#just realized its been like a week or 2 since the last one came out and i forgor...

[fettiowi]

Everytime a new IDW sonic issue comes out the same thing happens, I try to ignore everything about it to not be spoiled until it is available to me and then i forget to read it

[myth1cs]

Love Warning (Hirai Momo x M!Reader)

A bit longer, a little more story with smut at the end to wrap it up.

Word Count: 5,428

"Y/N you can't be serious! Do you know how much I pay you?!"

"Momo it isn't about the money."

You were Momo's secretary ... well not for much longer. You decided you wanted to do more with your life and get a different job. You weren't leaving because your new job would pay more but because it was something you were generally interested in. Being a secretary behind a desk all day every day just wasn't your type of life style.

When you came to that realization you submitted your 2 week notice to Momo and that's what led you to this situation.

"Come on Y/N just name your price and I'll get it for you. Just please don't leave the company you're the best secretary I've had."

"Its not about that. I'm just so tired of spending my life behind a desk looking at the computer."

Momo grabbed your shoulders and looked you dead in the eye. "Y/N please I can't lose you. I don't think I'll ever find someone with half of the expertise that you have."

A soft sigh left you. You fully understood the company was pretty much being carried by you and it would likely see a loss of income if you left but didn't want this to be the reason that you continue to live a boring life.

"My decision is final Momo. I won't change my mind, please understand my decision." You pushed Momo's hands off of your shoulder and left her office.

As soon as you closed the door Momo clenched her fist. "You filthy swine Y/N! After everything I've done for you this is how you repay me? I helped you pay off your student loans, helped you find your first house, I even extended your deadlines which made all the investors yell at me. You won't be leaving the company."

The following day

You walked into work just like any day. You wanted to avoid talking to Momo as much as possible. It's not that you didn't want to see her its just that you didn't want to have any more unnecessary arguing between you two.

"Y/N it's good to see you. How have you been?" Your coworker Han Ji-sung greeted you. It was strange though. Usually Han is someone who keeps to himself. Usually he doesn't interact with you or anyone for that matter so why was he suddenly being talkative towards you?

"I'm fine Han and you?"

"I've been doing well Y/N. I've finally decided to start talking to others instead of being locked inside my cubicle all day."

"Really? I'm glad to hear that."

"Want to grab a snack in the break room with me before you get to work?"

"Sure why not. I skipped breakfast this morning so I could go for a quick snack."

You walked with Han into the break room only to realize it was different from the last time you saw it. Now there were a variety of things in there from vending machines, arcade games, a TV, consoles, and even a variety of board games. "Since when did this room get a renovation?"

"Didn't you hear? Momo actually went ahead and renovated the break room after we all left. It must've cost her a lot of money huh?"

"Momo did all of this?" To say you were a bit shocked would be an understatement. You weren't dumb you knew that she likely did all of this to encourage you to stay but you didn't know she would go this far.

"Honestly I'm glad to know that our boss actually cares about our well being. I always felt like she gave off cold vibes but I'm glad I was proven wrong."

"She probably doesn't care much for you, she's likely just doing this to convince me to stay." You thought to yourself. You didn't have the heart to tell Han that Momo likely wasn't doing this out of the kindness of her own heart.

"Yeah ... she really is a great boss huh?"

"Are those my two favorite employees Han and Y/N? It's so nice to see you two here." Momo went up to the both of you and put one of her hands on Han's shoulder and the other on yours.

"Han go ahead and go home today you deserve it."

"A-are you sure Mrs. Hirai?"

"Of course now go ahead and go home."

You waited for Han to leave before you spoke up. "Momo isn't this a bit too much?"

"Mhm? What do you mean Y/N?"

"Don't act dumb. I know you did this to try to keep me here."

"Y/N this isn't about you. I did this cause I thought that the break room could use a renovation."

"H-have you been sleeping?" You noticed Momo sounded tired. You could tell she was acting energetic. Was she really neglecting sleep over you leaving?

"What? Of course I have! What kind of question is that?!"

You let out a sigh filled with concern "Momo I understand you want me to stay but still you shouldn't be doing this to yourself."

She let out a soft chuckle "I already told you it isn't about that. I respect your decision. I'll be in my office if you need me."

What should you say? Should you stop her? "No there's always the chance I'm wrong. Her business doesn't involve me." is what you thought to yourself but you couldn't shake a nagging feeling in your head. You had a feeling you'd find out what it is sooner rather than later.

-

That Night

You were supposed to have clocked out an hour and a half ago. But here you were hiding under your desk waiting for everyone to leave. You wanted proof, you had to see it with your own eyes. Was Momo really neglecting sleep?

The last employee Yu Jimin (Karina) left and you peaked over your desk.

"She's the last one. Now I'm alone, what could convince Y/N to stay? Ah I know but I need to start now or else I won't finish in time."

Momo grabbed her keys for her car and left the office.

"Sh-shes really doing this to keep me around. Shit this is bad I have to make a choice where neither option is good I either stay and continue doing a job I hate for the rest of my life or I leave. But I can't stand watching this. She is probably stressed out because of me so leaving isn't an option but neither is staying here!"

Unsure what to do you stayed around and waited for Momo to return. "Shit, shit, shit what do I do? Why are you stubborn Momo just give up on me I'm not worth it."

After waiting a while you finally heard the doors open.

"What are in the bags she's carrying?"

"Fuck I got lost in the store. I need to get started now."

Momo rushed into the office and started to get what she bought out of the bags. It was ... decorations?

She went around and decorated the office to make it look nice. "But what could possibly be the occasion?" You questioned yourself. You couldn't do anything but watch as your boss ran around putting up decorations.

As much as it pained you seeing your boss run around even though she was clearly tired you were also getting tired. "No not now." you thought to yourself. But it didn't last long eventually your tiredness got the best of you and you fell asleep.

-

Morning

Momo finished decorating the office. She never noticed you hiding under your desk likely due to her exhaustion. You woke up sitting on the cold floor cramped under your desk.

"Ouch I'm never sleeping on the floor again."

You picked yourself up and looked around. You quickly noticed the decorations in your office and decided to check the time. It was still before opening hours. You started to wonder where Momo was in all of this and how she didn't find you when she was decorating your office.

But did you really have time to ponder that? Shouldn't you try to leave before Momo catches you in the building?

As if right in queue Momo walked in the building carrying bags. "Hopefully they should stay warm until Y/N gets here. If not I hope he's okay with reheated food."

"She brought food? But why?" Many questions raced through your head and you considered if you should confront her about this. "Should I confront her? No if I try to confront her now she'll likely be more defensive. If I want to get a real answer from her I'm going to have to do it at the right moment but when would be a good moment for me to get her to tell me the truth." For you this was beyond trying to keep you in the company. Momo must have ulterior motives for trying to keep you around. "Even if she thinks I'm a good employee worth keeping around she wouldn't go to this length to get me to stay so what is it?"

"Maybe I should try to get her to come out and drink with me. But if I do it suddenly she might get suspicious. Ah I got it I'll do it on my last day here at work and will just use the fact that it's my last day as an excuse."

You finally had a plan in mind to get the "truth" from Momo. Now you just had to keep hiding until your shift started so you could "suddenly" show up.

Momo was walking by putting in the finishing touches but suddenly your stomach growled. Since you skipped dinner by staying in the office and hadn't had breakfast you were hungry and your stomach was trying to tell you that but it unintentionally alerted Momo that someone was in the office building. "Is someone there?"

You tried to think of something to do but it was too late she was already heading towards your location. You did the only thing you could think of and that was to pretend you were still asleep.

"Y/N?!"

She found you sitting under your desk.

"Guess he must've fell asleep. But why did he choose to sleep under his desk?" She had many questions but didn't want to disturb you. "Come on Y/N let me put you on the couch." Momo picked you up and carried you to the break room.

But you did notice something while she was carrying you. It was almost as if your heart was speeding up when she laid her hands on you. You also noticed her smell, she smelled perfect. You wanted to be able to smell her scent all day long and were a bit sad when she finally laid you down on the couch in the break room.

"I should've gotten a blanket for the break room" Momo thought to herself. She decided on taking off her jacket and used it to cover you in order to keep you warm.

Momo got a good look at you "Ugh Y/N why do you have to be so ... wait he's sleeping and no one is around so before he wakes up I could ... no wait what am I thinking?! I shouldn't think this!"

She ran out of the break room and that was your queue to "wake up."

Before you got up you took a moment to compose yourself. Your heart was still beating fast from when she carried you to the break room. "All she did was carry me so why is my heart beating fast?"

After a few minutes you were able to compose yourself and left the break room. It was 20 minutes before the office opened.

You didn't see Momo anywhere so you decided to check her office. As you made your way to the office you noticed how the building was decorated. She must've put in a lot of effort while you were sleeping. Honestly you were surprised she did all of this on her own.

Walking up to her door took a deep breath and lightly knocked on her door. "Y/N is that you? Come in."

Opening the door you saw Momo behind her desk working. "I see you finally woke up. Were you crunching numbers too hard yesterday and decided to take a nap under your desk?" You weren't expecting her to have the current demeanor she had but decided to go along with it.

"Yeah I guess I was overworking myself. It didn't help that I stayed up until 1am the night before."

"Geeze Y/N you tell me to get better sleep when I think you should be focusing on yourself."

"Actually I saw the building was decorated did you-"

"No it wasn't me. I actually hired people to come and decorate it."

"You're lying." You thought to yourself.

"What's the occasion?"

"Well today is Karina's birthday. I think it would be a nice change if from now on the building was decorated for peoples birthdays."

"Oh really? Well that's nice but what event should we hold to celebrate?"

"Event?"

"Well yeah, Are you a boring person? I bet you're the type of person that held the most boring parties during college."

"That's not true Y/N! I am a fun person to be around!"

"Prove it to me then."

"How do you want me to prove it to you?"

"Mhm ... How about we go to the bar on my last day. It'll be my treat."

"Fine, I'll show you just how fun of a person I can be Y/N."

"Well I'll see you then Momo."

"Y/N wait do you want to get breakfast with me?"

"Breakfast?"

"Since it'll be a few more minutes before work starts I thought it'd be a nice gesture."

Before you could answer your stomach growled and Momo took that as a yes before you said so. She grabbed your hand "Alright let's go!"

There it was again the butterflies you felt. As Momo was leading you somewhere you were stuck looking at her face, her warm soft hand was wrapped around yours and you were hoping she wouldn't let go.

-

"We're here Y/N. Let's eat inside!" She let go of your hand which made you a little upset inside.

"Welcome, What would you two like to order?"

-

Both of you were seated at a table waiting for your food. Momo was looking around the area and decided to look at the ceiling.

"Y/N look we're under a mistletoe! Should we kiss?"

"I - I - uhm..." Your face was turning red. You looked up and confirmed that you both were sitting under a mistletoe. You knew she said it in a joking manner and likely wasn't being serious but a part of you was hoping she was being serious.

Momo was leaning forward slowly. You noticed and also started to lean forward.

Before your lips could meet the waiter came to deliver the breakfast you both ordered.

They set your food on the table and smiled "I'm sorry am I interrupting something?"

That was enough to snap both you and Momo back into your current situation which caused both of you to jump back on your seats.

"No wait it isn't what it looks like!" Momo exclaimed.

"Don't worry couples come here to share romantic moments all the time."

Unsure of whether you should correct them you looked at Momo to see if she would take the initiative to do but she gave you the same look.

"Well if that's all I'll leave you both to it."

"Y - Y/N I'm sorry I got carried away."

"No I don't mind."

Eating in silence you were waiting to see if Momo would break the silence or if maybe you should.

"Uhm anyways Y/N ... how would you suggest I dress for when we go out drinking?"

"Just anything you want."

"So just whatever I find comfortable?"

"Yeah, It's supposed to be a relaxing event for us so just whatever you want to wear will work."

After finishing breakfast you both returned to the office.

-

5 days until Y/N's last day

You wanted to talk about one of your coworkers to see if anyone else has noticed Momo's change in behavior.

"Mina sorry to bother you while your on break but do you have a minute?"

Myoui Mina was the one directly below you. She was also the person who'd most likely replace you once you left.

She put her phone in her pocket before looking up at you "Go ahead Y/N what's up?"

"Have you noticed Momo's behavior change in the past week or so?"

"Yeah I thought that much was obvious."

"W-wait you knew and you haven't done anything about it?"

"Y/N our job is to sit behind the computer and type some numbers in every now and then. It's better not to get involved in things that don't relate directly to us. You might find something you don't like."

"What are you saying?! Momo could be going through some hard times and you're okay with doing nothing?"

"Even she's replaceable."

"You piece of-"

"Calm down Y/N everything is going to be fine."

"And I'm assuming you know more than you're letting on."

"Of course, but you already know you won't get that information out of me."

"Pft ... bitch."

"Y/N if I may ask why do you care so much? After all your leaving in five days, whether or not this company burns to the ground shouldn't be of any concern to you."

"I - I just care alright? It's basic human sympathy."

"No it's not that. You have never been that type of person. Wait don't tell me you have a little crush on our boss don't you Y/N?"

"What?! No I don't!"

Mina smiled at you. She walked up to you and you started taking steps back until you hit the wall. Her arms trapped you against it and you felt her breath hit your neck.

"Let me give you a piece of advice Y/N. Give up or you might regret what you find."

"What are you-"

In a swift motion Mina kissed your lips briefly. They were soft and moist but as quickly as they came they left.

"If you insist on pursuing what you're doing even after my warning then get used to listening and obeying. She doesn't like the defiant type."

"She? Mina what are you-"

"Sorry Y/N but I'm on the clock again. Consider my kiss a "good luck" charm."

Mina left the break room and went back to her office and you were still against the wall in shock from the events that had just transpired.

"Y/N did you just see a ghost or what?"

"Huh?! Karina when did you get in here?"

You were so caught up in your thoughts you didn't realize Karina walked in the break room.

"You didn't notice me? Now I'm really wondering what's been on your mind."

"What do you know about Mina?"

"Oh I see what's happening here."

"You do?"

"You have a crush on Mina and you blew it just now."

"No you have it all wrong!"

"That's why Mina left looking like that. She was probably pissed off at your lackluster attempt of a pickup line. Don't worry Y/N since I'm such a good co-worker I'll teach you what to do so you can get a date with her."

"Would you look at the time I should actually get going."

"Nuh uh Y/N your staying with me."

Karina proceeded to grab your shoulders and kept you occupied for the rest of your break.

-

Day 0

You were at your house getting ready for the night with Momo. You dressed in what you thought was a nice mix casual and somewhat professional.

Heading out to the bar you were hoping that Momo would open up about what's been troubling her in a more casual setting. If anything else her getting drunk should get her to be more honest.

Finally you arrived and called Momo "Hey I'm here where are you?"

"I'll be there in a bit, just hang on tight for me Y/N."

You let out a sigh and decided to go ahead and go inside. Picking a table in the corner you waited for her to arrive and you didn't have to wait long.

Momo finally arrived but you were a bit surprised by her choice of clothing. From the hat, to the jeans, the jacket, and the tie that covered her cleavage it was all very expressive of her body. Something that you never thought you would catch your boss in.

"Ah there you are Y/N."

She sat down next to you and you had to use every ounce of will power to avoid looking at her chest.

"Y/N I really hoped you would have changed your mind by now but you haven't."

"Mhm yeah sorry but my decision is final."

You noticed something in her eyes once you said that. Almost as if what you said triggered something in her.

"Well besides that let's celebrate you, tonight goes to a better future for you Y/N!"

"Let's go ahead and order our drinks."

-

She has a better alcohol tolerance than you thought. Every time you tried to change the conversation she changed it right back to whatever you were talking about before.

You knew she was still sober enough and you felt like you couldn't drink anymore before you started to get seriously drunk and forget why you invited her out to begin with.

"Are you done Y/N? Do you want to call it a night?"

"No I'm not done yet. I'll get myself another drink."

"I'm not making this night go to waste!"

As you sipped down another glass you started feeling dizzy. But when you looked at Momo you realized she was also starting to feel side effects from the alcohol.

"Hey anyways Momo why don't you want me to leave so badly?" You had to ask now or else you would risk letting yourself get wasted.

"Because I said so!"

"Oh so she's that type of drunk." you thought to yourself.

"I bet I can drink more than you Momo."

"No you cannot Y/N and I'll prove it!"

She grabbed another glass and drank it completely in a few seconds. To see just how drunk she was you wondered if you could hand her one of your glasses and get her to drink it.

Without hesitation she grabbed the glass you handed her and downed it.

"Give me more Y/N I'll drink it!"

"Don't you think you've had enough?"

"No now give me more!"

Momo was starting make a scene so you decided to get her to out of their. "Yah where do you think you're taking me I wasn't done!"

Ignoring her yelling you paid the bill and dragged her out of the building despite her protest.

"Where do you live Momo I'm taking you home."

"I'm not telling! Bring me back to the bar I wasn't finished."

You sighed and figured you'd have to bring her back to your place instead.

The usual small walk to your home felt more like half an hour. "Y/N let me go!" Momo repeated all the way back to your home.

Finally you arrived back home while holding her arm. "Can you calm down?!"

"Nooooo Y/NNN I'm not calming dowwnn!"

"Can ask you something Momo?"

"Not until you get me my drink!"

You sighed and got the bottle of alcohol you had. Getting it out and pouring her a shot and handing it to her. "Now can I ask questions?"

She took a sip before answering you "Fine Y/N-ie just cause you gave me this."

"Cause I looovve you Y/N. Do you know how annoying it is to try to convince your favorite employee that you have a crush on to stay only for them to end up leaving?!"

"You have a crush on me?"

"Of course Y/N but I don't think I'll ever tell you though."

You were shocked. Your boss was in love with you this whole time? "Momo I don't know what to say."

Out of the blue Momo got up and made her way to you. "You know how fucking annoying it is to go and do so much and not have it pay off Y/N?"

"Momo I-"

Before you were able to finish talking she used her finger to squeeze your cheeks. "I don't remember giving you permission to speak Y/N. I don't like the defiant type."

As she spoke those words a memory came back to your mind.

"If you insist on pursuing what you're doing even after my warning then get used to listening and obeying. She doesn't like the defiant type."

Quickly you shut your mouth not daring to speak.

Momo saw what you did and chuckled.

"Did Mina tell you that you should obey me?"

"H-how did you know?"

"How about I show you instead of telling you?"

She quickly shoved you to the floor before you could process her words. A loud "thud" sound echoed through your house and you started to feel pain.

"Ouch!"

Momo took off her top and tie but left her jacket on. Her breasts were now fully exposed for you to see.

"I would let you play with these but since you're no longer my employee then I guess I can't let you." She said this with a grin on her face. Playing with herself and the only thing she let you do was watch.

Momo could see your eagerness to touch her in your eyes. "P-please?"

"Is my baby that desperate to touch a girl's breast? But I thought you said your decision was final or did you change your mind?"

"I changed my mind! Please Momo I can't take the teasing."

"Your erection is growing baby. Want help with that."

"Yes!"

"Hm no. Well at least not on your terms."

Momo was having a power trip. Flaunting her big breasts in front of you and not letting you get the relief you wanted. She laid on you, her breast were being pressed up against you and she started kissing your neck.

"Tomorrow let everyone know who owns you."

"But I have to go shopping tomorrow I don't want everyone to know-"

She grabbed your throat and squeezed it making you unable to breathe. "Disobey me one more time without permission and I'll make you fucking regret it Y/N. Do you understand?"

Tears fell down your eyes and you felt yourself losing consciousness. "Yes I understand please let me breathe!"

"Good now, regarding your statement, I don't care. Let everyone in public know what happened today."

She continued marking you and she didn't stop until your whole face was covered with hickeys.

"Any statements you want to get out before I continue Y/N?"

A little confused on why she was suddenly allowing you to ask a question you asked the first question you could think of "Why are you still wearing the hat and jacket?".

"I like this hat. And the jacket excites me. It makes me feel like we're in my office and I'm fucking you. Obviously I wouldn't dare to actually do it there but it adds to the role-play I guess. By the way want anything else? Maybe a drink or a snack?"

"N-no I'm fine Momo."

Although she was clearly in control over you she still took the time to make sure you weren't in total misery. She still cared about your well-being and a part of you felt slightly relieved that even in an intoxicated state she would still consider your feelings.

Momo took off her pants revealing that she wasn't wearing anything underneath. "Finger me." Not one to question her authority you put 2 fingers in and went at a moderate pace so not to discomfort her.

"Mhm so obedient Y/N but slow down the pace a little bit it feels uncomfortable."

You listened to her and slowed your thrust into her pussy. "Yeah just like that Y/N keep that pace for me."

She pulled off your pants and underwear then proceeded to slowly move her hand along your hardening cock.

Her fingers were so soft yet they ignited something in you. Your sensitive cock was hardening with the feeling of her precious hands running along your cock.

"Speed up your pace and I'll pump your cock faster."

Wanting to release your cum you thrusted your fingers into her wet pussy. Keeping her word she pumped your cock faster as your speed increased.

Momo started playing with her nipples and moans came out of her. "Ugh ~ Ah" Twisting and turning her body from the feelings she was getting you were also getting harder from the feeling of her weight shifting on you. "I can't believe I am fingering my boss while watching her play with herself on top of me!"

"I'm cumming!" Your boss released her cum all over you. Her fluids stained the shirt and fingers and shortly after your semen ejaculated from your cock.

Momo moved, now she was sitting on your face "Lick my pussy while I'm still sensitive!"

You inserted your tongue into her pussy and you licked all around her insides. You got a little daring and tried to grab her breasts.

Out of nowhere she grabbed your wrists all of a sudden.

"You piece of shit. Did I allow you to touch me?"

Fear filled your body and you were unable to move. The room was silent for what felt like hours but was only a few seconds.

"Speak to me you fucking bitch!"

"No you didn't!" Your voice was shaky. Momo could hear the fear that was in your voice.

"Left or right?"

"Right?"

Momo let go of your right wrist and twisted your left wrist so hard until it broke.

"Ow fuck!"

"Maybe this will make you learn your lesson. Now lick my pussy."

Not wanting to lose your other wrist you licked her pussy like your life depended on it. Tears fell down your face from the pain you felt.

Moans fell out of Momo's mouth not caring about whatever pain you could be in. After a few minutes her juices flowed out of her pussy and went in your mouth.

The stream lasted so long you were choking on her cum. Eventually you were able to cough up her cum and avoided death by Momo's cum.

"You taste amazing boss." you said while panting.

She got off your face and kissed you. Taking in her own fluids with her tongue, you were able to taste the sweat dripping off of Momo's face.

Momo got off you and laid on the floor before she went to sleep.

Being too tired you slept on the floor with Momo by your side.

-

You were woken up by a loud scream.

"Y/N what happened?!"

Being too tired to respond you just stayed silent.

Momo started to piece together what happened as she saw her breasts and your cock out along with her mouth tasting like alcohol.

"Oh Y/N I'm so sorry I don't know what came over me!"

"Can you drive me to a hospital? My wrist still hurts after you broke it."

"I broke your wrist?!"

-

You and Momo arrived back at work shortly after your hospital visit. She insisted you don't work due to your broken wrist and with your face being covered in hickeys but you felt guilty for making her drink with you.

As you were walking to your office you heard someone call your name. "Long time no see Y/N."

Turning around you saw Mina

"Momo convince you to stay?"

She ignored the hickeyes all over your face but you weren't about to bring them up.

"Y-yeah."

"Was part of convincing you breaking your wrist?"

"You could say that."

Mina strutted towards you going next to your ear "It's not fair Momo got her turn with you. She won't mind if I share you with her so come to my office during your break Y/N."

Giving you a peck on your cheek before she walked away. She left you standing in the hallway.

"Wait how does she know so much about Momo?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This was actually supposed to be a shorter smut (2,000-ish words) but I got carried away with the story which caused me to delay it.

Not sure if anyone caught it so I'll say it. In the beginning Y/N said "I'm never sleeping on the floor again" but ended up sleeping on the floor again. I just thought it was funny.

-

Unfortunately this wasn't a 20 chapter series. (I really wanted it to, but there's no way I would fit smut in every chapter.)

[iridescent-flowers]

Heating Up (Ao3 Repost)

Diavolo x GN!Reader/MC

CONTENT WARNING: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | sex, aphrodisiacs, oral, breeding, creampie

Word Count: 3,854 words

Summary:

[Diavolo x GN!MC] After mistaking a unique brand of Golden Hellfire Newt Syrup for human world whiskey, Diavolo falls sick and you help him feel better.

[✨Likes, Comments & Reblogs are supper appreciated!✨]

Note: This is a repost from Ao3. Please feel free to leave kudos, comment or read there if you're more of an Ao3 type of person ❤️

AGAIN IF YOU'RE UNDERAGED PLEASE CLICK OR SCROLL AWAY. If else, the fic is under this cut! Enjoy!

It’s been a few days since you visited Diavolo, but oddly enough, he hasn’t made the effort in contacting you. In fact, you were worried because you hadn’t seen him in RAD that much, and you would only catch glimpses of him before he vanished. The last time you saw him was when he invited you over to the palace to share a bottle of human world whiskey, something Barbatos brought him as a present from his ongoing 2-week stay in the human world. Even Lucifer— his confidant— had yet to hear from him in the past few days. Understandably, he might not tend to his phone due to the stacks of paperwork he must prioritize. Still, there’s something off-putting about this silence since he’d often relay his exhaustion to you, even apologizing to you about how much work needs to be done before he could see you.

Ultimately, you decided to visit the Demon Lord’s castle to do a quick check-up. A selfless and innocent choice, yet it was one that would lead you to some messy consequences in a few moments time. Entering the castle, you noticed that it's a lot quieter than usual. When you called out for some presence, you would only receive your own echoes in response. While Diavolo’s home is well known as a large estate, this was, perhaps, the first time you've felt its silence, and it brought concern to your mind.

You left him a text saying you were coming in to check on him, but it seems he hasn't even read or received the message.

As you made your way to Diavolo's room, you noticed that a very faint sound of moans could be heard from the hall entrance. So faint that if you weren’t paying attention, you might’ve just missed the sound.

Feeling uneasy, you make your way to his room and slowly open the door. Peeping through the side, you were already expecting to see him.

But instead, the room was empty. The curtains to his bedroom window, which always opened itself to the view of the Devildom, were closed. His lights were dimmed as well. You could only scratch your head in confusion at how unusual the scenario felt. Was Diavolo here… at all?

You knew the moans came from here, though, so was he hiding? You called out for your lover's name, no response.

You decided to investigate the room for a while, just to see if there would be clues to where he was at the moment. That's when your eyes landed on the bottle of whiskey you shared with Diavolo a few days back. You remembered how you drank lightly because you had some leftover paperwork to go through. Diavolo, on the other hand, decided he would drink it while working since human drinks didn’t affect him. It seemed he didn’t live up to that decision given that the bottle was still relatively full. Only portions of what you both drank that day were drained from it.

It was odd enough for you to pick up the whiskey and read about its contents. Your heart would drop upon turning the back label.

While it appeared to be whiskey, you realized that you both made the error of drinking a special brand of Golden Hellfire Newt Syrup. While it didn’t have any effect on you, you were sure it would affect him. The thought of his unwellness combined with his disappearance made you feel uneasy.

Before you could call out his name, you felt a pair of arms pull you into a tight yet warm embrace. You were startled, but instead of jumping or fleeing, you gasped with a sense of relief and delight knowing it was just Diavolo.

“My love, what are you doing? You shouldn’t be here.”

Still in a bit of shock, you let out the first thing that came into your mind.

“Dia, you scared me for a second there.”

When he let out a shaky laugh, you felt something was off... no… you knew it. You felt cold droplets fall on your chest and shoulders. He must've gotten out of a bath just recently. He coughed awkwardly before shying away from his actions.

You turned around to look at his face, his eyes glinting with something you couldn't figure out yet. Being the ever caring person you are, you began to feel his face and neck for any sign of a fever. You understood that even with a deceitful smile, he couldn't fool you when it came to hiding illness.

He let out a soft yet unintelligible sound in response to your hands touching his skin.

“What are you doing?” He asked, a bit confused.

“Feeling your face for a fever, duh. How are you feeling? How come you haven't talked to me or Lucifer in the past days? We worried deeply about you. Lucifer's holed up with work though, so I volunteered to see you instead.”

Your hands cupped his face, squishing his cheeks slightly. You were clueless to the chills being sent down his spine. You focused on how Diavolo let out a laugh while placing his hands on top of yours. He moved to pull them away from his face, then peppered kisses from the palm of your hands to the veins of your wrist.

“Does that answer your question?”

You were about to retort something in response. But then, you realize how long he might have spent trying to stave off the effects of the syrup. It seems that, like Lucifer, Diavolo prefers to hide how affected he is by the substance. He does well to do so. He's not acting any differently than usual, if he wants to be loving, he showers you with affection, and it often happens in the spur of the moment, especially when you two are in private spaces. His actions were normal, as if he was holding back.

You began to recall the properties of the syrup. The only way to neutralize the effects is to wait it out… you didn't have a pact with Diavolo to begin with, which makes it even more worrisome that he ended up drinking it. But as off-putting as he is today, he seemed fine. No fever, nothing. Perhaps the effects have died down already, but you need to be alert and catch him off guard. Knowing how Diavolo was, he’d want to tough it alone, behind closed doors.

“…Does Barbatos know about your situation?” You moved to caressed his arms as a reflex, watching as he ever so slightly flinched at your touch.

“I know you and I accidentally drank something with Golden Hellfire Newt Syrup the day I visited you here. So… don’t lie to me.” You purse your lips together to figure out what else to say, because half of your mind is filling in with the atmospheric tension.

“Are you sure you're alright?”

As soon as he nodded, he held you tightly and nuzzled his face into your neck. Your nerves tingle with the sensation of his warm breaths. However, they seem to gradually become heavier as time passes.

“MC… I'm sorry… I should've asked for help, but I didn't want to worry you all.” Diavolo said, “I informed Barbatos just today, but it may take him a while to return and aid me.”

You felt him grind against your body, your heart leaped when you felt the contagious aura of his deep seated lust. The thin fabric of his towel barely formed any barrier that could hide his excitement.

Your hands feel his body as they move up from his arms to his chest.

“I missed you Dia, is it weird to say that?” Your voice wavered slightly as your mind ran with excitement. You were trying your best to keep calm for Diavolo's sake. You didn't want him to feel as though he was being made fun of.

Diavolo simply smiled, “not at all, with how little time we always have together… I’ve missed you too… maybe even more…”

You placed a hand on Diavolo's hair, that's when he let out a low hum. You leaned outward even more so that Diavolo had easier access to your neck. You hoped he took it as a sign to keep going, and he did. You heard a deep chuckle as he kissed and sucked on the skin in your neck.

“Your skin is so supple… so smooth…”

Diavolo let out a groan, it seemed to be a mix of pain and need. Before pulling away, you whined at the sudden lack of warmth.

He coughed awkwardly and shook his head.

“As much as I miss you, you need to go back to the House of Lamentation.”

“What?! Dia…”

“If we do this right now, I might hurt you.” His voice was quiet and he turned his face away, like he wasn’t allowed to look at you or your eyes.

“Diavolo, you're obviously in pain. And besides…” You placed a finger on his chin, turning his sight back at you.

“I trust you, and I know that you'd never hurt me.” You leaped onto him, and he caught you by your waist. You tiptoed to the height of his neck, drawing a small streak against his neck with your tongue. The action was highly unexpected from Diavolo's end. He let out a moan unguarded, and you let out a small laugh.

“Please let me take care of you.”

Diavolo couldn't fight the blush from rising to his cheeks. He closed his eyes, trying his hardest to compose himself.

“The way you want to spoil me feels like a blessing… I’m truthfully glad to hear you say that.”

The moment he said that, he swiftly hoisted you upwards, moving his hands from your waist to your thighs, and gripping you tightly as he pulled in for a deep kiss. You held onto him, trying to match his strong hold on you, not wanting to let him go.

You felt your own heat starting to take form.

“Please bear with me, my love. You don't know how hard this week has been for me.”

He spoke in between kisses, before switching from your lips to your neck. He was less gentle compared to a while ago. He was more hungry than he was needy.

“Vent it out on me, inside of me.” You pleaded as you gave him a deep and passionate kiss. You felt your own heat starting to take form. Like his was contagious and quickly spreading to you as he runs your fingers through your body.

In such a quick speed, Diavolo carried you to his bed, more droplets falling from the tips of his hair onto newly exposed skin each time you took off a piece of fabric.

And there you both were, taking in each other’s view. His true form towered over you and his eyes glowed with love and need. Your own body felt excited yet vulnerable to his eyes.

You kissed each other to quickly sate all the desire you can. His kisses overpowered your own, until he was the one drawing out your breath each time your lips touched. He moved downward, meeting your pooling heat with his lips kissing and sucking your most sensitive spot.

He was confident in knowing what you wanted, the right place, pressure, and pace. His simple touch could drive you crazy. In fact, with the very movement of his tongue, you knew you were close. His hands held you down tightly, as you tried to squirm and avoid your own climax.

This can’t be about me, you thought to yourself. You needed to assert some level of dominance so that he wasn’t focused on pleasuring you. Even if Diavolo was stronger than you, and even if you were on the brink of an orgasm, you still had to turn the tables.

With the aid of a spell, you bound Diavolo’s hands together tightly.

“Sorry, Dia… but you should be letting me help you, remember?”

You watched as a smirk sneaked onto Diavolo’s face. He’s now watching you go down on him.

You started by kissing and licking the head of his cock, right before taking as much as your mouth could fit or handle. He would try to thrust upwards, but with whatever restraint he had left in him.

“MC…” he groaned “…p-please be careful…” you could only moan in response as you bobbed your head up and down, pleasing him with the friction of your lips against his size. Try as you might, you couldn’t fit him all in, so you rubbed him with your free hand.

You knew that, at this point, he would be grabbing your hair to either pull you away or thrust deeper, it satisfied you a little that he seemed so subdued being bound together in this way.

“I’m going to put you inside me.” You said, watching as he nodded and gave you a gentle kiss on the lips, maybe half of it was for encouragement since it’s not so often you topped him like this.

He looked down at the place that connected you to him, his eyes fluttering closed, listening to your stifled moan as his cock entered you. You were going at a slow pace until you took all of him inside.

He was struggling to be patient, that much you could tell. He took your left breast in his mouth and soothed your back with his hands. You feel it as his hands move down to your hips, they would tighten slightly, as if trying to guide your movement.

Your breath dwindled slightly as you leaned closer, you wanted to leave your own marks on him, in the very same places he always does. You decorated kisses onto his neck down to his chest, an attempt to claim him as your own the way he had every night he spent with you.

But as soon as you decide to play with the lobe of his ears, he felt something inside of him shift. Then, in an inhuman level of speed, he grabbed your waist and flipped the two of you over, he was on top of you once again.

“The binding spell…” it broke. He’d broken it, leaving you dumbfounded. But then again, you should expect this much from a demon lord.

“Sorry… I couldn’t wait anymore. Please tell me if it hurts you, okay?” Diavolo holds your legs upward and begins to enter, making sure he hits the right spot as he rammed into you with such speed. Unprepared for the sensation, you began to moan uncontrollably, digging your nails into his skin as you embraced him.

“Lord Diavolo!” You exclaimed unintentionally. The pleasure and shock made this feeling more intense, and it made matters worse when he decided to stroke your sweet spot with his fingers.

He’d only laugh in response to the incoherent words that you try to form, only to come out as broken moans of indescribable euphoria.

You came right after he decided to move his fingers faster, your own want spilling out. You immediately move a hand to cover where it came from. But Diavolo switched your place again so that you were on fours as he thrusted from behind. He placed his fingers onto you once more, all you could do is moan, any movement could make the pleasure worse.

“Diavolo, wait! I just came, please!” You whined as he thrusted into you. He knew he could hit your inner sweet spot in this position, oh how he loved to drive you crazy.

And with the syrup in full effect, he wanted your mind to break the same way he’s losing his own sanity to it all.

The weeks of intense emotions, having to hide from you every time he smelled your cologne or heard you a mile away. It was so much he couldn’t bear it.

Even as he heard you, he wanted to hide and protect you, but he couldn’t. You wouldn’t let him anyways. And now, you’re here. Being turned into his own personal fleshlight.

“Please bear with me MC, I’ve had to masturbate to the thought of fucking you as hard as this for days…”

“Use me as you like Dia… I want you to feel good with me…” Your legs shook as you spoke, feeling for a second orgasm on the rise. Diavolo pulled your body upward so that he was grinding against you, his tongue tracing your skin before letting it dance with yours.

Your hands balled into tight fists, not sure how to react to this level of intensity. You could only hope that your brain wouldn’t melt from how sensitive you felt right now.

“Diavolo… please.. I’m so close…” you felt the movement of his hand return to its favorite part on your body before it begins to quicken.

“Say it again… tell me how badly you want to cum for me…” He thrusted himself deeper into you, feeling the tightening sensation of your insides as he does. He lets out a moan with each thrust.

“I want to cum so badly please… I’m so close Diavolo… please keep going… I’ll cum…”

“Oh fuck… I’m cumming…” you repeatedly chanted as your orgasm surges through you. Diavolo follows quickly and you feel as his liquid fills you up. He twitched slightly and his hips were jerking, as if trying to release more of his cum into you.

All you could do at the time was let out a cry as your essence fell onto the sheets together with the rest of your body. The pleasure continues into you like electrifying shockwaves, even after it’s done you are still trying to catch your breath, and regain some level of control.

Then, you begin to feel the weight of his body leaning back into yours, and his hard-on aligning with your entrance once again.

“Not yet, love. Please hold on a little longer.”

From there on, you knew he was going to stretch out the definition of “a little longer,” but it never bothered you. Still, you couldn't detail how many times both came, or how many rounds it has been since you started. You couldn't even tell if it was already nighttime or the next day. The pleasure seemed endless, to such an extent that you felt that your mind might have broken at that point. All you could think of is the torment between wanting more or stopping before you broke completely.

By the last round, you tried hard to fight your sleepiness because every time your skin connected was so precious to you. This time together is fueled with life and irreplaceable. But no matter how much you want to stay awake, it is as if the pleasures were luring you into a deep sleep. At this point, it perhaps took milliseconds, after Diavolo came for a final time, for you to pass out in exhaustion.

You realized two things after you woke up: First, you weren’t in your own bed. Rather, you were in Diavolo’s room. And second, you may not have been able to finish with him because of your exhaustion.

“…The liquor.” you recalled out loud. You feel startled realizing that your voice has gone. It was now only a whisper, else it would sound raspy. With what strength your body had left, you turned to see if Diavolo was beside you. And there he was, passed out beside you. Perhaps it was an exhausting experience for the both of you, especially you.

You lifted the sheets to see if he managed to calm down. You mentally hoped he would, otherwise you might have to go for another set of rounds for the morning. Normally, you wouldn’t mind it. But considering how inhumane sex could be with the future King of The Devildom, you might be immobile for a little while.

Before your brain could think up any other wild scenarios, you noticed that he had relaxed. You let out a sigh of relief, at least you and your beloved can take a bit of a breather now.

Maybe it was because your brain was fully awake at this point, but you suddenly recalled everything that happened last night. Your hand searched for the places he touched you. Every touch, every look, bite, and kiss… for an exhausting experience your heart felt quite giddy about it. You had no idea Diavolo could be so unhinged. But maybe it was the syrup talking.

You are snatched away from your thoughts when you feel Diavolo’s arm pull you closer to him, and his eyes land on you.

“My MC… were you longing for me?” He teased, his voice seems rough from sleep. He must’ve said that because he caught you looking under the sheets.

“How are you feeling?” You said putting up a palm against his forehead. His fever went down, that’s the most important part.

Diavolo grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from his forehead. He reached out with his hand to trace the hickeys he left the day before. A pleasant chill moved down your spine.

“I should be the one asking you that. I must’ve exhausted you yesterday. Even your voice seems to be giving out.” He smirked a little to himself as he mentioned your voice.

You blushed, not knowing how to respond at first. You didn’t think he’d be open to talk about what happened yesterday, yet here he is doing the opposite of what you thought.

“You… I’m fine… I… enjoyed you being rough anyways.” You covered your face to hide your embarrassment, but you watched as Diavolo reacted like a puppy wagging its tail.

“You really mean that MC?”

“Y-yes. But please don’t drink weird fluids without checking the label again. It’s like the pudding incident all over again. It could be dangerous. A-also I’d rather not fuck like our lives depended on it.”

“Mm… the difference is that you were the one that was dangerous to be close to at that time.”

“You…” he cuts you off with a kiss.

“Shh… What do you say we have breakfast together as an apology?”

You nod, shooting upwards from the bed… bad idea. As soon as you stood up, you dropped to your legs. Seeing this, Diavolo rushed to your side and carried you in his arms. He chuckled awkwardly.

“Sorry… Was I really that rough yesterday?”

You looked away in response. You felt the heat on your cheeks rising at the situation that was currently unfolding. Diavolo just smiled, a smile full of love and infatuation for you.

“Let me pamper you for today. I’ll help you bathe and we can have breakfast together.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around him and kissing his lips.

“Thank you.”

Diavolo touches the part your lips touched, a blush dusts his cheeks and he coughs his throat.

“And maybe, if you're feeling up to it, we can go for one more round?”

You smack him playfully and he laughs, planting a kiss onto your forehead.

“Of course I’m only joking, my dear.”

[feyascorner]

So might have noticed i have read all your fics and I absolutely love them all!

If your open to taking this request for a fic, i would love like 4 times astarion was jealous and 1 time you were! (I dont know if your familiar with the prompt). Tav sleeping with someone before they get together (act 1) he’s catching feelings! After relationship is established: Act 2 Halsin showing his interest (whether its reciprocated is up to you!). Act3 Shar’s caress, the owner talking about Tav’s interest and drow twins!

Finally, Tav being jealous! Astarion fully enjoying it!

Or just anything with jealous astarion i would LIVE for! Love your work either way 😆

a/n. THEYRE SO CUTE IM IN TEARS I LOVE JEALOUS ASTARION/TAV

also this is not proofread unfortunately, and I'm not 100% if i did this right but we rock and roll!!!1

As much as Astarion boasts (and resents) his familiarity with seduction, you're an anomaly he's yet to understand despite his centuries of experience.

Never once in his courtship, even when he'd been alive, had he felt so tested that he was jealous, over someone. Not really, anyway. Sure there were bits of bitter feelings here and there, but most were trivial and about something involved in the relationship, not the person themselves.

He's counted four times since the two of you met, where he had to resort to his better judgment to avoid resorting to pettiness. The first one, was out of necessity--so much so that he didn't even realize what it was at first.

He had watched you snuggle up to Shadowheart of all people, just when he thought he'd finally manipulated enough to have you wrapped around his finger. Instead, he had to hear you laugh as you let the cleric lead you to a nearby lake, making him question if somehow, he'd gotten rusty. Especially when the rival in question was clearly too busy having a religious crisis to properly court you. Sure, you technically didn't belong to him, nor did he belong to you at the time, but he went to sleep feeling oddly irritated. He made sure to flirt with you even more, apparently, the next morning.

The second time, he had accepted the strange feeling in his chest whenever he saw you. And Gods he should have done it earlier. He made sure to show plenty of public affection, kissing your cheek or hand randomly as you and your companions explored the shadow-cursed lands. He got a mouthful from Lae'zel a few times, but he couldn't care less. And just when he believed he'd eliminated any potential rivals, the damned druid suggested that you had feelings for him. Here, he felt that same churning feeling he had weeks ago at camp, and found it was one that he didn't long for. He wouldn't have blamed you if you'd considered it--especially since the two of you stopped being physically intimate after his confession. But he could deny how much he hated this feeling. Pretending he hadn't heard, waited for you to approach him that night. When you reassured him you'd said no, he could breathe again.

The last time was weeks later, at Sharess' Caress, where the two of you were approached by the drow twins. And when he'd confessed he wasn't ready to become intimate again, as much as it scared him, you only smiled at him and nodded. That cursed warmth he felt from such a simple act of kindness would follow him to the end of his days. But he hadn't had enough time to revel in it, because the drow twins assured you only you would be enough, even if he wasn't a part of it. The moment you refused, he was already dragging you out of the room, cursing the twins under his breath.

But for the first time, he thinks you're the one experiencing that dreadful feeling of insecurity.

"Your measurements are perfect for this new selection that just came in! Here, let me just check if the rest would fit."

He'd thought little of the harmless touches of the tailor, but as he notices your expression through the reflection of one of the mirrors, he thinks differently. Your lips are pursed, eyes following the tailor's movements like a hawk as you tighten the arms crossed over your chest. Astarion himself is no stranger to touch, especially to innocent ones like this, but if your body language means anything, the sentiments are not mutual.

The tailor reaches up to measure his arm span, inevitably bring their face a little to close to his neck. He just tilts away, nodding mindlessly at what the tailor is saying, but his attention is fully on you. You're fidgeting, and your anxiousness is impossibly obvious to him, but the more mischievous part of him stops him from doing anything about it. Instead, he revels in it.

"Did you get my inside leg?" he asks the tailor, grinning widely. "I think you might have to redo it. I was leaning a bit."

The tailor agrees though all he sees is a nod of a head and a voice in his ear going right through the other. He observes as your face falls, and just as the tailor crouches down and leans close, you're immediately across the room at record-speed, hand latching over the tailor's wrist.

Astarion barely manages to hold in his laugh. His smile, however, is another story.

"I'll do it," you mumble to the tailor. They look to you and back up to Astarion before seemingly realizing what's going on, nodding.

"Very well."

He never thought you could look even more alluring than he already finds you, but the way your jaw clenches and your brows furrow makes him think otherwise. You lean down and take the measurements as needed, stomping on his foot in the process.

He snorts.

Once the tailor leaves for the stock room, he finds you sighing. "You did that on purpose."

It's not a question. He laughs, and while he could just apologize, he takes your hand in his, tilting your head with the other so you'd look at him. He might even consider the glare you give him as cute.

"Jealous, are you?"

"What do you think?"

"I was starting to think you weren't capable of jealousy."

"Why not?" you say, feeling his thumb rubs the top of your hand. "I've been plenty jealous before."

At this, he raises a brow. "I'd surely remember that."

"When we first met," you recall. "You flirted with practically everyone in camp. Saying you wanted to drink from Wyll, or something like that."

"You must know that I was--"

"I know what it was," you roll your eyes. "Not at the time though, and I thought you'd lost interest in me."

His jaw falls agape. "You're jesting."

"Why do you think I started flirting with other people? I figured you didn't like me as much as I liked you, so I moved on. Tried, at least."

"Is that what your visits to Shadowheart were?"

You scrunch your nose. "Oh Gods, I forgot about that. I'd rather not remember sleeping with one of my closest friends, thanks."

He can't help the grin stretching on his lips, and you notice, feeling yourself smile with him. "You're enjoying this far too much, Astarion."

"Please, tell me the next time you're jealous, so I'll know to keep an eye on you."

"Don't ask such ridiculous things," you retort, feigning annoyance before lifting his palm to your cheek and pressing a kiss to it. He swears his undead heart might've felt it. And just like that, the tailor returns, and you drop your intertwined hands, and he sees you shoot him a warning glare.

Acknowledging he's had enough fun teasing you today, he shrugs, and when the tailor begins showing him an array of outfits, he's not listening. Instead, he toys with the ring behind his back, making sure to commit your expression to his memory.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

hey so it's exactly 10 days after what i added to @cherrychapsticksteve's post, and it hasn't left my brain SO! Murphy, this is for you. i hope enjoy this full version!!!

pairing: steddie | word count: 7,536 | rated: T

-🎸-

Eddie's chest heaves as he sprints farther into the woods.

It’s not the first (and certainly won’t be the last) time he runs from Hawkins’ finest. This time, Hopper and Callahan had busted him after he ran a stop sign (it wasn’t his fault, okay? He had to change the tape and didn’t see the sign or the patrol car stopped at the damn cross street).

The ‘failure to obey traffic signs’ was the least of his problems though, not after his damn lunchbox dropped out of the van when they asked demanded he “Take a step out here, Munson.”, and the last crumbs of the stock he’d gotten from Rick the week before last spilling out at Hopper’s feet.

They get him in cuffs, of course, but the second they turn their backs on him, he fucking books it.

Hands cuffed behind him, wallet chain jangling around his hip in time with the zipper of his jacket hitting the lowest button of his vest, both officers are wheezing way too soon after he starts playing getaway. He twists and spins out of the way of their grasps, but Callahan gets a second wind and nearly catches him, so he bolts; Tears off past his van and into the woods.

He's got some sense of where he's going, they busted him on Cornwallis and it should be a clear cut through the forest past Loch Nora and to the park, but it's even darker as he gets under the treeline. The fading twilight blocked out by the canopy above him.

Still, he took off into the woods on the west side of the street so as long as he keeps going straight, he'll be fine. 

Joke's on him though, nothing about him has been straight since before he came to live with Wayne (since he was born if what his science teacher Mr. Clarke once told him is to be believed), so it's no fuckin' wonder that he's gotten off course.

He dismisses it at first, the gradual incline he's following at more of a jog than a sprint now, but when he hears sirens go off way too close and he finds himself crashing into a meticulously trimmed backyard, it makes sense.

What doesn't make sense is why of all the gallivanting through the woods he'd just done, over and under fallen logs, rocks, through bushes and thickets, that his feet betray him on the half inch concrete lip of patio he hadn't yet slowed himself enough to avoid altogether.

The toe of his sneaker clips the very corner, his feet try to right themselves, but he's already hurtling toward this person's inground pool. 

In the split second he's falling, Eddie's brain does three things almost simultaneously: 1) realizes that whoever's house this is, there's only one light on. an upstairs window that must be a bedroom. Good. Maybe then he can pick himself up after this what-would-have-been super embarrassing fall and get the fuck back out of their yard without them noticing.

2) It has enough sense to turn his body to the left to take the fall onto the concrete on his shoulder instead of his face, though it means he'll definitely be rolling into the pool now. Damn. 

And 3) a simple thought of 'Aw, fuck.'

What his brain didn't account for was the edge of the pool. And that it should have considered its boney housing's downward momentum in the fall.

His temple collides with the edge where plastic meets stone, and Eddie Munson, freshly concussed and all but dead to the world, falls into the water.

-🍦-

The night Steve Harrington officially meets Eddie Munson is like every other.

At home, alone, waiting for it to be a reasonable time to go to bed. 

He’s leaning his desk chair back on two legs, his feet propped up on his mattress, flipping through the new June '85 edition of Vogue that came in the mail that day addressed to Linda Harrington.

Halfway through reading about Eric Stoltz in that new movie Mask (and seriously debating somehow guilting his parents into sending him one of these watches for a late graduation gift because shit that's a nice watch), he hears a splash from outside his window.

The sound makes him jump from how unexpected it is, and he would've for sure tumbled ass backwards off his chair if the wall hadn't been behind him.

He jumps up and yanks open his blinds to look out at the pool below.

There are fresh ripples weaving across the normally still top, and a shadow of something bubbling up from the bottom.

His guts twist up immediately; of course, it could be just some stupid deer, but it could also be any number of insane hell creatures, one of which had once used his pool as it's front door before.

"Shitshitshitshit," Steve snatches up his bat from under the bed and launches himself out his room and down the stairs in record time.

By the time he gets to the edge of the pool, the ripples have dispersed significantly, and the..whatever it is.. at the bottom is releasing bubbles slower than ever.

It takes about a second more for him to parse out the very obviously human shape crumpled under the water and--is that blood?

Steve dives into the water directly across from the bright red smear on the plastic lining.

His eyes burn with the chemicals, all he makes out of the person is a pale face and dark hair.

He hooks an arm under theirs and across their chest, and pushes up from the bottom.

Steve finds a foothold in the shallows and powers over to the stairs as fast as he can, pulling the limp man up onto the concrete.

He gets to work on them immediately, checking for a pulse, checking for breath..nothing.

"Fuck Fuck Fuck!" Steve starts compressions on his chest, counting in his head before sucking in a deep breath, pinching the guy’s nose shut, and sealing his mouth onto the blue lips below him.

Nothing.

"C'mon Munson," Steve starts counting compressions again. "Don't do this to me, man." It surprises him that this is when his brain pairs the pale features and dark denim to Hawkins' Super-Senior, but it's him alright. The vest is a giveaway, though he definitely looks like a completely different person without his bangs hanging over his forehead, or that dumbass grin he has when he's going on some tirade at lunch.

Steve closes his lips over Eddie's once again and this time, it works.

Eddie pitches forward, spewing chunky water all over the ground in front of him.

Steve supports his back as he does, "Shit, man, let it out, let it out." He looks down then, finally realizing Eddie's arms have been completely incapacitated by a pair of cuffs this whole time. 

His breaths are ragged, gagging while he takes in shaky breaths.

He continues to pat Eddie's back, smacking his palm over some demon-looking thing on the back panel of his vest.

"Breathe, Eddie, you got it." The older boy's dazed gaze turns to him then, "You back with me?"

"Harrington?" it comes out a wheeze.

“Hey Munson, you okay?”

Eddie looks around at Steve’s yard, to the pool, “Yeah I—Yeah..” he looks back at Steve, “What happened?”

“You fell into my pool, dude.” he chuckles, “I pulled you out and you weren’t breathing.”

“…huh.”

That pulls another snort out of him. “Yeah, ‘Huh.’.”

Eddie looks off into the woods, then back to his face. “And what happened before that?”

Steve pulls lightly on the cuffs. “I was hoping you could tell me that.”

“I don’t–I don’t know what..” he glances around, panicked, “I don’t know why I’m in cuffs, I–”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay man. You’re okay.” Steve rubs gently over the same spot he’d been patting, “Let’s get you inside, alright? Get some food maybe?”

Eddie takes a couple more breaths then nods, “Yeah…yeah okay, Harrington.”

He leads Eddie inside after he’s calmed down a bit more, sitting him down on one of the chairs at the breakfast nook and dashing quickly to the laundry room off the kitchen for a towel.

"Eddie, hey, y'gotta stay awake." he says, wrapping him up and giving him a light shake, "I'm gonna make you something to eat soon, but I wanna get you outta your cuffs first. Can you tell me how to get them off?"

"Yea-yeah," Eddie smacks his lips dryly, thinking hard, "Do you have a bobby pin?"

Steve studies him while he quickly searches his brain for where the last time he might've seen one. He's still dazed, still out of it (which is fair, honestly, he almost died after all), and is starting to shiver despite the towel.

He goes to the sink and pours a glass of water. "I think my mom has some. Let me help you drink some of this, and we’ll get you upstairs, okay?" he says, turning back to Eddie and keeping his voice soft, as if he'd scare him off if he spoke any louder.

Eddie's face scrunches in confusion, so he continues, "I’ll get you out of those cuffs and into the shower so you can warm up."

He watches Eddie’s expression morph as he registers what was said to him. His eyes go hooded, his cheeks tinge pink, and a smirk tugs at his lips. "Y'wanna get me naked, big boy?"

Steve rolls his eyes, his own cheeks prickling with heat. Eddie's hot okay? Objectively. He doesn't have to be into guys to know that. And flirting is flirting.  Sue him. "Shut up man," he laughs.

He holds the glass to Eddie’s lips and lets him drink as much as he wants, then sets the glass down on the table. He pulls gently on Eddie’s bicep, hooking an arm around the other man's waist, under an arm, and when he finally feels like he's got a good enough hold on him, they head to the steps.

They make their way up the stairs slowly, Eddie mumbling to himself the whole way. Steve hears a grumbled "Naked..", something that sounds like "..Gotta be dreamin',", and his own name, drawn out as if in disbelief "Steeeve Harrington...".

Finally, they make it to the master bedroom and Steve deposits Eddie on the edge of the bed. He immediately falls over onto his right side.

"Ow! Shit.. that fuckin' sucks."

"Your shoulder?" Steve asks, grabbing up a pin from his mother's vanity and turning back to the still damp man on the bed.

"Yeah, I–I must've fallen onto it before I went in." Eddie reasons, "Also, my head hurts."

"I bet," Steve nods, climbing up behind Eddie, "Now, you gotta tell me what to do here, man." he turns the cuffs slightly where he can see the little keyhole. "I've never picked the lock on a pair of cuffs."

"Ya don't say..'' he drawls sarcastically, "Just put the pin in my hand and I'll do it.”

Steve watches Eddie's fingers fiddle with the bobby pin; twisting it every which way while he feels out which side is which, which end of it he wants, prying it open with only a couple fingers, twisting into his hair, the pads of them ghosting along his lips, how they might feel opening him u--

Steve jumps up off the bed, causing Eddie to complain about the movement fucking up his concentration or something.

He ignores him, heading into the ensuite to start the shower.

Holy shit.

What in the actual fuck was that? He shakes his head, hard, willing his brain not to think those thoughts again. He is not gay or anything, everyone has thoughts like that sometimes. Tommy said so.

After starting the water and grabbing a new towel from under the counter, Steve takes a breath and steps back out into the bedroom.

He lets the breath out in relief when he sees Eddie's hands separate from the other, one palm pressed to the left side of his face and his other hanging loosely in front of him off the edge of the bed.

His soggy white Reeboks have also joined him on the bed, feet dangerously close to the pillow.

"Up n’ at 'em, Munson, gotta get you cleaned up." Steve calls, relishing briefly in making Eddie jump in surprise. "Can you get up on your own?"

Eddie groans, but slowly lets his feet drop back down to the floor.

Steve is back on Eddie's side of the bed before he's upright, offering a hand.

His open palm is puzzled at for a few long seconds, then Eddie places his hand in Steve's.

"Okay, up we go," he pulls Eddie to his feet, singing his arm around the other man's waist again and pulling Eddie's arm over his shoulders.

"Dizzy." Eddie complains.

"I know, I know," he soothes in return, "It's this way."

They shuffle into the bathroom and Steve lowers Eddie onto the closed lid of the toilet.

"We gotta get you out of your wet clothes, okay Eds?" The nickname slips through his teeth, but Eddie doesn't seem to mind it, nodding slowly.

Steve kneels in front of him, "Shoes first. Can you get your jacket and vest off for me?"

“Pushy, pushy,” Eddie teases, starting to pull his jacket off, “You really wanna get me naked, don’t you.” 

“Oh yeah. I am just itching for ‘pale, scrawny asshole’.” Steve deadpans in return, unlacing Eddie’s sopping sneakers and placing them in front of the counter.

“Oh now you wanna see my asshole? Buy a guy dinner first, Stevie.”

Steve tries to ignore the soupy feeling in his stomach at the nickname. It’s not even a new one, Tommy’s called him that before too and it never made his guts all squirmy like this.

It’s gotta just be because he and Eddie aren’t friends like he and Tommy had been.

That’s all.

But that’s not all, is it? His brain betrays him again, taking only half a second to imagine going on a date with Eddie, taking him to dinner, a movie, whatever. Taking him home, giving him a kiss goodnight.

The scenario is imagined, but the swirling feeling in his stomach is all too real.

He’s felt this before, the nerves and excitement of taking out a girl he really likes, getting to talk to her, get to know her, the possibility of getting to kiss her (and maybe more) at the end of the night.

But now it’s Eddie Fucking Munson that his gut’s all soupy for. Does he like Eddie? Does he want to Date him?

Steve feels his face heat up, his knees feel wobbly despite being on stable ground, his stomach erupts in butterflies—aw fuck. He likes Eddie. 

“Be careful with this, Harrington, It’s worth more than you’ll ever know.” Miraculously, Eddie managed to get his jacket off with the vest still wrapped around it. He passes the bundle gingerly over to Steve, like it's breakable.

He looks down at the crumpled clothing in his hands; he can see a couple patches that are hand-sewn into the denim, a broken zipper on one of the sleeves of Eddie’s jacket that has been pinned shut, a single button worn shinier than the rest. He believes him.

“I’ll take care of it, promise.” Steve says, placing the bundle up next to the sink gently. “Now, do you need help with the rest?”

Eddie immediately looks like he’s going to say no, but he seems to think better of it. “Uhm, can you help with these?”, he pats his legs, “I’d do it myself, but they’re gonna be a bitch to get off since they’re all wet and I’m still dizzy and don’t really want to bend over to pull off the bottoms but–y’know what just forget it, I’ll—”

Steve interrupts his rambling, “Eddie, it’s fine! I offered, didn't I? Help me out?” he gestures to Eddie’s zipper with his chin and starts to pull at the legs of Eddie’s skinny jeans. “I don’t get it man, why squeeze into these–”

The jingle of Eddie’s belt buckle pulls his focus, his eyes darting up to catch a flash of the buckle being undone. He averts his eyes, but a split second later, his brain registers what he’d seen and his gaze snaps back to it.

“Handcuff buckle? Really?”

“Don’t diss the buckle, Stevie,” Eddie chides, working the buckle loose. It continues to jingle as he works at it.

“How good of a buckle can it be if you can’t even get it undone?” Steve says, getting the second leg of Eddie’s jeans pulled down under his heel.

“It keeps me virtuous.” Eddie grits out, then huffs out a “Finally..” as the mini handcuffs fall open.

It was a bad moment to be done with what he was doing. Because Steve looks up just as Eddie unbuttons his fly and pulls the zipper down.

Steve shoots up off the floor, “Need some help standing up?” He asks, trying to cover for his minor freak-out. Eddie didn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah, thanks,” Eddie takes his hand and pulls himself up, “Don’t let me fall okay? I’m still feelin’ kinda…loopy.”

“Sure, man.”

So Steve stands there, gaze averted politely, as Eddie shimmies his jeans off and pulls his shirt off over his head.

He leaves him to it after that, pointing out the shampoo and soap, where he’d hung the new towel for him, and escapes to go find Eddie some new clothes.

He fishes a pair of black sweats out from one of his drawers, a pair that had been too small for him since sophomore year, and a plain black undershirt. He grabs up his personal favorite hoodie too, a Hawkins High Swim one, and a pair of thick fuzzy Christmas socks Mrs. Henderson had given him this past year.

After agonizing over whether or not to grab a pair of boxers too (he does, a new pair from the back of his top drawer), Steve wanders back into the master bathroom and deposits the pile on Eddie’s vacated seat.

The frosted glass door and added steam cloud Eddie’s form, but Steve can see the vague outline of him, standing just at the edge of where the water must be falling.

“I’m gonna start a quick load of laundry with your things, okay? I left you some stuff on the toilet.”

“‘Kay.” Eddie says softly.

It’s after he’s gathered up Eddie’s chlorine scented clothes that he notices, thinking belatedly to grab the discarded towel off the bed on his way back downstairs, but when he turns to grab it, he’s stopped short by a darkening stain puddled up on one end.

Right where Eddie’s head had been.

It all clicks. The smear of blood on the edge of the pool, Eddie’s complaints of his head hurting, of feeling dizzy and lightheaded.. And now Steve’s left him standing on his own in a hot-ass shower?!

He’s not sure how he heard it, but there’s a soft “Steve?” called out from the bathroom before a loud thump echoes out into the bedroom. 

-🎸-

At first, the shower felt fan-fucking-tastic, but not long after stepping under the hot, wonderfully pressured stream, he’d started feeling (even) more light headed.

He takes a deep breath, and leans on one hand at the back of the shower out of the spray while his head clears enough.

Operating in much the same way through the rest of the shower, he scrubs himself down, washing the chlorine from his skin and hair, wincing slightly when he stretches his shoulder the wrong way and when he scrubs over his right temple. There’s a knot there. Great.

He continues through the motions, taking as deep of breaths as he can, but rinsing the shampoo out of his hair is what does it. His arm stretched up, the more concentrated steam, the tilting back of his head…he bobbles forward out of the stream, hand on the wall again.

Where the hell is Steve? He’s gotta get out of here, gotta turn off the shower..somehow? Eddie’s vision blurs. Fuck.

“I’m gonna start a quick load of laundry with your things, okay? I left you some stuff on the toilet.” Steve says, back in the room as if summoned by Eddie’s desperate thoughts.

‘C’mon coward, ask him for help! He’s right outside the door!’

“‘Kay.”

‘No! Damnit!’ He’ll be fine, he just needs to breathe again, needs to sit down..

“Steve?”

Then he’s out (again).

-

When he comes to (again), he’s back on the bed, under the covers, and still kinda damp. And dressed.

“What the fuck?”

The bedroom door opens then, and he tries to sit up. Shit, why is he so sore?

He blinks away the fuzziness in his eyes only to see Steve goddamn Harrington hovering over him.

Steve pushes him back down onto the pillows. “Oh no nono you don’t. You stay right there.” he chastises.

“What the fuck, what happe—” The memories of the last couple hours roll over him all at once, along with heavy mortification that presses him further into the pillows. He covers his face with his hands, “Jesus H. Christ..did I pass out in the shower?”

“I’m sorry Eddie,” 

“Sorry for what? That I’m a klutz?” he mumbles out from under his palms. “Don’t think that’s your fault, Harrington.”

“You’re not a klutz, dumbass, but you do probably have a concussion…” Steve snarks back, and Eddie feels the mattress sink beside him, “Though I don’t know, maybe you always pass out in the shower?” 

Eddie can’t help but laugh. He scrubs his face a couple more times, then drops his hands “Only in the showers of my own personal saviors.”

He swears Steve’s face tinges pink at that, “Well aren’t I a lucky guy.”

“Well, seeing as how I’m dressed, and last time I remember, I wasn’t..” Steve’s face is blazing red now. “I think you must be, if you got a look at the goods.”

He waggles his eyebrows teasingly when Steve glances up at him, “Shut up man, I didn’t look at your junk any more than I had to.”

Eddie sputters at that, “How much looking is in your definition of ‘had to’?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “You passed out in my shower man, I had to get you out didn’t I? And I’m not about to leave you cold and wet so..I wrapped you up in a towel and got you up here.” he gestures to the bed, “Got you dressed and under the covers so you could sleep somewhat comfy while I made you something to eat.”

Eddie continues to eye him suspiciously, “So you got into my pants and then got them on me? That seems backwards…and sounds kinda fishy, Steven.”

“Oh my god..” Steve throws his head back in exasperation and scrubs his own face with his hands. “I got your pants on while you were still wrapped up in the towel, asshole, now do you want something to eat or not?”

“Wow…the kiss of life, a personal scrubdown (“I didn’t scrub you down!”), and now I get breakfast in bed? If I’m dreamin’, don’t wake me up.”

“Your dreams include getting concussed and passing out?”

Eddie shrugs, “To be fair, there’s usually less clothes and more making out, but I’m holding out hope.” He waggles his eyebrows again and Steve’s face flushes red, scoffing lightly 

“Don’t hold your breath.”

He feigns being shot in the chest, hamming it up and falling limp further into the pillows, “You wound me Steven, am I to be laid up for the rest of my days? Does his royal highness not believe in true love’s kiss?”

“I’ve already kissed you once, dumbass, Is that not enough for you?”

“It musn’t be, for my head and heart still ache!” he continues to bemoan, flailing a hand to his forehead. He’s honestly not quite sure why he’s still keeping up with the bit, painfully straight jocks like Steve don’t normally take well to his dramatics, and he’s not keen on getting punched right now.

But Steve doesn’t punch him. He laughs. 

He laughs and says “How ‘bout you eat something first, and if your head and heart still ache after that, I’ll give you a smooch.” Steve says, standing from the edge of the bed.

Eddie gawks at him, but allows himself to be helped up after his stomach growls loudly not a second later.

Steve walks down the stairs in front of him half-sideways in case he decides to pass out again, then helps him up onto a stool at the Harrington’s long kitchen island.

“I made eggs and toast, but I can get you something else if you like?”

Eddie’s stomach rolls at the thought of eggs, “Just toast, thanks.”

Steve nods, and passes over a plate with plain buttered toast stacked at least a half a loaf tall and a new glass of water. He takes a slice gratefully and munches on it slowly.

Suddenly, something clicks. “Wait, rewind, concussed? You think I might have a concussion?”

“You hit your head didn’t you?” he asks, rounding the counter with a plate of his own and perching on the stool next to him.

“Well yeah, but concussion?”

Steve shrugs, “I mean, I’m not 100 percent sure, but you definitely hit it pretty hard,” he gently pushes the hairs of Eddie’s right temple up and back, touching the fingers of his other hand to the knot he’d felt in the shower earlier.

“Sorry,” he says when Eddie winces, “There was a cut there too, but it wasn’t that deep so I cleaned it up and used a couple butterfly strips on it. Definitely looked worse than it was, but you said you didn’t remember what happened, that your head hurts, you’re dizzy, and I’m guessing the thought of eggs made you nauseous didn’t they?”

Eddie blinks at him once, twice, “I think I have a concussion.”

Steve barks out a laugh, tossing his head back with it. He looks back down at Eddie, still grinning, and time seems to freeze for a long moment.

Steve Harrington’s always been attractive, okay? And Eddie is only a man. The soft swoop of Steve’s hair, messy and flatter than he’s ever seen it in any normal circumstance, but it still looks good, the moles he can see scattered across his neck and arms and legs that Eddie’s always seen a big ol’ ‘KISS HERE’ over each, the relatively new softer smile he’d seen after Hargrove showed up and King Steve was tossed from his throne..

Eddie’s been so gone on Steve for so long already, and now he’s literally saved his life.

He never thought he’d ever want to be the damsel in distress, but now is, and he’s here, and Steve Harrington is his knight in shining armor.

It’s not just the possible concussion making his head swirl.

“Thanks, Steve.” he says, coming back to the present again–was he always this close? Do not look at his lips, Munson, stay focused. “Never thought this’d be how I’d ever be in your house though.”

Steve’s eyes flash to somewhere below his nose (‘Wait.. did he just–’), then he takes his hand away, dropping it back to his lap from where it was all but wrapped around the back of his skull. He didn’t even register that Steve was still holding him (‘Fuck!’).

“How d’ya think you’d ever be here then?” he asks, taking a large bite of runny egg.

“Oh y’know me, peddler of wares for any manner of frivolities my liege may hold.” He attempts to give Steve a bow, but gets dizzy almost as soon as his head tips forward.

Steve’s hands reach out to steady him, but drop when Eddie sits back up. “Yeah I didn’t get any of that.”

“Party favors, Steve-o, pills, ganja..all that fun stuff.” Eddie continues on at Steve’s understanding expression, “That’s what got me cuffed earlier.”

“Ah, so you do remember.”

“For the most part. They wouldn’t’ve even pulled me over if my tape hadn’t ended. I was trying to swap it out and ran a stop sign.”

Steve snorts, “What, did you try to bribe them with drugs?”

“I wish; that'd’ve been a much better story,” Eddie laughs, taking another bite of toast, “My stash fell out at Hopper’s feet when I got outta the van.”

Steve winces, “Bad break, dude. So what, you just decided to run? Why not before they cuffed you?”

“I dunno, man, I just bolted into the trees. Those old men couldn’t’ve caught me if they tried.”

“So you got pulled over, got cuffed for having drugs in your car, evaded capture by running through the woods in the dark, fell into my pool shoulder first,”

“Well I rolled into it, actually. I tripped on your patio, couldn’t catch myself on my hands, obviously, so I fell onto my shoulder first and kinda skidded slash rolled into the pool. Must’ve hit my head then too.”

Steve winces again, “That’s why the “Sorry” earlier.. I saw that blood on the lining and I didn’t even check where you could be bleeding.” He shakes his head in disappointment, “I shouldn’t’ve put you into the shower like that, it’s not good for you. And I know my way around a head injury.” Steve mutters.

“Sportsball will do that to you.” Eddie nods, grabbing a second slice of toast.

“It wasn’t basket–” he sighs, “Nevermind, is there someone you need to call or anything?”

Eddie’s stomach sinks. “Trying to be rid of me already, Harrington?”

Steve waves him off, “Nah. Your clothes are still in the dryer.” he says, standing up and passing around the island to the far counter where a phone book lays open. He picks it up and brings it back to Eddie, “I looked up Munson in case someone would be wondering where you are, but the only Munson here didn’t answer. A Wayne Munson?”

“My uncle,” Eddie explains, “He wouldn’t, not at this time of day. He’s already at the plant for the night.”

“Ah.”

“You can just give me a ride home, we stashed a key on the porch.” he tries to stand, pushing through the dizziness.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re staying right here, Munson. That’s an order.”

Eddie sinks back into his seat.

“Concussions are tricky, you know; You have to check on the person periodically while they sleep to make sure they’re not getting worse. If there’s not going to be anyone at home with you, you’d better stay here.”

“Whatever you say, Doc.” Eddie gives him a two fingered salute, and relishes in the feeling of making Steve smile again. 

-🍦-

It was easier than he thought it'd be to convince Eddie to get back to bed, this time in the guest room across from Steve’s own bedroom.

He’d thought the surprisingly charming weirdo (he was apparently already smitten with) would fight him on it, but he’d followed him back upstairs without complaint after a third slice of toast, though he had gotten a bit woozy about 2/3rds of the way back up.

“What, no smooch? I have to settle for common drugs?” Eddie grumbles as Steve shakes a couple Tylenol into his palm. Steve just rolls his eyes, ignoring him (and the giant swoop of his stomach), “I’ll be up for a little while longer, I have to get your shit outta the dryer and get ready for work tomorrow, so I’ll wake you up before I go to bed and wake you up again in the middle of the night.”

Eddie takes the offered glass of water from him, gulping down the pain meds, “I’m gonna be super grouchy at you, you know.”

Steve smirks at him, “I know, but it’s gotta be done.” He takes back the glass and sets it on the nightstand. 

Eddie’d nodded through a long cracking yawn, smiled, then murmured a light “G’night Stevie.” that made Steve’s heart squeeze.

“‘Night Eds, I’ll see ya in a bit.”

Steve, however, did not get to sleep as easily, lying awake in his room after waking Eddie the first time. 

He set his watch to wake him in three hours to check on Eddie again, and he’d already wasted a good half of it staring at his ceiling and thinking in circles about everything that had happened, everything he’d felt and thought about the town freak sleeping across the hall.

He’d started with gathering all of it up and trying to cram it away to some corner of his head and leave it there, lock it away from even himself, but to no avail. The…he supposed you could call them feelings...for Eddie had grown much too big already for any one of the lock boxes in the back of his brain.

Then he’d tried to rationalize them again like he had at first. Tommy had told him, very confidently, that everyone has gay thoughts sometimes, it’s normal to realize when a guy is just objectively attractive. To realize you’d totally hit that if you had the chance. 

Harrison Ford was the first person Steve’d brought up during that conversation, and Tommy agreed. So that was it, Eddie Munson was just the same as Harrison Ford. He’d definitely sleep with Eddie if there was ever a chance.

And was there? There’d always been rumors about Munson, at least since Steve’d started at Hawkins High, maybe even before, but were they true? How would he even ask that? “Hey Eddie, heard you might be..y’know..into guys and I think I might be too. Do you maybe wanna do something about that? Together?”

Yeah. Not likely.

And Eddie hasn’t looked at him any different than he ever had before, at least not in the handful of times he’s caught the older teen looking at him across the cafeteria or from down the hall.

Should he just..start flirting and hope for the best? What if he doesn’t like it and decks him for it?

Steve scrubs his face again, this is so much easier with girls.

…And that’s another thing, what about girls? He still likes girls. A lot, actually. So is he even allowed to like Eddie? He reasons it’s at least possible to because he does like Eddie. Wants to date him too, but that’s definitely not allowed.

He’s no closer to figuring out what he’s supposed to do when his watch beeps to life again.

Sighing, he throws his covers off, stands up, and sneaks across the hall to Eddie’s room.

“Eddie..hey! Eddie!” Steve whispers, gently shaking him awake. Eddie’s bangs are sticking straight out from his forehead, the rest of his hair fanned out in a mess below his head, his morning breath already starting to form…how can this be so damn attractive?

“Mmm…Hm?” Eddie’s eyes squint against the low light filtering in from the hallway, “Steve?”

“Hey, how are you feeling? Is your head feeling better?”

Eddie sinks back onto his pillow and lets his eyes fall shut again. “Uhm, it hurts, but less than it did earlier.”

“Good, that’s good.” A split moment of bravery comes over him then. “How about your heart?”

“Still aches,” He slurs sleepily in response.

Steve’s bravery and Eddie’s wakefulness fade with each second, so before they’re both gone, Steve leans forward and presses a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “See you in the morning, Eds.”

-🎸-

When Eddie wakes up the final time the next morning, it’s on his own and from an amazing dream involving an epic battle, injuries, and a healing kiss pressed to his forehead by a soft-haired paladin.

He sits up, already significantly less dizzy than he’d been last night, and chugs down the glass of water Steve must’ve left last time he was up here. 

He gets dressed slowly, grabbing his freshly de-chlorinated Iron Maiden tee and trusty black jeans from the neatly folded pile on the nightstand. 

He’s wondering where his jacket and vest are when the sweet smell of breakfast hits him, “Oh, fuck yeah,” he says aloud to himself like a loser.

Eddie pulls on his socks, mismatched but bundled together anyhow, and steps out into the hall.

Steve’s voice filters up the stairs with a mouthwatering buttermilk smell, “Good morning Mr. Munson, I’m sorry if I woke you.”

What time is it anyway? Eddie winces internally on Steve’s behalf if it’s anytime past 8. 

“My name is Steve Harrington, sir, and I—” Steve sighs, “Yes sir, that Harrington.”

Eddie actually winces this time, halfway down the stairs now.

“No, no no, of course not, no trouble at all Mr. Munson, I’m calling because of Eddie.”

Oof, nope, that’s not gonna help ya, Stevie.

“I didn’t—no, not complaining about—no, he got hurt an–”

Eddie can hear Wayne’s voice through the phone now, even from where he’s stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

“I think he might have a concussion and—no, no! I wanted to let you know so you can—”

He decides to save Steve from the Wrath of Wayne and walks around the corner into the kitchen. He holds his hand out for the receiver, and Steve gratefully passes it over, turning back to his waffle maker (a whole-ass waffle maker! Lucky sonofabitch…).

“--And if you don’ tell me righ’ this minute how he got hurt–”

“Calm down, old man, I’m fine. Though I think Steve would’ve denied me waffles if you went on any longer.”

“Theodore Munson, you tell me what’s goin’ on right this second.”

“Whoa! Full name privileges are revoked for you,” He jokes, unable to resist riling up his uncle more. He pulls the cord around the corner and back into the hall, “Wayne, seriously, I’m fine. I just fell into Harrington’s pool a little. No big deal.”

“No big deal huh? Why’n the hell were you concussed in Loch Nora?”

“It’s a long story, but short version is I fell into Harrington’s pool and smacked my head. Steve made sure I was okay, and,” he cringes, “and Hopper might show up on our doorstep in the next couple hours.”

Wayne heaves a long sigh, “Goddammit, boy.”

“It’s all good, I’ll be home soon. I’m gonna pilfer some breakfast and get Steve to drive me home.”

“Wait, wha’happened t’yer van?”

“Okay, bye Wayne! See you soon!”

“Theodore Wayn—”

He breathes a sigh of relief when the phone is back on its cradle.

“Your uncle is scary, man.”

Eddie turns back to Steve’s voice, sitting on the same stool he did last night. Steve passes him a plate with two large golden brown waffles.

“Nah, he’s a big softy. He just worries ‘bout me.” he picks up his fork, digging into the fluffy waffles. They are unfairly good. “Thanks for breakfast, Steve, this is great!”

“You’re welcome man, y’want strawberries?”

They eat quickly, it was later than Eddie thought and Steve has the opening shift at his new-ish job at Starcourt’s ice cream parlor.

“Oh, um.. Ice cream’s good, right?”

Steve grimaces, “I feel like it’ll be very not good after this summer. Plus I have a dumb uniform I have to wear.” he gestures to the backpack he’d grabbed on their way out and tossed in the backseat.

They’re in Steve’s BMW now; his shoes and vest are still kinda damp and he’s gonna have to re-condition his leather jacket after the damn chlorine got to it, but that’s a problem for Future Eddie. “No college for you then? I honestly figured you’d be outta here as soon as you walked across that stage.” 

“I uh, didn’t get in.” Steve says, “Dad decided I should get a job at Scoops to teach me a lesson or something. As if I didn’t feel bad about not living up to his expectations enough already.”

Eddie doesn’t quite know what to say to that, but his silence seems to make Steve nervous. “It’s whatever though, I shouldn’t be dumping this all on you, sorry.”

“Hey man, it’s cool, sounds like King Harrington of Hawkins expected a lot of the Prince.” They’re turning into the Forest Hills trailer park now; Eddie has a fleeting thought about how he’s finally made it to where he’d been heading last night, and something about how a twist of fate (of feet?) diverted him to a whole new course he hadn’t expected, but was glad had happened.

Steve snorts, “Yeah, don’t think he appreciated the Prince parading around pretending to be King prematurely, huh?”

Eddie grins at him as the wheels crunch on the gravel pad outside his home. “A savior and a Prince is better than a King any day.”

He gets a grin in return, then it falls slightly as he glances up at the trailer. “Well, here you are, Munson. It was, uh, weird? But nice to meet you…Officially, anyway” he tacks onto the end, “Just don’t accidentally fall into my pool again.”

“Hmm, I dunno Stevie, it was nice to be pampered.”

Steve’s eyes crinkle up again when he laughs, “How would you rate your visit to Casa Harrington, sir? On a scale of four to five stars?”

“Hmmm.. probably a 4.7 out of five.”

“4.7?! Ouch Eds, that hurts.” Steve clutches a hand to his chest, “After all the waffles and wakeup calls,”

“Hey, I didn’t ask for those wakeup calls.”

“4.7…” he mutters again, shaking his head, “What would’ve given me a full five then?”

“Well you gotta lay off the wakeup calls for starters,” Eddie says, starting to count on his fingers, “More options for toppings at your waffle breakfast bar,”

“You had strawberries and chocolate syrup! What more do you need?!”

Eddie continues on as if he hadn’t heard him. “There was no lifeguard on duty, my towels weren’t warmed up for me, I believe I was promised a True Love’s kiss at some point and never got it, the concierge antagonized my uncle—”

He’s interrupted from his rant by a quick press of something to the corner of his mouth.

He whips his head around and Steve’s face is mere inches from his. There’s a blush high on his cheeks, his eyes are wide (and they’re hazel, how’d he not know that?!), “Did you just—”

“Eddie! Get your ass up here, now.” Wayne calls from the porch, causing them both to jump.

“Better get goin’ Eds.” Steve whispers, swallowing hard.

“Yeah, I–” he glances down at Steve’s lips, he has a few seconds, right? Enough time to—

“Eddie!” Nope.

His eyes stay trained on Steve’s nervous expression while his hand scrambles for the handle. He finally finds it, all but spills out of the car, and closes the door behind him once he’s out fully.

Without any more preamble, Steve backs out of their driveway, and leaves the park.

-🍦-

Steve doesn’t see Eddie for a couple weeks, wasn’t even sure Eddie would want to see him again after that stupid move he pulled, but when he finally does, it’s just before closing on a random Wednesday at Scoops.

“You missed, Harrington!” Eddie calls from the entrance to Scoops. He sounds like he’s out of breath.

“Eddie?”

“You missed!” he walks forward at a normal speed, despite seeming like he’d rushed to get here. He’s also shaking his finger at him, chiding.

“Where’ve you been, man?”

“Had to take care of the whole ‘evading arrest’ thing, but that’s not important. You missed Stevie.”

“Stevie?” he hears Robin mutter in disbelief.

“Missed what? I mean, yeah, I missed you too man, but what—?”

He’s cut off when Eddie finally reaches the counter, grabs his face in both hands, and kisses him square on the mouth.

Robin yelps in surprise, but that is the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. 

Eddie’s lips are chapped, but they slot along Steve’s so easy it makes his head spin.

After forever and no time at all, Eddie pulls back, dropping back to his side of the counter. “There. A real lips to lips kiss. None of that sly cheek shit, Harrington.”

Steve’s still a bit dazed, “Much better than the first one.” He leans closer to Eddie again, lips searching, but he’s held still.

“Whattya mean, ‘the first one’?”

It clears his head a bit, “Uh, the one where I saved your life? Obviously.”

“That doesn’t count!” Eddie’s hands leave his face, and he misses them already.

“It was lips to lips! Isn’t that what you just said?”

“It was CPR, Steven!”

“I can count it as our first kiss if I want to, Edward.” Steve crosses his arms across his chest.

“My name’s not Edwa—”

The long squeal of marker-on-whiteboard cuts him off, and he immediately flushes red.

Oh yeah, Robin…aw fuck.

He turns slowly to the window behind the counter; a single tally mark has been drawn into the left side of Robin’s YOU RULE / YOU SUCK board.

She caps the marker, sets it down, smirks, and says “Congratulations, Dingus.”

this is also on AO3!

tagging a few of the people in the tags of the original who seemed interested in more! hope that's okay!!!

@inthewychelm @tboyeddie @brbsoulnomming @henderdads @ajs624 @sleepy-steve @eddiesdoeeyes @steddie-island @themeanderingty @hammity-hammer @spicysix @steddieasitgoes @willowworkswithwords @farahsamboolents @shares-a-vest @klausinamarink @fortheloveofgodletmein @sharpbutsoft @perseus-notjackson @zombiethingy @tchackdaw @eddiethehunted @smoothiecas @donttellunclesam @allyricas @living-force @xandriumbat @himbosandhardwear @everything-is-the-answer @sidebarre @m-owo-n @warmsole @occasionaloverboy @whoopssteddiefeels @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @extra-transitional @cecil5683 @makeadealwithdean @huymadovan

[theragethatisdesire]

quick bright things - eren jaeger x afab!reader, 18+!!

okay hi. after my many-months writing hiatus, i am offering up this humble creation. welcome to the world of quick bright things, caught somewhere between a fairytale and a shakespeare play and a priceless piece of jewelry. this was inspired by....a lot of things, from midsummer night's dream to saltburn to the secret history to romeo & juliet like, you name it and i've probably crammed it in here. eren is a lot different than i normally write him (or read him, for that matter), i hope you all find him as lovely as i do! this will be 2 parts (for now...), i'm not sure what else to say except i'm happy to be back and i hope you all love part 1 ₊˚⊹♡

pairing: eren jaeger x reader

wc: 10.4k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

cws: alcohol, swearing, smut, fingering, reader has female anatomy, wet dreams, allusions to cannibalism (idk that's a stretch it's more of a metaphor), exhibitionism, cum-eating, creepy stepsiblings, rich assholes, throat-closing amounts of sexual tension, i honestly don't even know what to put here

without further ado...

-

"Last year I abstained / this year I devour / without guilt / which is also an art."

“Now don’t forget: university is for discovery, for adventure.” Your mother tucks the front of your shirt into your skirt, tugs at your collar until it’s sitting prettily against the cliff of your collarbones. It’s not a good fabric, this shirt; it’s cheap and scratches uncomfortably at the summer sunburn still lingering on your chest. “It’s for finding your passions, your life path, yourself…”

“Darling, you’ve been philosophizing since breakfast. You’re going to give the poor girl a conniption.” Your father chuckles lightly, swinging the hammer at the wall of your dormitory and finishing the hanging of one of your many posters over your creaky, lofted bed. The posters are bright and colorful, almost garish in the pristine, ancient light pouring in from the windows. With a slow blink, you realize you’re going to take them down later, that they feel incongruous with the dust particles and the oak furniture.

“It’s alright, really.” You manage a smile of compromise, lips clamped tight to hold the flutter of nerves in your throat at bay. “I think I’ve got it from here.”

There’s an expectedly teary goodbye, a small monologue from your father about how much you’ve grown, and a few reminders from your mother to separate the darks and the lights when you do laundry, to focus on your studies. Just before she slips out behind her husband, she grabs you by the shoulders and presses her lips to the side of your head, kisses a blood-red print into the shell of your ear.

“Don’t forget. Find something.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Whether it started with that conversation or with the buildup that accompanied the thirty-six months of monotonous paper-writing and numb boredom of your first three years at Oxford, you can’t be sure. In truth, maybe your first three years weren’t all that boring, and they only seem so by comparison of everything that came after, but you can’t be entirely sure of that either.

What you can be sure of is that something down the line—between meeting Sasha in that class on Milton and squeezing her hand as the plane landed and the dozens of bottles of champagne you’ve consumed over the last weeks—something led you to this moment, standing in this kitchen somewhere outside Verona with your bare feet against the hot clay tiles, staring at the sharp angle of an unfamiliar, tanned collarbone. 

He’s coated in linen: a half-unbuttoned, burnt-orange drape of a shirt is rolled carefully up around strong forearms, and one large, boyish foot peeks out from his baggy jeans, propped up on its throne upon the opposite knee. A golden cross winks at you from his chest, nestled in the sparsest dusting of chest hair and dripping with the same peach juice that’s sliding down his Adam’s apple, from his strong chin, from the crooked smirk that’s pointed at you like a knife.

You recognize him before he speaks– this must be Eren. Sasha’s mentioned him enough times: the shock of rich, dark hair, the lakewater eyes, the way he leans back in his chair like a king and cocks his head like a trickster. This is Eren, and you tell him so.

“Guilty.” The sun compliments everything about him but his smile, a little too sharp with too much danger behind it. It’s a smile made for moonlight. “And you are?”

A memory surfaces in your mind, a cautionary childhood tale. “You can never let a fairy know your name,” Emma tells you, graver than death, crouched in the bushes beside you, “or they steal you away, and you can never be human again.”

“Well?” Eren says expectantly, head leaning even further to the left. He’s studying you, the baggy linen pants pooling around your toes and ruby-studded ears poking out of a fray of frazzled bedhead. You feel naked, feel a wild urge come over you and wonder how his eyes would glow at you if you were. You shiver, goosebumps raising in the stuffy summer air. When his lips twitch, you realize Eren’s noticed; you feel feverish.

You mumble your name at him, as if it’s something given unwillingly. Waking the espresso machine seems like the right thing to do with your hands, and you’re grateful for the noisy mechanical sounds it provides to shatter the still morning. You bring an absentminded hand to rub over the tip of your ear, feel if it’s grown to a point yet.

“We haven’t met, have we? I feel like if we had, I’d remember.”

God, you wish he’d stop talking.

“Well, do you go to Oxford?”

“Sometimes.” You roll your eyes, and he laughs, little bells and glass shattering. “I’ve been abroad for the last semester. I flew in from Egypt a couple of weeks ago.”

“Hm,” you hum to yourself, choosing a small red cup for your morning coffee. You aren’t sure what to say; the most exotic place you’ve ever visited was a seaside town three hours from your house.

You can hear his newspaper crinkling; the sound of him putting it down betrays his arrival behind you, but you still don’t expect the puff of warm breath over your shoulder. He comes into your space like he belongs there, like there’s never been a door that wasn’t held open for him to stride through. “Are you still asleep?”

Before you can answer, you hear a shriek from down the hallway, and you breathe a little sigh of relief, thanking whatever ancient gods that belong to the hills you’re in for the interruption. Venus springs to mind, and you swat her and her entourage of Graces away from you with a huff.

“You absolute asshole!” Historia comes barreling into the kitchen, dramatic, fluffy dressing robe spilling out into the unrelenting summer heat behind her. You realize that in the three weeks you’ve spent with her, you haven’t once seen her in the actual kitchen, watching the way the breakfast chef’s eyes widen at the sight of her as he hurries by with an armful of eggs.

“Stori!” Eren elegantly catches her best attempt at a tackle with the good grace you assume he does everything with, breaking out into a warm peal of laughter. “Since when do you not love a surprise?”

“Since always.” Historia’s face is scrunched up where she’s buried it into the crook of his neck, forehead red with the effort of squeezing Eren as hard as she can. “You could have at least called, I mean– ugh, I didn’t even get the chance to get your favorite–”

“Relax.” Eren urges her, rubbing soothing circles into the small of her back. He carries them both over to his seat, plopping down and curling her up in his lap like a child. Eren holds his cup of coffee to her lips temptingly, and Historia shoves it away with another scowl. You hide your giggle at her antics behind your espresso, not wanting to remind them of your presence, but enjoying the show all the same. “Brat.”

“Ow,” Historia hisses when he pinches her thigh, expression lightening when she catches sight of something on the wall. “I always forget how pretty the kitchen is here.”

“Where’s your brother?”

“Still getting dressed.” Historia’s blue eyes turn to the frescoed ceiling with an irritated huff. “You know he can’t stand to be seen in his pajamas.”

“That’s because he doesn’t wear any,” Eren remarks with an eye roll of his own. “You could have called to let me know we’d adopted such a pretty houseguest for the summer.”

Your face burns with acknowledgement, and you can feel your toes curling into the clay bricks of the floor hard enough to scrape the tip of your pinky. Eren seems satisfied at your bewilderment, letting his eyes drag over your hardly-covered chest lazy as a wandering mouth.

“Why would anyone wear pajamas under those heavy duvets? It’s almost thirty-two degrees out.” Armin breezes in in a feigned display of nonchalance, but you can see the way his eyes skim over Eren like a ship narrowly avoiding an iceberg. The Titanic was inevitable, and so is the gravity of Eren sitting golden on the other side of the room.

“You look good, Min.” Eren squints his eyes at Armin’s shirt, nearly identical to his own. “Where’d you get that?”

“You left it last summer,” Historia hums, tucking her head under Eren’s chin and nuzzling into his chest more completely. Armin makes a soft snort of irritation, grabbing for a fig in the bowl of fruit on the counter and beginning to rummage through the cabinet drawers.

“Do you want half a fig?” Armin’s cool gaze slides to you, and you shake your head, feeling a little underwater as two lifelong relationships unfurl in front of you, your mind still fuzzy from last night’s wine. “Historia?”

Historia says no as Eren says yes, and Armin makes his sound of annoyance again before continuing his rummaging, muttering about the inconvenience of finding a knife.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” Sasha, still disheveled with sleep and grinning bright as Christmas morning, pops her head around the doorway. “Shouldn’t you be overseeing the construction of your pyramid?”

“I’m not dead, Sasha,” Eren laughs—it really is distracting when he does that—pulling Sasha onto his other knee, ignoring Historia’s grumbles of discontent. The NYU Men’s Lacrosse t-shirt that Sasha cropped too short rides up, exposing the swell of her breast, but no one acknowledges it. Eren’s hand tucks in snugly around the curve of her hip, easy and natural, and you wonder if his fingers have ever itched to travel up under the hem of her tiny sleep shorts.

“Not dead yet.” Historia glares up at him venomously, reluctantly making room for Sasha to pile onto Eren and smother his face with kisses. Sasha pulls away from him suddenly and frowns.

“Peaches?”

“Where are the knives in this fucking kitchen?” Armin’s growl of frustration is loud enough to make you jump, and Sasha giggles at you.

“Jesus, Armin, you’re going to kill her, and it’s not even noon.” Sasha slips off of Eren’s knee, practically bouncing over to where Armin’s viciously jiggling a locked drawer. She slides open the drawer next to him and draws a long, wide knife from it, passing it to him with the blade extended and her eyes on you. “Did you meet Eren?”

“Careful of his hand!” Historia squeals, shooting an arm out towards Armin as if she can deflect the tip of the blade from across the room.

“It’s fine, Stor.” Armin’s voice floats across his nearly-bare shoulder, mild and careless as it grazes the collar of the too-big button down sliding off of his slim frame.

“That knife’s a little big for a fig, Sasha.” Eren stands, placing Historia on the table and pinching her cheek when she scowls at him.

“There’s no such thing as a too-big knife– listen to me. Did you meet Eren?” Sasha’s fingers are gripping into the flesh of your arm– hard. Your eyes widen in surprise at the urgency in her eyes, like if you haven’t been introduced to Eren, there’s grave danger afoot.

“We met.” It happens quickly and easily, the slide of his heavy arm around your shoulders. You can feel your body tense under the lazy weight of him, big hand wrapped around you like it belongs there. “I don’t think she’s particularly fond of me.”

Eren shoots you a wink that you’re sure is intended to mean something, a reference to an inside joke that you have yet to establish, maybe.

“I didn’t say that,” you say in your own defense, wanting to yank Sasha to the side and demand to know why she hadn’t warned you that Cupid himself was going to greet you in the kitchen this morning. Armin slices the fig neatly in half, a strangely practiced motion performed by small, soft hands. He offers it to you again insistently, and frowns when you shake your head.

“I said I wanted it, ‘Min,” Eren says with a hint of red to his words, snatching the halved fig from Armin’s hand and biting into it voraciously, little pieces of the flesh spattered around the corner of his mouth.

“You’re such a brute,” Armin scoffs, picking the meat of his half out gingerly with an oyster fork that you don’t remember him grabbing from the drawer.

“Why don’t you like Eren?” Sasha pouts at you, grabbing the hand that’s squashed between yours and Eren’s hips. Your palm feels hot against her fingers.

“I said I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t say much of anything, to be fair.” Eren’s got the fig pressed to his mouth, digging his teeth and tongue around in the husk of it obscenely enough to make your cheeks warm. Being so close to him is filthy, that cross around his neck is looking you straight in the eye to make sure you feel it. 

“Eren’s always a pest,” Historia provides from her perch on the kitchen table, picking at her perfectly manicured toenails, “why would she like him?”

“You like him plenty,” Armin says, not looking at her. It’s not the first time that’s been brought up, if Historia’s answering sneer is anything to go by.

“You’ll love him if you give him a chance.” Sasha smiles hopefully at you, nodding.

“Yeah,” Eren grins down at you, teeth colored with fig, “give me a chance.”

“Eren, you’re going to scare her off,” Armin says with a roll of his eyes, peering around Eren’s broad shoulders to look you up and down. The way his eyes drag over you makes you feel like there might be a stab wound somewhere on your person that you don’t know about yet, the adrenaline of the moment keeping you numb.

“Back off her, Eren,” Historia echoes, “she’s fun, I don’t want you to make her leave.”

“She’s not going to leave.” Eren looks directly at you as he says it, something in his smile growing imperceptibly darker. A dare. How much will you let me get away with?

You stare and stare at him, ignoring the continued bickering of Armin and Historia in the background. He’s golden and blood-red, oil smeared on his forehead and a crown of thorns nestled in his dark thatch of hair if you look close enough. If you’re not imagining it, his hand might be tightening around your shoulder, maybe he’ll leave a purple bruise on it.

“Of course not,” Sasha interrupts your thoughts, thumbing at your cheek affectionately, “she belongs here. With us.”

“She’s our little fairy,” Historia giggles dreamily, referencing the long-winded fairy tales you drunkenly make up every night, casting each other as heroines and knights and dragons.

“Right,” Eren agrees, not breaking your gaze, “our little fairy.”

The only thing that comes to mind is your childhood friend, Emma, looking on at you sadly with her muddy toes, watching the wings sprout from your back.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Days lug themselves by, barefooted and dragging their heels, and most of the time, even the monotonous rise and fall of the sun doesn’t help to differentiate one calendar block from the next. Like a bat, or maybe a slinky, silvery fish in an underwater cave, you rely on your other senses to track the passage of time.

For example, today, you know it’s a Wednesday because Maria, one of the three house chefs, brings fresh peaches up from the co-op down the hill every Wednesday. Sasha’s spent the last thirty minutes hand feeding you peach flesh as you lounge by the pool, insisting that you suck her fingers clean of juice and feeding you little sips of champagne each time you sober up enough to tell her that that’s lewd. Historia swats at you and giggles at the smacking and slurping sounds you make around Sasha’s fingers, oiled-up palm landing on oiled-up hip with a wet slap; Armin admonishes her quietly from his seat beside her, insisting the girlish noises emanating from the three of you are tearing him from his book. You can feel Eren watching, too– that’s all, though. Always just watching.

You wonder how opaque the lenses of Armin’s sunglasses are, perched haphazardly on your nose, wonder if they’re doing a good job of masking the slow lick of your gaze over Eren’s skin, wonder if you care. Maybe the champagne is finally getting to your head.

“We should go in soon,” Historia sighs, a hand tossed across her forehead. She’s a little movie star, built for the golden age. “It’s so hot.”

“It’s always this hot,” Sasha argues, and you can practically hear the furrow in her brow, not willing to take your eyes off of the trickle of sweat running down Eren’s chest to see it for yourself. You’re really getting the hang of it, this opposite-sense thing. Everything’s upside down here in the heat.

“She’s getting hungry,” Armin supplies, wiping the sweat off his palms to reach up and turn the page of his novel. Brideshead Revisited. A little on the nose, isn’t it?

“I am not!” Historia hates when people point out her appetite, but not really. She kicks up a fuss because it’s “ladylike”, and she’s advised you to do the same.

“You are,” you sigh, really feeling the heat sink into you even with the heavy, lazy movement of lolling your head to face her, “you always get hungry around this time.”

“What time is it, then?”

You don’t reply– you don’t know the answer.

“I think we’re all hungry,” Eren, ever the peacemaker when he can find the time to be so, sits up, letting the shirt that’s been shading his face fall into his lap. Your eyes track its descent– even that seems slow. He says something to you, managing a crooked grin while he squints in the heat of the sun, but you don’t hear it.

“Huh?”

“Everyone except you, anyway,” he repeats himself, reaching over Sasha and smearing his thumb through the peach juice collected on your chin. Eren’s thumb disappears between his pink lips, and when he sucks on it with a satisfied hum, your jaw clenches hard enough to hurt.

“I guess it’s getting close to dinner,” Sasha says regretfully, picking her wristwatch, a priceless Braus family heirloom, up from a puddle of orange juice and tanning oil. “We should probably clean off.”

“I might even shower twice,” Armin rubs a hand over his belly with a grimace, “this tanning oil makes my skin greasy.”

“I feel disgusting,” Historia agrees, sliding red toes into her sandals and standing with a dramatic stretch.

“Filthy,” Eren murmurs in agreement. He’s still staring at you.

“I’ll be in soon. I’m so close to the color I wanted for today– I just need, like, ten more minutes.” You peel down the strip of bathing suit stretched over your hip, showing off the distinct mark of yesterday’s color and today’s tan.

“You’re crazy,” Sasha scoffs, throwing some designer sarong her mother lent her over her shoulder, “I’m melting.”

Armin and Historia pause their bickering over who gets to wear Armin’s Cucinelli belt to dinner—Armin wants it for his trousers, Historia for her maxi dress—just long enough to offer a momentary goodbye, breezing along into the house with Sasha. You settle back into your chair and take a deep breath, letting the sun sink into you just long enough to forget that you’re not alone.

“Open up.”

You’ve been enjoying this game of trading one sense for another, and you keep your eyes shut firmly, letting your jaw fall open and your tongue hang out. A piece of peach, fleshy and dripping with juice, finds its way onto your tongue, pinched too roughly between strong fingers. When you close your lips around the fruit, the fingers stay with it, frozen in their pinched position and forcing you to suck the peach from them, to swallow around them, to run your tongue along them and get as much of the meat as you can. When the fingers withdraw from your lips, you open your eyes and gasp quietly.

Eren’s leaning over you, a solar eclipse that smells like tan skin and sounds like Campari, and in the silhouette of the sunlight, you think he’s smiling.

“You’re still hungry,” he says, a question that’s left its punctuation mark behind. You think of Historia, of the improper shame of revealing your appetite. You dodge.

“I’m never hungry.”

“Never?” Eren crawls over you to kneel between your legs, propping one of your ankles up on his shoulder. The game you started is ripped out of your hands, chess pieces flying into the pool, scattering across the table, knocking over bottles and matchbooks. It’s so silent out here in the sun it hurts, and you almost miss the constant buzzing horseflies of early summer.

“Never.”

“If you’ve never been hungry,” Eren muses, tilting his head so that his cheekbone fits into the sensitive arch of your foot, reaching a hand down to splay it wide on your belly, “you’ve never been full.”

“How do you figure?” Your words come out throaty, waterlogged.

“Can’t have one without the other.” Eren shrugs, turning his head to the side. His lips brush against your heel, your Achilles’, the swirly seashell dangling from your anklet. You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, toes twitching behind his ear. “I don’t believe you, anyway.”

“No?” You try to tilt your head coyly, like your heart’s not clawing and scratching against your throat to get to him. Hungry, indeed.

“You wouldn’t stare like that if you didn’t want to.”

You’re taken aback, but not enough to fall out of the moment– Eren’s lips closing around the knob of your ankle slowly, like the pit of a fruit, make sure of that.

“Didn’t want to what?”

Eren’s hands meet the cushion on either side of your head hard enough to rattle the chair, his long, tanned body stretching over yours. He’s close enough to brush his nose against yours, but you can still see the hazy green of his eyes flicking here and there on your face: from your eyes to your lips to the beauty mark on your cheek. Your poolside lounge feels more like a butcher’s block under your taut spine.

Sasha’s told you about the wolves in these hills, that they howl murder at night, but they’re sleepy and indulgent in the heat of the sun. One of Eren’s canines catches the light and glints at you as he grins.

“Eat yourself sick.” He practically spits it into your mouth, one thigh pressed into where you’re sticky and sinful, and he chuckles under his breath when you shudder under him, feverish in the late-afternoon heat.

Before you can even think of biting back, Eren’s off of you, picking your sandals off of the ground and sliding them gently onto your feet, stopping to run his palm from your ankle to your kneecap with an appraising hum. 

“We should head inside,” he says evenly, offering a hand to pull you to your feet, “I’d hate for us to miss dinner.”

You don’t have anything to say back to him, letting him lace his fingers through yours like lines in a play, interspersing seamlessly with the summer scenery. Eren leads you through the kitchen, waits patiently for you to take your sandals off, and waves you on your way up the stairs, saying he needs a cigarette. As the distance between you grows, your mind grows clearer, and you turn on your heel, calling down to him from the top of the stairs.

“Eren? Eren? Where are you, Eren?”

“Call me something else,” Eren pokes his head around the corner, smoke pouring from the grin on his face, “whatever you want, really. Make your own name for me.”

“You stare at me, too,” you say, tearing through his impishness. Eren cocks his head, unperturbed, smile growing wide as he nods.

“I do.”

“So you’re…” You can’t bring yourself to say it, not where it might echo in the cavernous hallway, where it might take the form of a confession. You scamper down the stairs, nearly sliding on bare feet, almost crashing into Eren when he appears at the foot of the staircase, catching you with two broad palms on either side of your ribcage. You pluck the cigarette from his mouth, stick it between your own teeth, narrow your eyes accusingly, and whisper: “You’re hungry too.”

“For every man hath business and desire, Such it is.” Eren takes the cigarette back, pulling on it and making a clear show of trying to hide a smirk.

“Hamlet?”

“A woman with teeth and a brain,” Eren tilts his head at you, “aren’t you something?”

“Do you always quote Shakespeare when you want to fuck somebody?”

“Only when I want to fuck you.” Eren stubs the cigarette out on the ancient oak of the staircase railing, grins up at you brilliantly, smiles brighter when he notices how obviously flustered you are.

“I need to go take a shower,” you say hurriedly, choking on the remnants of your shame and your confidence as they burn out in your throat, making an attempt to back up the stairs away from him. Eren laughs at your attempted escape, catching you by the wrist and pulling you close to him, close enough to dizzy you on the tendrils of smoke still sticking to him. Your breath stills, your heart slows as Eren wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you together, skin on tacky skin.

“Oh, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” Eren coos to you, mouth moving against your cheekbone. “C’mon, just one bite.”

“He that is proud eats up himself,” you hiss a quote back at him in response, ripping yourself from his grip and scrambling up the stairs, heart pounding and cheeks burning. You can hear a lovesick sigh follow you up to your room, and hope that the slam of the door behind you is enough to keep it from touching you.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

The murky waters of your vision ripple out into clarity, and you’ve found yourself in a forest. You’ve been here before, you recognize the tall, thick trunks and the bed of fallen leaves under your feet. You’ve been coming here since you were a little girl, been wiggling your toes in the greenery since before you could remember. You never come alone.

It appears just as you remembered: a blinding glimmer of light, a flame for a head, and ribbonlike wisps of energy that beckon you like arms, like love. One step towards it, and it disappears, vanishing into nothing with an echo that might be laughter. You think it’s happy to see you.

When it reappears a few feet away, you take your first steps, sighing at the feeling of the wild enveloping you, of the prickling of your skin, kissed by the chill winding through the trees. You wish you could explore this place, so familiar and so strange all at once, but you know you have to keep moving, keep following the lights as they lead you deeper and deeper into the forest. They won’t hurt you; you aren’t sure why that’s true, aren’t sure why you keep moving. You just know better than to stop.

They lead you over a familiar path, winding past a creek, over a bed of flat stones with an ice-cold creek running over them. You never tire here, legs pumping and arms working to push yourself faster. You’ve never caught the lights, and you aren’t sure if you ever will, but again, you know better than to doubt. It feels like hours, feels like minutes, feels like purpose, chasing these lights through the forest, but suddenly, something’s new.

There’s a little chirping sound, almost conversational and too high-pitched for you to understand; you’re not even sure if you recognize the language. It ricochets around the bones in your body, touches something ancient in their marrow. You almost jerk your head to the right to find the source, but you resist, pushing ahead on your path as the lights lead you deeper. You get the feeling that you’ve gone off-script somewhere, that this is a part of the forest you haven’t seen before, but the warmth in your bones shoos your doubts away. You’ve never been this far, but it feels like home.

A growl curls around the shell of your ear, plants fear right in the center of your chest. Your eyes widen at the light before you before it disappears; you frown at the next one, not daring to speak but demanding an answer anyhow. The lights will save you, won’t they?

Shrieks from overhead, guttural, animalistic calls, howls and chatters of excitement; you never presumed to be alone in this forest, but you never presumed to be in danger, either. The lights urge you on, vanishing and regenerating at an alarming rate, your feet drumming against the forest floor faster and faster. A sliver of moonlight begins to glow from the trees a ways off, an indication that there’s a clearing ahead, and you shove the bile in your throat down, swing your arms faster, ignore the frantic fluttering of your pulse in time with the bestial chorus ringing clearer and louder from the trees with each passing second.

You do, against all odds, manage to launch yourself into the clearing, and the moment you feel the soft cushion of moss under your feet, as opposed to the branch-littered, crunchy path of the forest, you nearly stumble to your knees as your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness of the clearing. The grumblings of the woodland entities have quieted, an almost awestruck silence settling in the open space around you.

“There you are.”

Your head snaps up comically fast– “You?”

“Me,” Eren says, that razor-sharp, moonlight smile lighting up his face. He looks…right here, as if the forest is extending a sense of belonging, as if he’s been here longer than the ancient trees themselves. Even the little crown nestled atop his head is fitting: a tangle of brambles and thorns and leaves tucked into his dark locks. Is that a throne under him, that mass of branches and leaves and some silvery metal you can’t place?

His eyes glow in the starlight, illuminated with a certain hunger that you can feel reverberating through your bones. It should be frightening, but it’s enticing. You feel welcome.

“What are you doing here?” Your tongue is slower on the uptake than your mind, and you can feel the suspicious expression folding your facial features, hiding the thrum of anticipation the sight of him brings.

Eren cocks his head pityingly, smiling at you in a way that would seem predatory if it wasn’t so entirely disarming, so entirely inviting. Your feet are bringing you closer before he even speaks— you know why you’re here before he says it.

“I’ve been waiting so long,” Eren beckons you onto his lap, firmly grabbing your shoulder and silently demanding you straddle him when you try to turn away from him, “you’re beautiful, so…alive here.”

He takes a bit of your hair between your fingers and rubs it, satisfaction flickering over his face. It’s then that you realize how little fabric covers you; really, it’s only a thin, wispy excuse of a dress, hanging in tatters around your body and leaving your skin free for the taking. Taking notice of your dress leads you to take notice of another pressing matter: Eren’s naked beneath you.

“Where are we?”

“Does it matter?” Eren reaches up to toy with your hair again, smiling gently. He tilts his head up, asking you for something you can’t identify, but that you already know you’re willing to give. Your soul, maybe.

Your lips meet his in a tentative brush, a motion that feels shy, but practiced. It’s a reflex, an instinct, to kiss him this way. Eren groans gutturally against your mouth, pressing into you deeper, digging his fingertips into your bare skin. The chorus of inhuman chatter erupts around you both again, and you jump, almost pushing away from him before he stops you with a firm hand against the small of your back.

“Sh,” he whispers, nipping at your chin, “don’t pay them any mind. You’re with me, remember?”

It’s difficult at first with the ever-growing hum of life around you, but it grows increasingly easier to melt into him, to lose yourself in the rhythm of him. He’s thick and hard underneath you, pressed right where you’re already slick and ready for him, and he’s got a tight grip on your hips, working you against him to make sure you feel it and oh– do you feel it.

A debauched gasp pours from your mouth to his; Eren sinks sharp teeth into your bottom lip with a grunt of approval, pulls you up to situate you over his twitching cock. You can feel the lecherous eyes of the woodland creatures, spirits, monsters, whatever they may be around you, looking in on the sticky, tangible arousal building between your bodies. The steady glow of Eren’s eyes, the prick of the thorns in his hair under your fingertips, the insistent weight of him pressing against the wet heat of you: all of it keeps you grounded, keeps your hips rolling into Eren like your life depends on it, like it’s what you were born to do.

“Are you ready?” Eren murmurs, quiet as the grave, stilling your hips and lifting you.

“I’m not sure, I–”

“I’ve been waiting so long,” Eren interrupts, “so long for you– you’re ready for me, I know you are.”

And with that, he’s sliding you down onto his cock, splitting you open, dropping your jaw. The cacophony from the forest grows deafening, but the glowing eyes in the brush streak and blur as your eyes flutter closed, a stuttered moan falling from your lips.

“Oh–”

“Knew you were ready,” Eren sinks his teeth into your collarbone, lets you wiggle and roll your hips until he’s situated comfortably inside of you. “You were born for this. For me.”

You can’t even bring yourself to disagree, to refute, to question. It’s godly, the way he fills you, the twinge of pain in the pit of your belly that doesn’t waver, no matter which way you squirm. The longer you sit, perched upon him– you feel something akin to divinity, akin to prophecy ringing through your bones. You were born for this.

“Eren…” It’s more of a sigh than anything, a confession and an admittance of guilt, a repentance. He likes the way it tastes, you can tell by the way his hands grip you harder, roll you along his cock faster with an urgency that betrays his calm, adoring gaze. He’s sinking his claws into you, bit by bit, and you’re better for it. You belong here, with the night on your skin and Eren nestled inside of you.

“Don’t ever leave,” Eren smiles gently, as if it’s a choice, “stay with me forever.”

The pleasure’s beginning to peak in your stomach, the howls swirling in the air around you start to feel more like a blanket, the moonlight like a crown. His hands are so hot they almost burn, his tongue licking up your neck feels like a baptism. Your back is arching, your blood is rushing, the stars are speaking to you– what are they saying?

Your fingernails have left angry indents in your throat where you’ve clutched into the skin in a desperate attempt to regain your breath, shooting up out of your slumber with a vicious jolt. Your head spins with the sudden movement, the antique furnishings of the room bleeding into candlelit blurs as you heave for breath.

“Sleeping?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the gravel of Eren’s voice, having believed yourself to be alone. Some instinctual part of your mind almost remembers falling asleep on the loveseat in the glass-enclosed sunroom earlier, one too many martinis to thank for that, but you can worry about that later– Eren’s your priority now, shirtless and leaned against the doorframe with one eyebrow raised and a very telling flush rising to his cheeks. The chilly wetness between your legs brings your dream to the forefront of your mind. Had he heard, somehow?

“What are you doing down here?” You do your best to narrow your eyes into something convincing enough to pass for annoyance, unsure if you’ve managed to pull it off with the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

“Water,” Eren says simply, raising a glass you hadn’t noticed he was holding, “but it seems like you might need it more than I do.”

“I don’t–” He ignores you, crossing the room to hand you the ornate glass. Your throat is dry, and so you drink, eyeing him suspiciously as you sip.

“Dreaming?” The corner of his mouth twitches almost imperceptibly.

“Nightmare.” You push yourself up to sit, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. “How’d you know?”

A long pause, Eren’s eyes dragging over you slowly, your skin burning. “You were squirming.”

“It was disturbing,” you say truthfully, looking over your shoulder and half-expecting to see some horrible monster leering at you from the doorway, salivating over you and Eren, “but I’ve had this same dream since I was a kid. Part of it, anyway.”

“Need company?”

“No,” you say quickly, shaken by the dream and how low Eren’s pajama pants hang on his hips, “I just need to get to my real bed. I’m sure sleeping outside had something to do with it.”

“That’s not true.” Eren’s scooping you up into his arms before you can open your mouth to argue, as if you even would. This isn’t unusual for him; you’ve grown used to his tendency to touch you, to hold you close to his chest as though you belong there. It echoes in your head, you were born for this. A shudder wracks through your body. “Cold?”

“Mhm,” you hum, not trusting your own voice. Eren nuzzles your head deeper into his shoulder, lets you get a noseful of the scent of him. Dewdrops, mankind, a rotting forest floor. It gives you a disconcerting sense of deja vu.

“Sleeping outside is good for you,” Eren goes on, scaling the stairs with impossible ease, “my mom used to tell me that.”

“Is that so?” It brings a sleepy little smile to your face, despite yourself: the image of a messy-haired, fussy baby Eren, curled up in his mother’s lap and looking up at the night sky.

“Sure.” You can hear the nostalgia in his voice. “The stars can talk to you that way, through your dreams. They show you where you’re supposed to go.”

Your blood runs cold at that– does he know? How could he? He’s a man, not a mind-reader, not a mystic. Right? You let him carry you to your door in silence, the only noise being the padding of his bare feet down the Turkish carpet runner in the hall. When he gets to your door, Eren finally starts to move to let you down, and your mouth moves without your permission, voice small and echoing in the still nighttime air.

“Eren?”

He freezes, muscles locking you in place against his chest. “Yeah?”

“Was I talking in my sleep?”

Eren settles you on your feet before answering, leaving one lingering hand on your hip and bringing the other up to brush at your cheek. Your eye must have been watering– his thumb catches a stray tear. His smile is a little too sharp when he answers.

“No, why?”

“Just wondering.” Relief courses through your body, but your muscles stay taut under his touch.

“Okay,” Eren looks you up and down one more time, as if he’s making sure you’re all there, “goodnight, then. I hope your dreams get better.”

When he turns to go, the broad silhouette of him growing darker as he retreats, you remember something fragile underneath the floorboards.

“Wait, Eren! You forgot your water.”

“My what?” When he turns to face you, he’s still grinning– baring his teeth, more like. You think you’re imagining the glow in his eyes, too fresh from that dream.

“Your water. I think I have a cup in my room if you need it.”

“Oh.” Eren waves a hand nonchalantly through the air, catching a stray stream of moonlight. You can see the dust particles dancing around his hand, enchanted by his movement. “Wasn’t thirsty."

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

It’s a slinky, dazzling dress; Elie Saab, Spring 2005, maybe? 2006? Sasha had lent it to you, insisted upon you taking it, really. It’s got to be worth at least your years’ rent payment, dripping with Swarovski and cut low and square across your chest, and easily the most decadent thing you’ve ever worn but– it’s family dinner night. No expense is spared.

Historia sits across from you, reaching one dainty hand out for Armin’s negroni, nearly dipping the massive drop-pearl charm on her bracelet into the first course: a cold, cucumber soup. Armin nudges her meaningfully, scowling and handing his glass to her, glancing apologetically at the stiff-backed butler across the room, who wasn’t looking anyway. Sasha’s at the head of the table, working on Historia’s serving of the cucumber soup, dunking focaccia bread into it in a voracious manner that you’re sure wasn’t outlined in the etiquette courses she’d endured as a child. And he’s next to you, naturally.

His dinner jacket looks out of place on him, oddly enough: angular and overly formal, as well-fitting as it is. You wish it was a little greener, a little more playful, something to match the Eren you’ve gotten to know under all the glitz and glamour. It’s too human for him, really, but that thought makes you shudder faster than you can shove it to the side.

“Wasn’t that the girl from Luxembourg?” Sasha asks through a giggle, finally leaning back to allow the butler to collect the remnants of her first course. Historia frowns at her, gulps back nearly half of Armin’s cocktail.

“No, the girl from Luxembourg was a slut. He wouldn’t have touched her.”

Armin and Eren exchange a look that implies that, whoever the slut from Luxembourg might have been, she didn’t escape their clutches unscathed. Historia notices the guilty smile dimpling Eren’s cheek and smacks Armin in retaliation.

“Ouch, Stori!” Armin scowls right back at her; if you didn’t know about Armin’s father’s remarriage to Historia’s mother, you’d think they were actually related.

“She was a slut,” Historia sniffs, finishing the rest of Armin’s cocktail in a second swig.

“It was Eren’s idea– you’re always punishing me for what he does.” When the staff place the second course, some sort of ceviche, in front of him, Armin crosses his arms over his chest and looks away like a huffy child. Sasha laughs and swats at his shoulder.

“Don’t pretend you don’t have your own hand in things. You can’t blame everything on Eren.”

“Maybe he can,” you shrug, the champagne going to your head. You’re feeling impish, feeling like one of them. Wildly, you reach a hand up to pinch at Eren’s cheek, smiling to yourself when you feel it turn warm under your fingers. “I mean, just look at him. He’s a devil.”

“Am not,” Eren scoffs, slapping a hand on your leg and shaking it playfully, “you weren’t there anyway. Min’s very convincing when he wants to be.”

“I am.” Armin smiles at you, head tilting intrepidly. “I can get Eren to share anything I want, I bet.”

It feels loaded, like a challenge, and Eren’s fingers tighten where he’s gripping your leg. When you chance a glance to the side at him, his jaw is tense, gaze focused on Armin like a threat, like a predator.

“Not anything,” Eren says, voice low and dangerous, more somber than you’ve ever heard him. Armin’s face falls for a millisecond, scrunching his nose at the murderous glint in Eren’s eyes, before he clenches his jaw and glances between the two of you with a haughty smirk.

“Est-ce vrai? En êtes-vous sûr? Tu l'as dit toi-même - je suis convaincant quand je veux quelque chose.”

“Ne commencez pas avec moi, pas pour ça.” It’s hardly louder than a murmur, but the threat carries all the same. You look to Sasha with widened eyes, hoping for a translation, but she’s chewing slowly on a bite of her ceviche, looking at Armin, Eren, then Armin again with a strange expression you’ve never seen before.

A heavy silence settles over the table, Eren’s fingertips leaving sore spots through your dress where they’re digging into your thigh, and Armin’s eyes dancing over Eren’s face, that same smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Daring.

“You two are so in love,” Historia gripes with a roll of her eyes, smashing the carefully-cubed ceviche on her plate into a mush. You eye the smear of meat on her fork disdainfully and set down the bite you had been about to pop in your mouth, opting for your glass of bubbles instead.

The jokingly grumpy lilt of Historia’s comment seems to cut the thread of tension that had grown taut between the two men, as Armin allows Sasha to pull him away from Eren and back into his corner of the table with her and Historia. Their conversation drones on, the ethics of Eren and Armin’s tendency to tag-team women fading into the background as you wait for Eren’s hand to slip from your thigh. It doesn’t.

His thumb rubs idly over the slit of your dress, brushing it back and forth over your bare skin for just long enough to get you used to the pressure of his palm beaming heat through the thin fabric, get your guard down. And then his fingers slip underneath, grabbing into the hot flesh of your thigh.

You jump ever so slightly, flighty as a fawn, and Eren chuckles under his breath beside you when you choke a bit on your champagne. He’s cool—stoic, even—as he bashfully bats away the scandalous insinuations of Sasha and Historia’s storytelling, the lewd raise of Armin’s eyebrows at the mention of a certain leggy redhead in Prague. His hand stays steady, possessive and permanent on your leg. When Armin and Historia start arguing over yet another of Armin’s alleged missteps with one of her college friends, Eren takes the opening to lean into you, murmuring into your ear.

“What’s got you so jumpy?” His breath puffs out hot and sensual against the shell of your ear, and you can feel your earring lifting with the movement of his lips. He’s so close.

“Not jumpy,” you answer under your breath, trying to keep your composure.

“Hm,” Eren hums, leaning back just enough to study your profile, “wasn’t sure if you’d dozed off, started dreaming again.”

Your head whips towards him in what is surely an uncouth accusation of insinuation, borne of shock, but luckily, Armin’s too busy being hand-fed ceviche by Sasha and scolded by Historia to notice. Other than his eyes, Eren’s stiller than death, watching over the antics with the littlest smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. His eyes, though, flick down to you, glinting like a dare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means something?” It’s a challenge, and you realize too late that the rope around your ankle has cinched, and you’re caught in his trap.

“No,” you say, hoping for more conviction in your voice, but it comes out as a breathy whisper. The corner of Eren’s mouth twitches, and it pulls an irritated huff from you.

“Tell me about your dream. The one that woke you up the other night.”

“Tell you– w-what? Here?”

“Yes, here,” Eren repeats you, quiet and calm, keeping one eye on your bickering friends to ensure you’re kept all to himself, “unless it’s something you can’t share.”

The blanching of your face tells him everything he needs to know, and that sickening admission almost overshadows the fact that he knows. He undeniably knows, now; maybe not the specifics, but enough to know that you had woken up sticky and gasping after a sinful dream. Maybe he even knows it was about him. 

You’ve given up on trying to understand the otherworldly elements of Eren; the way he seems to appear at inopportune moments and know what you’re thinking at every turn, but this is too much. You quickly realize that while you’re not sober, you’re certainly not drunk enough to deal with him, and you finish your glass of champagne in a single gulp.

“You’re one to talk about sharing,” you hiss at him, trying to will away the goosebumps prickling your arms as his fingers inch higher, skating along soft skin. Eren’s demeanor falters, if only for a moment– he looks frustrated.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Eren leans into you, brows furrowing. “I don’t share just anything, and especially not just because ‘Min wants a taste.”

“Am I yours to share?” That heavy swig of champagne has gone straight to your head it seems, as you turn your face up to him defiantly, finally saying the quiet part out loud. The weight falls off your shoulders like a head, and you can almost feel the itch of the guillotine at your neck as the words leave your mouth. Eren, ever the gentle executioner, only lets the calm fascination return to his face, brings his fingers further up your thigh.

“Tell me about your dream, hm? They’re not listening, it’s just you and me.”

He’s only inches away from where you’re already beginning to grow hot and wet– he hasn’t even done anything, and you want to chastise yourself over the undeniable need beginning to bubble inside you. Eren’s smiling so sweetly, as if he’s lulling you into a sense of complacency, and your tongue hangs heavy in your mouth, eager to spill your secrets.

“I…I’m scared.”

Eren’s eyebrows raise and his smile grows a bit toothier, disbelief written plain on his face. “Of me?”

“Sometimes,” you say, small and honest as the grave, “it’s like you aren’t real.”

“I’m very real,” Eren insists, two fingers pressing against the damp silk of your panties, his eyes lighting up when you stifle a gasp, “doesn’t that feel real?”

“Wait–”

“The dream,” Eren says again, increasing the pressure of his fingers, “were you scared of me there, too?”

“Yes,” you whisper, ashamed and painfully cognizant of the feel of him between your legs, “I was in a forest, running after the little lights, they– I’ve seen them for a long time.”

“Since you were a child,” Eren repeats your confession from the other night. He’s reading you, you realize, not like a book, but like a poem. You couldn’t put the difference into words if you had to, but there’s a certain melody to the flickering of his gaze over your hot face.

“They’ve never led me anywhere before,” your words hitch in your throat, stopped dead when Eren’s fingers start rubbing circles over your swollen clit. The silk is thin and soaked, and his fingers slide over you in a way that feels god-given. Your jaw hangs ever-so-slightly, the butlers coming to change the course. You wait for Eren to slip his hand out from under your dress, fearful of the staff watching as he toys with you, but he only nods encouragingly.

“Keep going.”

“Um,” you stammer, swallowing thickly and glancing at the plate of bleeding, rare filet in front of you, “they took me to a clearing in the forest. There were creatures, ones I’ve never seen before.”

“Did they hurt you? Any of them?” A furrow appears between his eyebrows, deep and concerned. Some small part of your brain, muted since Eren’s hand slid beneath your dress, worries itself with why Eren seems so disquieted with your dream– it’s not like you actually could have been hurt, it was only a dream. Wasn’t it?

“No, they stayed away. They just made a lot of noise, but they all got quiet when…”

A knowing smirk. “When?”

“When I saw you.”

Eren pats your thighs gently, urging them apart; he looks relieved, exhilarated, unreal. If you didn’t know better, you’d think his eyes were glowing in the candlelight. Armin, Historia, and Sasha’s clamor across the table grows louder with each passing second, but as soon as you begin to wonder if you should be doing a better job of hiding what’s very clearly happening under the slit of your dress, Eren’s fingers have wiggled their way beneath the fabric of your silk thong. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, eyes widening.

“I was glad to see you,” Eren says quietly, “in the dream, I mean.”

“You said you’d been waiting for me,” you whisper, keeping your voice low to hide the whine scratching at the back of your throat, “that you’d been waiting a long time.”

“I bet I was,” Eren hums thoughtfully, grinning viciously when he sinks a finger into you, clearly relishing the way your fingernails tighten into his wrist. “I never lie.”

“Even in a dream?” You feel fuzzy and warm, blinking moony, worried eyes up at him. Eren shakes his head in confirmation, curling his finger and making your thighs clench. “You put me in your lap, and–and, you had a crown. It was nighttime, I think, and the moon was really bright. You were inside me.”

Eren slides another finger in to match the first, and you’re hardly able to stifle a moan when it comes fluttering through your teeth, a breeze of a sound compared to what you’re struggling to keep captive in your chest. Eren’s other hand reaches forward to grab a small piece of the carved steak, brings the meat up to your mouth and brushes it over your lips.

“Eat,” Eren instructs, smiling placidly as you mindlessly obey, biting into the red meat, “but keep telling me.”

He waits patiently for you to chew around the bite of steak he’s offered you, eyes searching you for something– what it is, you can’t be sure. Your mind is wobbling around the flashes of memory of your dream, distracted every few steps by an overwhelming rush of pleasure from between your legs, Eren’s fingers curling incessantly against your walls. You swallow, never taking your eyes off of him.

“You fucked me.” The confession is breathless when it leaves you, and even through the haze of what you pray isn’t a rapidly-approaching orgasm, you don’t miss the way Eren’s shoulders stiffen, the way his eyes flash. 

“Did I fuck you, or did you fuck me?” Eren murmurs back to you, mischief in his eyes and a tense gravel to his voice. “You said you were in my lap, after all.”

“I—oh, god—I don’t know,” you’re barely able to keep your voice low, a little whimper interrupting you, “Eren–”

“Keep going, it’s okay,” Eren’s fingers don’t slow– in fact, they begin to move more harshly, “you’re safe with me, you know that. I showed you in the forest, didn’t I?”

“Mhm.” You can’t stop your forehead from falling onto his shoulder, teeth digging into your lip so hard you aren’t sure if that coppery taste is from the steak, or your own blood. The conversation in the room, despite being made by only three people, feels like a deafening rush in your ears. 

The realization hits home that Eren’s going to make you cum all over his fingers in front of your friends, the staff, and your dinner, and he’s going to wrench it out of you in a matter of seconds, if the tightening of your gut is anything to go by.

“What else?” Eren practically growls in your ear, low and hoarse. “Is there anything else?”

“You asked me– fuck, you asked me something.” Your hips are canting forward into his palm, your face tacky and warm thinking about the couture fabric under you, now drenched in your cum and sweat. “Eren, you have to slow down, please–”

He’s merciless, pumping his fingers into you ceaselessly, rendering you a lost cause. “What did I ask you?”

“You asked—oh, my god—asked if I, if I would stay with you forever.”

“What was your answer?”

You can’t respond, not with the way you’ve stopped breathing to swallow down the debauched moan bubbling in your chest. Your entire body tenses, strung tight as a bow around Eren’s fingers as the knot in your stomach unravels, cool, inevitable release finally crashing over you. Eren works you through it, murmuring little hushes into your hairline, and placing a comforting hand over your fingers that are digging into his wrist, smiling against your forehead as you slide your hips back and forth over his hand.

You manage to pull the whole thing off impressively subdued, no more than a tinny whimper leaving your lips, only to be absorbed by the sleeve of Eren’s dinner jacket. When you dare to sit up, to meet Eren’s eyes, he’s still looking at you expectantly, as if that wasn’t enough.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” you whisper, waiting for Historia to chastise you, or Armin to make a lewd comment. The three of them are still arguing, Sasha stealing bites from Armin’s plate each time he turns to snap at Historia, who’s now sitting amongst a crowd of empty crystal glasses.

“What was your answer?” Eren says again, pulling his fingers from you and smirking at the glisten that stretches down into his palm.

“I woke up,” you say with shaky conviction, trying to glare at him.

“Are you still scared of me?” Eren asks innocently, picking up a piece of his steak with his hand and feeding it to you again. Your cum mixes in with the flavor of the steak, gives it a certain tang and salinity that makes your heart beat faster, even though you’ve just floated back down to consciousness.

“I– I don’t think so, but…” you trail off, looking down at the plate. Eren brings another piece to your lips, letting you bite half and giving the rest to himself, not missing the opportunity to suck on the tips of his fingers. Your thighs press together when his eyes flutter shut, knowing what he’s tasting and watching him revel in it.

“But what?”

“I don’t think I understand you,” you confess breathlessly, “I think that’s what scares me. I spend all day looking at you, and I never feel closer to understanding you, to really touching you. It’s like you’re not…” you trail off in search of the right word.

“Real?” Eren cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Human,” you say without entirely meaning to, widening your eyes at him in apology. “I’m sorry, not in a bad way necessarily, but– you feel…like you’re above me. In a sense.”

“Above you?” Eren frowns, forgetting his dinner entirely and looking straight at you with rejection written all over his face, wrinkles you want to smoothe over with your thumb.

“I just…” you sigh, finding it harder to meet his gaze by the second, “I don’t understand what you want with me.”

“Still?” Eren tilts his head. “Even after that?”

“The dream?” You nearly chuckle in exasperation. “It was just a dream, that’s all.”

Eren frowns a little, reaches for your glass of champagne– oh, god, when had that been refilled?– and hands it to you. He watches you take one sip, and then another, that concentrated pull of his eyebrows never ceasing until you reach a shaky hand out for your fork, beginning to feed yourself small bites of steak. His perplexed expression ripples out into one of contentedness, smiling gently as he watches you take care of yourself.

“All days are nights to see till I see thee, and nights bright days when dreams do show me thee,” Eren finally says, looking at you very much like you’re supposed to be parsing something out from his quote.

“On to the sonnets now, are we?” You cock a playful eyebrow at him, despite your tired, slouching posture and your repeated attempts to keep your guard up. Eren grins mischievously, leaning in as if he means to press the tip of his nose to yours.

“I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say–”

“If it be love indeed, tell me how much?” You’re quicker than him on this one, a vicious little smirk cutting across your face when you manage to cut him off. Eren’s eyebrows raise, impressed, but you don’t keep him down for long.

“There’s beggary in love that can be reckoned,” Eren finally says, twirling the ring on your pinky absentmindedly. You don’t even remember when he laid his hand atop yours, but it feels heavy and comforting, and so you let it lie there, just for the time being.

Your post-orgasm exhaustion hits you like a train, the temptation to slump against Eren’s shoulder winning out over your propriety. You’ll sit back up by the fourth course, you tell yourself, nibbling on a large piece of parsley that had come as a garnish on your plate. Eren doesn’t seem to mind the weight of your fuzzy head nodded into the cotton of his shoulder; in fact, he seems to adjust himself so you can nuzzle closer, eyes blinking owlishly as you reach for your glass of bubbles. You’re teetering dangerously close to the edge of unconsciousness, and you almost wouldn’t care, until something catches your eye.

Over the rim of your glass, Historia is staring at you. It’s not a look of admonishment, but more…caution? Concern? Pity? All you can discern for certain is that Historia must have seen everything Eren did to you, everything he’s still doing to you, taking a caviar bump off the back of his hand and laughing at Armin, shoulder shaking under your cheek. Historia’s brows furrow at you, her bottom lip wavering slightly.

You sit up suddenly, ignoring the way the room spins with the speed of your action. Eren turns his head to you, surprised, only to follow your gaze across the table to Historia. You’re trying to keep from looking at him, but you can’t help yourself, watching his expression crumple into something stern and disparaging.

Historia withers for only a moment, before narrowing her eyes at him threateningly. Eren squeezes his hand around yours. Sasha shoves Historia admonishingly for not listening to her joke. Armin’s eyes focus in on where your fingers grip your champagne flute hard enough to turn white.

You think you see a few pairs of familiar, glowing eyes in the bushes outside, peering in on the scene at the table. You think you need to go to bed.

[puripurin]

Yan! Llama Hybrid x SheepHybrid! Reader

— Recently, on the farm, a bunch of coyotes and wolves started to snag some sheep hybrids into the woods when they would get too close to the fences. It has gotten so bad that they would do it in broad daylight.

The owners decided that they would introduce a new addition to the herd to combat the coyotes. A male Llama named Lumi. All of the sheep were skeptical at first because they all thought that it was a little odd that the new sheep would have such a long neck and a lot bigger in size, but soon enough, they couldn't help but warm up to him.

Lumi, on the other hand, was still in his awkward phase. He'd recently entered into adulthood and was feeling sad and lonely without his parents there to guide him, but it wasn't until he saw your gorgeous curls and your small little tail that wagged in excitement. Just in that moment, he'd decided to be your life-long mate and started the process of courting you.

You did not give a shit about Lumi. You only cared about the coyotes that ate the rest of the flock. You wanted to start making sacrifices to grow your cult of small critters such as squirrels and rabbits.

This was because you heard from a passing by sheep hybrid that was being transported to another farm about how you could obtain everything you wanted if people devoted their lives to you.

However, you didn't expect Lumi to be so dedicated to you that he'd easily deciphered your messages to your devout followers and your weekly gatherings.

As you walked out of the dead of night, with the intention of killing a coyote that night. But it was oddly still, as if it was waiting for something. The trees didn't ruffle against each other, and the cool wind was nowhere to be seen

You stiffened up and silently walked back. If one of the other sheeps found out about this whole cult thing you had going on, you'd be ousted and killed by the coyotes instead.

But, you were immediately thrown down and turned over. Your eyes widened in panic and started to attack the person who held you down silently, only to realize that blood was dripping on your face.

"My love, I've killed one of those tainted and unpure coyotes for your sacrifice. I would hate to see your delicate hands get stained with something unworthy of your desire... but why... Why do you yearn and look at someone else with interest other than me? ... Only I shall be your eyes and ears, my love..."

Random and barely edit post after months of not posting. I was watch yt shorts and i came across a video abt guard llamas w sheeps. Its been on my mind for 3 weeks and i started this 2 weeks ago. I only decided now to finish it.

You can see the point where i went fuck it because i had no idea what to do with the reader's background so i was like "Ooh maybe they want to smash the coyotes... what's close to smashing coyotes... Cult." Cult leader YN it is.

Anyways below is for the rest of people who want to know what happened after that incident.

I feel better about my dog's death, but we weren't able to get him back due to the poor weather and the fact he was last seen in a drain. So there wasn't a proper burial, but I'm happy that we didn't end up with 2 losses. We had them since they were puppies, and its upsetting that the younger one died, but i understand why they had to kill him.

He's a dangerous breed of dog even though he's docile most of them time. He was a cane corso, and my older dog is a rottweiler and pitbull mix. So not the most safest dogs to be around, but what are you gonna do when your country is busy locking up a man for money laundering bcs they shit at their jobs.

Right, if I'm not lazy enough, I'll go back and redo every one of my ocs bcs im on the verge of deleting them all from embarrassment. Then that will hopefully be a small week long event for my tumblr as im not used to those things. But this might take months.

Also, no won't do kinktober, im lazy, and smut isn't my forte. Anyways bye-bye, see yall when my coffin feels too stuffy~

(soz if this is shit as well bcs i didn't do a whole lotta explaining abt Lumi's behavior)

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"Better Story, Improved Effects." Mickey Altieri X Reader.

Soooo I was re-watching Scream 2 last week while sick in bed and something finally clicked in my brain and I realized oh fuck, I love Mickey. So shit, here we are, his first smut! I dunno where this all came from but maybe it was just lying dormant under the surface and now it’s all out here to play and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! Big shout out to @eggsandbeer for the title, beta reading and to her and ALSO @ace-of-clubs-and-diamonds for the help on his character and all the hyping up since this was my first time writing him.

---

Part two now here.

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 7.3K. Mickey Altieri X FEM! AFAB! Reader. Warnings: Drinking. Cheating. You Are Randy’s Girlfriend. Shit Talking. Rude Behaviour. Manipulation. Making Out. Grinding. Dirty Talk. Vaginal Fingering. Oral Sex. Blow Job. Eating Pussy. Teasing. Banter. Orgasm Denial. Extreme Frustration. Bad Mouthing Randy. Filming. Sex Caught On Tape. Dub-Con. Voyeurism. Exhibitionism. Spanking. Masturbation. Cuckolding. Vaginal Sex. Squirting. Cream Pie. 

—

The last way you wanted to spend your Friday night was attending a party solo and thoroughly annoyed with your boyfriend, and yet here you were.

You had been looking forward to unwinding from a hectic week with Randy, some drinks, getting a little messy, perhaps a bit publicly indecent. Then that turning from a kind of foreplay of its own to hastily finding a dark corner secluded enough to hook up with a minimal, (but still a very exciting and arousing), risk of getting caught. 

But no, sadly, instead of getting to do any of that you were walking up to the party already well underway totally alone and all because Randy had other plans he didn’t bother making you aware of until about an hour ago. He bought a ticket to go see some movie he had already seen a hundred times, a fact you pointed out quickly that had him replying with equal speed, saying, “But I’ve never seen it on the big screen!”

As if that makes it all okay and would quell your negative emotions and upsetness about him leaving you behind and kicking off his weekend without you. He made some over the top, big and grand promises about making it up to you tomorrow and you rolled your eyes with an unconfident, “Uh-huh”.

It left your lips before he proceeded to try and smooth his departure with a few kisses that you barely returned and on top of that didn’t do much of anything to smooth down your ruffled feathers. He left in short order and you finished getting ready for your night out in a huff. Did you pour some extra effort into looking good so he would feel extra bad and stupid for ditching you for some lame movie? Yes. Was that just a touch petty? Also yes but who could blame you?

Soon as you pushed your way through the bothersome cluster of assholes that were all hanging out and talking in the doorway, for some fucking reason, seriously, who does that? Your first order of business was getting a drink. 

The first one went down too quickly and quietly, you didn’t leave the drink station in the kitchen and certainly didn’t talk to anyone yet. One of your hands on the countertop as you gulped down the sticky sweet mixture. You made a second drink after the first and then decided to venture out and seek something out to make you forget about Randy, at least for a little while, the living room that was filled with music and people seemed like as good a place as any to start. 

He was hoping he might see you here tonight but seeing you here alone was an unexpected treat. He’d caught sight of you the second you walked in although you did not spot him right off the hop. 

He’d been keeping his eyes on you for a while and if Meeks was here there was no way he would have gone this long without latching himself onto you, he is many things, loud, opinionated, and fucking clingy. He doesn’t think there is a single time he had seen you two together where Randy hadn’t been hanging off of you, like he needed to touch you in some way at all times or he would be in physical pain otherwise. To be fair he isn’t sure he would be much better if you were his. None of your other friends were about and your expression told him you were upset, about what he didn’t know, and would he be a good friend if he didn’t walk over and check in on you? 

You on an average day was already a treat for the eyes but on a night out like this, when you poured in that extra effort was truly something to behold. He made his way over to you, sliding up beside you, a hand tapping you on the shoulder as he asked, “What’s with the frown?”

Your head snapped up, looking to see Mickey right beside you, hand hovering over your shoulder and smile on his lips but eyes concerned. “Is my bad mood so obvious you clocked it from across the room?” You follow the question up by taking a healthy sip from your drink.

A raise of his eyebrows as he brought up his own cup, he’d crouched slightly when greeting you but standing back up to full height and with a half shrug as he said, “Well it is kinda hard to miss when blue is very much not your colour.”

You stifle a laugh into your cup before saying, “Cute, very cute.”

A grin breaks out on his face, he already got you laughing less than a minute into him walking up, this was a great sign. “Soooo what’s up?”

“Ahhhh-” A dismissive wave of your hand as you raise your cup for another sip, and he laughs, a shake of his head as he points to you, “No, no ‘ahhhh’, something is up so spill!”

“I don’t wanna bring down your night.” You say honestly.

He scoffs, “Doubt that you could do that, and what are friends for if not to listen to whatever is eating you?” 

He made a good point. Maybe if you vented and got it all off your chest you would feel better? So you give in much easier than you probably should have. A heavy sigh and you take his hand with the one that wasn’t currently holding your drink, urging him as you say, “Okay, c’mon.”

Mickey brightens at the contact that you initiated as he lets you drag him off through the glass sliding doors leading to the backyard. 

Sitting on the back patio you proceed to spill your guts, the thump of the music lessened now that you were outside, much easier to hear each other and talk properly. When you finished filling him in he was less than impressed to learn of the reason for your bad mood, what kind of idiot was Randy to ditch you like this? He was of course, nothing but sympathetic to your plight and your pain but also that not so small and sick part inside of him saw this as a golden opportunity, a perfect way to hopefully do what he had been dying to for months. He just had to play it right. 

He started easy, saying, “Wow, no wonder you are so upset.” 

You exhaled with a nod as you leaned back in your chair and that led to him following up with, “I mean I knew Meeks was a fucking idiot but this might be one of the dumber things he has ever done.” 

A small shocked laugh spilled out and it emboldens him, he wants to lean closer to you but doesn’t want to push, not yet so instead he is continuing further before you could hope to respond, “Like does carrot top have any brains at all to rather pass up a party with you for a fuckin’ movie? I bet if I cracked his skull open all I’d find is some loose un-popped corn kernels and a pool of that artificial butter schlock they serve at the theatre he is at right now.”

“Damn Mickey, tell me how you really feel.” You responded before you giggled and he said with a sure nod, “I will! Randy fuckin’ Meeks is totally fucking brain dead for doing this and you should be pissed up at him.”

“Yeah?” You ask, fingers circling the rim of your cup and he said loudly, arms outstretched, “Yes! I mean Christ! What, you don’t think he deserves just a little bit of your ire for pulling this stunt?”

He makes a compelling argument. 

He had you smiling, had you laughing and more importantly, he validated your feelings. The more you both talked, the more he decried Randy’s actions and backed you up as your second drink was finished, you felt it. The annoyance, the anger, the unfairness, you ended up telling him a few more things, disagreements and issues minor in nature that Randy had done to upset you, things you think you would be over but when a bit tipsy and upset, venting, it all comes bubbling up to the surface. 

It really couldn’t have gone better, you giving him those few more insights gave him more chances to plant further unrest between you and him. 

You felt insanely heard and listened to, and maybe it was your overall mood, maybe it was a bit of the drink, but everything he was saying made sense, perhaps Randy wasn’t that great a boyfriend, this movie thing might be indicative of a bigger problem in your whole relationship. Your head felt confused but that was lessening, the longer you chat, the more he insists Randy’s behavior is fucked up, you find it harder and harder to deny that it held weight and made sense.

All and all the conversation was around a half hour before he was encouraging you to get up, saying, “Enough about that asshole, it’s Friday night and look around, it’s a party! He’s out having fun and you should be too.”

He was right again and you told him as such, feeling less burdened, lighter and overall excited to have fun and put those awful feelings aside for the time being. “Yeah! No more moping, fuck him, it’s his loss.”

“Hell yeah it is.” You get up and the pair of you end up marching back into the party. Another drink, talking about not as heavy topics, snacks, sitting in on a card game or two, watching part of a movie that was playing on the tv, and a few hours later you were sitting almost shoulder to shoulder watching a very spirited game of beer pong. 

You’d switched to water for a reprieve and during a small lull you said to him, “Hey Mickey?”

A questioning hum that had him turning his head to look at you, “Yeah?”

“Just wanted to say thanks for this. I was feeling really fucked up earlier and if you hadn’t stepped in I woulda had a totally shit time tonight but you completely salvaged it. So uhm, thanks.” 

He smiles, a shrug before he says, “Least I can do, I sure as shit wasn’t about to let you sit around all dramatic and morose.” 

You laugh before trying to defend yourself, “Dramatic and morose, huh? I don’t know if it was that bad.”

His silence speaks volumes. 

You speak his name in a questioning and warning tone and he holds up his hand, a wishy washy and wavering hand motion as he said, “Ehhh-” 

A scoff of mock offence bracketed with a laugh and you playfully punch him in the shoulder, “You dick! I thought you were saving me from my shitty boyfriend for the night! I didn’t know I was just trading one asshole for another.” 

He plays up the impact, rubbing his shoulder as if it actually hurt and he says, “I’m just being honest, I thought you liked me when I was honest.”

“Honest or mean?” You fire back with a grin and he says, “There’s a difference?” 

“For the average person, yes.” 

All the back and forth was very fond and fun. You were feeling much better than you had been earlier by now and you suggested, “Wanna get out of here? Go for a walk?”

“Sounds good to me.” 

You had no destination in mind. Just fresh night air and more conversation. As you meander about the topic, unsurprisingly considering you were talking with Mickey, the talking turns to movies. 

“What do you mean you haven’t seen Stab?” He asked dramatically aghast, way too loud and head up towards the sky as if God themself would have the answer he seeked and you laughed, “I just haven’t!”

“Well we can fix that, no, we should fix that.” He insisted, a wave of his hand encouraging you to follow as he changed course, you turn to follow, a small jog to catch up to him, “What is it that good?”

“God no! It’s garbage.” He said with a look over his shoulder towards you as if you were nuts for even suggesting it was good. You laughed, “Right, so it’s garbage and so I have to see it?”

“Naturally.” He said with a confident nod, hands sliding into his pockets as you fell in step beside him and you say, “Isn’t it not out of theatres yet? I doubt a show is gonna be happening past midnight.”

“No worries about that, I got a bootleg.” He assured and you asked incredulously, “A bootleg of this garbage movie that you don’t like?” 

“Do you not own bootlegs of movies you hate?” He asks and you say, “No because I’m not a fucking psycho unlike my present company apparently.” 

He laughs the comment off and soon you are at his place, you had never actually been here before. It was late but you weren’t in a rush to go back to your own abode alone, leading you to step into the door he was holding wide open. Wasn’t a bad place at all and you had it to yourselves, it was slightly cluttered but clean and no off putting smells or gross dishes or garbage so hey, a big win and a leg up on many other college living spaces you’d seen in your time here. 

Your eyes wander over the space, posters littering the walls, books scattered around and other items as he puts the tape in before coming to flop down beside you with a smile, “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” 

The couch wasn't half bad, there was more than enough room on it for you and him and yet you didn’t stay far apart for long. As you watched and talked, Mickey pointing out flaws and inaccuracies, jokes and riffing you and he scooted nearer, until this moment right there, where you were just about shoulder to shoulder. One of his hands was on his own knee, the other one gesturing to the tv screen as he said, “I mean have you ever seen organs look faker? The colour is totally off, the blood spray should have been bigger and this is supposed to be outside! Where’s the steam?! The inside of a freshly ripped into body should be hot.”

It wasn’t like horror was your favourite genre and you are sure it isn’t his but you could appreciate the passion he held for the craft, for authenticity of film making, you keep the mood light tease, “Oh yeah because you know just what a murder scene looks like, right?”

He laughs, hardly managing to stifle it before he says, “You don’t know everything I’ve done, I could have all sorts of life experiences you are unaware of but besides that it doesn’t take a killer to know that based off the body's internal temperature if sliced into like that-” Another point to the screen, the mangled torso with the mess of red and innards on display, “-it would steam up in the fall evening air.” 

You hum with a nod and then a line read on screen was so bad he started up again with another joke that had you laughing in a way that made it hard to breathe. He was piling on, you leaning into him fully now and then that is when his hand makes contact, again only after you touch him first. 

A simple move from his own knee to yours, both cracking up and as you come down his hand doesn’t move, instead a simple squeeze as his gaze shifts from screen to you and back again. He is wearing that sideways grin that before tonight sure made your own stare linger a bit longer than it should for a person with a boyfriend, but now? It was having a different effect. 

You’d thought about it, mostly before you got with Randy, but Mickey was a really attractive guy, you got along absurdly well and tonight he treated you amazingly, was here for you in a big way when you needed him. You weren’t even tipsy any longer, you can’t blame the feelings he was giving you on the alcohol. You were only human and him encouraging you to feel your emotions, validating them, the close proximity and clear chemistry you both had wasn’t helping this either. You were positive he was into you. 

Were you seriously considering this?

He interrupted your thoughts, “You having a good time?”

The question startled you. Not just because he spoke but what he said, Mickey was a pretty self assured guy, the question might sound insecure in nature but it wasn’t spoken in a tone that lended to that. You play along and respond, “Yeah, yeah I am. Why do you ask?”

“Oh just know that what we got up to tonight probably wasn’t what you were initially planning to.” He responded with ease, not insecure, just concerned and you sighed, he was a really good guy wasn’t he? 

“Yeah it wasn’t but that isn’t your fault it’s Randy’s for ditching, besides what we did almost all of what he and I would have anyway plus some extra stuff.”

You gesture to the screen and the movie you certainly wouldn’t have seen were it not for him. He asks next, “Well glad I could help give you a good Friday night but that almost all has me curious, what exactly did you miss out on?”

You were painfully aware of the fact that his hand was still on your knee, your eyes drew down slightly at the maintained contact, your shoulders still pressed together, your thighs touching, you leaning into him has created multiple points of contact that you were only just paying attention to now. His body was warm, he smelt good and the question he asked made your mind run back to your intentions at the start of the night, of that semi public risky fuck you wanted to have with Randy. 

A subdued shrug, so small that if his eyes weren’t locked onto you and your shoulder on his he might have missed it, “Nothing two college kids in a relationship wouldn’t normally get up to post-party.”

“Ahhh.” 

The silence that followed was heavy and tension filled and he said, his eyes moving over you in a way that could be read as more than just ‘friendly’, “Shame I can’t help you out with that.”

Fuck it.

“Couldn’t you?” The question was spoken with your gaze raised, gaging his reaction, the slight raise of his eyebrows and confusion on his features meets the small uptick of the sides of his mouth, “What about Randy?”

“What about him?”  You bite back with a casual shrug.

This was too perfect for him but he still had to play this right. An amused exhale before he reminds you, “He’s your boyfriend?” 

“And yet I am here with you, alone in your place and on your couch with him nowhere in sight.” And any remaining gap was closed by you, leaning that last bit, one hand meeting his cheek and you tugging him closer to kiss him. As soon as you made that final move, as soon as your lips met his all bets were off, this was happening, patience and hard work pays off and he can take.

The response you draw from him is immediate, a soft groan, his hands moving, finding your waist, shifting his body and adjusting his posture to better return your sudden affection. You move with him, allowing him to do what he wants, take more of the lead, something he seemed to do with a startling amount of ease, as if he expected you to not only bend but to be into it.  

You were very much into it. 

It wasn’t like what you had with Randy was bad but he was relatively inexperienced when you got together and still wasn’t the most confident without some major prompting and praise. He was a good kisser but more than that you had a great rhythm off the hop, found a solid groove with a natural give and take that seemed to feed into one another beautifully. His hands feel good on your waist, they are grounding and it drives you to want to touch him further. The thumb on your hand still cupping his face swipes over his cheekbone and you tilt his face to be closer still, a move he permits along with your other hand starting on his side before wandering up the expanse of his chest through his shirt. 

His hands slip lower, you feel a rough press of him over your hips and then his hands on your outer thighs and he tugs, a further adjustment so you are underneath him, he is leaning further forward, his body starting to cover yours as the make out hastily progressed. The need overwhelms you first, he breaks the kiss and his lips drags down your jaw and further still, kissing over your neck and you arch, squirming your hips, grinding against him and he smiles against your throat from how well this is going so quickly. 

Your fingers hook in the neck of his shirt, tangling, twisting, you pull, desperate for more contact as you grind again, he nips lightly at your pulse and you moan again, softer and so sweet, addicting for him to hear. Another few passes of tongue and of teeth that have your thighs hugging his hips and the next grind that happens is mutual, as is the breath that is caught in your respective throats. “Fuck, you’re better at this than I imagined.”

The smile on his face shifts to a grin that is outright cocky, one of his hands on your hip he pulls, makes you grind on him in a way that has your head falling back with a sigh and he asks, “Have you imagined me like this a lot?”

Your hands don’t stop wandering his body, feeling him and when you don’t respond right away, more concerned with the next move of your hips and the subtle rush of pleasure, he continues, “Thought about me being the one doing this when you’re with your shitty little boyfriend?” 

A shake of your head,  but you don’t stop, you start to tug, a silent plea for him to take off his shirt and one he gives into as you say, “He’s not that bad.” 

He is sitting up on his knees, the lack of contact makes you want to complain but the fabric is peeled away and thrown to the side and any possible complaining is forgotten about. A scoff, “Sure, yeah, he’s a real great guy, hence why you were just grinding yourself all over me with your tongue down my throat.” 

A laugh that is too light all things considered, “Shut up.” 

He listens. Your hands on his shoulders yanking him until he is against you once more, your mouth crashing into his. Your body was warm and soft, you were talking about this being better than you imagined but he was stuck with the same realisation, you were a good kisser, had amazing give and take and of course the mental aspect, you were in a relationship but ready and willing, touching him, kissing him, it had him aching in his jeans. He started to tug on the bottom of your top and you broke the kiss in a hurry to free yourself of the constraining material. The sight of you in your bottoms and the pretty lace framing you up top turns him on so much more.

It progresses quickly after that. You spread below him on your back, your tongue parting his lips allowing his into your mouth, an action he completes with a small groan his wandering hands choosing to settle, particularly one finding its home between your thighs and you arched into his touch with a hushed, “Fuck yes.” 

He lets out a pleased hum, your hands work with his, removing the remaining clothing to give him better access and when there is the last layer between you and his touch he asks in a tone that is as humorous as it is sickeningly sweet, “Am I allowed to speak?” 

A hurried nod as you squirm, his fingers brush over you more firmly and he says, “You’re fucking drenched. I don’t think I’ve ever felt someone get this wet from just a little making out, how hard up for it are you?”

“Very.” Your breath hitches and he knows he’s found the right spot to focus on, fingers swirling over your straining clit through your damp panties. “Is he not doing what he should be?”

Your brain feels foggy, you are far more concerned with the sensation starting to wash over you, limbs feeling heavier, eyes half lidded and rocking your hips with the movement of his hand, “Who?”

He laughs, “Who? You already forgot all about him? That tells me everything I need to know that poor ol Meeks isn’t satisfying you.” Before any protest or defending of your boyfriend could leave your mouth he is tugging the crotch of your panties aside and feeling the bare heat of his fingers against you makes you gasp, head falling back against the arm of the couch. 

You try to push out what you wanted to say, try to tell him, “I-I didn’t forget M’ just, ugh, distracted, you-you’re distracting.”

“Awe yeah, I’m a really big distraction, do I make it hard to think?” He asks as his fingers pick up the pace, pressing more firmly you moan and nod, “Yes! You do.”

“I could make it worse.” He teases and he moves quickly. Still shirtless, in just his jeans he is on his knees and tugging you further down the length of the couch, underwear half on, your legs over his shoulders his head dips down and his strong but soft tongue licking that first stripe over your clit has you crying out with an arch of your back. 

He did make it worse. You couldn’t think properly as soon as the make out started, your mind was far too busy with him and the taste, feeling, the pleasure, it stole all logic and sense. With his lips wrapped around such a sensitive part of you, cradling your clit and sucking indulgently, pretty mouth latched on and tongue lathing over you between his lips, fingers digging into your hips and ass as he held you where he needed, you felt like you were threatening to fall apart in less than five fucking minutes. 

Panting out his name, heels digging into his well toned back, fingers scrambling against the corduroy like material of the couch cushions as the feeling built, if he kept this up you’d be cumming against his talented tongue in about two more minutes. Thighs squeezing his head as well as your erratic breathing clues him into how close your end is and he pulls back, the wet strand of spit, the leash connecting his mouth and your clit breaks as he moves back, his fingers take over, messy circles drawn and you whine as the edge backs off from the change in pressure and technique, “How are you doing up there?”

His own voice sounded rough with arousal, the knowledge that he is into this, getting off on eating you out makes another wash of arousal soak into your brain, heart still pounding as you tell him, “Good, so good, please Mickey, keep going.”

“Keep going?” He asks, his head resting on your inner thigh as his fingers continue to dance over your pulsing clit, your tongue darts out, wetting your bottom lip, a nod as your eyebrows draw together, “Yeah, please? I was getting close, an-and your mouth is, fuck, amazing.”

He preens under the praise, “Oh is it?” He is playing dumb as his thumb comes down and he pulls your clitoral hood up, nerve dense tissue exposed and vulnerable, he blows gently and you shiver, body tensing, Christ, how were you so sensitive that even air passing through his lips felt this good? 

“Ye-yeah, I wanna cum, please, please-” And he decided to tease you further still, he leaned in, tongue out and your eyes are wide, teeth tugging on your bottom lip, desperate to feel him again, for him to keep going, to push you over the edge. Less than an inch from contact he pulls back with a sigh, “I dunno-”

Your head tips back with a loud groan as you roll your eyes, “Fuuuuck, Mickey, c’mon, I’m dying over here!” 

“Yeah? Does it hurt, yet?” He asks and you do notice a distinct ache along your swollen walls, a throbbing pain of denial in your clit steadily building and how awfully empty you feel at this moment. 

“Starting to, yes.” You bite out and he says, “Maybe I should be nice and help you out.”

“Yes, please, please be nice to me.” You beg and with your head still back, staring up at the ceiling you are unprepared when he licks over you again, the yelp that leaves you makes him snicker before he says, “Sure, I’ll be nice, I’ll get you off.”

You ramble, babble out your thanks and his mouth is back where it should be, lips locked over your clit, licking, sucking, one of his hands sliding between your thighs and two fingers delve inside to aid further, you clench around them with a stuttered moan of his name. It takes about three minutes for you to be on the edge between him working your clit and his fingers fucking in and out of you, curling just so in and out again and again. “God, Mickey, don’t stop, don’t stop, M’ almost there-”

And then he does just that.

He stops, his fingers stay lodged inside of you, fingers pressed to that sweet spot he’d found with ease but no longer moving and you want to cry, you ask in completely frustration, “Mickey what the fuck?” 

“I know, I know, I told you I’d help you out and M’ gonna, soon as you give me something.” You are looking down the length of your body to him between your spread thighs and are just about ready to agree to anything so long as he’d make you cum. “What is it?”

The grin on his face is positively wolfish, he licks again over your clit and you inhale sharply, “Nothing big.” 

“No?” You ask and another lazy lick combined with a rock of his fingers he says, “No. I just want you to tell me I’m better than Randy is and I’ll make you cum your brains out.”

Your heart drops, you shake your head, for some reason, that wakes you up, makes the heat inside you cool, you feel like that is the line, that is too far, you say, “No, I-I can’t do that.”

He tsk’s, “Shit, guess you don’t want to cum that bad then.” He didn’t stop though. He didn’t pull away, far from it, he goes back to eating you out and fingering you he just kept fucking stopping before you could cum and he kept on posing that question, your juice painting his chin. 

“You wanna admit it yet?” And you kept on telling him, “No-no, I-I don’t ha-have anything to admit.” 

It made him laugh. He had two fingers three knuckles deep inside you, right now and felt your clit pulsing in pure frustrated need in his mouth less than two seconds ago but sure, you had nothing to admit. “I can feel how hot and worked up you are, how many times have I edged you already? You are a really, really bad fucking liar.” 

“M’ not lying!” You attempt to assert but your voice wavers, “No? So I’m not better than Randy? He makes you sweat and tremble like this before he’s ever even made you cum once?”

You bite the inside of your cheek and refuse to meet his gaze. You want to thread your fingers in that stupid sexy messy hair and grind on his tongue until he makes you cum, not have this stupid battle of wills.

“Mmm, yeah that is why you aren’t able to look at me, because I am so far off base.” He sounds unbearably smug and he slides his fingers out of you and you almost break, you want to sob and plead for him to continue but he is sucking the mess that had coated his fingers and you again feel your mind going blank at the visual. 

He is getting up and his erection pressed against the denim looks like it has to hurt, he was starting to undo his pants and said once he was standing at full height, “How about you return the favour though and see if your tune changes?”

That sounds way too appealing to you especially because you could pay him back with some torture of your own and torture you do. After taking in the sight of him bare, your mouth is practically watering, he looks frankly delicious and you intend to dine happily. Your hand locks around the base and you lean in, eyes staring up at his face as your tongue makes the first pass, intent on taking in his expression and how he reacts to the movement. It is positive to say the least, the slight inhale, the tensing of his muscles, and the small curse that spills out. Your tongue flicks over his flushed tip, tasting the ample pre-cum that he had been leaking, your lips close, a chaste kiss before you begin to move down one side of his shaft, he is impossibly hot and throbbing in your grip. 

This is going to be too easy. 

Is what you initially thought but you would also be very wrong, because even as you let him breach your mouth, even as you begin to suck and take more of him in, you don’t feel in control or empowered. You feel weaker and hotter, he made you feel so fucking good with seemingly such little effort that you being able to do the same, to pull such reactions out of him makes you want consider his previous offer more seriously. 

You try to push those thoughts away as you blow him.

You gag yourself, choke on him and it makes him groan your name, his hips buck, he fucks in and out of your lips stretched around him and drool slips out, slides down your neck as you hold his hip with one hand, the other around the base of him still, hand working him in tandem with your mouth. You look up again, his eyes are still on you, on the length of him sliding between your slick lips, his neck and chest blooming red, flush from pleasure painted over his features as he pants and you squeeze your thighs together. 

All in all you used your mouth on him for around five minutes before you break, pulling him out you ask, out of breath and needy, “Fuck me?”

Randy is coming inside after going to get himself some breakfast, it’s around ten AM, sun shining and he is carrying a stack of mail and thinking about giving you a call soon to make up for him bailing last night. The movie was a good time but he missed you, he didn’t do much after the movie, came back here and went to bed basically, he thinks you will probably be up soon. He is about to sit down on the couch when something catches his eye, namely, a tape half in half out of the VCR. He comes forward, he pulls the tape out and there are no markings whatsoever on it, odd. 

He is curious enough that he thinks why not, he shrugs and pops the tape in, he walks back around the coffee table and is flipping through the mail again but what he hears gives him pause, makes him stop. 

Hearing a very familiar modulated voice greeting him, “Hello Randy. Been a while. Seems like some stuff has changed for you, like the cute girlfriend, she’s new. I like what I have seen of her, how much I have seen of her, thought you’d be interested to see what she was up to last night that I managed to catch on video.”

And the voice over cuts out and instead he is hearing your voice, gasping out, “Mickey oh my fucking God-”

He pauses flipping through and looks up and what he sees playing out on the screen makes him gasp.

The video shows a well lit apartment, the main focus of the shot is a couch, the view is from the side and bent over the arm of the couch pointing at the lens is you, not a stitch of clothing on, fingers digging into blue fabric, open mouthed and moaning, with who the fuck else but Mickey Altieri behind you. He was fucking you and seemingly you were loving every second of it, your face twisted in bliss and rocking back onto him, “Yes, yes, yes-”

“Good?” He asked with a laugh and your head pitches forward, a shaky nod and you hum the affirmative, “Mmhm!” 

“Yeah it is, fuck you’re tight.”  His hand reaches out, he grabs your hair, wraps the handful around his fist and he tugs hard, you cry out and clench down on him making him suck his own teeth from the sharp jolt of pleasure, he is pulling your hair so your head snaps back up, making sure he is showing off your gorgeous expressions for the camera. 

Little did you know that when he passed by the camera set on the counter earlier to grab his bootleg he turned it on, that it had been running this whole time. It didn’t take much to edit it, or to add the voice over or for him to sneak it into Randy’s apartment either, honestly it was too easy if anything. 

Randy had dropped the mail and was slowly sitting down, he can’t stop watching as you rock yourself back, helping impale yourself on Mickey and moaning the whole way. His hand that wasn’t pulling your hair is sliding down and the cry that tears from your throat makes what he is doing obvious, fucking you doggy style and toying with your clit at the same time has you telling him in a few more thrusts, “Shit, oh, ohh Mickey, fuck, I-I’m close again, fuck-” 

“You gonna give it up? You gonna say what we both know is true?” He prompts and you shake your head, “I-I cah-can’t, Mickey, just, let me cum, please-”

“Not till you say it.” His hand is out of your hair and laying a hard hit onto your ass that makes your back arch and finally you can’t take it any longer, your confession pours out, “You’re better than him okay?! Fuck, fuck! You’re so, so much better tha-than Randy, make me feel so good, he-he’s a joke next to you, God, don’t stop!” 

“Oh there you go, see? Doesn’t being honest feel so, fucking, good?” Those last three words are bookended by a brutal thrust, another strong move of his fingers and finally you break, nodding along, agreeing as you cum chanting his name over and over like some broken and fucked up prayer, trembling the entire time as the pleasure tears through you and threatens to make you collapse. 

“What the fuck…” Randy asks quietly as he continues to watch the scene unfold, watch as Mickey keeps railing you totally dumb and you agree with all the fucked up things he asks, drooling and telling him, “You’re so good, so much better, keep, ah, keep fucking me, please!”

“You think I’m able to stop now? Not a fucking chance.” 

He can’t bring himself to turn it off. Even as you continue to insult him, even as Mickey makes you parrot back that Randy is quote, “A shit fuck-ing boyfriend who doesn’t deserve you.” 

When you say it though it sounds a lot more broken and pathetic, "He-he's a shit fu-fuck-ing boyfriend who-who doesn't deserve meeee-"

Randy gets shamefully, embarrassingly, painfully hard as Mickey fucks you harder and harder, fucks you through another two more orgasms and a few more good position changes. Watching you ride him while he has a hand locked around your throat is hard to take, but the worst has to be when Mickey has his arms wrapped around you, fucking up into you and you are just trying to take it, legs shaking and too weak to do anything else but cling to and kiss him as he has you, as he holds you. That sloppy kiss is broken, your eyes squeezed shut as you are telling him for the fourth time since the tape started, “Mickey, I’m close again, God, yes!”

And not only do you cum, not only do you sob out his name as Mickey’s hard dick slips in and out of your well fucked hole, no, you end up squirting too, something Randy didn’t even know your body was capable of. Your moan bleeds, cracks at the edges and the man fucking you laughs, a blissed out joyful sound of disbelief, “Holy shit!” 

The amount that comes out of you is impressive, he watches as the camera picks up the rivulets of liquid as they race down Mickey’s shaft and his sac and the quickly darkening stain under the pair of you as he doesn’t relent even for a moment. Mickey kisses you, deeply, sloppy and to add further insult to injury, after you are coming down from your orgasm, he breaks that same kiss he initiated and asked, “Randy ever make you squirt like that?”

And you laugh, eyes rolling back and a shake of your head as you breathlessly admit, dumb and cock drunk as you tell him, “No way, not once.” 

The tape doesn’t even stop there, it goes on until Mickey is the one warning you minutes later of his impending orgasm and it is like you become possessed, your hands lock behind his neck, a burst of energy, motivated, you ride with abandon and Mickey doesn’t even have to ask, you are too far gone, you are the one who begs, “Cum inside, don’t pull out!”

He should get up.

He should turn off the tv.

He should take out the tape and smash it to bits but no, he does none of those things. He watches helplessly as Mickey’s hands grip your hips so hard Randy bet’s they will bruise as he holds deep and unloads inside of you. Mickey let out a groan of your name and you shiver and Randy is sure you can feel every pulse of him as he fills you. 

The come down is sickeningly and stomach turningly intimate, he feels as if he is intruding on a private moment even though you are his girlfriend. He watches the kisses passed back and forth, the soft touches and he is about to wonder when the tape WILL finally cut when he hears that mocking voice of Ghostface again, “Pretty hot, huh? I think they make a good couple, what about you Meeks? You enjoy the sequel?”

And the screen goes black.

He sits there staring at the tv set for all of thirty seconds before he gets up and goes over. He doesn’t hesitate to hit rewind. He should talk to you, confront you about what happened, what this means, what you did but when the tape finishes rewinding he doesn’t do that. 

He takes his original seat and frees himself from his pants and guilty enjoys the second of what is sure to be many viewings with his dick hard and hot in his palm.

[freak-accident419]

Good Looking Boy

Billy (Burn 2019) x GN!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary: On a chilly December night, you and Billy catch up. Then, you make an important decision.

Word Count: 3.1k

Content: gender neutral reader, fluff, cursing, alcohol, mention of holidays (gift giving), slight suggestive comment

(A/n: thank you to everyone for all your support for this short multiple-part fic! It means so much to me! I hope I did its finale justice :) also credit to the person who suggested a bar scene !)

-

You watched him take a short sip of his beer as you fidgeted with your bottle.

You two agreed that you would catch up at this bar at the corner of the street when you were done with your shift. It has only been a few weeks since you’ve last seen him, but it felt like forever to you, hence the slight awkwardness in the atmosphere.

“So… did you pay off your debt…?” You ask hesitantly, continuing to fidget with the beer bottle in front of you. You finally looked at him, observing his brown eyes softening at the sight of you. The right side of his face was still scarred by the second-degree burn that hot coffee gave him. But you’ve only ever seen him like this, and so, to you, he still looked as handsome as he was since you last saw him.

“Yeah, I… I paid them off,” he answered bluntly.

“And the thing with the bikers? Are you… on good terms with them now?”

In response, he let out a scoff and a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

“Ugh, dude, what did you do?” You say with exasperation, though amused by his lighthearted manner.

“They wanted the money, but, um… They all sort of… still hate me, so… those assholes gave me a warning: if they see my face again, they’ll kill me, so…” He trails off, taking a fairly tame swig of alcohol before he continues. You noticed that he seemed calmer since you’ve last seen him. As if he worked on himself, his temper, and spontaneous vulgarity. You admired that. “I’m gonna have to go. Unwillingly leave town, you know.”

“Damn,” you mutter, briefly sipping your drink. “That was your initial plan anyways though, right? To, like, just leave this place?”

He let out a soft sigh, which slightly puzzled you. Why did he seem so disappointed?

“Before I was on my way to meet up with them, I just… I got the idea that maybe I just shouldn’t leave. I thought that, um… leaving someplace that’s, uh… desirable… would be a very idiotic thing for me to do,” he explains, only baffling you even more.

“Okay? But you said it yourself, after you paid them off, you wanted to leave town and start anew, have a fresh start. What makes Upstate New York so… great, I guess, that you don’t want to leave?” You inquire with a lighthearted chuckle.

He fidgets with his beer bottle anxiously before looking back at you to answer. “You…”

You were stunned. You opened your mouth slightly to respond, but no words came out. You didn’t know him too well—but after an hour of being stuck together, you knew him enough, at the very least. But why did you have such an impact on him? You guessed that you had an indubitable liking for him too—similar to a childlike crush, though fueled solely by shared trauma. But you never really thought of it that much until now.

“Billy, I…” you stuttered out. “I… I mean… You had a whole plan, I… I just don’t understand. I like you, Billy, but… why should I be the reason you would want to stay here? You don’t really know me…”

“Well…” He wanted to argue that you two already learned a lot about each other from the time you’ve spent together, but even he realized it would be faulty reasoning. “Fuck, I want to get to know you better, then,” he urged gently.

He looked down at your hands, which were on the table near your drink. He reached his hands towards yours hesitantly, giving you a look by the raise of his eyebrows that asked for your permission. You nodded, watching him finally grab your hands, observing your one wrist, in which the bruise from the zip tie was completely gone. He tenderly rubbed his thumb over your wrists and palms. You felt the warm metal of his ring run against your skin as he would move his index finger. The slightly red dent on his wrist that you last saw on the day you escaped had also disappeared entirely. So it seemed like the only thing that followed him—the only thing that haunted him ever since the gas station, was his burn scar.

“I just…” he began, continuing to look down at your hands as he caressed them. It was something he did a lot, you noticed. You think it calmed him down. “I don’t know why I’m so… pulled to you. It’s fucking stupid, I know, and I’ve probably sounded like a dumbass this entire time, but… I mean it when I say I want to get to know you.”

You stared down at your hands in his, unsure of how you felt. “Well… The bikers, they said that they were gonna kill you if they see your face again. That’s, like… implying they want you out of town. You have to go, Billy. You can’t, shit, risk your life for me.”

“That’s why I want you to run away with me,” he urged softly.

“Billy—”

“I want you to come with me,” he pleads. In his mind, Billy thought it was quite ironic how he wanted you to go with him so badly; he rejected Melinda almost immediately when she asked to go with him. But this was different. You weren’t Melinda. You were you. And he desperately wanted to leave with you. But there seemed to be no way for that to happen.

“Billy, we already talked about this. I… I can’t just leave everything I have here behind,” you reason. “Plus, it’s been weeks ever since I last saw you. You had all this time to come see me, where have you been?”

He pursed his lips. “After the bikers gave me a few ‘friendly’ warning shots, I sort of left immediately. I just kept going west. Stayed in a couple motels. But it just… felt wrong, you know? I felt empty and… fuck, out of place… So, I guess I just… came back here to see you one more time…” he confessed, making your heart beat faster and face warmer. Nobody has ever done this grand of a gesture for you. You almost felt bad. You had made a deep connection with him back at the gas station, and suddenly you were worth a lot to him. “Shit, I… I honestly couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wanted to, because I knew it would be… really fucking bad if I tried to come back, but… You were always on my mind. Every second, I… thought about your laughter, and your voice, and I didn’t want to forget it. And-and most of all, you saved my life.” You frowned, because you considered it as a team effort, rather. “Something finally good in my life, for the first fucking time, happened to me and I can’t just—just stand by and let it just leave while I could do something about it.”

You were surprised, to say the least. You never knew you could be this important to someone, let alone someone you’ve only been around with for less than a day. “Billy, I—” You stammered with fluster. “I have to admit, I thought about you multiple times ever since. I sort of always wished I’d run into you whenever I went to a gas station. I think I even dreamed about you multiple times… To be honest, I always thought what would’ve happened if I said yes before and left with you.” He felt your thumb trace delicately along the back of his hand. “Never thought I’d ever think of a gas station robber as handsome and charming.” He chuckled softly in response, his lips forming into a cute, flattered smile.

“I love that you’re here, really. I love that you came back to see me,” You told him. “But… like I said, I can’t come with you.” You would love to, however, you knew it. But you couldn’t just leave everything you had here behind… Could you?

He sighed softly. “Okay, I understand,” he says. “But shit, just… Let me get to know you better before I have to leave for sure. Please. How about I just take you for a drive, then? Just around the block?”

Billy was heavily insistent. After all, he always goes for what he wants.

“The both of us have been drinking, Billy,” you say with guilt. You hated constantly rejecting him. You did want to get to know him better, you did want to spend time with him, but the circumstances and motives were utterly complicated.

You chuckled a bit, however, sort of amused by how much he wanted to be around you. “I don’t know, you can’t just, like… enjoy the moment right now?” You ask as you two look back down at your hands, which were being gently rubbed against each other, Billy’s thumb caressing the back of your hand.

“I don’t know if that’s gonna be enough for me, Y/n,” he claimed dejectedly.

“Why don’t we just take a walk, then? To, like, the nearest park or something,” you offer, feeling his warm fingertips glide softly over your nails. “We could… We could do that.”

After thinking about it for a second, he nodded compliantly.

***

It was supposed to be dark outside, however the street lamps nearby and string lights across buildings liberally illuminated the area. It has been probably half an hour since you two sat down on a park bench, just speaking to each other with occasional banter. That was probably the strongest thing you had with him: communication. Just talking about random things that led to discovering more things about one another. You’d done that while you were tied up together after all. It was how you mainly connected in that moment.

That was another thing, however. You weren’t forced in proximity anymore, but you two still wanted more of each other. Even if you didn’t show it. Your rejection did quite a number on Billy’s belief that his feelings were reciprocated, but as you two proceeded to laugh and talk together, it was reinforced.

“Okay… Quentin Tarantino.” You raise an eyebrow, grinning as you watched your warm breath escape your lips in a hazy, white mist.

“Damn. That one foot fetish guy?” he laughed.

“Yeah, the—the foot fetish guy,” you chuckle softly.

“Okay, easy, Pulp Fiction,” he answered. Met with your silence, he looked at you and you shook your head, smiling. “No?”

“No, I wouldn’t make it that obvious—”

“Kill Bill.”

“N—”

“Volume one or two?” You grin as he continued to guess wrong in your game. “Seriously, none of those?”

“From Dusk Til Dawn?” He nearly pouted, it was adorable. “I give up.”

“Jackie Brown. C’mon, man,” you snicker.

He playfully rolled his eyes, scoffing, making you giggle.

This was something you two did back at Paradise Pumps as well, while tied up and exhausted. You made a little game where you basically had to think of a movie and the other had to guess it by only knowing the name of its director.

He smiles softly as he looks at you, but then it gradually dropped, as the recurring thought that he would never see you again invaded his mind once more.

“You good?” You ask reluctantly, seeing his facial expression change.

“Yeah, I just…”

“You don’t want to leave me?” You finish his sentence with a sigh, seeing him nod in response. “It’s not so bad, Billy. You could leave, settle down, start a new life and leave behind all that crime and… biker gang beef,” you offer a small laugh before you continue.

“You could find somebody who is worthier than me. Someone who you didn’t bond with through shared trauma and forced proximity. Someone who would leave everything behind just for you, unlike me.” You wish you could, honestly. What was really stopping you? Fear? Guilt?

Billy scoffs as he listened to your statements, deeming them as bullshit. “Y/n, respectfully, shut the fuck up.” Your eyebrows raise in bewilderment. “I don’t want someone else, okay? I want you... Just you.”

Your heart nearly stopped and you looked at him with sole adoration for him.

And you had no idea what came over you in this moment, because once you heard him say this, you immediately pressed your lips to his, while hesitantly bringing your hands up to his face to gently hold it.

You heard his breath hitch as he soon melts into the kiss, moving his lips with yours and holding onto your wrists. His lips were soft and warm, and he was being nothing but gentle with you. You felt the the tender skin of his burn against your fingertips, your delicate and careful touch soothing him.

You weren’t sure what kind of confidence boost let you do something so impulsive as kissing someone. But the entire night, Billy had been relentlessly winning over your heart, expressing his immense admiration for you. You fell for him. And you had to do something about that.

“Fuck, you know, that…” he began hoarsely once your lips have separated, yet your faces were still very close to each other, switching back and forth from looking deeply into one’s eyes to their lips. “That was fucking evil. That just made it even harder for me to leave you,” he stressed as you two let out small, quiet chuckles.

He convinced you enough, you thought. What did you really have to lose…?

Or, rather, what would you gain?

“You don’t have to,” your voice was slightly raspy as you spoke with a smirk.

And what you would say next had marked your decision. “I’m coming with you, cowboy.”

He parted his lips in shock, so before he could say anything, you just kissed him again, deeply and affectionately, as you couldn’t help but smile in the kiss. You felt him pull you closer by the waist in a fairly strong grip, as if you were to disappear if he let you go. It was a sweet and affectionate kiss, the two of you expressing your admiration and fondness for each other. It was supposed to be cold, hell, it was December in New York. But you couldn’t help but feel pure warmth each second your kiss remained.

*** Two Weeks Later ***

“Open it,” you giggle softly.

“Seriously, when did you get the time to wrap a whole ass gift when we’ve been, like, on the road together this whole time?” Billy says with a smile as he examines the thin, neatly wrapped box in his hands.

“I found a service. While you were preoccupied. Now shut up. Happy Holidays. Open the damn thing.”

It’s been about two weeks since you agreed with leaving with him. After resigning from your job, you basically packed your bags and savings and he picked you up. You two didn’t face any problems so far as you traveled east. You only had an increased admiration for each other, as well as mutual understandings.

Now, you were in an empty parking lot, keeping warm inside the car during the evening. You surprised him with a wrapped gift for the holidays.

You watched him rip off the wrapping paper, making you involuntarily laugh as you saw his expression of disbelief, represented by his playful scoff and the rolling of his eyes.

‘Never Get Angry Again: The Foolproof Way to Stay Calm and in Control in Any Conversation or Situation’ by David J. Lieberman, PhD

He raised his eyebrows as he read over the cover of the anger management book and presented it to you. “Seriously?”

You snicker impishly as you see an amused smile creep at the corner of his lips. “Told you I would, didn’t I?”

“You are terrible,” Billy joked endearingly with a low chuckle.

“I know,” you retort cunningly, reaching over the center console of the car to give him a soft peck on the lips.

“But you have to admit, Y/n, I have been working on myself ever since,” he points out, making you scoff.

“Yeah, but you totally lashed out on that one guy when we were at that convenience store in Pittsburgh,” you insist.

“Okay, well, in my defense, I really didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he shrugged with a knowing grin.

“Damn, should I have gotten you a book on jealousy as well?” you sneer.

“Hey, watch it,” he warned playfully.

“You know what, yeah, you’re right. I digress,” you concur nonchalantly. “If it weren’t for him getting an intense reaction out of you, then you wouldn’t have taken me straight to the bathroom and—”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” he chuckled softly as you laughed at your own delivery. “Just…” He reached in the back, grabbing a brown box that was sealed with clear tape. “Open your gift. Sorry I didn’t have the time to wrap it, like, I still have no idea how you had the time to do it behind my back, but yeah.”

He handed you his keys so you could rip the tape, then you opened the box, being met with styrofoam packaging. You removed the top layer, and then let out a small gasp as you saw the object, taking it in your hands.

It was a small Albany, New York snow globe. You were beaming as you shook it, watching the “snow” fall down on the capitol building.

“I thought you’d be homesick, so I snatched it right before we left,” he explained, smiling as he sees your reaction.

“Oh my god, Billy, it’s perfect,” you say in awe, then reach over the center console again to hug him tightly, feeling his arms wrap around you. “Thank you so much,” you say, kissing him deeply on his lips.

“‘F course, Y/n,” he mumbled sweetly, affectionately returning your kisses.

“You’re perfect,” you nearly whispered as you set the snow globe back in the box so your hands were free to hold his face. He always loved when you would do that. It brought a sort of comfort to him, making him feel safe and secure. He leaned into your touch as you kissed the right side of his face—his forehead and cheek—which were the areas that had been mildly burnt.

“Even when I robbed a gas station?” He asked under his breath, raising an eyebrow.

“Seriously?”

He always had a problem with being defined and associated with criminality, so you found it quite ironic for him to point it out.

“I’m fucking with you.”

You shove him playfully, which only resulted in him bringing you into an intense, deep kiss. “You are so perfect too, you know that?” He mutters softly. “I’m so fucking glad you came with me.” He artfully grabbed your hand and looked at you intimately as he pressed a gentle kiss to your wrist—the one that was zip tied to his. The one where the bruise on it had now been fully healed and gone.

“Me too,” you murmur ardently.

[missdawnandherdusk]

All Good Things to Those Who Wait

Draco x Hufflepuff!Reader

There goes the last great American dynasty

Who knows if she never showed up, what could have been

There goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen

She had a marvelous time ruinin' everything

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4

Chapter 5   Chapter 6   Chapter 7   Chapter 8

Chapter 9   Chapter 10   Chapter 11  Chapter 12

The Chapter That Never Happened  Chapter 13

Chapter 14  Chapter 15

Summary: tying up some loose ends :)

A/n: *emerges from the void*

Everything has an ending. The best stories, and the worst ones. Looking back at my story, there was no better ending I could have asked the stars for. I lost people I loved but I also stood for what I believed in and led an army to victory. No one would forget what had happened in those days. The days of the Great War. 

But what is life without tying up a few loose ends. You’ve come with me this far on this journey, and now as I look back, perhaps there are some things that you’d like to know. Some conversations you’d like to hear. Some people you’d like to meet or see again. So, here are those loose ends, tied together.

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

I stepped onto the porch of my childhood home. It was in the efforts to try and find my mother, and try to find some peace and meaning after the past years. Draco came with me, at my side. 

“She’s not here,” I sighed, knowing before we even stepped foot in the house that my mother wasn’t waiting for me. “And somehow that hurt’s more,” 

“She’ll come in her own time love,” Draco soothed. Maybe he was right, or maybe I’d always be searching for her in the stars like I looked for my father. 

Draco and I sat on the porch that night, watching the sun set and the fireflies come to life in the meadow that blanketed around us. 

“You cast a patronus,” Draco said as I laid my head on his shoulder, watching the wildflowers dance in the wind. 

“I know,” A smile touched my lips. 

“It was a dragon,”

“Yeah,” I took his hand into mine, thinking back to the first night Draco cast his own patronus with my father’s wand. How things had changed since then. “My mother always told me that one day I’d find my patronus and it would watch over me like my father,” 

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. 

“I don’t think you need anyones protection,” The humor in his voice gave way to the smile that I couldn’t see. 

“It’s still nice to have someone beside me—to fight alongside me,” 

He was quiet a moment before airing his doubts. “Do you think that maybe…” I knew where he was going with the thought, because it had been chipping at the back of my mind. 

“Because they’re so different we’re not meant to be together?” I mused, finishing his worried thought. 

“Yeah,” He sighed.

“No,” I sat up, facing him. “I think they’re just right for us. I’ve thought about it—more than I should. But in reality… if we think about it, your lion,” 

“Aslan,” Draco’s fingers brushed over my locket. A smile crept to my lips and I nodded. 

“And the first task,” 

“The what?” I had caught him off guard, a beautiful sight to behold. 

“Our fourth year, that first task of the tournament.” Realization struck him. 

“Our patronus’ show the start of us—when we really first started to trust each other.” I took his hand back into mine. “They’re not so different after all,” 

He laughed without fear and kissed me softly, before pulling me closer. “The start of us,” Draco mused, and maybe he could see them like I could: a younger me standing there, skeptically looking at a younger Draco. Before the war, before the long nights, secret kiss, tears, laughter, love and loss. Two kids who took a chance. 

When the sun cleared the horizon and its final rays fading, Draco and I headed inside—to the empty house that still promised to protect me. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a knock on the door. In the week that we had been here, no one had disturbed out haven. No one knew we were here.

Draco looked up from his book. I dislodged myself from the couch and his arms, and went to answer the door, on guard. I stared at the one standing before me, not knowing how to quite process it. 

“Hi, mum,” I whispered. 

“Hello,” 

Time stilled around us. Everything came rushing to the surface only to be stopped by my unparted lips. One thought escaped. 

“I did it,” my voice was barely audible. 

“I’m so proud of you,” 

Tears stung my eyes. After all was said and done relief flooded through me more than anger did. Perhaps it was the peace that blanketed the Wizarding world that calmed my hurt. 

“Mum,” My voice broke into tears. Amity wrapped around us as—after years—I got a hug from my mother. 

“I’m so sorry, honey,” She whispered, stroking my hair. “I’m so sorry,” 

I nodded into her shoulder, letting all of my bottled-up tears come out. All of the stresses from war and the nightmares that plagued me at night—my mother was still there to hold me tight. It didn’t matter that I was still hurting from wounds she inflicted, to know she was there, willing to hold me tight, and call me hers was enough. 

“Y/n, are you—” Draco came out and paused. I pulled away from my mother and looked at him. He gave me a soft smile and nodded, heading back into the house. 

“Is he upset with me?” My mother asked. I laughed hopelessly. 

“I don’t know,” I said, wiping away my tears. 

“Are you?” She asked. 

“I don’t know,” My voice softened. “There’s so much right now… so much to sort through…” 

“There is.” She didn’t deny it, and maybe it was comforting that someone outside of my peers acknowledged that I had been through a lot, and in turn that had caused a lot of heavy burdens on my heart and soul. 

My gaze drifted back to hers. 

“Do you wanna come in?” I asked. 

She shook her head. “That’s not what you want, nor need,” Reaching our she placed per hand on my arm, soothing me before I could argue. “I’ll be around if you need me, but until then, the house is for you—it always has been. Build a life,” She smiled and looked through the window—probably at where Draco was inevitably spying on us. “You’ve found a good one,” 

A smile touched my lips. 

“Thanks mum,” 

My mother inhaled sharply and nodded. “I’ll be off then,” Turning to go down the porch stairs, she paused. “He would be so proud of you,” 

Tears burned my eyes again, as I wrapped my arms around her, needing her to hold me just once more before I could let her go. Because in her arms was also the love of my father that was taken from me too soon by this war. A war that I saw an end to. And maybe in that moment, the war within me ended too. I wasn’t the daughter of a Death Eater and a member of the Order of the Phoenix. I was the daughter of Walt and Elizabeth. And that was enough

“Goodbye my love,” My mother said softly. “I’ll always be around.” 

“Bye mum,” I smiled as she wiped away my tears. “I love you,” 

“I love you too sweetheart,” 

I waved goodbye, and with a spell, she was gone. I turned to go inside. The door clicked softly behind me. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Professor McGonagall?” My brows pulled together. “Not to be rude, but what are you doing here?” 

“This is a summons for you,” She held out a parchment, the usual stern look on her face was replaced with pity. 

I took the parchment and opened it, scanning the delicate print. My heart sank. 

“This is… this—“ I gaped. 

“I’m afraid so,” McGonagall sighed. “There was nothing I could do,” 

“Draco?” I called into the house. He was beside me in a moment. I handed him the parchment. “This is serious?” She nodded again. 

“I’m sorry my dear,” 

“A court summons? They’re putting her in trial!?” Draco demanded. 

“Kingsley is very set on it. And he is the new Minister,” 

“I saved the school! I helped defeat the Dark Lord! I—really!?” Tears pricked my eyes. 

“There’s got to be some mistake,” Draco insisted. “She’s not a Death Eater, she doesn’t even have the mark!” 

“I’m sure that the ministry will see that, but I’m afraid that I cannot do anything about the summons,” 

I scrubbed my face and sighed. “Thank you Professor. Can I invite you in for some tea?” 

“That’s very kind dear, but I’m afraid I must be on my way,” She bowed slightly then disaperated from the porch. 

I stood there a while, lost in my thoughts. Draco gave me a gentle squeeze and kissed the crown of my head before disappearing inside. My feet took me off the wood of the porch and into the softness of the grass. I sank to the ground beside a fence post. The sun began to set. My eyes watched the horizon. Millions of thoughts swirled around my mind with no discernible direction. 

Was there even a case for me to be innocent? Is this what everything I had worked for come to? To be seen as a criminal for holding a crumbling cause together? 

____________________

“Where is she?” Abby asked, helping Pansy through the fireplace. 

“Out front, watching the sunset,” Draco sighed, opening the front door. “She’s been out there a while,” 

“Can’t imagine why,” Pansy muttered. “They’re seriously putting her on trial?” 

“Yep,” Draco sighed. “All this time I thought I’d be the one, and yet…” 

“I’ll go talk to her,” Abby kissed Pansy’s cheek. “You guys get to work,” 

“Thank you, both,” Relief flooded Draco’s voice. 

Abby snagged an old afghan off the back of the armchair and went out through the small meadow. She draped the blanket around your shoulders and sat beside you in the grass. You laid your head on her shoulder. She could see the dried tear tracks on your cheeks. 

“How—how could they do this?” Your weak voice held deep betrayal. 

“I don’t know,” Abby answered honestly, taking your hand into hers. “But we’re not going to let them get away with it.” 

“I don’t—I can’t defend myself in court—I,” You dissolved into tears. “Haven’t I done enough?” 

“More than enough,” Abby affirmed. “Don’t worry, we’re gonna work it out—you’ll see,” 

“How?” You asked. 

“Well, you’ve gathered quite a few allies who owe you once or twice,” Abby pointed out. “And others who just love you anyway. Draco and Pansy are working on it now,” 

“Wha—what?” 

“We’re gonna build your case,” Abby promised. “And get you acquitted.”  

“They’re…” A sad laugh left your lips. You laid back on the grass. Abby knew you were searching for the first stars in twilight. 

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Abby smiled at you. “Just rest,” 

The days past and my trial date approached like a storm on the horizon—but whether it was just rain or a hurricane, I couldn’t tell. Draco assured me that it would all be okay—he tried to tell me about everything done to build my case, but I wasn’t interested. Grateful, thoroughly, but I knew that if I learned anything about it, I would pick it up myself and try to fix it and my weary heart couldn’t handle that and keep beating like it was supposed to. 

So, I dressed smartly and took Draco’s hand before we took the Floo to the Ministry. I kept my head low, and tears at bay. 

Though Draco, Abby and Pansy accompanied me into the court room, I had to sit alone for the trial. The distance was drowning. I sat in the hard wooden chair, facing malice and prejudices. Kingsley looked almost predatory, as if he could pin the entire war on my shoulders, casting the blame on me. 

I flinched as the charges were read against me. The list of dead was longer than I thought. I didn’t dwell on the days of the Battle of Hogwarts, nor the events that occurred. They haunted me in my dreams, make no mistake, but what was real and what was a nightmare I lost the ability to discern. 

Was that much blood really on my hands? 

My faith in myself began to waver. Maybe I did deserve to be locked up. A few years in Azkaban with dementors sucking my life force might make me forget what I had done. 

Surprise flickered on my face as I saw Remus Lupin stand to my defense as an attorney. It was the first time that I had actually taken note of who was in the room. There had to be at least thirty people all gathered behind Draco and Pansy that I could see—more filed out the door in the back. All faces of those I loved, I had fought beside, I had grown up with. 

The static in my ears tuned in and out of Lupin and Kingsley conversing. It wasn’t until their voices raised to shouting that the static was drowned out. My eyes flickered up from he thread in my hands. 

“She cast unforgivables! She killed! She’s dangerous!”

“Death Eaters who were threatening our lives! The lives of wizard kind everywhere! She stopped a genocide!” Remus shouted back, obviously frustrated. “She showed remarkable strength and courage in a time of great darkness, and you will not diminish that.” 

“They are unforgivables! We have laws for a reason!”

“If I may,” McGonagall stood and the entire room quieted. “That list of names that you read was a long list of Death Eaters who have either escaped from Azkaban, or are known Death Eaters and have killed before. Miss Y/n had very hard decisions to make. The ministry found itself incompetent for lack of a better word. She, along with her friends, engineered an army to face the Dark Lord. Over the years what she went through has turned her into who she is today. She fought along side the other heroes who stand before you. She will be counted among them. You would not punish an Auror for the same thing and you will not punish her.”

“But—” Kingsley was red in the face. 

“If you put her in jail, you put the rest of the rebellion too,” The voice that piped up from the crowd surprised me. It was Harry. He stood and all eyes went to him. “Without her, I never would have been able to defeat Voldemort. Dozens more would be dead. You send her to Azkaban… then you’ll send me too,” A hushed gasp filled the room. A small one escaped my own lips.

“Mr. Potter,” Kingsley tried to regain control of the room. 

“And me,” Abby spoke up. 

“And me,” Neville stood. 

Soon everyone around me was standing on my behalf. Pansy, Luna, Ginny, all of the Weasleys actually, Ernie, Hannah, Emme, Blaise, Draco, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Fleur, Tonks, Remus, McGonagall, Moody, Sprout, Flitwick, and others I couldn’t see in the vast room. Kingsley faltered at the large defense behind me. 

“You send her then you send each one of us,” Harry spoke clearly. “I’m your stupid chosen one, even if she did something wrong, don’t I have clearance to pardon her or something?” 

A smile crossed my face. Intense silence stretched on consuming time and space until it was suffocating me. 

“Very well,” Kingsley sank back into his chair. “Y/n you have been cleared of all charges and sentencing. You are free to go,” 

Relief flooded through me as the room erupted in cheers. I met Draco’s eyes and he was smiling with pride. I collapsed back into that wooden chair in tears. There was a swarm of people around me, all making sure that I was alright, but they all parted for Draco to reach me. 

“Love?” He asked softly, kneeling before me. “I’m here,” He pulled me into his arms and we shared the embrace of lovers. As I exhaled, the weight of the world fell to the floor. 

I was free. 

I was acquitted. 

Now, I just had to find my innocence. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Draco?” It was a crisp autumn morning. He looked up from the newspaper. “I’ve been thinking,” 

He smiled and set down the paper, giving me his full attention. I almost wished he didn’t. 

“I… I know it’s been a long road here… and since we’ve met it’s kinda been hell.” A sad laugh left my lips. “There’s a whole world out there Draco,” My eyes flickered to the willow growing outside the kitchen window. 

“Yeah?” He prompted softly. 

“Don’t you want to go see it? Be young and reckless and not have to feel like—like you’re running an entire school?” I gestured. 

“I do,” He confessed softly. “We are still young Y/n, we have a long life ahead of us,” 

“…You still want it with me?” I felt as if the oxygen was being vacuumed from my lungs. “We were just kids when we met Draco. We went through a war together—and now it’s over. The war. You don’t have to stay here,” This house was just as haunted as I was.

“What—where is this coming from?” Draco stood, rounding the small breakfast table. “I want to be with you. I want to share my life with you,” He took my hands into his. “So, let’s go travel the world together—learn who we are outside of the war.” 

Hope sparked in my chest. “Really?” 

He laughed softly. “Oh my darling, you are one of my best friends, I’ll go anywhere with you,” His words lured me to melt into his warm embrace. We sat on the kitchen floor. He stroked my hair softly. 

“Just for a while,” I mumbled. “There’s so much we haven’t seen,” 

“I know,” The smile was evident in his voice. “And it’s going to be incredible—and we’re going to learn how to heal along the way,” I nodded into his shoulder. 

“I was thinking about maybe even living muggle for a little bit,” The confession was a weight from my shoulders. “I need space.” 

“Okay,” His soft agreeable caught me off guard. “I think it would be good for both of us actually. And maybe even fun,” 

I laughed softly as tears formed in my eyes. Leaning against him I watched the morning sun move across the wooden floor. 

“I love you,” I whispered softly. “And if you… if I’m not…”

“Hush,” it was a soft reprimand. “I think you’re right. We need time away from it all. To find who we are away from it all,” 

I nodded and rested my head on his shoulder. 

“We’ll come back,” I promised. 

“I know we will,” Draco smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Knowing you, you’ll want to come back and help build a better system,” 

My cheeks flushed red. I hadn’t told anyone about my ideas to make Hogwarts better—to make the Ministry better, hell to even make Azkaban better. It was time for things to change. I smiled to myself. Maybe I was more rebellious than I thought. 

And yet, Draco knew—he knew all the little plans in my head that were hidden just for me. Being known felt like belonging—and I belonged with him. 

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

Traveling with Draco would always be saved in my memories until I died, and when it started to slip, it would be saved into a pensieve. I wouldn’t forget. 

We bought a muggle car and drove it until it felt right to stop. It wasn’t the famous places where we found ourselves, rather it was the forgotten places where we felt most at home. Where I could stand on a cliff edge and just scream and laugh and no one was around to hear me. Where Draco and I would sit at the edge of a river and send down leaves that held our biggest regrets, our losses, and our fears, learning to let go. Where we would sit in cafes and draw what we saw around us and enjoy pastries and tea. Where we could dance in the middle of a crowded room with other couples who didn’t know us from Adam. 

But that is a story for another time. 

For now, I’m sure you have a burning question that you’ve been waiting for me to answer. 

And yes. 

Draco did take me to go and see Phantom of the Opera in Paris like he promised. 

Oh, and we got married.

But, again, that is a story for another time. 

There is one last person I want you to meet before I close. 

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

My heart caught in my throat. 

“Draco?” I squeaked out, leaning against the bathroom counter. “Draco!” 

“What? Are you alright? What’s wrong?” He was frantic, looking for danger. 

“I’m… pregnant,” I whispered, looking at him in wonder. “Draco… I’m—“

“Holy harpies,” 

Realization flickered across his face as it rose into an elated expression of joy. A victorious laugh as he scooped me up and twirled me around our lavish bathroom, in our muggle flat in the suburbs of London. His joy was contagious as I giggled in his arms, holding onto him. He set me down, stroking my face softly. Then he pressed a kiss to my forehead. 

Draco must have seen some fear linger in my stare. Some uncertainty that was well justified. 

“The war is over,” Draco reassured drawing me back into his arms. “They’ll be safe. We’ll make sure of it,” 

I nodded, curling my fingers into his sweater, my smile returning. 

“I’m gonna be a mum,” I laughed. 

“And you’re going to be absolutely brilliant.” He pressed a kiss to my lips. “Absolutely brilliant.” 

“And you’re gonna be a great dad,” Tears pricked my eyes. “God, I don’t know the first thing about being a parent,” A nervous giggle left my lips. 

“We’ll learn and figure it out,” He stroked my cheek softly, stealing another kiss. 

A thousand parenting books, a baby shower, and a few doctors appointments later, Draco and I were curled up on the couch in our flat as the fire crackled in the hearth. 

We had yet to settle on a name—to be fair we narrowed it down a lot, but with every new suggestion came a new round of anxiety that it wouldn’t be just right. It left me up at all hours thinking of it; so much so that Draco had to find a pregnancy safe sleeping potion so I could get proper rest. 

“Elizabeth?” Draco mused, after my mother. I pursed my lips. It had been a suggestion that circled around. 

“I’d like it as a middle name,” I decided, the thought had been mulling over in my mind. 

“Okay done,” He smiled, reaching over to stroke my stomach before resuming his massage of my sore feet. 

“Still need a first name.” I pondered, leaning my head against the back of the couch. “Narcissa?”

Draco snorted. “I’m not calling our daughter by my mothers name,” 

My heart fluttered when he said our daughter. 

“Well we need something,” 

“How about Lucy?” That was a new suggestion: one not voiced by either of us. 

“If that’s some way to get me to name her after your father I swear to Merlin—“

Draco burst out laughing shaking his head. 

“Godric, no. Ugh,” he chuckled. “No, love, Lucy as in the first one to find Narnia. Ya know, that book you read to me all those years ago. The current theme of our nursery?” 

“Oh,” my eyes widened at the thought, my heart softening. “Lucy,” I looked down, caressing my stomach when I felt something odd. Frowning I pressed my palm over the area. Draco caught my confusion and grew very concerned. 

“What? Is she alright? What wrong?” 

“Nothing,” I grinned. “She’s kicking—I think she likes her name,” I reached out for his hand and placed it in the same spot where mine resided as I felt her kick again. 

“Hello little Lucy,” Draco whispered softly. “I can’t wait to meet you,” 

Tears pricked my eyes as I watched him talk to her softly. And like every night, Draco got up and made me my tea that had Sleeping Draught in it—which he brewed specifically for me. It reminded me of our school days when he would spend class time brewing me anti-anxiety potions. It warmed my heart that his habit didn’t wane even with the years past.

That night my eyes fluttered open. I woke in the night, barely awake and ready to fall asleep again when I heard a soft voice. At first I thought Draco was trying to speak to me but I quickly realized that he was talking to someone else. 

“You’re going to be one of the greatest wizards to ever walk the earth,” he murmured softly. “You’ll be kind and smart like your mother. You’re going to love her so much. We already love you so much.” 

I let my eyes drift closed as a smile touched my lips. I resisted the urge to reach out and take Draco’s hand, in fear that he might become bashful about the situation. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A small bundle of warmth rested on my chest, peacefully sleeping. My hand rose and cradled the small thing, tears pricking my eyes. My other hand was still clinging to Draco’s. 

 Lucy Elizabeth Malfoy. 

There were tears in Draco’s eyes as he reached out and with the softest touch caressed her tiny head. 

“She’s beautiful,” he murmured. “You did so well,” 

Exhausted, I let my eyes close, knowing that all was right with the world. Lucy would grow up in a world free from the threat of Voldemort and Draco would be by my side to protect her. We had already bled and fought and now we would make this new world we fought for, right for her. 

A new legacy. 

A new hope. 

.

masterlist

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more like this:

two by two

Beautifully Beastly

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[apocalypseornaw]

Real or Not (Pt 2/5)

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Just as you're beginning to feel like you overreacted the biggest challenge yet gets thrown your way

@lacilou s idea

You sang lightly along with your Playlist, Kaleo cranking through the Bluetooth speaker you'd hooked your phone up to as you worked through the stack of lore books the boys had stored in the small room just outside of the "dungeon" as they called it. They'd gone on a supply run into town and despite Dean asking you to tag along you'd chosen to instead stay behind at the bunker.

A couple weeks had passed since that day you'd overheard him and Sam talking about Camila. You'd been more careful of announcing your presence coming into rooms hoping to not walk into the middle of any more reminiscing. A part of you hoped Dean hadn't noticed any change in you while another part of you was nearly desperate for him to notice, to soothe your worries.

You let out a louder sigh than you'd meant to, noticing the legal pad in front of you was still blank despite the fact that you'd come in here with intentions to gather more information for the hunters journals you and Sam had been compiling to make assisting other hunters easier. "That thing say something bad to you? Cause I'll kick its ass" your eyes flew up to where Dean was now leaned against the doorframe watching you.

A small smile slipped onto your face "How long you been there?" He shrugged "Long enough to see that you looked like someone kicked a black kitten in front of you" you tried to look genuine when you said "Nothings wrong Dean" he nodded slowly "You sure?" "Of course" he smiled before walking closer, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips he tapped his knuckles against the legal pad before playfully saying "You hurt my girl's feelings again I'll set your ass on fire" you laughed despite yourself. Why were you worried when here he was threatening an inanimate object for you?

Yet again you found those three little words warming your lips begging for escape and yet again you choked them back down denying them the freedom to be released into the world. You did love Dean, you were in love with him but you wouldn't say it first. Take away the doubts lingering in your mind you knew him well enough to know the man didn't commit often, you were one of few lasting relationships and wasn't about to say it first just to freak him out.

You realized you were staring at him and felt the tips of your ears warm. Why you weren't sure considering you shared a bed with him and had for a while now. A smirk slipped onto his face before he said "Don't be shy sweetheart. You can feel free to check me out whenever you want, I'm all yours" your head flipped in your chest.

"I just fed your ego even more didn't i?" You teased and shrugged "Maybe just a little" you laughed and shook your head before pushing back from the table and grabbed his hand "Cmon I need a break. I'll help you and Sam put everything away"

You were beginning to think you'd simply over reacted to the mention of Camila. You had a few exes that you ended on good enough terms with that you still spoke to them occasionally and would back them up if need be on a hunt. While it was true none of them came near holding a candle to Dean you had cared about a couple of them.

--------------

You hissed lightly when Sam touched the ragged slice across your arm. Fucking ghouls, you hated the little scavengers. "Easy Y/N" he comforted, the antiseptic cold as he applied it to your wound.

Dean looked up from across the room, the slice across his cheek somehow added to his looks. It wasn't fair he always looked amazing, even when he was bloody "Sweetheart I haven't seen someone take down ghouls that fast in a while" you grinned slightly "Coming from one of you two I'll take that as a compliment"

----------------

Once Sam was through throwing a couple stitches in your arm he placed a bandage over it and smiled over your shoulder at you "all patched up" you nodded "Thanks Sam" He wished you and Dean goodnight then headed for the door that connected the two motel rooms you'd gotten.

-------------

Normally the three of you would just drive back to the bunker but considering you'd had to make the drive down to New Orleans to help a coven with their ghoul problem it had been a unanimous decision to crash halfway back for the night.

When you suggested just getting one room Sam had shook his head "No, I am not risking waking up to the sight of you and Dean being handsy with each other" you had ducked your head from embarrassment but Dean had simply shrugged "She's gorgeous, what can I say?"

--------------

Once the door shut behind Sam, Dean raised an eyebrow at you "What's that look about dee?" You asked and he shrugged "Just thinking you'd be a lot more comfortable out of those jeans"

You felt a smirk slip onto your face "Oh really?" You held his eyes as you unzipped your jeans and pulled them down your legs, kicking them behind you. A smile worked across his face as he took a step towards you "Now let's get you out of that shirt and bra"

You laughed as he reached for the hem of you shirt "So I'd be more comfortable naked?" He caught your lips in a hungry kiss before saying "Yeah, you would but don't worry I'm gonna get comfortable with you"

When you woke up Dean was curled up to your back, his warm breath hitting your neck with every slow exhale as he slept. Your arm wasn't that sore considering although some other body parts were after the night before. A warmth spread through your stomach and lower at the memory of Dean's lips on your body, the way his hips had rolled into yours both of you clinging to each other, a solid chorus of moans mixed with the skin meeting had filled the room.

As if he could hear your thoughts Dean started to stir behind you, his lips finding your neck "What you thinking about?:" you smiled, leaning back into him "A gorgeous guy" he murmured against your skin "Lucky asshole" before his hands began to roam lower on your body.

--------------------

You'd just gotten out of the shower and was getting dressed when you heard Sam's voice in the other room talking to Dean. You caught a few words like "Gotta talk to Y/N"

You quickly got dressed and brushed your hair before heading into the main part of the motel room. Both Winchesters snatched their heads towards the sound of the door opening "What's wrong?" You asked and they exchanged a look "A hunter nearby called for an assist" Dean said matter of factly so you nodded "Ok, what's the case?"

They exchanged another look before Sam said "Thinking changling" you groaned inwardly, the last case had been horrible. "Let's get on it. Who is it?" With one final look exchanged between the boys Sam finally said "Camila"

@lacilou

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[becasworldsstuff]

She’s my person

Pairings: Rebekah Mikaelson x bestfriend!reader (witch reader)

Summary: reader has been with the scooby squad forever, when Rebekah comes to school, she makes her see her true potential and Rebekah is willing to do anything to not let anyone hurt reader.

Y/n was friend with Caroline, Bonnie and Elena since forever but they never let her bloom out her true nature, her powers always diminished but used and used whenever someone needed them, it had been that way since they found out the supernatural world, now, the originals were in town, which meant keeping Elena safe from them, little did they knew about what their friend could manage to control outside of her powers.

It was another school day which meant getting up, ready and be awaken enough to bare being with Caroline at 7.30 am, while y\n was nearly sleeping she bumped into a cascade of blonde hair sending herself into the ground and earning a laugh from above

‘Oh my god, i cannot say sorry enough its that I’m really just so clumsy, oh Rebekah its you, you look so pretty today, see you in class’

Those were the first words heard of kindness by Rebekah, her eyes never leaving the figure of the sweet, little witch that she knew was friend with the scooby gang, klaus often talked about her, saying that she was just so sweet that she even worried about him.

Rebekah couldn’t not find herself quite entrained by the girl that in history class seemed to be sleeping calmly, then in math, and then she felt some kind of warm feeling when their pe teacher paired them together.

Into 2 weeks of their friendship bekah had felt the most appreciated in her life ever, following y/n around and sending side glances to anyone who looked strangely in their direction, not that she cared what other though, but her new friend probably would.

Their phone calls lasted hours on end and y/n was more at the mikaelson’s house than at her own, not that anyone seemed to mind as she had everything one could possibly search for.

With the passing time, the squad started to realize y/n's absence to their meetings and such, but no one outside of Elena got worried for her. So the next morning, while she was looking for a book in her locker, Caroline, Bonnie and Elena got near her asking about what was happening, receiving a giggle and a mumble that said "oh, nothing, I just made a new friend, I'm just happy about it and I'm trying to spend more time with her as I'm her only friend, see you at cheer practice" and with that the ball of sunshine disappeared in thin air.

Before cheer practice, in the evening, y/n and Rebekah were stretching and chatting, when Damon Salvatore got near them and decided that he needed to talk to the witch to defeat Klaus, so he was shocked when she saw the original girl, with fake confidence and a smug smirk he took the girl's arm and turned around saying he needed her.

In the Salvatore house y/n had been doing spells for over six hours, stopping only to drink water, her strength now starting to fade as her skin surely couldn't look like one of a healthy person. But she kept on, feeling ridiculous in her little cheerleading outfit, and while her eyes were heavy and her body started to tild to the side for the exhaustion one vampire straightened her up " come on, if you're such a strong witch then you should be able to do this" she kept chanting words in Latin not hearing anyone. The door and the windows flew open, and while everyone seemed to be fighting with the wind she looked as if it was in front of her only to make her look more angelic, the candles started to grow and a light spread around the room strongly, while this was happening, the originals came through the open door and saw as the girl cried blood and screamed while doing the spell, not that anyone seemed to care since they where too busy celebrating the outcome.

When the girl hit violently the floor due to exhaustion Rebekah ran to pick her up, her best friend, being used by ghost who she considered being her dear friend, not having seen in hours Rebekah called her brothers who got a witch to locate her.

They carried the young girl in her cheer outfit and placed her in a guest's bedroom. Waiting for her to wake up the originals forgot all about Elena and the doppelganger and the Salvatore Brothers instead Rebekah sat on the bed with the girl's head on her lap while gently stroking her hair.

"You're my best friend"

[peterparkersnose]

Needy

Part 2 to Give In

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut (f receiving oral), broken leg, pain, depression, anxiety, longing, needy joel, reunion of sorts, cringe nickname from maria, malnutrition, descriptions of not eating and weight loss and physical changes due to that, brief grief

a/n hi i wrote smut. god help me, i hated writing it. i hope you guys like it, i tried to make it somewhat good. this takes place after the first game, or when the series ends. spoilers definitely. the middle where you don’t see ellie and joel for the four years there just living in jackson, right when joel comes back from saving ellie.

summary Y/N gets invited to Jackson by her Aunt Maria

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read time: 12 mins 25 seconds

After a few days you realized Joel wasn’t coming back. The sad realization sink in and really took its toll on you. FEDRA officers came to make sure you weren’t dead in your apartment, and with that made you go back to work.

Same day, over and over again once again. Take care of the babies in the QZ. Watch people get hung in the square. Eat the same, boring, disgusting meal FEDRA gave to you. Live in the empty memories that lingered all over town.

Tess was gone too. You figured they were both dead in a ditch or moved on to something better and bigger than this damn QZ. Part of you wondered if Joel just wanted an out; if he was sick of having you as a responsibility and left because of you. And it ate you alive.

It had been a month. You were still trying to reach your Aunt over the radio, just as Joel had been trying to reach his brother. It’s something the two of you bonded over the last few weeks he was here. Your Aunt Maria was located somewhere out west. You weren’t really sure where, but you knew she was still alive. You felt her spark. Ever since your mom and your uncle died when you were small, she had watched you until she was promised a ‘better life’ somewhere in… Wyoming? Montana? Idaho? You weren’t sure. She left you in the QZ because she thought it would be better for your safety. You were a preteen at the time, and for what it was worth it was probably a better idea than to track across country.

Sitting, scrolling through channels you hopelessly looked for Maria’s signal. She always used the lower frequencies, usually this specific one you were listening to. Just as you were about to click the machine off, you heard it.

“Lovebug?”

You gasped and cheered. Lovebug is what she called you when you were younger, a nickname of sorts.

“Auntie?” you called back, hoping this wasn’t one of your delusions seeping back in. “I’m here!” she called. You could hear a group of people cheering in the back.

She gave you a quick set of coordinates and cut off communication. It was brief and that hurt, but life finally had its purpose back. No more Joel, no more overthinking, no more hurting from how he left you.

-

You basically crawled towards the gate of Jackson. Unsure if this was even the right place, you hoped your topography skills were as good as you thought they were. From stealing four cars, foraging for gas (which there was barely any of) and walking over three thousand miles, you prayed this place was anything close to heaven. You had avoided getting bitten or scratched, but killing countless infected on the way. At least you would get to see your Aunt one last time.

The people had their guns pointed at you as you expected. “P-please.” you pleaded with your hands up. You were sure to be almost unrecognizable. Hair was greasy and matted, you had lost a significant amount of weight, and your clothes were tattered. Even in the apocalypse you liked to stay neat, but at this point in your journey you had stopped caring.

“Maria—she’s my a-aunt.”

“I’m going to need Maria at the east gate along with a medic. Stat.” a person called through the radio. The doors opened slightly.

“Y/N?” you heard your Aunt cry. You raised your head enough to see her run towards you. She held you in her arms and cried. The medics were weary behind her, letting this sweet family reunion continue.

You hugged her and tried to hold on to her shoulders the best you could. There was something different. Blinking a few times to get the icicles out of your eyelashes that had formed you realized she was pregnant.

“Y-your pregnant?” you asked. She shook her head and smiled. “I have a lot to explain. I’ll come with you to med.”

They had a makeshift stretcher with a thick piece of fabric held together by two refined pieces of wood. A blanket was placed over you as they carried you across this town. From what you could see, you were in heaven. Dead, no longer here. This whole thing was a mirage.

“It’s real, I promise you honey.” Maria assured you. “H-how?”

“I can explain once your stable. You’ve been out in the cold for too long.”

You closed your eyes, praying it wasn’t for the last time.

Awake. Is what you were. You weren’t sure where, or how, but you were awake. It was dark outside. The little log cabin you were in had a curtain hanging to divide you from other stations and medical supplies. You tried to move.

Your leg was stiff. A large groan escaped from you as you tried to move it.

“No,” you heard from your side. A man sat there. He had dark hair that was longer than the usual cut. His thick black mustache sat upon his lip. He had a tanned skin tone and from what you heard, a thick southern accent that reminded you of Joel. What was a southerner doing so far North?

“Try not to move it. You got a small fracture. Nothing serious, but you will be in the boot for a few weeks.”

His eyes darted to the medical walking boot that sat against the wall. “Who are you? Where is Maria?”

He chuckled at your enthusiasm. “I’m Tommy, Maria’s husband.”

It started to click. “Oh,”

Didn’t Joel mention his brothers name was Tommy? Or was it Timmy. You couldn’t remember. A southerner out west, you doubted it was the brother Joel was looking for. God, why are you still thinking about him? Even now, after you nearly died crossing the country? Sneaking out of the QZ? You were ashamed that your first thought after a brush with death was Joel Miller.

“I let her get some rest, she was here all day. It’s a lot of stress you know…”

Tommy was baiting to see if you knew. “For the baby.” you confirmed.

He shook his head. “Crazy, isn’t it?” he said.

Tommy explained Jackson. How it was functional, safe, and everyone was happy. Maria was right, this was heaven. He explained that there wasn’t any availability in Jackson at the moment, but Maria insisted of inviting you after she found out she was pregnant. Tommy explained something about jealousy and families, but it didn’t make sense to you. Apparently he had just gotten some family back, and Maria wanted hers back too. Since there was no availability, you were going to be staying with a girl in her house. Her name was Ellie. She was quite a few years younger than you, but Maria thought your personalities would get along well. You trusted your Aunt’s judgement, but was concerned when you found out you were to be living with a fifteen year old.

“Get some shut eye. I can help you move in tomorrow. It’s gon’ be difficult on that boot.”

-

It was early morning and Tommy was walking back to his house. Jackson was almost silent, besides for the early birds chirping in the trees and the sounds of the chefs getting ready for breakfast in the nearby mess hall. He stopped in front of Joel’s house and sighed. The large, two story garage behind the house is where Ellie lived, and where you would be staying until they could build you a house. But building a house took time and resources. He prayed that you and Ellie got along. It was either living with Ellie or Joel—Ellie definitely seemed like the safe choice in that situation. Joel wasn’t too friendly to strangers.

Slowly, he entered his own home. Maria was asleep on the couch, cradling her stomach. Tommy watched his beautiful wife for a moment, watching her chest rise and fall. She seemed so peaceful in that moment. Maria was due in a few weeks, and Tommy knew he wouldn’t have the luxury of this for much longer.

“Maria,” he whispered, stroking his hand over her hair and gently waking her up. She jolted awake, like most people did in this world, and was at ease when she found out it was just Tommy.

She put her coat on and grabbed the one she had gotten for you and followed her husband to the medic ward.

“Good morning,” Maria announced, dropping the coat on your stomach. This woke you. Groggily, you looked up at your Aunt with a displeased face. Tommy reached for the boot in the corner. You slowly moved your legs off the bed, groaning in pain. “Are you sure you don’t have anything for the pain?” you gasped. “Not for pain like this, I’m sorry.” Maria assured you. Tommy slowly guided your leg in to the medical boot and tightly strapped it close.

All night you had prepared for the depression that was going to follow with this damned boot. Not being able to move around, depending on others. It hurt too much to start to care about someone else, let alone have them take care of you. You hated to admit it, but this town could be gone within the span of a day.

“Now, you won’t need crutches. Give it a go.” Tommy said, extending his hands to you. They were coarse and dry, and that was a bit off putting to you. The second you put pressure down on your leg it felt like fire was streaming in your veins. Maria noticed your face tense and your hand grip harder on her husbands forearms. You sat back down on the bed, subduing your pain somewhat. “Shit,” Tommy sighed. “Do you think it was worse than we thought? Could the doctor have measured it wrong?” Maria whispered to Tommy. You heard bits and pieces of their conversation after that, but all you could focus on was your leg throbbing.

Ultimately, the two of them decided to get a wheelchair for you to use temporarily and be on strict bed rest. Yay.

“I dunno how I’m supposed to…” Maria said, grunting as she began to lift the handles of your wheelchair. “Don't!” Tommy yelled, stopping his very pregnant wife from potentially harming herself or the baby. “You wait here, lemme get Joel.”

Ice seemed to jolt through your veins when he said that. “Joel?” you asked suddenly in an alarmed tone. Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, he can help us get down the steps.”

You froze as Tommy began to walk away. You looked up at Maria.

“What’s his last name?”

“Miller. He did spend some time in the Boston QZ… maybe you’ll recognize him.”

No no no no, no no no. This cannot be happening. This is a fever dream, you convinced yourself. This isn’t happening. This isn't real.

“You alright?” Maria asked, looking down from behind you. She was concerned at your lack of response. As she asked that, Tommy began to return. And along side him walked the man you had to convince yourself you weren't in love with.

Maybe he wouldn't recognize you.

You had lost a significant amount of weight. You sliced off half of the length of your hair while you made your journey just simply because it was annoying. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize you. You prayed he didn't. Oh god, what if he thought you were the weird stalker girl who followed him here simply because she wanted to be with him? That’s terrifying. Stalkers existed in the fungal world, but you weren't one in the real world.

“This Ellie’s new roommate?”

His voice filled your skin with goosebumps. Not looking up, you kept your eyes glued on your feet in the wheelchair footrests. “Yup, she’s all yours.” Maria said chipperly, giving Joel jurisdiction to the wheelchair handles. Tommy counted down from four as the two men struggled to make a clear way down the wooden steps of the medical ward. Hearing Joel grunt brought back to many explicit memories, it honestly made your core begin to warm. Joel wheeled you all the way to a house. “Your gon’ have to build a ramp,” Tommy teased Joel. Joel sighed, picking up the wheelchair once again in synch with Tommy as they struggled to make sure your wheels didn’t bump the old, cracked wooden stairs of the house.

As they wheeled you inside the house, the two middle aged men were out of breathe.

“You know…” Joel said, catching his breathe by holding on to the side of his wall. “Those damned brick stairs are gonna be hell. If she wants, she’s welcome to my couch until she’s well enough to walk.”

As Tommy spun around your wheelchair, your eyes met with Joel’s for the first time in over five months.

And he recognized you. Oh, he totally recognized you. His facial structure seemed to shift as he realized that the girl he just offered to live on his couch was you.

“Alright,” Tommy said, not realizing what was going on. His smooth voice luckily interrupted the longing look you and Joel were sharing. “I’m gonna go fix you up some breakfast from the mess hall. You good from here?” You nodded your head slowly.

“Don’t bother, I got plenty here.” Joel offered. Your eyes widened, realizing he wanted to get you alone with him. “You sure?” Tommy questioned. “Go find your wife, take her to a nice breakfast.” Joel suggested. Tommy agreed and promptly left the house.

Joel sat in an old recliner across from you. Your finger scratched at the old medical sticker stuck to the wheelchair’s arm.

“How did-” “Are you-”

The two of you let out an embarrassed scoff. “You go,” he offered. “No you-” you insisted. After bantering for a few seconds, Joel broke the awkwardness.

“How did you find me?”

You sighed. So you did come off as the stalker-ish, jealous girl. “It’s not like that, I promise you. M-Maria is my aunt, the one I was trying to find when…”

“When I was searchin’ for Tommy, yeah.” Joel finished your sentence. “She invited me here, gave me coordinates. I didn’t know you were here until five minutes ago, Joel.”

His name sounded weird coming off your lips after filling your head for so many months. Joel let out a sigh of relief. “You look different,”

“Yeah, well two months across country with almost no food and no ammo can change a person.”

He sighed. “And you…?” he asked, gesturing for you to ask your question.

“Are you mad?”

Joel chuckled.

“Your wondering if I’m mad?”

“Well yeah, I mean we didn't necessarily end on good terms.”

“Good terms?” Joel laughed. “I thought about that damned kiss for months, Y/N.”

A smile sparked to your lips, but slowly left when you remembered. Tess.

“And where is Tess? I’m sure she would be happy to see me.”

Joel’s eyes darted to the floor.

“She didn’t make it,” he said bluntly.

Memories flooding back of the good times you and Tess had made you sad. She was gone. The closest thing you had to a friend was Tess.

“Well,” Joel said, breaking the awkward silence. “Would you like some breakfast? Better than those sardines…” You chuckled a bit.

“Will you help me?” you asked, looking now up at Joel. He nodded, reaching out for your hands. He pulled you up, and the wheelchair rolled backwards. As you tried to steady yourself, the movement of the wheelchair put you off and you began to slip. “Shit,” you yelped as your boot hit the floor. Joel them promptly picked you up under the armpits and held you up unnaturally high. Naturally, your good leg wrapped around his waist, as the other one did its best attempt at following your other leg. His hands rested under your butt, one hand grasping on to it. You now looked down at him as he held you. “Giving me flashbacks,” you chuckled, a hand coming to steady yourself on his back. The other hand traveled just below his hairline on his neck. It was within seconds that Joel’s mouth was on yours.

He was eager. He hadn’t been with you for a good seven months. He needed something, even if it was just a taste of you.

“Fuck,” he muttered, pulling away. “I missed that.”

Your hand had traveled up his head, now grasping his graying hair. Both of your breaths were heavy. “Joel,” you whispered. “Please.”

He nodded and slowly put you down on the couch. Your leg hit the ground with an oompf. He stood in front of you. The bulge in his pants was very prominent.

“May I?” he asked you, coming down to his knees. Joel was never this respectful back in Boston. He would take what he wanted when he wanted, with your consent of course. He never asked for permission because he was always confident that he had it; and he did. Something in him had changed. It was very obvious that it did. You weren't sure if it was Tess’s passing, the brutal crossing of the country, or the argument the two of you had before. But something had definitely changed.

With the confirmation he was granted, he slowly lifted your butt off the sofa to remove your pants. Once your pants were by your thighs he yanked them off. One leg stayed trapped over your boot. There was the Boston Joel coming back, seeping through this new shell of a man he was. Your panties were soaked per usual. “Always so wet for me,” Joel muttered, pushing your stomach back on the couch. He took his middle finger and pushed your panties aside, but also coming back and giving a quick swipe between your folds. A soft moan came from your lips. You adjusted yourself so that you were on full display. Your hips rocked back as Joel wettened his fingers from you. His other hand rested on your thigh, holding it firmly as his thumb made soft circles on your inner thigh, dangerously close. You stirred as he finally inserted two fingers. “J-Joel…” you moaned, clenching around him.

“Just like that,” he said, slowly pumping in and out. “Good girl.”

The praise was almost enough to send you over the wall. He never gave you anything like this back in Boston. It was always to satisfy himself. You feel like this time Joel really, truly cared. He moved his hand from your thigh to your lower back, moving yourself closer to his face. His thumb brushed circles around your clit. “Do you want it?” he asked you. You looked down to his eager eyes. They seemed to melt at the sight of you. You shook your head. “With words…”

Boston Joel’s dominance had returned. “Y-yes.”

“Manners?” he asked, giving another deep circle around your clit. “Please, Joel. Please.”

You knew he liked when you used his name. “Good job,”

His tongue softly darted to your folds. A plethora of slurred swears and moans came from you as he began to eat you out. The sucking and slurping noises were almost pathetic; Joel was so needy. Both of his hands rested on your thighs, tightly holding on. As he took a second to re gain some air, his lips moaned against your clit. That was almost enough to make you cum. He licked his lips, and went back in. This time he could tell you were close. You were already contracting and he could feel the release building up in your core. “Come on baby, beg for it.”

“Let me cum Joel, please! I-I… please!”

He pulled away and kissed your folds. “Since you asked so nicely,”

His tongue seemed to dissolve inside of you as your orgasm began to hit you. “So good, good job baby. Ride it out.” he said, moving away from you. His thumb delved into your clit that made your legs begin to shake. “It’s okay, you got it.” Joel re assured you, holding down your knee on your injured jeg so it wouldn’t hurt. Once you came down from your high, he helped you put your pants back on. Slowly, he helped you get up and pulled your pants back up to your waist.

Holding you in his arms, the two of you stood.

“God, how I missed this.”

“God, how I missed you.”

-

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[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

On thin ice (Hockey player! Miguel O’Hara x Figure skater! Fem! Reader)

A/N: Not me already have written this part the day after I posted the first one 🤭. I wanna add titles to the chapters but idk what I’d have them be, probably lyrics from songs I like lol. Once again, apologies now for If Miguel is ooc and if the terminology and sports talk is wrong. If you’re experienced in either sport and wanted to lmk if I got something wrong. If you want to be added to the taglist lmk too.

(Y/N)- Your name, (L/N)- Last name.

No warnings, Just Miguel and you interacting lol. Idk if this is consider filler but it’s meant to get the ball rolling lol.

Word count: 1.3k

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2: Do you ever get that fear that you can’t shift the tide,

—

It’s been about a week since you’ve last ran into Miguel at the arena, surprisingly the figure skating team don’t run into the hockey team as much as you would think despite having to share a communal space on campus. Unfortunately, today was one of those days were you did run into them. You’ve arrived about 45 minutes early to practice, Logan nor coach Kavinsky were here yet. You were hoping to get some alone time on the ice before practice, but it had slipped your mind that today was Thursday, and on Thursdays the hockey team practiced before you rather then after like the rest of the week. As you dropped your gym back on the bench in the girl’s locker room, you were debating to whether you wanted to just wait at the arena till they were done, or walk back to your dorm. The only problem with the latter option is that the dorm buildings were all the way across campus, and by the time you finished the walk you’d have to turn around to walk back anyways.

So you stuck it up, and changed into your practice outfit, your skates in hand as you leave the locker room, deciding to keep your regular shoes on so you could at least get your stretching out of the way before your coach and partner came. You quickly went into one of the empty dance rooms that the arena had to do warm up stretches in, popping in your headphones to listen to your favorite song. After about 15 minutes you still had plenty of time before The Spiders got off the ice, you decided to just walk around the stadium. No destination in mind, just where ever your feet decided to carry you as your music continue to play in your ears. You can’t really say you were surprised to find yourself ending up in the main area with the ice rink, plopping yourself down in one of the front row seats as you let your brain go on autopilot.

You were too busy being lost in the music, you didn’t realize you were staring into space until you say a large tan hand appear in front of your face and began to snap its fingers, pulling you back into the moment.

“hellooo? Earth to ice princess.”

“Huh?” You shot up to sit straighter, blinking a bit as you take out your headphones, turning your head to look at the person who had just snapped you back into reality. “Look I know I’m attractive and all, but you don’t have to stare-“ Miguel begins, a cocky smirk on his face that you just wanted to smack off. One of his large hands going up to take off this helmet, his dark brown hair that was usually slicked back was now messy from the helmet, a thin coat of sweat covering his forehead. You cut him off, “ew, why would I be staring at you?” You question, your face slightly scrunched in distaste at the thought.

“You’ve been looking in my direction at the past 20 minutes.” He smirks as his teammates start to put away all their hockey equipment behind him, not paying attention to you both talk. You gave him a confused look before you realize why he might have been thinking that, “Oooooh-no-no I was just zoning out, I wasn’t staring at you on purpose.” You quickly explain, awkwardly scratching the back of your neck with your gloved hand, attempting to keep eye contact with the hockey player.

For a second, it looked like Miguel’s cocky exterior faltered, before coming back up. “Uh huh…sure.” He tone dripping with sarcasm as he drops his helmet onto a seat, then taking a seat next to you. His action caught you by surprise but you didn’t let it show, you also didn’t want to show the annoyance that filled your body from the taunting comment. “Why are you even here this early? Where is your little boyfriend?” He asked as turns his body towards you, resting the hand closest to you on his knee, his forearm that was further from you going to rest on his other knee. He was manspreading a bit, his eyes raking over your form slowly.

“Jesus why is it so warm in here all of a sudden? Usually I’m freezing my nonexistent balls off…” You thought as you shifted in your seat a bit, feeling the need to distract yourself, you start to change into your skates. “I wanted to get some time on the ice alone before practice but I forgot it was Thursday and- wait. Boyfriend?”

Miguel chuckled at your surprised reaction, turning his head away slightly, the hand that was resting on his knee came up to cover the smile that was creeping up on his face from your reaction. After a second or two he cleared his throat, his hand dropping back down to his knee as he turns to face you again with a neutral expression. “Yeah, your boyfriend, the one you skate with. What’s his name again? Lincoln? Liam?” Miguel knew his name, he just wanted to see if you’d correct him.

“Logan?”

Miguel tried his best not to scowl.

“Yeah, Logan-whatever-where’s he at?” He asked, he’s words come out annoyed and a bit rushed. “Well for one, he’s not my boyfriend, just my figure skating partner.” You start as you tilted your head to the side as you look at him, saying it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Now Miguel is trying his hardest not to let a huge shit eating grin spread across his lips. “And second, he’s probably on his way, he had a class today before practice-some science thing- I don’t know.” You shrugged your shoulders as you finish speaking.

Speaking of the devil, Logan and Coach Kavinsky appear through the front double door. “Ah! (Y/N), already here. Perfect! Let’s get straight into it.” She said with a smile as she seemingly ignore Miguel’s presence next to you, Logan stops next to you as you both took the guards off your skates, him shooting you a knowing look, his lips twitching up into small smirk as his eyes drift between you and Miguel. “I swear to God…if he brings this up later…” You start to think but a voice cut you off.

“Hey Cap!” One of the hockey players called out for Miguel’s attention, “We just finished packing up, you coming?” He asked as he skate to the edge of the rink, before getting out, a few of the other lingering players that were making sure all the equipment was all packed up doing the same. As soon as the other player was done speak to Miguel, he took off his helmet revealing (messy from the helmet and some sweat) light brown hair and brown eyes, his lower half of his face covered with a 5 o’ clock shadow and you noticed his nose was slightly croaked, probably him having broken it from a past game.

Miguel let out a heavy sigh, before turning towards the other player. “Yeah Parker, I’m going.” He grumbled as he brought his hand up to rub his face before giving you one more quick glance and getting up, leaving with the rest of who was left from his team, without another word. For some reason, that bothered you, causing your brows furrowed as your lips fall into a small frown.

“Rude…” you mumbled as you got up from your seat, Logan heard this and let out a small snort as he steps on to the ice. “Don’t overthink it (L/N), that’s just how he is.” Your partner tried to reassure you, you send him a small smile back and a quick nod of your head.

“Yeah, you’re right. I shouldn’t overthink it.” You repeat his words, as you went to enter the rink as well, but it was a bit too late for that, because you already were overthink it.

—

Taglist: @tayleighuh

[hobiebrownismygod]

Hiiii! So I don’t usually put in requests but I read your fic where Hobie is trying to get to know secretive Y/N- and since Y/N was said to have never took off their mask, I was wondering if you could write about that same secretive Y/N finally showing their face?

Writing requests even when anon is spooky 😭

This is a great addition to the original fic, thank you for requesting!! <3

Hobie Brown x GN!Reader Mysterious Part 2

<PREV

MASTERLIST

WC: <1k

A/N: Sorry it's taking me so long to get to requests, midterms are kicking my ass 😭. I swear I'll try to get the rest of the requests in my inbox out as soon as I can <3

___________________________________________________________

"Earth-138, right?"

"Tha's the place"

You typed in the coordinates onto your dimensional watch, before snapping your wrist towards the area in front of you, opening up the portal that would take you into Hobie's dimension.

You'd been trying to convince him to take you to his dimension since you'd met him, curious about where he came from. After spending the past week constantly hearing about the 'corrupted government' and the 'wanking pigs' that ruled there, you were even more interested in seeing the place with your own eyes.

You stepped through the portal, falling into what must've been Hobie's house- well, not necessarily a house. Were they on a boat?

"What the-" you looked out the window to see that his house was situated on a body of water, probably some sort of lake or canal. "Oh yeah, I forgot to tell ya-" he said as he jumped through his own portal, landing in front of you and taking in your surprised expression. "-I stay on this houseboat here."

He gave the wall a pat, smiling before he looked back at you. "Her name's Stella."

"Why Stella?"

He shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his vest before approaching you sheepishly. "I liked the name."

You snorted under your breath, rolling your eyes at him before taking another glance around. "So...you gonna show me around? Or am I just gonna stand here awkwardly?"

"Right, right-" he said quickly, beginning to walk towards what you guessed was his bedroom. His eyes widened for a moment before he looked back at you. "...wait out here for a moment. Jus' needa tidy some things up" he disappeared behind the door, leaving you standing in the hallway, arms folded across your chest.

You couldn't help but smile slightly under your mask. As you leaned back against the wall, you realized that you were feeling a little stuffy. It would've been much more comfortable to take off your mask, but you decided against it.

Why let him see your face? It wasn't important. It's not like seeing your face would matter...or did it? What if he thought you looked weird? What if there was something about your face he didn't like? Why take off the mask when there was so much that could go wrong?

"Overthinking at its finest" you scoffed to yourself, embarrassed by the thoughts running through your mind. "Pathetic."

The door swung open and you jumped, turning your attention to a slightly sweaty Hobie, who'd obviously just spent the last few minutes hurriedly tossing his mess to the side. "Come in." he said with a lopsided grin, gesturing for you to walk in.

His room was...amazing. It was like walking into a different world. There wasn't an bit of blank on the wall, every square inch being covered by some sort of poster, most of them being of various bands and artists, one of them being who you assumed was his universe's Gwen Stacy, with blonde spikes and a drumstick in her hand.

In the corner was his spectacular electric guitar, adorned in all the random stickers he'd found over the years, and next to it were various other instruments, a bass guitar, an acoustic guitar, even a ukulele next to his own set of drumsticks.

He looked over your shoulder, leaning in slightly. "So? What d'ya think?" he asked quietly, enjoying your surprise. "It's...awesome." you said softly, glancing over at him.

"It's a little messy-" he kicked a magazine under his bed, hiding it from your view, "-but it's...well, it's me."

"inconsistent?" You asked sarcastically, shooting him a sly grin.

"You could say that." he laughed, bouncing down onto his bed, that you were surprised he could even sleep in considering his size compared to its. Probably an old bed.

"You ready to see the outside world now?" he asked with an eyebrow raise, waiting for you to finish staring at all his magazines. "Uh, yeah. Sure." you replied, making your way back towards the door.

Suddenly, his arm pulled you back, preventing your from leaving. "Woah, woah, you're not going out like that!" He had a cocky look on his face, tilting his head. "Excuse me?" You asked him confusedly, staring up at his mischievous grin.

"I'm telling you, if you go out dressed like a superhero, you'll be shot on sight." he tapped his chin in a mocking way before glancing back at you. "I wonder what we can do to prevent that..."

Realizing what he was getting at, you took a step back, tone turning annoyed. "I won't let myself get shot." you said harshly. "I'm Spider-man."

"Yeah, but you won't exactly be able to enjoy anything either, eh?" he replied, ignoring your hesitation. "Come on, let's just be normal civilians for a little while hmm? Whad'ya say?"

"This is all just a ploy to get me to take off my mask, isn't it?" you groaned, looking away from him and shaking your head. "Depends. Is it working?"

"I'm not gonna do it."

"Come on!"

"Not happening."

"Just for a little while. It's not like you're horribly disfigured or somet'ing, right? It'll be fine!" He was pleading at this point, too curious to let go of his chance to see your face. After all, he'd been planning this out for a while. Since he'd met you just a week or two ago, he'd decided that he'd make it his goal to see your face one day, and now...he was so close.

He didn't know why he wanted to know what you looked like so badly. It's not like it would really matter. His curiosity however, outweighed the impulse control, and he found himself completely obsessed with what you might look like under there.

You were probably gorgeous.

"Please? I promise, it'll be fun!"

"I don't want to." you replied softly, biting the inside of your cheek and folding your arms over your chest. "Why not?" He matched your tone, leaning down slightly to see you eye to eye.

"I just...I don't know..." you hesitated, looking back at him. He looked so welcoming, reassuring smile on his face, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes...he wouldn't judge. You knew he wouldn't.

So you decided, for the first time since you'd joined the Spider Society, to show him your face.

He stared, eyes wide.

You flinched slightly, barely able to make eye contact, mask in your hand as you cowered under his gaze. It was so...awkward, for lack of a better word. You didn't know how to react to his scanning.

He continued to stare.

"Hello?" You waved your hand in his face, a slight smile appearing on yours. "You there?"

"hi." he replied, his voice breathy and his gaze unwavering. "You're....you're-" he stuttered.

"not what you expected?" you asked quietly, face falling.

"Perfect."

You looked back up at him, eyebrows furrowing in disbelief. "You're joking. Stop playing with me-"

"Wow" he interrupted, standing up straight, a wide grin on his face. "Just...bloody hell, you're gorgeous."

"Can you shut up?" you laughed, shoving his arm. He caught your arm, pulling you towards him slightly. "You know, I think the wait was worth it." he said quietly, unable to suppress the bashful smile spreading across his face. "You're even more perfect than I'd have expected, love."

"You're funny." you replied, shaking your head. "Now can we go-?"

"Yeah, yeah, we'll go. After I stare at you for just a few more minutes."

"Are you being serious?" You asked with a raised eyebrow, holding back a laugh.

"I'm being dead serious. You better never put that bloody mask on in front of me again, you hear?" he said, chuckling under his breath. "I wanna see this face every day from now on."

"Whatever you say" you replied sarcastically, rubbing the back of your neck in an attempt to stop the heat from spreading across your face.

"Actually, you know what'd be even better? If I'm the only one in the entirety of HQ to know what you look like." his eyes widened slightly. "That's right...yeah! I'm the only one that gets to see this pretty face from now on, a'right?"

You laughed softly. "You're the only one I'd trust to see it anyways."

[wolvertooth]

can you plz hate rant about the deadpool & wolverine movie… saw it last week and i didn’t like it all… very refreshing to see that someone shares my opinion lmao

i got u man👍 most of this was in my drafts from after the movie came out, but i just never got around to posting it. i added some other opinions ive had since then, tho theres still a lot ive said over the past month that ive totally forgotten about lol

the intro sequence was fucking HYPE‼️ but then, part way thru the movie, u realize....it doesnt ever hit that same mark again. WHERE TF WAS THE HUGH JACKMAN SONG THEY PROMISED? the trailers showed 95% xmen origins clips. the movie didnt mention it once. no the brothers line doesnt count. false fucking advertising. deadpools sexuality has been confirmed since 2014. and now, 10 years later, its still being reduced to gay jokes. and people still eat it up like its genuine rep.

that guy at the tva who’s whole punchline was that he likes men. why. in 2024. why is that allowed. his whole character was a gay joke. i mean so was deadpool, but this guys whole thing was. That. can i say homophobia? can i say i felt that? is that reasonable? this movie felt like a fundraiser for the future avengers movies to make up for all the recent flops.

i watched this shit twice and yea. i was right. the plot was half assed. once u watch it once, thats it. thats the fun. its all just cameos. the jokes didnt even make me laugh again, since it was majority shock based humor. my second watch thru i was trying not to fall asleep in my chair. the way it lacks plot isnt in the Not Coherent kind of way, but rather 'this couldve been a 40 minute monster of the week episode'....or maybe even a 2 episodes if they wanted to get freaky with it it just felt so separate from the rest of the movies, like it wasnt even a sequel.

literally, the movie begins with them abandoning the previous timeline and wade moving to a new ‘better’ one.....almost like hes moving over to a more sacred timeline.........separate from fox.........which is dumb af cuz the movie couldve been him accepting that whatever happens in ur life u cant go back and change, and u have to make due with the good u already have. the previous movie ended with him having a family, he didnt need a new one. i mean, they did that for logans 'learning moment', why wouldnt that also apply to wade? paradox literally says ‘hey we brought u in cuz the mcu is dying, so u should come over to the sacred timeline’ and then after he changes into his costume THEY CHANGE THE PLOT. THEY THROW THAT OUT. WITHIN MINUTES. now paradox is like ‘actually just your timeline is dying, and i wont elaborate on how that works. and also u dont get to go to the sacred timeline. and i hate you.’ WHY BRING HIM THERE AT ALL THEN IF THATS THE PLOT U CHANGED IT TO? ITS DOESNT MAKE SENSE. even if the plot was that he had to go to the sacred timeline cuz his own was dying, WHY WOULDNT HE BE ABLE TO BRING HIS FRIENDS?

what was the vanessa plot? they never explain why she broke up with him? theres like a tiny flashback where she says hes been distracted ever since he got rejected, rejected from what? clearly not the avengers, since that happens after she leaves him. so wtf was the motive here????? the cameos felt like props. especially the deadpool corps, which i feel like they didnt even skim a wiki article for. they just went off google images. which hurt me. cuz i reallyyyyy like those guys....in the comics, theyre a group of deadpools(consisting of lady deadpool, kidpool, headpool, dogpool, and deadpool), who in their first series save the multiverse from being destroyed(sound familiar?). theyre the GOOD GUYS. why tf would they hear cassandra nova say ‘hey im gonna kill the entire multiverse’ and go ‘alright sure whatever’. why were they in the void to begin with? how’d they get there? isnt the void just for movie continuities anyway? why was cassandra also there? how does the void work? why does the void exist? will someone please explain literally anything in this movie? why not have them come in later to save the fucking day instead??

oh lady deadpool...how they massacred ur character... OH KIDPOOL.....HOW THEY MASSACRED UR CHARACTER...... god speaking of that. cassandra nova had literally so much potential and they watered her down to just Evil Villain. she hasnt done much in the comics, but one the things she did in one them was using her powers for therapy on the xmen(which deadpool also made a cameo in). she sort of does this briefly in that one scene, but it was just so.....basic. bland. why was there no b plot with the rest of the main cast. did they think the audience doesnt watch these movies for them? cuz i sure fucking do. i was waiting for the continuation of colossus and wades epic romance arc. side note, the gay jokes in the previous movies felt even less queerbaity then these ones. this movies queerbaiting was just....sad. marketing queerbaiting. this movie WISHES it couldve been deadpool 2 levels of queerbait(shoutout to the extended sex mimicking scene set to In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel)

did anyone catch at the end when deadpool was narrating and when he said ‘friends’ yukio and negasonic teenage warhead were on screen. did anyone see that. they disney gal paled them.

i know wade is supposed to be the Funny Guy but man. thats literally all he was this movie. the other ones has ANGST they had him be HUMAN while this one was like 'logan was mean to me one time ):' bro. what happened. where'd the writers go.

this wolverine was like. the wolverine 2014 wolverine. which is when fox wolverine started to lose character and just become grumpy and mean. hes also like that in Logan 2017, but the reason why this kinda attitude works in that one is bcuz hes old, hes fucked up, hes tired, and every fuck that comes outta his mouth he means it. and yet....still manages to experience other emotions. what a concept. ive read literal satire comics that understood his character more(shoutout to the What The--?! series). it just had me waiting for the 'gotcha! this wolverine is actually 3 dimensional!' but it never fucking got there. it was amusing in the beginning, but by like half way in, i did not give a single fuck about this guy. they tried to give him some emotional moment(like. the only emotional moment in the entire film) but it just...lacked the emotion. just 'heres my sad backstory. are u sad now?' and then they did the SAME THING AGAIN no we get it man u were at the bar instead of with ur friends and u went on a classic wolverine style berserker rage. why should we care tho?

i mean, sure, they could use the excuse of being in the type of depressive state where ur emotions numb out(speaking as a mfer with the came curse), and yea hes not the kinda guy to open up about his emotions unless he really trusts someone(which he would likely distance himself from forming connections with others after that kind of trauma), but with cassandra nova right there there was a missed opportunity for elaborating on that. for digging deep into his brain and telling why this fucked him up so bad. imo, if i were to write it, with everyone he gets close to he puts upon the expectation for himself that hes at fault for anything that happens to them. that he needs to be the savior, even in a friendship. to prove himself to be worth something. especially after a life of being convinced hes a burden by just existing as himself, he needs to have use in order to make up for the fact that hes Logan.

but whos going to save him? isnt he struggling too? whos gonna help you? looking at all the other logans across the multiverse, who is the wolverine? why do you keep falling for the same patterns no matter where you are and who you are? deadpool called sabretooth queen and she/her'd logan within like 5 seconds of eachother. that was pretty good ig

final verdict:

yknow. i think i get now the way fans reacted the way they did tho.

the other night i was rewatching the movie Hackers with my mom, saying that it was obvious the creators mustve known a lot about hacking in order to do such a good parody of it, out of love for the craft….but my knowledge of hacking is pretty minimal, so i have no actual fucking clue if that assumption is accurate or not. im just going off of a ton of references to hacking. for all i know, real hackers couldve hated this movie.

and thats how the average non comic fan saw this movie. they saw a buncha characters and references and thought ‘damn, they must really love the source material’ without knowing how much of a kick in the face it felt like to watch them get used and butchered like that.