#last chapter should be up Sunday! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brummiereader · 22 days ago

Text

Binding Love (Part One/ Dark!Tommy)

Summary: After a morning of negotiations between lawyers, the day goes wasted when Tommy takes it upon himself to interfere in court proceedings. With your muddled intentions made clear, and your husband's declarations of love forcefully made known, a blazing row erupts between you both in the bustling streets of Birmingham. Will you ever be free from your husband's restraints? Do you even want to be?

Warnings: Dark!Tommy, language, violence, psychological mind games, controlling behaviour, toxic relationship, manipulative behaviour, psychological abuse, mutual pining, angst.

Word Count: 5K

Authors Note: For the purpose of depicting the manipulative behaviour of Tommy in the first part of this chapter, I've taken it upon myself to have radios become a common feature in cars before they were. We'll pick back up from the first scene again in the last chapter. The song playing on the car radio is called "Release Me" by Engelbert Humperdinck.

[Masterlist] [Trailer] [Main Masterlist]

" Please release me, let me go. For I don't love you, anymore..." the sound of your husband's humming voice accompanied by the taunting song and a sharp turn of the cars rumbling wheels on the gritted ground, jolted you from the daze your tired body had drifted into.

"Tommy...Tommy!" you began to frantically cry into the darkness, faced once again with the horrors sleep had dulled for you. A slither of light beaming through a crack in the rear headlights, the salty air of sand and kelp your only comfort to stop your racing heart from plunging you into complete obscurity.

"Tommy please! I'm...I'm sorry! I was scared...you were scaring me!" Your stifled breath wept with desperation as you begged for mercy before panic took over, and you succumbed to the tight enclosure.

Losing track of the countless halting stops, the speeding turns as Tommy's foot pressed down onto the pedal with determination. You had given up on trying to route your husband's destination and fallen into a weary haze of slumber. But with Tommy's clear attempt to awaken you, and bless his lonely thoughts with the beauty of your strangled cries, he had also awoken the searing panic within you once again.

How many hours had it been...fuck, how many hours had it been?! How much air was left?!, your frightened mind scrambled to make sense of the amount of time that had passed through the music loudly confusing any tangible answer you could come to.

" I can't breathe...Oh my god, I...I can't breathe!" your chest heaved in a frenzy, relenting to the alarming situation you had distanced yourself from as your hands searched to ground your body before you let what was left of your sanity slip into the terror your husband was hellbent on inflicting on you.

" Tommy! I...I can't breathe!" your hand flew to your chest as adrenaline coursed through the blood pumping furiously throughout your body. Every muscle reacting in a torturous plea for you to flee the inescapable.

" Maybe you should stop screaming, sweetheart" Tommy's voice rose above the music as a wicked smirk etched on the corner of his curling lips. His arm resting casually on the open window with a lit cigarette perched between his fingers as one would on a leisurely Sunday drive in the country.

" You bastard!" you snapped forgetting yourself, throwing the warranted insult his way as a low chuckle obnoxiously echoed back to you in response.

" And to think I put a cushion in there for you" he teased, if only to spur on the enticing game of cat and mouse he had become the sole player of.

" Don't say I don't do anything nice for you, eh?" a slither of irritation seethed at the end of his tongue for the chaos he blamed you for. For the cascade of selfish decisions you had made he blamed on the day's events.

How could you have done this to him, after all...no. After everything he'd lovingly done for you to keep you away from those that wanted to ruin what you shared.

" I hate you...I fucking hate you! I never loved you Tommy, just like your fucking song! I don't love you! Are you listening?! " your screams continued as you thrashed your limbs against the walls. Desperately trying to garner a reaction out of him as your lungs heaved for the stolen air, panic had snatched from them.

And a reaction you got, but one you'd be thankful to not have witnessed when Tommy shifted in his seat, loosening the collar of his shirt from the restricting pang of anger bobbing in his throat. His jaw clenching into a grating sound of teeth grinding on top of one another as the blue of his eyes eclipsed with a foreboding shade of coal at the lies you had spoken to scorch him. Lies he knew were only said to fool yourself into believing, rather than succumbing to the truth that your doting husband was, and always would be, the only man you would ever love.

You were just...tired. A knock to the head would make anyone confused, Tommy told the distasteful burn that had settled on his chest as the calloused pads of his fingers turned the volume up to drown out any more unwarranted admissions that would have him act out on the sting you had pierced him with.

"I'm warning you, eh? You hear me? One more fucking word Y/N, I dare you!" Tommy's voice loudly ordered with a shuddering tone of control as his eyes narrowed in on the road in front of him. His leather gloves snapping with a crisp creak under his curling fingers as they tightly grasped around the steering wheel. Tethering on the idea of stopping the car to an abrupt halt and dealing with you by hand.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, your trembling bottom lip steadied itself from any further statements you'd be a fool to make as the toying melody lulled your weeping body back into hopelessness. Your eyes drifting to the narrow rays of the sun fading with each passing minute.

Hovering your fingers over the dusting of light, you began to quietly mouth the tormenting lyrics of the song Tommy had chosen to accompany your long drive into the unknown as you let your body sink into itself.

Feeling a strangled cry build in your throat, one last frustrated thrash of your elbow against the side of the car boot had a flash of light searing into the darkness, causing your head to turn from the glaring brightness of the outside world now beaming into your enclosure.

" Shit, shit..." your head turned in a panic to see the back headlight gone, your pent-up hopelessness now your saviour.

Whipping your head back to the sound of your husband's toying lips whistling in tune to the song, your heart pounded rapidly against your chest as you waited for him to acknowledge his taillight skimming across the road. But when no reaction came, you tempted fate and slipped your arm through the open gap, frantically waving your hand in hopes somebody would see.

Hearing the rumbling sound of a car approaching, you pushed your arm further through the shards of glass as you desperately tried to alert its drivers' attention.

" No, no, no..." you cried, pulling away to see the car disappear into the fading sun, hurtling all despair back to you in a strangled muffle of cries.

Readying yourself for the burning sting once again, you pushed your bloody hand back into the sharp teeth of your only escape, forcing it through until your shoulder met the door of your prison one last time.

And that's when you felt it. The lock that had kept you captive for countless hours in the dark.

In for a penny, in for a..., your teeth bit down onto your wobbling bottom lip, dried with a layer of blood from the dripping gash on your forehead.

Steadying your heavy breaths from backing out, you pushed your thumb down onto the chrome button, committing to your escape and the horrors you would face if your husband caught you.

With a subtle click, the door effortlessly popped open as you pulled yourself up with shaky hands, throwing the weight of your body out onto the road without care to any car approaching or injury you'd likely sustain as Tommy's foot slammed on the breaks to a screeching halt.

" Now just where do you think you're going..." Tommy's eyes narrowed, the rolled cylinder of tobacco resting between his plump lips puffing a cloud of smoke with each quiet breathy observation as he flicked the wing mirror with his finger to see the reflection of you scrambling to your feet.

" Help! Somebody!" You screamed in horror as you ran barefoot along the gritted ground. Only a thin slip covering your modesty, Tommy hadn't given you a chance to conceal with his unexpected appearance that morning.

"Shit" Tommy huffed throwing the door open, discarding the burnt cigarette from his mouth as he bolted after your sprinting feet.

" C'mon darling, don't make a scene!" you heard his gravelly voice call after you as you dared to look back to see him chasing towards you with a malicious smile of amusement toying on the corners of his lips.

With no sign of life but the two of you on the long winding road, you took your chances in the bushy hedgerow, heading down the dangerous coastal path with screams of terror as Tommy stayed hot on your heels behind you.

But your frantic escape and pleas for help would go unheard among the thrashing sound of waves, leaving only the echos of the melody coming from Tommy's abandoned car in the middle of the lone country road, and the ticking of its blinkers counting the moments down until he caught you.

"Please release me, let me go. For I don't love you anymore. To waste our lives would be a sin..."

One month earlier...

"Shit, I'm sorry. I don't..I don't have any change" your cheeks reddened with embarrassment as your fingers fumbled with the small, empty purse. Not a single shilling nestled within its velvety padding. Not a single penny to your name.

"My husband wi..." you stopped yourself, feeling a fool to have even referred to him as such, that you were going to rely on him to settle your fare, knowing full well he'd find enjoyment paying on your behalf with the proceedings set to take place in a moment's time.

" S'alright, Mrs Shelby. On the house" the taxi driver nodded to you in the rear mirror with a bushy bearded smile. For he was not foolish enough to follow in suit with your slipping tongue and make the wife of the leader of the Peaky Blinders pay a sum so trivial it could see him costing a finger his profession deemed vital.

" Thank you, Jeffery. But after today I'll no longer be, Mrs Shelby" you stated, opening the car door to a gust of autumn air nipping at your cheeks, your heels stepping onto the cobbled street, that paved your way to the grand building where a judge would decide on your future.

Strutting into the towering structure, you held your head high as your heels loudly echoed along the marble floors. But as you pushed through the heavy court doors, your mustered confidence took a sudden blow when the room turned to face you and the man that would reside over your divorce proceedings, scolded you like a child in front of a class of their peers.

" You're late, Mrs Shelby" he looked past the rims of his glasses as your pace slowed in a desperate attempt to muffle your poor choice of shoes and the unwarranted attention it garnered.

"I'm sorry your honor" you apologised, shamed in front of everyone as you hurried past the set of blue eyes following your every step. His piercing stare roaming over your body from head to toe, to every curve your fitted dress accentuated. His head leaning into your musky perfume filled with notes of amber and vanilla that drifted past him in a gentle greeting as you took your seat next to your solicitor. The intoxicating smell enough to cause a breathy exhale of repressed want from his throat. Tommy.

Feeling the intent stare of your husband boring into your heated cheek, you whipped your head up from the documents between your painted nails to see Tommy leant back in his chair, admiring your choice of outfit from between the men of law that separated you. Why did he have to look at you that way? He was doing it on fucking purpose.

Snapping your eyes away, a screeching sound of a chair scraped along the floor, followed by the heavy footsteps of your husband approaching.

" Darling" he greeted, taking the opportunity to approach you and the tray of refreshments stood feet from your desk as the fumbling Judge lay out your weighty file in front of him with the help of his assistant.

"Tommy" you replied, eyes fixed on the documents in front of you, trying your upmost to shield yourself from the pull of his daily dose of sweet-talking.

Scoffing a chuckle, Tommy raised the glass tumbler of water to his grinning lips. Amused by the cold shoulder you were adamant on giving him.

"Quite the entrance. Was that little show all for me..." You suddenly felt the heat of his body next to you, his distinct cologne of tobacco intertwined with whiskey and soot filling your senses. "...eh?" he perched himself on the edge of your desk as he leant into your ear, his fiery breath sending a ripple of goosebumps down your neck as the beginnings of a cocky smile curled against your skin.

" No" you firmly stated, feeling the remaining surges of embarrassment making laps in your stomach as you raised your eyes to see the smug smirk of enjoyment plastered across his face. Did you do it for him? Were you still seeking his attention, his approval after all this time, after everything that had happened?

" You sure, sweetheart?" his brows knitted together, mischief twinkling in the corners of his creased eyes as his hand reached under the table, roaming under your dress until his fingers met the clasps of your garter and unclipped one.

"Hmm, such a tease" he chuckled to himself, feeling the sting of your hand slapping his fingers away. Toying with your emotions and the agreed boundaries he was unwilling to follow once again.

Whether it be to purposely play with you or sheer refusal to admit he was the one that had pushed you to this point. Tommy didn't care. For your husband would never abide by anyone, let alone follow life's rules that weren't from the beat of his own drum.

" Be seated everyone" the Judge ordered, bringing your racing heart down to a manageable speed as Tommy scooted off the wooden table onto two feet, adjusting his suit before reluctantly playing along to the six-month temper tantrum he believed you was having.

As the dreary morning of papers being sent back and forth between lawyers, of decisions over the custody of your shared child continued. Tommy made it his sole mission to find an issue with every suggestion raised. Addressing only you throughout the entire ordeal as his generously paid lawyer, buried his head in his hands with frustration.

" Mr Shelby" the Judge's voice rose above Tommy's interruptions as he wiped the bead of sweat that had settled on his temple. A huff of defeat in response to the insult that he, a man of his position, couldn't keep his courtroom and its sole troublemaker under control.

" Two Sundays out of the month, Y/N? I won't allow it, understood? Sunday is family time and we'll spend it together, whether you like it or not" Tommy rolled his shoulders, straightening the lapels of his suit jacket as the Judge desperately tried to bring order to the room.

"Why don't we go back home and end this fucking circus, eh? I'll make love to you, we'll take Elsie out for an afternoon with the horses..." Tommy trailed off into a tangent of things he'd rather be doing than sitting in the stuffy room he was currently forced to be in with a wigged man telling him what he could and couldn't do with his family.

"Mr Shelby, I beseech you" the Judge removed his glasses, peering at your husband's lawyer to keep control of his client.

" You really want to do this, eh? To our daughter? Y/N? Y/N?!" the last of Tommy's patience quickly evaporated as you snapped your head away from his bellowing voice to the window beside you, tears spilling over your cheeks.

" Mr Shelby!" The magistrate slammed his hammer down onto its wooden pillow as an exasperated sigh at the tiresome morning loudly left his throat.

Ignoring the resonating boom of the wooden hammer, Tommy rested his arm on the back of his lawyer's chair as he leaned in. Whispering his orders into his ear as his scorching stare stayed fixed on you.

Daring to challenge the piercing pair of eyes burning into you, you raised your head as your husband's lawyer approached the bench with his orders.

Gaze drifting up from his clenched fists, you were met with nothing but anger. Anger at your refusal to bring an end to the whole charade, for your unwillingness to let him back into your martial bed over a paddy he believed would fizzle out within a week's time. How had things gotten to this point? Or more precisely, what had your dear husband done to push you to this point?

" Proceedings are postponed until further notice" the Judge's damning words shocked you out of your husband's hold on your every thought as your eyes darted to your lawyer.

" All rise" the portly guard beside him announced as those present dispersed from the room, leaving you with darting eyes scanning the empty rows of chairs until they settled on Tommy, and the satisfied smirk he was maliciously sending your way.

"What did you do? Tommy! What did you do?!" you shouted, storming over to him as he rose from his seat. Unbothered by your fit of rage and the role he played in its sudden appearance.

"You're so angry all the time, darling" he replied, dismissing your questions as his hands snaked over your waist, playfully pouting down at your widening eyes as if the entire ordeal was nothing but a small spat between a married couple.

"You might wanna get that checked love, can't be good for you, now can it?" He continued to rile you up after getting his way as you pushed him off you, feeling fooled by your lawyers guarantee that not even your husband could bring a halt to court proceedings after the lengthy battle you had already fought to get this point.

Tears settling between your lashes, you shook your head in disbelief at another delay to your freedom as you ran from the courtroom and your husband calling your name.

" Y/N!" Tommy's voice bellowed into the chilly blue sky as he followed after your hurried steps down to the bustling main road of Birmingham's town center.

"Hey!" He grabbed hold of your hips, spinning you around to face him and the tears streaming down your reddened cheeks.

"Hey..." he hushed your cries as you clutched your arms around your body from the bitter breeze of winter slowly rolling in.

"Here" he pulled his black overcoat from his shoulders, wrapping it around your trembling body, you shrugged off the moment it's warmth enveloped you.

No matter what he did, you wouldn't let him in. Why wouldn't you fucking let him back in?!, Tommy thought to himself, throwing his coat on the hood of his car. Oblivious or rather, ignorant to how he had toyed with you moments earlier.

" Why are you doing this, Tommy? We agreed to this. You agreed to this!" a sigh of defeat had your head turning in frustration to the cobbled ground below you. A stream of tears following in tow.

"Forced my hand more like" his huffy response snapped back as he fished in his suit jacket for a cigarette.

Eyes cast down, Tommy's stare darted between your tear-ridden cheeks and the morning dash of men and women hurrying to their places of work as you both stood in silence.

"Hey, look at me" he cupped your chin, turning your head to face him as he shuffled from foot to foot with a breathy exhale. "We'll deal with this in private, alright?" his brows raised, only to be welcomed with your rolling eyes of skepticism on what the word private actually meant to your husband whose idea of a fair deal was only if he was the one making all the deciding factors.

"Y/N?" he waited on your answer, softly brushing a lock of hair from your cheek when his eyes caught the sight of a police car sat guzzling gas on the opposite side of the road, and the prick inside he'd learnt had been hounding you for months on the whereabouts of his colleague.

Jaw tightening, Tommy watched as the detective gave a two-finger salute before turning the wheels of his car into the road and driving off with a pleased smirk. A clear provocation to rile up the notorious gangster on a day he knew Tommy's reputable temper could see him snap given the right push, in the right direction.

" Y/N?" his attention flew back to you as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. " I don't want this" he held your gaze as the end of his cigarette sizzled inches from your cold cheeks.

" I love you" his stare intensified as he wet his lips, his hands reinforcing his words with a stern shake to your face. " I can't lose you. If you want me to change...fuck, I'll change, alright?"

" For god's sake Tommy, that's not...not what I want from you" You felt a surge of disappointment plummet to the bottom of your stomach at the empty promises you had heard countless times before. Hoping that for once, just once, he'd say something that could reassure you enough to put a stop to the yearning you had to reconcile without a shit load of regret following shortly after it.

"I was just keeping you safe, darling" his hands dropped to your arms, tenderly rubbing them within his palms.

" Is that what you want me to do? Pull back my men? Is that what this is all about, eh?" He continued with his refusal to acknowledge the lengths he'd gone to keep control over every waking moment of your day.

" You've given up on us, haven't you?" Tommy huffed at your silence and the reaction it had on his grating need to have your undivided attention at all times.

"Just know this is all on you, eh? Our daughters' parent's separated because of you. Great fucking example you're showing her, darling. Well done" Tommy shook his head, viscously switching his mood back to his bitter brooding over your lack of response, and the expected answer you were unwilling to give.

Your silence being enough to make clear where you stood on the matter, you turned to leave as his hurtful words settled in your chest. Burrowing down to your heart, to the pang of guilt you felt for the stress you was putting your six-year-old daughter through.

"Where are you going?" He stopped you from taking another step as he grabbed hold of your arm.

" Into town" you attempted to shrug off his grip as you watched the barrage of questions form behind his eyes.

" You need some money?" He slipped his burning cigarette between his lips as he pulled out a bundle of cash, flicking through the notes.

" No" you huffed, folding your arms away from him as a wave of embarrassment that you didn't have the money for a taxi fare, let alone a trip into town without your husband giving you your weekly pocket money, scorched you with humiliation.

" Why not?" Tommy's brow furrowed as he threw his cigarette to the ground. " Y/N, why not?" His question turned into an urgent demand to know what had you needing to walk into the city for something he could get one of his men to fetch for you.

Fuck sake, you sighed to yourself, feeling the familiar tone of interrogation seeping though his questions. You just wanted space, space away from the house you still found yourself sharing with him, from the constant reminder of happy memories spent together, from him, from him and his fucking need to know your whereabouts every hour of every second of the day.

"You have someone else paying for this outing into town, is that why you don't need my money, eh? Tommy's paranoia started to turn it's ugly head into an onslaught of never-ending questions.

"Going on another fucking date, hm? Like you did with that pig" his grip tightened, releasing his pent-up anger out on your reddening arms as he glared at you with eyes burning with enough fury to heat your face.

" It's was a friendly dinner..." You sighed with frustration at his inability to stop himself before he pushed you further away with words intended to hurt.

" You meeting someone, Y/N? You fucking somebody, eh?" His voice rose, letting go of the little self-restraint he still possessed as he abruptly pulled you into his body.

" Why you doing this to me, hm?" His voice suddenly softened into desperate pleas anyone would think was an end to his anger. But his tight hold on your body as his cheek pressed against yours, the sound of his gritted teeth grinding together against your ear, enough to tell you otherwise that his fury was seconds away from bubbling over.

" Tommy stop...enough!" You managed to push him away as you turned to leave, refusing to withstand another second of the man that had replaced your once doting husband.

" You won't get rid of me that easily, darling! I won't let it happen!" His voice bellowed into the soot filled air, garnering the attention of those within ear shot. "You marry a Shelby, you stay married! You hear me?! You stay, fucking married!"

" Fuck!" His hands slammed against the door of his car as his lawyer nervously approached, announcing his presence with the clearing of his throat.

" What?!" Tommy's head snapped back to the fumbling man with a file of papers requiring his attention.

" See that those get lost" Tommy's demeanor quickly simmered, keeping the only document that held any interest before piling the rest into the arms of his lawyer.

Sinking into the driver's seat, his true intentions, written in the words of his solicitor, found their way into the glove box as one of his men slid into the passenger's side.

" What's the plan boss?'" the peaked soldier questioned, his voice drowning out into a distant muffle of unintelligible words as Tommy's eyes followed you walking along the cobbled path. His fingers hovering over the ignition, ready to leave when you turned back to look at him with locks of hair dancing in front of your eyes, cheeks rosy red from the chill that had settled over the foggy city. The sight twisting an unbearable urge within him to have you walk back to him, to have you back in his arms.

Were you coming back to him?, Tommy waited, a breath of anticipation catching in his throat as you stood from afar before the ends of your dress turned with a gust of wind, pushing you around the corner out of sight.

" Boss?" The peaky asked, waiting for his orders as his hand rested on the handle of the door.

" Follow her"

" Fuck..." you stifled the steady flow of tears trickling down your cheeks as you darted into a narrow bricked path behind a row of shops. A face as famous as yours was, and would always be a topic of conversation, even more so with a set of tears covering it.

How had it come to this? Was it after the birth of your daughter? No, no, before then? When you was dating?", you plagued yourself with the same frequency of questions your husband tired you with.

No matter how many questions your weary thoughts tormented you with, the truth was, you couldn't pinpoint when your marriage fell apart. It had happened slowly, small changes gone unnoticed. And then, in true Tommy fashion, accelerated to a point where the ignored had become glaringly obvious.

Yet still, wrenching pangs of yearning had you feeling like you couldn't live without him as long sleepless nights dragged on. The heat of his body absent from under the sheets of your martial bed. He was all you had ever known. And he knew it. He knew it.

"You'll pay privy to his crimes when I finally get him, Mrs Shelby. You and your daughter" a voice snatched you from the beckoning memories of your husband's arm wrapped tightly around your waist.

" Leave me alone" your eyes snapped up as you blinked your tears away, pulling yourself from the detective that had tracked you down for a second time that week.

" You're making a mistake" he caught your arm, forcing you to face his insistent inquiries into your husband.

"For the last time, I don't know anything. Now let me go" you echoed the countless responses you had already given.

One dinner had landed you not only at the brunt end of Tommy's raging anger, that you had dared to entertain someone of the opposite sex that was neither blood nor bound to you by marriage, but the watchful eye of your date's colleague, adamant on finding what he believed would be his partner's dead body, murdered at the hands of your husband after a fit of jealousy.

" I can offer you protection, away from him. All you have to do..." He slipped his details into your hand before you abruptly put an end to his concerns for your safety.

" I said, leave me alone" you pulled his hand off you, tired of being man-handled, of being expected to appease every living fucking creature of the opposite sex.

"You'll be next, Mrs Shelby. Mark my words!" He shouted to you as you drifted back into the bustling streets, his words leaving a harrowing sense of dread tightening around your throat as you shoved his card within the warmth of your pocket.

" Tommy doesn't share his toys!" The last of his warnings rang back to you as you leaned against a lonely lamp post, steadying the weight of your body against its metal frame when the world you were trying to flee from appeared in the corner of your eyes in the form of a peaked cap soldier watching from afar.

In sickness and in health, until death do us part. Would you ever be free from the binding love that had chained you together? Or would fate echo the words of your shared vows spoken on your wedding day?

Next Part

Tag list: @peakyswritings @justrainandcoffee @garrison-girl-08 @meadows5 @lavender-haze-01

@strangeobsessed @ttae-yong @lemonwithstupidity @lindsay00000 @mischievouslittlecreature

@jbrownta @lau219

266 notes · View notes

milksnake-tea · 4 months ago

Text

✩ CHAPTER SUMMARY : Sunday (unwillingly) engages in his first acts of crime on the Planet of Indulgence.

✩ SERIES SYNOPSIS : Following the catastrophe of the Charmony Festival, rather than in one of Penacony's hospitals or prisons, Sunday awakens right in the base of one of the most notorious criminals in the galaxies. With nowhere else to go, he's left to follow you, the Stellaron Hunters' medic, in his attempts to become accustomed to his new life.

✩ WORD COUNT : 5.76k

✩ TAGLIST : @vynicity , @vxnuslogy , @https-mika @greyrain23 , @red-ninja15, @arienic , @immahuman , @sund4ykisser , @mysteriaqueen , @kiopanxp , @isa-l0v3r , @hesper-houkai-kat , @gamekillera , @nayukiyukihira , @randomidk-123 , @universetrash , @forevernyeong , @thedepartedcryptid , @heyhazelnut101 , @1000-leaves , @lowkeyren , @zhayur , @jellofishuu , @kascar-chronicle , @azaleaflowerr , @neigee , @fallintothechasm , @veritusratio , @astolary , @xphantasmagoriax , @semi-orangeapple , @ezra1yn , @xynthevoid , @apinu , @crysangria , @shenwi (send me an ask off anon if you want to be added !! please specify that it’s for this series)

✩ ADDITIONAL NOTES : do you know how long i wanted to use this chapter title. it was supposed to be for chapter two but GRGGRRGGR anyways it's here now !!! this is definitely my favorite chapter to write so far, it is JUICY so have fun guys !!!

<< previous || series masterlist || next chapter >>

Euphrosyne is a planet bathed in violet.

The second you step into one of the many overcrowded streets, the color invades your vision. Just about everything is bathed in this vivid purple-pinkish haze like a filter. Conversation flows almost as quickly as money does, and the sky and the stars are replaced with billboards and advertisements displaying the next big thing.

What you like about economic metropolises like these is that no one bats you an eye. They’re all too busy running to snatch the latest trending product before anyone else does. Here, it’s everyone for themselves, and being a second too late could be the difference between life and death.

“Keep up, princess,” you call over your shoulder. “Would be a shame to lose you so soon.”

You adjust your baseball cap onto your head to make sure it doesn’t get swept away by the crowd. Behind you, you hear Sunday maneuvering his way through dozens before he’s able to break free and catch up to you. He shakes his head, his wing feathers ruffled in irritation.

“I never thought I’d see a planet worse than Penacony,” Sunday mutters distastefully. He swiftly pats down his shoulder where someone had bumped into him. “No one here seems to know what basic manners are.”

“That’s high-end capitalism for you,” you laughed. “Everyone thinks they’re the center of the universe.”

You keep your eyes on the sky; looking forward will get you nowhere. But up there, that’s where you can find direction. There, there are the neon lights, the flashing signs of luxury cars, the skyscrapers that are only accompanied by the monorail that stretches throughout the planet.

It doesn’t take long before you find your target. Among the neon buildings and flashing billboards, an ivory tower shines like a diamond in the rough, a refined royal in the midst of puffed-up nobles. Its crown is made up of large, golden letters with a glow that can rival suns.

Many, many years ago, when you’d first joined the Hunters, Kafka had taken you to a similar store - same company, different branch, different star system. You weren’t like Sunday, who was starting anew, but she had insisted you at least get a new coat. That new coat ended up turning into three, with an add-on of five pairs of shoes and the entire sunglasses section.

A small smile slips onto your face at the memory. It’s been a while since you’d last hung out with Kafka. You should invite her out again sometime.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Sunday’s sharp intake of breath. His eye twitches as he’s once again pushed by some upper-class passerby.

Smiling sympathetically, you offer your wrist to him. “Here, hold onto me.”

He contemplates your offer for a total of five seconds before someone barrels past him again. Irritation flashes over his face like lightning and his halo begins to glow threateningly.

Before Sunday can commit his first murder in broad daylight, you reach out and grab his wrist so you can tug him behind you.

“Why isn’t anyone bumping against you?” Sunday complains, although relief from no longer being tossed around like a ragdoll bleeds through.

“No idea,” you reply, checking to make sure his halo has cooled down, which it has. “Maybe they just know their place.”

“Of course.”

You feel Sunday’s hand flex under your hold on him, but he makes no move to shove you off him. Apparently, he finds you to be more bearable than the crowd - although that isn’t exactly a difficult feat.

“Don’t worry, you’ll only have to bear with this for a little longer. We’re almost there.” As you finish speaking, you pick up the pace, skillfully slipping through the sea of people with Sunday following close behind.

Windows upon windows of mannequins adorned in designer clothing greet you when you finally arrive at the twelve-floor mall. Despite the brand’s renown, there’s no line to get in; instead, there are bouncers who scan you up and down to make sure you’re a customer, not a thief.

They scrutinize you and Sunday as you stroll in, but one look at your attire and Sunday’s perfect posture and they nod approvingly, stepping aside. You smirk a little at how easily they let you pass - prejudice’s a bitch, but when it works in your favor, you certainly don’t complain.

The doors open like gates to heaven with a whoosh. Workers dressed in suits and ties bow and greet you as you enter. Their smiles are almost as fake as Sunday’s; it’s actually impressive.

“Welcome,” they speak in one, pleasant chorus that oozes with customer service training. “How may we help you today?”

You speed past them, heading straight for the elevators. The workers’ smiles didn’t move at your behavior, in fact, you’d wager they were relieved you didn’t start yapping away at them. You hear the chorus bid you farewell as you tug Sunday into one of the many glass elevators, joining other well-dressed clients.

In some planets, the wealthy were as powerful as gods, and the tower made sure to emphasize that. Ascending the floors, watching the workers shrink and shrink until they were nothing more than insignificant ants, you wonder if this is how the Aeons felt upon ascending.

But then you remember that Aeons were unfeeling, neutral entities who probably regarded mortal lives as having even less value than insects.

“Say,” Sunday says suddenly. You shuffle closer to him in order to hear him over the other patrons. “Weren’t you supposed to be getting breakfast?”

You blink. Oh, right. That completely slipped your mind.

“I’ll get it later,” you shrug it off.

“It isn’t good to work on an empty stomach,” Sunday chides you exasperatingly. A grin slides onto your face.

“Aw, are you worried about me?” you coo, batting your eyelashes teasingly. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on drinking anytime soon.”

“That’s not-” Sunday sighs and shakes his head, pointedly turning away from you. You chuckle, sneaking a peek at the displayed floor number at the top of the elevator. Two more floors to go.

When you finally leave the elevator, you’re greeted with what is essentially a palace. Much like its exterior, the interior is layered with marble floors, chandeliers, and reeks of wealth.

Suits and tuxedos of various colors line one side of the room, ranging from a distinguished black to a bold neon pink for those who like to stand out. The other side presents more casual wear, with comfortable shirts and pants that look simple but cost more than an average IPC member’s salary.

But what made all of them special, other than their superior quality and outrageous prices, were the open backs and windows that allowed for wings, claws, or any other limbs that may need freedom to move.

“You asked about your wings,” you explained to a befuddled Sunday, “and like I said, it’ll be tough to get them back to how they used to be. But it isn’t impossible.”

You stride over to the fancier side of the floor and pluck out a backless high-collared blouse.

“First step is letting them breathe.”

You hold the blouse out in front of Sunday in order to picture how it’d look on him. The darker colors highlight his feather-like hair and golden eyes, and the style fits. Nodding in approval, you turn it around to show Sunday.

“What do you think?”

Sunday’s ichor-filled eyes take on a more calculating gleam as he takes the blouse in his hands.

“It isn’t terrible,” he admits begrudgingly. “Although the color is different to what I’m used to wearing.”

You stare at the navy dress shirt he has on. “Is that right?”

Sunday rolls his eyes, his wings flapping a few times in annoyance. “Blade’s color palette doesn’t exactly match my personal preferences, I’ll have you know.”

You chuckle. “Alright, alright. Well, we have an entire floor to choose from. Pick out what you like, and I’ll go see if I can find anything for you.”

You move to put the blouse back, only to stop when Sunday drapes the blouse over his arm. He raises a brow at you as if daring you to question him. Raising your hands in surrender, you head off to find him an oversized hoodie because everyone needs an oversized hoodie - and you were not about to let Sunday be the exception.

You find said hoodie in no time - it’s relatively plain, as all fancy clothes tend to be, but the material lives up to its price. After picking out a few more items, your arms are pretty much covered in what will soon be Sunday’s wardrobe. Hopefully. If they pass the test, that is.

Taking a step back, you scan the shop for Sunday. There aren’t a lot of other customers outside of the two of you, although that’s to be expected, considering the target audience of this floor.

Your search proves unsuccessful, leaving you to assume that the Halovian had set off to the changing rooms.

“Princess, you in there?” you call out once you arrive, earning a few weird looks from nearby staff. Sure enough, a tired sigh responds from one of the stalls, giving away Sunday’s location. You don’t have to see him to know that he’s rolling his eyes.

“Yes, I’ll be out in a moment,” he replies. You hear the shuffling of cloth before he opens the door.

A low whistle leaves you at the sight of his new outfit. A black turtleneck sweater snugly hugs his body from under a chestnut wool coat that reaches just below his knees, with dress pants that match his sweater outlining his long legs.

“I’m starting to think you could wear a trash bag and still look good,” you joke. Like a baby bird, Sunday tilts his head at the compliment.

“Thank you?” he says, the tilt in his voice making it sound more like a question. His gaze falls onto the bundle of clothes that hang off your arm.

“I’m being serious!” You step into the rather spacious fitting room (perks of being in a high-end store) and set the clothes you’d picked out down. “If I’m ever in a situation where I need pretty privilege, I’m stealing you.”

Sunday closes the door behind you, taking great care not to accidentally shut it on his coat. His collection of clothes are fewer, which made sense considering that he was on the formal side and the fact that he was pickier than you when it came to fashion.

“I thought you didn’t like darker colors,” you comment, reaching into your back pocket and bringing out a pocket knife.

Before Sunday can question why you’re bringing out a knife in the middle of a clothing store, you sit down on a nearby stool and begin cutting off tags from the clothes you picked out for him. Alarmed, Sunday’s wings flare up.

“What-” Thankfully, he has the sense to lower his voice to a startled whisper. “What are you doing?”

Your fingers are fast as you rid each article of clothing from its tag. It’s evident that you’ve been doing this for years - and you have. Out of all of the Stellaron Hunters, you hate spending money the most, and stealing is fun.

“You didn’t think we were actually paying for all of this, did you?” you tease. “This place is crazy expensive.”

“...Somehow, I’m no longer surprised,” Sunday mutters, a layer of resignation and defeat in his tone. “But there are employees everywhere here. How do you plan to deal with them?”

“That,” you sing, “is a secret.”

Sunday furrows his brows, but doesn’t push. Cutting through the last of the tags, you stand up and motion for Sunday to give you the tags on the clothes he’s currently wearing.

The coat is easy; all Sunday has to do is slide it off and give it to you. It’s the turtleneck and the pants that are a bit tougher to work with.

You hear Sunday’s throat constrict as you reach behind him, your finger hooking at the high collar to find the tag. His wings bristle, and his muscles tense. You can practically hear the thump of his heart with how close you are.

“Relax,” you murmur, Sunday flinching at how close you are to his ear. “I’m not going to cut you.”

“I’m aware,” he replies, despite the nervousness wavering in his voice. You don’t miss the way his wings stiffen as the blade of your knife ghosts his neck.

Unable to help a glance down, you catch sight of his larger set of wings protruding from the back window in the sweater. Just like when Kafka had brought him in, they’re cramped and stiff, leaving you to wonder how long it had been since he’d last fully extended them. But the feathers seem to be doing better, at least.

“Mx. [Name]?” Sunday breathes out. You blink out of your thoughts.

“Ah, sorry,” you apologize. “I was just thinking.”

Deciding to take pity on the poor thing, you quickly find the tag and pull it up. A swift pull of your knife, a small snap, and it’s over. The tag joins the soon-to-be-burned pile in the corner of the stall, and Sunday heaves a sigh of relief as you step away.

“May I-” he winces at the warble in his voice- “I can do the last one.”

“You sure?” you question, handing it over anyway. “Do you even know how to use a knife?”

“I am not as sheltered as you think,” Sunday says defensively and unconvincingly. You raise your hands in surrender.

“Alright, alright. Just don’t cut yourself.” You stretch, glancing at the stall’s door. “When you’re done with that, take a look at the stuff I got you. Pick out what you like, what you don’t like I’ll either keep or give to Elio.”

Scooping up the fallen tags in your hands, you contemplate setting them on fire right then and there, but decide against it. If you were going to set off the fire alarm, it’d be better to do it after you’d already left the building.

“I’ll be heading out now,” you inform Sunday, crumpling the tags and shoving them away into your inventory. “When you hear the signal, meet me at the elevator and we’ll get out of here.”

Hesitantly, Sunday nods as he hands you back your knife. “And… what is this signal I’m supposed to look out for?”

A mischievous grin creeps onto your face.

“You’ll know.”

—

“I can’t believe you.”

You wave cheerfully to the staff as you leave, and they bow to you, none the wiser that twelve floors above lie their unconscious colleagues. Surprisingly, Sunday keeps up the farce flawlessly as he bids them farewell with a gentle smile before returning to you with an exasperated expression.

“Yes, as you’ve said about five times now,” you say casually, stepping back into the busy streets. Silently, the doors of the store slide closed behind you, the bouncers not sparing you another glance.

“When people say ‘wait for a signal’,” Sunday begins his lecture again, “they usually mean a light or a sound.”

“There was a sound, though?” you point out. Sunday deadpanned.

“The sound of twelve innocent employees knocking their heads on the floor doesn’t count.” He rubs his temple, still trying to process what just happened. “Just what did you do to them anyway?”

“Gas bomb,” you say, eyeing a man who comes dangerously close to hitting you. “Smelled nice, didn’t it?”

“Vanilla, if I recall,” Sunday affirms. “Although I do wonder why I wasn’t affected.”

You hum. “Did you cover your nose in time? The bomb I used was one of the weaker ones.”

Only the roar of the street replies to you. At Sunday’s abrupt silence, you halt in your tracks.

“Princess?” you start, only to falter once your sight falls in line with his.

Displayed proudly on an electronic billboard, snuggled amongst the various advertisements, is a picture of Sunday before the fall. There, his smile is still bright and joyful as he advertises the release of his little sister’s album to the world. He is still the Oak Family Head, still Robin’s beloved older brother, still beloved by the universe.

But all of that is crushed by the big, bold words that underline his photo.

WANTED

DEAD OR ALIVE

2,540,000,000

“Well, I’ll be damned,” you whistle appreciatively. “You’re just a few billion under Silver Wolf, and you haven’t even made your official debut yet. She is not going to be happy when she finds out.”

Sunday still doesn’t respond. When you look to check on him, you expect horror or maybe even despair, but instead, he gazes at the wanted poster with some sort of detachment, and even a little pride.

“Of all the pictures to use, they choose that…” he comments offhandedly, almost offended. You lean over his shoulder to get a better look.

“It’s cute.” You’re already fishing out your phone to take a picture. “The others are gonna love this - come on come on, we have to take a picture.”

A bemused smile slips onto Sunday’s face at your excitement. Playing along, he indulges you and poses beside his wanted poster with a peace sign. Like a mother at her child’s highschool graduation, you snap photos from all angles with the skill of a professional photographer.

“They grow up so fast,” you fake-sob, snorting when Sunday rolls his eyes despite his smile. Once you’ve finished with your impromptu photoshoot, he comes to your side to look over your shoulder as you swiftly text the group chat.

“The Stellaron Hunter… Family?” Sunday raises a brow as he reads aloud the name of your group chat.

“Yeah,” you chuckle fondly. “Silver Wolf found out that the Express’s group chat is called the Astral Express Family, so we’re parodying them.”

“Is that so?” muses Sunday, intrigued. The corners of his eyes crinkle at your antics in the chat. “For the longest time, I’ve thought of the Express and the Hunters as natural enemies, but you’re much closer than I expected. Even on Penacony, you joined forces in order to defeat me.”

“Well, Sparky has always said that we’re like two sides of the same coin,” you recall.

“Sparky?” Sunday repeats.

“Firefly,” you clarify. “Or Sam, if that’s more familiar.”

“Do you give nicknames to everyone you meet?” Sunday asks, the question more curious rather than demeaning.

You smile. “Only to people I like.”

Your phone pings again before Sunday can fully process the meaning of your words. Checking it, you see Blade - well, it was actually Kafka, since Blade would apparently rather drown than use his phone - sending a photo in the group chat.

Clicking on the attachment reveals a design for presumably Sunday’s official uniform. Midnight black fabric flows in a striking coat with blazing azure and gold accents. Put together, elegant, yet hinting at danger, the outfit bears both a resemblance to Sunday’s previous one and a bold nod to his new life.

“Hey, look,” you beckon, eager to escape Silver Wolf’s vengeful clutches. “Kafka sent over blueprints for your uniform.”

Passing your phone to him, you look back to the billboard. Other than Sunday’s wanted poster, there’s a number of other advertisements and newspapers plastered on it. One such newspaper - or rather, a holographic video of a news reporting - catches your eye.

A Halovian girl sings on the glitchy screen, a swirling glass in one hand and the other raised to the crowd. City lines border on the night sky in a gorgeous horizon behind her, her emerald eyes reflecting the fireworks that burst in little burning lights around her.

You’d be a fool if you didn’t know who this girl was.

“Your sister is beautiful,” you say, watching as she is bathed in the limelight and adoration of the people.

Sunday glances up from your phone, his eyes softening once he catches sight of the advertisement.

“She is, isn’t she?” he says, his voice gentler than you’d ever heard it. Wistfulness and pure adoration fills him, melting the gems in his eyes and relaxing the stiffness in his shoulders. His gloved hand raises, almost hesitantly, before he lays his fingers on the billboard. “She doesn’t look hurt from the fall… Thank goodness.”

A heavy breath of relief leaves him, shouldering the burden of worry that must’ve plagued him since he’d left Penacony. Suddenly, a memory of when he’d been brought in by Kafka flashes in your mind.

His back had been bruised badly, the backs of his wings nearly crushed from the fall. He’d probably hit his head, considering how long it took for him to wake up, and you had no doubt the pain he was in when he did awaken - it had taken one of your stronger medicines to fix him back up.

“You took the brunt of the fall for your sister,” you realize. “No wonder you were in such bad shape when you came in.”

Sunday chuckles hollowly. “Of course I did. It wasn’t her who nearly imprisoned the entirety of Asdana. What older brother would I be if I allowed my kid sister to get hurt from my mistakes?”

“I’m not condemning you,” you say gently. “I would’ve done the same.”

Sunday nods, although he appears unconvinced. Eager to change the subject, he glanced back at your phone screen and the chat.

“Firefly is taking my presence much better than I anticipated,” he notes. You hum.

“Well, she doesn’t have much of a choice, does she?” You lean over to see the conversation - currently, it’s just Sunday and Kafka trading ideas for his new outfit. Surprisingly, he hasn’t made any comment about the black theme.

“We all have pasts we want to leave behind. Being able to start anew and become more than what you were before - that’s what being a Stellaron Hunter is all about. In that sense, we’re no different from the Express.”

You elbow Sunday playfully, making sure not to hit his wings. The Halovian grunts in response, clearly not used to such gestures.

“Sparky was once in your shoes - we all were,” you say, chuckling as Sunday rubs his side (you didn’t even hit him that hard). “So there’s not too many hard feelings… Unless you stabbed her. Did you stab her? She doesn’t like getting stabbed.”

“I’m fairly certain I did not stab Firefly,” Sunday replies, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Then you have nothing to worry about.” Snatching back your phone from Sunday, you begin to move away from the billboard, having caught sight of something far more interesting - a pharmacy. “Come on, let’s go. I just remembered, I have to pick up some groceries.”

“Groceries?” Sunday scans the surrounding streets for any sign of a grocery store or marketplace, which given Euphrosyne’s nature, obviously aren’t there.

“Uh… not those kinds of groceries.”

—

“Why are we here."

“Why do you keep questioning me.”

“Have you perhaps considered that you do a lot of questionable things?”

“Not at all. Now be quiet, the adult is speaking.”

“You-” You kick him in the shin, a traditional method of shutting people up. The employee at the pharmacy’s desk eyes the two of you tiredly - given how late it is, you’re sure they’re nearing the end of their tortuously long shift.

“Sorry about him,” you step in front of Sunday to talk friendly with the clerk. “Long day today?”

They snorted. “You can tell?”

“Yeah,” you laugh softly, already rummaging around in your pocket. Feeling a light, paper stick, you quickly close your fingers around it. “I’d know that look anywhere. Used to see it every time I looked in the mirror.”

That brought a smile to the clerk’s face - a cynical one, yes, but a smile nevertheless. “You don’t have to tell me that.”

“Tell you what,” you snap your fingers. “I was saving this for later, but you look like you need it a lot more than I do.”

From your pocket you withdraw a small lollipop, wrapped in colorful paper with some company name plastered all over it. At the sight of the small treat, a small light shines in their eyes.

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“No no no,” you shush them and push the lollipop into their hands. “It’s my treat. Don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you so much,” the clerk sighs gratefully, unaware of your snake-like eyes watching their every move.

“Of course,” you coo sympathetically (Sunday shudders, evidently disturbed. His face almost makes you break character). “I know just how grueling work is for you all.”

The clerk nods, unwrapping the lollipop and popping it into their mouth. “I can’t thank you enou-”

Their eyes roll, and they collapse unceremoniously onto the register with an unappealing thunk (both you and Sunday wince. That must’ve hurt). Muffled snores soon begin to roll from their lips. A few seconds pass before you prod them with your finger, but they continue to sleep unbothered.

You step back and turn to Sunday with a blank expression. “I did not know that would happen.”

Sunday crosses his arms disapprovingly. Clearly he is not convinced by your impeccable acting.

“You drugged an innocent worker.” He enunciates every word clearly, sharply, and without a shred of emotion. “Again.”

“I didn’t use gas this time though?” you point out, as if that will make it better.

Sunday sighs as you leap over the counter and start stocking up. “You could just pay like a normal, law abiding citizen.”

You pause, raising a brow pointedly. Sunday blinks, before inevitably realizing the irony of telling a Stellaron Hunter with a considerable bounty on their head to follow the law.

“I stand corrected.”

You grin toothily. “Now you’re getting it.”

As you grab bottles of painkillers, allergy medicines, and a plethora of other medications, you hear shuffling behind you. When you glance back, you catch a glimpse of Sunday, taking one of the jackets that you’d stolen from the bag and folding it neatly into a makeshift pillow for the clerk.

“I think they’re bruising,” Sunday mutters, barely concealing panic as he slides the pillow under the clerk’s head.

“What?” You shove the last of the medication into your inventory before turning around to check on the employee.

You may be a criminal, but you aren’t a monster. If you could do anything about it, you’d prefer not to hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. That’s why the concoctions you use with civilians are gentler, only instilling a small nap and short-term memory loss to whoever came in contact with them.

Lightly, you tilt the clerk’s head up to make sure the lollipop was still in their mouth. Thankfully, it was, and predictably, it was almost entirely disintegrated.

“It should kick in in a sec.”

“Sorry?” Worry overtakes Sunday’s voice for a moment.

“Hold on…” you narrow your eyes, closely monitoring the clerk’s state. If you’d made a miscalculation, you’d have to heal them the normal way.

But it seems that the Aeons are looking down on you, for a pale-colored light soon begins to flutter from the clerk. A relieved smile breaks out, and you gently let the clerk’s head rest back on the jacket.

“There we go.”

The light glows briefly, centering around the clerk’s head, and the bruise begins to fade - slowly but surely ebbing away until it’s completely gone. Hopping back over the counter, you pat Sunday on the shoulder.

“They’ll be fine,” you reassure him. “Let’s get out of here before they wake up.”

Wordlessly, he follows, glimpsing back at the clerk one last time before following you out of the pharmacy. For a moment, pure, yet serene silence hangs between the two of you as you walk down the crowded streets.

After what seems like a tranquil eternity, Sunday finally breaks the silence.

“What was that?”

You shift the clothes bags from one hand to the other. “Didn’t you see it back at the clothing store?”

He shakes his head wordlessly, which you can only tell he did because of the slight rustle of feathers against hair.

“When it comes to civilians, my creations are laced with a tiny bit of my power.” Euphrosyne has three moons, and all of them in the violet sky, you notice. “That way, there’s no lasting damage. I mean, it’s not their fault that their company is a good robbery target.”

Sunday ignores the last sentence. “You fed me something similar when we met, if I recall. One second I was in excruciating pain, and the next there was no pain at all. Was that candy also imbued with your abilities?”

“Yep,” you confirm. “Although you got the variant that’s for allies.”

“I figured, considering I didn’t immediately pass out,” Sunday hums out a laugh. “Although… I will say it puts me at ease, knowing that none of those workers were hurt during our escapades.”

You smile teasingly. “Aw, were you having a guilty conscience?”

“Of course,” he huffs.

“Well, you don’t have to anymore,” you say lightheartedly. “Rest assured knowing that out of all the crimes I’ve committed, assaulting someone who didn’t start the fight isn’t one of them.”

“You certainly have a way with words,” sighs Sunday, but he’s smiling. “But thank you, I suppose.”

“You’re very welcome, princess.”

For once, Sunday doesn’t give you a dirty or unimpressed look at the nickname. Rather, he keeps walking by your side. In the dim light of Euphrosyne’s moons, you can barely make out his face, and so you miss the bemused smile that slips onto his face.

“You know,” he says, “you still haven’t eaten yet.”

You stare at him. “Oh. Right.”

Sunday snorts knowingly. “Of course. There’s a food cart near that building over there. You don’t plan on drugging the chef now, do you?”

“Nah,” you wave your hand dismissively. “I respect food cart workers.”

“So you do have morals.”

“How could you say that after I healed someone?”

“You mean, after you did the bare minimum?”

You punch him in the arm. “I’m not liking your attitude, young man.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sunday says cheekily. You roll your eyes, opening your mouth to respond.

But then something wet hits your cheek, and then another joins it. Panicked screams and stomps erupt around you as people rush for shelter. You gingerly touch your cheek. The drop on your cheek doesn’t sting, thankfully.

“These people… quite like to overact, don’t they,” Sunday observes, as everyone stampedes for cover. “It isn’t even raining that much.”

“Eh, you know how rich people are,” you giggle, wiping your cheek. “But this is a surprise. Rain rarely appears on Euphrosyne, at least from what I’ve heard.”

“Agreed-” A man crashes into Sunday, the Halovian barely able to hold the two of them from falling on the pavement.

The man’s things clatter to the floor, one of which being an umbrella that he… apparently didn’t know how to use. Curses spew from the man’s lips, his face turning red as he glares daggers at Sunday. The Halovian’s smile is tight as he straightens the man.

“Please be careful, sir,” he says passive-aggressively, customer service mode activated in full force to hold him back from committing murder. “You could’ve gotten hurt.”

The man doesn’t bother to listen. He shakes an angry finger in Sunday’s face, grabbing what he can off the floor before running off. You stare awkwardly at his trail of dust before turning back to Sunday.

“You handled that better than I would’ve,” you say after a few minutes. Sunday exhales heavily, massaging his temple.

“Naturally. I worked with buffoons like that on the daily,” he mutters. “But it seems experience doesn’t make it any more bearable.”

You pat his shoulder. “Well, it’s over now.”

“Yes,” Sunday hums, bending down to pick something up. When he straightens, you see the man’s umbrella in Sunday’s hands. “I suppose it is.”

You blink. “When did you get that?”

“Just now,” he says sarcastically. “But I did kick it out of the way while he was cursing me out, if that clarifies things.”

You stare dumbfoundedly as he opens up the umbrella, acting as if he hasn’t done anything wrong in his life. Holding it above both of your heads, he offers it to you with a smug smirk you aren’t sure you like.

“Well? Shall we?”

You break out of your daze. Pride swells in your chest and you join him, snickering.

“They really do grow fast, huh?”

—

Somewhere near, in Penacony, Firefly stares at her phone nervously. Her body still singes from the burst of fireworks in which she’d experienced her third and final death on the Planet of Festivities, but it’s the least of her worries right now.

She rereads the chat just to confirm her suspicions. She’d already been skeptical when you suddenly asked Silver Wolf to get Sunday’s things, but this just outright confirms it.

Sunday, the man she’d just helped run over with a train at least eight times, the convicted criminal by both the Family and the IPC, the former Oak Family Head who’d tried to imprison her in an eternal dream, is now her coworker.

It isn’t like she wishes anything bad upon him; in essence, she understands that what he did was out of noble intentions and a wish to help the weak. But it had only been a few days at most since she’d last seen the Halovian, and here he was again.

She glances up at the fake sky of the dreamscape. The Radiant Feldspar soars overhead, and on board is Robin, Sunday’s sister who never stopped looking for him.

Firefly’s feet shift uncomfortably. It’s getting hard to breathe. With the Order’s protection lifted, the effects of her Entropy Loss Syndrome return, although not as bad as in reality.

Should she tell Robin? The songstress has been going mad with worry over her missing brother, and it probably hasn’t helped that the Family Heads’ lips are sealed regarding his fate. But Robin is singing right now, and Firefly doesn’t want to ruin that.

She shakes her head. No, she can’t say that. This is Robin’s brother, for Aeons’ sake. And she knows that Robin must be suffering right now, despite the smile she wears for the crowd.

Firefly exhales deeply. She pulls out her phone.

Here goes nothing.

<< previous || series masterlist || next chapter >>

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

#—stellaronhvnters.#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr sunday #sunday hsr #honkai star rail sunday x reader #hsr sunday x reader #sunday hsr x reader #sunday x reader #honkai star rail sunday #x reader #y/n #reader insert #━━ series : on the other side of morality #honkai star rail series #archives 🏵️

444 notes · View notes

doitforbangchan · 7 months ago

Text

All Bark and No Bite - 14

Surprise!! Plz enjoy this early chapter as my thanks for your patience:)

please read the note at the end!!

Masterlist /Series masterlist

Chan x reader (y/n) x ot8

ABO!Nonidol!SKZ Alternate Universe

Previous - Next

Chapter Warnings: Afab/fem reader, smut, unprotected p in v, threesome (mxfxm), kissing, grinding, fingering, spanking, oral (m & f receiving), subspace, public(?) sex, Dom!Chan, Sub!reader, SoftDom! Hyunjin, kinda Switch!Felix?, unbalanced power dynamic, biting/claiming, blood, cursing, pet names, crying, begging, fluff, angst

WC: 10.6 k

It was a surprise to you that Seungmin wasn’t in bed with you when you woke up, given how absurdly late you both stayed up last night. In fact he must have gotten up quite earlier than you, given his spot in bed was now cold. He was known to be an early riser but you had assumed he would sleep in at least once.

You rolled over groggily, barely able to make out the block lettering on the alarm clock beside the bed that read a glaring ‘11:56 am’.

Holy shit how did you sleep-in that late?

You shot out of bed in a hurry and clamored out of the room. You didn’t see anybody in the hall as you crept into the bathroom. After doing your business you were washing your hands when you took in your appearance. You attempted to flatten down your bed head after you splashed some water on your face. You were still in Seungmin's shirt, the garment falling to mid thigh and covering the panties you wore underneath.

You still didn’t see anyone when you went down the stairs, though you could hear humming coming from somewhere. Everyone must be partaking in a lazy sunday. You rounded a corner from the hall into the laundry room, and in your hurry ran into something. More like someone.

“Well good morning, puppy. Or should I say good afternoon.” Seungmin snickered when you ran into him.

“What are you doing?” You quizzed, steadying yourself by putting your hands on his shoulders.

“Nothing to worry your little puppy head with.” He tutted, you peaked your head up to look past him into the room and saw there were multiple piles of cleaned, and folded laundry.

“Minnie! How long have you been up? And why didn’t you wake me?” You demanded, stomping your foot.

He shrugged, his head leaning back and forth, “A couple hours maybe. And why would I wake you up? You needed your rest after I blew your back out yesterday.”

You laid a smack to his shoulder, “Don’t say it like that! You’re a heathen!” He only laughed, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer to him. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“Aww but you’re so funny. Yapping at me like this. Lemme handle it, just this once.” His other hand squished your cheeks together making you purse your lips. He gave you teasing kisses all over your face and to your lips.

“Minnie!” You attempted to protest through your uncontainable giggling, only half trying to push him off.

He hummed, “That’s right, say my name.” He gave you one more frisky smooch then released you. “Though, I think I preferred when you were screaming it when you were falling apart on my dick.”

You felt your face heat up and were unable to meet his eyes, so you looked down with a pout. “You shouldn’t say such things aloud.”

“Hmpf, why? It’s true. No sense in denying a fact, pup.” He pulled the collar of his shirt away, showing you the red imprints left by your teeth from the previous night. “ And from how deep this bite is, I’d say you liked it too.” He wore a proud smirk when you tentatively brought your fingers up to the wound you made on his otherwise perfect flesh. The beta let out a purr when you subconsciously leaned closer, and pressed your lips tenderly to the marred bite.

“I did like it,” you whispered when you pulled away. “What I don’t like is when one of my boys doesn’t let me do my part.”

“From my perspective you’ve done your part plenty.” he had a smirk

“You know what I mean. I need to help around the house, I need to take care of you boys. It’s literally in my nature. Please, Minnie?” You fluttered your lashes, trying to appeal to his sweet side.

He thought for a second then sighed, “Fine puppy. You win. You wanna help?” he asked as he backed up into the room. You nodded enthusiastically. “Then you can take this load up for me.” He hands you a basket full of neatly folded clothes.

You took it from his hands, “To your room?”

“Nuh uh.” He shook his head. “To Minhos.”

Seungmin swore he could see your heart literally sink.

“If it’s too much for you, I can take it to him..” He reached to take the basket back from you but you moved out of his reach.

“No, I can do it. It’s not a big deal.” You attempted to shrug in nonchalance, though you had a feeling he could see right through you. You gave him a shaky smile when he looked like he wanted to interfere. “It’s ok Minnie. Really. I’ll take it up there now.” You turned on your heel with a quickness.

He murmured something that you didn’t catch as you left the room, laundry in hand. A quiet be careful on his lips.

Your feet felt heavy as you trudged up the steps to Minhos room. Neither of you had spoken to each other since the fight you got into the day before. Coming up to his door you felt incredibly nervous, unsure if you should knock or just open it. You didn’t know if he was even in there or if he would be receptive to you if he was.

“Don’t be such a little bitch, Y/n.” You muttered, steeling your anxiety the best you could, and raising your fist slowly before giving timid knocks to the wood.

You held your breath as you listened for any sign of life, and it hitched when you heard a quiet “Come in.”

Fuck, he is in there.

You held the basket with one arm as you slowly opened the door, a quiet creek was the only thing breaking through the silence. Minho was laying on his bed, leaning against his headboard with a laptop on his lap. He lightly straightened up at seeing it was you who requested entry into his space. His cat-like eyes narrowed at you, then to the basket you held tightly in your arms.

“I uh- I have your clothes.” You stuttered lamely.

Minho gestured to his closet with his head, never taking his eyes off of you. “You can set it by the closet.” You nodded in understanding but didn’t reply. Initially the goal was to move in and out as quickly and efficiently as possible, but now that you're here in his space you found yourself taking timid apprehensive steps. Your body felt ridgid as he watched you. You would later blame it on the overwhelming tannin rich musk that permeated all around you for making you dizzy.

You were bent over setting down the basket by his wardrobe with shaky hands when he spoke again.

“Cute panties.”

You shot back up briskly and pulled your shirt down to cover you further. Somehow you had completely forgotten you didn’t have any pants on. You went to spin on your heels to hightail it out of there but you were met with his imposing figure standing directly behind you. You didn’t even sense his movement until suddenly he was right there. You put your hand on your heart in shock, a quiet gasp barely escaping.

“Why’re you so on edge?” His tone was mildly inquisitive, albeit a bit bored sounding.

You chose to ignore his question, instead asking your own “What are you doing?” You tried to keep your voice firm and you almost did if not for the small quiver in your tone. He didn’t respond, choosing to offer you a shrug before he abruptly grabbed your body and spun you back around. “Minho!”

The beta lifted his hand up to the collar of the shirt you’re wearing and yanked it down to expose your shoulder, his eyes zeroing in on the newest addition. He traced over the healing wound, feeling its ridges and divots. “This one is pretty deep. Seung has some sharp ass teeth.” He pressed lightly into the skin making you whine. “Careful omega, get enough of these and you may just make me jealous.”

Minho removed his hands and straightened your shirt out, then he spun you back around. “And why would you be jealous, Minho? You wanna take a bite outta me?”

He snorted as if amused by your taunt, “ Keep up your attitude and biting won’t be the only thing I do to you.”

You tilted your face up to try and glare at him, “You can’t scare me.”

“You wanna bet?”

There was an involuntary shiver when he repeated the menacing words he had said to you yesterday, causing him to smirk as if he had won some sort of silent battle.

“Thank you for bringing my clothes up. I think it’s time you scamper back to your rabbit hole like a good little bunny now, hm?” He patted your head and gestured his hand to the door you had previously come through. Everything about his tone was so condescending.

You just scoffed and stomped to his door, yanking it open and slamming it behind you. His laugh at your rage made you want to scream. You turned back towards his door, sticking your tongue out and flipping it off silently.

“What are you doin, baby?”

“AHH” You shrieked, quickly turning around to find Hyunjin behind you, now laughing his ass off. In fact he was laughing so hard he leaned against the wall clutching his stomach as he wheezed. His eyes crinkled and a tear threatened to fall. “Hyunjin!!”

“I’m- sorry- baby.” He said between his laughter, attempting to contain himself. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Yeah well…” You felt your face heat up as you avoided looking at him.

“Oh baby, I’m sorry, come er.” He started to feel bad about scaring you, even if it was an accident. He pushed off the wall and gathered you into his embrace. “Lemme make it better.” He nuzzled his face into your neck, his long hair getting in your face and tickling your nose. Then he slathered you in his wet smooches.

You giggled in his arms, attempting escape. “Ok ok I forgive you Jinnie.”

He stopped kissing you but didn’t let you go yet, “I was looking for you. Get ready, we’re going on a date.”

Your eyes widened and shined at the prospect, “A date?” Your voice was filled with excitement.

“Uh huh, a proper date for my girl. Wear one of those cute sundresses you have.” He kissed your lips tenderly then he let you go. “You have thirty minutes to get ready, starting….. Now!” He smacked your butt to send you into action.

You wasted no time, sprinting to your room to change your clothes. On the way you passed Chan who was exiting his office. “Woah where are you going, speed racer?”

“Gotta get ready!” You called as you continued on your path. You heard him start to follow you as you went into your room and trifled through your closet.

“Get ready for what, my love?” He leaned against the door jam as he watched in amusement as you fluttered around the room.

“Jinnie is gonna take me on a date!” You had a huge grin on your face as you compared dresses. “He said to wear one of my dresses but I have no idea what one would fit the vibe.”

“Hmmm, I say go with the white one. Makes your eyes sparkle.” He came up to sit on your bed as you held the blue one up to yourself, “Yeah that one suits you.”

“Mm, yeah you’re right it is very pretty.” You agreed, then began stripping your current pjs off.

Chans eyes met your bare chest and he let out a low groan, “ gotta warn a man before you go throwing your clothes off, makes me not wanna let you go with Hyunjin and keep you here all to myself.”

You giggled at him, “You’re cute.” You pulled your panties down and quickly pulled up a new pair. You squealed when his arms shot out and grabbed you, hauling you on top of him so you were straddling him. “Channie, I gotta get ready!”

“Hmpf, you’re breaking my heart here baby.” He threw his head back dramatically as if you had actually wounded him. “But I guess I could let you go for a while.” He acted like he was toying with the idea, his head moving side to side. “If tonight I get you all to myself, hm?”

“Promise, you can have me allllll to yourself, alpha.” You stuck your pinky out and he took it with his own, sealing your promise. “Now I seriously have to get ready, Hyunjin only gave me thirty minutes.”

“You’re six minutes late, baby.” Hyunjin was pouting when you met him outside after getting ready.

“I had like no time! What do you expect from me, I’m just a girl.” You threw your hands up comically, causing him to chuckle at your antics. It was only then you noticed the large basket and blanket he held in his arms. “Are we going on a picnic?!”

He laughed once again at your excitement. “Yeah, I thought we could take advantage of the beautiful weather.” He tucked the blanket under his arm so he could hold his hand out for you to take, which you did with no hesitation. “I know a spot not too far from the house.”

Hyunjin led you into the woods away from the house. As you got further and further away you came upon a clearing. More like a meadow, with pops of color exploding in a wild arrange of flowers that clustered the ground. It looked untouched by man, beautiful and vibrant. Like a secret hideaway.

“Oh Jinnie, it’s beautiful.” You put your hand to your heart as you admired the meadow. The way the tall grass swayed in the breeze, and the way the birds chirped excitedly was very mesmerizing.

“Yeah, it really is.” You were too busy staring at the beauty in front of you to notice Hyunjin was staring directly at you. He cleared his throat after a second, and nodded towards the field. “Lets set up around here?”

“Perfect!” You grinned, taking the blanket from him and you spread it out on the ground. It wasn’t a traditional red and white checkered one you would see in the movies; instead it was green and the print had little yellow bumble bees on it. “This is a really cute blanket, Jin.”

He blushed, setting down the basket on top of the corner before plopping himself down. “Thanks, it’s uh- it’s my go too when I come out here. It’s good for inspiration.”

“Inspiration hmm?” You inquired, sitting down beside him.

“Mhmm, for when I’m painting. This is kinda my go to spot.” He reached into the pack he brought and pulled out two small canvases along with some brushes. “I actually kinda thought we could maybe paint together? If you want to.”

“I would love to paint with you! Though I’ll warn you, mine won’t look even a fraction as good as what you’ll make.”

“Baby, don’t you know? Perfection can only make perfection.” You swooned when he leaned in to kiss you, cupping the side of your face in his big hand. You practically melted into him when he let out a purr of satisfaction. All too soon he pulled away, “ And you, my angel, are the definition of flawless.”

“You can’t say things like that.” You looked down, flustered by his sentiment. There was a distinct fluttering in the pit of your stomach.

“Why not, baby? Don’t you like it?” He was smirking, pulling paints out of the basket next then a covered platter of strawberries.

“I’m anything but perfect Hyunjin.”

“Why would you say that, y/n?” His smile dropped when he saw how serious your statement was. You looked away, trying not to meet his eyes. “Baby, hey, you can talk to me.”

You sniffled, finally meeting his gaze with a teary expression. “You all keep singing my praises, but I feel like all I’ve caused is drama and pain.” He looked like he was about to interject but you continued, “ Drama with my heat, drama with Minho, drama with Seungmin and… Felix. I know he’s hurting, Jinnie. I can feel it. A perfect person wouldn’t have let any of that happen.”

“Oh baby.” He pulled you into his arms, tucking you into his chest. “First of all, the situation with your heat was not your fault. It’s those fucking suppressants fault. Second, Min can be a dick sometimes, it’s a complex he has for not being born an alpha.” He began to pet your head. “ Thirdly, Brynn had it coming, she was a bitch and needed to be brought down to earth. And as far as Felix goes, this whole arrangement made by Chan won’t last forever. His power trip will end soon enough, it always does.”

“I try not to let it get to me, but it’s all piling up inside. There is so much guilt I don’t know what to do with it.” You wiped your eyes of the falling tears.

“I have a feeling that nothing I say is going to be necessarily helpful, but I hope you listen when I say you really are perfect, especially for our family.” Hyunjin pressed more kisses to your head. “If you have feelings you don’t know what to do with, why not try painting it out baby?”

You nodded against him, “ Is that what you do, Hyun?”

“Mmhmm, I find it really helps me get out what I can’t verbally express sometimes.”

You went to remove yourself from his lap and sat across from him, and he began to set up the painting supplies. “I’m not particularly good at art, so you have to promise not to laugh.”

“Baby you know if anyone was going to laugh at you it’s not me.” He chuckled and pat your knee. “And it’s ok if you’re not good, it’s all about expressing yourself.”

He handed you a canvas and you selected your brush, settling the canvas on your knees. You looked around for inspiration. There were a ton of different flowers you could choose from out here in the meadow. You wanted to make something cute, something meaningful.

“Ready, baby?”

You nodded with a smile, dipping your brush in the paint and beginning your masterpiece.

So maybe it wasn’t quite a ‘masterpiece’ but you did your best! It was legible and honestly, that was enough for you. Hyunjin had finished his long before you had, and had opted to admire you while you concentrated. He secretly snapped little photos of you with your eyebrows creased and your tongue poking out just slightly as you worked. It was now his new homescreen on his phone.

You placed the finishing touches on the art and held it up victoriously. “Done!” You only then noticed him lounging peacefully, done with his own. “Damn I didn’t know you were waiting on me, I’m sorry Jin.”

“Not a problem, love. I enjoyed watching my girl.” He sat back up, “ You’re cute when you concentrate on something.”

You looked down shyly, then back at him to see him grinning at how adorable he thought you were. “Just show me what you made.” You mumbled, changing the subject.

He laughed, “You got it, baby.” He grabbed his now almost dry painting, turning it around for you to see it. He had done a beautiful rendition of the meadow you sat in. It was literally picture perfect. It could have been a carbon copy.

“Wow Jinnie, that is incredible!” You leaned closer to look at the details. “How did you accomplish this much in such a short amount of time?!” You were bewildered.

He shrugged, “Eh I come out here a lot. Now show me what you made!”

“Remember, you promised not to laugh.” You pointed an accusatory finger at him, and he dramatically crossed his heart. “Ok, here it is.” You turned your canvas around to reveal what you had created.

It was a picture of a Bee, sitting in a bright purple flower. You had attempted to make a tulip but it came out looking more like a generic flower and the bee looked more like a yellow and black blob.

“Aww baby! It’s so cute!!” He gushed, eyes roaming the picture. “It’s a bee in a flower right?”

“Yeah,” You beamed, happy he knew what it was. “ I wanted to make something fitting for our time out here.” You gestured down to his bee blanket you both sat upon.

“You are too precious, love. I’m gonna hang this up in the living room for all to see!” He reached for your art but you pulled away with a giggle.

“It’s not that good Hyune, not nearly as good as yours. That's the one we should be hanging up, not this silly thing.”

“The only silly thing is your attitude. I know a masterpiece when I see one and this gem is top notch.” It was cute how he tried to hype you up. “Now give it here.”

He lunged for you suddenly, and since you weren’t expecting the ambush it caused you to drop your freshly painted canvas… face side down onto your white dress. You gasped when it fell from your hands onto the front of your dress. “Ahh no!”

“Shit! Baby, I'm sorry!” In his panic he dragged the painting down the front of you when he tried to move himself away, the bright colors smearing across the dress. “Fuck I’m making it worse!”

You looked down at the damage, seeing an array of shaded mixing onto the fabric.

“Hyunjin….” You were too calm for his comfort. He was expecting you to cry. “This is the first time I’ve gotten to wear this dress…” He missed the slow creep of your hand and the way it dipped into the blue paint that was still out.

“I know! First thing when we get back home I’ll scrub it out!” He grabbed a napkin and furiously began to wipe at the stain, deepening it instead.

“Actually, I have a better idea of how you can make it up to me.” You had an evil tone in your voice that made him look up at your face, just as you brought your hand up to smear the blue paint across his cheek.

He gasped and pulled away briskly, his eyes wide in shock at your actions.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you at his shocked expression. “Now we’re even. You look good in blue, Jinnie.”

“So that’s the game we’re playing, huh baby?”

“What?” You asked but were cut off when he flung the still dirty paintbrush at you, yellow paint getting on your arm. “Hyunjin!”

“Don’t dish it if you can't take it!” His laugh was cut off when you grabbed the bottle of red and squirted him with it, the color getting all over his shirt. He retaliated by wiping his hands through the mess on his shirt and lunging for you again, red hands wiping all over your sides.

You attempted to dive out of the way with a squeal, but only ended up laying on the other colors causing them to spill and cover yourself in them. Your hands lathered themselves in the offending paints and you rubbed them on as much of Hyunjin as you could reach.

The whole time both of you were laughing and shrieking as you were both getting covered in the substance. Somehow you got under him completely, and he caged you in. Your thighs were spread and he laid between them. His hair was dripping in purple paint, the color falling into your own hair. You could only imagine how insane you both looked.

“You are a little menace, aren't you?” Hyunjin was catching his breath from laughing so hard.

“You started it!” You protested, swiping his nose again.

He looked down between your bodies, “And now I’m gonna finish it. Looks like we only have one spot left to paint on you, doll.” He giggled and leaned down, capturing your lips with his own. You immediately threw your hands up to his shoulders, pulling him in closer. He let some of his weight fall on you gently, and rolled his hips into your core.

You whimpered against his mouth, and the sound spurred him on to do it again. Hyunjin's body rolled into you a little harsher, relishing in the sounds of enthusiasm that left you in return. You could feel his bulge growing in his pants as he teased it against your clothed core. “Jinnie. Want you.”

He nibbled on your bottom lip for a second, then licked the skin. “Oh yeah, Baby? You missed your Jinnie?”

“Mhm. Missed the way you feel in me.” You couldn’t believe the words that came out of your mouth, the truth in them just spilling out.

“Fuck, gorgeous. The other boys are corrupting you. Turning you all dirty. You don’t even care we’re out here in the open.” His hands moved down to grip your thighs, his hot palms parting them even further as he ground down. “Turns me on so much.”

You were getting wetter by the second, your body reacting to him immensely. You let your hips buck into him as you searched for more friction. “Been too long without you, Jinnie.”

“Mm I know, omega.” He cooed, his fingers sliding up the sides of your thighs and to the hem of your panties. “Been waiting for you too, my love.” He pulled them down your thighs, exposing your glistening center to the outside air. “I can’t use my fingers on you since they are covered in paint. Do you think you could take me without me stretching you out, baby?”

You nodded rapidly. You were so wet you knew you could take him. “Yes Jinnie, I can take you. Can take all of you.”

He groaned as he drug his own pants and underwear down, his member slapping at his stomach from the force. He then bucked his hips up, causing his dick to slide through your folds and wetting his tip.

He went to line himself up to push in when you stopped him, “Wait!” He paused instantly, looking at you with wide eyes and his body rigid like he had done something wrong. “What about umm… protection?”

He visibly relaxed, “Had me scared for a second baby.” He chuckled. “Did you take your birth control yesterday and today?”

“Umm yeah, I did.”

“Then we’re all good. I checked with Channie Hyung earlier and he said since you're on a fast acting prescription I’m allowed to defile you in every way.” He had a smirk on his face.

“Oh.” You gulped, clenching around nothing.

“Though I will admit,” He began as he rubbed himself into you some more, on the precipice of pushing in. “ the idea of cumming on you instead of inside, really does something to me.” You groaned at his words. “Mm you want that, baby? Want me to mark your skin with more than just paint?”

“Yes Jinnie. I want it so much.”

“I’ll give it to you, sweet omega.” He rolled his hips at a perfect angle, sending his full length into you. Your back arched at the intrusion, and you pulled him flush against you. “Ngghh so tight, baby. Still so so tight around me.” You clenched at his sentiment. “Fuck, keep clenching like that and your gonna make me cum too soon.”

Hyunjin set a slow pace as he thrust into you, one of his hands held up one of your thighs and the other was pulling down the top of your dress to expose your bare chest to him. He immediately leaned down to take a nipple into his mouth. He sucked on the bud for a minute then switched to the other one. You hadn’t worn a bra under the dress as it came with cups built in so there was no need. You were mentally high fiving yourself for making that choice.

You let out a loud moan when his dick snapped into you at the perfect angle, hitting the sweet spot within you. When he noticed he found it, he repeated that same motion over and over again. The pleasure was so good you started to shake with the impending orgasm.

Your slick was sloshing out of you with every movement, soaking the paint stained blanket underneath. “Oh my god, baby. I can feel you getting close. Can feel the way your body begs to cum. Let go, baby. Show me that beautiful sight I’ve been craving so much.”

At his permission, the band in your core snapped. You came with a wail of his name, “Hyyyunnjiinnnnnnn oh my god.” and you dug your fingers into the fabric of the shirt he still wore.

When he felt you clamp down on him, Hyunjin knew he was a goner. He stalled his hips for only a moment as he pulled out of you a mere second before releasing his essence onto your folds and lower stomach with a shudder. His eyes zeroed in on the bite marks on your shoulder and he lowered his mouth back to your chest where he laid his own devilish bite to your skin, right above your right breast.

You squirmed from the sensation, his emotions flooding through the bite into you. Though you could feel him break the skin, the pain didn’t come. Hyunjin wore his heart on his sleeve and now you were definitely feeling it. “Jinnie..” He let go of your skin, his breathing hard. “Jinnie, can I bite you now too?”

His eyes shone at your question, and the animal within him growled in response. With no hesitation he ripped down the collar of his shirt and presented himself to you. “I would never want for anything again, if you claimed me as yours, my sweet omega.”

You leaned up and first kissed the skin where his neck and shoulder met, running along it with your tongue before you sunk your teeth into him. Hyunjin twitched and moaned when you claimed him. He could feel how much love you had inside of you and he wanted to drown in it. He considered himself lucky to even be around you, but having the girl of his dreams bite him in return? Now he was just blessed.

You let go of him and licked the wound, stopping it from dripping. He brought himself up to hover above you now as he took in the state of you both. Both of your lips still marred in blood and bodies covered in an array of paint.

“That was insane.” You breathed out once you stopped panting, running your hands along his back.

“That’s how you make me feel, baby. Insane.” He pecked your lips with a gentle smile. Then he sat up and let you sit up as well. “I think we should probably get our shit together. We got a big mess to clean.”

You looked around at the mess you created. “Yeah you’re right. This may not have been our smartest idea.”

He shrugged, “It was fun though, yeah?”

You giggled, “So much fun.” You kissed his lips again, then began to clean up.

It wasn’t until an hour later that you both finally got back to the house. You had hoped to sneak in unnoticed by the rest of the pack, but of course it could never be that easy.

“What the hell happened to you guys?!”

And of course it was Jisung who noticed you both, exclaiming his question loudly for all to hear. The beta was sat outside on the porch with a bowl of ice cream in his lap, spoon hanging out of his mouth.

You cringed when you noticed him sitting there, trying to hide behind Hyunjin- whose face was burning red now. “Nothing, Ji. Pretend this never happened!” Hyunjin tried to shuffle past Jisung but was stopped at the door by Jeongin.

“Woah what the actual fuck did you guys do?!” The young alpha popped his head out of the door, hearing Jisungs initial inquiry.

You groaned from your place behind Hyunjin, stepping out to set a hand on your hip. “We had fun, that’s what happened.” You huffed, trying to hide your pure embarrassment.

Both of the other boys' eyes scoured your figure, taking note of the red hand prints on your upper thighs and the bite mark peeking up from your cleavage, though it was mostly hidden.

“Yeah, looks like you had a ton of fun, baby.” Jisung snickered, throwing his arm up to block the smack coming from Hyunjin.

You crossed your arms and stuck your nose in the air snootily, “Hmpf, laugh all you want. I have paint in places where paint should never be, so if you’ll excuse me I need to shower.” You stomped past the laughing boys, Hyunjin coming in behind you.

“You go on and shower up, love. I’ll take care of this mess.”

“Are you sure, Jinnie? I really don’t mind cleaning up.”

He shook his head, “Nah, I got it. You’re more covered than I am anyways. I’ll catch you in a while, ok?” He pecked your lips when you nodded in agreement. “Love you.”

“Love you Jinnie.” You made your way up the stairs and to your room to get some clothes.

“Is that my omega I hear?” Chans voice flooded your ears when he rounded the corner into your room. “There you are swee- woah baby what happened?” He paused his movements when he saw you.

You smacked your palm to your forehead with a sigh, “That’s everyone's big question. Jinnie and I did a little painting today. And we may have gotten carried away.” You gave him a sheepish grin.

“Uh huh, I can see that.” He approached you and grabbed your hand, spinning you around to see all the damage. “ I always knew you were a work of art, now it’s just been confirmed.”

“Don’t be corny.” You giggled, pulling him into a kiss. “I need to shower. I can feel all this paint drying on my skin.”

“Go hop in baby. I’ll grab you some of my clothes for you to wear.” He patted your butt to send you out of the room.

“Yes sir!” You saluted dramatically and skipped into his room and to his bathroom.

You missed the way he groaned at the title you called him, and the way he cupped his growing bulge through his black sweats. He couldn’t wait to play with you later.

You came back downstairs a while later, freshened up like the paint fight never even happened. Though, the light throb of your most recent claiming bite reminded you it was very much real. It was approaching evening, and you hadn't made breakfast so that means you could finally cook dinner for your pack.

Entering the kitchen you start rifling through the fridge and cabinets looking for what you can make. Luckily you found everything you would need to make pasta and a homemade alfredo sauce. You got to work quickly, feeling in your element as you cooked and prepared. You cut up some chicken as well as some veggies to throw in.

You couldn’t help but to think about what happened with Hyunjin. How he has said Channie gave him the okay to…Cum in you. How he now had permission to do the thing everyone had been so precautious of since Felix defied. You would have to clarify with your alpha later.

You were almost done with everything when you heard footsteps entering the kitchen. You could tell exactly who it was, since you were getting used to each of the boys you were catching on to how they each moved.

“Hey babycakes.” You were right, it was Changbin who came in. He must have smelt the food and come to investigate. “What are you cookin in here, gorgeous? It smells amazing, had me drooling since I pulled up the driveway.”

“Alfredo.” You answered, leaning back into him when he came up behind you. “It was one of my faves growing up. Where did you run off to today?”

He kissed the top of your head and put his hands on your hips. “I hit the gym with a new friend I met the other day at the diner. Next time you should come, baby. Build some muscle in these little arms.” He pinched your arm lightly in jest.

“I’ll think about it.” You hummed, squirming away from him. “ Maybe I’ll get swole enough to kick your ass.” You put your first up mock menacingly, shaking it at him.

Changbin laughed and grabbed your lifted fist, curling his own fingers over it, “Careful there, slugger. These things are already registered weapons.”

You winked, “Don’t you forget it.” You then turned back to your task. “Hey Binnie, can you please grab some plates for me so I can set the table?”

“Absolutely baby.” He got the plates from the cabinet and took them into the dining room. “Don’t worry about setting the table, I got it.” He said when he came back to get cutlery.

“Thank you Bin, that is very helpful.” You smiled at him, making his heart swell and the alpha within him purr.

“Anything for my omega.” He kissed your lips and took a bowl of pasta from your grasp, taking it to the table.

“Mmmm what is goin on in here?” Jisung was the next to come in to investigate, his boba eyes taking in the meal you had prepared.

“Just dinner, Ji. Actually it’s great you're here, can you please alert the rest of the pack that dinner is done and to come down to the table, please?”

“Of course my sweet lover.” He had a sing-songy voice as he skipped away.

It only took a few minutes before all the boys were gathered around the table and all serving up their food (after they all thanked you for making such a delicious meal, of course).

“So what are we thinkin, movie night?” Seungmin looked around at everyone as he suggested it.

Chan nodded, swallowing his last bite. “Yeah a nice night in sounds great. What do you think, my love?”

“Good to me! I just wanna chill tonight, I’m a little tired.” You stood to begin clearing empty plates.

Jeongin snorted, “Yeah I imagine you would be after your messy day with Jinnie.” He had a smirk, and laughed when you tried to pinch him as you picked up his plate.

“Messy? What happened?” Felix was confused, clearly distraught at being kept out of the loop.

Hyunjin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “Ah Baby and I just went on a little picnic date, that's all.”

“Are you suuuuurrrreeeee that’s all that happened Hyung?” The young alpha pressed teasingly. “Are you sure that you both didn’t come back covered in paint from head to toe, looking like you were mauled by a bear?”

“More like a ferret.” Jisung murmured, then broke into giggles when the alpha boy high fived him.

Hyunjin shrugged, though the blush to his cheeks gave away his lack of nonchalance. “What happens in the woods, stays in the woods. Right angel?”

You nodded, “Right Jin.”

“Even so, it sounds like Innie and Ji just signed themselves up for clean up duty. Ain't that right boys?” It was Chan now who said it, raising his brow and looking at the two guys expectantly.

They both sighed and began to clean up the table, knowing it wasn’t worth arguing over. Though it didn’t stop them from mumbling how unjust and unfair it was the whole time.

By the time the sun had completely set you all had gathered in the living room, watching ‘Harry Potter’. You were all starting with the first one and decided to watch at least one out of the series every sunday until all had been watched.

You were cozied up with Chan on the loveseat, with him holding you securely against his chest while you sat in his lap. Jisung was curled up beside you with your legs thrown over his lap. Hyunjin and Jeongin were in front of the loveseat on the floor, leaning back up against it and giving you perfect reach to play with their hair. Minho, Seungmin and Changbin all sat on the bigger sofa together.

That just left Felix in the recliner. Sat alone with a perfect view of you being touchy with the other pack mates. The beta tried to focus on the movie, he really did. And he almost made it all the way through- until he saw Chans hand slide up the side of your thigh to your bare hip and the shirt you wore rode up to show off a sliver of your panties. What he has missed though, was the flicker of the alphas eyes over to the younger boy as he touched you. By that point the need to touch you was eating him alive and he could no longer sit there.

The beta felt himself sniffle subconsciously, then he stood from his place abruptly, drawing attention from everyone else at the sudden movement. “Sorry, I’m not… I gotta go.” Felix apologized and ducked his head, speeding out of the living room.

You shifted like you were going to go after him, but settled back into submission against your alpha; as much as it pained you to do so, you knew you couldn’t help him right now. Chan was pleased with your choice, tilting your chin up to place a delicate kiss to your pouty lips as a reward for learning the lesson.

Everyone's positions in this room did not go unnoticed by the alpha. It seemed like everything fell perfectly into place for Chan when Felix had sat alone on the other side of the room. As he predicted, Hyunjin stood next to Felix to calm him down. Two down.

By the end credits Jisung was falling asleep next to you, his weight leaned on you. Chan was the one to wake him with a poke. “Hannie, I think you better head off to bed. You’re drooling all over the place.”

“Mmnm don’t wanna.” He grumbled in return.

Chan sent a pleading look to Minho on the other couch, the beta sighing then standing and coming over to haul the boy off of you. “Alright, come on Sungie. Let's get you to bed.” Min tried to haul the younger beta up but Jisung defiantly dead weighted himself so he couldn’t be moved. “You are such a child. Bin, can you help me please?”

The alpha came to help, grabbing Jisung up from the loveseat with ease as the younger protested sleepily. Together they took him up to bed (after Ji and Bin gave you good night kisses).

Chan laid a couple kisses on your arm, making you giggle. He then shifted his eyes quickly to Seungmin, hoping the beta would take the hint. Luckily he did. Seungmin stood with an exasperated yawn, “Man I am beat. I’m gonna head up to bed. Jeongin, let’s go.”

The alpha boy looked up confused, “Huh? If you’re tired, why do I have to go to bed?”

Seungmin huffed with an eye roll, “Dude don’t make me spell it out for you. Let’s go. It’s late anyways.” He grabbed Jeongin by his shirt collar and pulled him up with him.

“Fine, fine, hands off you ass!”

Both boys also gave you good night kisses before they went on their way up.

You had wanted to ask him about what Hyunjin said earlier, and now seemed like the only time. “Channie, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, my love. What’s on your mind?”

“Well..” You twiddled with your thumbs nervously. “When I was with Jinnie earlier today, he said you had given your permission to.. Umm.. fuck this is embarrasing. Did you say it was ok to cum in me now since I’m on fast acting birth control?”

He didn’t expect you to come right out with it, his shock making him chuckle. “Yes baby. That was my stipulation to the guys. No filling up my girl until you were on birth control. Luckily we got prescribed a good brand from the Doctor. He gave the okay so I did in return.”

You let out the breath you were holding. “Ok ok, cool. I’m glad I asked. It was killing me not knowing for sure. I mean not that I don’t trust Jinnie, cuz I do, with my life, but sometimes I can’t help but worry and after what happened last time you can never be too sure, right?”

“Baby, you're rambling. It’s ok, thank you for making sure. Good omega.” He petted you tenderly to calm you.

“Should we head to bed too Channie? It is getting late.” You suggested, willfully ignorant to his schemes.

“Nah, I’m not that tired. Wanna watch another movie?” You nodded in response, and went to move off of him now that there was more space to sit. He grabbed you and held you on him, “Where do you think you're going, baby? Didn’t we agree I would get you all to myself?”

“Yes alpha.” You suppressed a laugh at how cute he was. “I do recall something like that.”

“Exactly. Now you're staying right here, where you belong, hm?” He tickled your sides when you didn’t respond this time, making you laugh loudly. “C’m on omega, tell me when you belong.”

“On.. your.. Lap.” You managed to get out between cackles, his fingers only relenting when you answered.

“That’s right baby. Now since you were right, I’ll let you pick the next movie.” He grabbed the remote and handed it to you.

“Can I pick anything I want?”

“Yep, anything for you my love.”

You grinned evilly and typed in the movie you had been itching to watch.

“I can’t believe you’re making me watch ‘Twilight’.”

“You said I could pick whatever I wanted! This is what I want!”

Chan groaned in boredom for what had to be the fifth time since starting the movie. “Is this really what girls are into? Old men who stalk them and tell them they’re his ‘personal brand of heroine’ as if that shit isn’t creepy!”

“Channie, don’t act like what you say isn’t poetic like that too! You are just as bad!” You huffed.

The alpha checked the time on his phone discreetly, noticing it was nearing ten pm. Perfect. “I’ve never considered myself good with words.” He tilted your head slightly and started to kiss your neck. You let out a sigh of content. “ Kinda always thought my romantic talents were laid in other ways.” You whimpered when he gave a harsh suck to your flesh. “Want me to show you, baby?”

“Out-out here in the living room?” You stuttered when his hands started to travel back under your shirt.

“Mmhmm.” He hummed, “It’s my house, I can have you wherever I want.” His rough hands slid up your sides and to your breasts under the shirt. He ran his thumbs across your nipples, toying with the hardened buds. Then an idea popped into his mind. “But you were set on watching this movie… So your gonna watch it.” He suddenly turned your body so you were sitting with your back against his chest, and your front facing the tv. Also facing the entry way into the room.

You gasped when he grabbed your jaw softly and made you watch the tv. “Channie, what…”

“Watch your movie, baby. Alphas got you.” He then tugged your shirt up and over your head, so now you sat there almost naked other than your panties. “Mm so pretty. Look at all these pretty marks on you, omega.” He sloppily kissed each one, at the same time he resumed his playing with your nipple with one hand. The other was toying with the hem of your panties.

You let out a quiet whimper when he tugged on the bud. Trying to focus on the movie was becoming a nearly impossible task. You could vaguely register what was happening, it appeared to be the baseball scene. Then he tugged harder. You couldn’t help the light grind of your hips at the sensation. Having his hands on you made you instantly wet, the slick accumulating quickly from your core. Your body naturally reacted to him this way, he could look at you a certain way and it could get you going. (A fact you would never share with him, less you feed his ego even more)

“Can smell you, ‘mega. You're leaking such a delicious scent.” He nosed your skin as he was totally engulfed in the aroma. It was so thick and syrupy, he was sure it was starting to drip from the walls. At his words you ground down again, feeling his thickness under your ass. “Are you getting impatient, baby? “

“Mmhmm” You only hummed in return.

He cooed, “ok baby, Alpha will play with his baby.” With lithe fingers he slowly pulled your panties down your hips and off your thighs, leaving you now completely naked on his lap. A string of arousal followed the fabric as they fell to the floor, Chan groaning at the sight. “Fuck love, is that all for me?”

“Uh huh. For you Channie.” You nodded rapidly, moaning when those same fingers ran their tips along your folds. Chan used his knees to separate your legs even further, putting your center on full display. He collected the slick that was dripping out of you, and brought the digits up to slowly circle your clit. You threw your head back onto his shoulder and shut your eyes at the feeling. You both could tell you were quickly falling into subspace, letting Chan take care of you completely.

In fact you were becoming so out of it, that you missed the sound of footsteps coming down the hall closer to the living room, and stopping before the threshold. Chan, though, did not.

“Come on out, Lix.”

Felix was coming back down for his nightly vitamin he takes every night at ten pm. He keeps it in the kitchen so he can also grab some water before bed. It was his daily routine. One he never missed. What he didn’t expect was to be bombarded with the thick scent he would know anywhere by now, and the enticing sounds of your little moans. He halted his movements in the hall, eyes wide and his hands suddenly twitching. He was going to turn back around and hightail it back to his room, but then Chan called to him.

Fuck.

Your eyes shot open as Felix slowly, and stiffly shuffled into the living room. “Lix? What-?” You went to cover yourself with your hands but Chan stopped you.

“Aww don’t be shy now, baby. It’s nothing Lixie hasn’t seen before, right Lix?” Chan continued rubbing at the bundle between your legs, now with more vigor and you couldn’t stop the moan. Felix merely nodded, his eyes shadowed in both lust and wanting. The twitching in his fingers got worse as soon as he raked his gaze over your spread pussy. “Doesn’t she look so pretty like this, all spread open and squirming?” Chans eyes were dark and his tone had a menace to it that was hard to place, it had both you and Felix whimpering.

“So pretty.. The prettiest girl in the universe.” Felix mumbled out, unable to take his eyes from the way your hole clenched at his words.

“Nggh Lix…” You whined subconsciously, hips bucking into Chans hand for more friction. Chan never took his eyes off Felix as he nipped on your neck.

“I can’t take this.” Felix’s statement came out as a pained whisper.

“Hmm? What was that Felix?” Chan asked, acting uninterested, and inserting a finger inside now making you groan louder.

“I… I can’t take this anymore, Hyung.” Tears sprung to the betas eyes. “This is torture- worse than torture. Not being able to touch the woman I love, while everyone else gets to as much as they please, it’s so painful Chris.”

“You want your punishment to end? You want to touch this beautiful omega?” Chan used his other hand to grab the front of your throat, pulling your body even closer to his chest, not squeezing; just holding. A dangerous reminder that he was in charge.

Felix nodded lively, mouth gaping at the sight “ Yes I’ll do anything.”

“Beg me.”

Before Felix even registered the demand, you started wailing “Please alpha please I need him.”

Chan laid a quick slap to your pussy, relishing in your hiss at the contact. You tried to snap your legs closed but Chan held them open as you shook. “Hush omega, you’ve begged enough. The men are talking. Go on Felix.” His fingers resumed their thrusting into your hole.

Felix locked eyes with Chans dark intimidating stare, and he theatrically lowered himself to his knees, clasping his hands together.

“Chan, Alpha, I am begging you, please, please, don’t keep her from me anymore. I’ve learned not to defy you again. Please Hyung.” Felix was hiccuping through his tears as he begged.

“Look at him, Omega. Down on his knees begging for even a taste of you. Begging for the saccharine sweetness that pours from you, the nectar only I can provide. Should I let him? Should alpha be merciful and give him what he needs, baby?

“Yes Alpha. Please.” you responded right away.

“You want her? You want her pussy?” Chan asked rhetorically, chuckling when the beta nodded and cried. “Come show her how much you missed her. Your punishment is over.”

Immediately you were swarmed by Felix, the beta wasting no time at all to latch his mouth over your dripping center, his tongue finding your clit with ease. His hands went to your thighs as he ground his face into you, wanting you as close as he can possibly get. Felix dug his fingers brutally into your skin, as if he was scared you would slip through his hands again. Chan removed his fingers from inside you and put them back onto your breasts, pinching your nipples.

“Fuck, oh my god, Lixie.” Now it was you who was crying, putting your hands into his hair and gripping the strands tightly. He moaned into you when you grabbed his hair, causing vibrations to travel from his mouth into you. You were already so close to your high at that point, that when he suckled your clit into his mouth with a harsh suck, you absolutely lost it and the band inside of you snapped. “Ngghhhh Lixie, Channie, ohmygoooooooood ‘m cumming, mmmmggghh.”

The tears never stopped falling from your eyes; the emotions inside of you being so intense it’s like a dam broke. This was the most emotional orgasm you’ve ever had. You were shaking and sobbing against Chan as Felix continued to eat you out, never relenting for even a second. The betas eyes were fluttering at the taste of you, becoming drunk on your slick. You were becoming overstimulated with the constant pleasure so you tried pulling up Felix's head. After a moment he lifted his face from you, gazing at you with intense lust in his blown out eyes and your slick covering his face.

“Mm good girl, such a good omega for us, huh? Wanna keep being a good little girl for us, baby?” Chan questioned while kissing your shoulders. His voice was getting rougher by the second, as he himself was being overcome with both lust and power.

“Uh huh, wanna be good for you both.” You pet the side of Felix's face affectionately. You had missed being close enough to appreciate his darling freckles. He preened at your touch, nuzzling into your hand.

Chan removed his hands from your chest, “Go ahead and get on the floor for me, baby. On all fours.” He helped you off his lap and to the floor to join Felix. Luckily the blankets that were laid out from the movie night were still here so you weren’t on the bare ground. You settled yourself as he requested, and he groaned from behind you. The alpha got up from his place on the love seat and onto his knees right behind you. “That’s a good girl, present yourself to your alpha.” He delivered a quick slap to one of your ass cheeks, admiring the slight jiggle of the flesh.

You yelped at the sting, “Alpha!”

“You can take it. I bet my spanks aren’t half as bad as Minnies, hmm?” He jeered with a snicker. He peered over at the beta, who by this point was rubbing his dick through his pj pants and biting his lip. “ I think our Lixie is feeling a little neglected, huh baby? He's waited so patiently for you.” Chan asked, leaning over to rub his sweatpants clad crotch against your ass.

“Yeah, alpha. Wan’ make him feel good too. Wan’ him in my mouth.” You mumbled through your whines, craving to be filled one way or another.

“Fuck,” Lix cursed, gripping himself tighter when you said that.

Chan chuckled, “Seems like he wants that too. What do ya say, Lix? Want her mouth?”

“Fuck, more than anything.” The beta replied hastily.

“Alright then,” Chan pulled down his bottoms, just enough for his member to be out. The tip was red and leaking pre cum, he had clearly been horned up for a while. He rubbed the tip through your folds, wetting his length easily with the great amount of slick you’ve created. “Go ahead Lixie, give her what she wants.”

Felix wasted no time in shoving his pjs down his thighs, finally feeling a little relief at no longer being confined. He came to stand in front of you, but before you could take him into your mouth he leaned down and gave you a devastatingly emotional kiss. He groaned low into your mouth, missing the way your lips tasted and felt. It made him start to tear up again. “Missed you so fucking much, baby. ‘M never gonna lose you again.” He whispered against your lips.

“Missed you too Lix- AH” Your sentiment was cut off by Chan pushing his length into you. You arched your back at the intrusion and dug your fingers into the fabric below you. The stretch of taking your alpha was immeasurable. “Shit, so big alpha.” Chan growled approvingly when you said that. You tried to refocus on Felix the best you could, though your mind was slipping further and further away with each thrust of Chans hips. “In my mouth, pl-ease, nee’ it.”

Felix took a small step back and positioned himself in front of your face, holding his tip a few inches from you. “Here you go, lovey. You can have it.” Your mouth fell open and you stuck your tongue out, licking the flushed tip and tasting his precum. You suckled on it for a second, then a particularly hard thrust from Chan caused you to take Felix completely into your mouth and down your throat, making you gag. The beta immediately threw his head back in pleasure, “Ffffucking christ oh shit. God, so warm and wet.”

Tears sprung to your lash line when Felix hit the back of your throat. Little ‘mmpfs’ sounds were leaving you from the rutting into your core, that quickly turned into gurgly muffled moans when Chan found your sensitive spot inside of you. Your thighs were covered in slick and it was wetting the alphas bottoms. He was letting out deep, raspy grunts each time he bottomed out. His hands gripped harshly onto your hips to keep you in place, as Felix began thrusting gently into you.

Felix ran his hand down your throat, feeling his length inside through your own skin. He gasped at the pressure he has created. He didn’t want to over stimulate you with double choking though, so he left it at that for now.

The beta held your cheeks with his palms as he wiped your tears, looking into your eyes with his glassy ones as if asking for permission to take you. You answered by sucking intensely on his member. That was what he needed, and he began to shakily fuck your mouth.

“I wish you could see how magnificent you are right now, omega.” Chans voice was gruff and raspy. “So fucking perfect the way you take us. Fuck, most perfect omega in the world.”

Perfect.

There's that word again. That's the second time today you had been called it, but honestly, right now as you float through subspace, you would believe literally anything they told you. You were so far gone and delirious you just moaned in agreement.

The corners of your lips were leaking drool, both areas of entry being so wet there was a loud sloshing sound that filled the entire room. The only other time you had been this soaked was on your heat.

Chan brought his fingers around your body and found your clit again. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head when he began to circle the nub. You were already so sensitive that it only took a few swipes of his fingers before you were orgasming. Your body began to spasm in pleasure and your wails increased, the vibrations shooting straight into Felix's dick.

“Fuck ‘m gonna cum oh FUCCKK” The beta gripped your face and held you steady while he shot hot ropes of cum down your throat. He let go of your face once his shaking stopped, pulling out of your mouth swiftly. “So good, baby. Your mouth is magical.” He went to wipe the cum and drool that was on your face but he didn’t get the chance.

As soon as Felix pulled out of your mouth, Chan used one of his hands to push your head down into the blankets below. The change made your hips raise slightly and your back arch even more, letting the Alpha drive into you even further. “There we go, fuck sweet girl your even tighter like this, goddamn.” He was unrelenting in his powerful plunging into you. “Love you so so much, my baby, my omega.”

“Alpha, love youuuu.” You clenched at the way he said your presentation. He always made it sound so dirty. You loved it.

Your clenching on him was what he needed, the tightening threw him completely overboard. He growled deeply, the sound was a menacing rumble that emerged from the back of his throat. He shot thick ropes of his cum deep inside you. His knot inflated at the base and locked the two of you together. He rocked his hips a little more as he finished, the last few drops entering you.

For a second, all of you were silent - except for the collective panting as you all came down. You could feel Felix stroke your hair softly as Chan ran his hands comfortingly up and down your spine. Your face was still buried in the blankets below you, mouth open and breathing hard.

“Did so, so good for us Omega. Love you so much.” Chan began whispering praises as his knot started to deflate. Felix was now sitting on the ground and pulling your head up to rest in his lap. He wiped your tears and cooed about how much he loves you.

Chan was ecstatic, the night fell into place exactly as he wanted it too. Well, for the most part… There was one thing he didn’t account for.

That was a certain youngest Alpha who came down for a late night snack and stumbled upon the scene in the living room….

All three of you were so caught up in each other that no one noticed Jeongin walk in mid act. And not a single one of them could predict it accidently sending the alpha boy into an early rut..

Oops.

A/N: I know, I know it's a little late.... Unfortunately going forward this series will probably be updated bi weekly instead of weekly :'( i will be working a lot more in preparation for festival season! (Anyone going to edclv this year? 👀👀👀💃🏻)

Also, before anyone says it, yes i know thats not how birth control works,,,, it's a made up universe with made up rules :)

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

Also if any one wants to chat about the story or share predictions please send me an ask!!

Beta read by my loves @ayejaii and @jehhskz <3

©doitforbangchan

794 notes · View notes

thisismeracing · 9 months ago

Text

The one | CS55

― Pairing: Carlos Sainz x fem!reader (she/her) ― Warnings: mentions of break up and food; typos. ― Summary: Yn is doing well a few months after her break up with Carlos, and so is he. Everyone thinks that this paragraph of their lives is over, but as it happens they may be a chapter to each other, and Yn makes sure everyone knows he was her great love, the one - through her new song. ― A/n: None of the pictures used are mine, they are all from Pinterest and other apps, but the work is, and I do not allow it to be published on a different platform. I would appreciate it if those things could be taken into consideration 💛

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

February, 2023

February, 2024

realyn

liked by charles_leclerc, sza, and others

realyn "The One" has just come out on all streaming platforms. I hope this piece of my heart reaches yours. Tune in and dive into the feels 💐🤍

view all comments

saintsainz "for old time's sake" HELLO?????

ynsummer omg another bop!!! I wish I could write songs when I'm sad, the few breakups I had I could only cry and try not to choke on my own phlegm

⤷ fan2000 ewwww LOL

hammert1m3 charles on the likes 👀

leclowns1655 in my head they're not over yet

⤷ mercmickey you need therapy, bestie

lewishamilton great music as usual 💜

francisca.cgomes 😍😍

szadirection I love how the grid's still here supporting here even a year after she and carlos broke up 🥺

popyn WE WERE SOMETHING DON'T YOU THINK SOOO ROSÉ FLOWING WITH YOUR CHOSEN FAMILY 🎤🎤🎤🎤

ferraristrangers I have so many theories for the lyrics and the cover and kksjksdj aaaaaaaa

Old posts

March, 2018

realyn

liked by lewishamilton, ynfan, and others

realyn eat pasta, run fasta, they said 😋😂

view all comments

bieberf1 they my new fav couple now 💋

raintyresainz thank you for feeding us that last carlos pic

hurricaneyn welp now I wanna eat pasta but its like the middle of the night

⤷ alonsochamp eat pasta, sleep fasta 😙😂

carlossainz55 ❤️❤️

amarelorenault her glasses are so cool!!!!! her style is always on point

carlossainz55

liked by yourfriend, fernandoalo_oficial, and others

carlossainz55 we tried homemade, it worked 😋

view all comments

realyn we didn't run fasta this time though :(

⤷ carlossainz55 there wasn't any race this Sunday, cariño

⤷ realyn shhhh, let me be funny

harrystylistee I want what they have!

April, 2018

realyn

liked by hulkhulkenberg, renaultf1team, and others

realyn enjoyed April with my fav spaniard, wrote a few songs for you guys - new album dropping soon!!!!! 🥳

view all comments

aussiegrid howd you like Australia, Yn?

⤷ realyn I loved it, def gonna come back soon 🥰

ynfan 💙💙💙💙💙💙

carlosfullname1 where’s your jacket from?

⤷ realyn website.com 😘

fab2000 can’t wait for the new song and espec the new album!!!!!

July, 2018

carlossainz55

liked by pierregasly, realyn, and others

carlossainz55 Yn's new album "I used to know her" is out now and you guys should run to listen to it 💙💙 she did an amazing job as usual. I'm very proud of you, cariño @ realyn

view all comments

lewishamilton congrats, Yn!

hulkhulkenberg everyone here loved the new album, well done, Yn!

renaultf1team its our garage soundtrack 😎💛

March, 2019

realyn

liked by landonorris, mclaren, and others

realyn the past few months wearing papaya have been amazing! 🧡 and yes, last concert clothes were orange bc of the team

view all comments

landonorris looks like the concert clothes gave us some luck, make sure to wear orange again next time!

⤷ realyn I love you guys but I can't be wearing orange all the time

⤷ yourmanager yes, you can

⤷ realyn shut up, I'm gonna fire your ass

⤷ yourmanager no, you won't

⤷ carlossainz55 jajajaja

tifosinha I love how lando looks like their kid 😂

spaincarlos_ not yn and carlos adopting lando lol

ynfan4 her music taste is *chef kiss* 🤌🏾

ynandsainz yn, your album still on repeat on my apple music!

mclaren 🧡🧡

December, 2019

carlossainz55

liked by charles_leclerc, hulkhulkenberg, and others

carlossainz55 ¡Feliz Navidad! 🎄❤️

view all comments

saturnracer FELIZ NAVIDAD TAN TAN TAN PROSPERO AÑO Y FELICIDAD 🎤

szalover 😭😍 its the way she loves pasta

⤷ cowboyvettel @ realyn pasta or carlos? choose one

⤷ realyn carlos cooking pasta 😙😋😜

July, 2020

realyn

liked by lewishamilton, fernandoalo_oficial, and others

realyn compilation of some of the flowers Carlos gave me and pics he took 💖 Te amo, cariño 💐🌷🌹🌸🌺🌼🌻

view all comments

fonedirection God I see what youve done for others

carlossainz55 you’re my favorite flower, love 🌸💖

⤷ fernandoalo_official you guys know how to be sicklengly cute huh 🙄

piastripastry see? carlos gets flowers regularly to yn and yall out there crying over an ugly ass man who gives you the bare minimum 🫵

March, 2021

realyn

liked by carlossainz, scuderiaferrari, and others

realyn new character unlocked hehe ❤️💛🏎️

view all comments

ynfrance We want a new album, queen!!! save us!

swiftverstappen the way they went through everything togerher 🤧

⤷ russellsainz I want what they have

monegasque16 another day another yn post to make me cry in single and alone

carlossainz55 thank you for the endless support, cariño 💛 you’re my everything

tifosisunshine you’re 😭 my 😭 everything 😭

August, 2022

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, pierregasly, and others

carlossainz55 my kind of free-weekends 🩵

view all comments

sunnyyn yn looks so good 😍😍

yourbestie ❤️ aweee

realyn te amo! 😘

January, 2023

realyn

liked by lewishamilton, francisca.cgomes, and others

realyn happy new year 🙃

view all comments

charlsmonaco where's carlos? 😟

mylightyn I don't like this vibe…

ynwardrobe what is she reading?

lewishamilton 💙

⤷ mclatinha lew do you happen to know something we don’t?

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, fernandoalo_oficial, and others

carlossainz55 ¡Feliz Año Nuevo! 🎉

view all comments

brocedes2010 where's Yn??????

schumini_ at least they seem to be on the same place 🙏🏾🙏🏾

redsainz he looks so good it hurts

back to 2024 💬📩

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi! I hope you guys liked this piece! I'm set on publishing my drafts but I need time to work on them, this one was saved for a while now, and it's finally here heheh let me know your thoughts!

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘

▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @fdl305 @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @callsign-scully @dearxcherry @elliegrey2803 @peachiicherries @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit @goldenalbon @balekanemohafe @jamie2305 @nzygftoji @leclercsluv @bbreezybitch @graciewrote @alessioayla @littlesatanicassholebitch @barcelonaloverf1life @noncannonships @fanboyluvr @is-just-a @love4lando @woozarts @namgification @formulaal @v1naco @skepvids

©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.

707 notes · View notes

the-winter-spider · 6 days ago

Text

Invisible | Part 10

Pairings: Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Angst, stupidity, annoyingness lol

A/N: This is the shortest chapter i have lol i also lowkey might add flashbacks into each chapter to add more depth and show more of the before.

The door slams behind you, leaving the apartment in silence, and for a moment, Bucky just stands there, his fists clenched, heart pounding as he processes what just happened. His chest is tight, and he feels the rage and regret building up until it erupts.

With a frustrated yell, he grabs the nearest lamp and hurls it across the room. The shattering glass echoes, cutting through the silence like a knife. Pieces scatter across the floor, a reflection of the chaos inside him.

“Goddammit!” he shouts, his voice cracking as he rakes his hands through his hair, pacing in circles like a caged animal. His breaths come fast and shallow, his mind racing through the night, every word exchanged like a dagger twisting deeper into his chest.

For a few seconds, he just stands there, staring at the broken lamp, his hands trembling. But the stillness is unbearable. He bolts for the door, flinging it open and stepping out into the hallway, shouting your name, his voice raw and desperate. He runs outside looking up and down the sidewalk “ Come on, don’t do this—please!”

But his voice is swallowed by the noise of a New York City Saturday night—distant laughter, honking horns, the steady hum of life moving on without him. He looks up and down the street, hoping, praying for even a glimpse of you, but you’re gone.

His pulse quickens, panic clawing its way into his chest. He rushes back inside, snatching his phone off the coffee table. His fingers fumble over the screen as he types out a frantic message.

Where are you? Please come back.

He hits send, but the empty silence that follows feels like a punch to the gut. He types again, his hands shaking as his heart pounds against his ribs.

I’m sorry. Just tell me you’re okay.

The seconds stretch into eternity as he stares at the screen, waiting for something—anything. When nothing comes, he dials your number, his thumb trembling as he presses the call button. He presses the phone to his ear, the ringing tone like a ticking clock in his mind.

Then he hears it: a faint buzzing, too close. His stomach drops as he turns toward the ceramic bowl by the door—the one he’d made for you last year on your birthday. A bowl meant for keys, little mementos… or your phone. He steps toward it slowly, as if delaying the inevitable, and peers inside. His chest tightens when he sees your phone lying there, abandoned.

“Dammit,” he whispers, his voice cracking. His hand hovers over it for a moment before he picks it up, his knuckles white around the edges. You’d left it behind. The weight of it all—the fight, his words, the reality of you walking out like that—hits him like a freight train.

He sinks down onto the floor, clutching your phone in his lap, his head falling into his hands. His breaths come in uneven gasps, and for the first time in years, tears spill freely down his face. He sees it all replaying in his mind: the way your face crumpled as you turned away, the sound of the door slamming behind you, the silence that followed.

Go. I don’t want you here.

The words ring in his ears, echoing with all the venom and finality he hadn’t meant but couldn’t take back. They were born out of fear and frustration, but now they feel like the truth—like he’s pushed you away for good.

After a moment, he wipes at his face, sniffs, and forces himself to his feet. This isn’t over. It can’t be.

He throws on his coat and rushes out the door, his mind racing as he retraces all the places you might have gone. First, the bar down the street—the one you’ve spent countless nights in, laughing over drinks, sharing secrets you wouldn’t tell anyone else. But it’s packed, unfamiliar faces filling the space where you should be.

Next, the café where you always get your Sunday morning coffee. The lights are dimmed, chairs stacked on tables. Closed. His heart sinks, but he presses on.

The bookstore is next. The one with late hours, where you could spend hours flipping through old paperbacks and laughing at obscure poetry collections. But it’s empty too, the familiar warmth of the shop now a cold reminder of how lost you are.

Finally, he heads to the park. The park where you’d spent so many nights sitting on the old wooden benches, talking under the stars. It’s quiet here, the hum of the city fading into the background. He sits down on one of those benches, his head falling into his hands as his shoulders shake.

He’s failed you. He’s failed himself. The weight of everything he’s been holding back—the fear, the love, the guilt—crashes down all at once. Silent tears stream down his face as he tilts his head up toward the sky, the stars blurring through his tears.

Then his phone buzzes in his pocket.

He scrambles for it, hope surging in his chest, but when he sees the name, his heart twists painfully.

Steve.

His thumb hovers over the screen before he opens the message.

She’s here. She walked from the apartment without her phone or coat. You let her walk out like that? What the hell were you thinking?

Bucky’s throat tightens, and his fingers curl around the phone. His vision blurs as he reads the words over and over, Steve’s anger matching his own self-loathing. He types out a response, but his fingers falter, and he deletes it. What could he say? There was no excuse for what he’d done.

Instead, he slips the phone back into his pocket and leans forward, burying his face in his hands. The ache in his chest deepens, and for the first time, he lets himself feel the full weight of what he’s lost.

He stares up at the sky again, the stars offering no comfort, only the cold realization that he might have pushed you away for good.

And he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get you back. But he never really had you in the first place.

As you step out of the shower, the quiet hum of voices drifts down the hall. Curiosity—and a bit of anxiety—tugs at you as you wrap yourself in a towel and press your ear to the bathroom door. Relief washes over you when you recognize Natasha and Wanda’s voices mixed with Sam and Steve’s, and you close your eyes, exhaling slowly. They’re here; you’re not alone.

Gathering yourself, you open the door and step into the living room, where Natasha is pacing, visibly agitated, while Wanda sits on the couch, her face full of concern. Sam and Steve stand nearby, leaning against the counter, both looking serious. When they see you, the conversation pauses, and Natasha stops mid-rant.

“Hey, there you are,” Wanda says softly, standing up to meet you. “Are you feeling any better?”

You offer a small smile. “Yeah, thanks. Just… processing, I guess.”

Wanda nods, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “We’re here for you. Whatever you need.”

Natasha, however, looks ready to explode. She crosses her arms, her eyes flashing with anger. “It is not okay,” she says firmly. “You don’t just let your so-called best friend walk out alone at night, without so much as a phone or coat.”

You shrug, avoiding everyone’s eyes as you tuck a damp strand of hair behind your ear. “Maybe… maybe we were never really friends. Maybe it was just the convenience of it all, you know?”

Wanda’s eyes widen slightly as she squeezes your shoulder, her voice soft. “You don’t mean that.”

You don’t answer because you know thats just bullshit, but thinking that hurts less, you sigh running a hand through your wet hair, glancing down as the hurt lingers in your chest. The silence stretches for a moment before Natasha breaks it, her tone gentler now.

“So… how was your date with Dean?” she asks, a note of curiosity softening her expression.

A sad smile tugs at your lips. “It was… everything a girl could dream of. He was respectful, charming… and he actually listened to me.” You laugh quietly, shaking your head. “It was perfect.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, looking hopeful. “So… are you going to go on another one with him?”

You hesitate, glancing in Steve’s direction for a brief second before looking back at Natasha. “Yeah… I think so.”

Sam shifts, clearing his throat, a hesitant look on his face. “So, I hate to be the bearer of bad news here, but… you and Bucky still live together. What’s the plan?”

You feel everyone’s eyes on you, and for a moment, the weight of it all settles heavily. You swallow, looking down, and shrug. “I don’t know,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t just… keep going back to the way things were. But I don’t know what comes next either. He’s Bucky yknow?”

Steve watches you, his face soft and understanding, and he offers a reassuring nod. You take a deep breath and settle onto the couch, feeling the weight of everyone’s concerned gazes. After a pause, you look around, your voice soft but firm. “Look, you guys can’t just be here for me. You’ve gotta be there for Bucky, too.”

Natasha scoffs, crossing her arms and shooting you a look. “As if! He’s the one who let you walk out in the middle of the night!....In New York!!! You’re too good of a friend if you’re even thinking about him right now.”

You give her a sad smile, shrugging slightly. “It’s… not about that, even if it was i wouldn’t of let him stop me, i made the decision to leave, i-i could have went to my room and --”

Natasha throws her arms up “Really? Are you kidding me? I love you babe but you’ve been defending him your whole life, he needs to take fault!”

You shake your head, your voice slight rasing “Its not that simple Nat and you know it” You hear her grumble before continuing “He’s going through something too. We’re all friends for a reason, right? We don’t get to just pick sides.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, groaning. “You’re way too good of a friend. Honestly, you’re killing me here.”

You manage a weak chuckle, but before you can respond, you hear Sam moving toward the door. He grabs his keys and his phone, his expression resolute.

Steve raises an eyebrow, looking over at him. “Where are you going?”

Sam glances back, determination in his gaze. “You heard the woman,” he says, nodding toward you. “I’m gonna go be a friend to one of my best friends.”

A surge of gratitude rises in you, and you give him a small, sincere smile. “Thank you, Sammy.”

He nods, a soft smile playing on his lips as he looks at you, and his voice holds a quiet warmth. “What are friends for?”

1 month ago

The air was crisp, filled with the mingling scents of freshly baked bread, blooming flowers, and sizzling street food. The bustling energy of the farmer’s market buzzed around you as you strolled through the vibrant stalls. Your arm was linked with Bucky’s, the two of you laughing as you navigated through the crowd, the warm Sunday morning sun casting a golden glow over everything.

Natasha and Wanda were a few stalls back, rifling through retro furniture pieces and vinyl records for their new apartment. Sam was predictably at a food truck, enthusiastically sampling every free bite they offered.

“You know where we’re headed,” you said with a grin, gently tugging Bucky toward the familiar book stall at the far end of the market.

He chuckled, squeezing your arm lightly. “Obviously. Can’t leave without finding something we don’t have space for on our shelves.”

You both were English majors, and literature had always been your shared sanctuary. The book stall was a small haven of dog-eared novels, rare editions, and hidden gems that called to you like an old friend.

But as you approached, Bucky suddenly stopped in his tracks. His grip on your arm loosened, and his head turned sharply, his expression shifting. “Kate?” he said, more to himself than to you.

Before you could even process it, his arm slipped out of yours, and he was weaving through the crowd, heading toward a figure you hadn’t noticed until now. A brunette. He didn’t say another word, leaving you standing there, your heart sinking as his back disappeared into the sea of people.

You blinked, dumbfounded. “Okay… what just happened?”

“Hey,” a familiar voice said behind you. You turned to see Steve approaching, a paper bag of pastries in hand. His brow furrowed slightly as he glanced around. “Where’d Bucky go?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your voice light. “He saw someone he knew. An old friend, I guess.”

Steve nodded slowly, his concern softening into curiosity. “Did you two make it to the books yet?”

You forced a small smile. “No, not yet. We were about to.”

Steve tilted his head, offering his arm with a warm smile. “Well, do you want to look somewhere else while we wait for him to come back?”

Your heart ached a little, but his kindness made it easier. “Sure,” you said, linking your arm with his. Steve always had a way of making things feel okay, even when they weren’t.

He led you toward the next section of the market, where stalls displayed vintage jewellery, scarves, and other unique trinkets. As you browsed, your eyes caught on something that made you gasp softly—a locket, its delicate gold surface glinting in the sunlight. It looked almost identical to the one you’d lost at some stupid college party that led to a panic attack, it had been so precious to you because it was a family heirloom passed down multiple generations that you of all people lost. It hit you hard.

You picked it up carefully, running your thumb over its intricate design. It was beautiful, and for a moment, you felt that familiar pang of nostalgia, of longing. But when you flipped it over, searching for a price tag, you found none. You sighed quietly, already knowing what that meant. You’d only set aside money for books today—not for a locket, no matter how much it tugged at your heart.

Reluctantly, you set it back down, giving it one last wistful glance before turning back to Steve. He’d been watching you, his expression soft, but before he could say anything, Bucky reappeared, his usual grin plastered on his face.

“Sorry about that,” Bucky said, running a hand through his hair. “I saw someone from college.”

You raised an eyebrow, forcing your smile to stay in place. “Oh?”

“Yeah, remember that girl I had the project with in our last year? Kate. That was her,” he said, nodding toward where she’d vanished into the crowd. “Haven’t seen her since graduation. Got her number, though!”

“Cool,” you said, your voice light but not quite steady. Your chest ached, but you buried it quickly. Even the farmer’s market wasn’t safe from heartbreak, it seemed.

Bucky held out his arm again, his smile as warm as ever. “Shall we?”

You nodded, linking your arm with his once more. “Sure,” you said, glancing over at Steve. “You coming with?”

Steve shook his head, a soft smile on his lips. “No, I’m gonna check out one more stand. Meet you guys at the benches for lunch?”

“Sounds good,” Bucky said, steering you back into the crowd. “Don’t take too long, Rogers. Sam’s probably already ordered for everyone.”

Steve waved you off, waiting until you and Bucky were out of sight. Then, he turned back to the vendor, his gaze settling on the locket you’d been admiring.

“I’ll take that locket, please,” Steve said quietly, pulling out his wallet.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader angst #james bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes

220 notes · View notes

fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year ago

Text

III ║ Edgestitch

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Part II: Threads | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: M

Summary: You wear those jeans for Joel when you see him again at the baby shower at Tommy and Maria's - like he asked you to.

Warnings: Spicy thoughts but not explicit, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, flirting, mention of food and drink, some language, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 7k

Notes: It's here! This one was a long and winding road as I mentioned in Behind the Seams, I'm so relieved and excited when it all finally clicked and fell into place! I'm absolutely blown away by the love you guys have shown Joel and Pin so far, thank you, there's no greater motivation for a writer ❤️ I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

‘Damnit, Lucy,’ you mutter under your breath, this close to stamping your foot and pouting at the door that refuses to lock up.

Lucy may be your best friend, but you’re not blind to the fact that she literally cannot be trusted to get anything done around the shop. It’s been two weeks since she promised to get the locksmith to come in, but here you are on Friday evening, wrestling with the key that refuses to turn the last quarter of an inch in the faulty lock.

‘Hey, Pin!’

Glancing over your shoulder, you force a wane smile at Tommy, who has his hands full with a cardboard box at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Need some help?’

‘Yes, please,’ you reply sheepishly.

You nod at the bottles of wine that clink delicately against one another as he sets them down. ‘Getting ready for the party on Sunday?’

Tommy steps up to the door and wriggles the key left and right experimentally. ‘Yeah, you comin’, right?’

‘Yes, with Lucy.’

‘Good, the more the merrier!’ He makes a face at the door lock, which is not cooperating with him either. ‘You should get someone to look at it. Probably time for a new one.’

‘Lucy was supposed to get Andrew to fix it, but you know Luce.’

Tommy yanks the door knob backwards hard as he twists the key. There’s a grunt of metal, and a triumphant aha! when it finally turns, the internal mechanisms of the lock sliding into place with a satisfying click.

You nearly fall onto your knees in relief. ‘Thank you so much, Tommy. You’re a lifesaver.’

He grins and deposits the key in your waiting palm. ‘You can ask Joel for help, you know. He’s handy with this kind of stuff.’

You blink, blindsided by the seemingly random mention of his brother - but his dimpled smile tells you otherwise.

His brother, who was so solid and broad under you on the studio floor, just a few days ago. His brother, who you can still feel pressed between your thighs, in your bed in the dead of night. His brother, who has taken up residence in your mind, waking or otherwise, since he sauntered out of your shop with that infuriatingly attractive confidence when he asked you to to wear those jeans for him again on Sunday.

Joel has existed solely and safely in the parameters of your workspace for the past fortnight and a half, with only Lucy bearing witness to whatever it is between the two of you. Having to suddenly deal with any mention of him outside of it, especially with that knowing arch of Tommy’s eyebrow, has you completely flustered. It doesn’t help that his eyes are uncannily like Joel’s, a gorgeous deep brown, expressive and sharp, though the mischief sits a lot closer to the surface in the former’s.

Mercifully, your brain unscrambles long enough for you to reach the conclusion that of course, Joel must have told Tommy that he invited you and Lucy. It’s their party, after all. Surely, he doesn’t know anything else -

Or does he?

You’ve been quiet for too long to say anything about it now, so you clumsily change the subject, stumbling over your words. ‘I, uh - I was just wondering what I could bring on Sunday?’

Tommy graciously lets you off the hook. ‘We’re a bit short on sweets, actually, if you bake.’

You latch on to that gratefully. ‘I do - what kind of cake were you thinking?’

‘Do you make a carrot cake?’

You perk up. ‘It’s my favourite!’

He flashes you a cheeky grin. ‘What a funny coincidence, it’s Joel’s as well - the only way to get carrots in him.’

Your pulse spikes with adrenaline at the unexpected tidbit Tommy drops in your lap, and you greedily squirrel that little fact away, slowly colouring in the Joel-shaped space in your head.

With a wink, Tommy bends down to pick up the wine. ‘See you in a couple of days, Pin!’

At least you have the decency to wait until he turns the corner - once he does, you sprint across the road to the Jackson Grocer’s and clear out their stock of carrots for the day.

There are many things about Jackson that throw Joel.

The plentitude after years of rations. The safety, which comes off more jarring than comforting.

But most of all, it’s the sounds. The kettle on the boil and the pop of the toaster in the morning when Ellie gets ready for school. Friendly chatter on the high street. Laughter. It still makes him jump when he hears playful shrieks in the neighbourhood playground, blood rushing in his ears and sending him halfway across the house for his rifle before he remembers where he is.

Where he is not.

It was always loud in the QZ. Loudspeakers blaring, alarms wailing, the indistinct hum of conversation and radio through paper thin walls in the slums at all hours of the day. And he was always listening - for danger, for trouble, and everything in between.

And then all that noise had blown up, literally, with the State House. With Tess.

Joel finds it hard to remember those first few days after leaving Boston behind. Mostly the raw cuts on his knuckles that wouldn’t heal and the ring in his right ear from the explosion, lingering like a pesky fly.

But he knows it was Ellie who broke that silence first. And once that door was kicked down -

‘Fuck no, dude!’

His face snaps up and he scowls across the lawn, the stern reprimand rolling off his tongue like second nature. ‘Ellie!’

She’s sitting with her friends, crowded around her most prized possession of the moment, a boombox she found in the thrift shop a couple of months ago and begged him to buy and fix up for her.

Not that she needed to do much begging, he caved far too easily. It plays a bit wonky - the bass too heavy - still, it does the trick.

The teenagers around her cower immediately, but she defiantly stands her ground. ‘What?’

‘Watch your language,’ he barks, no real bite behind it.

She rolls her eyes so hard her head falls back, and he has to press his lips together to not smile.

It helps him sleep better at night seeing Ellie fit right in - at least one of them has. She doesn’t hate going to school half as much as she pretends to, the routine of homework and chores anchoring her to small town life. She’s even volunteered to help out at the farm, spending most afternoons in the stables with the horses.

There are times when he wonders to which extent all this is a coping mechanism. But well, at least she’s coping.

And while Joel still hasn’t made up his mind about Jackson, its townsfolk seem to have unilaterally made theirs up about him. The wary whispers and watchful stares have given way to cautious gestures of acknowledgement, some even bold enough to throw a good morning in his general direction as he walks down the street.

They nod at him now as they file into the garden party, still keeping their distance, but not as much as he would’ve liked.

The expectant parents have gone all out for the occasion. Several tables are lined up end to end in the middle of the garden, filling up with potluck dishes as guests arrive. Tommy lords over the barbeque, the brisket having been smoking since dawn, with chicken, bacon and homemade sausages sizzling on the grill. Maria is in her element, flitting from well wisher to well wisher with a protective hand over her rounded belly, making sure everyone has a drink and a loaded plate in hand.

Joel hovers in no man’s land, dodging the crowds and sipping on beer that has long gone flat, trying to remember the last time he celebrated anything.

Well, he supposes dinner parties at Bill and Frank’s count, as far and few in between as they were. Not that they ever celebrated anything specific, per se - they didn’t need a reason beyond the fact that they were all still alive and kicking. Bill, bless his soul, did make a mean roast, and Frank used to host with enough flair for forty instead of four. Tess had a black dress she stowed away at the back of her closet for these parties, and a red one that she saved for the really special occasions -

A strong hand on his back jolts him forward and out of his thoughts, spilling lukewarm beer over his fingers.

‘Havin’ a good time, brother?’ asks Tommy jovially, cheeks stretched with joy.

‘I was just now,’ he grunts pointedly.

Tommy grins. ‘Lighten up, man. Get drunk, be merry! You’re gonna be an uncle.’

‘Don’t try to butter me up. I ain’t babysittin’ for you.’

Thumping his chest in mock hurt, he asks, ‘What about all those times I babysat Sarah, man?’

Joel gives him a long-suffering side stare. ‘Please. You used to hire that college chick ‘cross the street to babysit whenever you were supposed to. Then you’d hit on her all night long.’

Tommy chuckles. ‘Damn, your mind’s in better shape than I give you credit for, old man.’

He can’t help a smile. ‘But for all your devious plans to get into her babysitter’s pants, Sarah did love her Uncle Tommy.’

He goes quiet for a beat and takes a sip of his beer, his eyes softening. ‘I think about that girl every single day, y’know.’

Joel nods, staring into his own beer, and it suddenly strikes him that he’s missed the shape of her name on his lips. ‘I know.’

Tommy nudges him on the shoulder. ‘I can only hope my kid will love their Uncle Joel just as much.’

Eventually, he harrumphs, ‘If they do - I’ll think about the babysittin’.’

Tommy chortles just as the backdoor to the porch swings open with a loud creak.

Joel spots you easily, trailing one step behind Lucy. You’re holding onto a cake on a round wooden board like a security blanket, shoulders tense and eyes wide at the noise of the festivities. Spotting Maria, Lucy bounds down the stairs, leaving you hesitating at the landing, and -

You’re wearing the jeans he asked you to.

Something primal swells in the cavity of his chest, between his ribs - a pride that is distinctly male.

Tommy shouts, ‘Pin! Over here!’

Joel shifts on his feet, swallowing thickly as you approach. If your shy smile is anything to go by, he’s not the only one feeling the nerves.

His brother gives you a careful hug around the cake and plants a kiss on your cheek. When he steps aside, Joel hesitates, uneasy with having an audience, his palms suddenly clammy with indecision.

Does he… hug you? He can count on three fingers who he’s hugged for the past twenty years, and he’s sorely out of practice. A kiss is an option, but the way his eyes dart to your mouth, it’s dangerous even entertaining that thought -

Tommy elbows him in the ribs and puts him out of his misery. ‘Why don’t you kids catch up, I think the brisket’s burnin’. Have fun tonight!’

Joel can feel the tip of his ears turning red as he stands there with his drink, one hand shoved in his back pocket, not knowing how to do this. How to entertain. Clearing his throat, he stammers, ‘Uh - can I get you a drink or somethin’?’

You give him a small smile, lips moving in an answer too quiet to reach him over the music. Rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, he admits, ‘Sorry, I can’t hear you. I’m uh - a bit deaf in my right ear.’

You look apologetic, speaking up, ‘I’m sorry - I didn’t know.’

With a shrug, he jokes, ‘It’s ok, I’m a bit broken all over.’

You pinch your lips, and he recoginses that face - he knows that you want to disagree with him. But you hold your tongue, skirting around him to his good ear, and he stoops to close the distance, even though he doesn’t need to.

Your breath brushes his ear. ‘I’d love a drink, but I want to put this cake away first.’

‘Yes, of course - sorry, don’t know where my manners went.’ He puts his unfinished beer away and takes the cake from you despite your protests. The potluck table is packed to the brim, so he gestures towards the house. ‘It might have to go into the kitchen for now.’

You follow him, side by side with one polite body width between you, past bands of neighbours and friends catching up, the fairy lights catching your eyes and the well-kept lawn crunching beneath your soles. Unsurprisingly, you feel the weight of curious stares on your back as you go - Joel is still very much a novelty around town. Neither of you speak until he holds open the backdoor for you to slip inside.

It’s quiet in the kitchen, the muted conversation outside a low hum through the double-glazed windows. The free-standing island is already chock full of all kinds of baked goods and pudding, and Joel has to move an actual jelly castle (which wriggles precariously) to free up space for your contribution.

Dusting his hands, Joel turns to you. ‘That carrot cake?’

You nod, keeping mum.

‘It’s my favourite.’

‘I know - Tommy told me,’ you confess with a bashful half-shrug.

His warm eyes crinkle at the corners. ‘Talkin’ about me behind my back, sweetheart?’

Your breath quickens at the sweetheart, and you wonder if the thrill of the nickname will ever wear thin. Emboldened, you tilt your head to one side and tease, ‘Why? You like the attention?’

A smirk on his lips, he steps into your space, the very proximity of him stealing the air from your lungs. ‘I might if you’re not careful.’

And there you are again - with nothing more than a dozen words exchanged and even more unsaid - on the brink of something, right where you left off on the workshop floor.

‘Wanna grab a bite to eat?’

Tucked away in an intimate corner of the back porch in a wicker chair, Joel surveys the party with a seriousness that is borderline comical.

The strategist in him clearly favours the higher ground the porch affords him so he can keep an eye on everyone and spot whoever approaches from a distance. His seat is an easy three steps to the door, an escape plan in his back pocket. For all his stillness, the intensity is unmistakable, if slightly out of place in a baby shower.

Two dirty plates licked clean are stacked on the coffee table between you, piled high with bones and leftover gravy, the delicious food sitting warm in your stomach.

‘They’re comin’ closer,’ Joel complains, taking a long gulp of his beer.

‘I guess they figure if I’m talking to you, it means that you don’t actually bite,’ you quip.

‘Will they back off if I make you cry?’

Your shoulders quake with a chuckle. ‘I think you’re too much of a gentleman to do that, Joel Miller.’

You’re taken aback by the flash of heat in his answering glance, as if there’s something he wants to say. But then, he changes his mind and leans back in his chair, one palm resting on his spread thighs, and he nods towards a couple standing close to the barbeque.

‘Who’s that over there? He lives on my street.’

‘That’s Andrew. He owns the only hot tub in Jackson.’

Joel splutters, ‘A hot tub?’

‘To be fair, it came with his house, but he managed to connect it to the water a few months ago.’

He snorts. ‘Not very communist of him to divert public resources for a private hot tub.’

‘Let’s just say Jackson is a commune with American characteristics,’ you say diplomatically.

He arches an eyebrow at you. ‘A cynic, sweetheart?’

You reply matter-of-factly, ‘We all know how communism ended.’

Fuck. He takes a swig of his beer and swallows hard. A woman after his own heart.

‘You want to keep him on your good side though. He’s really handy with electrics and the like.’

He shrugs. ‘So am I.’

You turn to him, surprised. ‘Oh?’

‘I was a contractor in another life.’

He notices your attention flicker to his hands, before you catch yourself and look away bashfully. ‘That’s good to know.’

‘You need things fixed?’ he asks, and promptly wants to kick himself for sounding so hopeful to be of service.

‘Here and there,’ you say with a dismissive wave. ‘It’s not important. It’ll hold up.’

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip thoughtfully. You have to work on asking for things, but it’s ok - he doesn’t push you. He files that away for later.

Glancing across the yard, he catches Ellie’s eye, who’s arching an inquisitive eyebrow and pointing straight at you with all the subtlety of a flying brick. He knows he should probably introduce you at some point, but he’s not ready to share your attention with someone else just yet, let alone the nosy teenage loudmouth.

Joel gives her a firm shake of the head, to which she responds with a disgruntled I’m watching you gesture.

Ignoring her for now - and knowing that he’ll pay for it later - he asks you, ‘And who’s that in the red dress?’

You crane your neck until you spot her. ‘Ah, that’s Patricia. She’s the dance teacher down at the school.’

‘Why’s she starin’ at me?’ he mutters.

You shoot him an amused grin. ‘Why, it looks like you’ve caught the fancy of our local femme fatale.’

He scoffs. ‘Should I be worried?’

‘Well, she’s been married and divorced three times since she arrived,’ you answer with a straight face. ‘The last one just disappeared. Never found his body.’

Joel stares at you in stunned silence, until you let out a poorly contained giggle. He grumbles, ‘Havin’ fun pullin’ my leg, sweetheart?’

‘Just a bit,’ you tease.

‘I liked you better when you were shy,’ he ribs.

You shrug. ‘Too late. You don’t scare me anymore.’

Glancing the other way, Joel sits up in alarm at the flutter of crimson fabric. ‘Shit, I think she’s comin’ this way.’

‘Time for carrot cake?’ you prompt.

He’s out of his chair quicker than you’d expect his knees would allow him to. ‘Let’s go, sweetheart.’

The state of the kitchen island stops you in your tracks, while Joel lets out a low whistle behind you. ‘Jackson really turned out for this party, huh?’

‘Well, your brother and sister-in-law are pretty popular around town,’ you quip.

You didn’t think it was possible, but every square inch of the kitchen island is now jam-packed with sugary confections, stacked on top of one another.

‘I can’t even find the bloody cake,’ you laugh, literally searching high and low as you skirt the parameter.

On the other side of the island, Joel tosses a dry good luck in your direction and puts the dirty plates and cutlery that he brought in into the sink with a clatter, turning on the hot water. You stutter to a stop opposite him, gawking at how his broad shoulders fill the frame of the window that sits in front of the sink, before your gaze inadvertently trails south - over the nip of his waist and the hem of his shirt skirting the back pockets of his jeans. You find yourself wishing he’d tucked the tails in.

Rooted to the spot, you watch him unbutton the cuffs on his flannel shirt and push up the sleeves to the crease of his elbows, baring his strong forearms. Your mouth goes dry despite the wine you’ve been sipping on all evening, peering at the sinewy muscles flexing and straining as he lathers the plates with an offhand familiarity, his thick fingers dwarfing the sponge in as he works the grease stains.

Making quick but thorough work of the washing up, Joel dries the plates and then runs the tea towel over his big hands and wrists, catching you staring as he turns around. If he knows you’ve been watching all along, he lets it slide. Tossing the towel to one side, heat prickles under your cheeks when he sidles up to you with the clean plates.

The sight of this man doing something as mundane as dishes really shouldn’t get you this hot and bothered.

‘Is that cream cheese?’ he asks conversationally with a nod at your cake, which you have found sitting on top of a tall plastic caddy, a chocolate cake inside.

Having to consciously unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, you’re surprised your voice doesn’t shake. ‘It’s not carrot cake without it.’

‘Where did you get the cream cheese? Never seen any ‘round town.’

Almost bashful, you admit, ‘I made it.’

His eyebrows shoot up. ‘You made cream cheese? How?’

‘It’s not that big a deal. It’s just milk, lemon and salt,’ you say, trying to downplay it. Your arms are definitely not aching from the hours of straining and beating and whipping.

‘And the walnuts?’ he asks.

‘Someone I know grows it,’ you say vaguely.

Joel hums doubtfully. ‘Ain’t seen any walnut trees in town.’

Biting your bottom lip, you can pinpoint the exact moment he figures it out, brows drawing together in a frown. ‘The only ones I’ve seen are outside the walls, ‘round the north side of the gates.’

Knowing for a fact that you’re a terrible liar, you don’t even try. You choose to ignore him, idly smoothing the frosting on top with a clean knife, trying not to flinch at the weight of his gaze on you.

‘Sweetheart, please tell me you didn’t go outside just to get walnuts for me.’

‘Not for you,’ you shoot back unconvincingly, flustered. ‘I made the cake for Tommy and Maria.’

Lies. You know it. He knows it.

His shoulders stiffen, the fabric of his shirt bunching with the movement. ‘You can’t just go outside like that, y’know, there could be infected ‘round -’

‘Joel, I’ve been living here for years, I know what I’m doing,’ you argue huffily, not expecting a lecture, of all things. ‘I’m not stupid.’

He shakes his head. ‘Ain’t what I’m sayin’, Pin -’

‘Just leave it, ok?’ you reply sharply and, signalling an end to the conversation, you slice into the cake with an aggressive stab - not noticing that it is hanging over the edge of the caddy below.

You squeak when it flips unceremoniously, and on pure impulse, you pitch forward to stop its upward trajectory, meeting it mid-air with an ominous splat.

‘Fuck!’

To his credit, Joel barely skips a beat, quickly but calmly grabbing hold of the cake board and pulling it off you, setting it down on the counter, while you gape in dismay at the damage done.

The side of the cake that made contact with you is smushed in, most of the thick frosting now painted all over your front, from your neck down to the lovely, thin cashmere top that Lucy picked out for you for the party.

You really hope there’s a big guy up there watching, because someone might as well enjoy this mortifying brand of comedy you keep dishing out around this man.

Two seconds more, and you’re pretty sure you would’ve burst into tears for lack of knowing what else to do - but without another word, Joel takes the lead, wrapping a firm hand around your wrist and pulling you out of the kitchen.

You gratefully let him.

It’s none of your business really, but it comforts you that Joel’s obviously here often enough to know his way around the house.

You glance around the dimly lit room where he deposited you on the edge of a neatly made bed, water trickling in the adjoining ensuite. When he returns, he has a small, wet towel in his hands. Towering over you, the low lights don’t quite reach his face, but you can see the way his gaze slips downwards, carefully, as if he’s afraid to startle you.

But he doesn’t - not even when he slides the crook of his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up and opening up your throat.

His lips twitch wryly. ‘What a waste of perfectly good cream cheese.’

Despite yourself, a laugh escapes you at the absurdity of the situation. ‘Must something always go wrong whenever we’re in the same room?’

The corner of his mouth teases a smile. ‘Never a dull moment with you, sweetheart.’

You smile back, but it falters when his eyes burn in a quiet but unmistakable smoulder.

‘May I?’

You’re not even sure what he’s asking. But he can ask you anything in that raspy, low baritone, and there will always only be one answer.

At your nod, Joel drags the tip of his index finger down the column of your neck, and your lips part when it glides over your windpipe - pressing just hard enough for you to feel the pressure - collecting the velvety frosting as it goes.

Then, holding your eyes, he sucks the cream cheese off his fingertip, a hum deep in his throat. ‘Delicious, sweetheart.’

You’re sitting down, but somehow, you still feel your knees give way at how he smacks his lips at the sugary aftertaste.

He looms closer, bending at the waist and for one moment of madness, you think he might lean down and lick your neck clean.

At the prospect of those plush lips and the burn of his silvered, patchy beard on your skin, your head tilts further back invitingly. His pupils dilate and his nostrils flare, like he’s picking up on what you’re thinking, and his eyes dip to your mouth.

But he doesn’t.

You don’t even have time to be disappointed before Joel carefully gets down on one knee in front of you, one palm landing on the mattress next to your hip for balance. Knowing the state of his joints, you want to ask if he needs a pillow, but instead of your mouth, it’s your thighs that part to make room for him. His chest keeps them splayed open, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his ribcage with each breath through the denim.

You try to focus on your own breathing as Joel presses the wet towel to your skin and mops up the sticky mess, his face set seriously as he cleans you up inch by inch. But all you can think about is how you can feel the imprint of his fingers through the thin fabric, and how the span of his hand can easily fit over the column of your throat -

You don’t realise you’re leaning into him until he draws back when he’s done, and you tip forward, chasing his touch. His knee groans as he stands up to his full height, and he nods towards the bathroom with a wait here in his eyes.

The water is scalding as Joel washes out the frosting from the towel, but he keeps his hands under the tap, longer than he needs to. Wringing it dry, he takes a moment, wet palms gripping the cold porcelain edge of the bathroom sink, shoulders hunched over as he tells himself to calm the fuck down.

Except, he is calm. He’s held back, even when you looked at him with such straightforward, honest want that has him grinding his teeth.

Thing is, he knows you would’ve let him nudge you backwards into the mattress and crowd you between his arms, switching places the two of you were in under your sewing desk in the workshop.

He knows you would’ve let him wrap your legs around his hips, sliding his palms up the back of your thighs in those skin tight jeans - the sight of which is enough to make his head spin - and he knows you would’ve let him nip, suck, lick the tangy buttercream off your very neck.

Not only would you have let him - you would’ve trusted him to do all those things to you.

That last realisation awakens something he’s not so sure he has a handle on. But he knows for a fact that with the whole of Jackson milling about downstairs, in the middle of his brother’s baby shower, is neither the place nor the time.

You’re where he left you when he steps back into the bedroom, your palms planted on the bed, your shoulders relaxed. The neckline of your blouse gapes loosely, teasing the soft skin of your cleavage.

Joel breaks the loaded silence with a bit of common sense. ‘You best get that top off and soak it in the bath before the stains really set in, sweetheart.’

You bite your lip hesitantly. ‘I - I don’t have anything to change into.’

‘You can have my shirt,’ he offers.

You sit up, attention piqued, when his hands move to the top of his flannel, thick fingers sliding each button out of the holes one by one. You know he’s just taking off his shirt, but you can’t help the way your jaw goes slack, watching shamelessly, the comforter twisting in your grip as you scrabble for something to hold onto.

Joel doesn’t understand why you’re looking at him like that, but it’s so flattering to watch you watch him, eyes hooded and your tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip, like he’s giving you a fucking strip tease or something.

Goddamn if it doesn’t go straight to his head.

A white undervest comes into view, inch by inch, as the shirt falls open, the thin fabric pulled taut at the seams over the broad stretch of his chest. When the last button is undone, he shrugs the shirt off with a smooth roll of his arms, and your jaw drops.

The undervest barely contains the bulk of him, and you’ll be damned if you know where to look first - the lean, solid line of his arms, or the effortless ripple of muscle in his shoulders - but it’s lower where your attention makes landing, and it takes you a second to realise why.

He’s not sucking in his tummy.

The swell of his abdomen sits above the top of his jeans, where the vest is neatly tucked in. You remember too well the brush of that soft strip of skin against the back of your hands when you were on your knees, cutting him out of his jeans; and then beneath you, straddling him under the sewing table.

While there’s an undercurrent of self-consciousness in the way he holds himself, conspicuously missing is the self-deprecation that drew your ire the day he walked into your shop with a broken zipper. A tentative confidence has taken its place, which is at the same time so endearingly vulnerable, as if your reaction to the little show he gave you just now isn’t enough to assure him of what you’re thinking.

Your fingers twitch, yearning to reach out and tug him in by the front of his jeans, to untuck that vest and push it up and off. You want to snake your hands around his waist, hold him to you by the small of his back, and starting with his tummy, kiss your way across the soft belly - maybe with a cheeky scrape of teeth - up to his firm chest, his strong neck and to his lips.

Or maybe, the calling southwards will win out. You’ll push him back to make room for yourself at his feet, nudging your way down his front with your nose, breathe him in, your hands finding his belt buckle and tugging it out of the loops instead. Never mind you've lost count of how many years it's been since you've wanted to do that, or if you remember how at all -

‘Pin.’

Your whole body jolts backwards when his voice pierces through your addled haze, low and raspy, snapping out of your sordid stupor almost grumpily - how rude of him to interrupt? - only to find him peering down at you with a lopsided smile.

‘Get changed, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.’

Leaving your top to soak in the sink, you pad back into the bedroom in just your bra, and you stare down at his shirt laid out neatly on top of the bed.

You press your palm over where his heart would be, the flannel still warm. For one indulgent moment, you pick up the shirt and hug it to you. It smells like him - the outdoors, a crisp spring day, with a whiff of the barbeque smoke from downstairs. You bury your nose into the soft fabric, eyes closed, imagining the weight and shape of him in it.

Even as you put your arms through the sleeves to button it up, you already know it will be hard giving it back. You leave the last three buttons undone and you’ve just tied up the too-long ends in a double knot when there’s a polite but firm knock on the door.

‘You decent?’

‘Yes.’

You hope your face doesn’t fall too obviously at the sight of Joel wearing a shirt again, probably one borrowed from Tommy. He leaves it unbuttoned though, which is small consolation. The air hums between you with stolen glances and words unsaid.

‘You wore those jeans for me,’ he says suddenly.

The for me rolls off his tongue coated in his delectable Southern drawl and a heady satisfaction.

You decide to be brave and shrug one shoulder in a show of attitude. ‘It was the only thing I didn’t have in the wash.’

His grin makes your heart swell. Stepping out of the open doorway, his eyes trailing heat where they linger over you, he says, ‘You look good in my shirt, sweetheart. Real good.’

You bite your lower lip at the compliment, replying shyly, ‘I like this look on you too.’

‘Used to be Tommy’s uniform during our contractor days,’ he reminiscences. ‘I’m just missing the utility belt.’

Oh. You actually find it offensive that the fleeting mention of something as banal as a utility belt should get you going like this. You try to palm off a non-committal hum, but your body betrays you with a strangled choking sound that gives you away.

Joel arches an eyebrow and closes the gap between you with three long, deliberate steps, one finger skimming where his shirt meets the waistband of your jeans. He teases with a smirk, ‘What’s that, sweetheart? This contractor look doin’ somethin’ for you?’

Your cheeks grow hot as both his palms latch boldly onto your hips, and you swear you can feel the burn of his fingertips through the denim, a moan gargling in your throat as your ability to form words abandons you.

‘That a yes?’ he prompts, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops in your jeans and tugging your body flush against his, his stubbled chin brushing the sensitive crook of your neck as he speaks into your ear.

‘Joel,’ you whine, which is the best you can do right now, grabbing onto the open flaps of his shirt just to stay upright.

You feel the rumble that goes through his chest under your palms when he purrs, smiling down at you, head cocked to one side with a playful condescension that’s going to be the end of you. ‘Yes, Pin?’

Your mouth opens, but you’ll never get to find out what you intended to say, because you hear it first - his right ear is to the door - the thunder of rubber soles on the stairs, and you're lucky you manage to stumble two steps back before a deafening (no pun intended), drawn-out call of his name follows.

‘JOOOOOOELLLL!’

Ellie crashes into the doorway with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, slightly out of breath like she’s been running all over the place searching for him, already in the middle of a sentence, as usual.

‘- also Maria says they’re doing a speech now and you’re not getting out of -’ she breaks off abruptly when she spots you, eyes wide and brows - all one and a half of them - reaching for her hairline. ‘Oh shiiiiiit.’

Running a tired hand down his face, Joel’s sigh sounds a lot like surrender. ‘Ellie, this is Pin. Pin, I’m sorry.’

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh at the resignation in his tone as the teenager wrinkles her nose. ‘Pin? That’s a weird name.’

‘Ellie!’

You smile. ‘It’s ok. Pin's just my nickname. I’m a seamstress at the Main Street Outfitters.’

Her face lights up excitedly, an open book if you’ve ever seen one. ‘No shit! I’ve been bugging Joel for a leather jacket for ages. Can I get one?’

‘Please,’ he interjects.

Ellie tucks in her chin and juts out her bottom lip at you. ‘Please?’

You demur. ‘Well, it depends on what you can trade in for it.’

‘My boombox!’ she volunteers without skipping a beat.

Joel scoffs. ‘Good to know those three weeks fixing that piece of junk for you was time well spent.'

‘Sorry, man, but I can’t wear a boombox can I?’ she argues.

Giving Joel an amused look, you come to his rescue. ‘I’m sorry, Ellie, but we only take clothes in exchange.’ At the way she deflates, you counteroffer, ‘Or, you can come work at the shop on Saturdays for the next couple of months. Lucy always needs help out front, and you get a staff discount.’

He turns to you, protesting, ‘That’s very kind, but it ain’t necessary -’

Ellie cuts in, rushing up to you to shake your hand before you can take it back. ‘Deal! When can I start?’

‘There’s no rush,’ you reply with a chuckle. ‘I’ll get back to you next week.’

Stepping back, Ellie winks, ‘So - let’s put a pin in it for now?’

Joel groans at the terrible pun. ‘Get outta here!’

She cackles, firing triumphant finger guns at you as she retreats. ‘What? Pin liked it, she laughed! You’re no fun old man!’

She then pauses by the door, her eyes narrowing as she zeroes in on something smeared on your jeans. ‘Wait - what’s that white stuff on your leg?’

‘It’s cream cheese, you little shit!’ Joel snaps as your ears burn in embarrassment. ‘Out!’

She scampers out of sight, but then reverses into view, sneakers squeaking. ‘ - Are you wearing Joel’s shirt?’

‘ELLIE!’

She throws her hands up. ‘Alright, I’m gone, I’m gone! See ya Pin!’

Joel is the very picture of an embarrassed dad, rubbing the back of his neck with a wince. ‘Sorry, she’s a handful.’

You grin, ‘She’s just a teenager.’

‘You can say that again.’

The quiet seems louder after Ellie, and you restlessly pick at the sleeves. Lifting your eyes shyly, it seems the moment has passed - but Joel has other ideas.

‘C’mere,’ he hums, drawing you close again with one hand on your waist, peering down at you through his lashes. ‘This ok?’

At your nod, he brushes his thumb on your bottom lip, catching the soft plump skin, and your tongue darts out to taste him, his eyes darkening.

‘Can I kiss you, sweetheart?’ he asks, voice hoarse.

It’s been years. Years since anyone has cared enough to kiss you, let alone cared enough to ask if they could. And it’s as if he knows - you don’t know if you’ve somehow given it away, or maybe it’s just him.

‘Yes, Joel.’

He coaxes you closer so that you’re pressed along the whole length of him. His big palms are warm and solid on the small of your back, holding you to him like he intends for you to have trouble standing after he’s done with you.

The tip of his nose bumps into your cheek, nudging its way across and down, and your eyes slide shut when his shaky exhale grazes your gently parted mouth. Your breath hitches at the sweet burn of his beard on your jaw, fingers grabbing onto the scruff of his neck when he finally, finally brushes his lips against yours.

For a man as hardened as Joel Miller, he sure kisses soft. He steals a whimper straight from your throat with nothing more than the clever angling of his lips, the slow drag of tongue on tongue, and a growl deep in his windpipe that you answer with your own moan.

You don’t even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed when your shins knock into his, breaking the kiss with a laugh as Joel hauls you up into his chest, looking very much pleased that he’s literally made your knees buckle.

‘Sorry,’ you squeak, beaming despite yourself.

‘You really know how to flatter a guy, sweetheart,’ he answers, his voice warming you like a smokey campfire, steadying by his hands on your hips.

‘We should probably go before Ellie comes back for us,’ you say reluctantly.

Joel huffs, ‘Ain’t gonna hear the end of it if she does.’

‘Something tells me you won’t be hearing the end of it tonight anyway,’ you tease.

He chucks you gently under the chin, his eyes soft. ‘Let’s go, sweetheart.’

‘You’ve made yourself scarce,’ remarks Lucy as she ambles up to you with a glass of wine running low. ‘Where you been, hon?’

‘Had some trouble with the cake,’ you answer vaguely.

‘Sure,’ she winks at you, unconvinced. ‘If we’re calling him that.’

Right on cue, Joel strides across the lawn with three plates to join you. ‘Thought you might want some of Pin’s carrot cake.’

‘Such a gentleman, Joel Miller,’ chirps Lucy, making what can only be described as a 'thirst face' at you when his back is turned to her.

‘Thanks, Joel,’ you smile at him, letting your fingers graze his deliberately when you take the plate from him.

Saluting you with a forkful of cake, he says, ‘Thank you for bakin’, sweetheart.’

You watch as his lips close around the fork, dragging the cake clean off the slots, cream cheese smearing the corner of his mouth. He frowns, as if in deep pain as he chews, Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows.

‘Okay?’ you ask nervously, your slice still untouched.

‘Perfect,’ he declares, already having a second, bigger bite. Knowing he doesn’t have a superfluous bone in his body, your chest warms at his words.

‘Wait a second,’ Lucy interrupts, bringing up her plate to inspect it closely. ‘Why does the cake look all wonky?’

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about, Luce,’ you answer coolly, taking a bite yourself.

Humming around a mouthful of moist crumb, the sweet carrot balanced out by the tangy frosting, you meet Joel’s eyes in the soft glow of fairy lights, and he flashes you a conspiratorial smile that makes you grin.

More notes: On Ellie - I was so so nervous about writing our resident teenage badass. I hope I've done her justice, I certainly had a lot of fun writing her introduction to Pin! If you're interested in a detailed deep dive into my process writing this chapter, I do recommend you read the Behind the Seams for this part ❤️

I also went back and forth on the tone and style of this chapter a lot. I wasn’t happy with the way it read, probably still not 100% happy. I like the way Seams and Threads were written better, but the fact is that this chapter is a very different setting and narrative compared to the first two, so I’m trying to be too hard on myself.

So, I have some ideas for where the story will go from here, but nothing concrete. As I've mentioned, I see this fic as more of a loose-fit series, so there's no overarching plot per se, but there's definitely a lot of room for future episodes of these two - I mean, they haven't even done the deed yet 😉

Comments, asks and reblogs are greatly appreciated as always! Thank you so much for reading, I'm so excited to hear what you guys thought of this chapter 😘

#fuckyeahseams #seams iii #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fic

2K notes · View notes

purplecoffee13 · 10 days ago

Text

NFWMB - PART FIVE*

Summary: “Y/N hasn’t been able to stop thinking about what happened, but it seems like she is not the only one overthinking this time…”

Tropes: innocent!reader x boxer!harry

Wc: 3k

Warnings: smutty scenes, oral (fem receiving), dirty talk, teeny tiny bit of angst ig

A/N: I AM BACK! I finished my exams today and I hurried home to write the rest of this chapter bc I have been itching to do so for the past weeks. I will try not to put as much time in between the next chapters, sorry about that! Love you all and enjoy!!!

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

It had been three days. Three entire days since the kissing-in-the-car debacle that Y/N had participated in, and she still wasn't over it. How was she supposed to act normal at their class tomorrow? It had plagued her mind ever since she walked into her apartment that Saturday night.

All weekend, she had been contemplating different things. Saturday and Sunday, she was sure she wanted to never see his face again because she couldn't stand the embarrassment. But when Monday rolled around and re-thought everything after coming back from work, she realized that she should probably be mature and talk to him.

However, that resulted into her pacing around her room like a maniac with the phone in her hand, his number ready to dial. For the past twenty minutes she had been trying to convince herself to just press that call button and get it over with.

"C'mon..." Y/N growled to herself. She stopped in her tracks, took a deep breath, and finally called him. Her hands were sweating as the dial tone sounded over and over again, and the nerves she felt were sure to explode her stomach, but she kept breathing and waited for Harry to pick up.

The distant sound of a phone ringing took Y/N’s attention away from her own attempted call. Her heart began beating even faster as she walked towards her front door, and sure enough, when looking through her peephole, she saw Harry standing in front of her door.

As she took the lock off, Y/N broke up the call and putting her phone in her pocket. Harry's eyes were wide at the door opening all of a sudden, but he still managed to muster an awkward smile amidst his shock before he greeted her.

"Hi." He said quietly.

"Hi." She greeted back, unsure of what to do or say or feel. "uhm, what are you doing here?"

The question came out so soft, as if she was scared to ask it, not ready for the consequences his answer may bear. Maybe it was true; she had always had the feeling that her body was better at communicating her true feelings than her brain was.

"I need to talk to you." Harry said, his tone serious enough for Y/N's chest to start pressing on her, but a soft edge to it nonetheless. "Can I come in?"

She nodded, opening the door wider and letting Harry inside her apartment. He walked in and silently observed the place. Y/N felt oddly tense as she waited for him to take it all in, but he was quite quick to turn around. In the seconds that he stood there, entirely quiet, Y/N deduced the obvious: he was awaiting some instructions from her.

"Go sit on the couch, do you want something to drink?" She asked, already heading for the kitchen. Harry sat down like she told him to, but shook his head.

"No thank you, just wanna talk. Can you... sit down?" His difficulty to meet her eye and the apprehension behind his words had Y/N immediately head for the couch and sit down next to him.

"What did you want to talk about?" She asked innocently, like she wasn’t the reason this awkwardness existed in the first place.

"About last Saturday." He answered. You began to shake your head, cheeks already reddening from the shame that washed over you.

"Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Just— hold on," He interrupted her. "I said something, that night, I can't help but think that you didn't take it how I meant it. And it has been eating at me all weekend because I'd hate to be the fool who accidentally rejected you."

Harry's eyes bored into Y/N's until she couldn't take the intensity of it anymore and looked down. He leaned forward, putting his hand on her leg. She studied his fingers as they slowly caressed her skin.

"Harry, it's okay. I misinterpreted it, you don't have to make excuses to make me feel better." She shrugged her shoulders, hoping to prematurely dodge any bullets that might have ended up with her crying otherwise.

"I'm not!" He protested. "I— Y/N, look at me."

When she didn't instantly comply, Harry's fingers traced up to her chin and redirected her face towards him, forcing her to meet his gaze. His thumb slowly stroked her chin as he took in every inch of her face.

"I wanted it." He said slowly, making sure she heard every word he says. Slowly leaning in, he added: "Really bad."

His lips hovered near hers, so close it was nearly sending her into a frenzy, but far away enough for him to assess her reaction on his movements. But Y/N was an open book, a reactive person when it came to these desires. She couldn't feign disinterest as she had never felt this strongly about someone in such a perverted manner before. Harry mouth slowly curled up into a smirk.

"Can I show you how badly I wanted it?" He asked, the heat of his breath reaching her face and making her core pulsate. The only thing Y/N could do was nod, and before she knew it, Harry's lips closed in on hers.

A soft whine escaped her throat as he kissed her, the desperation of her body unshielded under his roughly delicate touch. Nothing seemed to make sense as he slowly slipped his tongue into her mouth and pushed her back on the couch, nothing but him.

Harry leaned forward, not taking his mouth off Y/N as she sat against the armrest. He hovered over her, his body between her spread legs. One of his hands was holding onto her waist, while the other one kept him up by holding onto the armrest.

As their tongues danced around each other, Harry's hand slipped down from her waist towards her inner thighs, and Y/N felt her panties getting wet at the suggestive caresses of her skin. She put her hands on Harry's shoulders and pushed him back a little bit, their lips now apart. Still caught up in the heat of the moment, Harry mindlessly trailed his kisses down her jaw and then onto her neck.

"Harry." Y/N tried to get his attention, but his name sounded more like an erotic plea, and caused a growl to sound from his lips, followed by a rougher treatment on her neck. Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head as his lips sucked at that sensitive skin of her, and a small whine fell from her as he bruised her neck.

"Ha— hmm... Harry!" She exclaimed. "S— stop."

Within a millisecond, or at least it felt like that, Harry's hands and mouth were removed from her. His face was filled with worry as he took in hers.

"Are you okay? Did I go too far?" He began asking, but she was quick to shake her head.

"No! It's just— I haven't really, done much of this before. I don't have a lot of experience and uhm, I just wanted you to know that before we... proceeded." Y/N explained, voice near trembling as she spoke. Harry's eyes softened, and his face pulled into a soft smile.

"Thank you for telling me." He said, leaning forward and giving her a kiss before pulling back, sitting up straight. "I just have one question, though."

Y/N nodded, big doe eyes staring right at him as that innocent smile transformed into a smug grin.

"Can I show you what I actually wanted to do last Saturday?" He asked, stroking her already spread legs. Before she knew it, the answer fell from Y/N's lips.

"Yes."

He let out a satisfied hum before his hands grabbed at her shorts and pulled them down along with her underwear, leaving her bare cunt to be exposed to him. Y/N blushed, feeling slightly embarrassed at how exposed she was, but the fascination that twinkled in Harry's eyes washed most of her insecurities away. She watched carefully as he leaned down and his fingers began stroking her folds.

Y/N held her breath in anticipation, curiously waiting for Harry to continue, and when he finally put his hands on her clit, she couldn't help but shift in her seat a bit at the tingling sensation.

"O— oh!" She shrieked when she felt Harry's tongue attached itself to her clit, his middle finger now paying more attention to slowly beginning to slide in and out of her. Y/N tried to control her breathing to the best of her abilities as Harry explored her sopping and pulsating core.

Y/N's mind had gone all fuzzy from the sweet feeling of his touch on her sensitive parts. It was impossible to focus on anything else than Harry, and even if it was, she wouldn't dare take her eyes off of him anyway. It was addictive, the way he was ravishing her like she was a culinary meal, and it felt glorying.

Harry temporarily removed his mouth from her heat, and looked up at Y/N before saying: "C'mon, angel. Tell me how it feels."

Her heart skipped a beat at the nickname she'd grown to love ever since the first time he said it, and she tried to control her whines as she responded.

"So— ah! So good..." She managed to reply, her knuckles turning white from balling up her fists in an attempt to not come too early. Harry's tongue swept over her clit in such an intoxicating way, and his now two fingers pumping in and out of her was only getting her closer to her inevitable climax.

Harry moaned at her verbal approval, and picked up the pace of both his mouth and his fingers, leaving her nothing but a whimpering mess under him. This was surely going to be the death of her, wasn’t it?

"Harry— I think I'm going to..." She ran out of breath before she could finish your sentence, and she began convulsing around him, legs trembling as her orgasm began to reach her like a wave building up. And then just like that, it crashed.

With a cry of his name and a few profanities that followed, the sensual waves of her release hit Y/N. The release was slow and long, and one of the most satisfying ones she'd ever had. Harry's touch stayed on her skin, helping her ride out her high.

When he finally backed away, Y/N was still breathing heavily from what she had just experienced. Wide eyed, she observed how he licked his lips before he looked up at her. She could've come again from the sight of that alone.

"D'you want some water?" Harry suddenly asked, getting up from the couch and walking over to your kitchen. She followed him with her eyes, mouth agape as he went through her kitchen cabinets until he stumbled upon two glasses and filled them with water. As he returned to the couch, he raised a brow, indicating that he was still waiting on an answer.

"Uhm, yes, thank you." Y/N stumbled as he handed her the glass. She took a few sips, scanning him while she drank. He was so casual all of a sudden, leaning back against the couch with his legs spread like that... there was something cocky about it and Y/N wasn't sure if she wanted to roll her eyes at it or jump his bones.

Possibly both, at the same time.

Y/N put her glass down and slowly crawled over to Harry, who sniffed a laugh at her wobbly movements on the way too squishy couch. She hoped it would at least come off as cute, now that her attempt at being sexy had been trampled by her own furniture.

As the laughter from both parties died down, Y/N took it upon herself to slowly start kissing Harry's neck. Her heartbeat rose when she felt him shifting in his seat, a pained sigh escaping his throat. Meticulously, she dragged her hand down his chest until it reached his pants, and she began unbuckling his belt.

She was surprised when she felt his hand pull hers away, and stopped her actions to see what was going on. When she saw his clenched jaw, she frowned.

"Are you okay?"

"You don't have to do that angel." He said, tilting his head a bit. She slowly shook her head.

"Oh, alright." She said, and felt a pang in her chest at the idea that she could've done something wrong. Harry took both of her hands, cupping his over them.

"I’d like to save it for next time." He suggested, the slight raise of his brow adding a certain playfulness to his reply. The hint of a smile on his face filled her with a warm feeling, and she quickly found herself nodding at what Harry had said.

“Plus, I have to get my beauty rest… I’ve got a long day tomorrow. I teach this private self-defense class, client’s got me working till late.” He joked, eyes beaming when a giggle fell from her lips. Y/N took her bottom lip between her teeth, stomach fluttering as she took in the painfully beautiful, funny, charismatic man in front—or well, under her.

“Really? Is she any good?” She teased back, brows raising in surprise when Harry nodded.

“Difficult to teach tho.” He responded.

“Why’s that?” Y/N questioned, genuine curiosity dripping from her tone. Harry took his eyes off her and shamelessly lowered his gaze to her body as his hands, that had dug into her waist, slowly began to trail down to her ass.

“‘S just so hard to concentrate…” He said lowly, and she felt her core heating up again at the sole sound of Harry’s voice. Her cheeks flushed alike at what he was implying, and she felt like an animal with the way her body reacted to him.

Y/N remained as quiet as she could, savoring Harry’s touch on her bare skin. She would have closed her eyes, had she not been too mesmerized by her face to do so.

Nerves swirled in her stomach as she watched Harry’s stare trail upwards again, only to stop at her lips. Gradually, he leaned forward, closing the gap between the two’s mouths. Y/N couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her when Harry put his lips on her again, and much like the touch of his hands on her, she relished in the way his tongue circled around hers, and she was surprised at how well their bodies captured the connection that she had been unable to explain in words.

It was safe to say that Y/N was disappointed when at last Harry pulled away, but she couldn’t be mad at him, not with that face of his.

Her eyes widened when he got up all of a sudden, hands still holding up her thighs in the few moments before she wrapped them tightly around him in response to the sudden movement. He sniffed a laugh, which Y/N was only able to hear because her arms were locked around Harry’s neck and her face was only a few centimeters away from his. The urge to smile almost prevailed over her shock.

Harry’s hands let go of Y/N’s thighs, and she lowered her legs in response, putting her feet on the ground again and removing herself from his touch completely.

As they walked towards the front door, Y/N found herself to be a bit gloomy. She didn’t want him to leave, he was so fun to be around. He made her not worry, which was a miracle because Y/N always worried. And she knew she’d go back to worrying and overthinking the second she’d be alone again, so the prospect of Harry going away was not the most fun. She had to remind herself that she’d see him tomorrow, though.

Y/N opened the door, waiting as Harry put on his coat. When he finally had, he turned to her one last time.

“Sleep tight, angel.” He said, and with that, walked right out the door. Y/N croaked out a weak ‘bye’, but she was pretty sure she’d heard the elevator ding by then.

It took her a minute to recover physically before turning off her lights in the living room and floating towards her bathroom, where she smiled like an idiot all the way through brushing her teeth.

It wasn’t until her head hit the pillow that what she dreaded came along again: that tiresome worry. Thoughts and scenarios filled her head as she lied in bed, watching the ceiling as if it would grant her answers, or peace.

It was as if, with Harry, nothing else truly mattered. Not necessarily in the corny, dramatic way, but rather in the sense that it felt like the outside world wasn’t that much of a factor in Y/N’s decisions, nor did she have the feeling that it should be whenever she was around him. But when he was gone, it would all start to matter again and suddenly she found herself doubting whether dating Harry would even be a good idea.

What would her parents think? What would Sophie think? Would she be viewed as less professional by her co-workers for dating her trainer? Would it impact Harry’s reputation—

She stopped herself. Probably not, considering Harry was a man.

It was with a frown that Y/N eventually dozed off into a deep slumber. Not even in her dreams she was safe from the anxiety that plagued her, a nightmare about being fired stirring her awake at around four in the morning. She was more exhausted when she woke up than when she went to bed.

But despite all of it, her body still buzzed in anticipation of tonight’s class…

Taglist: @meetmeatyourworst @mema10 @seafoamwhispers @namoreno @inkedskin @fangirl509east @mellamolayla @lizsogolden @prettydelilah @kierramcduffie @harry2121 @babegoals @hermionelove @bitchidontpost @lomlolivia

#harry styles #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #blurb #harry #one direction #one shot #smut #excerpt #harryedwardstyles #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry edward styles

286 notes · View notes

joequiinn · 7 months ago

Text

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 2

[chap one] | [all chapters here] | [chap three]

summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

a/n: Oooh I'm excited for this chapter! Would love to hear what everyone thinks about Eddie's characterization! And, after editing this chapter about half a dozen times, I feel like I'm still just not quite conveying the motivations of the character well, so let me know if her thoughts/feelings could be more clear!

taglist: @daisyridleyss @munsonssweets @marrowfrog00 @lotrefcp @rach5ive

wc: 4.0k

Chapter Two

Getting away on Sunday afternoon to meet Eddie was easy. You’d celebrated your birthday on Saturday, with your friends dragging you along on plans that they put together weeks in advance before you returned home for a far too formal dinner with your parents. You probably could have - and should have - been more excited considering that you were toasting your legal adulthood, but if anything, it just stirred even more desire for change and rebellion in you. What good was being a legal adult if you were still trapped in high school, if you were still just following the status quo?

You told your parents as you were leaving the house that afternoon that you were going to the ice rink - your dad grunted in acknowledgement, too caught up in his reading to really hear you, and your mom commended you for how dedicated you were to skating. To both responses, you rolled your eyes, leaving without saying goodbye.

You knew exactly which picnic table Eddie referred to in his note, as you weren’t the first person to meet him there for a drug deal, nor would you be the last. It was a well-known spot for students to meet with the metalhead - although it seemed like no one actually talked about it, probably because they themselves didn’t want to admit to any interaction with him, somehow everyone knew exactly where Eddie made his deals.

There were trails running through a lot of the forest that made it easy to find your destination; you left your car on a neighborhood street not far from the school, and trekked your way into the woods. It was still pretty in late September - leaves weren’t falling to the ground quite yet, and the sounds of wildlife could still be heard up in the trees and low on the ground. Not that you were one to appreciate nature much at all. But it was hard not to at least notice it as you walked quietly along the trail, going over exactly how you might propose this crazy idea of yours while trying your best not to trip over rocks or step in mud puddles.

When you arrived at the picnic area, Eddie was nowhere to be found, which was actually a relief to you. It gave you more time to think, to calm down and find the best means of conveying this idea to him. You felt stupid, having this strange and foreign anxiety in your chest, but it couldn’t be helped. Best you could do was relax and put on a cool face whenever the delinquent did finally show up.

You were about to sit at the picnic table, but quickly decided against it once you took a closer look at the rotting wood - it was disgusting and dirty, and you weren’t going to risk ruining one of your favorite skirts or catching some nasty disease. So, instead, you paced, keeping your mind busy as you waited, taking in your surroundings with an air of boredom as the hour hit 4 and you were still here alone. Eddie better show, or you weren’t going to be happy.

Eventually, the sound of footsteps crunching on twigs and brush caused you to look around, not quite sure which direction the sound was coming from at first. But it didn’t take long for you to spot Eddie hiking his way to you, surprised amusement on his face as he approached. He cocked his head, lips tugged back in a grin, as your heart skipped nervously; god, you felt so stupid being edgy like this, it was so unwarranted.

“Well, well…” He drawled, crossing his arms as he walked closer to you, “I’ve seen a lot, but the ice princess wants something from me? Now I really have seen everything.”

The way he said “ice princess” was jarring, almost as if it was both an insult and an inarguable fact. Yes, you’d heard people call you that before, but never with the gusto that Eddie Munson added to it - you briefly wondered if the nickname was more common than you originally thought, and then you wondered who it was that first came up with it. Was it Eddie? No, if anything it was probably someone in your own circle that started that stupid nickname, maybe even Duncan - you didn’t think Eddie cared enough to come up with a nickname for some popular kid who he’d never even spoken to before.

It’s as if his use of the derogatory nickname immediately reminded you that there was no reason to be nervous, because you could feel your usually cool demeanor coming back to you.

“Don’t cream your pants, Munson.” You replied bluntly, crossing your arms as if to mimic Eddie’s posture. His brows went up in surprise - it briefly crossed your mind that he might not have known what your voice sounded like, let alone how you talked. Well, now he knew.

Eddie tilted his head down slightly as if speaking to you conspiratorially, “I wasn’t expecting a chick like you to be so vulgar.”

You rolled your eyes. Okay, maybe this discussion would be more challenging than you had anticipated. Having never actually interacted with Eddie before today, you couldn’t have predicted what your dynamic together would be. From what you could tell after only this one minute of interacting, your personalities were bound to clash, making your impossible plan all the more impossible.

“I guess I’m full of surprises.” You replied plainly, your tone disinterested. Without thinking, you leaned your rear on the picnic table, but quickly jumped away when you remembered how dirty it was, an affronted sound escaping your lips. As you tried to wipe dirt from your ass, Eddie chuckled. To that, you shot him a cold glare.

“Alright, what are you looking for, princess?” Eddie asked while sitting on the filthy bench - that felt intentional, as if he was mocking your disgust at the grime and muck on the table, “Ask and you shall receive.”

You raised a critical brow at his theatrical tone, at the way he said ‘princess,’ at his entire demeanor. Yup, this was going to be impossible. You were certain that your judgmental expression was clear as day, because you could see the cogs turning behind Eddie’s eyes, how he was analyzing you just as much as you were him.

You stared at him with your arms crossed, your hip jutting out to the side as you briefly considered him, considered what you wanted to ask of him. You made a bit of a harsh face as you responded, “That’s a bold claim, considering that you don’t know what I’m going to ask.”

You met Eddie’s dark eyes as if to make a point, his brow furrowing in curious response. His gaze was mocking as he held your stare, “You think anything you ask for will shock me? Snobby rich kids always want the same stuff.”

“‘Snobby?’” You nearly snapped, glaring smally in offense. To that, Eddie pointed his hand at the empty bench across from him, a defiant look on his face.

“Take a seat then.” He challenged, the corner of his mouth curling up. You make another grossed out face, to which he gives a half-hearted shrug, giving him all the confirmation that he needed, “That’s what I thought.”

You scoffed, turning your back while grumbling, “God, I knew this was a stupid idea…”

You started to walk off in annoyance, trying your best not to trip over rocks or sticks in your haste, but only made it a few steps before Eddie called after you, “Wait, wait, come back…”

You spun back around, but remained planted where you stood, raising an eyebrow and crossing your arms as if prompting him to continue, to grovel and earn your trust.

“I’m just joking,” Eddie raised his hands in a lazy surender, his face growing surprisingly sincere after a moment, although that sincerity was also laced with a hint of judgment, “What are you gonna ask for, then?”

He’s patient, watching you as you deliberate what to do. Was it worth it? Did you really need Eddie to make this plan work? Should you call this off while you still had the chance?

No. This plan was stupid as all hell, but you were going to do it. With a determined little stomp of your foot - Eddie smirking in amusement at the mildly childish action - you approached the picnic table, bracing your hands against it as you tried to ignore the feeling of dirt getting under your nails.

“If you laugh at me, I’ll ruin you.” You threatened while meeting his eyes. Again, Eddie grinned, but he otherwise kept his mouth shut, which seemed to be his way of agreeing to your terms, “I don’t need drugs, I need a favor. It’s gonna sound… honestly ridiculous.”

“Okay…” Eddie leaned forward so that your faces were only a foot apart; his expression was one of neutral attentiveness, however, you could see the sparkle of intrigue in his eyes. You don’t pull back from the close proximity he created, studying one another’s faces; it felt strange to be observed by him so closely, as Eddie had a way of scrutinizing you that felt different from those you knew, different from the way people normally looked at you. You tried to find the best way of proposing your dumb idea, but nothing would make your request sound less crazy than it already is.

Finally, you gave up with a sigh and just blurted it out, “I need you to date me.”

Despite your earlier threat, an unexpected bark of a laugh jumped out of Eddie’s mouth. He raised his fist in front of his lips and pretended to cough, as if that would do anything to hide his very clear amusement. Your eyes widened in intense warning. To his credit, Eddie composed himself quickly, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, although you could still see a little twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“Can you repeat that for me?” He prompts, fighting off his laughter and confusion.

Again, you roll your eyes - god, you were going to be doing that a lot with this guy, weren’t you? You were already getting tired of it.

“I don’t want to actually date you,” You said as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world, “Just pretend. You know, like one of your dumb games.”

Eddie’s eyes darkened a little at the insult, but instead of retaliating he simply pulled back, putting a bit of distance between you. He looks you up and down in consideration, his mind racing to understand your unexpected request.

“Care to elaborate?” He questioned, his tone mildly critical.

You purse your lips in annoyance as you consider where to start, eyeing Eddie closely - how the hell did you explain to someone that you wanted them to be your fake boyfriend? You sighed, pulling back from the table, starting to walk in a slow circle around it. The motion was vaguely like skating around a rink, so in an odd way it helped you think.

“I hate literally everything about my life,” You paused, half expecting Eddie to mock your pathetic woes, but he remained silent, “It’s my senior year and I’m only now realizing that nothing in my life is up to me, that I don’t have any control over anything - everything is decided by someone else. And I’m fucking tired of it.”

You could see mild surprise on Eddie’s face, and you wondered if it was because of your foul language - it always seemed to surprise people to hear the way you could talk considering how nice and well-behaved you appeared, although you’d always been anything but.

You continued, “I want to do something stupid, something that’ll piss off my parents, that’ll get everyone to stop treating me like some untouchable, perfect princess.” You chose the word deliberately, looking Eddie dead in the eye, “And what stupider than to date Eddie freaking Munson?”

Now, it was Eddie’s turn to look somewhat offended, “Gee, thanks.”

Maybe it wasn’t the most effective tactic to keep insulting the man you were trying to bribe, but you just couldn’t seem to help yourself. You didn’t exactly know how to be nice to anyone. Eddie’s eyes considered you for a moment before something of a mean look flickered across his face.

“This has something to do with that boyfriend of yours, doesn’t it? What, you break up or something?” And then an almost mirthful realization flashed across his eyes, obviously seeing some change in your demeanor that you didn’t intend for him to notice, “Ooh, I get it. He broke up with you, didn’t he? You trying to win him back?”

You brace yourself against the table again as you glare at him, but otherwise you maintain your composure, your tone condescending and mean as you reply, “I do not want him back. He could drive off a bridge for all I care. I want to get under his skin. I want to get under everyone’s skin.”

You could tell that Eddie didn’t get it - he still didn’t understand why you needed his help in this ridiculous plan of yours, and he didn’t understand why you were feeling the way you did. With a sigh, you try to calm down and unclench your tight jaw.

“Look, Munson,” You caved in and stiffly took a seat on the opposite bench as if to bolster your argument, to make him take you a little more seriously, “I know it sounds crazy, but I just know nothing else will work.”

“And how do you know that?” He urged - you couldn’t tell if he thought you were an idiot or if he was actually interested in hearing you out.

You stared at Eddie for a long moment, trying to find the easiest way to make him understand. He stared back, again showing far more patience than you would have expected from him, especially with the likes of you. As you study his face in thought, you finally sigh, shaking your head as you look away with a vague annoyance set on your features.

“I don’t actually know, okay?” You start, eyeing him out of the corner of your eye for a few moments, “What I want is complete and utter… social suicide. To just stop worrying about my reputation or what people think. I’m sick and tired of expectations and status quos and doing what I’m told or what people expect. I want to piss everyone off. I want to piss Duncan off. I just… it feels like I need to change, you know?”

“Nope, I have no idea what you mean.” Eddie says plainly, and as you glare at him, you realize he’s joking once he finally cracks a smile. His eyes are surprisingly kind as he leans forward on his elbows, parroting your words, “When have I ever subscribed to expectations and status quos and doing what I’m told?”

At that rhetorical response, your face relaxed for the first time this entire conversation. Hell, you even felt a mild excitement wash over you as you consider what his words were implying, “So… you’ll do it?”

Eddie makes a face as if he’s still mulling over the idea, still trying to figure out what exactly your motivations were, “I mean, you’re bratty and rude and this plan is kind of stupid, but I might do it.”

“Might?” You ask, trying not to sound too pushy or annoyed by his casual insults. If this was going to happen, you both had to learn to stop prodding at each other like this, learn to stop picking on each other just because you could. That might prove to be the most challenging part of all of this, though.

Eddie smirks, rising back to his feet as he contemplates, “What do I get out of this? And don’t say money - that’ll make me feel like a prostitute.”

As you pulled a face, Eddie grinned at his own comment, obviously finding that idea amusing in some way. And like a teenage mimicry of a business person, you sat up straighter, looking at him plainly as you presented your offer, “No, but I do have one idea. But if you think of something better…?”

Eddie nods in confirmation, urging you to continue.

“Well, my uncle’s a cop--”

At that, Eddie chuckles abruptly while cutting you off, “Oh, trust me, I know exactly who your uncle is.”

Aside from shooting him a small look, you continue as if he hadn’t said anything, focused on getting this plan hatched, “I think I can help you. You can’t get in trouble with them anymore if I’m the one taking the fall.”

Eddie’s brows rose in surprise at your words, his arms crossing as he studied you, “What, you think your pretty little ass can handle a night in lock up?”

“No, genius,” You roll your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time, “If it falls on me, there will be no jail, no arrest, nothing. The minute I tell someone who my uncle is, they won’t even think about putting a hand on me, that would be stupid. I’m effectively untouchable.”

Eddie nods, rubbing his chin, “But doesn’t that go out the window if you commit… What did you call it? ‘Social suicide?’”

You shrug, “Maybe. Maybe not. But I can probably keep them off your ass for the rest of the school year so long as you don’t do something too stupid.”

“You want to date me until graduation?” Eddie makes a dramatic show of placing his hand to his chest as if he’s flattered.

“Jesus…” You mutter to yourself with a sigh, “We’ll see where it goes.”

Eddie, again, nodded while humming in consideration. You sat quietly, waiting for him to add something to the conversation. You could tell that he was drawing it out, though, milking the moment just for the hell of it, to put you on edge. Suddenly, he slaps his hand down firmly on the table, causing you to jump in your seat.

“We have a deal.” His eyes glint as he smirks at you, “We play happy little couple, we destroy your reputation, piss off all your friends, and you keep me out of trouble. What could possibly go wrong?”

It suddenly felt like he jinxed everything by saying that, ruined it before you could even begin, but you ignored that feeling as you gave him a slight smile, actually pleased with how the conversation had gone. Of course, there was still that strange sense of disbelief at the entire situation - it was the most ridiculous thing you’d ever thought of or done, but that also made it kind of exhilarating in its odd way.

Eddie walked around the table, leisurely sliding onto the bench beside you, intentionally leaning over to bump your shoulder playfully. It was unexpected, causing you to make a slight face at him, but that only seemed to amuse him more.

“Look, princess, you gotta start being nicer to me if you want to convince anyone that we’re a couple.” Although his tone was teasing, you knew what Eddie said was true. Even you, known for your bitchiness, couldn’t be too mean to the man that you were supposedly dating, especially if you wanted to get under Duncan’s skin - the nicer you were to Eddie, the more it would annoy Duncan that you were never that nice to him.

“Fine.” You say plainly, looking him in the eye, “If that’s the case, no more ‘princess.’”

Eddie made a teasing face, “Then what do I call you? It would look strange if your boyfriend didn’t have any pet names for you, right?”

You sighed, but he did make a good point - it made you realize that you needed to lay out some ground rules for this whole fake dating thing, something that you hadn’t accounted for during your planning stage.

“When we’re around other people, just call me something nice. I don’t care what it is.”

Eddie’s playful expression was still in place, “Oh, you’ll regret that…”

You rolled your eyes, and yet this time the corner of your mouth pulled up into an amused grin despite yourself, “Just be nice to me and I’ll be nice to you. Can’t be too hard, right? And don’t touch me unless it’s in front of people.”

You looked him up and down critically with that comment. It's not that you were worried about him being gross or anything like that, you just hated people touching you unnecessarily.

“Any other commands, my liege?”

“What, you want me to write this down for you or something?”

Eddie pretended to consider the idea, “If only I knew how to read, princess.”

You made a face, knowing that Eddie kept calling you that dumb nickname quite intentionally, that he kept testing you with deliberate aim. Trying to resist rising to the tempting bait, you continued explaining the dos and don’ts of fake dating.

“Okay,” You started, raising your pointer finger. Eddie made a show of paying close attention, surely just to mock you, as you raised another finger with each new rule you stated, “One: we have to try to be nice to each other. Two: no unnecessary touching if no one’s around. Three: we have to spend a lot of time together, like, not just at school - we have to go out sometimes, especially to places where people will see us. Four: we have to be extra obnoxious when Duncan’s around. Five: … I’m in charge.”

At the last instruction, Eddie laughed right in your face, “You’re in charge? I thought this was a relationship, not a dictatorship.”

You had a response ready to leave your lips, but you let it go - practice for the inevitable niceties to come, you supposed. Eddie studied you for a moment while half smiling, seemingly aware that you were doing your best to bite your tongue.

“Alright, alright, you’re in charge…” He rose to his feet, which seemed to signal that the conversation was coming to an end, “So, what, starting tomorrow I’m your boyfriend?”

“I mean… Should we build up to it first?” The question sounded ridiculous, you knew it sounded juvenile and naive in its way, but it had to be asked. And yet again, Eddie chuckled.

“Sure, we’ll ‘build up to it.’” His tone was teasing, but not quite so mean as before. Eddie studied the look on your face, trying to learn how to read you considering the amount of time you were surely about to start spending together, “Don’t worry, princess, I’ve got this in the bag. Relinquish some of that control a little, okay?”

He slowly began to walk backwards towards the trail, waiting for you to join him, so you stood to walk alongside him. You almost neurotically began dusting yourself, trying in vain to get the dirt and the mud and the dead leaves off of your skirt, out from under your nails.

You caught up to Eddie easily enough, continuing to pick at your well manicured nails, “I’m serious, Munson, please don’t fuck this up.”

Eddie threw his arm around your shoulder, once again disregarding one of your rules without a single care. He looked down at you with a teasing look on his face, confirming that he did that on purpose, confirming that he was sure to keep doing it on purpose, “Relax. I’ll flirt with you tomorrow, I’ll flirt some more throughout the week, I’ll start hanging around your locker or talking to you at lunch, and then by the end of the week I’ll ask you on a date. Deal?”

You stared into Eddie’s eyes a moment before lifting his arm off your shoulders, stepping just out of reach with a mild sneer on your lips, “Okay, deal.”

His smile is wide as he walks alongside you back to your cars. This was going to be one hell of a time, and he, frankly, was all too curious to see how it would turn out.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #em #dos and donts

580 notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 10 months ago

Text

(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter Eleven - Reunited (and it feels so good)

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

1.9K

Warnings: dick sucking, fucking, mentions of necklace lando (bc goddamn)

Series Masterlist

It wasn't common for teammates to visit each other in the hospital after a crash. The McLaren team didn't expect it, didn't expect for Lando to rush straight to the hospital as soon as the race was done.

He went straight to her room, where she was laying on the hospital bed getting some well deserved rest. When Lando walked into the room, her eyes flew open. It must have been from the sound of his footsteps, he justified.

She sat up with a groan and looked at Lando. "Hey," she said, rubbing her eyes. "What're you doing here?"

"I had to come visit you, didn't I?" Lando said as he sat on the seat beside her bed.

Y/N let her head fall to the side as she looked at him. "Well, I appreciate it, Lan. But you don't have to stay here. You can go if you'd like," she said and patted the hand that sat on the bed.

But Lando wasn't going anywhere. When the doctor came to discharge her, Lando asked every question he could think of, acting like her boyfriend. When she was discharged (she had flu and slight dehydration, not enough for the doctors to keep her in), Lando walked out holding her things.

He had his arm around her. Keeping her up, he said. It didn't matter whether it was true or not, Lando didn't let go of her until they were back in her hotel room, packing her things.

Lando was supposed to leave Sunday evening, after the race. But he stuck around, waiting for Y/N to get out of the hospital. He was gonna take her home with him, take care of her once they were back at the apartment.

"You gave me a scare there," said Lando as he drover her back to the apartment. "For a minute I was scared you were pregnant."

Y/N ran her hands over her face. "Jesus, shit, Lando. We've used a condom almost every time! You over dramatic asshole." That last bit she muttered under her breath.

She climbed out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her. As exhausted as she was, she still marched away from him, making her way up to their apartment. Lando watched as she walked away from the car, disappearing through the door of the apartment complex.

She hid herself away in her room for the next few days, only emerging to make herself soup and tea. That was what kept her going, the irregularly timed bowls of soup and constant cups of fruity teas.

She wasn't avoiding Lando, wasn't exactly mad at him for being so dramatic, but she didn't want to get him sick. So, she stayed away.

She got worse before she got better, watched her favourite movies on repeat as she waited for her coughing and her sneezing to stop. Every day Lando knocked on her door with a cup of tea, which Y/N took gratefully. She didn't drink it, though. The gesture was incredibly sweet, but Lando couldn't make a decent cup of tea to save his life.

On the first day that she was feeling ever so slightly better, she was bored. And she missed Lando. She missed the feel of his body beneath hers, the way he gripped her hips as he moved her on top of him.

The box under her bed should have kept her company, but she was too sick for that. Plus, it just reminded her of the times that she and Lando spent together, using the items in said box.

She didn't emerge from her room until the second day that she was feeling better. Her throat was still tickling, but her nose wasn't running and she didn't feel like she needed a nap every time she so much as moved a muscle.

Y/N walked out of her room. She sat herself on the sofa, putting her feet up onto the coffee table, and turned on the television.

"Holy shit, you're alive," said Lando as he emerged from his own room.

Y/N cleared her throat and adjusted herself in her seat. "Lovely to see you too, Lan," she muttered, her head turned to the side to look at him. "You want to watch Star Wars with me? Meet your namesake?"

"I was not named after Star Wars Lando," he insisted as though they'd had this conversation several times before.

"His name is Lando Calrissian, you should know that."

For all of his protesting, Lando sat beside her anyway. He copied her pose, placed his feet up on the coffee table (knocking one foot into hers), and opened his arm, letting her tuck herself into his side.

"When do we meet Lando?" He asked, his fingertips playing with the ends of her hair.

She smirked at that. "Oh, in the next movie," she said quietly, taking his other hand and playing with his fingertips.

Lando went to stand up, but she clamped her fingers around his wrist. "Nope, Lan, you're going to stay here and you're going to like it."

So, he stayed. Not because he was sucked into the science fiction movie from the seventies that his roommate seemed to love, but because she wanted him there. As long as she wanted him, he wasn't going anywhere.

On the third day, Y/N was feeling right as rain.

In her hoodie and shorts (with lingerie beneath), she knocked on Lando's bedroom door. "Lando Norrissian! I'm feeling better and I want to get freaky!"

She pushed open the door.

Sat in his gaming chair in his best pants, Lando smirked as she walked into the room. She strode over to him, throwing off her hoodie as she did so. "Fuck me, Lan," she began (which he quietly replied to). "I've been looking forward to this since the last Grand Prix.

She got to her knees, blinking up at him as she touched him through his pants. "Has little Lando missed me too?" She asked, running her tongue along her bottom lip.

"Don't call him that," Lando muttered, but he was hard beneath her touch.

She pushed down his boxers allowing him to spring free. "Missed you too, buddy," she whispered and kissed the head of his cock.

Lando couldn't reply. He simply moaned and bucked his hips up. Y/N kept a hold of him, keeping him still as she took him into her mouth. It wasn't the easiest, considering she was still recovering from the flu, but she still sucked him. Not pushing herself too hard, her gag reflex couldn't handle that for the time being.

Lando's fingers knotted through her hair, holding her tightly. He wasn't directing her or forcing her down onto his cock, letting her control the pace. He just wanted something to hold.

Just once did Y/N take him all the way in. She sucked his head before pushing all the way down, until her nose made contact with his navel. But she quickly pulled away from him, took some time to recover before she started again.

As she swirled her tongue along his head, she moved her hand up and down his shaft. Lando's eyes were shut as he moaned and tugged on her hair. Clearly, he was enjoying it. "Fuck, Y/N," he cried, the muscles in his neck straining.

She pulled off of him. "Your turn?" Offered Lando, but she shook her head as she ran to his bedside table.

"If your not inside of me in the next thirty seconds we will be having problems," she said as she pulled out a condom and immediately tore the packaging.

They'd gotten good at putting on Condoms since they moved in together. No longer did they have that awkward struggle of working out which way was the right way. She kneeled in front of him again as she rolled it onto his dick, stood up and jumped on the bed, spread eagle.

Someone was eager, that much was clear.

Lando grinned as he got out of his gaming chair. He pushed his boxers to his feet and stepped out of them. "Hurry up, Lan," she whined.

Lando pulled off her panties. He climbed on top of her and leaned down to kiss her. She could wait if it meant a moment of intimacy. She accepted though, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close as to not let him again away. "Fuck, I've missed you," she whispered, her eyes shut.

Lando pulled away. He held himself as he pushed forward, gently pushing through her folds. Somehow it felt like the first time all over again. She arched her back as he continued to push forward, until he was fully sheathed inside of her.

"Fuck me," she whispered, unable to hold herself back.

Even when inside of her, Lando was still a cocky little shit. "I'm trying," he muttered through a grin as he snapped his hips forward.

As if on instinct, she wrapped her legs around him, hands on his shoulders as he fucked her. Lando had his hands on either side of her head, looming over her as he moved. His breaths were coming out in short puffs, a sheen of sweat appearing on his skin.

There was no better sight than Lando above her, she decided. If she died now, she'd die happy, the image of Lando thrusting into her forever burned into her memory.

Lando used his strong arm to prop himself up on one hand. The other travelled down, touching her body. His fingertips against her stomach had her gasping, but they kept travelling down, until they were nestled between her folds, touching her clit.

It was quite a skill he had, to fuck her like that while he was touching her. It had her moaning and writhing, oh so close to the edge. "Please, please, please," she cried over and over again as Lando grew faster.

Her walls were clenching around him, squeezing him in a delicious way. He felt her let go, maybe before she did. She cried out once more, her body tensing up, her nails raking down his back, leaving red marks as she came.

Lando kept going. Her nails against his back stung, but he loved it. He'd wear those marks forever, if he could.

Lando's thrusts grew sloppy. His grunts grew louder until he finally stopped, spilling his seed inside of the condom.

Swiftly he pulled out and disposed of it, throwing it away in the bin in his bedroom. Breathlessly, Y/N sat up, propped up by her elbows. "Holy fucking shit, Lando Norris. That was..."

"I'd missed you too," Lando answered as he sat on the end of the bed. He went to say something else, but he hesitated. Y/N didn't notice, though, too distracted by the marks she had left on his back. "Do... do you wanna take a bath with me?" He asked.

Still dressed in nothing, the two of them walked to the bathroom. Lando kept his arm around her as he did so. He sat her on top of the closed toilet lid and set about running the bath water. "You know, if you threw in a necklace, you'd look so fucking hot, Lan," she mumbled, leaning her head against the wall.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @hollie911 @hiireadstuff @annispamz @carlossainzwho @spideybv28 @wherethefuckisthething @fangirl125reader @minkyungseokie @marialovesf1 @kitixie @i-wish-this-was-me @bborra @formula1mount @charlotte1697 @formulaal @eviethetheatrefreak @lordpercivalcharles @venisvendetta @marie0v @tbsloneely @laur20a23 @formulas-bitch @cmleitora @marvelavengers000 @gills-lounge @andydrysdalerogers @demipatterns @holy-macncheese-balls @jule239 @aexitizen-ln4 @landosgirlxoxo @allinestarr @starmanv @st0rmzi3 @random-human02 @nocoolusernamesavailable-blog @happymeal777 @ashy-kit @juniper-july19 @im-an-overthinker @haylenxx @kapsylia @prettiest-at-the-party @urfavnoirette @norassimpingzone @thehufflepuffavenger1 @taintet @amorydsmt @hi00000234567 @iamkaku @maxv33rstappen @noneofyourfbusinessworld @thatsusbitch @izzy-marvel @carqueensworld

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader smut #lando norris x you #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader

688 notes · View notes

cressidagrey · 4 months ago

Text

The Ties that Bind - Chapter 1

Summary:

Shadowsingers were made, not born. Made out of trauma and loneliness and desperation.

So when Cilla and Azriel meet and their shadows entwine, they both meet the only other person that could understand these particular childhood scars.

The last thing Azriel had ever expected from his mate, however, was for her to have a surprising connection to his brother.

Warnings:

My usual amount of Rhys bashing, Low Self Esteem, Mention of child abuse, Azriel threatens to unalive somebody

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

There weren’t many Illyrians in Velaris. And even less Illyrians who clearly had no clue how flying worked.

Azriel watched the spectacle from a safe distance away.

He didn’t really have a choice about that after all.

Not if he wanted to enjoy a cup of tea out on his porch. The porch of that little comfortable lake cabin right in the mountains of Velaris.

He had settled in for a Sunday afternoon with nothing to do for once. No pressing issues, no intelligence to sort through that couldn’t wait for a while…just him and his thoughts…and her .

It was a young female, probably just on the cusp between girlhood and growing into an adult, with the lankiness of her limbs not yet fully subsided.

Azriel did give her credit for being smart enough to find herself one of the mountain lakes in the mountains of Velaris…which had been a brilliant thing to do because every time she threw herself off one of the cliffs on the other side of the lake, she plummeted right into that icy water, wings trying and failing horribly to keep her adrift.

It was probably less smart to do this right now, however, when winter was just around the corner. Nobody was stupid enough to go swimming now…not if they didn’t want to turn into an icicle.

Still, every time without fail, she somehow managed to drag herself back out of the water, to dry land and up the cliffs to do it again. Azriel could respect that kind of single-minded determination.

It reminded him of himself…of his own first few attempts at flying…after he had gotten out of that cauldron-forsaken cell.

He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to this girl…what had happened to her that made her learn to fly now , when that was something that should have happened years ago…something that should have been natural to her…

She could extend her wings fully, so he didn’t think that she had been clipped…though maybe somebody had done a truly horrible hack job at it and that explained why her wings didn’t seem to hold her body weight…How did an Illyrian female end up in Velaris in the first place?

Question over questions and he didn’t know the answers to it.

It was peculiar…And it was making him sit up straight, watching her clamber up that cliff again, the grey dress she wore soaked with water and clinging to her figure.

What had brought her here? Was this a…He didn’t think that she knew that he was there and watching her…He had warded this house with everything he had, had thrown every fucking glamour at it that he could, making it impossible to be seen if somebody didn’t know that it existed…and not many people knew that it existed in the first place.

It had become his…little escape. Far away from the House of Wind or the River House…far enough that nobody would search for him here, but near enough that…well.

If they needed him, Azriel was just around the corner.

And he could get some sleep in the silence of the mountains surrounding him.

Cassian and Nesta were never going to manage to be quiet. And quite frankly, that was a very particular kind of torture after last Winter Solstice.

His High Lord had made himself very clear…and Azriel…well, that stubbornness that had meant that he had clung to Mor for 500 years…he couldn’t manage the same anymore.

The very heart of him was exhausted. Exhausted from always, always not being the one chosen. Exhausted from never seemingly being good enough, never measuring up.

So silently, quietly, Azriel had let it go. Let go of wishful dreams and stolen touches…Let go of that particular wish.

He would never have a mate. He would never have a wife. He would just exist in his loneliness.

It was better for everybody involved.

Regardless of how envy burned deep in his chest…regardless of jealousy, regardless of what he wanted . Azriel should have figured out centuries ago that he never got what he wanted anyway.

So why hope anymore?

Why hope and have that hope dashed and have his heart broken again? And again and again and again?

Why not simply accept it? Why not try to make the best out of it?

If he would end up alone, he could do it on his terms. Thus, that charming lake cabin with only one room he actually used.

He liked it. Scratch that. Azriel loved it.

Loved the quietness, loved how roomy and bright it was, the perfect antithesis to all of the years spent in that cell.

And if he made this his home… his home …well, only he needed to be content here.

His home.

Nobody else needed to like it. Just him. His and his alone. The perfect place to be lonely all on his own.

Master! His shadows snapped at that moment and he startled. She hasn’t come up yet.

What? he demanded, his gaze immediately snapping up to the lake.

No trace of her anyway.

She jumped and hit her head.

Why didn’t you fucking say something? he demanded harshly. Great. Now he needed to rescue her.

Definitely not how he wanted to spend his Sunday afternoon doing.

She must have managed to catch an updraft, because he didn’t need to pull her from the depths of that lake. Though maybe that would have been better…It would have left her with fewer scrapes.

Instead, she had landed in a heap in the shallows of the lake, water just knee high and Azriel hissed at the ice-cold water lapping against his skin as he gathered her up.

She was unconscious, her skin pale and ice-cold to the touch. Nearly frozen solid.

He pulled her into his arms, lifting her up and carrying her the few feet to dry ground, a hand immediately finding her pulse point.

He looked at her face, at the black hair and skin that was pale and clammy and…

Oh.

His. His .

There she was.

After 500 years, there she was.

He touched her with shaking hands, with reverence. Cupping her cheek, feeling her rattling breath against his scarred hands, turning her to her side as she started coughing.

Still unconscious…a wound on her forehead bleeding nearly sluggishly.

The water she had inhaled came back up and he made sure that she didn’t swallow it back down nearly automatically, unable not to stare at her.

His…His mate?

His mate.

Just a slip of a female, small and delicate, cheekbones and clavicles standing out sharply. She could use some more fat on her, to be completely honest. She looked… emaciated , not just simply thin. Starved .

And if her body hadn’t been the first clue…her wings were the second. He stared at the scars that crisscrossed where they protruded from her back…He knew scars like that. He himself had scars like that. Her wings had been bound to her back so tightly that whatever rope had been used had rubbed at the delicate skin covering the bones…rubbing it raw.

He swallowed at that realisation, the fury in his chest bursting wide open. It wasn’t the only scar on these wings…there were more. No wonder she had difficulty flying. It was so bad that he wondered if she would ever be able to fly at all.

Who had done this to her?

If he ever found out, he would plunge Truthteller into their chest and make them regret ever having been born.

His mate coughed again, sounding miserable. “You’ll be fine,” Azriel promised her fiercely. If he had a single thing to say about it…she would be fine. He would make sure that she would be fine. She was his now.

His mate.

The one person that he was allowed to care for…the one person he could pour all that attention and love onto that he normally held so tightly buried in his chest. His mate .

She was his and he was going to make sure that she was treated properly now.

“Come on, Sweetheart, we’ll get you warm and dry,” Azriel promised her, picking her up again. She weighed next to nothing to him as he cradled her into his arms and made his way back to his cabin.

Warm and dry and he would do something against the wound on her head and the scrapes on the rest of her. He couldn’t do anything against how thin she was, but he could probably manage to scrounge up some soup or something… Anything and everything so that she would be fine. His mate.

His .

Azriel reached his cabin seconds later, putting her down next to the mattress he used as a bed.

He really should have invested in some fucking furniture, but with a regrettable lapse of judgment he hadn’t.

He hadn’t because just for him, he hadn’t seen a need for it other than the necessities. A mattress was more than enough, no reason for a bed frame. No reason to put that mattress in an actual bedroom, if one corner of his living room and kitchen would work just as well.

Well, he could change that. He would change that. His mate deserved a bed, and a proper closet and everything else her heart desired.

He would make sure she would want for nothing.

Get her out of her dress and underneath the blankets, he told the shadow sharply, who for once seemed to be silent in pure shock.

He wasn’t going to touch her anywhere. Not like this. Not more than absolutely necessary.

Instead, he got himself dry, a pot of water boiling on the stove, all the vegetables he had stocked in the cooling cabinet and the chicken he had bought to roast thrown in right along with it.

Then Azriel raided his stock of healing supplies, bringing them to her bedside.

Now, safely dressed in an old dry shirt of his and tucked under every blanket his shadows could find in the house, her skin was still cold but no longer icy. Thawing.

He dabbed at the wound on her forehand and wrapped the scrapes that covered her hands…hands that were blistering and covered with a rash. Hands that were definitely used to harsh physical work.

These weren’t the hands of a lady. These were the hands of somebody that worked for a living.

Azriel tucked her hands under the blankets with the rest of her, and gently tucked a straw curl back behind her ear…and then came up short when he realised that…that her ear…it was pointed . Not the usual rounded ear of a pure-blood Illyrian. Pointed like a High Fae.

Oh .

She must be half Illyrian, half High Fae.

Exceedingly Rare… but not impossible. Rhys was the proof of that.

Master! He startled a second time, glaring at his shadows. Why did they keep startling them? And why were they screaming at him in pure excitement?

Only then, he saw the tendril of shadows. Hesitantly twirling out from her hair.

Not one of his. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he knew.

This wasn’t one of his shadows, this wasn’t…

Oh.

Was she…

Are they… hers? he asked, nearly hesitantly. Was she…just like him? A shadowsinger ?

He had never gotten to meet another one. He had never…There had never been anybody that had explained to him how they worked, how he could master them…all of it…he had learnt through hard work and determination and not often the feeling that he was truly going insane.

He had never thought that he would get to meet another shadowsinger ever. He had thought that maybe it was just a quirk of fate that also in this one ability, he would be unique, removed from everybody around him…Given that was how he felt any day of the week.

Yes, they are, his shadows answered excitedly, a few tendrils of his slowly approaching hers…that seemingly wilted away, hesitantly. He wanted to reach out and cradle them in his hands…make sure that her shadows and his mate understood that no harm would come to her from him.

How high were the chances that his mate, the one the mother picked for him, would be a shadowsinger just like him?

He swallowed.

Ask them for her name? he requested from his shadow hesitantly, wondering if they were able to communicate with hers…if he could talk to her shadows…if she could talk to his…

Cilla, the shadows answered after a moment. Cilla . Her name was Cilla.

Then very quietly: They are begging you not to hurt her.

Somebody thrust a knife into his heart and twisted.

Of course, they would ask that. Of course.

They didn’t trust him at all. Why should they?

She wouldn’t be a shadowsinger if she hadn’t spent years feeling so alone that the shadows started talking back to her. Why should she trust him?

I am not going to hurt her. I swear that to them on my life, he promised fiercely. He would not hurt her. Never.

She was his mate .

He would spend the next few centuries trying desperately to make sure that he was worthy of her, nothing else. He was not going to hurt her. Not if he had any choice in that matter.

His mate. His mate . He was going to take care of her, even when it was the last thing he did.

Nobody was ever going to hurt her again, not if Azriel had a single thing to say about it.

He was going to draw his line into the sand just like Enalius had down all these millennia before him at the Pass. And whoever would cross it, they would rue that day.

It was easy enough to tug harshly at the dormant thread Rhys had long ago left in his mind…easy enough to let his brother into the ante-chamber of his mind once he had his attention.

I won’t be available next week.

Are you asking me for a vacation, Az? Rhys asked with some amusement. No. He wasn’t asking.

He was going to take the next week and get to know his mate and nobody was going to stop him. Unless she told him no.

It’s not a request. This is me informing you that I won’t be available, Azriel gave back, his voice even.

He could nearly hear Rhys’ mental sigh. Is this still about you and Elain? Rhys asked him, long sufferingly.

There is no me and Elain, Rhysand, Azriel shot back. Rhys had taken care of that. Though he probably did owe his High Lord a bottle of some ridiculous expensive alcoholic beverage for that. No Elain, which meant he was free to conduct his love life however he saw fit. Which meant that if Cilla was willing to give him a chance…

Then what it is about? Rhys asked him.

Azriel could tell the truth. But he had absolutely no fucking want to do that. Rhys had made himself very clear last Winter Solstice. And Azriel didn’t want anybody to meddle. Cilla was his mate and nobody else’s and the only thing that mattered was what she wanted. Not what anybody else thought about her or their Mating Bond or anything else.

I have some things to take care of that need my undivided attention, he said, his voice hard. Making it very obvious that Azriel wasn’t interested in answering any questions about it.

And you couldn’t tell me that weeks ago?

No.

Fine.

It’s not like it would have mattered to him if Rhysand had disagreed. Azriel was still not going to come in next week.

It wasn’t like took many days off in the last few centuries. He was probably long overdue for a vacation.

A soft noise pulled him away from that particular line of thinking and he looked down at Cilla, her nose scrunched up, shifting slightly.

“It’s alright,” he promised her, keeping his voice calm and easy. “Can you open your eyes for me, Cilla?” he asked and one eye blinked open…showing him a pair of dark brown pupils.

“There you go,” he praised her, “Good, Sweetheart.”

For one moment she looked at him utterly petrified, not understanding at all what was going on. Just a second later, he felt her fear and terror pour all over the fledgling Mating Bond, that must have just snapped for her.

One hand flayed out and one of his shadows caught it, her eyes jumping from him to the shadows and then back again. He watched as she seemingly tried to work through it, one of her shadows gently caressing her cheek, clearly calming her down.

“You…You’re just like me,” she whispered, her voice rough from disuse, wings twitching with something.

“I am,” he agreed softly.

And then, he saw the shadow curl behind her ear, whispering something in her ear. And then: “Mate?” she whispered, staring at him, her eyes wide, the expression on her face wanting and desperate and a thousand other things.

His mouth went dry. He managed a nod.

And then to his surprise, she pounced. There was nothing graceful about it as she clung to him, nearly slapping her with one of her wings, as he pulled her against his chest.

“I am your mate,” he agreed with a weak chuckle.

Hers.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #the ties that bind

385 notes · View notes

munson-blurbs · 1 year ago

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

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

Summary: You and Eddie face a familiar nemesis at a Teacher Appreciation luncheon, but the rewards that come with your strengthened relationship are far sweeter.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), semi-public sex, oral (f! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), choking, spanking, praise kink, orgasm denial, breeding kink, creampie, Carol Perkins makes an appearance

WC: 9.6k

Chapter 18/20

Divider credit to @saradika Eddie pic credit to @eddiemunsonsmum

Out to lunch

Be back soon

That’s the message hastily scribbled onto the sheet of staff paper Scotch taped just above Rock Records’ hours of operation. Innocuous enough; a sign that has been posted on many a small town storefront. But if anyone is listening closely, they’ll hear Guns ‘N Roses still playing over the tinny sound system—not to mention the moans drifting from Eddie’s managerial office.

Eddie has you laid back on the desk, your legs hooked over his shoulders. His fingers grab onto your thighs with such ferocity that his rings threaten to leave indents on your supple skin. He’s on his knees, a man possessed as his tongue glides over your clit.

“F-Fuck, Eddie! Right there!”

You can feel him grinning against you, obviously pleased to be catapulting you into this blissful spiral. He tugs you just a bit closer, the subtle movements of his jaw apparent as he laps at your pussy. His own noises nearly drown out yours; the way he devours you has him smacking his lips together greedily. You’re a feast, and he doesn’t intend to leave a single crumb behind.

Your legs tremble and your toes curl, back arching to create a small gap between you and the table. Somehow, you manage to sit up just enough to reach out and lace your fingers through the strands of hair that have escaped his ponytail.

He’s acutely aware that you’re watching him, though he doesn’t see your awestruck expression as you take in the sight before you. A sheen of slick and saliva coat his chin, evidence that his efforts are far from futile.

He’s so beautiful between your legs, worshiping your pussy like it’s a deity, leaving nothing untouched. His cock strains against his fly as it seeks the warmth of being inside you.

“I’m close, baby, s-so close!”

He knows he should stop now, forcing you to beg him to let you finish, but he simply can’t deny you. Maybe some of it is selfish; making his girl come is just as satisfying as his own orgasm. The way you chant his name, body shaking as unbridled ecstasy takes over.

Your free hand swoops across the table, knocking to the ground a small stack of papers and a paperclip box. Everything scatters along the carpeted floor. “Sh-shit, ‘m sorry—”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Eddie growls, two thick fingers gliding in your wet sex as he speaks. “Don’t you dare do anything but come for me.”

That shuts you up, save for the wanton moans you exhale as the coil in your belly snaps and relief floods your body.

You barely have time to catch your breath before Eddie is pulling you and bending you over his desk. Your elbows hit the table, but you’re still floating too high to brace yourself for pain. The soft clink of his belt buckle coming undone and his zipper teeth opening have you clenching around nothing.

He hikes your skirt up even higher—your lace panties already snug in his back pocket—and taps the head of his length on your ass. You’re so wet that you’re glistening, and he grabs the Trojan from his wallet before rolling it over himself and pushing into you.

“Thassit, mmm, fuck,” he grunts, filling you fully until he bottoms out. “You knew what you were doing when you came here, didn’t you?” One arm wraps around your waist as he thrusts up into you. “Pretending like you just wanted to visit. Yeah, right.”

You grin victoriously. Eddie didn’t normally work on Sundays, but when he picked up a last-minute shift for a sick co-worker, you had to jump at the opportunity.

His pace intensifies as your body brings him to his own release. If you were at either of your places, he would still be eating you out, not stopping until he had you in tears. He wouldn’t even care if stickiness pooled in his boxers, but he has no spare pants to change into, and he certainly can’t get caught with cum-stained pants while on the clock.

His hips piston a bit faster, hand dropping so his middle finger can readily find your clit. As soon as you whimper, already overstimulated all the fullness within you, he’s a goner. You can feel his heart racing when his chest presses to your spine, even through your respective shirts.

“‘M right there, oh, fuck,” Eddie hisses, teeth gritted in concentration. He throws his head back and grabs a handful of your bare ass, smacking it for good measure.“So good, so fuckin’ good f’me.” Every syllable is punctuated with another snap of his pelvis. The heart pendant hanging from your necklace bounces against your chest with each movement. “‘M coming, coming all f’you, take it, baby.” He spills into the condom with a satisfied groan, the force of his final thrusts sending you over the edge.

His plush lips leave tender kisses along the side of your neck, delaying his inevitable withdrawal. “That was…holy shit,” he breathes with a kind laugh. You wince as he pulls out of you, already far too empty for your liking. Nimble fingers knot the used latex, dropping it into the wire trashcan beside the desk.

“Y’okay?” Eddie asks when he notices your silence. Worry creases his brows. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” His gaze drops to the flesh he’d just spanked, gently running his palm over it in an attempt to soothe. “I might’ve gotten carried away—”

“‘M good,” you reassure him, having finally found your voice. You giggle as he breathes an audible sigh of relief. “I like when you’re a little rough with me,” you admit, heat creeping up the back of your neck.

Eddie cocks his head. “Yeah?” He fixes your skirt, ensuring that everything is covered, before tucking himself back into his jeans.

“Yeah.” There’s a shy smile on your face as you turn and face him, leaning in so your mouths can meld together. His hands cup your cheeks as he deepens the kiss, tongue tentatively nudging yours as though asking permission. You eagerly allow him in, one finger hooked on his belt loop.

Even when he’s playing a dominant role, withholding your pleasure until he sees fit, it’s no less intimate than when you make sweet, sensitive love. Relinquishing autonomy carves out a path for security and respect, two facets that Eddie takes to heart. He’s learned to read your body like a map, knowing exactly where to touch you—and where not to touch you—and how to bring you to your tipping point.

“How am I supposed to continue my shift after that?” he asks, still remaining close enough that the slightly chapped skin of his lips scratch yours. The two of you exchange breaths, utterly intoxicated on each other. “Gonna be thinking about my perfect girl the rest of the day.” His teeth gently nip at you when he speaks. “This beautiful face…beautiful hands…” He drops to his knees and pulls your waist closer to him, hands strong on the small of your back. “Beautiful stomach…beautiful legs…”

You laugh, fully and heartily, unable to take your eyes off of the man paying reverence to your body. “Eddie, get up,” you chastise teasingly, stumbling a little as he clings to you harder. “And give me back my panties.”

Eddie pouts, lower lip jutting out in anticipated protest. “But–”

“I have to go grocery shopping,” you tell him, trying to reach into his back pocket to grab at the lacy fabric sticking out, but he shifts away too quickly. “You want me walking around Bradley’s all exposed?”

A mischievous grin spreads across Eddie’s face, activating the dimples in his cheeks. “Well…”

You cross your arms over your chest, snug underneath your breasts. “Really? What if I have to bend down to get, I dunno, peanut butter? And then some random guy–or maybe someone we know, like Jason Carver–” your nose wrinkles, disgusted at the mere mention of his name, “what if he gets a glimpse of–”

“Okay, okay, you win.” Eddie huffs, standing up as he tosses it over. You triumphantly slide them back up your legs, feeling your cooled slick from earlier in the afternoon against your core. “But only because I don’t want anyone else seeing what I get to see.” He delicately bites your earlobe, well aware that if he continues down this path, he’ll be hard again.

You shiver at his subtle possessiveness, fighting the temptation to undress him and beg for him to be inside you again. The desire is so overpowering that you almost forget the second reason you’d stopped by the store this afternoon.

“Eds? Could I ask you for a favor?”

“Shit, baby,” he laughs, snaking a hand up your shirt as he sucks on your neck, “I’d give you a fuckin’ kidney right now if that’s what you wanted.”

“‘M serious,” you press, hoping his doesn’t notice the way your voice catches in your throat. His thumbs center on your bra cups, caressing the underwire and letting his fingers slip underneath. “Th-There’s this teacher appreciation luncheon that the PTA is hosting, and we can bring a date.”

The unspoken remainder of your question bears a hefty implication: a public confirmation of a relationship previously only fueled by the small-town rumor mill.

Eddie is unfazed by your hesitance, enchanted by the soft skin below his calloused palm. He’s determined to memorize it, each dip and curve and the way you fit perfectly in his hands. “When is it?” His breath tickles your exposed neck. He doesn’t wait for a response before adding, “I just have to ask Wayne to watch Harris.”

“Saturday. A-A week from yesterday.” You swallow your nerves, wondering if he’s going to pick up on the reason behind your anxiety. If he’ll feel it, too. “But there’ll probably be some parent volunteers there, and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” You grimace at the thought of him walking into the room, shell-shocked when he sees their unwelcome sneers. “They need a final headcount tomorrow,” you don’t add that the invitation had been sent earlier last week, and you’d been putting off asking until the last possible minute, “but if you can’t, or you don’t want to–”

He interrupts your rambling with a kiss, sloppy in its urgency. “I don’t care if Mrs. O’Donnell herself shows up. I want to go.”

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says with a dismissive wave. “The point is, I’d love to be your date. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he grins, conspicuously adjusting himself over his pants, “one of us has to work.”

You swat at his backside, hitching your purse over your shoulder and smoothing down your skirt again. “Need anything from the store?”

It’s an innocuous question; you’ll just add whatever he says to the list you’ve scribbled on a piece of scrap paper, safely tucked away in your bag. To Eddie, it’s enough to tug on the corners of his lips, which he tries to hide by scratching at the shadow of stubble on his cheeks. It creates an image of the two of you sharing a home, Harris sitting at the kitchen table with a bowlful of cereal, as you prepare to do the family shopping. Or maybe the three of you would go together, Harris helping push the cart while scouring the shelves for whatever sugar-laden junk food he’s obsessed with that week. Later, Eddie would lean over to grab a bag of apples from the produce department, hand gently brushing along your back as he does it. He doesn’t care who sees; hell, he hopes everyone notices the way you allow him to touch you so casually. No shame, no pretending. You might even intertwine your fingers with his, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles, claiming him in your own way.

“Nah, baby, ‘m good,” he tells you, chuckling when you shoot him a knowing look. “Fine, Harris could use some more mac and cheese. Whatever’s on sale.”

You make a mental note to pick up a few boxes, lips gingerly kissing Eddie’s nose like a butterfly perched on a daisy.

Eddie watches the sway of your hips as you leave his office, fingertips pressing into his desk as he wracks his brain to determine how he’s managed to conjure up the luck to be with you. He’d always assumed that he’d never find someone who understood his unconventional experiences, who recognized the puzzle of emotions that accompanied those memories.

He hadn’t considered the prospect of meeting you: a person who not only saw his brokenness, but the whole parts of him, too. A man who loved his son with a fierceness that envied a mother bear’s, whose passion for music kept him afloat during the most trying years of his life, who couldn’t quite turn his back on his dreams despite the entire world seemingly persuading him to do so. You saw the good and the bad and loved him for all of it.

He certainly never thought about what it would feel like to love wholly. He recalls the fateful night in the emergency room, when he began to realize the lengths you went to for the people you cared about. The time he’d burst into your classroom after the conference with Ms. Marion, and despite his previous pattern of behavior, you’d comforted him and offered to spend your free time tutoring Harris. Even the gig when he saw you for the very first time and let his lust lead the way, fate had the last laugh when you fell asleep in his arms like you were made to fit there.

And then there are the less-than-ideal parts of you. The way you keep your feelings bottled up until they boil over in a flood of emotions that Eddie is still learning to sort out. The way you forget to take care of yourself in favor of looking after others. The way you believe you are simultaneously too much and not enough, allowing your insecurities to stampede over any and all logic.

It’s what makes you human, what makes you you. And Eddie loves you even more for letting him see that side of you.

If loving someone fully–and being loved fully–means confirming the gossip about the teacher and the freak, he’ll do it one hundred times over for you.

Your phone rings mere minutes after you finish packing away the groceries. Food shopping on Sundays is always the worst; stores are overcrowded, filled with parents and children losing their patience, and you’re fairly certain that you spent more time waiting in line to pay than you did actually perusing the aisle. You pluck the ripest banana from the bunch and peel it as you cradle the receiver between your cheek and shoulder. “Hello?”

“Hi, baby.” Eddie’s voice is honey-dipped on the other end of the line.

“Hey, Eds.” You lean up against the wall, body already feeling lighter. “You and Harris’ll be glad to know that I have secured the macaroni and cheese.”

There’s a sound of movement from his side, and you hear him say, “Har Bear, Ms. Sweetheart got your mac and ch–hey, give me that–”

“Ms. Sweetheart!” Harris bellows, and you instinctively move the phone from your ear at the sudden noise. “When are you gonna come to my house and play?”

You laugh, struck by his enthusiasm. “Soon. I promise,” you tell him, meaning every word. Your heart swells at the thought of you, Harris, and Eddie working together to construct a Lego building, both Munsons deep in concentration with their tongues poking from their mouths. “Can you put your dad back on the phone?”

“Okay!” he chirps. “Bye! Love you!”

“Love you, too, Har.” You’re fairly certain that he’s already dashed out of the room, never one to sit still for long, but it occurs to you that he doesn’t even need to hear you say it back. He just knows that you love him in the way that you keep a smile on your face as you gently help him sound out new words, or chase him around the playground until you’re both winded from giggling and running, or share in his excitement at any accomplishment.

Eddie clears his throat when he gets on the line. “So, uh, I forgot to ask–what am I wearing to this luncheon thing?” He’s praying that it’s nothing too upscale; new clothes are not exactly within his budget right now.

To his relief, you say with a teasing lilt in your tone, “A button-down shirt and some jeans without holes in them, if possible.” You take a small bite of fruit, chewing as you speak. “Sneakers should be fine.”

“I can manage that,” he laughs. He doesn’t want to end the conversation yet, so he chooses to ask the first question that comes to mind. “Whatcha eating?”

“Banana.”

“Shit.” He clutches the phone cord in his hand, nearly yanking it out of the jack. A long exhale shoots static through the receiver. “Don’t do this to me.”

It takes a moment for you to figure out what this is. “Eddie Munson,” you start, not even trying to mask your amusement, “are you getting turned on because I’m eating a banana?”

“And now you’re making fun of me? In my hour of need?” He tuts softly, making you laugh even harder. “Evil, evil woman.”

“That’s me. I’m just the worst.” You take another bite to knowingly torture him.

“The absolute worst.” Eddie amends. He tucks his thumbnail between his teeth., incisor digging into the exposed crescent moon. His joking intonation makes way for authenticity as he says, “I love you, babe.”

“I love you, too.” Your voice is small but strong, so assured in your declaration to him. “See you tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll bring the coffee.”

The buzzer rings promptly at noon on Saturday, just as you’re swiping on a final coat of lipstick. You take a look in the mirror, giving a quick twirl as your green lapel floral button-up dress flows out around you and recentering the heart pendant on your necklace.

Your Mary Jane Doc Martens are loud on the floor as you shuffle to let Eddie in. There’s no denying the way your stomach flip-flops with excited anticipation. You’ve seen him dressed up before: at Grandma’s funeral, on your Valentine’s Day date, but the sight never gets old.

He’s standing in the doorway, looking every bit as delicious as you’d imagined. His maroon button-down is neatly tucked into black jeans, cuffs rolled to his elbows and showing off his myriad forearm tattoos. He’s freshly shaved, and you can see a tiny red speck where he’d accidentally nicked himself with the blunted razor this morning.

“What d’you think?” he asks, spinning around in a way that’s almost identical to the 360-degree view you’d gotten of yourself. “Harris said I look too fancy, but I didn’t have time to change, so…”

You shake your head. “You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen,” you tell him truthfully, arms wrapping around his waist as you pull him in for a much-needed kiss. “There’s just one thing.” You tug at the rubber band that encases his curls in a low ponytail until it slides onto your wrist, setting his hair free. “There we go.”

Eddie frowns, haphazardly smoothing down the hair that’s already beginning to frizz despite the mountains of product he’d applied in a futile attempt to tame it. “Y’sure?”

“Positive. You look more…” You consider your words carefully, “…more like you with your hair all wild like that.”

“That’s a good thing?” He cocks his head in disbelief, and you can’t help but kiss him again. This time, you let your tongue explore him as your fingers twist into the cotton blend of his shirt. His hands start on your cheeks, then gradually work their way down to your ass. A sudden grab of the supple flesh has you yelping slightly, muffled by his mouth on yours. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says with a laugh, the tip of his nose nudging against your earlobe. “You are absolutely gorgeous,” he murmurs, inhaling the floral scent of the perfume you’d meticulously sprayed on your pulse points.

A familiar need builds at the apex of your thighs, and if your suspicions are correct, Eddie feels it, too. The temptation to undo every last one of his shirt buttons is strong, sexual tension so thick you could cut it with a blade.

Surprisingly, it’s Eddie who breaks away, though it takes every ounce of willpower to do so. “C’mon, let’s get going,” he whispers, chuckling when you pout in defiance. There’s a twinkle in his eyes that you’ve come to learn means he has something up his sleeve. “Don’t worry, babe; when we come back, I plan on showing you a little teacher appreciation of my own.”

The tantalizing scent of Italian food permeates Hawkins Preschool’s cafeteria, replacing the usual smell of freezer-burned chicken nuggets and fries. Green and gold cloths cover the tables, with the buffet from Enzo’s at the front of the room, a small crowd having already gathered to grab some food.

You spot Will immediately; he waves you over to a table in the corner. Marshall is seated next to him, offering an enthusiastic smile as you set your purse down on the bench.

“Go get something to eat,” Will tells you and Eddie, motioning to the spread. “We can watch your stuff.”

Eddie needs no further convincing; Enzo’s has been considered a delicacy for the Munsons since it first opened. He can probably count the number of times he’s eaten there on one hand. You watch as he eyes the options, silently calculating how much he can fit on his paper plate.

“Food from this cafeteria never looks so good,” you joke softly, so only his ears can hear. “Wanna take a little of everything? And we can split it?

Eddie nods, picking up a serving spoon and digging clumsily into the tray of lasagna. Marinara sauce oozes over the sides of the oversized utensil as he scoops out a hearty serving. The piece lands on his plate with a plop, and you take a step back to avoid it splattering on your dress. He apologizes quietly, but you just smile and pick up a napkin, dabbing at the stain forming on his shirt collar.

“Haven’t even been here five minutes and I’m already making a mess,” he grumbles, using the tongs to snag some chicken parmesan, much more deliberate in his actions.

You click your tongue in mock disapproval. “I really can’t take you anywhere, huh?” You fish out a meatball, sopping with sauce, from another foil tray before serving a generous portion of the house salad. “Don’t worry, I’ll eat the olives,” you tease, flicking some dressing over the pile of greens.

Eddie uses the hand not balancing his plate to grab two knives, two forks, and a fistful of napkins. “Shit,” he mutters, glancing at the bottles of Poland Spring nestled at the end of the table, “we need drinks.”

It takes a minute for you to mentally assess the situation before you figure out a plan. “Give me that,” you point to his plate, crooking your finger and motioning towards yourself until he hands it to you. “Now you can get the water.” Your conscience tugs at you, aware that this goes beyond beverages and some spilled sauce. “Hey,” you say softly. If you weren’t holding two full plates, you would rest your palm on his bicep and give it a squeeze. “It’s just you and me, okay? Everyone else is background noise.”

“Yeah,” Eddie smiles tightly, wedging the two bottles between his elbow and his ribs. Background noise is the perfect description, considering that you’re the melody that plays on a loop in his brain, yet he never gets tired of hearing it. His internal song had been entirely composed of bass notes, and you’re a treble clef.

The two of you sit down next to Will and Marshall, who waste no time making conversation.

“So, Eddie,” Marshall starts, twirling spaghetti around his fork, “I know these two wrangle kids all day; what do you do for a living?”

“I manage Rock Records, over on Porter,” Eddie says, chest swelling with pride. Selling for Rick required him to pretend like he was unemployed or ‘between jobs,’ often earning him judgmental side-eyes. Now, he can answer honestly and without shame. “What about you?”

Marshall chews and swallows before answering. “I’m in sales at Bell Atlantic, but, uh,” he reaches over and takes Will’s hand, “I’m thinking about moving to Hawkins, so I’ll have to find something new, unless I want to commute to Indy every day.”

You lean over the table to wrap Will in a hug. “Congratulations!” you exclaim, eyes bright with excitement. “I’m so happy for you guys.”

“It’s not official yet,” Will clarifies, though he readily accepts your embrace, “but we can start the process once Marsh gets a job here.”

Eddie rubs his jaw thoughtfully, using the side of his fork to slice the meatball in half, then half again. “Sales?” he repeats, spearing a piece of food. “I think our sales department is hiring, actually. If you give me your resume, I can push it through.”

Both Marshall and Will light up at the idea, beaming from ear to ear. “That would be amazing!” Will chirps.

“Thanks, man,” Marshall says gratefully. You can see the gears turning in his head as he pictures his future with Will coming to fruition. “I’d really appreciate that.”

“‘Course.” Eddie swipes his tongue over the sauce in the corner of his mouth and smiles. “When you find someone who’s willing to stay in this town for you, you gotta hang on to them.” His fingers drape over yours, thumb grazing your bare ring finger. “Trust me.”

Your body warms at his touch, sunshine radiating through you from the inside. You want to remind him how absurdly easy he is to love, that you’d live anywhere as long as you could guarantee falling asleep in his arms each night. If you could bottle up the fuzzy feeling that you get every time he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, placing purposeful kisses along the nape, you would do it in a heartbeat.

A peal of cruel laughter hooks into you, unwillingly drawing your attention from the conversation to the woman standing off to the side. She speaks as though she’s trying to talk under her breath, but you know that you’re meant to hear her. “Told you, Steve: the teacher and the Freak,” she says with a smirk that you’re tempted to smack clean off of her face.

Your fingers clench around your fork so forcefully that it threatens to snap in half. The fact that anyone could be in their third decade of life and still build themselves up by cutting others down is absurd to you, perhaps because you spend most of your time teaching children the importance of intentional kindness.

Adrenaline surges through your veins in a classic battle of fight versus flight as you weigh your options. You could release the scream that you’ve trapped in your throat, throttling her with a barrage of hurtful words until she’s a sniveling mess. It’s too tempting, and you would have a difficult time talking yourself out of it if she wasn’t your student’s parent.

You could act like you hadn’t heard her, as improbable as that possibility is. It’s certainly the more mature decision, and one that would ensure your job security, but that just fuels the brewing anger with the knowledge that Carol would win whatever messed-up game she’s playing.

Eddie sits next to you, facing a similar silent dilemma. He could turn heel and run, storming off in a fit of fury, assuring himself that you’d be fine with Will and Marshall. He could shrink into himself until the moment passes and Carol moves onto a new target. He could leap on the table like he would have back in high school, make a scene and embarrass the hell out of everybody–but that would include you, and that’s the last thing he wants to do.

He can tell by the way your jaw goes rigid that you’re holding back, that you’re trying to remain professional. An involuntarily grin twitches on his lips as he thinks about you eschewing all maturity and absolutely laying into Carol. He knows you can’t do that, as much as you both want to.

But he can.

“So glad you could take a break from cheating on your husband to be here, Carol.” He keeps a bright, innocent smile glued to his face as he feigns enthusiasm. You have to bite your lower lip to stifle a cackle; out of the corner of your eye, you can see Will covering his mouth and nose to keep from spitting out the sip of Pepsi he’d just downed.

Carol’s face blanches, obviously not expecting Eddie’s retort. Steve Harrington wasn’t either, and the “ha!” that escapes him is evidence of it. When Carol shoots death glares at him, he just shrugs, raising his brows as if to say, if you can’t handle the heat, stay out of the kitchen.

With a muted string of swear words that none of you care to decipher, Carol huffs and stomps off. Steve glances for a moment, rolling his eyes at her theatrical display. “Sorry about…” he gestures vaguely at her sulking form as she whines to another parent unlucky enough to be in her warpath. “Anyway, um, my wife is at home with Josh, but we’re so grateful to both of you for everything you’ve done for him.” He gives a half smile, nodding at you and Will. “Not just with, like, school stuff, but teaching him how to play with other kids without it turning into a WWE Smackdown.” He sucks his lips to his teeth and shakes his head with a small laugh.

“That’s our job!” you chirp, maybe a bit too enthusiastically, still riding the high of watching Carol slink off, proverbial tail between her legs.

“Well, it means a lot,” Steve continues, pink tinging the apples of his cheeks as he confides, “especially because he’s going to have a little brother or sister in a few months. He was actually telling us how he’s excited to share his toys with the new baby. We thought Hell was freezing over.”

Pride swells up in Eddie's chest while he rubs your upper back; a small gesture with incalculable meaning. That’s my girl, he muses, eyes widening when you scoot into him so his arm drapes over your shoulder. You lace your fingers with his and pull them down so they graze your bicep as you continue talking with Steve, as natural as can be. No shying away, no denying the existence of the teacher and the Freak. You claim Eddie as yours, and a soft kiss to your temple claims you as his.

The conversation with Steve ends shortly after that, and you congratulate him again on the upcoming addition to the Harrington family. You, Eddie, Will, and Marshall decide to head out once you’ve finished eating.

“Thanks again, man,” Marshall says as he shakes Eddie’s hand. “I’ll swing by on Monday with my resume.”

“Don’t mention it.” Eddie claps him on the back. Truthfully, he’s just grateful to not be the person receiving help. The universe had granted him chance after chance; it’s about time he’s able to do something for someone else.

Will turns to you just as you all near the double doors, illuminated by fluorescent lighting and a bright red EXIT sign. “Did you bring home the rest of the progress reports?”

You throw your head back, blowing out a breath of frustration. “Shit, I totally forgot.” You rifle through your purse until you find the silver key that’s been shoved to the bottom and make an about-face towards your classroom. “You’re a lifesaver. I owe you big time.”

“Just give me a special mention in your Teacher of the Year speech,” he jokes, but you catch the sparkle of admiration in his eyes at your dedication—even if it follows a memory lapse.

Eddie trails right behind you as you unlock the door, dropping the key back in your bag for safekeeping. “Sorry, babe,” you apologize, “I just need to grab the papers and we can get out of here.”

“Take your time.” He plops down in the chair behind your desk, fingers thrumming along the oversized calendar you’ve marked up with various due dates and events. “I’ll stay out of trouble. Wouldn’t want to get…punished…or anything.” He looks up at you with a knowing smirk that droops into a frown when you ignore his entendré.

He swivels around when you move from the right side of your desk to your left, rummaging around for a clip to provide some semblance of organization. “I can be the teacher’s pet, y’know,” he continues, one fingernail lightly trailing up your arm. “I’m not opposed to doing whatever it takes to get an A.” Broad hands broach either side of your waist, but you pull away to pluck a Post-It from the stack and stick it atop the reports.

It’s when you lean over to grab a pen that the pent-up tension becomes too overwhelming for him; the way your ass is perfectly framed by your dress has him awestruck. Mine, mine, all mine, loops through his head as he tugs on your hips so you’re sitting on his lap.

“Don’t mind me.” His lips slowly kiss down your spine, busy fingers bunching your dress fabric up your thighs. “You keep doin’ what you gotta do, pretty girl.”

You exhale with a tired laugh. “The sooner I get this done, the sooner we can go home and you can show me some of that ‘teacher appreciation’ you promised.”

“Or,” Eddie counters, turning your chin so you can see the adorable pout he’s now sporting, “I could appreciate you right here.”

“Eddie!”

“Yeah, say my name,” he mumbles, half-teasing while still relishing in the way it sounds on your lips. “C’mon, can’t we just fool around a little bit?”

You swoop down to kiss him, tongue discreetly slipping into his mouth as your fingers curl into his hair. His hands roam your body, already fumbling with the column of buttons down your back. While he’s distracted, you break away and stand up, leaving him noticeably hard beneath his slacks. “Nope.”

He lets out an anguished groan, but ultimately relents so you can finish your work undistracted—save for the throbbing between your legs. With a hasty scribble of your Bic pen, you label the last of the reports and clutch the stack to your chest.

“We can go now,” you tell him, and he’s standing up and practically running out the door before you can finish speaking.

Your back is turned to him while you lock up, but you can still hear him skid to a stop and blurt out, “Sorry, Mrs. Sinclair.”

Your boss’s laughter trills through the hallway, and you can feel your tension ease until she asks him, “What’s got you in such a hurry?”

Don’t say something ridiculous; nothing that’ll make it impossible for me to show my face on Monday. You squeeze your eyes shut in desperation, anxiety absolved only when he replies, “Just gotta pick my son up from my uncle’s place.”

“How is Wayne doing?” There’s a smile in her voice. “Is he still working at the plant?”

“Uh-huh. Cut back his hours so he can spend more time with Harris.” Eddie shoves his hands in his pockets and sits on his heels to disguise the tented crotch area. “A-And how’re Lucas and Erica?”

“Oh, they’re great,” Sue chirps, seizing the opportunity to brag about her children. “Lucas told me he saw you at Will’s party; he’s really doing well with his sports management business. And Erica just graduated, pre-law, and she’ll be off to Harvard in the fall.” She rests a hand on his shoulder, concern creasing her brows. “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

Eddie nods overzealously. “Y-Yep. Feeling great. Everything is, uh, peachy keen.” He gives a thumbs-up to solidify his statement, and you have to stop yourself from snickering.

As soon as they say their goodbyes, you shuffle over to your flustered boyfriend, wrapping him in a hug from behind, hands resting on the soft pudge of his tummy. “‘Peachy keen?’” you prod, giggles bubbling in your chest at the mere mention of his word choice. “I was expecting you to throw in a ‘jelly bean’ at the end there.”

Eddie reaches around and pulls you so you’re tucked beneath his shoulder. “You’re so fuckin’ lucky you’re cute,” he quips, but the way you eagerly snuggle into him serves as a reminder that he’s the lucky one.

Gray clouds have been threatening a storm all day, sagging low in the sky with oversaturation. The air is thick with humidity when you and Eddie make your brief walk to his car, the telltale first drops of rain staining the pavement and permeating the atmosphere with a dewy scent.

There’s a clap of thunder just as you’re fastening your seatbelt and Eddie’s turning the key in the ignition; it startles you both more than you’d care to admit, and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The rain pours in sudden opaque sheets, dashing any dreams you had of fooling around on your drive home; all of his focus is centered on getting you home in one piece. You settle for resting your hand on his knee, missing the usual rips and tears in the fabric so you can easily make skin-on-skin contact.

Eddie grips the wheel at ten and two, keeping a steady foot on the gas pedal as he crawls along the uneven road. His tongue pokes from between his lips as it often does when he’s concentrating. Drops thwack against the sedan’s hood and drown out the sounds of the Dio cassette he’d popped into the stereo system on the ride over to the school. At this point, he could be playing Alanis Morisette; the combination of the rain and the vigorous back-and-forth of the windshield wipers is too noisy for him to tell the difference.

The fifteen minute drive to your apartment takes an additional ten, but you’re both just grateful to arrive in one piece. You both take a few seconds to pause, assessing the intensity of the storm. You’ll be soaked by the time you reach the front door even if you take off your heeled shoes and dart barefoot through the parking lot.

“We can wait a few minutes and see if it slows,” you offer, but the constant rainfall has you questioning just how long you’ll be sitting in the car.

Eddie is thinking similarly, because he just shakes his head and kills the engine. In the absence of the music and the wipers, the pounding raindrops are even louder. He practically has to shout for you to hear him. “I say we make a run for it.” He grips the door handle, and you do the same. “On three. Ready?” When you nod, he begins counting. “One…two…three!”

The doors fly open with the force of your own strength and the howling winds. You shriek as cold water pelts your skin, gluing your dress to your body so the formerly loose garment hugs every curve.

You slip your hand into Eddie’s as the two of you race towards the tattered green awning covering the building’s entrance. It provides little shelter, but it’s better than nothing as you scramble to unlock the door.

“You even look pretty like this,” Eddie muses, clicking his tongue against his cheek. “‘S kind of ridiculous, y’know that?”

“You’re kind of ridiculous,” you laugh, wringing the hem of your dress before pulling the door open. Eddie catches it behind you, holding it so you can walk ahead of him. Once inside, he shakes his hair like a dog fresh out of the bath and flicks water everywhere: the already slippery tile floors, the glass window panes, and even you. You try and glare at him, but your giddiness betrays you, already heading towards your unit in hurried anticipation of his full and unadulterated attention to your body.

You’d left the fan going in the apartment, and the chill instantly infiltrates your bones. Your arms instinctively wrap around your torso, but Eddie’s having none of it.

“C’mere, pretty little thing,” he coos, unraveling you before cradling your cheeks in his hands, nose brushing yours. “Lemme warm you up.”

He says this, but his actions have the opposite intention. His fingers fly to your dress buttons with unbridled urgency, fumbling with the hooks to no avail. He could easily stop kissing you long enough to properly attend to the task, but that’s seemingly not an option. “Fuck it,” he swears against your lips, and before you can question it, you feel a rush of cool air against your back. A dozen tiny buttons clatter to the ground as he nearly rips the dress in half, already sucking on the skin above your collarbone.

“Been wanting to do that all day,” he confesses, pushing the torn fabric down until it pools around your ankles, leaving you in only your bra, panties, and shoes. “Baby, baby, baby; you got me so hard it fuckin’ hurts.”

You can feel him, the way his cock strains against his pants like it’s begging for release. “I have a surprise for you,” you tell him, undoing his button and zipper with far more grace than he undressed you.

“If it’s lingerie, can we save it for another time?” he asks, exhaling as he gets some relief from the pressure in his jeans. “Because if you’re not naked in the next ten seconds, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.”

You laugh at his candor. “Nope, not lingerie.” His teeth dig into his lower lip as you cup his bulge over his boxers. “Remember a few weeks ago when we talked about our fantasies?”

“Mhm. Vividly.” Eddie smirks as his hand snakes around your throat, not gripping it quite yet, but the motion still awakens the butterflies in your stomach.

“W-Well, I went to the doctor a couple of weeks ago so I could get on the pill.” Your words have him frozen in place, and he steps back to assess your facial expression.

“Like, the pill?”

“The pill,” you confirm with an excited giggle, starting on his shirt buttons to reveal the white tank top beneath. “So we can, I dunno, play pretend until we’re ready for the real thing?”

His eyes practically roll back in his head. “Fuck, I fuckin’ love you. Holy shit.” It’s not just the fact that you’re about to let him finish inside you—although he certainly has no complaints about that—but it’s mostly the way you’ve embraced his most intimate desires. He’s been conducting some research of his own to learn how to dominate a partner, waiting for the perfect opportunity to showcase his newfound knowledge. “Need you. Now.” His voice trembles on the last word despite the strength behind it.

The two of you stumble into your room, shedding your remaining clothes in a trail towards the bed until you’re both wearing nothing at all. Eddie grabs your ass and squeezes, growling in desperation. “Perfect body, Jesus Christ. Was made f’me.” His lips attach to your exposed nipple, sucking and flicking his tongue over the pert bud. He switches to the other, slotting his leg between yours so his thigh presses against your core.

“Eddie, please.” You make no attempt to mask your desperation; the feeling of your slick on his upper leg would give you away regardless. “I’ve been thinking about you filling me up…just…please.”

He nods, letting you lay back on the mattress so he can climb on top of you. “You want my cum, baby?” He leaves delicate kisses on your stomach, so close to your pussy but still too far.

“Mhm.”

“Then you gotta earn it.” He’s smirking at you, delighted to watch you squirm needily. “Leaning over in front of me at the school and then not even letting me touch you?” He tuts disapprovingly. “Doesn’t sound like something a good girl would do.”

“‘M sorry, ‘m so sorry,” you whine, “I swear I want it.” Your breath hitches as he slides one finger inside you, keeping his other hand in a tight fist around his cock.

He strokes himself, deliberate in each motion, never breaking eye contact with you. “Bet you wish this was around that pretty little throat of yours, huh?” He increases his pace. “Bet you wish I was inside you, too—don’t touch yourself.” His sudden gruffness leaves you taken aback, and he smacks your hand away from your clit before you can even start. “I never said you could do that.”

You whimper while he goes back to jerking himself, arching your back to bring him deeper.

“Y’want more? Use those words, Sweetheart.”

“More, more, I need it.” Nothing would be more delectable than being split open on his cock, your bodies bringing each other pleasure. There’s a small pressure as he adds another finger, not the fullness you’re craving but still satisfying nonetheless. “Eddie, fuck,” you moan as he curls them both, drawing you nearer to orgasm.

You think he’s finally going to give it to you when he lets go of his hardened length; instead, he wraps his newly free hand around your neck.

And, oh, the pathetic mewl that you let out as his grasp tightens, bewitched by his display of possessiveness. You teeter on the edge of release until he permits you, but there’s no holding back once he grunts, “your pussy’s got a fuckin’ vice grip on my fingers.”

You’re not quite sure why that does it for you, but it leaves you writhing beneath him in ecstasy. “Thassit, come f’me. Sweet girl, so eager that she can’t even wait for my cock.” He tilts his head thoughtfully, comically casual compared to the way he’s controlling your own actions. “Tell me: is it the fingering or the choking that’s got you like this?”

“B-Both,” you stammer; Eddie squeezes your throat in response. One ring has been spun around a sweat-slicked finger, and it carves a skull-shaped design into your delicate skin. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m–” Passionate intensity overpowers any further conversation, replacing words with strained, high-pitched moans.

“Good girl,” Eddie praises, his harsher dominance briefly fading and a softer side takes over as he works you through your orgasm. You feel the simultaneous loss of his fingers around your neck and inside your cunt, but you’re immediately distracted by him bringing his fingers into his mouth and sucking off your release. “You’re as delicious as you look.”

You smile, eyelids fluttering as your overstimulation subsides. Your chest rises and falls with shallow breaths as you collect yourself. “That was…” The synapses in your brain struggle to fire as you come down from the high. You prop yourself on your elbows. “Really, really good.”

His body sags with relief. “Wanted to make it perfect for you, baby,” he murmurs, kissing your lips tenderly. “Wanted to give you exactly what you asked for.”

“You did,” you promise him, shivering as you shift positions and lose the addition of his body heat. “And now…it’s my turn to make it perfect for you.”

Eddie’s about to rebut that it’s already perfect because it’s you and him drawing pleasure from each other’s bodies, when you maneuver onto all fours. “Oh, honey,” he groans, grabbing a handful of your ass, but he doesn’t broach your entrance right away. You twist so he can register the confused look on your face. “Just takin’ a mental picture for when you’re not around.” His eyes scan your body, erection throbbing against his stomach. “Mmkay, ‘m good.”

He pulls on your hips, signaling you to scoot back so he can align himself. The bare head of his cock nudging your hole has you trembling anticipatorily. Slowly, deliberately, he pushes into you. You can feel every ridge, every vein, his silky skin against your walls. “You…” he searches for a proper description but is betrayed by the blood flowing away from his brain. “Holy sh-shit.”

He’s still for a moment, just soaking in your direct warmth. His hips snap forward after what seems like eons; the fullness within you is heavenly. You could keep him inside forever with nary a complaint.

Eddie, meanwhile, is just grateful that he’s already made you come on his fingers, because he can’t imagine lasting long enough to do it again. The part of you that can still compile a cohesive thought realizes this, too, and you reassure him “take what you need, baby.”

“O-Okay.” His tone is tentative but his movements are not, finding a pace that makes his body hum. His brown eyes are glued to where you two connect, watching himself slide in and out. The soft shlick that comes with each thrust, your wetness drenching his dick more and more, is his own personal celestial chorus. There’s nothing separating you from each other anymore.

He’s addicted to you, the way you fill each of his senses in a perfumed cloud of desire. A patch of stickiness coats his upper thigh; he realizes that it’s your release trickling out of you and onto him. “Love when you cream my cock, mmm, fuck.” One hand lets go of your hip and cracks down on your ass, skin rippling under the sudden contact.

You let out a euphoric yelp, embracing the sting. Your cunt tenses around him with each plunge. “Just thinking about feeling you come inside me,” you purr. “Are you going to watch it drip down my legs? Hmm?”

Eddie shakes his head before he remembers you can’t see him. “N-Nah, ‘m gonna…” a grunt disrupts his sentence, “‘m gonna stuff it back in this pretty little pussy. An’ you’re gonna keep it inside.” He breathes in audible gasps as his pace increases. “Like my good–little–girl.” The last three words are each punctuated with a thrust.

“Want it to take s’fuckin’ bad,” he continues, the admission spilling from his lips involuntarily. “Want everyone to know that you’re mine, and only mine.”

You brace your body weight to your forearms, lifting your ass in the air to allow him impossibly deep. “Bet I’d look really good having your baby, Eddie. All cute and pregnant for you.”

That has him imagining you in the same position you’re in now, only his palm is splayed on the swell of a baby bump, your tits heavy with milk to nourish the life growing within your body. He spills into you without warning, just him crying out your name as he lets go. True to his word, he swipes at whatever cum has dripped out and gingerly pushes it in your pussy.

He flops down on his back, completely spent, not bothering to clean the rope of cum that now adorns his softening length. You rest your head on his chest, his cooling sweat matting down the sparse hairs and sticking to your temple.

“I love you,” he murmurs, fingers running up and down your arm. His lips easily find your forehead for a kiss. “You’re it for me, okay? Please don’t ever forget that.”

“I won’t.” And you mean it. “I love you, too, Eddie.”

The two of you drift in and out of sleepiness for nearly an hour, safe in each other’s embrace, before he stirs you awake. “I gotta go get Harris in a few minutes,” he says, laughing when you groan your reply. “I know, I wish I could stay here forever.”`

“What if you did?”

Eddie furrows his brow. “I think that’s a little more babysitting than Wayne volunteered for.”

You swat at his chest playfully, rolling over so you can see his face. “No,” you laugh, nuzzling into his jaw. “I meant…what if you and Harris moved in once your lease is up? No pressure,” you rush to add, “but this is a two bedroom, so Harris could have his own space. I know you’ll have to think about it; I’m not looking for a decision right–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Eddie interrupts kindly, silencing the ramble with a peck on your nose. “I don’t feel pressured. Trust me, if I didn’t have a kid to take care of, you’d never get rid of me.” He sighs and stretches, sitting up against the headboard, and you follow his lead. “Our lease is up at the end of next month. You’re the kid expert here; is that too soon to spring this on him? Will it, like, fuck him up irrevocably?”

You exhale, thinking about the best course of action. “Why don’t you ask him how he’d feel about it? Worst case scenario: he’s not ready and we’ll revisit it again in the future.”

“Are you sure? You won’t be mad or anything?” He’s treading cautiously as though waiting for the other shoe to drop. He loves Harris more than anything in the world, but there’s no denying that having a child furthers the complexities of dating.

You take his hand in yours and hold it tight. “We’re a team,” you remind him, kissing his bare shoulder. “Not just me and you, but Harris, too. I love you both, and I want you both to be happy here.”

Eddie’s heart could burst; he doesn’t know whether he needs to laugh or cry or some messy combination of the two. A team, you’re a team, and teammates stick together and look out for one another and keep each other afloat in choppy seas. It’s what he’d always wanted but never thought he’d have, or even deserve.

Now he’s got it, and he swears he won’t let it go.

Eddie dives right into the subject at dinner that night, not wanting to lose his nerve. He sits next to Harris, cutting a hot dog into bite-sized pieces and making sure that it doesn’t touch the pile of baked beans on his plate. His son has recently begun refusing to eat foods that have come in contact with each other, even if he likes both of them.

“Hey, Har,” Eddie starts, carefully sliding the paper plate in front of him. “I have a question for you.”

Harris barely pays attention, too fixated on getting the ketchup out of the bottle and onto the hot dog pieces. The bottle makes a pfft noise when he squeezes it, making him giggle. “Daddy, the ketchup farted!” He repeats the motion again and again, finding it funnier each time.

“Yeah, that’s silly,” Eddie halfheartedly agrees, taking the bottle from him. “But, Harris, I need to ask you something important.” He picks up his own hot dog wrapped in a slice of Wonder Bread and takes a bite. “How would you feel about me, you, and Ms. Sweetheart all living in her apartment?”

Harris’s eyes widen. “Like, together?”

Eddie nods. “Mhm. We wouldn’t live here anymore, but you’d take Grandma’s old room, and we can decorate it however you want.”

“I’d have my own room?”

“Yup.”

This provides more questions than answers for the young boy. “But then where are you gonna sleep?”

Eddie coughs to mask his laughter, not wanting to offend Harris’s curiosity. “Um, well, Ms. Sweetheart and I would share her room.” Our room, he thinks, wiping his mouth to hide a smile at the thought of you waking up in his arms every morning.

“But you’re not married.” Harris spears a piece of hot dog with a plastic fork. “You gotta be married first.”

“Sometimes people get married before they live together. But sometimes they do things out of order.” Like meet at a bar and hook up, only to find out that she’s your kid’s teacher, and then you loathe each other until you start to fall in love. “And that’s not a bad thing.” He measures the consideration on Harris’s little face. “But we’ll only do it if you’re okay with it. It would mean we’d have to pack up our stuff in boxes and bring it to Ms. Sweetheart’s place.”

Harris jumps up from his seat, nearly knocking over the food. “I have lots of boxes! We can start right now!”

“Whoa, whoa,” Eddie puts up a hand to stop him, chuckling as he motions for Harris to come closer to him. “We have a few weeks before we can do anything. But are you one hundred percent sure–”

“YES!”

Eddie pulls his son in for a hug, tickling his sides and kissing the top of his head. Happiness fills their home, though it won’t be their home for much longer. “I love you, kiddo,” he mumbles into Harris’s hair.

“Daddy?”

“Ya?”

“Can we call Ms. Sweetheart and tell her?”

Eddie wipes his hands on his jeans, making a mental note to sweep up any crumbs later. “I think that’s a great idea.” He stands up and practically sprints to the phone. He can’t dial your number any faster if he tries.

You pick up on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Sweetheart.” You can hear the smile in his voice through the receiver. “We’re in.”

taglist (closed):

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

@breezybeesposts @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @81rain @dylanmunson @eddiesguitarskills @everheart12 @etherealglimmer @hollster88 @wh0re4life @siriuslysmoking

@bibieddiesgf @winchester-angel @starlitlakes @avalon-wolf @hazydespair @josephquinncore @sidthedollface2 @eddiebaemunson @mandyjo8719 @daydreaming-mood @aol19 @corkadymu @starcourtnights

@rockstarmunsons @metalhead-succubus @boinkybarness @oohworldofpisces @costellation-hunter @toobsessedsstuff @meadow20 @lost-in-the-stars03 @aysheashea @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiemunsonslittlemetalhead

@chamomileh0ney @dream-a-little-nightmare @emma77645 @kurdtbean @sheneedsrocknroll92 @tlclick73 @lolly-in-a-strange-land @bakugouswh0r3

@strangerthingsstories5255 @itsalltaken @harmfulb1tch @averagemisfit03 @steddiegarbage @vigilanteshit @hiscrimsonangel @mrsjellymunson @idkatee

@quentinswife @eddiesguitarskills @momowhoo @jasminelafleur @mmunson86 @mcueveryday @augustsgetawaycar @let-love-bleeds-red @inesven @tanyaherondale @theintimatewriter

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui #smut

1K notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 11 months ago

Text

Dead Disco / Chapter 11

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Relationship issues, arguments. Angst. Toxic behavior. Johnny is struggling. Everyone is going through it. Johnny struggles.

"No contact?!" Johnny chokes, and you hesitate on the other end of the line, sharp breath rattling through the speaker phone.

“My… my therapist thinks it would be good, to try it. For thirty days. Just to see how I feel.” Johnny’s fingers stretch across the front pocket of his pants.

Thirty days?

You’ve already been gone five, and it feels like five years.

He balks. No. No, this. This can't be. You have to be home, with them. Where you belong. Where they can fix it.

“Ye… no, I thought… I thought this was just a break?” He doesn’t recognize his voice. It’s ragged and torn to shreds, and now fear makes it tremble.

What does this mean?

“It is, it is. I just… I have to try this.” You sound as sad, as fucked up as he does, and he wants to scream, throw the phone against the wall, say screw it all to hell and go over to your rental, bang on the door until you let them inside.

“Of course, darling.” Simon soothes, and Johnny stares at him like he's lost his grasp on reality. Of course? Of course?! “We understand, we… we can do that. We’ll do whatever you want.”

“No.” Johnny cuts in, he can’t stop himself, can’t control his mouth. He can’t agree to this, to not talking to you, or seeing you for thirty days. He can’t do it. “I-“

“ Johnny.”

“Johnny-“ You both say his name at the same time. Yours is a plea. Simon’s is cautionary, finger seeking the mute button, cutting you out of the conversation for a split second, long enough for him to utter a warning.

“Do not push her on this. We need to let her decide right now. She’s in control.”

“Hello?”

“We’re here.” Simon assures you, unmuting the phone. “We understand. No contact, thirty days. Will you reach out, afterwards?”

“I… I will, I promise.”

“And you’ll take care of yourself?” There’s a pause on the other end of the line, a gulp. Simon’s façade cracks, enough that Johnny can see the fear that lurks there, the worry.

“Ye-yeah. I am. I will.”

“Will you come to bed?”

Johnny’s thumbs press together, overlapping where his fingers stay knitted tight, grasping onto one another like he’s holding onto himself for dear life.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in and then releases it slowly through his nose. It’s a self-soothing technique, one he’s seen you do a million times. But once he’s done, his response is no less acidic. “I cannae sleep.”

Silence is his answer, until-

“Johnny.” Simon’s forearm wraps across his shoulders, pulling him backwards from the stool and into the cushiony warmth of his chest, heat burning into his back. Simon’s always been a furnace, a giant, weighted, heated blanket, his touch one of safety, security. Care.

But right now, all it feels like is anguish.

“Si.” He croaks, tears welling up behind his eyes. “I cannae do this any longer. I cannae… I need her back.”

“We need to be patient, and respect-“

“Respect?” Johnny blurts, incredulous. “No, No, I… We should be there, right now. We should be standing outside her door, we should be fightin’ for her, nae sitting ‘ere, waiting. Showin’ her how much she means; how sorry we are.” The warmth pulls away, an exasperated sigh blowing across the back of his neck.

“I’m not having this conversation again.” Simon is curt, growing cold, and it fuels the burning rage building inside Johnny’s stomach.

“Of course, because why would ye? It’s already settled in yer mind, isn’t it? That we just sit here, and wait, and let her slip away because ye coudnae keep yer mouth shut!” He’s said the same thing a thousand different ways over these last three weeks. Dressed Simon up and down six ways to Sunday over it, different verbiage each time.

The conversation always ends the same.

“Can you forgive me?”

“Of course I can but I’m still mad at ye.”

The anger foils away, ebbing into sadness, despair, and Johnny’s sight goes black when he buries his face in his hands.

“I miss her.” He whispers to the floor. The warmth returns and wraps him in a snug embrace, soft words hummed against the shell of his ear, each one punctuated with a kiss.

“I know, I know you do. I do too.”

“You nearly got yourself blown up!” Simon roars, and Johnny nearly flinches, steeling himself against his partner’s anger. “You can’t be makin’ stupid decisions like that. You jeopardized-“

“I knew what I was doin’. Dinnae question me, ye dinnae know anything about the tech behind those explosives, and ye know it.” He stands a little straighter, indignant, insulted, and Simon’s eyes narrow, before squinting, tension shoving his shoulders down in a slump.

This isn’t like them. They’re always in lock step. One unit. One person, two hearts.

The cot creaks beneath Simon’s weight, elbows against his knees.

“Johnny, what’s going on?”

“What do ye mean?” Dirty, cheap laminate flooring stares up at him, patterns in the grit swirling together like sand.

“You’re not yourself. Price mentioned-“

“Ye and Price talkin’ ‘bout me?” Unsettled anger rattles him, immediate demand rising through his blood. Simon holds his hand up.

“No. He was concerned, said you were a little rash the other day, on the recon. Asked if everything was alright.” He blinks. Blinks over and over, tries to quash the surging agony, the upheaval of his stomach. He fights it, tries to breathe through it, tries to stop it in his tracks, but a big grip wraps around his wrist, and tugs.

He’s settled into Simon’s lap without another word, his nose to his neck, fingers stroking through his mohawk.

“It’s going to be alright. You’re alright. We’re going to get her back, love.”

“I cannae do this. Ye dinnae know-“

“I know.” He squeezes him, calming him, and Johnny melts a little, sharp blade of the pain turning dull. “I know that the best thing we can do right now is be patient, and respect what she’s asked us to do. When she’s ready, she’ll let us know, and we’ll do everything we can, to try to fix it. To make it better.”

“I feel like there’s a hole-“ His hand rubs his chest, over and over, until the skin burns. “Like there’s a piece missing. I dinnae think I can do it, without her.” His voice breaks, and Simon’s attempt to calm him comes out like a strangled cry. “It hurts, Si.”

“We won’t. We just have to be patient, Johnny. We have to. We have to show her we can do it.” Simon murmurs, and then they both slip into a sad silence, Johnny huffing through his tears against Simon’s chest until he’s dragging them both down into the little cot, escaping into the comfort of uneasy sleep.

The flat is too quiet.

Lately, he’s been putting your favorite movies on in the small hours of the morning. Simon sleeps in now, restless until the sun starts to come up, and then he finally sinks beneath pull of dreams, or nightmares, whichever comes first.

So, Johnny curls up on the couch by himself, with your favorite tea, flip flopping between the rotation of movies that you always had rolling in the background, when you were painting, when you were cooking, or even reading.

But today, he paces. Back and forth from the bedroom, the kitchen, to the art room, the one you left half barren, the one that still holds nearly finished paintings, dried tubes of paint, stiff bristled brushes, long discarded for new ones, but not thrown away.

“I’m going to the gym, want to come?” Simon is hovering just outside the door, brows fixed together. He hasn’t stepped foot in here, Johnny has noticed, not since you left nearly a month ago. In fact, he avoids this room like the plague.

“No, ye go on.”

“You sure?” His head cocks in consideration, and then he nods.

“Yeah. Love ye.”

“Love you too. Be good.”

“Where the bloody hell have ye been?” Johnny seethes, arms crossed. Their half-eaten plates still sit cold on the table, mocking him since Simon left in the middle of the meal an hour ago.

“Out. For a walk.” The hoodie comes up and over his shoulders, and Johnny catches a whiff of it.

Cigarette smoke.

“A walk, eh? Ye out walkin’, and smoking?”

“Johnny.”

“Dinnae Johnny me, ye’ve been smoking, I can smell it.”

“I don’t want to do this right now.” He snaps, turning his back, heading into the bedroom, the bathroom.

“Ye dinnae want to do what?”

“This. Fight. Argue.” The shower clicks on, steam slowly building from the floor as Simon shucks his joggers, his boxers, Johnny’s eyes struggling to stay fixed on his partner’s face.

“I’m not arguing, I… I dinnae understand how ye can be so casual about this, it’s-“

“What am I supposed to do?” Simon turns on him, still angry, still hurt from their conversation earlier. It brews beneath the surface like a finely veiled stormed, just barely held back. “Lose my head? Fall apart?”

“I dinnae, talk to me?” Simon’s jaw clenches. Every scar on Simon’s back speaks to him, tells him stories, corroborates his witness accounts. Johnny wishes he could take them away; wishes he could kiss them.

But Simon feels so far away now. He’s felt miles away since you left, since the bed slept three, table slept three, couch held three.

“I’m right here, Si. I’m here.”

Johnny knows what he’s doing is wrong. He’s fully self-aware, but completely out of control. His legs carry him down the street on autopilot, barrage of requests and demands from his rational self trying to break through the encasement where he’s locked them away.

He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t.

He can’t help it. He can’t do this… anymore. It’s killing him. It’s killing Si.

He worries it’s killing you.

He tells himself he’s just going to check on you, make sure you’re okay. He’s not going to bother you, just make you’re alive. He’s not going to stay, he’s just going to say hi, ensure you’re safe, healthy, and then leave.

If you even open the door.

Guilt, anxiety, fear all turns over in his stomach, freezing through his blood as he climbs the stairs to your long term rental. He just needs to see you, needs lay eyes on you, just once, and it will all be okay. He’ll be okay, once he knows you’ll be okay.

Simon is going to be so bloody pissed. He grimaces. He knows there will be hell to pay. That Simon will be enraged, disappointed. That he’ll be upset.

They made a promise. He made a promise.

And now he’s going to break it, just like that.

He stands outside your door for too long, contemplating. Trying to sift through every decision he’s ever made, that led him to this point. He could still turn around, still go home, even though his finger is itching to ring the bell, a burning desire searing through his mind, urging him forward until his forehead is thunking softly against the wood, eyes closing.

Darling.

He can still see your face, your smile. The ways your eyes light up, the way your voice sounds when you say his name.

“I need ye, we need ye.” He whispers to no one, and then his finger presses the button, breath holding in his chest.

A few seconds pass. He strains to listen, latching onto the sound of footsteps inside, the click of a lock, the creak of the hinges, and then the door opens wide, revealing you on the other side.

“Darling.” You’re haunted, a flicker of a memory, a sharpened shadow sawing into the soft matter of his brain. You blink like you're trying to clear your vision, like you're struggling to see him, and he offers you an uneasy smile, something nervous and unsettled. You shake your head, mouth open in surprise, confusion, eyes wide.

“Johnny.”

#peaches writes #dead disco #ghost x soap x reader #ghoap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley x reader #simon riley #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader

861 notes · View notes