flirts and, for some otherworldly reason, you apologised to him.

He didn't really think you needed to apologise, but if you were being nice to him, he wasn't going to deny you anything.

He craved to see you, to hear you, to touch you.

You wouldn't believe how happily surprised he was when he saw you on your morning run. Obviously he had to tease you, taunt you into a little bet.

Winning a kiss was a long shot. He made the pitch but didn't expect you to accept at all. When you did, he almost wanted to sprint so he could win right away. But he managed to keep his cool.

Barely.

When you tripped and Ace grabbed you, he felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. It was the way you smelled. Like some sort of flowers - from your shampoo, probably - and the natural tanginess of your sweat. It beckoned to him, leaving him breathless and dazed.

It also didn't help that you were flush against him, your breasts heaving as your chest pressed against his. It filled his head with lewd thoughts and suddenly all he wanted was to have you squirming beneath him, panting for a whole different reason, sweating from ecstasy and not effort.

It was a good thing you were distracted and didn't notice the hunger in his eyes, because he would have devoured you right there.

When the time for the kiss neared and he had you pinned against the fence, his eyes darkened at the sight of your parted lips and the way you gasped slightly as he lifted your chin with two fingers. It took all the self-control he possessed to turn his face at the last possible second so that his kiss landed mostly on your cheek.

His heart thumped like a drum against his chest and, for once, he was glad he listened to his brain instead of his urges. Otherwise it would have been very hard to stop at just a kiss.

And he had to keep reminding himself that you were off-limits. That he couldn't treat you as a one-night stand.

Even though he was starting to realise that you might be more than just a one-night stand.

-*-

Ace has enough judgement to park the car on the side of the road with the blinkers on to prevent further accidents, yet he sprints out in a rush, completely ignoring Marco as he approaches you.

The unending litany of ‘No, no, no, please God, no!’ keeps leaving his lips as if it were a prayer.

As soon as his eyes meet your face, tears start to mingle with the heavy rain pouring down. Through the broken window he realises that the airbags have deployed and are now deflated and you are slumped over the steering wheel. Your face is covered in blood from a cut on your forehead and there are shards of glass on your arms. Your side of the car is crumpled from the impact and, as he tries the door, he finds that it's jammed.

Worse, you're unconscious.

His hand reaches in as he checks you and he almost freezes in place. You're not breathing.

“I'm here, babe. I've got you. I've got you.” He murmurs the words to you and keeps repeating another set in his head:

No, no, no, please God, no!

-*-

Ace couldn't get you out of his head. He tried to distract himself with music, movies, even a book! Yet he kept thinking about your body close to his, your parted, panting lips and the way your eyes fluttered closed before he approached you. His body betrayed him and he kept thinking about the way your lips would feel against his, or how your skin would mould so well against his fingers.

He needed to be with you.

Even if it was just to see you, talk with you and spend time breathing the same air as you. He felt as if he was going crazy. He knew how desire felt, he had wanted other girls before - normally fulfilling that need quickly - but with you, he began to understand that it was deeper than just urges that needed to be met.

So when you knocked on the fire station door, he was set on talking with you, opening himself up and listening to what you had to say. Create a friendship. A steady base to build trust upon. He could do that. He knew he was a good friend.

He just wasn't expecting to see you looking like that when he opened the door. Thighs exposed, just a little, a cheeky grin on your lips and your smell, God, your smell. It had been years since he had been this nervous around a girl.

You did something to him that he couldn't quite explain.

Especially to his heart. Should he see Law at the clinic about it? It had been beating strangely for a while.

Deuce behaved like an idiot, as usual, and insisted on seeing you, which made Ace jealous. Curious. He was not usually the jealous type. Mainly because he was never with a girl long enough to be jealous of her being around other guys, or because, even if she did, he wasn't interested enough to be jealous.

Except with you… Damn… he felt a strange burning flame inside him roar to life. It was as if he wanted to keep you forever, to make you his.

-*-

Ace runs to the passenger’s side of the car and tries the door, cursing loudly when it doesn't budge. Using his elbow and not caring one bit about getting cut, he shatters the glass, taking care to do it gently so as not to hit you with more shards. Reaching in with trembling hands, he unlocks the door and climbs inside.

“I'm here love. I'm here. You're going to be fine. I'll get you out.” He keeps murmuring.

His fireman training does not fail him as removes the seat belt and carefully manoeuvres you out of the car, gentle hands supporting your head and neck, trying to hurry, but doing everything in his power to be careful.

“There, see, we're out. Come on baby. Breathe for me.”

He sets you down on the wet, muddy road and tilts your head back to clear your airways, his fingers pressing gently against your face. Your skin feels cold and clammy to the touch and his tears keep falling and mingling helplessly with the rain.

No, no, no, please God, no!

“Breathe, baby!” He pinches your nose as he leans down and huffs two breaths into your unmoving lungs.

Nothing.

A ragged sob makes his shoulders heave before he places his hands against your chest and starts CPR.

“You can't leave me now!” He whispers your name. “Fight!”

No, no, no, please God, no!

-*-

The day after your visit to the fire station had Ace walking on cloud nine. When he took girls to the station, it was not just for talking. Never just for that.

Let alone speak about his worries and how he feels regarding his grandfather. Yet, with you, it felt natural, easy, nice. He wanted to get to know you and wanted you to get to know all of him.

So he couldn't stop his silly grin from making his freckles dance.

Not even when his grandfather asked him why he was behaving so foolishly. He kept raving about you, how you'd grown up, how interesting you were, how happy you made him feel.

Garp was grinning and shaking his head by the end of lunch, calling him a lovesick fool, and it took him a while to realise that he might be becoming just that. Because he didn't remember feeling this way about any girl. Ever.

Even Garp’s cleaning lady noticed the way he was acting when she was cleaning his room, a mocking smile on her face as she closed the curtains of his room, to keep the afternoon sun out, after finishing.

He kept wanting to talk to you, but you took so long to answer his texts that he thought he had done something wrong. Again. When you finally reached out, he had to hear your voice. And he ended up talking with you until dinner time. Time flew when he was spending it with you. And he'd be damned if he wanted it to end.

At the party he was very excited to see you. His heart kept thrumming against his chest as if he were some lovesick teenager and he had to ask Sanji to make him an extra strong drink because he was nervous to see you.

As it turned out, you ended up drinking his drink and a whole bottle by yourself, as if you were trying hard to get wasted, only he didn't know why. But you looked wonderful in that tight red dress. More than wonderful, actually. You were breathtaking. And he had to keep telling his and Luffy's friends that you were off-limits.

Even to himself.

He needed a constant reminder of that important fact as well. But it was damn hard to restrain himself once he took you away from the party to nurse your drunken self, and you sat on his lap and told him to kiss you. To have you. To fuck you.

He didn't know how he managed to do it or where he found the strength or willpower, but he pushed you away from him. With his heart hammering, cock twitching and lips tingling to taste every inch of you.

But not like this.

He wanted to have you, he couldn't wait to hear your pretty voice moaning his name or how melodic your mewls and sighs would sound in the throes of pleasure. How you'd writhe and squirm under his touch or how you'd beg for him when he teased you.

But you were drunk. It wasn’t okay.

And after he put you to sleep and the party lulled and ended in the wee hours of the night, he returned to his room, having declined advances from many pretty girls, like he had been doing since you had crashed into his life unannounced but not at all unwanted. He watched your sleeping form for who knew how long, before his eyes grew drowsy and he fell asleep on the floor, close to you. Hearing you breathe, sensing your presence and smelling your scent. A scent you'd leave on his sheets for days that were bound to give him the best and most tortuous dreams of his life.

How he wished he could wrap his arms around you.

The harsh reality came crashing down - literally - on him in the morning and with you straddling him. Barely having a sense of what was going on, having just woken up, the first thing he realised was that you were squirming and grinding against his cock which was hard already because he couldn't quite discern if this was a dream or reality.

Begging you to stop squirming and digging his fingers deep into the flesh of your hips grounded him. It was reality. And by heaven above, you on top of him, looking all flustered and dishevelled, as if you'd just ended a steamy makeout session, had him seeing white as he gripped you hard to avoid losing control and kissing you. You were so fucking perfect.

And then you told him: ‘don't do that’, which he immediately thought that you were talking about the kiss that he wanted to give you, so he got up. Upset, frustrated and hit hard by the reality of the situation.

You'd never think of him as more than a friend. You'd never trust him enough to realise you were special to him.

More than just any girl.

You were the girl.

-*-

Ace keeps counting aloud, forcing the words out of his mouth to stay in control. Begging for his training to ground him, before he loses himself in agony and pain.

“One, two, three…”

Two breaths of air straight into your lungs, another moment to see if your chest moves.

Nothing.

Desperation sinks in and makes his hands tremble. The cold rain is relentless against his skin and yours, turning everything bleak and sorrowful.

“Baby, please, please! Breathe!”

He continues administering CPR, his own breath coming in short gasps as tears and ragged sobs make his shoulders heave and shake.

“Come back to me…” He mutters to the wind, hoping that, wherever you are, his words can reach you.

-*-

Ace's day hadn't started well after that debacle, but that all changed when he saw you by the window, clad in nothing but a very small towel. You apologised for your behaviour over the phone and his heart sank further.

As if it could be any more obvious that you did not want to be with him. You had the perfect excuse: alcohol.

Yet, he could hardly be upset with you when you spoke in your sweet voice telling him you liked that he called you Firestarter. It made his stomach somersault and his heart skip a beat. So much so that he decided to make plans to meet at the Jubilee. Because he couldn't wait to see you again.

He needed to be near you. That much he had made peace with.

Now he just needed to prove that he could be good for you, that he could help you heal, and that you two could work as a couple.

Easier said than done, really.

He had been selling calendars for a while at the Jubilee, making small talk with girls who approached the stand giggling, interacting with friends and acquaintances and even entertaining some kids who wanted to try on the fireman’s equipment.

Yet, his peripheral vision had been on alert since dinner time - the time you told him you would come by - and, as soon as he spotted you, he grinned and told Luffy and his coworkers that he was going on his break.

The opportunity to show you how he felt about you presented itself earlier than expected. As he held you in his arms, faces inching closer together and his heart beating relentlessly, creating a savage rhythm against his chest, he knew his kiss would show you just how perfect you could be together.

Except the kiss never happened. And Ace wanted to kill Deuce for ruining a perfect moment. Because when you both settled down by the swings and he opened up his heart a little bit, you shut him down by repeating that you’re good friends and that your friendship was important, coldly and harshly reminding him that that’s all you’ll ever be.

Friends.

He was ready to call it a night and didn't want to bother you with his presence anymore because he was being a sourpuss. And it wasn’t your fault! If you were not ready to commit - or didn't want to commit to him - he needed to understand that. And fucking move on.

Yet even if he was done with the night, the night was not done with him, and duty called as he saved a girl from a falling stand. She thanked him, flirted with him, and even slipped him her number with an offer to buy him a drink.

But you made such a ruckus that his eyes wandered to you and he found himself smiling and realising that if you just wanted to be friends, he was fine with it. He would much rather have that, than not have you at all.

So he politely declined the invitation for a drink by the beautiful lady - told her that they definitely should do that, but some other time - and sauntered over to your clumsy side, seeing you try and pick up the mess you made out of Makino’s jewellery stand.

Your playful banter was back on track and it was like your miscommunication issues had never really happened. He was fine with you just being friends. Perfectly fine. Even if he had to repeat it to himself over and over again.

The matching bracelets were just a nice addition to your friendship, even if Makino was making it look like it was something more. And, to be truthful, he found your embarrassed smile and demeanour quite endearing and adorable.

Until the beautiful girl from earlier approached with that drink offer again.

And you bolted out of there as quickly as lightning, giving all sorts of mixed signals, because if you just wanted to be friends, why would you be saddened by him hanging out with another girl?

He saw your tears.

And they troubled him.

-*-

Ace faintly hears the sirens of the fire truck approaching. The storm feeds a distant roar of noise to his eardrums, but the ringing from the shock and despair is what prevails above the noise.

He just wants to hear you breathing.

That’s the sound he wants - needs! - to hear the most. A gasp, a sigh, a cough… he’ll take anything! As long as you come back to him.

“One… two… three…”

Another two breaths of air to revive your lungs, more compressions, more prayers, more whispers, more tears…

He would give all of himself - everything! - if it got you to come back.

“Don’t leave me, love. Don’t leave me…”

-*-

Ace always enjoyed beach parties in the summer. Spirits were high, people were cheerful, and there was always more than one girl willing to go somewhere else with him. Somewhere away from the party where they could have fun.

This party, though, he expected to be different.

He couldn't help but try his luck with you again. Maybe if he kept hanging around you, you could start to see him as more than just a friend. Heaven knew that you two shared the sexual tension of an uncut red wire in a spy movie: just ready to explode at any given moment.

He knew he could be smooth, suave, and charm his way into your heart. Even if it took you a while, he was willing to wait. Now that he'd found you, he was not so willing to lose you.

But none of the smoothness of the universe, nor all the charm in the world, could have prepared him for the vision of loveliness that you provided. Lulled by the soft splashes of the waves and the echoing calls of gulls, you stood at the edge of the ocean, sunbathed and glowing as if you were something out of a myth. Your hair blew in the wind and your eyes were closed, keeping out all the chaos of the outside world and losing yourself inside your mind.

A silent tear escaped your closed eyelids and a soft smile plastered upon your lips. He would take this sight with him to the grave because he had never seen anything - or anyone - so perfect.

He almost felt out of place as he called your name, slowly waking you to the reality of the party and his company. But he felt entirely whole when you grabbed his hand and watched the sunset by his side.

You belonged together. He knew that. And he fought hard against the urge to pull you close.

The perfect moment ended too soon and the party continued. He kept being requested by friends, and girls and more friends and once he made his way back to you, he was already a bit tipsy and you seemed more than upset with him.

Plus, you didn’t even have the matching bracelet he bought you.

Not only was he jealous of Sanji and the smiles you shared with the blonde, but he was once again reminded that he meant nothing to you, as you slithered out of his embrace, albeit with a lot of rubbing and sinful looks, but not one single sympathetic glance his way. You were pissed.

At him.

And that was perfectly clear once he saw that bastard Lucci rubbing against you at the dance floor. Jealousy took over, and he decided to pay you back in kind, not knowing if you would really care, but he couldn’t sit still and watch another guy flirt with you.

It was driving him insane.

Obviously Nami knew all the right ways to rile people up, and soon enough he was kissing one of the girls at a game of truth or dare. She was annoying, clingy, had a shrill voice, smelled of tobacco and felt so wrong against him. But you were busy as Lucci was whispering into your ear, so he had to keep up the facade.

Until he couldn’t any more. Because when Nami dared you to kiss Lucci and you acquiesced - oh, look at that, you actually had the bracelet, it was just him that wasn't good enough to touch you - the fire in his belly roared and ignited into a hellish flame and he couldn’t take it anymore.

So he left to vent. He didn’t even care if you went home with Lucci.

Liar.

He cared, obviously. It would kill him and tear his heart into tiny, irreplaceable pieces. But he was just a friend to you. Right?

Maybe not, because you came after him, arguing as if you were two crossed lovers, seeing who could scream louder and who was pettier. Until he spoke aloud about the desire he felt to kiss you. And you dared him to.

Time stood still and there was only you and him. You in his arms and his lips on yours. Tongues swirling as hot kisses ignited the embers of passion. Fuck, he had never felt like this. You were consuming his very being and he wanted to burst into ashes and disappear into your kisses.

This was perfect. You were perfect. You and him together were perfect.

And how he hoped nothing could ruin it.

Until it did.

-*-

As soon as the fire truck stops, its sirens blaring, and lights casting reflections against the puddles on the floor, Luffy rushes to Ace’s side, his expression turning into pained surprise once he sees you breathless and looking quite frail in his brother’s arms.

“Ace!” He manages to sputter, a distressed wail escaping his lips.

“One… two… three…” Two breaths. Nothing. “Luffy! The EMTs?” He doesn’t stop. He never stops.

“They were right behind, they should be here any second… Ace…”

Luffy sets a hand on Ace’s shoulder and squeezes. But Ace doesn’t want to stop. He won’t give up on you. Not now, not ever! You were so hard to win over, he’s not a quitter! He will never quit on you. Ever!

“Come back, Firestarter. I need you…”

-*-

He was never a quitter, so he didn’t stop calling and texting you, trying to reach you after that disaster at the beach party. He didn’t want to be with any other girl. He just wanted you. Always you.

So he didn’t quit.

He called Shanks and asked about you, if you were alright, if you could call him back, but when Shanks told him that you didn’t want to speak with him and told him to go to hell, he faltered. He thought about quitting.

You were so pissed at him.

Would you even listen to what he wanted to say? He knew apologies wouldn’t cut it, but he had to try. He couldn’t bear the thought of you hating him, or shutting him out. Of never wanting to speak to him again, for how could he live without your voice, your smile, your laughter?

He’d had a taste of you. He was addicted. He would never give you up.

Going by Shanks’ house might not have been his brightest idea, but it was the best he could come up with since you didn’t want to talk to him and had been avoiding him all day. When Shanks told him you still didn’t want to see him, he saw red. How could he make it up to you?

To help with the racking guilt and despair, Shanks was also pissed at him for hurting his babygirl. Like he would ever do that willingly. It took Ace a while, but he managed to clear the facts with Shanks and to assure him that his intentions towards you were the most honourable ones.

He loved you. And he told Shanks that. He told him he had never, ever, felt this way about a girl before and, after some coaxing, Shanks finally believed his words. He even said he would try to plead his case.

Which was true, because after a few hours he called Ace saying you were stranded in the middle of nowhere and you needed a ride. Then he gave Ace a full speech on responsibility and treating his little girl right and a bunch of other stuff Ace didn’t really listen to.

All he knew was that he had his chance to apologise. To make it right. To win you over.

And he’d be damned if he let that go.

So you talked, he apologised, you heard him and asked questions and he could feel you softening to him and getting closer to him. He had his shot at you. He wouldn’t miss it.

And he didn’t. The night was perfect, you were perfect and, once again, he was reminded that together you were perfect. You made him promise not to break your heart. Hell, he didn’t even think about that. He never wanted to let you away from his arms, from his lips or from his touch. Let alone drive you away for something random.

He was yours and you were his, in the sense that he knew he couldn’t live without you by his side, nor did he want to spend a day without your voice, or your smile or hearing your breath.

Eternity. That’s what he would like. An eternity with you.

Was it possible?

-*-

“No, no, no! This is impossible, it can’t be happening! Loof, where are the EMTs!?” Ace’s desperate voice is charged with agony and despair, rubbing it off on his brother who has kneeled down next to you and taken over chest compressions for Ace.

As if answering his own question, an ambulance screeches to a halt next to the fire truck, and two EMTs rush out, gear in hand, and make their way to your side.

“Ace, she’s drenched. They can’t use the defibrillator like this. We need to move her inside the ambulance.”

“Fuck!” Ace curses, his frustration palpable as he continues performing CPR. He never stops, he can’t stop.

-*-

Your voice was so sweet beneath him, asking him not to stop, to go harder, to give you more, please, please, please.

Your mewls and pleas, your body writhing with passion and desire, your little gasps and beads of sweat glistening between your breasts.

God.

He couldn't get enough of you. You were so addictive.

He didn't want to let you go. Ever.

-*-

The EMTs transfer you to a gurney with the help of Ace and Luffy and quickly move you inside the ambulance. Ace feels an icy chill, and he knows it’s not from the relentless pouring rain.

He’s scared. He’s terrified.

He doesn’t want to lose you. He never wants to let you go.

-*-

Somehow the bliss that had surrounded you both fell apart quickly and Ace’s left to wonder what happened. You were having the sweetest of dates and the ending would promise so much more. He was ready to tell you he loved you.

He didn’t even care if it was too soon.

All he knew was that he was bursting at the seams with feelings of yearning, longing, passion, desire and so much love. He needed to tell you. Even if you didn’t feel the same yet. He was willing to wait.

He would move mountains for you.

You were worth the wait.

-*-

The wait seems endless. The EMTs are cleaning your chest as best as they can before applying the defibrillator. Seconds tick by relentlessly.

Realistically, Ace knows that he’s only been performing CPR on you for around five minutes before the EMTs arrived. He knows it seems like it was much longer, but it wasn’t.

What he doesn’t know, however, is how long you stood without breathing in your wrecked car. And that can improve or impair your odds significantly.

And Ace, despite his name, has never had much luck with gambling.

-*-

He hated games of chance. Whatever he betted on, he always ended up losing more than he gained. And now he was so afraid that his loss would be the biggest one yet. And the hardest one to recover from.

You needed time to process.

The girl you spoke with planted the seeds of doubt deep in your mind and you were watering them with your thoughts and past traumas. Despite anything Ace told you, any demonstration of feelings, you were out of his reach for now.

Time to process.

What did that mean? Were you going to ghost him again? For how long? Could he endure it?

He could barely hold back tears as you climbed the steps to your porch and disappeared inside the house. How could he convince you that you were the one he wanted? No matter how many girls from his past came back claiming him?

None of them ever meant anything.

You were the one.

The only one.

-*-

“Clear!”

Your chest heaves and your back arches as the jolt of electricity courses through you. Ace holds his breath the entire time. Silent tears framing his face, his freckles almost invisible against his pale skin.

The EMTs carry on with the CPR and Ace climbs by your side, taking care to steer away from his colleagues, not wanting to hinder your rescue.

His hand brushes your wet hair away from your face and he can’t help but notice how cold you feel. Pressing his forehead against yours, he whispers your name, jaw clenching, fighting back tears, holding onto hope as if it’s the only lifeline pulling him through the void of despair and uncertainty.

“I love you.” He whispers into your hair.

He can’t lose you.

It’s too much to bear and his heart's already breaking apart. He can almost hear it shattering: a fragile sound like crystal, delicate and sharp, splintering into countless irretrievable pieces.

He won’t give up.

Not now.

“You’re the one. The only one. You always have been.”

His words seem final but he isn’t resigned. He can’t live a life without you. It’s too much. Too painful, too meaningless.

His eyes close, and a distressed wail escapes his lips as an eternal silence surrounds you both.

Until you gasp, inhaling a deep breath, your hands flailing as you blink, adjusting to the light and the sounds. Life breathing back into your lungs, you begin to feel the slow but unmistakable return of awareness, each breath bringing clarity to the fog of unconsciousness.

But you’re not alone.

Ace is there. Ace is with you.

He will always be with you.

#one piece #one piece x reader #op #x reader #ace x reader #ace x you #modern day au #portgas d ace #the meet cute #portgas ace x reader #Spotify

97 notes · View notes

ethanmorales · 1 year ago

Text

Misconceptions

All Parts Now Posted - Masterlist

Part 1 - Ablaze

Pairing: Ethan Morales x reader 1.3k words Tags: make out, angst Warning: swearing

My fingers grazed against his chest and as I let my hand wander down his torso, I felt every muscle under twitch in anticipation. I looked up at his face and he was already looking at me with a mixture of lust and longing.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

Oh and I missed him. For what other reason would I have climbed through his window at 2:12 in the morning?

But I didn’t say it back. That’s what got us into this mess in the first place. Me caring. Me wanting him so bad it hurt. Me falling while he was always just having a good time.

“Babe?”

I looked up at him, pulled out of my thoughts by his inquiring tone.

“Just kiss me,” I demanded.

He only hesitated for two seconds, just briefly enough for his brown eyes to send a silent question, “everything okay?” But his mouth never asked; it was too busy connecting with mine in a blazing kiss that threatened to consume me, him, both of us together.

Everything was on fire. Everywhere he touched. Everywhere he kissed. My skin burned with his touch and for it. We barely paused for breath as he laid me down on his bed. He unlinked our mouths long enough to grab the hem of my shirt and help me out of it. Then we lit up again.

I glided my fingers in the soft waves of his hair as his mouth found the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. His teeth gently grazed against the skin, just enough for me to feel the pressure but not enough to cause pain and then his tongue followed. He started trailing downward to my chest with that same technique.

"Ethan." It was a half-whispered moan. I say half whispered because it was not as quiet as I intended it to be.

At his name, he looked up at me, smiling that damning adorable smile of his and placed a finger over my lips.

"My parents' sleep next door."

He was better at whispering than I was. Probably had more experience at this kind of clandestine middle of the night type of encounter. Before the bitter thought took full effect in my head, his mouth clashed against mine in another fiery kiss. Almost like he wanted to distract me from my own thoughts.

It was working.

The kiss that started like a flame scorching through us with intensity and desperation, simmered down into a heart wrenching slower tempo. Our mouths molded together, his tongue slow danced with mine in perfect unison... and I was lost.

Lost to the sweet taste of his lips. Lost to the movement of his pelvis against mine and the calculated motions building up the fire that he had awoken in me. Though we still had enough clothing separating us from the fusing of our bodies, it didn't dampen the ever-present ache within me.

With the way he touched me, you would think he felt the same.

So, I was lost. Lost in the depths of longing. Longing for this guy that could never ever reciprocate such feeling in return.

I pushed away from him as abruptly as I had the thought. I was met by a look that someone that didn't know him would think is concern. But I knew better.

"I have to go." My words practically a mumble.

"What?" he seemed disoriented in a way, his eyes searching for something in mine that I didn't want him to find.

"It's late," I said, "If we wake up your parents, they'll disown you for real this time."

Ethan's eyes though still confused, hid partially away by the appearance of his mischievous smile, "So what? They've disowned me like 50 times already. Just this year."

I rolled my eyes.

"You say that with so much pride," I whispered, simultaneously pulling myself out of his grasping hands. I heard him groan in protest behind me as I pulled my shirt over my head.

"Because the shit they say doesn't mean anything. They think that by acting like they're disappointed in me, I'll just magically turn into the son they always wanted. It's bullshit."

I shook my head at this rant and turned to face him. He had gotten up from the bed as well and was less than two feet away from me.

"If you really didn't care, you wouldn't' have shushed me earlier. But God knows you're too cool to admit to caring about anything so I'm not having this argument with you." I sounded defeated. He noticed the change in my tone immediately, his eyes narrowed.

"Why do we have to argue at all? There are way more fun things that we could be doing right now." Even as he said it, I could see that he didn't mean it. Something in his expression closed off at my previous comment.

"I have to be up early anyways," I said gently.

"Sure. Whatever." He walked towards his window. I followed behind until we were in front of it.

I looked up at him. He didn't seem to want to look me in the eye as he avoided my gaze. I gave up.

"Okay. I'll see you around then."

My voice was small, and I hated myself for it. This is where we end up every time. I understand that he has never claimed to be anything but who I've always known him to be, but can you blame me for wanting more? I'm only human. And I know... that's it's wrong that I want him to change for me. I should be accepting him as he is or staying away from him, but I can't. The harder I try, the easier it is for me to end up here with him. Stuck in this goddamn tragic loop of ours.

I shake my head to myself and throw a leg over the windowsill. As I push myself out and my feet touch the freshly cut grass of his backyard, I thank God he lives in a one-story home.

When I turn to close his bedroom window, he stops me with a hand over mine. I move mine away and he frowns. He proceeds to climb out of his window.

"What?" I ask, unable to keep the edge out of my voice. I was already too emotionally drained to hide my upset.

He blinks with confusion. "What am I doing wrong?"

I huff but say nothing.

He sighs, "How do I stop upsetting you if you won't tell me what it is that you're upset about?"

I snap. "You. You are the reason I'm upset!"

His eyes widen, "What about me? "

I want to tell him. I want to tell him everything. All the things he makes me feel; good and bad. My fears. My thoughts. But I can't. Because I know what he will say.

"I didn't sign up for this".

"We had a deal."

"Don't start getting clingy."

I've heard it all come out of his mouth before. Not with me. With the many girls I've seen him with. But still. I refuse to make the mistakes the rest of them did. I will never admit that I had fallen for him. Not now. Not ever.

I held his gaze for a second, but his beautiful brown eyes made my poor heart flutter uncomfortably in my chest. I look away.

"Nothing, sorry. I really gotta go. I get cranky when I don't sleep."

I start turning around to leave, but then feel his arm snake around my waist and pull me in against him, leaving no space between us.

I look up at him in a question. His eyes scanned my face for something, though I'm not sure what.

"Liar."

That's all he says before his mouth crashes over mine.

I didn't want it. The rational part of me knew that I should back off and walk away. But as soon as his tongue invades my mouth, the heat of our flame sears through my whole being... and we're back to where we started.

To be continued...

__________________________________

A/N: Haven't written in ages. But after watching season 4 of Never Have I Ever.... I had to. My goodness, Ethan got me feeling all kinds of things lol. Made a new blog just to write this without judgement. Let me know if you want a part 2. I feel like this might deserve another part. Or maybe I can turn it into a series? Let me know if you liked it and I'll write more :)

Update: will be doing a part two! Maybe 3... we shall see :D

#michael cimino #Ethan morales #never have i ever #paxton hall yoshida #devi vishwakumar #ben gross #nhie #nhie s4 #never have i ever season 4 #ethan morales x reader #angst #ethan morales fanfic #ethanmorales #ethanmorales fanfic

950 notes · View notes

lateatnewyork · 10 months ago

Note

Hi, could I request a Bodhi fluff prompt number 1? I think it would be something he would say to his partner, since Xaden mentionned that Bodhi was possesive in Iron flame when he saw Violet wearing his flight jacket.

I hope you don't mind that I'm joining your two requests together 💕

Second request: "Hi! Could I request a Bodhi smutt prompt 31? Like maybe he came to visit after graduating Basgiagth? Thanks in advance, there's not enough Bodhi fics :))"

Missed You

Bodhi Durran x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, swearing, fluff, breeding kink?

Prompts: Fluff - "You look really good in my clothes”, Smut - "Show me how much you missed me.”

Summary: Bodhi was stationed a post far away from you, and you hadn't expected him back so early. He intends to show you just how much he has missed you.

a/n: i agree, bodhi does not get enough love, i haven’t read fourth wing or iron flame in a while so sorry if things aren’t exactly the same 🫶🏻 as always unedited

I stand in the kitchen, with my hands on my hips, my eyes glaring at the ingredients I have laid out on the counter. Bodhi is coming home tonight after 2 months stationed at some post.

Gods I missed him.

“I could make a cake,” I mumble to myself.

No, I’ve done that too many times.

I continue glaring at the ingredients as if they have some hidden answer in them.

“Fuck it I’m making the cake,”

I had just put the cake in the oven, elbows deep in flour.

The door unlatched but I couldn’t hear it over the sound of the tap running.

“Hi my love,” I hear a deep voice behind me. Gasping, I run to Bodhi, jumping into his arms.

Kissing him hard on the lips, I savoured the taste of him. His strong arms wrapped under my thighs to hold me up. Pulling away, I try to catch my breath from that knee weakening kiss.

If Bodhi hadn’t been holding me, I definitely would’ve fallen.

“Missed you” he mumbles against my lips, I giggle and whisper “I missed you too baby”.

“Oh shit I have flour all over me,” I stammered, “I’m gonna get it all over your clothes”.

“I don’t care,” he retorts pulling me closer “Did you know how beautiful you look?” he gazes deep into my eyes. “Even like this?” I chuckle.

“Especially like this, makes me wanna get you all nice and round with my kids,” he groans out.

“What are we waiting for then Lieutenant, show me how much you missed me,” I commanded.

A cheeky grin crosses his lips, “Gladly”.

Gripping onto his shirt, I yelp as he carries me over his shoulders and runs up the stairs and to our bedroom.

"Bodhi, I swear to fucking god if you drop me, I'll gut you," my head bobbles as his grip on my thighs tightens. I gulp at the feeling, hopefully he doesn't notice.

"Have more faith in me darling," his hand loosens and just as I'm about to start yelling again it comes in contact with my ass, a loud slap echoing.

"Bodhi!" I gasp, about to lecture him again when I realise that I can pinch his butt.

And that's exactly what I do. His reaction is more milder to mine, probably because he isn't being carried over someone's shoulder.

"Didn't know you were an ass kind of lady, sweetheart," he chuckles.

"It's hard not to be when my husband has such fat ass," I grin.

He pushes me against the door and kisses me hard. His lips find mine in a hungry, passionate kiss, his lingering touch conveying the depth of his longing. The intensity of his desire for me is palpable as he holds me tightly, cherishing the moment of reunion after being apart for so long.

I deepen the kiss, my lips hungry and insistent against his. With a firm yet gentle touch, he begins to skillfully remove my clothing, his hands tracing the curves of my body with reverence. Each garment falls away, revealing my bare skin to his hungry gaze.

As my body is exposed to him, he takes a moment to stare at me. "Bloody hell, you're stunning," he whispers, his voice filled with genuine awe. The way his skin glows under the dim light, the way my curves beckon him closer, it's all too tempting to resist.

I begin to rid him of his own clothing, each piece discarded with urgency. The room fills with the sound of fabric hitting the ground as the anticipation builds between us. I pull away from the kisses, admiring the sight of Bodhi towering over me.

Closing the distance between us, I pull him into another passionate kiss, our bodies pressed together. My hands roam his exposed skin, exploring every inch with a mix of passion and hunger. The heat between us intensifies, and I can feel the electricity building in the air as our desire intertwines.

In this moment, there's nothing else that matters. It's just him and me, consumed by a primal need for each other.

"Please Bodhi I need you" I whimper out.

He pauses for a moment, his intense gaze locked with mine. I can see the raw desire in his eyes, the vulnerability in my plea. A flicker of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he leans in closer, his voice a low, gravelly whisper.

"You need me that bad love?" he responds, my tone laced with a mix of arrogance and satisfaction. "Well, lucky for you, I'm right here."

Without further hesitation, he guides us towards the bed, his touch firm and commanding. Bodhi presses me down onto the mattress, his body hovering above mine. My hands roam his body, igniting every nerve with a teasing touch. I can sense his anticipation, his craving for the connection we share.

Leaning in, I capture your lips once more in a searing kiss, my tongue dancing with his. I can feel the urgency building as our bodies meld together, the heat between us becoming undeniable. With each touch, each caress, he makes it clear that he's here to fulfill my every desire.

"Tell me, love," he murmurs against my skin, his breath hot against my ear. "Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you. I'll take you to places you've never been before."

"I want you in me, Bodhi" I whine out.

A wicked grin spreads across his face as he hears my plea. The sound of my need ignites a primal hunger within him, pushing him further into his dominant nature. Bodhi positions himself between my legs, my gaze locked with his as he slowly enters me, inch by inch.

"You want me in you, love?" he growls, his voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and possessiveness. "You're going to get exactly what you need."

With each thrust, our connection deepens, savoring the way his cock hits that spot in me. My moans and whimpers echo in the room, fueling his desire to give me pleasure beyond measure. He sets a rhythm, his movements steady and powerful, ensuring that every stroke hits the right spot.

As he watches I surrender to the pleasure, he praises me in his rough, sex-laced voice. "That's it, love. Take me. Take all of me," he encourages me, his voice laced with a mix of dominance and adoration. "You feel fucking amazing. So tight and wet for me."

He continues to move within me, my hands scratching into your back, pulling him impossibly close to me. I revel in the feeling of our bodies moving together in perfect harmony, lost in the intoxicating dance of pleasure.

"You were made for this, love," Bodhi whispers, his voice husky with desire. "Made to take my cock. To be fucked by me. You're doing such a good job."

I lose myself in the moment, completely consumed by the passion between us, as we both chase the peak of pleasure, the world around us fading into oblivion.

"Fuck, I'm so close, Bodhi," I moan out.

I can feel the build-up of pleasure coursing through our bodies, the tension reaching its peak. His grip on my hips tightens as he quickens the pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent, fueled by my desperate moans and pleas for release.

"Give in, love," he growls, his voice filled with a mix of need and dominance. "Let go for me. Come undone."

He continues to drive into me, his movements becoming more relentless, chasing both our climaxes. The room is filled with the sounds of flesh agains flesh, the intoxicating symphony of pleasure.

As I feel the waves of pleasure crash over me, I can no longer hold back. I let go, my release washing over me in a powerful surge. "Fuck, Bodhi," I moan, my voice filled with satisfaction. "Shit".

I watch as his body tenses, his groans growing louder as Bodhi reaches his own climax.

"You're beautiful when you come," he whispers in my ear, his voice filled with awe and admiration. "Absolutely fucking beautiful."

We ride out the waves of pleasure together, our bodies intertwined in the aftermath of our passionate union. The room is filled with heavy breaths and the lingering scent of our desire, a testament to the intensity of our connection.

As we come down from our high, he gathers me in his arms, holding me close. "You were made for this, love," he murmurs, his voice filled with tenderness. "You're mine, now and always."

Bodhi got up to clean us off, he comes back with a t shirt of his own and put it over me. "You look really good in my clothes," he grins.

"Can't say the same for you,"

a/n hope u liked this, the cakes probably burnt😭💀

#bodhi durran #bodhi durran x reader #fourth wing #fourth wing smut #rebecca yarros #acourtofswiftiesandshadowdaddies #iron flame #iron flame smut #the empyrean #smut #the empyrean series #post fourth wing #post iron flame

217 notes · View notes

lakesbian · 11 months ago

Text

@simurghed ok here are some miscellaneous nothing thoughts ive had about undersiders team vacation for you. this is my purest form of autism theres literally nothing interesting under this post just a lot of words of me sticking undersiders into situations. thats not intended as self deprecation just fair warning

if they went in a cave where the tour guide is like "DO NOT TOUCH ANY CAVE FORMATIONS or they will BE DESTROYED, FOREVER, after THOUSANDS OF YEARS OF BEAUTIFUL EXISTENCE" brian would immediately proceed to spend the entire tour staring at aisha and alec instead of looking at the rocks and shit and preparing to grab them if either of them attempts to touch a cave formation. alec would accidentally set his hand on one w/o realizing while huffing and puffing his way up stairs or a steep incline but he would be walking behind the rest of the team so no one would notice and he would pretend it didn't happen

brian accidentally slams his forehead into top of low tunnel everyone is walking through and swears for like 20 continuous seconds and then has to go sit somewhere with an ice pack and the entire time hes like I bet aisha and alec are touching so many fucking cave formations right now.

if the undersiders went on a hike or something where there were like. Ledges. over Long Drops. aisha would without doubt go stand on them and dick around in a spry 13yo manner and it would freak brian out so much he would yell Aisha Middle Name Laborn Get Your Ass The FUCK Down From There!!!!! and then she would pretend to be startled like she was about to fall off for a moment and he would almost have a heart attack and he would be so mad for the entire rest of the day and not let her off the trail at all and keep glaring at her

if they went to a beach they could all wear cute little swimsuits...taylor would have a full bodysuit (dark gray) but mostly just spend time sitting in a chair reading. rachie wouldnt wear a swimsuit but she would just take her dogs up and down the beach on walks in normal clothes and maybe get a bit damp anyway. brian would wear swim trunks and a long-sleeved top because he also feels uncomfortable having too much skin exposed but, like, more quietly. aisha is wearing a purple tankini with one of brians giant t-shirts over top. voluntarily, to be clear, ifeel like someone might misinterpret this as "brian made her" but shes doing that on purpose. i also think she has at least one "nightgown" that is fully a massive shirt stolen from brian but thats besides the point. lisa is wearing a purple bikini with one of those like. flowy half-skirts tied around the bottom. and alec is wearing girls swim shorts and one of those sheer white swim cover tops youre supposed to take off before you get in the water except he's not taking it off

aisha keeps pestering alec to go swimming with her and he's like sure ok and lets her drag him in. and then almost drowns because he doesn't know how to swim and figured he could just "wing it." brian has to dredge him out and he spends several minutes coughing up seawater sopping wet style while brian takes the opportunity to lecture about how he's stupid. and then he spends the next half hour after that complaining about how there is Sand up his Buttcrack.

aisha and alec spend literally like over half an hour just standing next to taylors chair pestering her to make a crab rave happen. she tries to ask lisa for back-up but lisa says she also wants to see the crab rave. so it happens. very clandestinely with only a few crabs.

aisha demands a ride on brian's shoulders into the ocean. he obliges. alec demands to get to go next. he is denied, because brian thinks it would be kind of gay. he doesn't say that, but it's what he's thinking.

i think they should get to have the most miserable time on the planet all waiting for their turns to shower off in the hotel room after going swimming. reasonably they would have multiple rooms but i like to envision theres only one and everyone is shivering and holding malicious intent towards whoever is actively in the shower. they make alec go last because they know how he is with long showers and he just kind of sits tragically on the entry tile in a slowly collecting puddle of sandy water and stares into space looking haunted and intermittently shivering

undersiders trip to history museum. undersiders trip to preserved historical building. undersiders trip to preserved fancy mansion. ive posted about this one before but both alec and brian are enjoying it (for different reasons) while aisha HATES it and it's freaking all three of them out a little. alec is performatively trying to pretend he also thinks it's lame because he's (largely platonically) whipped but then he turns around and asks the tour guide an actual question and he and aisha both know that in this moment he has betrayed and abandoned her. they reconcile via shared advocacy for ice cream afterwards

alec vasil hot and tired of walking frow up incident, no deaths, intense injury to one boy's pride and also his shoes

brian laborns intense and immense joy over getting to organize and use the contents of his cargo shorts

the incredible drama of brian laborn trying to parallel park the van in a really tight spot while lisa and taylor both play unwanted spotter for him and he's like Please. just Let me Concentr-. Just let me do what i need to do just be quiet for a minute . they do stop talking for a minute, during which aisha takes the opportunity to start making fart noises

rachel lindt is fitting so many ouppie dogs in the van and theyre just kind of ferreting between everyones legs and climbing onto laps to stick their heads out the windows and shit. this starts off as something everyone but rachel is mad about but settles into a more amenable cuddle pile situation

undersiders go to aquarium or zoo....zoo would be more fun to witness because alec would complain about it being hot + smelling bad the whole time. lisa has the intelligent idea to quiet him with a blue raspberry slushie

speaking of lisa you know shes going into this entire thing like Taylor Specifically has to have the most funnest specialest time ever. shes always like "ok ill read some dinner options off the phone :)" and then all 5 of them are things taylor specifically would love. and so on and so forth.

alec vasil spotted wandering lost and ghostlike in the modern art gallery

i could go on

142 notes · View notes

airrec · 9 days ago

Text

Dreamnoblade Cinderella AU turned sideways bullet point fic

Content warnings: referenced gaslighting, past non-consensual body modifcation by way of fairy godmother, implied one-sided Awesamdream with all that entails, hopeful ending I swear. Very much pre-relationship Dreamnoblade but they're intended to head that direction post-fic.

Turning someone from an animal into a human for fairy godmotherly magical royal ball-related purposes is, ehhh, not without consequences.

Techno can't change back.

Look, he was fine being a hedgehog, okay? Well, it's not like he really had any idea of what he was missing out on - hedgehogs aren't the most intelligent or aware of creatures out there - but he was content snuffling around and just kinda keep on keeping on his way through life.

He can't go back to that, though, so here he is. His social conversation skills are distinctly limited, and his accent just makes people think he's a foreigner who doesn't speak much of the language, but this just works out in his favour by providing him a very convenient excuse for his awkwardness.

He gets a job, with a sharp stroke of luck he feels may have had a hint of fairy godmotherly influence, at the local dye shop and one of the first things he does when he gets his first weekly pay is to dye his own hair bright pink - he has to grapple with stuff like personal identity now, and the soft brown hair the colour of his long-gone fur always catching the corners of his vision was starting to do something unpleasant inside his chest, so away it went.

A couple of months down the line, he sees Dream again.

Dream was always good to him - to all the little garden animals, along with the ones he was actually in charge of - he remembers. Gentle hands brushing down the horses and looking after the hounds in the kennels and scratching the fluffy cheeks of the kitchen cat. Diligently filling the bird feeders and carefully checking the woodpile for mice and hedgehogs like Techno himself, once winter swept in and they started to hibernate.

Dream looks miserable.

Now, Techno wasn't really in the loop with the whys of everything, because quite frankly he was grappling with a lot that night, but he knows that Dream went to some fancy party and didn't make it out when he was supposed to. In fact, he didn't leave the palace at all.

It's weird, because when Dream's companion ushers him into the tailor - directly next to the dye shop - Dream catches his eye and both of them know they recognise each other.

Another week passes before Techno sees Dream again, and this time Dream approaches him and says, "You were the coach driver, weren't you? That night?"

Techno was, so he nods. Dream questions him more, mostly just stating what happened - the fairy godmother, the animals turning into people or into other animals, the magical clothes that appeared in glints and sparks. Techno nods to every one of these. Dream just looks relieved that someone else is agreeing that this course of events is what took place.

"I didn't want this," Dream says, sounding upset, frustrated, maybe even a bit... scared. "I just wanted to go to the ball, to have a good time - dance a bit, eat some fancy food, listen to the music - is that a crime? Now King Awesam won't let me leave, and he keeps trying to tell me that I'm not from where I'm from, or that I've been there longer than I have, or - and he's got everyone else doing it, too! They're all lying to me, and I - it's been terrible, up there."

This sounds like a vast understatement. Dream looks very unwell, if not physically, even to Techno's inexperienced eyes.

"I didn't want this either," he offers, and even if it's the truth it seems like the wrong thing to say, because Dream pales and starts apologising.

As though he could have stopped a fairy, honestly! No one can do that. Techno doesn't know much but he does know that.

"Bruh, ain't your fault," he says, stabbing into the dark for something to make this conversation start going better. "You know how fairies are: everything has a price."

Everything has a price indeed, because at that moment Dream is caught up to by a group of royal guards and swept back up to the palace. Techno narrowly avoids a beating by mumbling and walking away before he can be properly questioned and - that's that, perhaps.

Except no, of course it's not, because once upon a time, back when Techno was just a young thing, huddling down for his first ever winter hibernation, Dream saved his life.

He'd been in the wood pile that had been set aside for some evening bonfire at the lord's estate, unknowing of the danger, and Dream - kind Dream, conscientious Dream, had poked in and around, checking before the event got going, and he'd plucked Techno from his nest before it could turn into his fiery tomb, saving the life of the little hedgehog long before any of this fairy business had ever happened.

So Techno owes Dream. And besides, this King Awesam sounds like a right piece of work, and Techno has lived a whole life being small, in a world where being small is practically a crime for how the small are punished for it. Dream's a different kind of small, and King Awesam a different kind of big, but in the end it's all the same, really.

There's a crow that lives in the tallest tree of the local forest, and Techno knows that this crow is sometimes a man with black crow wings instead.

Sometimes he helps out the creatures of the forest. For a price. Techno doesn't think that some blackberries are going to suffice this time, but - crows like shiny things, right?

He still has that necklace, the one from Dream's outfit that night that changed everything. He'd pulled it off his neck and left it in the carriage, where Techno had found it when he pulled away towards the palace stables, probably because of sensory issues, if Techno had to guess. He'd tried it on himself, just out of curiosity, but it had pinched too much. When the night drew on and Dream never came back and the carriage turned into a pumpkin again but Techno didn't turn back into a hedgehog - he'd taken it with him as he left, escaping the minor chaos.

He takes it with him to barter it for Dream's freedom. He can only hope that it's enough.

(It is.)

(There's a cloud covered night, and a long black rope, and a window open in a room in an isolated tower of the palace.)

(Two men go in, and three men leave.)

#dreamnoblade #dsmpshipping #airrec writes #c!dream #c!techno

38 notes · View notes

faulty-writes · 1 year ago

Note

Hii! I apologize if you keep getting notifications from me at such an hour but I cant get enough of your posts! I love the way you write Tenya!

So if I may trouble you just a bit longer…

Since it’s spooky season, what would your take be on vampire Tenya x f (or gn) reader? And vampire Monoma as well?

[ Oh I like trouble, trust me. Haha. Thank you. I swear I get so many compliments regarding how I write Tenya, makes me so proud of myself. One spooky season request coming up! ]

Despite being what many assumed was a "blood-sucking" creature, Tenya had a sense of elegance and self-discipline because of his upbringing. Yes, he was what most would refer to as a "rich kid" but he was not spoiled in any capacity and often adhered to his own rules which included having manners even when thirsty for blood.

Most found Tenya to be intimidating, but you found him intriguing despite initially being unaware of his true nature. The two of you met in a bookstore late at night and you recall the way he stumbled when he rounded the corner of a bookshelf to find you and the way he bowed and said "Pardon, I was unaware there was another frequenting this shop so late at night."

The two of you began to meet frequently at the bookstore after that, and although you thought it peculiar Tenya only requested to meet you at night. You assumed it was because he was busy during the day but in all truth, he was struggling to avoid revealing his true nature to you and feared that once you found out he was a vampire you'd…well you would not want to see him again.

He slipped one night, after pushing himself too far. Yes, self-control was essential. But one could only contain themselves for so long and vampires were particularly dangerous when deprived of blood. "I…I apologize I…I did not wish for you to see me as such a…monster," while initially a shock, you tried to be accepting and understanding of what he was.

Being the person you were, his vampiric world fascinated you, and he didn't hesitate to teach you about the history of his lineage or his nightly rituals which typically included performing a series of prayers, chants, and such before he drank whatever blood he had managed to obtain.

Unfortunately, Tenya also informed you of the dangerous side of his world. Mostly the rogue vampires who strayed from the societal rules of their world and killed or injured humans during their bloodlust. "I promise, I will not allow harm to come to you. Ensuring your safety is quite a priority." Yes…he would go to whatever lengths he needed to ensure you remained by his side.

To double ensure your safety, Tenya presented you with gifts frequently. Usually, these consisted of protective charms, blessed holy water, and amulets that were believed to ward off bad supernatural threats. Of course, he would never tell you the hoops he had to go through to get such gifts.

Sometimes it was hard to keep up with Tenya's schedule considering he was more active at night. But he assured you that he enjoyed your company and often insisted that you could rest when you appeared extremely tired. Waking up in his bed or falling asleep against his shoulder became a frequent occurrence for you.

His parents were hesitant to accept you and your growing relationship with their son. On the other hand, his brother, Tensei welcomed you with open arms. "It's awesome that my little bro finally found someone! And just to let you know, it doesn't matter if you're human, another vampire, or even a witch. I believe that people who look past such things are the coolest!" It was safe to assume that Tenya got his beliefs from Tensei.

"I believe with enough effort, we may eliminate the prejudice that separates our societies to coexist together in harmony," one of Tenya's deepest wishes was to break the barriers between his and your kind. Although he had not intended to feel affection for you, he did. Yet, he looked at it as the first step to uniting your kind as he dreamed.

Neito, unfortunately, was out of blood and sought to get it fresh from an unsuspecting human. That human happened to be you and he was only attracted to you because of the intoxicating scent of your blood. However, he quickly found that you were not a frail human and stood your ground far more than he expected.

While some would be embarrassed, Neito remained his ignorant self after realizing you were quite the troublesome individual. "How dare you reject me! I am Neito Monoma, and I demand you provide me with your blood!" As far as you were concerned, underneath his vampiric nature was nothing more than a spoiled child and you were prepared to discipline him as needed.

He continued to stalk you, despite finding alternative blood donors because as much as he hated to admit it, he found you intriguing. For a human that is, and used his sharp wit accompanied by playful banter whenever you caught him in his stalking efforts. "Surely you didn't think I'd leave you alone, oh no my dear, quite the opposite. I do not stop until I get what I want and what I want is your blood," and your affection, but he kept that to himself.

Your opinion of him didn't change until you were attacked by another one of his kind. Your guard was down initially because you had mistaken them for Neito, and despite your skills, you were losing the fight until he showed up and saved you. He'd be damned if he let another taste your blood before he got the chance to.

You detested the idea of letting him finally drink from you but considering his courageous actions. You allowed him the opportunity and found that he was surprisingly gentle when feeding from you. "Surely you didn't compare me to such monsters as that rouge one who attempted to take what is mine, how insulting. I pride myself in presentation and manners," he stated, acting just a touch too offended.

Despite not letting many people in, the two of you continued to spend time together, and Neito began to reveal his past. How he came from a high-class family, their rather…unbelievable expectations of him, and how he wishes to break free and prove his own worth to the world. Of course, that was a challenge given the current state of discrimination toward his kind, but he was still determined to do whatever he could to make his dream come true.

He finds himself feeling peaceful when in your presence and this was new to him and something that gave him a sense of belonging. It was almost as if being in your presence kept his demons at bay and he partially wondered if you wore any protection symbols or amulets on your person.

On occasion, Neito would still struggle with the affection he felt for you and his nature. Vampires were strong, drank blood, and didn't hesitate to do what they wanted to obtain said blood. But even though he knew you would allow him to drink from you. He found that he didn't want to cause you any harm and thus the conflict continued but he kept this a secret from you.

Eventually, Neito agreed to allow you to meet his family. Although it was immediately apparent, they detested you merely because you were human and spoke ill of Neito for befriending and furthermore feeling the way he did toward you. "Humans are meant to be our food source, nothing more," they said which caused Neito to argue with them before ultimately dragging you out the door.

Despite your unusual relationship, Neito viewed it as fulfilling his commitment to protect and cherish you for as long as you lived, and from what he understood, that was for a short time. He planned to propose to turn you but decided to wait to bring that up. For now, he'd enjoy your company.

243 notes · View notes

shelbystales · 4 months ago

Text

Best Aid - Part Nine

Modern Tommy Shelby x Reader - Masterlist

Previous parts: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8

Summary: you are a young doctor in Birmingham. After a crazy incident, Thomas Shelby shows up at your hospital. You don’t know much about the man everyone seems to fear, but you definitely will.

Warning: swearing

A/N: Comment and interact, tell me what you think! it means a looot. Hi guyss!!!! long time no see hahaha, sorry for the hiatus, needed some time. Can't promise i'll be back 100% posting every week but i'll try for sure! Gotta say i missed writing :)

English is my second language so I apologize in advance for the grammar mistakes.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

A week has passed since your last conversation with Thomas. In that time, you had only seen each other once when he came to pick up John Doe, now also known as Johnny Dogs. This time apart helped you sort out your feelings about everything you had been through in the past few weeks.

Surprisingly, the week went by like any other. You kept up with your shifts, visited your mom and brother over the weekend, and caught up on your TV series episodes. It felt like everything had returned to how it was before the man with the incredibly blue eyes walked into your emergency room, and you saved him.

Back to your normal and safe routine.

As soon as your shift ended, you joined Jeremy and his fiancé, Alan, for a pizza night at their place. You spent the evening eating, drinking wine, and gossiping about everything, from the most unrealistic romances at the hospital to Alan’s latest work presentation.

The evening turned out better than you imagined. Being in Jeremy's company is always great; he's a clown, constantly making everyone laugh, even if not intended.

Alan, on the other hand, has a geekier style and is a bit more reserved, resembling those cute librarians the main character falls for in a classic romantic movie. They were a perfect match.

After dinner, your stomach ached from laughter and overeating. The fact that you spent the past few hours laughing and getting drunk made you feel like things were back on track again.

You left their place feeling happy and carefree.

The lobby of your hotel was nearly deserted, with only a few employees and scattered guests, which was odd because the hotel restaurant was usually packed at this hour every day.

As you waited for the elevator, the quiet murmur of the lobby was interrupted by two passing employees whispering about the kitchen being closed for maintenance. “An intern messed something up,” the woman said, her voice loud enough for you to catch.

When the elevator doors opened, Thomas stood there, looking effortlessly handsome. Your heart skipped a beat, and your stomach fluttered nervously. When his eyes met yours he gave a small smile.

You smiled back, hoping your voice wouldn’t betray your nerves. "Heading up?" He nodded, and you stepped into the elevator. The space suddenly felt much smaller. His presence, his warmth, and that cologne mingling with the faint buzz from the wine, made your pulse quicken. "I didn't even know there was a floor below us" you chuckled, trying to ease your nerves. “Well, obviously, there are several negative buttons here," you pointed to the panel awkwardly. “Funny… I never noticed it before.”

"Just a few parking levels," he said in his smooth Birmingham accent, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "How are you? You seem happy."

"Well, I am," you smiled, butterflies dancing in your stomach. "And also in urgent need of a shower. But I'm good." You leaned against the elevator wall, the weight of your shift and your growing desire for him pressing down on you.

"Had a good night, eh?" he asked, glancing briefly at the notification on his phone.

"Yeah, trying to enjoy myself before next week," you said, "I have 36 consecutive hours on call."

"That's a lot of hours," he said, his eyes flicking back to the screen as new notifications appeared.

"Yeah, but I'm used to it," you smiled. "Is everything ok?” you wondered what was all the fuzz on his phone.

“Yeah, just having a kitchen mess today” he put his phone back on his back pocket

“I overheard someone mentiion that it’s closed. A result of some sort of an intern’s lack of care?” you said and watched confused as he frowned

“Sure. That's what happened” he let out almost as a whisper "you should know that things will start to calm down," he replied, and your smile grew wider. His words gave you a glimmer of hope.

"Good to hear that! What happened?" you asked almost as an impulse.

“I'm not sure you want me answering that Y/n…” he chuckled as he got a cigarette out of his pockets. Will he light it in here? you wondered, but he simply put it to rest between his lips.

“Right…” You hesitated, your heart pounding, desperate to talk about something else, too afraid to let that subject be the center of your conversation once again. “So, uh, do you have any plans for tonight?” The question slipped out before you could stop yourself, and you immediately regretted it.

Thomas looked at you with a raised eyebrow, a faint smile playing on his lips. His gaze was penetrating, almost as if he could read your thoughts. "Plans?" he echoed, his tone light but curious.

You quickly clarified, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. "Oh, I didn't mean it like that! I was just wondering what you're up to this late at night." You fidgeted with the strap of your bag, trying to appear nonchalant. Begging for the elevator to stop making random stops at almost every floor and finally get to yours, now hating the fact that he gave you one of the top rooms.

Thomas smiled faintly at your question, his eyes studying you for a moment longer than usual. "Polly is traveling, so I'm checking on things for her and the kitching needs some cleaning up. I'm heading to her room to get the master key"

You nod, trying to hide your slight disappointment at his answer. "Oh, that sounds nice of you," you reply, mentally chiding yourself for asking in the first place. It wasn't like you were inviting him or expecting him to join you, right?. The elevator dinged softly as it reached your floor. “Well, I won't keep you. Have a good night, Thomas."

"You too," he said, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer before you turned and walked down the hallway.

The elevator doors slid shut, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Why did you ask that? You mentally scolded yourself again as you walked down the hall to your room as you replayed the encounter in your mind.

Thomas's presence had a way of unnerving you, yet you couldn't deny the flutter of excitement his proximity brought. As you walked you were already mentally planning your night: a hot shower, maybe some Netflix, and straight to bed. That's all you need right now.

As you settled into your room, the encounter with Thomas replayed in your mind again, like a vivid movie scene. His smile was etched into your memory, and the way he looked at you sparked a warmth deep within.

Your phone buzzed with a notification, breaking your train of thought. It was a message from Jeremy, asking if you got home okay. You quickly replied, assuring him you were fine and thanking him for the fun evening.

Setting your phone aside, you found yourself unable to shake the lingering thoughts of Thomas. The way his presence seemed to fill the elevator, the scent of his cologne that still lingered in your mind - it all stirred something unfamiliar yet exhilarating.

Suddenly your mind started to play games with you as it imagined his hands on your skin as he kissed you desperately on the elevator. His lips gently caressing your cheek, making his way to the warmth between your legs…His body pressing yours against the cold elevator wall.. fuck!

You sat on the edge of your bed, a sudden heat spreading through you. You needed a cold shower to cool down and clear your head.

After a refreshing shower that did little to dampen the heat of your thoughts, you settled into the living room, deciding to distract yourself with a Netflix series. The soft glow of the screen and the familiar characters helped ease your mind, at least temporarily. Ozzy nestled at your feet enjoying your presence but trying not to show it, as all cats do.

The characters on the screen moved and spoke, but your mind kept drifting back to Thomas.The more you thought about him, the harder it was to focus on the TV.

Your mind replayed all the moments you had shared, trying to convince your horny mind that it would be a bad bad idea. But you couldn't deny the pull you felt towards him, a magnetic attraction that left you both excited and unnerved.

You sighed and shifted on the couch, trying to shake off the thoughts. But they kept coming, flooding.Remembering the first time you kissed, how you just felt like ripping his clothes apart.

And just like that, loneliness settled over you like a heavy blanket. The silence was too loud, and the emptiness too vast. You looked around, seeking something to occupy your time, but nothing seemed appealing. The wine you had with Jeremy and Alan had left you with a pleasant buzz, a feeling of warmth and courage that now pushed you towards a decision.

Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the loneliness, but suddenly, you found yourself standing up, driven by an impulse you couldn't quite explain. The thought of Thomas dealing with the kitchen mess alone nagged at you. You had nothing better to do, and the idea of being around him again was too tempting to resist.

Without giving yourself time to second-guess, you grabbed the bottle of whisky you opened a few nights ago and headed to the door. The walk to the elevator felt surreal, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness. You pressed the button and waited.

As the elevator doors opened, you took a deep breath and stepped inside. The ride down felt both too quick and agonizingly slow, your thoughts a whirlwind of anticipation. You almost gave up the idea and went back to your room a few times. When the doors opened to the lobby, you made your way towards the kitchen, each step filled with a strange sense of purpose.

You knew it was a bit crazy, but the wine had given you the courage to step out of your comfort zone and yes you needed to fuck, and why the fuck not him?

You reached the kitchen door and paused, taking a moment to steady your breathing and gather the courage to push open the door.

taglist:

@deanlovescassie @hellstears @randomfanfics02 @literishdegree99 @watersquirtpewpewboomm @hellstears @rito4ka @alexxavicry @atomicsoulcollecto @Violet_19999 @lyarr24 @woofgocows @milkshakelol @knowledgefulbutterfly @watercolorskyy @redhead7799 @star017 @stuckinmylittlebubble @bat-luna-cat @babaohhhriley @scullys—alienpussy @kassieesworld @deepangelstudentsworld @batgurl42 @starlitjellyfish @velenzia @lyarr24 @Sweetiecake180 @musicsweetie21 @lostgirl219 @slaypussypop-21 @nyenye @izzwizz774 @ooldcardigan @kielsegur @nikkialex @1nterstellarcha0s @mariamx1 @swingingmusicalfunnydragon @illuminwtesz @lazyylover

49 notes · View notes

cellarspider · 9 months ago

Text

Spider's Big Prometheus Thing: Index Post

Being a list of all the posts produced in the course of this inexplicable project of mine. This project is now complete, at an unexpectedly extensive thirty entries long.

I swear, I didn't intend for it to go like that, but it was fun to write.

All entries have at least a minimum level of citations for where to start looking for more facts on any subject external to the movie itself, which includes everything from how DNA is sequenced to how Nickolodeon slime is made, and from the comedy in mislabeled portraits of early church fathers to the correct attribution of a cat's contributions to historical linguistics.

Be aware that there's also hidden rambling and bonus facts in the image alt text. A lot of them.

0. Introduction

Setting the scene, including my background, my intent, and where this movie is going.

1. Opening

Expectations, landscapes, and aliens.

Rambles: DNA, whether aliens would have it, and why it doesn't look like a pale bacon ladder.

Alt-text rambles: nano-bubbles.

2. Discovery

The Isle of Skye is gorgeous, the movie attempts to establish its themes, and why it had already got my hackles up. Rambles: how cool ancient and pre-modern peoples were, the implications of humanoid figures in European cave paintings, and misplaced lions. Alt-text rambles: seriously, Skye is just so cool. Erich von Däniken and modern publishing royalties are not.

3. David

We meet the loneliest android, and his fandom of choice. Rambles: I go nuts for a paragraph over Proto-Indo-European. Alt-text rambles: Help me remember a dude's name, that time Ron Perlman saw Sigourney Weaver do something so cool he forgot to act, and a Coronation Street conspiracy theory.

4. Humans (Derogatory)

We meet the human crew, and analyze why they're a mismatch to the movie's established expectations, and what subgenre they fit in most. It isn't the one the movie seems to be aiming for. Rambles: 50s B-movies and their Men Of Science, modern movies and their quietly suffering scientists. Alt-text rambles: inconsistently moist characters, Idris Elba's christmas tree decorations.

5. Pseudoarchaeology (Extremely Derogatory)

We meet Old Man Capitalism, poor logistics, and how the movie began to really lose me through dropping in some racist pseudoscience tropes. Rambles: more logistics (of alien bioengineering), historical art styles, what the world was getting up to in the 600s CE Alt-text rambles: Linguistics, more ranting, the life and extraordinarily ornate death of Kʼinich Janaabʼ Pakal. Rants: the existence of writing, people who don't look like you can still think, stargazing and how conspiracy theorists don't understand it.

6. Roads

Poor firearm safety with Chekhov's Gun, when movies move too fast, atmospheric chemistry, and the moment I began to yearn for blood. Rambles: First contact protocols, why 3% CO₂ won't kill you but it will make you weird, my personal experience digging up a Roman road. Alt-text rambles: the logistics of securing items in moving craft, linguistics, atmospheric science, colorblind-friendly diagram design, swearing about orology, and cursing the crew for their fictional crimes against archaeology. Rants: Why they should've stayed in orbit, and my impassioned defense of historically significant transportation infrastructure.

7. Masking

The bit that made most people realize these characters were idiots. Featuring an attempt at themes. Rambles: NASA's policies on biological contaminants Alt-text rambles: Benedict Wong having nothing to do, helmet design, driving on dusty track, the tiny overlap between archaeological horrors and Minecraft, the CDC's excellent captions on men sneezing. Rants: Nominating a man for the Heinrich Schliemann Archaeology Award, all these people are catching space covid

8. Ghosts

Comparing the Engineers to their series antecedents, and I develop a slight soft spot for the geologist. Rambles: Set design in Alien, how carbon dating works. Alt-text rambles: Adventure games, GET DOWN MISTER PRESIDENT, I get very excited for Dune: Part Two, the archival devotion of people with rare blorbos.

9. Dignity

Personal, professional, social, and media context for the treatment of people's remains. Rambles: Personal experiences around the archaeological discovery of human skeletons, professional codes of ethics, movies that handle dead bodies better by being more crass about it. Alt-text rambles: None, the main text gets full focus this time.

10. Atmosphere

How intertextual imagery is overused, how the one major character arc is developing, and a whole grab bag of miscellaneous shambolic events. Rambles: How tourist-breath can destroy artifacts, and a deleted scene Alt-text rambles: Whether explaining mysteries is always the wrong decision in fantasy, the usefulness of helmets, Mass Effect's loading screens, please someone give me more recommendations for things where Giger creatures aren't all bad, and how cultural variation in gestures can make you look like an asshole. Rants: they aren't done desecrating the dead oh boy it's just gonna get worse

11. Decontamination

How to present an audience with events that make no sense, how to do it eerily, and how Prometheus does this by accident. Rambles: NASA's Apollo 11 quarantine policies Alt-text rambles: How 2001: A Space Odyssey put on a cosmic lightshow, how traditions are faked for political and social power in Midsommar, confusing lab equipment, robot arm safety, the use of camper vans in space exploration, umarell behavior, and robot horror movies. Bonus text rambles: pressurized gas cylinder safety, and how the cargo of one truck apparently tried to join Roscosmos. Rants: Laboratory safety

12. Shocking

Mary Shelly would not be proud of them. Rambles: Which home electrical appliances their tomfoolery is equivalent to. Alt-text rambles: Semiotics and Alien, reuse of props and art department equipment, the cast's inability to look at things, how the first chestburster scene intelligently incorporated spontaneity, and I completely lose my mind over a single computer readout, finding out in the process that the Engineers are close cousins to the common house mouse. Rants: I didn't think that "don't stick electrical plugs in people's ears" would be something that needed to be said, but here we are.

13. Family Tree

A soothing ramble about some of the cool bits of my job. Rambles: How evolution has made some vertebrate blood white or green, how genomes are sequenced, and how to determine the relatedness of species. And more. A lot more. I love my job. It's so cool. Alt-text rambles: How Nickelodeon slime was made, how hecking tiny molecules are, why blue-tongued skinks have blue tongues, my review of Dune: Part Two, how hard I worked to not turn Gene Wilder into a jumpscare, lots of enthusiastic explanations of DNA sequencing techniques, the aesthetics of the machines wot do that for you, how "snip" no longer sounds like a verb to me, and how I started out as a computational scientist.

14. Cheers

David poisons a man, and how his character arc ties into christian-influenced existential dread. Rambles: series continuity, gnostic theology, Ridley Scott's beliefs. Alt-text rambles: How to ruin petri dishes, Vickers' questionably carbon-based existence, the game of Operation, hand doubles in filming, how the funniest possible misidentification of an early church figure is wandering around the internet, the cool genders of suit actors, gnostic Archons, and the Engineers as Sophia. Rants: Holloway seems unaware that archaeologists study dead people, Ridley Scott is his own biggest problem.

15. Unworthy

The movie does something I'm not going to joke about. Don't read this if you're having a bad day. Big content warning for Holocaust imagery.

16. Intimacy

Your asexual commentator grapples with Hollywood's terrible track record on romantic and sexual chemistry. Rambles: Why we don't say an archaic-looking species is "older" than another, how religious scientists do what they do Alt-text rambles: the human family tree, Abbott and Costello, pitcher plant cultivars, the creative possibilities of a Buddhist version of this movie, and Stephen Still's lack of accordions. Rants: I've never been a boyfriend but I'm pretty sure that's not how you do it

17. Threat

Prometheus takes a hard turn into old slasher movie tropes. Rambles: A movie trailer that gave Wee Spider the screaming heebies Alt-text rambles: The age rating of Prometheus, a spontaneous X-Files crossover AU, Pitch Black, how likely it may or may not be that the images in the post will get flagged, critter behavior, insufficient EVA suit design, and the content balancing I take into account when selecting screenshots. Rants: This movie does not seem to know what it is. Alt-text rants: Ditto, focusing on characterization.

18. Flames

"Mac wants the flamethrower!" Rambles: I wandered off in the middle to watch a 40k comedy video, does that count? Alt-text rambles: More content-balancing, what kind of very English critter David appears to be, dune buggy design, Star Wars: The Old Republic is worth your time, Dune: Part Two is worth your time, an extremely long ramble about integration of CG background elements, and Oblivion memes. Alt-text rants: Movie color grading and lighting, undercutting scares.

19. Stars

The movie shows how good it can be when no dialog is involved. Rambles: The movie Contact and how Prometheus could've learned from it. Alt-text rambles: How I estimate large numbers from a still image, a brief Baldur's Gate 3 appearance, the set design and staging of a room made for giants with squishy computers, the use of color to make a cohesive scene, facts about Uranus, visual intimation of threat, VFX wizardry, practical FX wizardry, Michael Fassbender's wordless acting.

20. Expectant

The movie shows how good it can be when character choice is removed from the horror. Rambles: the inspiration and place of chestbursting in Alien movies, the continuing religious symbolism in the movie, the clunky dialog, how to build or undermine tension, and the good blending of practical and CG effects, and how tiny creatures of the ocean manage to be more uncanny than horror critters. Alt-text rambles: reading details the prop department never meant for you to see. Alt-text Rants: the return of the head-exploder and the first sight of actual PPE, slowly mangling a plot point's name until it has been thoroughly folded, spindled, and mutilated.

21. Underdelivered

The movie shows how terrible it can be when horror doesn't build tension. Rambles: Contortionists in horror, hillbilly horror/hixploitation movies. Alt-text rambles: Resident Evil 7, Dead Space and "strategic dismemberment"

22. Hubris

The movie tries to do some themes again Rambles: my ineffable desire to genetically sequence ditch weeds, Left Behind Alt-text rambles: Brad Dourif's commitment to the bit in The Two Towers, nigh-invisible wheelchair product placement, the Fallout series in general and the upcoming show in particular, praise for an epic-length critique of Left Behind, Robert Zemeckis' bizarre quest to mocap everything Rants: This movie does a terrible job representing both religiosity and atheism

23. Informed

Exposition is delivered, and plot points try to knit together. Rambles: The Silent Hill movie, Pacific Rim Alt-text rambles: Pyramid Head's secret unclothed backside, demanding environmental enrichment for scientists, greebling, Tumblr's favorite shitty copper merchant Rants: What could've been done instead of an exposition dump and daddy issues Alt-text rants: these people and their interior design are tempting fate and testing my patience

24. Inscribed

I go rogue and ramble about constructed languages and cuneiform for an entire post. Guest appearances from Klingon pop music and a delightfully eccentric Assyriologist. Rambles: All of it. Alt-text rambles: the self-awareness of conlangers, fingernail length, Schleischer's Fable as a warm-up for the next section, my primary conlang derangement, speculation about whether cuneiform was legible for the blind, my beef with the cowards at Lucasfilm for refusing to use Star Wars' coolest letters, my love for Warframe's Grineer, going into far too much detail about redesigning Prometheus' Engineer script, and finally, the many crocodiles of ancient egyptian hieroglyphs. Rants: None/all of it

25. Judgement

We discuss some of what the movie doesn't. Rambles: Fiction and morality, Blade Runner, biblical allusions the story could've made and doesn't Alt-text rambles: Lance Henriksen's insane career, the paintings of John Martin and a surprise George Washington, Rutger Hauer's effect on Blade Runner, my tentative plans for the next essay series. Rants: Germs, old man makeup. Alt-text Rants: The characters are reading ahead in the script again, the half-assed Engineer writing system continues to hurt me

26. Awoken

I go bananas over PIE. Rambles: fix-it fic for this damned movie, PIE, how to avoid PIE, how to analyze PIE, and my personal alternative to PIE. Alt-text rambles: calculating how long the Engineer's overslept, their potential spiritual kinship to Moominpapa, behind the scenes photos of the suit actors, Prometheus rants in the days of LiveJournal, the game Hades, how hard it personally is to get PIE right, the linguistics nerdery of the Hittite empire, and watermarks. Rants: how the movie fails its premise and hurts my soul with linguistics

27. Shortcomings

The characters, and movie, fail to get their message across to someone bent on their destruction. Rambles: David's confused religious symbolism, Star Trek Alt-text rambles: My desire for fanfic, behind the scenes photos, what other critters the Engineer's suit actor has played, the naming of Australopithecines, crash-proofing a movie set, alien gender, Gandahar and how French animated SF in the 80s was awesome, Scorn and its expert consultation from a cenobite, and Doctor Strangelove. Rants: the assumptions of the human characters, I go from trying to be measured to actively spiting the writer for his take on thoughtful SF Alt-text Rants: Del Toro is the only one who gets me, the movie has forgotten its main character just had a major surgery, one last rant about how terribly unsafe the Prometheus was as a ship, before it becomes definitively not a ship.

28. Momentum

It's the bit where she doesn't turn. Rambles: How to fix the dumbest thing we've seen in a hot minute, Edge of Tomorrow and feeling Tom Cruise's fear, how the dead thing is never really dead in horror. Alt-text rambles: How hard it is to find the most catchy song in We Love Katamari, more behind the scenes pictures of my blorbos, Friday the 13th Part IV, bad braille, and trilobites. Rants: I mean how can you not when the movie forgets how space works? Like, the idea of 3D space as a concept? Also, a particular rock earns my ire, and my ranting about interior designs on ships finally pays off.

29. Dissonance

The ending of the movie, and its tonal incoherency. Rambles: Protagonist-centric morality and lack thereof Alt-text rambles: Star Trek TNG, green blood, caecilian teeth. Rants: shallow christian themes, sequels that could have been, Shaw's confusingly deployed robo-racism Alt-text rants: sequel disappointments, inadvisable post-caesarian activities, how the hell do you fit that much 'burster into one chest, biological plausibility in alien extend-o-mouths

30. Justification

A breakdown of a post-release interview with Ridley Scott, explaining some missing details. Rambles: Gnosticism again, Mesoamerican and European human sacrifice and the exoticization of shared cultural practices, and a hearty book recommendation. Alt-text rambles: Icelandic volcanoes, The Collector (2009), Stephen Speilberg's War of the Worlds and how scaring the shit out of someone isn't necessarily the job of a horror film, the Tollund Man, unique cultural practices, Hello Future Me, and my opinions on what we've seen of Alien: Romulus. Rants: Ancient peoples weren't stupid, an unexamined christian-centric worldview, an unexamined christian-centric worldview, I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGh

#Prometheus (2012)#Prometheus 2012 #this ended up extremely long but it was worth it #the curse has now been lifted #I am free

109 notes · View notes

peakyltd · 1 year ago

Text

New Endings - Part 3

Part 3 | Tommy Shelby x reader

A/N: Well this is posted later than I intended but I was struggling with this one and after working a little bit too long on it, idk what to think of it anymore 🥲 Anyway, I hope you'll still like it!

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of injuries, mentions of domestic violence/abuse.

Word count: 5.4k

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART

Tommy held his aunt's displeased gaze, if her angry tone didn't already gave away how she felt, her eyes would for sure. "Did you forgot who her fiancé is? Who says we can trust her?"

"It's (Y/N), Pol." Tommy's toneless voice objected, not impressed by Polly's words. "You think people won't change? It’s our company that’s connected to the house, it’ll become a fucking target." She confuted.

Tommy had gathered Polly, Arthur, John and Michael for a family meeting in his office in Arrow House. He had enlightened them on the new situation and found details about David. Much doubt arose when he announced that (Y/N) stayed at the old family home, mostly from Polly who questioned her intentions or that from her fiancé.

“Ah c’mon Pol, d'you really think she’d try anythin'?” John turned in his chair to look at his aunt, his eyebrows furrowed. Not believing (Y/N) would have any intentions to screw them over.

“She won’t.” Tommy interrupted them as he leant back in his chair. He hadn't expect the backlash he just received, assuming they would all just accept it. The words of his aunt lingered in his head, maybe he was taking a risk but at the same time he didn’t believe (Y/N) would go against him. Not in the state he had found her in.

“She stays there. I’ll find her a home in the meantime.” He looked at each of his family members, a dominant look in his eyes, a sign that there was no room for negotiation. Something that didn’t work well on Polly. “You’re blinded, Thomas. Remember how it worked out for you the last time.”

Tommy clenched his jaw at her remark, annoyed that she brought up his late wife and the way she had lied to him. Despite the betrayal it didn’t stop him from loving her and forgiving her. Something Polly never did.

“I’m helping her so that bastard doesn’t kill her.”

Michael cleared his throat, the tension between Polly and Tommy was clearly palpable and it made him feel uncomfortable. “With who is David involved with?” He wondered, recalling the information Tommy gave them earlier. “I don’t know yet.”

“We’ll keep an eye on that bloody bastard, right Tom?” Arthur looked at his younger brother, showing him that he got his back. “We do.”

Polly shook her head. “Isn’t this place big enough?" She referred to Arrow House. "You have plenty of space for a guest.”

“She felt safe at Watery Lane.” Tommy directed his attention back to his aunt. Polly narrowed her eyes. “That’s what she tells you.”

Tommy sighed as he kept his gaze on her. “Thank you all for coming.” His brothers and cousin got up to leave the office together, unlike Polly, who remained in her chair with her arms crossed.

“You’re dismissed Pol, free to go.” He bossed her while he put his glasses on his nose and took a folder with documents from his desk.

“You wouldn’t let her stay here, do you?” Polly sneered at him. He looked up over his glasses. “I wouldn’t want to give off the wrong ideas now, do I?”

A humorless laugh fell off her lips. “Please, Thomas don’t-“ Tommy slammed the folder on the desk, making Polly slightly jump at the sudden noise. “Listen to me, eh?! She's no bad news. We’ll go see her tomorrow and you’ll see with your own bloody eyes what happened. I’m not fucking stupid Pol.”

Polly let the silence after Tommy's finished sentence surround them for a moment as she stood up. She walked over to his desk and leaned over it, pointing her finger in his face. “You don’t realize what you got yourself into.” Her eyes were boring into his, showing him that she meant it.

Rays of sunlight streamed trough the small gaps of the curtain, touching (Y/N)'s face in a kind way. The soft light slowly awoke her from her peaceful rest. She snuggled into the blanket as she opened her eyes, carefully taking in her surroundings. Her mind took her back to the events of the day before, just like it did during the night until exhaustion took her into it's arms and gave her the rest she so desperately needed.

The room felt safe and if she could, she would lock herself in there so she didn't have to worry about anyone. Unfortunately things weren't that easy and she had to prepare herself for her new future, something new and unknown.

She sat up and put the pillow against the metal bedframe. While she got comfortable, she looked around the room. It was exactly how she remembered it, the flower pattern on the wallpaper, the chair next to the bedside table and the tapestry that hung next to the bed. It was as if the younger versions of both her and Tommy could walk trough the door at any moment. The sigh that left her mouth was slow as she reminded herself of easier times.

She got up and changed into the dress that Tommy had left for her before opening the curtains. The sky had replaced the somber grey colors for a calm blue one, clouds were dappled here and there. Golden threads of the morning sun directly shined into the bedroom, a smile tugged on the corners of her lips as she looked outside. It felt as if this was nature's way to tell her that she made the right decision. Or well, she would like to believe it was.

She turned away from the window and left the room to make her way downstairs where she got herself a cup of tea. The kitchen didn't offer her the same safe feeling as Tommy's bedroom did, making her feel like some kind of intruder in a place where she shouldn't be.

She looked up at the clock on the wall, no idea on what to do next. Her belongings were not with her, she didn't dare to set a foot outside and she didn't know when or if Tommy came back today.

The sound of footsteps made her snap out of her thoughts as her heartbeat exceeded. "Good morning, love."

"Polly..." She breathed out the visitors name while she tried to keep her composure, knowing her voice had probably betrayed her already. She hadn't expect to see Tommy's aunt, at least not yet. "Good morning."

"It's been a while." The dark haired woman looked at her as a small smile played on her lips. While she eyed the younger woman in front of her, she let Tommy's words play trough her head again. He was convinced that they could trust (Y/N) however there was something that didn't sat right with her.

"It is." (Y/N) returned a small smile. "Would you like some tea? I just made some." She asked Polly, her hands trembled slightly while she put her cup on the table.

"I'll get it myself." Polly answered before taking off her coat and hanging it on the rack. "How have you been?"

"Well..." She let her hands rest on the back of a chair that stood by the table. "I'm alright."

"Alright?" Polly filled a cup and turned to face her. "If you were alright, I don't think you would be here." She pointed out while she sat down at the table. "I-"

"Please take a seat." Polly interrupted her, directing her with her eyes. Her gaze did not leave the woman in front of her until she sat down. "I heard you were engaged."

"I am. For a while actually." (Y/N) confirmed while she twisted the ring around her finger. She felt her palms getting sweaty, unable to tell why she felt so nervous all of sudden. Polly had always been good to her and they got along from the moment they had met.

Polly sipped on her tea, letting the silence linger for a while before she spoke up again. "You're living in London now?" (Y/N) nodded in response. "Yes." She wasn't able to stand the long silences Polly used after her answers. "It's been very different from what I was used to."

"Better?" The older woman asked her. (Y/N) shrugged. "In some ways."

"I think London is convenient for your fiancé's work, isn't it?" Polly's head was slightly tilted backwards as she looked down at her with a raised eyebrow, (Y/N) broke the eye contact and looked down at the table. "It is. Easier for the distribution of the car parts."

"I see." Polly noticed that the behavior of the woman in front of her was different, nothing like she had remembered. She noticed the bruises in her neck and on her arms, which she had tried to cover up with the dress she was wearing. Her confident appearance was replaced with fear and shame. "And now you're here."

(Y/N) felt Polly's gaze almost burning into her skin. Her questions made her wonder what else she knew about her life or David's. She just nodded, thinking about a way to tell her without making it too complicated for herself. "I couldn't take it anymore." Her voice was soft, almost too scared to admit it.

"Tommy told me." Polly's expression softened as she started to feel pity for her. "I didn't expect him to help me." (Y/N) dared to look up at her again as she heard a soft laugh coming from her mouth. "He's full of surprises lately."

The sound of the front door alerted both of them. She felt her body tense as she looked at the opening that led to the small hallway where a familiar man had showed up.

"Did I miss the tea party?" Tommy's low voice filled the room while he walked in, giving his aunt a stern look.

"You did." Polly shot back at him, unfazed by his attitude. "Very eager to come see her, eh?" He sneered, annoyed by the fact his aunt didn't listen to him. "I thought she'd like some company." Polly fake smiled at him, knowing exactly how to push his buttons.

Tommy took his cap off and put it on the table in front of him before sitting down. "Would you like some tea?" (Y/N) questioned, already getting up to get him some.

"No. I won't be here long." He leaned back in the chair, looking at her the way Polly did, waiting for her to sit back down. "Oh, okay." She sat back on her chair. "I guess you've already discussed a few things?" Tommy asked, referring to Polly's early visit.

"We did." Polly answered before drinking some of her tea. "Good." Tommy redirected his attention back to (Y/N). "We might have a house for you, it's not much but it's safe. You'll be able to move there in a few weeks."

"A house? Tommy..." While she was lost for words, she tried to let the new information sink in. Tommy took a wad of cash out of his pocket, shoving an amount of it, her way. "This is for food and clothes. Finn can get you some groceries." He assured her while glancing at his aunt who's dark eyes were almost burning holes into his skin. "And I'm sure Polly wouldn't mind to buy you a few dresses."

"No. No I can't take this." She pushed the money back to him. "You did enough already, I don't even know how I have to pay you back." She was taken aback by his gesture, it was way too much.

"You don't have to pay me back. Just take it." He shoved it back to her way, putting the rest of his money back in his pocket. "I know it's not the same as your belongings but this is what I can do for now."

"Oh no... Please don't worry about it. I'm... I just don't know what to say." It didn't felt right to take his money. She wasn't sure if it was because it came from Tommy or that things just went way too fast but either way it made her feel uncomfortable.

"You don't have to say anything. It's yours." He assured her while he got up, grabbing his cap off the table. (Y/N) looked up at him, shaking her head. "I can't-"

"You can." Tommy put his cap back on his head. "Can I at least invite you dinner for tonight? I can't just take it without doing anything back." She offered, it was the least she could do.

He looked at her in silence while blinking a few times. "If you insist." She nodded. "I insist. 7 PM? "

"I’ll see you tonight."

Plates were neatly put across from each other and the bottle of whiskey was already waiting to be opened. Food was almost finished and even though she was a bit late there was no need to hurry since there was still no sign of Tommy.

Knowing he was always on time, she started to worry. Maybe something had happened to him or maybe he changed his mind about the dinner. But if it was the last thing, he would’ve let her know. Right?

She cleaned her hands after she turned the stove off and peeked trough the window. The streets were pretty calm, except for a few people here and there but none of them was the one she was looking for. She decided to wait a little longer and sat down at the table, opening the book Polly had brought her, along with her new clothes and groceries.

It was a welcome distraction for the time she had to kill because much later than expected, Tommy finally entered the house.

She put her book down and looked up at him. "Is everything alright?" She asked him while he took off his cap and coat and sat down at the table. "Everything's alright." He looked at her when she gazed quickly over at the clock. "A little inconvenience at one of the factories." He added, addressing the fact why he was late.

An embarrassed feeling went trough her body when she noticed he caught her looking at the clock, not wanting to give him a feeling as if she was anxiously waiting for him. "Oh, no don't worry. I already thought that it had something to do with... business." She half lied, leaving out the fact that she was worried.

Tommy nodded as he observed her, noticing her new dress and the make up she was wearing. "I like the dress." He boldly told her, making her smile in response. "Thank you. I like it too, Polly got exactly what I wanted."

"I'm glad." He replied as he watched her get up. "You must be hungry." She assumed when she got his plate and took it to the stove. "I made roasted chicken and baked potatoes with cheese."

"It smells nice." He admitted while she put his plate back in front of him. She opened the bottle of whiskey and poured him a glass. "Thank you."

When she got herself a plate as well and had poured herself a glass of wine, she sat across from him. An uneasy feeling crept up on her, it felt weird to have dinner with him after everything that had happened. The only thing that made her feel better was that he didn't seemed as tensed as he was that morning.

"I hope you'll enjoy your meal." She politely smiled at him as she cut a piece of her chicken. "I think I will." He responded before taking a sip of his whiskey.

"Were you able to get some sleep last night?" Tommy wondered, he had noticed that she looked less exhausted than the evening prior. "Yes, a bit but enough to feel better than yesterday."

He nodded as he calmly ate his food. She eyed him carefully, becoming more aware of the things she had already seen in The Garrison. The tired look on his face and the lack of happiness in his eyes were a big contrast to what she had remembered. She thought back at the words he had said to her in the pub, their kiss and how she hit him after. She had felt a yearning to go back and undo what was done. What she did was equally as bad as the things David did.

"I'm sorry." She blurted out, earning a confused look from Tommy. "For what?"

She looked down at the table, feeling insecure under his intense stare. "Hitting you. You know... at The Garrison. After you-." She stammered, feeling stupid that she wasn't able to get out one proper sentence.

"It was very painful, y'know." He deadpanned. She looked up at him, a hint of guilt in her eyes until she realized he was joking. "I'm serious Tommy." He leant back and took a sip of his whiskey. "Me too, that ring hurts."

She parted her lips to speak up but didn't know what to say. A small smile appeared on his face. His attempts to be funny didn't gave her the chance to explain her feelings. "I felt really bad."

"Don't." He assured her, his way to ease her feelings. "You're not angry about it?" Tommy shook his head. "No, 'm not."

She was relieved that he wasn't mad about what she did although his short answers didn't gave her full satisfaction, wondering if he maybe didn't want to talk about it. While Tommy continued eating the food she made, she wondered if the silence had become a family thing since the conversation with Polly wasn't really flowing either. "So..." She awkwardly started, trying to bend the conversation into a different subject.. "How's the family been?"

"Good." He put the cutlery down. "Arthur got married, John became a father again, Ada and Finn are doing well." Her eyes widened in surprise. "Really?" She marveled with a small smile on her face. "That's great news."

"I guess it is." Tommy filled his glass with whiskey once more. His comment made her wonder what he meant but she decided to leave it. "Finn must've changed a lot."

"He did grew up, yeah."

"I remember I caught him smoking when he was just a little boy." She chuckled softly. "Probably wasn't the first and the last time." Tommy snorted lightly as the corner of his lips turned slightly upwards. He couldn't keep count on the numerous of times he had caught the young boy with a cigarette in his mouth.

(Y/N) shared a little more about her memories of the Shelby's as it seemed to be the easiest way to make a conversation with the one in front of her. While they finished their dinner and drank some more, he attentively listened to her stories.

"Well, I think I'll have to thank you for dinner, eh?" Tommy had turned his chair to look at her while she was doing the dishes. He had taken his suit jacket off, leaving him in his dress shirt and vest. "You're not staying for a drink?"

"I've already had a few." He stated as he saw how her lips turned into a smile. "I can get you a glass of water." Her witty comment made him think of the many she used to make all the time. "I'd rather not."

While she dried the last plate, she turned to look at him. "Then at least stay for one more?" She asked him. Despite their dinner starting off awkward, she ended up enjoying it and she wouldn't mind to chat a bit more. "Alright then."

Once she finished, they both moved to the small living room where they sat across from each other. The fireplace warmed the room and a few candles were spread trough the place, the flames glowing on their faces.

"The whole house is exactly like I remember it." She giggled, the wine had given her a little more confidence but also helped her to feel at ease. Tommy looked around, nodding his head slowly. "Not much has changed."

"It's weird to think about how it looks like time stood still while everyone's lives has changed so much." She concluded as her eyes fell on a picture of the three brothers, Tommy was no older than 19. Tommy's gaze moved to the picture before looking at her. "Everyone's lives or our lives?"

(Y/N) turned her head to meet his eyes and shrugged, not expecting his question as it seemed he wanted to keep a distance in every conversation that night. "Both, maybe." Tommy swirled his whiskey in his glass. "Do you think you'd be still living around here, if you didn't meet David?"

She thought about his question. "Maybe, yes. I don't think London is where I belong." She pulled her knees up and let her legs rest on the sofa she was sitting on. "It's too busy, I guess. The people are different as well."

"How did you meet him?" Tommy asked while he leaned his arms on the chair, curious about how she met him. "At a party, in a club. Also in London." She took a sip of her wine. "A friend invited me. He was there with a group of his friends and he came to the rescue when some Italian was bothering me." She smiled at the memory. "We hit it off pretty well and it turned out the Italian was friend of his who had a few too many drinks."

Tommy nodded once more, replaying the words in his head. This could be information that would help him find the missing link he was looking for, it confirmed his suspicion.

"For how long have you been engaged now?" He continued asking about her relationship. "6 months. He promised he'd do better so I said yes."

"But he didn't." He concluded. "No." She looked at the fireplace as she thought about the past few years. "For how long have you been married?"

"A few months." (Y/N) saw Tommy's eyes change, although his expression remained the same. "Did you love her?"

"I did." He sighed after he finished his whiskey. "Yeah.."

"I'm sorry Tommy." She immediately apologized. She didn't want her curiosity to be the reason behind a ruined night as it appeared to be a sensitive topic. He shook his head, his eyes finding hers again. "No, it's okay."

They both remained silent, thinking about their lives and how things could've ended so differently. (Y/N) decided to get up and get herself another glass of wine. She passed the chair where Tommy was sitting and gently took the glass out of his hand. Their fingers touched briefly, sending a kind of warm sensation trough his body. He looked up at her, her eyes meeting his as they locked their gaze for a moment. His electric blue eyes stared directly into hers, just like they had done many times before. A familiar feeling found it's way in her stomach before she looked away. "I'm- I'll get you a new one." She mumbled before making her way to the kitchen.

Her heart was beating faster as she leaned against the counter, not fully understanding what her body tried to tell her. While she took the time to get herself together, she decided to just blame it on the alcohol.

When she returned with their drinks, she found him smoking in his chair while he let his head rest on his other hand. His eyes were staring at the table. She stopped in front of him, getting his attention as he looked up. “Are you okay?” She asked before handing him his glass.

He blew smoke out of his mouth while he sat up. “I am.” Her hand found its way to his cheek as she gently stroked his skin with her thumb, a way to comfort him. Their eyes finding each other again while she continued. He had missed the genuine and gentle touches of solace. The contact of her skin on his, made him crave for more. Just as he wanted to lean into her touch, she pulled her hand away. Taking the comfort only she could give, with her.

She hadn’t expected to be so drawn to the urge to touch him. Usually she wouldn’t dare and she wasn’t even sure if he was okay with, although his intense stare almost assured her that she was doing something right. The increase of confidence from the alcohol was helping her more than she realized, it could be a good time to use it while it lasted.

“Can I ask you something?” She sat back on the sofa as she watched him finish his cigarette. “You can.”

“Did you mean it what you said? That the ring on my finger should’ve been yours?” Tommy blinked a few times before nodding slowly. “You know I did.”

“Then why did you let me go in the first place?” She let her fingers slide over the stem of her wineglass, the wait for his answer forming an unknown feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Because this life’s not a life where you belong. We'd be better off without each other.”

She remembered the countless arguments that started that last conversation which broke her heart. She didn’t want to give up on him, on them but he forced her to. He forced her out of his life as if it was nothing, as if she was nothing but just an erased memory.

She remembered the evening he told her it was for the best if they didn't saw each other anymore. It was for the best he said but in the end nothing turned out for the best.

She remembered how he told her how life was going to be from that moment, that she had no choice if she stayed but that the exact life within her choice, wasn’t one she belonged to. His words were harsh and his demeanor was cold, as if he didn’t want to understand her feelings or might as well pretended that he didn’t. Only to make it easier for himself.

She remembered how she called him a selfish bastard, how she hated him and how he just stared at her, saying nothing.

“You could’ve protected me and still let me live my own life.” Tommy shook his head as stubbed out his cigarette. “You hated how there were people always watching you, remember the many times you told me it was suffocating you? It only became worse after that, you wouldn’t be happy.”

She couldn’t deny the suffocating feeling it gave her, knowing that everywhere she went, there would be someone watching her. Good or bad, it didn’t matter. But she loved him deeply and a part of her didn't care anymore, as long as she could be with him. “I loved you, do you realize that?”

He sighed softly at her words before taking a sip of his drink. “You think I didn’t love you?”

“No… not the way you left me heartbroken with a shit explanation in the middle of the same fucking kitchen we just had our dinner in. If you really loved me, you would’ve listened to me but you never did.” Her words held the anger she had for years but still came out calmly. "And don't even get me started on how quick you fucking replaced me, that's not love."

Tommy clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I listened (Y/N). I always fucking listened but I knew it would never make you happy. I never would. And talking about replacing, eh? I fucking told you I didn't replace you. Have you forgotten how I went looking for you after you left?"

She scoffed as she listened to him. “Oh yeah, because you were so sorry. So sorry for yourself, that you ended up alone again." Her voice became louder, just like the anger within her. "If you really wanted to find me, you would. Just like a few weeks ago."

"You didn't want to be found." He defended, getting annoyed at her accusations. "Not after what you did, no."

He shook his head as he put his glass on the table, a little harsher than expected. “You wouldn’t be happy but I wanted you to be.” He pointed his finger at her. “I didn’t want to throw away the years we had and I didn’t want to break your fucking heart but I knew how much you loved your fucking freedom and I didn’t want to be the person that would take it away from you.”

She looked at him, his words hitting her in a way she didn’t expect. His voice was strong and determined. She wasn't sure if it was anger or not. “You were always that strong, independent woman. Always out there to do whatever you wanted. Who the fuck was I to take it away from you, eh? You know it would’ve made you unhappy. Love wouldn’t have changed that.”

“I still am.” Her words sounded soft as she disagreed with his statement. “What?” His eyebrows furrowed at her comment. “I’m still the same woman. You said were.”

“Please, have you looked…” Tommy didn’t finish his sentence, instead he took a deep breath and leaned back in the chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. Her body tensed and her eyes narrowed as she waited for to finish his sentence. “Have I looked, what?”

“Have you looked at yourself?” He continued his abruptly stopped sentence. He sat up straight, his voice picking up the same tone as before. “You’re far from that. The woman I knew would’ve dared to yell in my face if I deserved it, she would speak up when no one else would and she wouldn’t take shit from anybody.”

(Y/N) gulped at his words, tears brimmed in her eyes as she kept his gaze, listening to the other things he had to say.

“The woman in front of me is a ghost of all of that. The spark in your eyes is gone and all I see is fear. You changed in the worst way and it’s because of him. He fucking ruined you (Y/N).”

She sniffled softly, as she tried not to break down in front him. He was right.

Tommy's eyes did not leave her frame. She tried to take a deep breath, ready to speak up but she couldn't. He moved to the edge of his seat to place a hand on her knee, squeezing it gently.

"You're nothing better." She choked on her words as she watched his thumb moving in patterns over her knee. "I would've ended up the same as I stayed with you." Of course he wasn't the same as David but her life wouldn't have looked much different than from what it did now.

Her mind took her back to David who told her so many times how much he loved her. Who always made it up to her after his outbursts, telling her how sorry he was and that he would do better. He did, even if it only lasted for a few days until he fell back in old patterns. Despite it all, she still loved him, or at least she thought she did. Perhaps it could be the fear speaking, that when she told herself she didn't, he'd come find her.

Tommy shook his head as he felt himself losing his temper. There were many people who held grudges against him and those also brought many accusations however being compared to David was something completely new.

"If you ended up the same, then please enlighten me on the last time I caused this." He grabbed her arm and lifted her sleeve a little harsher than intended, revealing her bruised arm.

She gasped and looked up at him with widened eyes. "Stop, Tommy." While he let go of her arm, she quickly pulled her sleeve down. "I never laid one single finger on you, now tell me again that I'm nothing better than that fucking bastard!" His voice was harsh and full of bitterness. "I don't understand why you keep fucking defending him while nothing like this looks like the love you've been desperately looking for."

She watched him get up and looked up as he towered over her. His words hitting her like he hoped they did, an attempt to wake her up and make her realize what she was doing.

"If you want to go back to him, then please go but remind yourself that if you stay with him, you'll end up six feet under within a year. And he wouldn't even be sorry."

Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think!

Taglist: @cyphah @kissforvoid @liter4ti

#New Endings #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x fem!reader #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #tommy shelby one shot

208 notes · View notes

corroded-hellfire · 2 years ago

Note

I don’t have a great idea or prompt but your As You Wish Older!Eddie absolutely stopped me in my tracks and I think about him daily 😩 idk if you’d prefer a totally different universe to write older!eddie but I got thinking about As You Wish Eddie and just wondering what like a different night with him and reader maybe Pre-AYW where they’re a lil cuddly but shouldn’t be or post-AYW date night where things actually go well and it’s happy for them both and Eddie’s efforts are appreciated (looking at u Brittany 😒)

I swear, I didn't intend for this to be so long. Yet here we are. This is Pre-As You Wish. Thank you so much for this request! I love writing this little gang so much.

Words: 11.8k

“But I want one,” Luke says with an overdramatic sigh. He flops back on the couch, arm dropping above his head, reminding you of a swooning Southern Belle.

“You’re being silly,” you tell him, reaching down to ruffle his brown curls. “It’s not that I just said no, you can’t have one. There are literally no cupcakes in the whole house, kiddo.”

The five-year-old acts as if your words have wounded him, curling up himself and holding his chest with both hands as if he’s been stabbed. Where did he get this stuff?

“Will die without frosting!” Luke says weakly. You can’t help but laugh at his adorable antics as you kneel down near his head. There’s no doubt that he’s the most entertaining part of your job.

“Oh no,” you say, copying his dramatics. “We’re going to lose Luke!”

Without opening his eyes, Luke gives his head a nod, letting his tongue loll out of his mouth. The front door opens and your heart soars, though there’s a brief flash of panic that it’s not the parent of the children that you want to see. When the sound of heavy boots being kicked off reaches your ears, you relax, but stay in character for your game with Luke.

“Eddie, come quickly!” Your tone is teasing, and you throw him a smile over your shoulder to let him know that you’re only fooling around. Eddie’s smirk says he’s game to play along.

“What’s wrong with my boy?” Eddie says, faking a gasp and coming to kneel next to you at Luke’s side.

“He says he’s dying from lack of cupcakes,” you say, placing your hand on your heart.

“Frosting,” Luke grits out, making both you and Eddie hide snorts of laughter.

“Right. From lack of frosting,” you amend.

“It’s such a shame,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “If only he could hold on for two more days until his brother’s birthday.”

Luke pops open a bright blue eye, peeking at his father. “Oh yeah.”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie mimics his son’s voice, wrinkling up his nose.

“What kind of cake?” Luke asks, abandoning his theatrical game and sitting up on the couch.

“I’ll tell you if you give me a hug,” Eddie offers, and Luke launches himself at his dad. Eddie laughs and presses a kiss to his temple. “Vanilla cake. Vanilla icing.”

“Strawberry’s better,” Luke says.

“Then we’ll have that on your birthday,” Eddie says, mussing up the little boy’s hair before standing. “Where’s Ryan?”

“Taking a bath,” you say, standing up after him. “We finished his homework, and he said if he takes a bath now, he can read before bed instead.”

Eddie grins and shakes his head as he unzips the navy coveralls he’s wearing. Your eyes can’t help but trail his hands, rough and calloused from manual labor, pulling down the zipper so he can shrug his top half out of the garment.

Luke gets bored now that none of the attention is on him, so he scurries to his room to find something to keep him occupied.

“That kid,” Eddie says, his tone full of adoration for his oldest son. “I have no idea where he gets it. The brains, the books. Certainly not my genes.”

“Hey, you’re smart,” you argue with a pout. Eddie lets out a chuckle and walks to the kitchen, you hot on his heels. “I’m serious!”

“Sweetheart, I barely got out of high school. Can’t tell you the last time I read a book.”

“There are different types of intelligence, Eddie. I mean, last week! All I said to you was that my car was making a growling noise and within two minutes you knew what was wrong with it. Without even having to go outside and look at it. Jesus, I don’t even know the names for half the crap under the hood. And I guess I’ll just have to lend you a book, huh?”

Eddie smiles at you. A real, open face, full of teeth smile. You take a seat at the kitchen table, unsure if your wobbling knees would be able to hold you up after seeing that grin aimed at you.

“You’re the best,” he says. A warmth tingles all over your body at his praise. “You wanna stay for dinner?”

The answer to that question depends on what time it is. When your eyes scan over to the clock hanging on the wall and see Brittany is due home in five minutes, that makes the decision for you.

“Can’t,” you say, eyes sliding back to Eddie where he’s digging through the freezer. Probably in search of something to make. But you notice that he had been watching you, seeing you look over at the clock before answering.

“Probably have a paper you need to finish,” Eddie says, giving you an out as he resumes his search.

“Uh, yeah,” you say. But you still have those precious five minutes to be alone with Eddie and you don’t want to waste them. Your mind scrambles for something to talk to him about. “Should I bring Ryan’s present over tomorrow? Or do you want me to wait until Monday?”

Eddie’s brow pinches in a frown and he closes the freezer. “Why don’t you just bring it to the party?”

“His birthday party? Oh, I didn’t realize I was invited.”

Eddie stares at you incredulously. His jaw drops open and he lets out a laugh. “Of course you are. Britt never told you that?”

“No,” you say with a shrug.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie groans and rubs a hand over his hair. His tongue pokes out to lick over his lips before he speaks again. “I know she told me she invited you. Because I said I’d do it, then she said she’d handle it.”

“Maybe she forgot?” You try to give her the benefit of the doubt, but Eddie knows better. He doesn’t want to get into it with you, though. Lord knows you don’t need to hear about his marriage issues.

“Well, you are invited. And don’t worry, it’s not going to just be a bunch of little kids. We’re having a barbecue out back, around the pool. Some old friends of mine, my uncle, Britt’s sister and her family, and then a handful of Ryan’s friends. You can bring someone if you want. Your sister, friend, boyfriend, whatever.” Yeah, he was fishing for information that shouldn’t affect him either way, but here he was. Is he proud of it? No. Is he going to stop? Probably not. He knows he’s too attached to you but he’s convinced it can all be a fantasy in his head and everything will be fine. At least that’s what he tells himself.

“Yeah, I’m free Saturday,” you say. “Um, not sure if I’ll bring anyone. Probably not.” Your best friend, and roommate, knew about your feelings for Eddie, so that would just make you nervous she would accidentally spill the beans and ruin everything. There’s no way you were telling your sister about how you feel because she’d just tell you that you’re being stupid; that you’re a kid with a dumb crush. And maybe that’s true, but you didn’t need to hear it from her.

Pushing yourself up from the table, you grab your bag from the counter and slip it on your shoulder.

“See you tomorrow?” you ask.

“I’ll be here,” Eddie says, half of his mouth quirking up into a smile.

You shoot him one last smile over your shoulder before heading down the hallway to say goodbye to the kids.

Fridays are the days you only have one class, which means you get to sleep in a little longer than usual. Except for today, when the phone on your bedside table jars you out of your slumber, the piercing shrill going right through you.

“Who the hell,” you grumble to yourself as you push yourself up onto your elbows. Reaching over, your fingers graze the receiver and tug it to your ear. The anger at being awoken dissipates when you hear the telltale sign of machinery and tools clanging. Even before your favorite voice in the world answers your greeting. “Hello?”

“Hey! Oh shit, did I wake you up?” Eddie asks. You debate lying, but the hoarseness in your voice would call your bluff.

“Yeah, but it’s fine. My alarm was about to go off anyway.” That was a lie, but one he couldn’t catch you in. “What’s up? Boys okay? You okay?”

Both of you notice the lack of checking in on the last member of the family, but neither of you cares either. On his end of the phone, Eddie can’t help but grin to himself, trying to hide it from the other guys in the shop. First, your early morning voice was just about the cutest thing he’s ever heard, now your worry for him and the boys has his heart kicking up its pace.

“Yeah, everyone’s fine,” Eddie says. “Just wanted to ask a favor of you, if you don’t mind.”

“Anything.” You could slap yourself for how eagerly you said it. For all you know he’s going to ask you to spend the day with Brittany, which might actually kill you. But who are you kidding? You’d do it if he asked.

“Well,” Eddie says with a sigh. “Britt kind of dropped the ball. Again.”

It’s not a shock by any means. Squeezing your lips together, you internalize the sigh you so desperately want to let out and pinch the bridge of your nose.

“She, uh, was supposed to pick up Ryan’s cake from the bakery after work today, but apparently,” Eddie pauses here to huff a humorless chuckle, “she forgot to ever order it. Do you think you can swing by the grocery store and get some vanilla cake mix and vanilla frosting? Ryan didn’t know, thank God, so he won’t be disappointed that it’ll have to be homemade. The kids will want to help with it but by the time I get home there won't be enough time to bake it, let it cool, and frost it before they have to go to bed.”

“Oh, Eddie, of course,” you say. The boys loved baking; you know that from experience. Together you’d made countless cookies and brownies. “Do you need me to grab anything else from the store?”

“No, no, that’s all. And I’ll give you the money for it when I get home, I swear.”

“Eddie,” you say with a chuckle. “It’s fine, I can buy birthday cake ingredients for one of my two favorite little dudes.”

“Nope, you’re getting that money back,” Eddie says, and you just know there’s a smile on his face as he says it. You can practically hear it.

“I see why Luke is so stubborn,” you say as you lay back on your pillow. Maybe if you close your eyes and tug your soft purple blanket up to your chin, you can pretend you’re being a normal girl having a conversation with the guy she’s head over heels for. Not a conversation about your job with your boss, who has a wife, and is over ten years older than you. Just Eddie.

Eddie scoffs on the other end of the line, bringing a dopey grin to your face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says. “That kid is nothing like me.”

“Ha!” you bark out, making Eddie laugh, the sound like a shot of whiskey hitting your bloodstream. “Pretty sure Luke isn’t your son, he’s your clone.” Literally, the fact that the five-year-old has blue eyes is the only noticeable difference.

“Okay, okay,” Eddie concedes. “I guess I better get back to work before my boss charges me for half the phone bill.”

“Bosses, right? Such a pain in the ass.”

“Listen, you little smartass,” Eddie says through a laugh, a blushing smile making your own cheeks hurt. “I’ll quit my job right now and take yours.”

“Trade you,” you say, knowing he has to get back to work but not wanting to let him go. “I’ll fix the cars.”

“All right,” Eddie says. “Just tell me where the carburetor is located.” Wrinkling up your nose, you stay silent, only proving Eddie’s point. “Uh huh,” he says, voice sounding smug. “So, I’ll go replace the brakes on this Honda and you’ll go to class, hit the grocery store, and take care of two little monsters for a few hours, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m clearly the winner here.”

“You are,” Eddie agrees. “Okay sweetheart, I’ll see you later.”

The term of endearment isn’t new. He’s called you that countless times, along with a variety of other nicknames. He’s probably even said it over the phone to you before, you’re not sure. But the part that’s currently giving you the feeling of pop rocks exploding in your stomach is that anyone who can hear him on the phone at work right now probably thinks he’s talking to his wife. Or girlfriend if they don’t know he’s married. But he said it to you. Something about it makes you feel giddy.

“Bye, Eddie.”

“Bye,” Eddie drags out the word before the line goes dead.

After starting your day off by talking to Eddie, you don’t feel the need for your usual cup of coffee. You’re already wide awake. The day seems to be better than a usual Friday, an extra pep in your step that you can only think of one explanation for. Class seemed more interesting, traffic didn’t seem as bad, even finding a parking spot at the notoriously crowded grocery store was easier.

Strolling down the baking aisle to find the supplies you need, you hum along to the cheery pop tune playing over the store’s speakers. Your eyes scan over the shelves and snag on a box of vanilla cake mix. Dropping that into your basket, you search for the matching frosting. As you look at all the baking supplies in front of you, the sprinkles catch your eye. Which leads you to looking at the tubes of food gel that you can write on cakes with. Pursing your lips as you look it over, you shrug and think, what the hell? The sprinkles and food gel get added to the shopping basket. Now all you’re missing is the vanilla frosting. Which you discover was right in front of your face the whole time, making you roll your eyes at yourself as you snatch it off the shelf. Purposefully keeping the grocery bag in the backseat, and not in the trunk, your next stop is to pick up the munchkins from school.

The pickup line at the elementary school is long, but you don’t mind. It usually moves pretty quickly, and the radio station is currently playing Billy Joel. Eddie teases you all the time about your love for the singer of Piano Man, but he does at least admit that the man is talented.

Two bright faces come up to the windows of your gold car, Ryan grinning and waving, and Luke hooking his pointer fingers into his mouth and pulling them wide while sticking his tongue at you. Leaning across the center console as much as you can with your seatbelt still on, squishing up your face and sticking your tongue out in turn. Luke giggles and opens the backseat, climbing in and over the bag to sit behind you.

“What’s this?” Luke asks as Ryan climbs in behind him.

“For Ryan’s birthday,” you say, smiling at him over your shoulder. “We’re making a cake when we get home.”

They both cheer as you pull away from the curb and towards the exit off of school property.

Having baked with them before, you knew it could get crazy. Flour usually ends up all over the three of you and the floor. Eggshells seem to get in the batter no matter how much you try to avoid that. But making Ryan’s cake has them amped up to a whole new level.

“Luke, not yet!” You hold the bowl above his head so he can’t pour in the oil that’s not supposed to be added until after the eggs. Mixing a bowl that’s at eye level with you is a difficult task, you find.

“I got the pans!” Ryan holds up the two round pans that will bake the layers of his cake.

“Perfect. Can you spray them?”

“With this?” Ryan asks, holding up the non-stick spray can.

“Yes, sir,” you tell him as you set the bowl down on the counter. “Okay, Luke. Now you can add the oil.”

Once the cake is in the oven, you clean up as best you can while the boys work on their homework at the kitchen table. You’re sweeping the powdery substance off the floor when Luke asks how you spell your name. Going slowly so he can focus and write it down, you tell him.

“Why?” you ask. “What’s it for?”

“Homework,” Luke states simply.

“What’s your homework about?” you ask.

“Gotta draw and write the names of my family.”

The broom stalls in your hands at his words. Quickly, you sweep up the debris and walk to look at Luke’s paper over his shoulder. There you are. All the way to the left of the paper, right next to Eddie. It goes, you, Eddie, Luke, Ryan, and Brittany. At the bottom there’s a brown blob. You’re not sure what it is, but your mind is a little occupied with the idea that Luke considers you part of the family. The pressure of warm tears presses behind your eyes, but you refuse to let them come any further. Not sure if he’d understand your affection through words, you bend down and press a few kisses to the top of his dark brown curls.

“What’s that?” you ask, pointing to the spot at the bottom of his paper.

“My dog,” Luke says with a sigh.

“Is it invisible?” you ask, making a show of looking around the kitchen.

“No,” Luke says with his boyish giggle. His little legs swing underneath the table since they’re too short to touch the ground. “The dog I want.”

“He needs a name too, you know,” you say, tapping at the blank space where the name should go.

“She!” Luke looks up at you, frown pinching his adorable features. “I want a girl dog.”

“My apologies,” you say, bowing your head to the miniature Eddie. “She needs a name, then.”

“Nala!”

“Like The Lion King?” you ask.

“Yes!”

Once you help Luke sound out the name so he can add it to his paper, you take a look and see how Ryan’s homework is coming along.

“Look at you, whizzing through these math problems,” you say, ruffling his honey brown hair. “Little genius over here.”

He gives you a bashful smile and goes back to his work. The boys finish up just as the timer tells you that the cakes are done. Carefully removing them with the ugliest blue and brown checkered oven mitts you’ve ever seen, you place both round pans on top of the stove and turn off the oven.

“Now the icing?” Luke asks.

“Not yet,” you say, slipping off the mitts. “They have to cool first. But do you wanna see what I bought to decorate them?”

Both little boys kneel on the chairs, laying the top half of their bodies on the table so they can watch you unpack the grocery bag. Luke’s eyes widen when he sees the can of frosting and you’re pretty sure there’s some drool forming in the corner of his mouth. The sprinkles make Ryan happy, his face lighting up and grabbing the jar.

“So many colors,” he says as he turns the jar around, tilting the sprinkles so he can watch them slide from side to side. The last thing you unpack is the writing gel and neither kid seems to care.

“What is it?” Luke asks.

“You use it to write on the cake,” you say, flipping the box over and showing them the picture on the back. “We can write ‘Happy Birthday, Ryan!’ on it.”

“We can write anything?” There’s a mischievous glint in Luke’s eye that has you raising an eyebrow on him.

“What is it that you want to write?” you ask.

“Butt,” Luke says, a throaty and immature laugh coming out of him.

“No,” you say. “Maybe you can convince Daddy to let you write than when it’s your birthday cake.”

“That’s so far away!” Luke says, flopping back in his chair dramatically.

“Are you coming to my party?” Ryan asks as he slides out of his seat.

“Sure am, buddy.” You pat the top of your head as he walks by you to get a drink from the fridge. “You excited?”

“Eh,” Ryan says with a shrug of his small shoulders.

“Eh? Why eh?” you ask, frowning at him.

“My cousins are gonna be there,” Ryan answers before taking a sip of water. “They’re mean.”

“Just Sasha,” Luke says to his brother. “Nat and Dmitri are nice.”

“I guess,” Ryan says.

“Are these Mom’s sister’s kids?” you ask, taking a seat at the table.

“Yeah,” Ryan says. He walks over and leans against you, so you wrap your arm around him and press a kiss to his forehead.

“But there’s gonna be lots of other people there,” you tell him. “It’s going to be so much fun!”

A small smile comes to Ryan’s face, and he nods his head. You’d personally keep this Sasha away from Ryan if you had to. He deserves to have fun at his birthday party, not worry about what some mean kid might say.

“Okay,” you say, patting Ryan’s arm. “Who wants to play Hungry Hungry Hippos while we wait for the cake to cool?”

Of course they did, so that’s what you spend the next hour doing. The first time, you let them win. But after that, they were beating you just on their own pure speed. It looked like Luke was going to crack the back of the orange hippo.

Standing up once another round has finished, you walk over to the cake to see if it’s still too warm. It’s down to room temperature so you help the boys clean up the game before setting the decorating items on the kitchen table.

There’s a stereo just on the other side of the wall of the kitchen, in the living room. Decorating calls for some music, you decide, so you open your purse and find the mixed tape that your friend made for you. Usually, mixed tapes are just that: a mixture. But this one was made up of only Billy Joel songs; your favorites all on one convenient tape. First making sure that the thin glossy material of the tape is all on the left side, showing it’s been rewound, you click the tape into place and press play. The opening notes play as you make your way back into the kitchen.

What's the matter with the clothes I'm wearing?

Can't you tell that your tie's too wide?

Maybe I should buy some old tab collars?

Welcome back to the age of jive

Luke starts to dance in the middle of the kitchen, mostly consisting of head bobs and moving his shoulders back and forth, but it’s still cute. Keeping one eye on his theatrics, you bring the cakes over to the kitchen table and set each on a plate. The pop topped from the frosting, the gel tubes out of their box, and sprinkle jar ready to rock and roll, you put two plastic knives on the table for the boys to use.

You're just scooping a large dollop on the top of each cake when the front doorknob jingles and all three of your heads turn in that direction. Eddie steps inside and tosses his keys down. He takes a step towards your direction but halts mid step as he sees the three of you looking at him.

“Hi?”

Luke slides down from his seat and runs to his dad, Eddie scooping him up effortlessly under his armpits and holding the little boy against his chest.

“Daddyyyy!” he roars.

“Luuuuuke,” Eddie answers, deepening his voice to match the one Luke tried to use. Eddie’s head turns towards the stereo and then he looks at you, eyes narrowed and a smirk on his lips. “You’re subjecting my children to Billy Joel now?”

“They deserve to hear what good music sounds like,” you answer with your own smirk. Truthfully, you love the music that Eddie listens to, it’s just fun to mess with him.

“Daddy, do you wanna help decorate?” Ryan asks, eyes wide with hope. Eddie could never say no to that face.

“Sure thing, buddy,” Eddie says as he sets Luke down. “Just let me get cleaned up and changed.”

As he heads down the hall, Luke climbs back onto his chair and starts to smooth the white icing around on the yellow cake.

“More,” Luke says.

“I don’t think so,” you say, eyeing the cake in front of him. “That’s plenty. Just move it around more.”

He lets out a huff, sounding just like his father.

“This good?” Ryan asks. His cake is completely covered on the top, now just the sides need to be done.

“Good job,” you tell him.

Eddie comes back into the kitchen, a pair of sweatpants hung low on his hips and a gray t-shirt, arm tattoos on full display for you to enjoy. There’s nothing inherently sexy about the clothes but seeing them on Eddie is making you feel hot all over. He takes a seat at the table, next to Ryan, and looks over the sprinkles and colored gel.

“You didn’t have to get all this,” Eddie says to you, but you just wave him off.

“I knew he’d like it and I was right.”

“Okay, seriously, how much do I owe you?” Eddie asks.

“Nothing,” you say with a laugh. “Keep your money and ice your son’s birthday cake.”

Eddie smirks and gives you a mocking salute before picking up a knife to help Ryan cover the sides. Once both cakes are sufficiently coated, Eddie stacks them, and you touch up any frosting that got messed up.

The song on the stereo changes to Just the Way You Are and the slow melody has Luke closing his eyes and swaying in his seat, making you chuckle. Ryan picks up the sprinkles and makes them rain down, colored speckles brightening up the plain white dessert.

Don't go trying some new fashion

Don't change the color of your hair, mmm

You always have my unspoken passion

Although I might not seem to care

Little fingers grab your hand and pull. Turning towards Luke, you see him trying to pull you over to the middle of the kitchen.

“What?” you ask as you get up and go where he leads you. Once he gets you where he wants you, he keeps a hold of your hand in his and wraps his other arm around the back of your thighs, since it’s the only part of you he can really reach. He starts to sway back and forth, and it dawns on you that he’s trying to slow dance with you. The adoring grin on your face as you look down at the little boy has your cheeks hurting for the second time today. His big blue eyes return your gaze, his own smile just about the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. Luke quickly tires of the slowness, letting go of you and drifting back to the table to try his own hand at the sprinkles.

“Hey!” you say, jutting your lower lip out at Luke for abandoning you on the dance floor.

Ryan’s pouting next to him, where he’s still trying to get sprinkles to stick to the side of the cake.

“You can’t just leave her there!” Ryan says to his little brother. He looks down at his sticky little hands and then back to you. His mind must deduce that he can’t dance with you like this. Plus, he’s still working. “Daddy, you dance with her.”

Eddie’s eyes widen for a second as he looks at Ryan, but the look is quickly gone, replaced by that damn smile that drives you crazy. The man rises from his seat and takes a few steps over to you and you feel like your heart might actually explode. Is he really going to dance with you? This has to be a dream.

Eddie extends his hand to you, which you don’t hesitate to take. He pulls you to him, causing you to giggle and a flush to move up your cheeks. One strong arm wraps around your waist and you think that this just might be the best moment of your life. His other hand, rough and calloused from years of manual labor, holds your smaller, softer hand. When you drape your other arm over his shoulder, hand so close yet so far from the curls at the base of his neck that you always want to play with, Eddie starts to sway back and forth with you. Feeling his body pressed against yours, arm wrapped around your body, hand holding yours, you begin to feel lightheaded. It’s because your breathing has sped up, you realize, and you have to manually take control of your lungs, telling them to inhale longer and exhale fully.

A surprised giggle leaves your lips as Eddie lets go of your waist and twirls you around by your hand. He’s smiling when you turn back around to face him, his eyes bright and shining.

I said I love you, that's forever

And this I promise from the heart, mmm

I couldn't love you any better

I love you just the way you are, right

The emotion of the lyrics as Eddie pulls your body back against his has you feeling like you’re underwater. Everything is in slow motion and sounds are garbled, but it’s perfect. You’re sure your skin is on fire and you’re not sure how Eddie isn’t scalding his hands on you.

Eddie looks down at you as you dance, his dark brown eyes locked on yours, never looking away. Normally, you’d shrink from anyone looking at you this intently, but it’s Eddie. It feels flattering and warm and intimate in a way that you don’t know how to describe. There’s nothing wrong with what you’re doing. First you danced with Luke, then his dad, at Ryan’s insistence. It’s completely innocent.

As the song comes to a close, Eddie dips you, grip tightening on you as you squeal at the surprise. He chuckles and pulls you back up to your feet. When he takes his hands off you, you feel suddenly cold. Like something is missing. Eddie bends at the waist, bowing to you, so you give him a curtsy in return.

“That’s how you dance with a lady,” Eddie says, giving a playful, barely-there smack on the back of Luke’s head. “Gonna have to teach you to be a gentleman, I see.”

Luke ignores him, finishing up his sprinkle job, but you think there are more sprinkles on Luke than the cake. Ryan hands you a red tube of writing gel, and Eddie a yellow. He has the green one gripped in his small hand.

“Okay, I want you to write ‘Happy,’” Ryan tells his dad before turning to you. “And I want you to write ‘Birthday.’ I’m gonna write my name.”

Following his instructions, Eddie goes first. He takes his time, tongue poking out in concentration as the yellow gel slips out, curling into the letters weaved by Eddie’s hands in the air. When it’s your turn, you realize you have the longest word to write. As you’re halfway through, the song changes to Uptown Girl and a smile ticks onto your face.

“My favorite,” you say as you curl the H in birthday. It comes out looking pretty good if you do say so yourself. Ryan takes his time with his name as well. Glancing over to Eddie, you see he’s staring off into space, zoned out, mind far away.

Uptown girl

You know I can't afford to buy her pearls

But maybe someday when my ship comes in

She'll understand what kind of guy I've been

And then I'll win

The beginnings of a smile twitch at one corner of Eddie’s mouth and you’d give anything to know what he’s thinking about so intently.

“Done!” Ryan announces, breaking Eddie from his trance.

“It looks great, buddy,” Eddie says, patting his oldest son on the back. “Let’s put it in the fridge now.”

Ryan nods and Eddie’s careful in carrying the plate. You open the refrigerator door for him, and he slides it on the top shelf.

“There we go,” Eddie says as you close the fridge. He looks over and sees Luke covered in frosting, sprinkles, and somehow the gel, even though he didn’t touch it. “Luke, you need to go take a bath.”

The boy pouts but slides off the chair and walks down the hallway.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Luke!” you call before he can get into the bathroom.

“Okay! Bye!” he calls back.

“Come on, Ry,” Eddie says. “Help me clean up.” Eddie grabs the sponge and groans, shooting you a playful glance. “Can't believe you made a mixtape of just Billy Joel.”

“I didn’t make it,” you say, grabbing the kitchen towel and swatting Eddie with it. “My friend Paul made it for me.”

“Oh?” Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow. Ryan takes the can of icing off the table along with the gel tubes, and Eddie runs the sponge over the green tiled table. “Paul, huh? You know, guys usually make mixtapes for girls they like.”

“Mm,” you hum, cheeks warming. “Love songs, I believe. And Paul’s majoring in music so he makes tapes for everyone.”

Eddie’s tempted to tell you that you should have Paul introduce you to new music, but he can’t bring himself to suggest you spend time with another guy. A college guy, especially, your own age and who you probably hang out with. His grip tightens on the sponge, the water and suds squishing between his fingers.

“Making a mess, Dad,” Ryan says with a giggle, poking at a bubble one of the suds produces.

“Go wash up with your brother, okay?” Eddie says. Ryan stops in front of you and holds his arms out for a hug, which you eagerly return.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I can't wait.”

Ryan grins up at you when you release him from your arms. “Me neither! Bye.”

“Bye, sweetie,” you say, giving him a wave as he heads down the hallway. Towel still in your hands, you wipe down the table with it as Eddie puts the sponge back in the sink. The next Billy Joel tune is on and you’re humming it to yourself before you start to sing along.

Who knows how much further we'll go on

Maybe I'll be sorry when you're gone

I'll take my chances

I forgot how nice romance is

I haven't been there for the longest time

There’s a smile on your face as you sing the words, the lyrics bringing Eddie to mind. Not that he isn’t always on your mind.

“Sing those lyrics to Paul?” Eddie asks.

With a frown, you turn to face him. “No. Paul and I aren’t anything. Why?”

“You had a lovesick expression on your face,” Eddie says, his voice a little harder than usual. Did you really have your emotions playing across your face like that?

“Oh, Eddie,” you say with an over dramatic sigh. “It’s just because I love Billy Joel so much.”

Eddie flicks a few water droplets at you, and you giggle when they hit your face.

“God, I’m gonna puke,” Eddie says, trying, and failing, to conceal a playful smile.

“What?” you ask, giving him wide innocent eyes. “You don’t like Billy Joel? Huh, well that’s okay, Eddie.” You walk over to your purse and start to rifle through it, Eddie’s eyes tracking your every movement. “Here, maybe this will be better.” New cassette clutched in your hand, you go over to the stereo and stop the Billy Joel tape.

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow as he waits for you to switch to whatever God awful – he can only assume – music you’re going to put on. The new tape snaps back into the stereo and you’re strolling back in the kitchen to drop the Billy Joel tape back in your bag as the opening notes on this particular tape start.

“No,” Eddie says, eyes narrowing at you when he starts to recognize the song. You pay no mind to him as you zip your purse back up, singing along with the lyrics as they start.

Life is a mystery

Everyone must stand alone

I hear you call my name

And it feels like home

“You’re honestly subjecting me to Madonna?” Eddie’s eyes look like they’re going to pop out of his skull. Ignoring his words this time, you keep singing along and twirl until you’re standing right in front of Eddie. Looking up at him with a mischievous smile, you grab his hands in yours and try to get him to dance along. He refuses, but you just keep standing there in front of him, moving your hips back and forth as you keep singing.

When you call my name, it's like a little prayer

I'm down on my knees, I wanna take you there

Eddie’s breath catches in his chest. The image the lyrics evoke in his mind is not something he should be thinking about – let alone with you right in front of him.

I'm down on my knees, I wanna take you there

The line keeps repeating in his head on a loop accompanied by the image of you on your knees in front of him. Looking up from below him, your beautiful eyes wide and your lips pouted. Fuck. Why did he decide to put sweatpants on? Shit, he needs to get out of the kitchen before you can see his boner.

“Uh, those two have been in the bathroom a dangerously long time,” Eddie says. Mercifully, you stop moving your perfectly sculpted hips when he speaks, giving Eddie a moment to compose himself a bit more. “Better go make sure they’re all washed up before I start dinner.”

“Okay,” you say, taking a few steps back from him to go collect your tape from the stereo. You pop it back in your purse and slide the bag onto your shoulders.

“See you tomorrow?” Eddie asks, turning his body towards the hall to better hide himself. “Party’s at one.”

“I can come by early and help set up?”

Even when desperately trying to usher you out of the house, he’s anxious to get you to come back as soon as possible. “Sure. Twelve? Little after?”

“I’ll be here,” you tell him, giving him a smile that’s not doing any favors for the hard on in his pants.

He gives you a smile in return, along with a wave before he heads down the hall to the bathroom where the critters are probably making a mess.

As if picking out a bathing suit to wear for any other occasion wasn’t frustrating enough, now you have to pick one that Eddie would see you in. Impossible as it was, you managed to pick one. It’s a one-piece dark green suit with cut outs along the sides, exposing the sides of your ribs. It became the winning suit mostly because of how well it holds your boobs up, though. The girls are on display, but not about to fall out of your suit. A pair of denim shorts and a faded white t-shirt are your choices to throw on top of it. You scoop up Ryan’s gift and head out the door.

When you park your car in front of the Munson residence you can tell the backyard is being set up. Luke’s loud voice sounds from around the house, chattering away to who you can only assume is Eddie. The sound of patio chairs scraping against the pool deck drowns out the little boy’s voice, but you hear Eddie hum in agreement with something he said. Just that little sound from Eddie has an involuntary smile spreading on your face and you head to the side of the house where the gate to the backyard is located.

“Luke, can you move that chair over? The one by the grill.”

Eddie catches sight of you as you come around the corner of the house. His face lights up and it almost causes you to trip over your own sandals. When he goes to open his mouth to say hello, you hold your finger up to your lips, eyes darting towards Luke and back again. Eddie nods, a smirk playing over his lips. Slowly so as not to make a sound, you put Ryan’s gift down on the table closest to you and kick off your shoes. Luke’s back is still turned as you tiptoe closer to him. Striking, you reach out and snatch the small boy in your arms, hugging him to your chest. Squeals escape his tiny frame as he wriggles in your arms, and you press kisses to his cheek.

“Got you!” you call over his laughter.

Eddie’s chuckling as he watches the two of you, untangling a string at the end of a “Happy Birthday” banner.

“You scared me!” Luke says.

“That was the point,” you say as you tickle his sides. He wiggles his way out of your grip and gives you a playful push. You pretend to stumble back, as if his strength was just too much for you. The triumphant look on his face melts your heart and you just want to snatch him up again. But before you can, Eddie’s voice calls for you.

“What’s up?” you ask, strolling over to the man.

“This ladder is kind of wobbly, can you hold it for me while I hang up the sign?” he asks.

“I can do it,” you say, holding your hand out for the banner.

“You sure?” Eddie asks, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you say. “I trust you holding the ladder more than I do me.”

“If you insist.” He hands over the sign and you climb a few rungs up the ladder. Eddie’s hands hold the ladder on either side of your body, and he feels his cheeks flush when your ass is right at his eye level. Giving himself just a moment to enjoy the view, he decides not to be a perv and look up to where you’re securing the banner above the back door.

“How’s it look?” you ask.

Your ass? Perfect, he thinks to himself.

“Uh, looks good,” Eddie says. You climb down and are boxed in by the older man’s arms as he still holds on to the ladder. His lips quirk to the side as your eyes meet his. “Looks, um, really good.”

Eddie bites his bottom lip, only breaking his trance when the back door opens, and he instinctively wraps his arm around you to tug you out of its way. The door bangs against the ladder and Ryan winces as he steps outside. He’s about to apologize when his eyes take in you standing there. The fear in Eddie screams that Ryan’s eyes went wide because his arm is around you, so he quickly drops it. But really, Ryan is just excited to see you. He runs over and throws his arms around your middle, burying his face in your stomach.

“Hey, you! Happy birthday, Ryan.”

“Thank you!” Ryan pulls back, giving you a grin.

Eddie folds the ladder in and picks it up, your eyes immediately drawn to his muscles flexing in his Iron Maiden tee that he probably cut the sleeves off of himself.

“Luke!” Brittany shouts from inside and it seems like all four of you in the backyard tense at the sound. Her footsteps are quickly approaching the back door and Luke groans, shuffling himself closer to you and Ryan. The door hinges squeak and Ryan’s grip tightens around you.

“There you are,” Brittany says, eyes locking on her youngest son. Her eyes glance briefly over to you, then back to Luke. “Hi.”

It takes a moment before you realize she was talking to you. “Uh, hi, Brittany.”

“Luke, come inside and help me. Eddie, you need to get the towels out of the linen closet.”

“Okay,” Eddie says. He ruffles Luke’s hair and prods him along to follow his mom inside.

“Need me to do anything out here?” you ask.

“Uh…” Eddie slips his hands into the pockets of his black jeans and looks around the patio. “Not gonna light the grill til people start getting here. Chairs and tables are all set up. Oh!” He snaps his fingers and walks over to pull a box off of one of the deck chairs. “Can you put the birthday tablecloths on the tables?”

“Of course.” Bending down, you press a kiss to the top of Ryan’s head. “I put your present right over there. Wanna take it inside?”

“Yes!”

For the next forty-five minutes you help the Munson’s around the house, setting up decorations, putting the snacks into bowls, and trying to keep Luke from shaking Ryan’s gifts around to try and figure out what’s inside. You're pulling the burgers and hotdogs out of the fridge in preparation for Eddie to grill when the man in question walks into the kitchen, Iron Maiden shirt still on, but his jeans exchanged for a pair of silver swim trunks.

“Where are the boys?” he asks.

“Getting changed into their bathing suits,” you say as you knock the fridge closed with your hip.

The doorbell rings and Eddie heaves a sigh. “And so it begins.” He heads out to answer it and comes back in with an older man whom you recognize from photographs. Still, Eddie introduces the two of you.

“This old geezer is my Uncle Wayne,” Eddie says, playful smirk set on his pretty lips.

“Ah, you must be the young lady the boys are always talking about.”

Wayne offers his hand which you shake with a polite smile on your face. Eddie hopes neither of you notice the pink tinge over his cheekbones because he knows he’s guilty of talking about you more than he probably should.

“I guess that’s me,” you say.

“Grandpa!” Luke runs in and launches himself at the older man. Wayne laughs and catches the young boy, swinging him up into his arms.

“There’s my troublemaker,” Wayne says.

“Fitting nickname,” you say with a giggle and Luke sticks his tongue out at you.

“Tongue to yourself,” Eddie says, tugging on one of Luke’s curls.

Over the next hour you’re introduced to so many people that you sincerely hope no one expects you to remember them all. There’s Brittany’s sister Sandy and her three children (that you can already tell are a handful), Eddie’s friend Dustin that you’ve heard so much about, and you definitely remember Steve Harrington—because he’s so handsome.

“Hi,” you say, offering Steve your hand to shake. His wife Nancy and their four kids have already come in and gone out to the backyard, but Steve was lagging behind since he was getting the presents out of the car.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Steve says, shooting you a smile. Maybe it’s his old high school insecurities kicking in, but Eddie quickly claps Steve on the back and sends him out by the pool.

But your favorite people you think you’ve today are also old friends of Eddie’s from high school. They came into the house bickering, but somehow it was in an adoring way that let you know it was them showing affection for one another. The man was tall, taller than both Eddie and Steve, and had an infectious smile. His wife had her fiery red hair up in a high ponytail and their baby in her arms.

“This is Lucas, Max, and little baby Tiffany,” Eddie tells you. Tiffany looks up at you with wide dark eyes, a gleeful expression on her chubby little face.

“Oh, she’s precious,” you coo, smiling at the happy little girl. “How old is she?”

“Eight months,” Lucas says, looking adoringly at his daughter.

You end up sitting with the little family outside by the pool, on a deck chair next to Max while she holds the giggling baby in her lap. Ryan is happy, splashing away in the pool with his friends. It warms your heart to see the normally quiet boy laughing so loudly and having the time of his life. Eddie’s at the grill, flipping hamburgers and surrounded by Dustin, Steve, and Lucas. You’ve never seen Eddie with his friends before. He’s relaxed, spatula in his hand, and an easy smile on his face. They’re all laughing at something Dustin said and it brings joy to your face.

“Oh, shit,” Max says from next to you, drawing your attention away from Eddie.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, turning to face her.

“I left her favorite pacifier in the car,” she answers with a sigh.

“Do you want me to go get it?” you offer.

“I’m not sure where it is in there.” Max stands, holding Tiffany on her hip. “Would you mind holding her while I go check?”

“Not at all,” you say, a smile on your face as the little girl beams at you. Max hands her over and her tiny fingers go right up to your mouth, making you giggle.

“I should be back in five minutes. But Lucas is over there if you need him.”

“Oh, we’ll be fine,” you assure her, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s my job.”

Max gives you a smile before heading back into the house.

“Well, hello, Miss Tiffany,” you say, holding her on your hip. She babbles in the language of babies, and you tilt your head. “I know. I agree.”

Eddie looks up from the grill to say something to Steve, but over his friend’s shoulder he catches sight of you holding Tiffany. It feels like his heart is going to liquify and melt right out of his chest. He’s always wanted a baby girl. But he also did not want to have any more children with Brittany. But seeing you, the girl he has a completely inappropriate crush on, holding a baby girl? Smoke is going to start coming out of his ears, joining that from the grill.

“Uh, Steve, watch the grill for me? Just gotta ask what some people want to eat.” Eddie’s not even really looking at Steve as he shoves the spatula in his hand, moving past his group of friends and walking over to you. As he gets closer, he can hear you talking to Tiffany in that squeaky voice all adults seem to talk to young children in. The baby is giggling and waving her little hands around and it makes Eddie smile.

“Well, seems like you made a new friend,” Eddie says, coming to stand beside you so he can admire the girl as well.

“And she’s just the sweetest little thing,” you say, still in the baby talk voice. Tiffany starts to fuss a little in your arms, but you’re quick to readjust her position and hike her up a little higher on your hip. It seems to have done the trick because she rests her head on your chest and looks up at Eddie with her large dark eyes.

“Hey there, Tiffany,” Eddie says. She blinks at him, dark eyelashes kissing her cheek.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” you ask.

“Absolutely,” Eddie says, eyes glancing at you.

“I want one,” you say, only half joking. As if Eddie couldn’t want you any more than he already did, you had to go and say that. He can’t help it, he leans in and brushes a soft touch over Tiffany’s thin brown hair on the top of her head, Eddie’s head practically resting on your shoulder as he does it. He wants this so bad it hurts. His heart is in a vice grip and every day the handle seems to turn it even tighter.

It’s affecting you as well. You’ve always wanted kids and loved being around them. It’s why you became a babysitter to begin with. But holding this sweet little girl with Eddie standing so close to you? You can’t help it, you close your eyes and let the fantasy take hold that this is your and Eddie’s baby in your arms. The warmth of his body is radiating over to you and the baby lays gently against your breast. The boys are having fun in the pool, and this is your little family.

“Got it.” Max’s voice breaks you out of your illusion. She’s brandishing a green pacifier in the air as if it’s a trophy, the prize she’s been searching for. As soon as Tiffany catches sight of the pacifier, it gains all of her attention. She makes grabby hands for it and Max is quick to pop it into her mouth.

“Thank you so much,” Max says as she takes the baby from your arms.

“Not a problem. She was a little angel,” you tell her.

“She gets that from me.” Max smirks at Eddie, as if she’s expecting his bark of laughter even before he does it.

“Uh huh,” Eddie says. “Check that red hair again, I’m sure you’ll find some horns growing beneath it.”

“I’d flip you off if my child wasn’t in my arms,” Max says.

“Then thank you, Tiffany,” Eddie says, leaning in towards the baby. She reaches out and tugs on one of Eddie’s curls.

“See? She said that’s what you get for talking like that about her mom,” Max says.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie says. “What do you want to eat?” He then asks you and pats your shoulder before walking back over to the grill.

The kids aren’t thrilled when they have to come out of the water to eat, because they know they’ll have to wait for a half hour afterwards before they can go back in. But Eddie had been prepared for that level of boredom from these rambunctious rugrats and had a few games set up for them on the back lawn. It wasn’t much, but the kids seemed to enjoy playing with the bean bag toss and the horseshoes.

Once the half hour is up, you’re ambushed by Ryan who insists you come in the pool. Trying to tell him that you don’t want to seems futile since he has the double advantage of having those adorable puppy dog eyes and the fact that it’s his birthday on his side. He cheers when you agree, and the sound draws the attention of his father who had been talking with Wayne. But his gaze has been captured elsewhere when he sees you strip your white shirt over your head, revealing the green swimsuit beneath. When you bend over to take off your denim shorts, Eddie loses all coherent thought in his head. You turn to face Ryan fully, which also has you facing Eddie head on. His eyes take in every inch of you. From the way the bathing suit lifts your already impressive breasts, how the cutouts on the side of the suit tease him with glimpses of your soft, smooth skin, to the way the material hugs your hips just right and your long legs are left bare. They look so inviting and the only thought that goes through Eddie’s mind is that he wants to mark them up. Make that soft skin turn purple and red under his adoring mouth.

You follow Ryan into the pool, taking one step at a time. The deeper you get, the colder it gets, so your muscles tense as you wade into your waist. Eddie chuckles as he sees you gritting your teeth, your shoulders pulled up to your ears, and your arms held just above the water, but not touching.

Luke swims over and throws himself at you, making you squeal as the water from his body and the splash send goosebumps down your skin.

“S’cold,” you say to Luke who only giggles in return. You wrap your arms around his small waist as he clings to you, arms coming up to encircle your neck.

“Throw me?” Luke asks.

“Yeah?” you ask, and he nods his head wildly, wet curls bouncing and shaking water everywhere.

Moving your hands to the sides of his tummy, you bend your knees to coil your energy up before tossing the five-year-old into the deep end of the pool. He makes a splash, showering some of the other kids in the pool–who you were careful to avoid when throwing him. Luke pops back up, laughing as he shakes the water from his head like a dog coming out of the bath.

“Not far enough!” he shouts as he swims back over to you.

“Well, sor-ry,” you say, wrinkling up your nose at him.

“Daddy throws me farther,” Luke says.

“Well, your daddy is stronger than I am.”

“Daaaaaaddy!”

You wince at Luke’s volume, him taking full advantage of not having to use his inside voice.

“Luuuuke,” Eddie replies, strolling over to the edge of the pool, hands on his hips.

“Can you come throw me?” Luke asks, treading water. He has to squint his blue eyes in the sunlight to see his father semi clearly.

“Didn’t I just see you flying in the air?” Eddie asks, gesturing towards the deep end of the pool.

“Apparently, I’m not strong enough to throw him as far as he wants to go,” you say, tilting your head as you look up at Eddie, attempting not to ogle him.

“This kid and his high standards,” Eddie says with a sigh. He reaches down, whips his shirt off, and all attempts not to blatantly stare become futile. The muscles rippling in his lithe frame as he tosses the shirt back onto an empty chair have you biting your lip to keep in an inappropriate noise.

Eddie steps forward, letting himself just drop into the pool with an effortless grace. It causes a large splash that smacks both you and Luke in the face but judging by the smirk on his face when he resurfaces, Eddie did it on purpose. “All right, come here you little hobbit.”

You watch Eddie grab his son and place his hands under Luke’s armpits. The excitement is clear on Luke’s face and it’s contagious, bringing an adoring smile to your lips as you watch the father and son. Eddie double checks to make sure there’s a clear path to throw Luke, then tosses him towards the deep end, the little boy grinning the whole time he’s in the air. Luke was right–his dad throws him farther. Ryan swims over, wanting a turn as well, which leads to most of the kids in the pool wanting to be thrown in the air. Eddie obliges, but you can tell that his muscles are getting tired as the children start to fly less and less farther into the deep end.

“Okay, okay,” Eddie eventually says, his breath labored from all the activity. “That’s enough for now.” He dips under the water to cool down and when he comes back up, you swear he moves in slow motion like some cheesy movie moment; the beads of water dropping down his skin, his hair shaking out around him, curls weighed down from the water. It’s enough to make you go feral.

“Hmm,” Eddie hums, eyes narrowing as he looks at you. There’s a mischievous look on his face and it makes you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Yes?” you ask.

“I think I have enough strength to throw one more person,” he says, sly smirk painting his features.

“No,” you say with a laugh, shaking your head as you try to swim away from him. But he’s too fast. Too fast and too strong as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls your body back against his. The bare back of your shoulders is pressed up against his naked chest and the goosebumps that dot your skin are certainly from that and not the cool temperature of the air now that you’ve been in the water so long. Eddie spins you around so you’re face to face with him, and the ferocity of the turn has you reaching out to place your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. You’re practically nose to nose with him, so you decide to take advantage of the moment and take him in. The darkness of his beautiful eyes. The smattering of freckles that dust the bridge of his hose and up his cheekbones. How plush and pink his lips are, even if they’re slightly chapped. Your eyes follow a droplet of water as it runs over his pretty mouth, down his strong chin, then plops back into the pool.

“Ready?” he asks, voice low. Closing your eyes for a brief moment, you silently thank God you’re in a pool that will keep anyone from seeing how your thighs clench together. If he kept talking to you like that, you’d do anything he asked of you.

“Yes,” you breathe out, as if it’s the only answer you could give him. His grip around your waist tightens, fingers against your bare skin showing through the suit’s cutouts, and you can feel his muscles flexing under your hands that still rest on his shoulders. There’s a small twitch of Eddie’s lips before he’s throwing you, sending you backwards into the water. Holding your breath as you go under, your skin still tingling where his hands had been on you. Body floating back up to the surface, you let out a huff of air once you break the surface. Laughter bubbles out of you as you wipe your eyes, whipping your hair out of your face.

Ryan’s cake is next, and the expression of pure joy on his face has you feeling the pressure of tears behind your eyes. All of the little dancing flames extinguish with just one breath from the newly crowned seven-year-old. Luke is eager for a slice of the cake, not only because he was dying from lack of frosting earlier in the week, but because he was part of the labor that put this confection together.

As the party winds to an end, you’re thoroughly tired, but it’s only fair that you help clean up since you helped set up. In your mind, anyway. Eddie disagrees, practically trying to take empty plates and dirty forks out of your hands when you try to clear the tables. Most of the guests are gone when Sandy, Brittany’s sister, grabs her keys and rounds up her three kids.

“Oh,” Brittany says, coming into the kitchen where you and Eddie are. She grabs her purse off the counter and slides it onto her shoulder. You’re not sure when she changed from the small string bikini she had on before, but she’s now wearing jeans and a nice blouse. “Sandy and I are heading to the store. I’ll be back.” Then she’s out the door. No further explanation. No asking if he needed her to pick up anything. Just leaving him with the remnants of a child’s birthday party, all the burdens falling on him. Or they would have, had you not been there. You would never leave him on his own like this. Your nails dig into your palms, and you drop your hands behind your back so Eddie can’t see. He doesn’t seem all that surprised, though. His eyes stay on the door for a few moments before he sighs and brings his attention back to wrapping up the leftover burgers.

“You okay?” you ask in a small voice. Anger and empathy battle each other in your head, one for the bitch who walked out the door, one for the beautiful man standing in front of you.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, putting the burgers in the fridge. “Surprised she didn’t dip out earlier, to be honest.”

Unsure of what to say, your hands twitch by your sides for a moment before you’re striding forward and wrapping your arms around his middle, laying your head against his shoulder. Eddie hesitates for half a second before his arms come up to encircle your waist, his head resting on top of yours. Neither of you says anything, just stand there in the quiet kitchen, holding onto one another. In both of your heads there’s a little voice telling you that this hug has gone on for too long for it to be considered appropriate between boss and employee, but neither of you care. You’re only jostled apart as you hear the backdoor open on its squeaky hinges. Reluctantly, you let go of one another and don’t meet each other’s eyes as Wayne comes into the kitchen with Luke, both of them bringing in trash from the backyard. As Luke steps towards the sink with the half-filled cup of fruit punch he’s holding, he trips over his own feet and the red liquid goes flying, landing right on the front of your white shirt. The cold drink makes you gasp as it soaks through the chest and stomach. Luke’s eyes immediately widen, tears welling up in them and you forget all about the bite of the wetness.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you say, crouching down and rubbing up and down his arms. “Aw, don’t cry, sweetie. It was an accident.”

“I’m sorry,” Luke says, a few tears spilling over the brim. You wipe them away and shake your head.

“It’s okay,” you say. “I promise.” Luke nods and you help him throw away the rest of the garbage he brought in.

“Luke, why don’t you clean up the floor while I get her a shirt to change into?” Eddie asks. Luke nods his head, letting out one more sniffle before he stands on his tiptoes to get the paper towels off of the counter.

Wayne pats your shoulder, and you give him a smile. “You’re real good with them.”

“Thanks,” you say. “They’re the best.”

“I have to agree,” he says with a gruff chuckle before ushering Luke back outside so they can bring in anything that was left out there.

“Here,” Eddie says as he comes back into the kitchen. He offers you a white raglan shirt with black sleeves. You hold it up in front of you and see the emblem of a red devil’s head, fire and other accessories surrounding the face.

“What’s Hellfire?” you ask.

“Name of the D&D club in high school.”

“Oh right,” you say. “I remember you telling me about that. It’s where you met Dustin, right?”

“Yeah, he was–.” Eddie trips over his own words as you slip your soiled shirt over your head. Yes, you’re wearing your bathing suit underneath still, so you thought nothing of it. But Eddie wasn’t expecting it and all activity moves from his brain down to his crotch. How is supposed to keep composed when you just whipped your shirt off like it was nothing right in front of him, the support of your bathing suit basically forcing your breasts into his view? He feels himself twitch in his swim shorts and clears his throat before continuing. “Dustin, uh, was a freshman, yeah.” He originally had more to say, but nothing else comes out.

As hot as it was when you took your shirt off, Eddie seeing you in a Hellfire shirt, his Hellfire shirt, it makes his brain short-circuit even further. He’s saved from embarrassing himself by stuttering in front of you by Wayne coming back in, throwing out another handful of trash.

“I’m gonna go see if the boys need help,” you say, shooting both men a smile before heading out to the backyard.

As soon as they hear the door close behind you, Wayne rests a heavy hand on Eddie’s shoulder. His uncle sighs and Eddie turns his head to look at him.

“She’s a real sweetheart, that babysitter of yours,” Wayne says.

“She is,” Eddie agrees.

“Pretty, too.”

There’s the slightest arch of Wayne’s eyebrow and Eddie opens his mouth, no sound coming out. He stumbles under the knowing gaze of the man who knows him better than anyone else in the world. Eddie finally manages to nod his head. His tongue pokes out to lick over his lips before he speaks.

“Yeah, she is.”

Once the house is back in order and the boys are tucked into their beds, both you and Eddie crash on the couch. Brittany still hasn’t come back yet to the surprise of neither of you. But if Eddie was completely honest with himself, he’d rather his wife stay out and have you stay here with him.

“Today was fun,” you say, letting your head drop to the back of the couch.

“It was,” he agrees. “More than I thought it would be. But also, way more exhausting.”

“You should get some sleep,” you murmur, shifting yourself so you can head out. But Eddie has other plans, nodding and resting his head on your shoulder. There’s a spike in your heartrate as his hair tickles the side of your neck. Your stomach is full of butterflies and they’re bumping into one another as they fly around. Eddie stays that way until you hear Brittany’s car in the driveway and jostle him awake.

“Eddie,” you say softly, not wanting to scare him.

“Hmm?”

“Brittany’s home.”

If he wasn’t half asleep, he probably wouldn’t have let out the irritated groan like he did, but it’s too late now. Not like you don’t know the two of them are having issues, anyway.

“I’m gonna head out. “I’ll see you on Monday, yeah?”

“See you on Monday. Oh.” He catches your wrist as you stand up from the couch. “Thank you for helping today. Setting up and cleaning. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” you tell him with a smile. “Anything for my favorite boys.”

On Monday, Eddie’s bent under the hood of a car, trying like hell to unscrew a stubborn cap. The voice of his friend startles him and he almost bangs his head on the hood as he jumps.

“Hey,” Steve says.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asks, wiping grease on the rag hanging over his shoulder. “It acting up again?”

“Yep,” Steve says, sliding his hands in his pocket. Eddie lets out a sigh and nods his head.

“Okay, I’ll try and work it in today.” He makes to go back under the hood, but Steve’s question has him freezing his movements.

“So, uh, question for you. Are you fucking the babysitter? Because between you and me? You should be.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #AYW #AYWs #request #older!eddie

1K notes · View notes