#like sincerely how fucking dare you? what the fuck is wrong with you?

[ozlices]

another super insulting part of the watcher situation i haven't rly seen ppl addressing much

ryan deadass saying smth like "nobody else on youtube has made tv quality content"

like... i really feel like it's important to highlight that bc not only do they obviously have no respect for their audience, but that statement shows they have no respect for their peers in the industry, either.

not to mention it is a shining example of bleeding arrogance to such a high degree, you will straight up fucking lie bc you're truly convinced you're that special when you're anything but.

there's been NUMEROUS online creators who were recognized by entertainment industry workers BECAUSE they made tv quality content & even full stop blockbuster quality content.

bo burnham started on youtube & is now one of the most wellknown & loved standup comedians of our generation, with numerous netflix specials & even a movie he wrote & directed under his belt.

the try guys, fellow ex-buzzfeed employees, had their own tv specials on food network (based off their youtube shows, btw) & a documentary made about them as well

rosanna pansino has also been on numerous food network shows both as a host & a judge

quinta brunsun, another fellow ex-buzzfeed employee, went on to create her own whole ass sitcom that has been highly praised

matpat cameo'd in the fnaf movie because of his theories & multiple other fnaf creators had small cameos through the employee of the month board easter egg

markiplier made multiple high-quality shows on youtube & is now working on a highly anticipated movie (he was also planned to cameo in the fnaf movie but couldn't due to conflicting schedules with his own movie)

hot ones got their own tv gameshow due to their popularity & they are still one of the most wellknown, beloved & respected internet shows

many short films made on youtube went on to premiere at film festivals & even in theaters

the hit horror film "talk to me" was created by youtubers rackaracka

webseries of actual fucking tv shows have also existed for literal decades

the list goes on.

to seriously think that overproduced bullshit is all you need to make "tv quality content" is not only tone-deaf, but shows they do not even know what they're talking about. many tv shows & huge blockbuster movies are made with absolutely microscopic budgets & small teams, & they still get praised & awarded for the passion, dedication, & creativity that shined brightly under those restrictions.

the blair witch project is probably the most wellknown & highly praised example of this, but it is far from the Only example

it is a whole other slap in the face, again ESPECIALLY when puppet history is one of their most popular shows, to spit in the face of internet history. to see the success of their predecessors, even ppl they fucking worked with at buzzfeed, & deny them of all their success & efforts to get where they ended up.

no, y'all are not the first people to make "tv quality content" on the internet. FAR from it. because your crap isn't even genuine "tv quality".

but you are the first ones to ever disrespect not only your audience, but your own fucking industry & your peers on this level.

& you are the first & i sorely hope the only fuckwads dumb enough to pull a stunt this fucking stupid, out of touch & utterly tone deaf.

[jarofstyles]

Haze

Hi bestie babes, here is a best-friends-to-best-friends-with-benefits piece! I am unsure if I'm doing a second part but if I did it'll be later on down the line.

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WC- 8k

warnings- use of marijuana, friends with benefits, biting, daddy kink, soft Dom H hehe

“H? Do you really think I’m pretty?” Y/N’s voice was slightly slurred, a mix of both tired and high as a kite from the joint they’d finished just a bit ago. The cool air flowed in from the window they’d cracked in order for her landlord not to get a call to complain, but she welcomed the chill. She always got a bit hot in her skin when the high hit her. “Don’t lie to me. Give it to me straight.

She loved smoking, sure, but she hated how it made her mind think about things she had purposely been putting off. Like her awful fucking dating life and how stupidly lonely she was.

Harry sat next to her on the sofa, his legs spread in an obnoxious manspread, his fingers messing with the Rubik’s cube. It wasn’t uncommon for them to smoke together- he was her best friend- but she wanted his opinion. The poor man was going to be subject to her insecurity.

Her string of bad dating experiences lately had made it hard to believe it wasn’t a her problem.

"Pretty? Babe, you're beautiful. Come off it." he mumbled, eyes still on the puzzle game. He was in that fluid mindset, neither here nor there. His reassurance felt nice but at the same time, a little vague. Her face contorted in a frown as she looked over at him. He was still baked, so she got it, but still. A little more would be nice.

“You have to say that. You’re my best friend. Tell me honestly, H. What is.. what is wrong with me? Because I don’t know how someone can go on so many bad dates and it not be a them problem.” It had been plaguing her the whole time and harshing the high. The words needed to come out. “I’m the common denominator.”

Finally, he put the Rubik's cube down and turned to face her fully, his gaze locked on hers. Sure, he was dazed from the weed, but he wanted to be sincere with her once he had heard how she had actually been a bit torn up from it. As hard as she tried, it wasn’t easy for her to hide her emotions from him. Even high Harry could see past the playful quips she had made lately. It had only been a matter of time before she had asked him about it and in his opinion, it was bullshit. There was nothing wrong with her at all. Y/N was amazing, but it was only natural to become a little insecure when someone had the string of bad luck like she had.

"Y/N, there's absolutely nothing wrong with you. I'm being completely honest with you, I swear. It's not you, it's them.” He winced knowing how cheesy it sounded but it couldn’t really be helped at the moment. “You're a fuckin’ amazing, smart, beautiful, funny, talented, kind person... I could list off all your good qualities cause there’s loads of ‘em, but m’high and can't think straight enough right now t’give you the fancier words like… exuberant? Pretty sure that one’s right ."

Y/N let out a little laugh. She could hear it in the low tone of his voice and how it seemed to take him longer than normal to say things when he was stoned and trying his absolute hardest to get that out, but it was a little cute. Too bad it wasn’t enough to get her out of her wallowing.

“Then I’m doomed.” She groaned, sinking into the couch. Her hands came up to cover her face, a tired sound leaving her as she tried to reset. “Dude, do you know how entirely and overwhelmingly exhausting it is? And don’t you dare call me dramatic.” Her eye peeped up at him before she fell back into a huff. “I know you get sex on tap but for the rest of us normal folks, it’s like a war zone out there.”

Harry snickefed at her little quip as he watched her sink into the couch. Letting out a sigh as he really thought about it though, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. "I understand how you feel, trust me. It's not easy for anyone. Although I have to admit, I can't exactly relate to your dating struggles, not really. I just happen to be lucky enough to have a very dedicated fanbase."

He was joking but… not really. He always teased her about this. The women who tended to hang out around the garage or try to get near him after hours to ride him in the cars that he just fixed… It wasn't hard for him to get what he wanted. Being good looking, tattooed, solid and single, it got you a lot of places, and a lot of ass. If only she could relate.

“Yeah, yeah. Slut.” She grumbled lightheartedly, kicking her foot against his thigh. It wasn’t fair it was as toned as it was. “You’re a mechanic and you’ve got all the rich soccer moms throwing themselves at you for a romp in the backseat while their husbands are at work. That’s nice and all, but the dating pool for us commoners is abysmal at best.”

Shooting him a glare, she grabbed the bag of goldfish shaped crackers and popped some into her mouth. “At this point I’d be fine with a friends-with-benefits sorta thing- but god damn it, I just want someone to love me at some point.” There was a moment of silence before she cleared her throat. They didn’t really discuss their sex lives and stuff often so she took his silence as one of not knowing what to say- which was fair. She was sorta dumping this all on him. In the grand scheme of things it wasn’t that insane. Everyone went through shit like this. “Sorry. I don’t mean to actually be dramatic this time.”

Harry shook his head at her remark, giving her a reassuring smile that had his eyes crinkling at the corners. He locked his gaze on her face as he listened to her speak, his expression softening with understanding instead of the smug joking he was giving off before. "Hey, s’alright babe. You're not being dramatic. It's how you feel, and I understand that. Everyone deserves love, and I have no doubt you'll find it."

He paused for a moment, considering his next words carefully. When he spoke again, his voice low and sincere as he knocked his hand against her thigh to get her to look at him.

"Y/N... can I ask you somethin’? And don’t make it weird.” He warned, making her unsure what the hell he could be asking.

Brushing the hair out of her eyes, she turned to look back at him with a questioning look on her face. “Sure. What’s up?”

Harry seemed to hesitate for a moment, unsure whether he should ask or not. It would most definitely change their dynamic if she was offended or freaked out by it, but regardless he felt like it it was something he knew he had to ask. He shifted on the couch, turning to face her fully, taking a deep breath and letting his gaze lock on hers before speaking.

"Y’know how you were saying how you're open to a friends with benefits thing? And how you're tired of being alone?"

“Yeah…. I literally said it like, two second ago.” She replied, voice slow and drawn out. She knew she was foggy, but damn. Of course she didn’t want to draw conclusions but she had to wonder why he would be bringing that up again. Her heart beat a little harder as she narrowed her eyes at him. “Why?”

His gaze remained steady on hers, his expression unreadable. He took a moment before speaking again, his voice low and slightly hoarse. Of course he wanted to be careful with his words, in the off chance this could offend her but he knew that he’d kick himself for not asking if he avoided it. He took a deep breath before asking the question.

"I was wondering... if you'd be interested in having an arrangement like that... with me."

Blinking rapidly, she had to be sure she wasn’t just hearing things. Usually she wasn’t the type to have hallucinations when high, but she didn’t know if he would ever actually suggest that. “Uh.. can you repeat that?”

Harry smiled softly as he saw her surprise. He knew it was a big ask, but he was committed to the idea now.

Leaning forward, his voice was smooth and deliberate as he repeated his question, this time with more confidence considering she hadn’t completely looked disgusted at the idea.

"I was asking if you'd be interested in having a friend's with benefits arrangement with me. No strings attached, just a... way to fulfill certain needs without the commitment. What would you say to something like that?"

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said.” The nod was casual, as if that hadn’t just completely freaked her out. Not in a bad way! But in a…. What-the-fuck-my-best-friend-just-asked-me to-casually-hook-up-on-the-regular, sort of way.

“Uh… I’m not saying no, but I have to ask why you’d suggest that? I didn’t think you were attracted to me in the slightest.” It had completely come out of left field. The intent behind complaining wasn’t for him to offer but to get genuine advice from him considering he never seemed to struggle in the dating department.

"Who the hell said I wasn't attracted to you? I’ve always thought you were stunning.” It wasn’t supposed to come off defensively but he had to wonder in the moment if maybe it did. Harry had never once thought of her as anything but mind blowingly gorgeous.

“Okay, but you have to say that. You’re my best friend, like I said before. I just….” Hesitance grew on her face, looking over his own for any sign of joking. If he was, her ego really couldn’t handle another blow. “I really don’t want to be a pity fuck. And I also don’t want to like… no offense to you, I don’t want to sleep with someone who isn’t exclusive with me? Not like in the dating sense but like, I’d ask you not to sleep with anyone else for safety and I don’t know how you’d feel about that.” Maybe she was rambling but thoughts were running rampant in her already overcrowded brain. Asking him not to fuck anyone else felt like an overstep for some reason.

As she spoke, Harry nodded along, listening intently. He understood her hesitation and appreciated the honesty; it was one of the things he had always loved about her- But he certainly didn't want her to feel like a “pity-fuck” either. That was the furthest thing she could be. He could respect her wanting a certain degree of exclusivity, especially for safety. He knew he was a bit of a whore and he wasn’t ashamed of it, but he had full ability and sometimes the wish to be monogamous- more than he expressed. Granted, if it were anyone else he’d probably feel a little suffocated in an ask like that but… It didn’t sound so bad when it came to Y/N.

"I get it," he said, nodding in agreement. Reaching out and placing a hand on her knee, his touch warm and gentle, he tried his best to reassure her. "I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't find you attractive, Y/N. It's not about pity, it's about wanting a connection with someone I know and trust. And it’s not like it isn’t a convenience for me, too. No awkward leaving afterward, no like… ‘here I’ll get you a cab’ or saying no to a sleepover. We’ve slept in the same bed loads of times and you know I love a cuddle..”

Sharpening her gaze on him, she tilted her head. “Is this because you wanna do some crazy kinky stuff? Cause I’m open but I dunno how crazy I’ll get.” She was kind of kidding…. But kinda not. There were her own things she wanted to explore, but she didn’t want to be a lab rat.

Harry's eyebrows raised at her question, slightly taken aback. He couldn't help but laugh lightly at her tone, but there was also a hint of genuine interest in his reply.

"You really think I'm into kink, huh? Some sort of freak in the sheets?” Wiggling his brows, he teased her. It wasn’t as if it wasn’t obvious that he was a bit of a frequent fucker, but he didn’t have much shame in that. It wasn’t a kiss and tell sort of situation, but he wasn’t shy about letting her know he’d had a lovely night the day prior when need be. “Well, maybe. But no, that's not the only reason..." He let out a breath, a smirk on his lips. "But I'd loveeee to find out what you'd be open to, if we did this."

“Nope, you first, casanova.” She bounced in her seat, getting closer. Her nosy tendencies took precedence over everything else, it appeared. Getting to know more about him that was was enticing and she couldn’t hold herself back. “What's the crazy stuff you’re into? C’mon, we never talk about this stuff.”

Harry was open about the fact he had a healthy supply of offers and hookups but she had stopped him a few times from giving details. Mostly for her sake, so she didn’t see him as some sort of deviant- even if he was. Now, though, knowing she was potentially someone who could experience said things? Her curiosity was killing the cat. Her cat. Metaphorically speaking.

The man’s lips curled into a small smile as he saw her eager expression. He leaned back on the sofa, his arm stretched out behind her. He was throughly enjoying her nosiness- maybe for the first time- considering it gave him the perfect opportunity to tease her a bit more. "Oh, where do I even start... I have quite a few kinks, darling. But I have a feeling you'd like to hear about a certain one..."

“Okay… so tell me.” She rolled her hand to motion to him to continue. Patience really wasn’t Y/N’s strong suit and it was beginning to show, even if the smoking had initially relaxed her. “Let’s hear it. I want to know what I’d be getting myself into, besides greasy hands and the smell of motor oil.” Though she’d never admit how she’d learned to enjoy it, too.

He couldn’t lie and say he wasn't enjoying how intently she was looking at him, how her gaze was fixed on his every move. He leaned forward just a bit, his voice dropping lower as he continued* "Alright, y’wanted to know, you'll get to know like the princess y’are. But keep in mind, I've got a few of these, not just one." The taunting made her give him that impatient look he was used to, snickering under his breath as she bore her eyes into him.

“Okay. Lay them on me, tell me!” She huffed, knocking his knee. “You’re edging for no reason. I already know that one because you’re gross. Tell me the real stuff.”

Raising a brow at her eagerness, he leaned back again with his arm still draped behind her. He began speaking again, letting his voice drop a bit. "Alright, just a little tiny taste then… See if you can handle it. I've got a thing for power dynamics, darling. Particularly, I like to be in control."

“Mm… I could have guessed that. You’ve got the whole smolder thing, and you do the…” Y/N put her hand behind his neck before pulling it off. “Then you do the neck holding thing when we go out. You like to control where people go. Boss me around. So I had a clue. Give me one I wouldn’t expect.”

The perceptive observations hadn’t been something he expected, but it did amuse him. He reached up to brush a strand of her hair away from her face, his fingers lingering against her skin.

"You know me too well, little dove." He muttered, his eyes sparkling with mischief. This was a conversation he was enjoying. Not one he anticipated tonight, no, but one that had him on the edge of his metaphorical seat. His real seat was leaned against the back of the couch. "Okay then... how about this? I also enjoy a bit of exhibitionism. Kinky enough for you?"

“Oh?” She sat with it for a moment. “Actually… that makes sense too. You’re understated in public but you still get a lot of attention. Behind the scenes you’re an attention whore and stuff, which I know first hand but… yeah.” She huffed. “Damn. Can’t believe I didn’t guess that sorta stuff.” Another question popped into her mind. “Wait… what have you done with that? Are you talking like. Dressing rooms, cars? Or in front of people for real?”

Harry grinned as she continued to analyze his kinks, watching her as she went through it in her head. Had she thought about it before on her own? That wasn’t something he’d mind, in all honest. He chortled at her question and leaned back, his arm wrapped behind her. He didn't want to reveal too much but he was enjoying this back and forth. Maybe a tad bit more than he should be.

"You've got good instincts, darling. Yes, I enjoy exhibitionism. And yeah, both dressing rooms and cars are on the list. But not just that... I like a bit more of an audience sometimes. But that’s a different conversation. I can explain why I like it, though. Since you seem to be so curious.”

“Do tell.” Yes, maybe she was a little nosy but… it was slightly arousing. Harry was interesting to her before but now, with the idea of her being in those scenarios, she felt an elevated desperation to know.

Harry noticed how her eyes darkened with excitement as she listened to him and it made a feeling of satisfaction twist in his gut. Having an effect on her was something he hadn’t realized he’d enjoy so much, but now that he had a taste he wanted to see more of it. He shifted a bit closer, his voice dropping into a low whisper. "I like the thrill of being caught. The danger of it, y’know? I love that it’s risky, that your adrenaline pump and you’ve got t’be quiet. Or you don’t, and you have people see- when it’s appropriate.” That was something he’d experienced a few times. “I’ve had it happen before. Maybe I could arrange that, if that’s something you’d want. People watching, not touching, just watching me touch you... and I’d touch you plenty, darling."

“I think um, I’d like it” It was hard to talk with how her tongue felt tied. “I’ve not done a lot of it but I think I’d be open to seeing and doing more of it.” Her voice weakened, feeling him close to her. His cologne was warm and slightly spiced, his fingertips brushing her arm. Y/N had never experienced the sort of thing he was describing. The most she had done was fuck in a car. “Y-Yeah. I think that’s something we could um… try.” She cleared her throat, trying not to show how affected she actually was. It was hard not to. “What other kinks? Anything I wouldn’t guess?”

Harry saw right through her attempts to seem unbothered and he grinned, his hand continuing to lightly brush against her shoulder. He was enjoying the effect he had on her, the more the minutes passed by. It was a brand new side of her that he hadn’t been privy too prior, but now that he had a chance to? He was going to indulge.

"Glad you're up for trying it, darling. And as for other kinks..." He paused for a moment, his gaze trailing over her body before he spoke again in a deeper voice.

"I'm also into a bit of rope bondage, but that’s for another day too. The typical things you’d expect in kink too, the rougher stuff sometimes, but I really like working you up until you can’t take it anymore. Making you desperate, y’know?"

“Ropes?” She swallowed the shock. “Oh. Hm…” it made sense given the other things but for some reason she hadn’t expected him to be into actual ropes. “I’d have thought maybe more handcuffs but you do like being difficult, don’t you?”

It was a joke but it slightly intimidated her. Nothing she wouldn’t try, though. She trusted him to do that sort of thing with her, if they got to it.

Harry hummed at her surprise and leaned a little closer, his hand coming up to her chin to tilt her face towards him. His eyes locked with hers, his tone serious. It was hard to ignore how beautiful she was now that he was allowed to think that way. It was something he’d tried to limit his brain from indulging in before, but knowing he’d have all the rights to be the one to stare and touch her, he felt like a layer had been peeled back.

"Yeah, darling, I like being difficult. And I like being in control. But we'll take it slow, alright?" He saw the hint of intimidation on her face and the small act of rebellion he liked to see in her. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, her skin hot and soft under his touch. “Nothin’ you don’t want t’do. I’ll make sure you're comfortable. Even if you’re a miserable little brat sometimes.”

“I…” her train of thought was stalled by the tender touch. Harry was… he was being a lot more liberal with his touches. Sometimes he was when he was high in general but this itself had her feeling hot under her skin. There was that intention now that this was slightly more than what friends do. “I can’t lie and say I’m not slightly intimidated by the thought of us doing stuff together. You’ve done a lot more than me.” She admitted meekly.

Harry simpered as he heard her confession and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He appreciated her honesty, understanding her intimidation. It would be the same for him in her position, but luckily he was going to use his advantage for good. "I know I've done more than you, but that's not a good nor a bad thing. Everyone is experienced in their own way, darling. And that's the point of us doing this... to explore each other, to learn what the other likes." He ran his hand down her arm, his fingers lightly tracing her skin, sending chills across her body.

His fingers curled around her wrist, lightly pulling her up and leading her to straddle his lap. This wasn’t at all where she had expected this night to go but… she couldn’t complain. With her nerves aside, Harry was by far one of the most attractive people she had ever met. There was no way she could turn away the opportunity to feel the way he touched someone romantically.

“You’re really okay not sleeping with anyone else in order to do stuff with me?”

Harry gazed up at her as she straddled his lap, his hands sliding up her thighs, pulling her closer against him. He looked up at her with a mix of desire and affection, appreciating her concern for his boundaries. "I'm absolutely fine with it," he assured her, his voice a low rumble. "I don't want anyone else." His hand came up, gently cupping her jaw. "I want to make you feel good, Y/N. I want to give you all the pleasure you deserve, and I want to be the only one doing it."

Y/N let out a weak sound as his lips pressed against the corner of her mouth. Having him so close was making her feel lightheaded, placing her hands on his shoulders as he tugged her closer to him, chest to chest.

“What do you want to do tonight?” She mumbled, eyes dropping to his lips back up to his eyes. “We don’t have to do like, everything and stuff but… I dunno.” The weed definitely made her aroused.

Harry chuckled softly, his lips just barely grazing the corner of her mouth, teasing her again. Feeling her body against his, her hands on his shoulders, it sent a wave of heat through his body. He doubted she knew that he’d started getting aroused when she started talking about what he’d be into.

"You're cute when you're bashful, darling. And high." He teased, his lips curving into a smirk as he spoke against her skin. "As for what I want to do... I just want to enjoy this moment. Maybe smoke a bit more, later. But mostly I just want to touch you."

“O-okay. You can touch me however you want.” Giving him that opening was bold, but she also knew she needed to just let him take charge. He said he liked to dom, so he would take care of her. Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt soft presses of his lips over her cheek, down to her jaw.

“You smell really good.”

Harry could feel himself holding back the pleased noise. The little compliment was a welcomed one, but he didn’t get them often from her. It was a new part of their dynamic but he couldn’t find himself upset with it. In fact, he was going to do everything he could to get some more out of her. He glanced at her, enjoying the way her eyes closed in response to his touch. Running his nose down the column of her neck, he took a little inhale of her scent. Sugary Sweet. Just like her.

"So do you, darling." He spoke against her skin.

In a test of how she’d react, he let his hands slid under her shirt, his fingers tracing along her bare skin. There was no stiffening, so he continued slowly moving closer to the hem of her bra. His lips continued their path down, leaving behind a trail of tingling sensations and wet marks on her skin.

The shaky exhale was louder than she had wanted, his hot fingertips burning a trail over her skin. He took the permission to heart, tracing the bottom of her bra as his lips moved down her collarbone.

Her breathing hitched as she felt his teeth sink into the skin lightly, a firm sucking making her fingers grip his shoulders tightly and nails dig into him just a bit. “Oh, shit… why does that feel good?”

Harry giggled against her skin as he felt her nails digging into his shoulders, enjoying the fact he was already getting a reaction out of her. He continued to kiss and bite her skin, occasionally sucking on the sensitive parts, marking his territory and drawing out more sounds from her.

"Cause I know what I'm doing, darling." He murmured against her skin before biting her collarbone again, this time a bit rougher.

“Oh my god.” She keened, head falling back as her hand came up to cup the back of his head. Fingers curled in his hair, feeling his mouth mark her up while his hand went under her bra, cupping her in his palms. “Fuck.”

Y/N felt the pulsing between her slick thighs, her sleep shorts riding up as she shuffled closer and pressed his mouth harder against her skin. It had been a while since she’d gotten laid but it was a little embarrassing how quickly he managed to get her to feel completely insane.

The sounds of her keening and breathing and the feeling of her arching into his touch was making his own need for her grow. His lips continued to work her her skin, marking and kissing and doing all the things he wanted because it felt like heaven to have this on tap. He could only imagine how much better their smoking sessions would be, how much more fun sleepovers would be if he got to love her up like this without a second thought.

“H…” she whimpered. Rocking her hips slightly, she rubbed against his bulge she could feel clearly between her thighs. “You’re h-hard already?”

Harry hummed quietly, feeling a thrill as she rubbed against him. His lips curled into a smirk against her skin before he lifted his head up, looking at her with darkened eyes. "Yeah, 'course I am, darling. You have no idea what you do to me, do you?"

Moving his hands back down to her hips, he gripped them tightly to grind himself against her. Give her a taste of just how hard his cock got for her. There was no reason for her to doubt. “You did this, sweet girl. S’all your fault.”

“Oh, shit.” She groaned, giggling at the end as she felt his mouth fall onto her chest. Wet, sloppy kisses were placed on the tender skin as she felt him guide her back and forth, setting a pace for the friction. “I can’t tell if it’s been a long time or if uh… if you’re just really good at this.”

Both. It was absolutely both.

Harry chuckled against her chest, his breath hot against her skin before his smirk widened.

"Mm, I would like to think it's because I'm really good at this," his hands guided her hips, setting a slow, torturous pace. "But maybe also a bit of both. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

“Uh-huh.” She nodded. “9 months.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at her response and tilted his head to the side.

"Nine months? Damn, babe." He murmured, his hands going under her shirt, his fingers tracing up her sides, making her shiver. Getting the reactions from her felt almost as good as her rubbing over his cock. "That's a long time."

“Just didn’t find anyone good enough to let in my bed.” She retorted, using her grip on his head to guide him back to her chest. “Take my shirt off.”

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He quickly pulled her shirt off, throwing it over his shoulder, before his hands came back up to her body, slowly tracing up her stomach, his fingers brushing over her skin. The thought had been there quite a few times over what she’d look like bare, but this was a brand new vision for him. One he absolutely adored.

"Beautiful." He murmured, his gaze wandering over her chest as he took in the sight of her bare skin, his breathing growing a bit heavier.

Her voice interrupted his inspection of her body. “Bra, too, please. Have to bite the bullet.” Despite her nerves that maybe he wouldn’t like what he saw, she felt comfortable with him. Harry wouldn’t ever make her feel bad. That much she knew for certain.

Plus… she wanted to feel more of his mouth.

Harry chuckled softly and nodded, his gaze locking with hers for a moment as he ran his fingers over the straps of her bra, pulling them down over her shoulders.

"You're so beautiful, darling. Don't ever feel nervous around me," his reassurance grounded her, his voice gentle but firm.

He reached behind her back, quickly unclasping her bra and pulling it off, tossing it away. Taking a moment to appreciate the sight in front of him, his eyes lit with desire. “God. You don’t even understand how phenomenal you are, do you? M’a lucky son of a bitch that you’re letting me touch you at all.”

Y/N continued to rub herself against him, feeling flushed at the praise. It was embarrassing that she had a pretty good idea that her sleep shorts were getting soaked, but she was swollen and wet and the motions itself of him between her legs were getting her embarrassing close.

Feeling his mouth kiss over the naked skin, she let out a moan that she hadn’t expected to. He was delicate but demanding, taking what he wanted.

Harry groaned as he felt her rubbing herself harder against him, his hands gripping her hips tightly to guide her movements. He couldn't resist the need building up inside him, the need to make her moan and whimper and squirm beneath him.

"You sound so pretty, darling," The compliment murmured against her skin, his lips traveling down her chest, stopping every so often to leave wet kisses, claiming every inch of skin he could. Selfish, possessive, needy. He wouldn’t deny any three of those allegations should she so choose to label him.

“It’s gonna feel so good when you’re inside of me.” She whispered, almost in awe. He was thick and long and she could feel every inch under her. It was almost intimidating to feel it and know that was going to be inside of her at some point. “But I… we have to wait for that. Wanna do that when we aren’t all… you know.” High. At least the first time they fucked, she wanted to be sober completely. “I think I could get off just like this, though. I feel so good right now.”

Harry nodded, his lips continuing to leave wet kisses on her skin, his hands roaming up her sides as he continued to grind himself against her.

"Impatient, aren't you, darling?" He teased, nipping at her neck before moving his mouth to her ear, whispering in it. "You'll just have to wait for that, though. But...there's always other ways to get us both off, hm?"

“Which way?” She breathed, eager to hear any and all suggestions he had.

Harry held her gaze, his eyes dark and full of desire as he spoke in a low, husky tone.

"Let me show you."

He gently pushed her back until she was laying down, his hands running down her thighs, pushing them apart slowly. Shifting his position, he hovered over her, his body fitting perfectly between her legs. His weight rested on his forearms as he looked down at her, she felt her world right itself from how it had been tipped over.

Y/N hadn’t expected the shift of direction but she liked it. Feeling him on top of her, she felt… delicate. Protected. Even if his gaze was predatory and hot, she knew he was good hands to be in.

She also hadn’t expected his hands to grab her shorts, pulling them off and tossing them to the side- but as soon as her panties were exposed, he settled back between her thighs. It was less of a barrier between them.

Harry hummed in approval as he got a glimpse of her panties, taking a moment to admire the sight before him. "You're so fucking wet, darling. Made a mess of those useless shorts. Panties aren’t much better." He murmured, his eyes roaming over her body before they went back up to her face. "And I fuckin’ love that you're all mine right now."

Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. Grabbing his face, she pulled it back up to her own and kissed him. Taking matters into her own hands, she felt him reciprocate immediately. And god, could the man fucking kiss.

Harry let out a soft curse at her sudden action but didn't hesitate to kiss her back through it all, his lips moving against hers hungrily. He pressed his body closer against hers, trapping her beneath him as his tongue delved into her mouth, greedily tasting and claiming her like he had been teasing the whole time.

“I wish you could fuck me right now.” She whimpered, feeling him rock against her. His cock perfectly pressed against her cunt and their mouths lapping against one another’s, it was heated and desperate. They couldn’t, not right now, but the idea of it had her slick and throbbing. It was unfair how her body was so primed and ready for him but she had to do the right thing. He’d feel so perfect inside of her and she’d be so full and they both knew it. “I wish you were inside me.”

Harry groaned at her words, the sound almost like a growl as he buried his face against her neck, his breathing getting heavier as he heard her whimper. He rocked his hips against her, his own need growing stronger with every second that passed.

"You have no idea how badly I want that, darling. But we can't...not yet." He whispered against her skin, his hands gripping her hips tightly. “I’m plenty patient, though. I’ll wait for you to want it, and then…” the pause was heavy. “Then I’ll give you every fucking thing you’ve ever wanted out of a fuck. Can promise you that.”

“I know. I know.” There was no doubt that he was fully and utterly capable. She swallowed back her desperation, wrapping her legs around his hips to pull them closer. “You just feel so good against me. I never expected this…” she whispered against his mouth. “But I’m so happy you decided to be horny and suggest it.”

Harry laughed, leaning down to press his lips against her neck again, licking at the skin as he continued to move his hips against hers, his body hot and heavy against hers. He lifted his head up slightly, looking down at her with darkened eyes as he took in how she had started to look a little blissed out. Just how he wanted her.

"I didn't expect it either, darling. But... I'm glad I did." He murmured, his fingers caressing her skin as he settled into a slow, steady rhythm. Rubbing back and forth, rocking his clothed cock into the sticky heat of her ruined panties, he knew her scent would be on them and that just sort of did something to him. Her own mark left on him.

Y/N felt the bubbling pleasure in her tummy. Feeling him rutting against her, the softness of his tongue as it brushed against her own, his hand curled around the back of her neck in such a possessive and firm grip, she felt controlled in the best way. Her eyes rolled back as she felt him grind harder against her.

“Fuck, Daddy. That feels so fucking good, feeling you against my cunt.” She purred, keeping herself glued to him. There was a pause of moment but she could feel him twitch against her, the sharp intake of breath as he tried to catch himself. It had been a shot in the dark, but one that hit the bullseye. “You like when I call you that? Does it make you feel good too?”

The reaction was visible. The man liked it more than she could even seem but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to play into it to see just how far it went. “Daddy… daddy…. Dadddy.” She taunted, whispering it against his skin. “You’ll make me cum like this. Just keep grinding into me…. Just like this.”

Harry groaned at her response, his lips moving down to her neck, leaving biting kisses in his path. The honorific had him weak, even more worked up than he had thought he could be in this scenario. Little Y/N was getting bolder by the minute and he fucking adored it. It made him wonder what else he could get out of her.

"You're gonna get it, darling. Jus’ be patient and let me make you feel nice, the way you’ve been wantin’ too." he murmured against her skin, his hips continuing to move against hers, keeping a steady pace. His hand cupped her chin, forcing her to look up at him, his eyes dark and intense as he looked down at her. "Daddy's gonna take such good care of you, Y/N. Don’t ever doubt it."

Harry was hot to the touch, her fingers guiding his face back to kiss her as he ground his cock into her. She could feel how it twitched against her, her legs keeping him close so they could stay glued together. “That feels…” she babbled. “S’good. So good, H. I feel so hot and I’m so fucking wet and I wish there wasn’t anything between us but we gotta be good. So good.” She rambled. It was hard to control what left her mouth. She would call it temporary insanity if he brought it up again outside of their arrangement, but the simple movements were making her lose her goddamn head.

Harry's breathing was getting heavier by the minute, his heart pounding against his chest like they wanted to escape his ribcage as he continued to rock his hips against hers. He felt hot and needy, every fiber of his being screaming to be closer to her, but he held himself back, knowing that they had to at least try to be good. He’d get to sink his cock into that hot cunt another day, make her cum around it and squeeze and milk every drop from his balls into her. That was something he was going to look forward to. But for right now they were testing the waters, and he liked it way more than he thought he would.

"Y’feel so good, darling. So, so fuckin’ good, can barely stand it." He murmured against her lips, letting the praise flow easily off his tongue. It’s what the woman deserved. All these shitty hookups and no one knew how to get to those little itches she couldn’t scratch- but he could read her so easily. Harry knew what she needed. "You're doing so well for me, being so good. Daddy's proud of you."

The last sentence made her whine out loud. Pleasure flowed through her at his praise, wanting more of it. All of it. It had been so long since she had been touched by someone else, and while the last person she had expected to do it was her best friend, she had also never felt this level of desperation.

Harry could feel her body responding to his words, her whimpers and whines making his own desire for her grow even more. He loved knowing that his praise was making her feel good, that she needed to hear his words. He continued to murmur sweet, filthy things in her ear as his body moved against hers, his need for her growing more and more intense with every second.

"That’s my girl, sweetheart. You're doing so well for me, letting me take care of you like this."

He knew it had been a long time for her, felt it in how she kissed. Selfishly he would be glad to be the one she got to take care of her. No one else really deserved it. Maybe he didn’t either, but he cared for her genuinely. He liked her and he wanted the best for her- so that’s what he was going to do.

“M’gonna cum, daddy.” She whispered. “I feel it. You’re getting my clit so perfect each time you move… god, s’so embarrassing to cum dry humping but I forgot how good it feels.” Or maybe it just hadn’t ever felt this good with anyone else. It had been a while, sure, but she hadn’t actually had dry sex with someone since she was sneaking around with her boyfriends back home. Something about it made her know that it had to be a Harry thing, though. That he’s the reason it felt this fucking good and why she was desperate for it.

Harry could feel her words shooting straight to his core, his body growing hotter in response. He could tell that she was close before she had even said so, by the way her body trembled against him, by the way her words got breathier and more desperate. Hearing her say so only made him more eager to get there.

"That's it, sweetheart. Let daddy make you feel good, darling." Harry murmured in her ear, his hands gripping her tighter, his body moving against hers more frantically now as he chased his own release alongside hers. She was going to cum, she was going to cum because of him and fuck if that wasn’t the sweetest reward he could think of- he wasn’t sure what was. "You're doing so perfect for me. Just let go for me. You can do it. I've got you, sweet girl."

Y/N felt it approach quicker than she had wanted. It was no wonder, though. Harry was giving her everything she didn’t know she needed in the simplest way, and he wasn’t even inside of her yet. She felt safe and appreciated as his fingers held her and his lips cooed encouragement to her, the rhythmic back and forth of his cock rutting against her poor, soaked panties, the heat boiling over.

“I’m gonna- m’cumming, m’cumming, I’m cumming Daddy- Harry.” She babbled as her eyes welled up with pleasured tears, nails digging into his skin as she came.

Harry's breathing hitched as he felt her grip on him, her hands digging into his skin and her body trembling against his as she came. “There you go baby, there you fuckin’ go. Yes.” He gasped, feeling himself tip over the edge. His name leaving her lips in a strangled whimper had been the final straw, his own release hitting him like a wave, his body shuddering against hers as he followed her over the edge. Shooting right into his briefs, he felt the hot and sticky load and momentarily mourned the loss of it not being inside of her, but it was quickly passed over as the orgasm washed over him.

"God, darling," the man groaned, his voice low and rough as he buried his face against her neck. Mouthing over the skin as he tried to gather his bearings, he mumbled sweetness into her. "You did so well for me, sweetheart. You're so perfect. So good for me. Sweetest fuckin’ peach."

The loud groan that followed her own had caught her off guard, the sharp thrusts of his hips making her cry out in overstimulation but she did little to stop it, keeping her legs around his hips. “What the fuck was that?” She laughed, head falling back on the sofa with her eyes blurry and wet. It was hard to think.

Harry couldn’t say anything, his own brain fuzzy and his body in overload after that climax. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his forehead resting on her shoulder. His curls brushed her skin, scalp slightly damp as her fingers settled in the mess of hair and brushed through it without a second thought.

"Bloody fuckin’ hell, babe." Harry finally managed to say, his voice a bit shaky. "That was… incredible." He lifted his head up, looking down at her disheveled and flushed form, his eyes roaming over her.

It was just dry sex, but it had been better than some of the full on stuff he’d had. Maybe it was just their connection, their vibe, maybe even being high, but he knew it felt impeccable. This was something he wanted to revisit- and he would, especially when he was all alone with his hand on his cock.

“If it feels good like that, what the hell are we gonna do when we do the real thing?” Y/N blinked up at him, the flush of her orgasm glowing on her skin. She felt her body shivering slightly, her poor panties a complete mess she’d need to change into, but there was no regret so far. It took her by surprise considering she had been anticipating a bit of awkwardness between the both of them but there was no hint of it as they recovered, a light kiss pressed over her cheek as his hazy eyes looked down at her.

Harry let out a half-laugh, his body still feeling heavy and spent after that intense release- one that had been a welcomed surprise. There had been no prior indication that would be happening tonight but for as insane as it was that it happened, he was more than happy that it did. Getting to experience this side of Y/N had been something he liked far more than he could have ever anticipated.

Leaning down, his forearms rested on either side of her head as his eyes locked with hers while he spoke. "I have a feeling that the real thing will be earth-shattering." He said, his voice low and slightly hoarse. "The wait might kill me, though."

[chelseeebe]

bump n’ grind

a lil continuation to gimme a hand wherein our lovely reader helps eddie out after an embarrassing mistake.

18+ mdni. again, mostly just smut. maybe some angst towards the end i guessss. eddie munson x female reader.

eddie’s on cloud nine.

his head floating well above the pretty pink room he was currently in.

not entirely sure how he ended up here but also not at all angry about it. a night of rum and beer had lead him to this.

sarah.. savanna.. something, sits atop of his lap, bouncing off of his thighs like a jacked up rabbit.

he’s clawing at her back, trying and failing, to keep a steady grip on her wild body. appreciating the soft squeaks that left her mouth with every bounce.

and before he can really think about it enough to stop his mouth, he says it. wanting to dig his own grave the second his lips spread.

a long, drawn out iteration of your name.

she stops, immediately. breathless as she grips his shoulders, “what’d you say?”

his cock aches and his cheeks burn, any hope that she’d just ignore it and continue had flown out of the window, “what?” acting clueless, “i didn’t.. didn’t say anything.”

eddie knows full well what had slipped out of his loose lips, muscle memory from the embarrassing amount of times he had whined your name while imagining that it was your hand wrapped around his cock instead.

“you said somebody else’s name,” she frowns, sounding far too close to a possessive girlfriend rather than the one night stand that she actually was.

“did i? i don’t really remember.. does it matter?” with full sincerity, wondering if she was going to stay on his dick or climb off and throw him out.

“if i’m having sex with someone, i at least expect them to know my name,” she scowls, clambering from his lap to the empty space next to him.

“shit,” he mumbles, head in his hands, “fuck. i’m sorry,” sobering up instantly, embarrassed by his blunder.

she sighs, taking pity on his pathetic self, “is she your ex or something?” re-dressing herself with an old t-shirt, rightfully putting an end to their encounter.

“no..” eddie frowns, shaking his head, “she’s my.. my friend.”

best friend actually. making it all the more confusing and complicated. he’d spare her of all the gory details, for her sake.

“oh,” the girl gawps, stifling her laugh. “you should tell her,” leaning over to grab her phone, no doubt to tell all of her friends about eddie’s embarrassing freudian slip.

he’d deserve it.

-

eddie perches on the end of your bed, not daring to move any closer for fear of losing it and touching you like he dreamed of doing.

it had been four months, two weeks and five days since you’d jerked him off in that tiny bathroom.

not that he was counting.

and still nothing more had happened between you. a few instances where eddie had thought you were close but nothing of any real consequence.

nevertheless, a day hadn’t passed since where he hadn’t thought about it at least once.

he’s memorised every single frame of that video, all the times you pant and twist your hand. the exact second his phone falls onto the counter and the video changes to an image of the back of his head.

every. last. detail.

you jab your foot into his back, peering over your phone screen to frown at him, “what’s wrong with you?”

eddie sighs, letting his shoulders slump, still staring at the torn ac/dc poster he had ripped off the wall for you. it reminds him too much of times where things weren’t so complicated.

“i hooked up with someone the other day,” he states monotonously, uncaring anymore about telling you what had really happened.

“okay?” you jab him again, “why are you sad about that?” confusion echoing.

“i’m not sad.”

you sit up, the mattress shifting behind him, “then what the fuck’s your problem?” leaning forward to rest your chin on his shoulder, in that similar position you were in all those months ago.

sometimes he wishes you’d never touched him. that he had just settled with chrissy and you had never been an option. not that you really were now, still unobtainable, taunting and teasing him.

“i said your name,” he exhales in one big breath, “i said your name while i was having sex with her.”

his shoulders felt lighter now, despite you still resting on them. something about the relief of finally letting you know how he felt. embracing his stupidity.

“really?” your mouth falls open, “holy shit, that’s funny,” he can feel your hands creep up his back, sending shivers over his skin.

eddie shakes his head, at a loss for words. he could see how you’d find it funny, but he couldn’t see the humour in it himself. in fact, it was a marker for the absolute desperation he felt towards your new complex relationship. not only had you taken over all of his waking thoughts, but you’d somehow subliminally crept into his intoxicated mind thoo.

“what were you thinking about? when you said it,” you pry, head twisting around to look at him.

“you.”

“me?” you rasp, right into his ear. “what about me?” feeling your breath against his cheek, transporting him straight back to wayne’s cramped bathroom.

his eyes fall shut, like he’s in some humiliation ritual, getting off to the way you teased him so.

“that video.. that stupid video,” he whispers, tuned in to every twitch of your fingers on his back, your soft breaths in his ear.

“oh,” he can hear the smirk in your voice, unwilling to open his eyes to see it again, “is that it? just the video?”

he doesn’t understand why you’re asking so many questions. obviously enjoying the way he squirmed under your touch, antsy and reluctant to say anything.

“i was.. picturing you were her,” he squeezes out, blood rushing to not only his cheeks, but his cock too.

“aw,” you coo, hand sliding higher, “tell me how it felt,” voice thick with desire, fingers circling around his shaking shoulders.

“good..” his eyes squeeze together, feeling his jeans shift uncomfortably, “not as good as you did,” almost begging, pleading for it.

you hum, your other hand finding the top of his thigh, dangerously close to the tent in his jeans.

if you kept this up, he’d cum all over his fucking pants.

you squeeze the skin, a low grumble from yours lips, “what position were you in?”

oh god.

“w-why?” eddie chokes, seeing stars behind his eyelids.

“i just wanna know, eds.. so i can picture the scene.”

his head tilts back, allowing you the opportunity to creep into the crook of his neck, traces of your lips just barely touching the sensitive skin.

“please tell me,” you mumble, vibrating against his trachea, making his toes curl, grounding himself with the rough carpet.

“she was on top,” he spits, balling his fist around your blanket.

it didn’t feel real between his fingers, poorly substituting your body for the cotton.

“oh,” you shift, the bed frame creaking as you clamber into his lap, resting atop of his thighs. “like this?”

he doesn’t open his eyes. can’t, not without cumming his pants right there. but he can feel you, perched just below his crotch,

“what’d she do now? hmm?” dragging your nails down his chest, your fingers prod at his skin, forcing him to flop back against the mattress.

the space allows you to shuffle upwards, your cunt brushing against his aching cock, leaving him no choice but to turn into pure mush beneath you.

“fuck,” he breathes, daring a glance in hopes to keep the image ingrained in his mind forever.

your hips begin to grind against his crotch, groaning softly with your palms flat to his chest.

“you like that?” you purr, rocking back and forth on top for he rough denim of his jeans.

“i need you.. fuck, please,” he keens, fingertips so firmly pressed into your waist that they’d leave indentations for days.

you don’t respond, sighing softly as the friction between you grows stronger, cruel and twisted in the way you tease him.

he doesn’t understand what all of these almost-encounters mean. it’s like you want him but not fully. holding yourself back for the right moment or perhaps just trying to keep him going until somebody else came along.

his hands slide around to your ass, moving with every jerk and cant of your hips. gruff, frustrated sighs leave his mouth, mixing somewhere in the air with your whiny moans. need and urgency ricocheting around the walls of your room, yet neither one of you prepared to take it all the way.

“jesus eds, are you gonna cum?” you breathe, as much as this was for his benefit, you were getting off as well.

that alone makes this other worldly. even if he was doing absolutely none of the work, you were writhing and gasping just as he was.

it’s almost incomprehensible how much you using him to get off was frying his brain.

eddie was about to combust, the closeness of it all, so near and yet still so far apart. two layers of clothes felt like a million miles. finally brave enough to open his eyes, hoping to keep this image seared into his brain forever.

“yeah.. yeah i’m gonna cum,” he whines, jerking his hips up to meet yours, rocking against each other in perfect rhythm, “please.. oh fuck- fuckfuckfuck,” his cock positioned perfectly between your folds, covering your pajama shorts with your slick.

“good boy,” you breathe, fingers twisted into his shirt, tugging at the fabric, not letting up on your torturous grinding.

your tone is somewhere between mocking and sincere, but he doesn’t care. doesn’t have the brain capacity to if he’s honest.

his cock twitches against his boxers, hips shuddering into the air as an uncomfortable warmth overtakes his crotch.

“oh god.. shit,” the sudden realisation of the mess in his pants, how grotesquely down bad he was for you, hits all at once.

your lips curve, shuffling down to the top of his thighs. you don’t exchange words, just a sly glance that erupts into giggles. leaning down to peck his lips as your hands let go of their hold on his chest.

eddie’s hands don’t move, gripping onto your hips, hoping you’ll stay there for the rest of eternity. not only had he cum in his pants, he had done so at a disturbingly fast rate. a few minutes of what was essentially dry humping had left him sticky and full of shame.

“are you ever gonna let me fuck you?” he asks, practically begging for your mercy, needing to know for his own sake.

he likes to think that if you said no, he’d be able to walk away with his dignity, to never let this embarrassing display for pathetic yearning happen again.

yet deep down, he also knows that that’ll never happen. you could string him along forever and ever and he’d never do a thing about it other than cherish the moments you let him touch you.

your laugh topples over, slinging your leg over his waist to kneel beside his lifeless body, “one day,” kneeing him softly in the side, “go get changed, i’m hungry,” climbing off of the mattress, disappearing from his eyesight.

his head flops back onto the bed, sweaty and exhausted, ignoring the feel of his boxers clinging to his skin and the inevitable wet patch seeping through to his jeans.

an insatiable churning in his stomach for more, for you.

but eddie is eddie, so instead of doing any of the things that he really wanted to do, he rolls off of your bed with a sigh, shimmying out of his jeans just as you’d asked him to.

[poisonsage808]

Play Pretend

Jinx x Reader

warnings: you work for madam margot— that means you’re a sex worker. there's no sex but it's mentioned so if that’s not for you then please don’t read! (some) established relationship, pretty fluffy ngl

She was always adamant she knew what fucking was and how to do it, even though you never asked. Madam Margot affectionately called you a quick study, said it was a very useful skill, you never pressed on sensitive subjects. It ruined the mood. Jinx, however, was more of a friend than a client. She still paid for your uninterrupted time, often getting more of it so as to not ruffle feathers of her Chem Baron, Silco. He and Margot did not get along, and he liked you even less when he learned where Jinx's stipend was being drained.

She brought it up again today, joking about the birds and the bees. Her eyes fluttered here and there, hands fussing with the belongings around the room. She’s too jittery, you noted but didn't dare bring it up.

“We don’t have to do that, you know.” You assured softly, patting the empty space next to you.

Her braids tangle at her feet as she spins around, throwing each step awkwardly towards the bed.

“I know.” Her voice was quiet, a word you didn’t associate with Jinx.

“You... do have me curious, though.”

Her head lolls backwards as she laughs, flopping on the silk sheets beside you, “I have that effect on people. Go on, ask away!”

You lay on your side, head propped up by your elbow. Jinx’s smirk fades and her eyes begin to drift away from you again. You decide to mimic her instead and lay on your back, looking to the ceiling. A gesture she appreciated, you can feel the tension evaporate from her almost instantly.

“Why do you keep wasting your money? We don't have to hangout in a stuffy room when we go go enjoy the stuffy air outside.”

She makes a pfft noise with her lips like she’s annoyed. With a speed you weren’t prepared for, suddenly kicks her leg over yours. Hovering over you, she's at last able to hold your gaze. Her big blue eyes hold enormous sincerity but her brows are pinched in concern. Your amused smile flees from your face, replaced by your own worry.

"What's wrong?"

She shakes her head, teetering the edge of frustration, "You still don't get it."

"I want to," you whisper like it's a secret, "I just need you to tell me."

Slowly, so carefully slowly, your hands rest on her cheeks. The desired effect works instantly, Jinx's eyes shut and her body drops on top of yours. She mumbles into the sheets that you're a witch, making you laugh lightly. You can feel her smile against you as your hands relax on her back.

“I like you, dummy. I don’t know why, but I do... And I know if I buy your time, you have to pretend to like me too.”

Your heart twists uncomfortably tight.

"Jinx--"

You turn your head and find yourself nose to nose with her. The speech you'd made so many times in your mind shrivels up at the sight of her, words die on your tongue. Before you can try and summon them back, she renders them useless by crashing her lips against yours.

[akirathedramaqueen]

The bias is not always conscious

And that's the case with Stolas. That's it, that's basically the post, so you can count it as your tl;dr, but let me elaborate. :)

(A little gratitude note! Sorry @tealvenetianmask, I failed being concise here, but I thank you for encouraging me to put it all together :3 I also thank you for our conversations about Stolas and about museums in particular which heavily contributed to it)

I think there's some misunderstanding when people get offended by the suggestion that Stolas acts classist/racist. It seems that people assume we’re implying he is malicious and intentional with it, but the actual problem is that he doesn't think.

S2EP2, Seeing Stars, 1:29

The problematic behavior we're discussing is reflexive and internalized. Stolas was raised in an environment where the lower demon class is looked down upon, and while he believes he expresses nothing but deep respect for Blitzø and treats him as an equal…

Goodnight, Blitzø. S1EP7, Ozzie's, 14:50

And while you can see from this bow that this intention is sincere, which is both wonderful and fascinating—he preserved this profound gesture ever since he was a kid, despite being actively discouraged from doing so!...

[Stolas]: I'm Stolas! It's nice... Ouch! [Paimon]: Don't bow to that one! He bows to us! Idiot! S2EP1, The Circus, 7:40

He was still raised in privilege and influenced by the narratives around him. For him, it's acceptable because that's what he was taught is fine. It's part of his everyday speech, and he never actually asks Blitzø, or anyone else, how they feel about the literally belittling nicknames (like literally—do you notice how often he uses the word "little" when referring to imps?).

I mean... there's a lot, okay? I'm just going to pull out some examples off the top of my head. All of them are from Season 1, and I'll explain why later.

I was hoping you brave little imps would accompany us! S1EP2, Loo Loo Land, 5:15

Ugh, that's better... Where's Blitzy? He's my knight in shining armor, not you, littler ones! S1EP2, Loo Loo Land, 13:22

And it [grimoire] isn't supposed to be lent out to itty-bitty imps like yourself. S1EP5, The Harvest Moon Festival, 0:30

Greetings, tiny Wrath Ring imps! S1EP5, The Harvest Moon Festival, 8:22

[Stolas, in the background]: Who dares threaten my little impish plaything? S1EP6, Truth Seekers, 18:20

How the fuck did you get caught by humans? Are you little creatures not being careful up here? S1EP6, Truth Seekers, 19:38

He also takes pride in being part of Ars Goetia. That pride seeps into his mind whether he wants it to or not. He lives in a huge palace, never worries about money, can arrange a seat in a club that’s always booked out, and gets admitted to a hospital immediately, while hellhounds wait five years for a Hellbies shot.

Being part of the Goetia family is rather valuable, you know. S1EP2, Loo Loo Land, 4:39

Most of these examples come from Season 1 because, after the disastrous Ozzie’s date, Stolas begins to unconsciously cut back on this language. He seems to sense that something is wrong, though he doesn’t fully understand why. However, he is acutely aware of the problems with the transaction and the unfair dynamics it creates, and he is serious about putting Blitzø on equal ground by providing him with the means to run his business independently of Stolas.

And still, he maintains full control over the conversation during the Full Moon meeting, immediately dismisses Blitzø after one mistake, and throws him out. He continues to impose his narrative on Blitzø and…

I don't look down on you! How many times do I— When have I ever?! S2EP9, Apology Tour, 2:45

When have you ever indeed, Stolas? You literally look down on Blitzø saying that. This moment illustrates the problem clearly. He isn’t lying when he says he doesn’t look down on Blitzø because he genuinely believes he doesn’t.

Despite all said, Stolas is making a tremendous effort and is progressing, and he is far ahead of Stella, who is openly classist/racist and very conscious of her biases. So I believe—no, I know—he will get there one day. But not today.

This is something I take quite seriously, and I think people need to understand how dangerous this subtlety can be, as it happens all the time in real life too.

How often do you ask yourself why medical research groups are predominantly represented by white, cis, upper-middle-class males, and how this affects the efficiency of treatments suggested in these studies for everyone else—women, people of color, non-binary folks, and those who struggle financially?

How often do you visit museums and see art created by wealthy aristocrats who defined what constitutes 'fine art,' while 'folk art'—often created by marginalized communities—is overlooked and lost to time?

I could elaborate further on how deep and cruel this bias is, but I’ll stop here. I just ask you to consider why you might get offended when someone points out Stolas's subtle bigotry and why you might downplay it compared to the loud, aggressive Blitzø, whose anger and avoidant issues are obvious.

Just sit with it.

[the-dark-parade]

Dear marshal,

Could I have... REINCARNATION AU!!!

Let's say that reader (female) used to be a soldier under lilia

AND while working under him, she fell in love

So she confessed to him. EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. (annoying.)

But one day, it looks like he's going to get hurt fatally, and she takes the but instead. (how stupid.)

And she dies. But she doesn't regret it. And gets reincarnated!

(I wanna see him pining for her the same way she does for him!!!!)

WARNINGS! THIS STORY CONTAINS... angst + fluff + lilia×fem reader

A/N: Thank you for your request, @something1032727 I hope my work pleases you. This is my first work after all. If you are not comfortable with this, feel free to leave. If you would like a version with male reader instead, please request it. Likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Now, the parade starts with it's first destination...

Fate's Redemption: A Love Reborn

(part 1)

In the symphony of life, love echoes and reverberates endlessly, intertwining souls across time. Every gesture, every sacrifice, echoes through eternity, shaping destinies. And in the cycle of rebirth, love's refrain returns, reminding us that its melody endures, transcending even lifetimes. Truly, eternal echoes of love.

"Please go out with me!" You say as always, with such vigour, with such annoyingness, as always. Love-struck eyes stare into mine, seemingly going into my soul, hoping for a chance. It's like her eyes turn into hearts whenever I'm here.

How stupid. One of my best soldiers in the army, and she's so head-over-heels for me. Save her clumsy ass a few times, and she magically falls in love with you.

How naive.

I reject you once again, for what seems like the 1000th time or more, but you still don't give up. Your stubbornness is one of your worst yet best trait about you.

You eat my food with a smile even though my other soldiers avoid it like the plague. I suppose you do have good taste after all.

You cook for me, feed my ego, help me with my work, and so much more.

I wonder if you're just in it for fun. Perhaps you just want my title if we actually win the war. But I brush the thoughts off when I see your sincerity.

You ask again, and again, and again.

Why are you so insistent?

Why do you even bother?

Why do you like me so much?

This little crush of yours should be over by now. I have not treated you very nicely. I have not treated you any different from the rest. There is nothing between us. Why can't you understand that I'm just not interested?!

At least that was what I would like to say. If my heart didn't stop beating so hard around you. If your smile, your stupid, stupid confessions, that used to not bother me at all, now haunts me in my sleep every night!

What's wrong with me..?

Am I truly... falling in love..?

.

.

.

Well, that's what I wanted to ask.

How stupid. How fucking fucking fucking stupid!

How irritable can you be?

How much do you want me to cry over you?!

Is it too late to say I regret not accepting your confession all those years ago, if now you're dead..?

--

"General, watch out..!" You say, as you use your body to shield me from an arrow that I never even noticed was coming after me. Pushing me to the side.

"...you're dying. How stupid. Why did you take that arrow for me?" I pick you up, just running to base. Stupid human devices..! I can't cast my teleportation magic! There's no time, there's no time! You stupid fae...

"cause... *cough*, I love you." You say weakly, softly, coughing out blood in my arms. You even wink! You infuriate me so bad!

"Shut up! Don't you dare die on me!" I ran as fast as I could. Don't die. Don't die. Don't die! You made my life brighter, and now you want me to go back to how it was?!

You made me fall in love with you!

.

Fuck. Before we even reached, I could feel your heart stop beating. Your body is becoming cold. No, no, no! It can't end like this. It can't!

Is this what it feels to have your whole world crash upon you?

My heart feels heavy. My cheek feels wet. I feel like causing a massacre. My chest feels tight. It's a bit hard to breathe. I feel a chill go up my back.

But why..?

Death is normal in war. Death is a daily occurrence in war. Death happens in every fight, in every week.

So why?

Why does death, which was so normal for soldiers on the battlefield like me, make me feel this way?

Amidst my thoughts, I managed to bring you back to base. But it wasn't really you. Just a cold, soulless empty vessel of you.

This is just too cruel.

You should not have ended up this way, you still had so much to live for, and just when I was actually going to accept your confession you go and die on me?!

We... Could have been happy together.

If only... If only I wasn't so stubborn, denying my feelings for you.

If only you weren't so insistent on going out with me.

If only...

If only...

If only you didn't take that hit in my stead, could that have happened..?

Ah, but it's too late to regret it now, huh?

.

That night, it was said that wailings could be heard from inside the General's tent.

--

Years have passed, and the numbers signalling each year are not the only changes that happened in my life.

I have gotten wiser and older. Now I know what I felt for you in those days.

Love is the word for my overwhelming feelings for you.

I visit your grave from time to time. It mostly ends up in tears, despite how many years have passed.

I used to call you pathetic for being so love-driven. I guess now I'm the pathetic one. How my past words bite me in the gyatt, just like the youngsters say!

I entered school. I can't believe I still have that invitation letter from NRC from all those years ago!

I have gotten over you.

At least that would be what I would like to say, but when I saw you again, it was like my old heart started beating again.

"(y/n),"

The dark mirror said, and my eyes shot to the person in question. Could it truly be..?

Those eyes. Those mannerisms. Everything about you... I could never mistake you for anyone else. It's you.

"Thou shall be sorted into..."

Diasomnia. I hope she'll be sorted in the same dorm as me. But even so, I'll win her heart again even if she's not.

"Savannahclaw!"

I feel like sighing... We could have been dormmates! But, oh well!

Khehehe. This general makes a mission to himself, to make you fall in love with him as deeply and as hopelessly as you did all those years ago. And this general isn't one to fail a mission.

Get ready, my love.

A/N: dear souls, stay tuned for part 2! Thank you for reading if you read.

[niningtori]

see me | chapter four: together (final)

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: after another failed relationship, you're ready to accept your fate as hopeless. choi beomgyu has other plans, though. or, beomgyu s your best friend's little brother and he's tired of you treating him like a kid.

genre: romance, angst, angst with a happy ending, best friend's brother au

word count: 3.4k (whoa)

notes: hi friends! happy easter to all who celebrate!! sorry this took me a bit to get out. i just love this story and this beomgyu so much i didn't want to rush it. i hope you're all satisfied with how this ends. see end of work for more notes :)

you're so out of it jia can't fucking take it anymore. 

"hello? come back to earth, please," she says, waving her hand in front of your face. "are you ever gonna tell me what the fuck happened with doyoon?"

it's been a few days since your return from the beach. suffice it to say, one painfully awkward drive was spent with you trying not to openly stare at beomgyu and him focusing intently on the scenery outside. 

you're actually a little surprised by her question. you genuinely haven't thought about your conversation with doyoon since you had it — you've simply been too preoccupied by the revelation that beomgyu has feelings for you.

"nothing much, really. he apologized to me and asked to get a drink sometime."

"what the fuck?! what did you say?!" 

"i said no," you reply simply. she's quiet for a moment before her face contorts into a deep frown.

"why do i get the feeling that that's not what's bothering you so much?" 

"because it's not," you admit with a sigh.

"then what is it? you've been weird ever since we got back."

you're torn for a while. how do you explain to your best friend that her kid brother is in love with you? or says he is, at least. 

"... it's about beomgyu. he—"

"oh, so he finally told you, huh?" she interrupts with a knowing look and you're absolutely flabbergasted.

"t-told me what?" you try feigning ignorance. maybe she's got it wrong?

"that he's been in love with you ever since he first saw you."

"how the fuck did you know that?!" you ask incredulously.

"you're my best friend and he's my brother. i know you two too well," she shrugs.

"so you knew this whole time and didn't tell me?" 

"well, to be honest, it was painfully obvious, but i didn't wanna embarrass either of you and it's, frankly, none of my business."

"i... wasn't he just drunk? i don't believe it…” you trail off.

"what do you mean?"

"i mean, he can't really mean it. he doesn't know what he wants. he's just a kid and—" 

"i'm going to stop you right there," she says sternly. "you may be oblivious, but don't you dare dismiss his feelings to make yourself feel comfortable. his feelings are real and he doesn't deserve to have you completely disregard them just because you can't face them." you flinch at her harshness.

"b-but he's never even hinted at it!" 

"never even hinted at it, my ass. that boy was all over you," she snorts. "did you really not notice anything this past week?" your eyebrows knit in confusion as you think back to all of the times the boy (man?) had interacted with you. suddenly, the unassuming touches and glances beomgyu shared with you hit you at a mile a minute. oh god, he was flirting? he was, wasn't he? and you just ruffled his hair and called him cute. 

but you're not done denying, denying, denying.

"i just don't understand. how could he like me when he's always with somebody new?"

"has it ever occurred to you that that's because he wants you to see him as a man and not the child you're so convinced he is?" you fall silent at this. no, it has never occurred to you, but now that she's said it, the puzzle pieces are starting to fit together in the most gut wrenching way.

"so he's been fucking around for years because he wants to prove something to me?"

"more or less, yeah." your head is spinning at this. so his feelings are sincere? 

"i... i don't know what to say."

"i figured you wouldn't," she hums.

"what do i do?" you ask with a newfound sense of panic. this is real. beomgyu actually love, loves you. 

"well, what do you want to do? it all depends on how you feel about him." 

"to be honest, i've never seen him as anything other than a brother," you sigh.

"and what about now?"

"i... i don't know. i'm just confused," you whine, digging your face into your hands and slightly tugging on your hair. when you think of the kiss you two shared, your heart skips a beat and butterflies arise in your stomach. well, that's new.

"honestly, i'll consider that progress. it's better than being brother-zoned." 

"jia!" you exclaim exasperatedly. "you're not helping. the boy i've thought of as a literal brother is in love with me and i've unknowingly treated him like shit for years." 

"yes, but i know and he knows that you didn’t mean it. look, even if you don't like him at all, don't you think he deserves a proper rejection at the very least?"

"you're right," you relent. "you’re always right.”

“well, i know,” she muses. “but before you decide anything, i want you to think about who’s been by your side all these years. when you didn’t have anyone else, who could you count on?”

“i —” you begin. 

“don’t answer yet. just think about it.” and think about it, you do.

-

the more time you’re left to think about what happened with him, the more confused you feel. beomgyu isn’t a child anymore, that much is clear, but does that mean you can undo the near decade of thinking of him as one? he’s handsome, sure, and that kiss nearly knocked you off of your feet, but can you really see him as a partner? as a man?

you’re not really sure. plus, what would happen if it didn’t work out? the choi’s are like family to you. they’re more of a family than your actual family ever was or ever will be. is it really worth gambling such an important piece of your heart for something that could easily end in heartbreak? but then, it’s broken, either way. can you really face the choi family again when you know beomgyu is in love with you and has been for such a long time? no, you can’t. not in good conscience. you’ve, intentionally or not, ignored beomgyu’s feelings for years now and you can’t ask him to bottle them back up for your own comfort.

you decide it's best to just talk to him. 

-

beomgyu doesn’t think that this is a good idea at all, actually. but his friends told him that rotting in his bed and crying like he has been for the past few days is even worse. when they put it like that, it didn't seem right to refuse their suggestion to have a double date with yeonjun. even still, he told them he wasn't ready to see someone new, but they said he was never seeing you in the first place. that sure shut him up. either way, it would be casual and yeonjun just needs a friend for his date's friend.

his "date" is nice enough, but she seems to have not gotten the memo that he's here as a wingman and not much else. she's trying to draw his attention by not-so-discreetly placing her hand on his thigh. gross. he genuinely thought about pretending to have a stomachache to cut the date short, but yeonjun had the bright idea of inviting the girls over after dinner. so now, as he sits on the couch of his and yeonjun’s shared apartment, he prays for god to intervene and end his suffering. 

a knock on the door pulls him out of his thoughts. please, god, let it be the maintenance man telling them they have to evacuate because of a gas leak. he almost jumps out of his seat to get to the door first, but yeonjun is closer and he says he’ll get it. fuck. before he can catch a glimpse of the mystery person at the door, his date speaks again.

“gyu?” the girl asks tentatively.

“mmm?” he says, turning back around to face her.

“do you like me?” she says while, once again, putting her hand on his thigh. alright. enough is enough. usually, he would tell her to beat it and leave it at that, but ever since you told him he doesn’t treat girls the nicest, he’s decided he’ll try to be better. he takes her hand from his lap into his and opts to just be truthful. 

“to be honest, i —” 

“beomie?”

oh, he’d recognize that voice anywhere, even in his sleep. his head whips around almost comically fast and he unintentionally yanks his hand from his date's as he stands straight up.

“w-what are you doing here?” he asks, incredibly flustered.

you should say something, but your eyes can’t help but linger where his hand was joined with the hand of the very lovely girl sitting beside him, even after he’s pulled away. oh my god. you’re interrupting, aren’t you? he’s moved on, but you’re standing there like an idiot. you need to say something. 

“i-i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to intrude,” you choke out. you don’t know why, but you feel like you’re about to cry. you feel so embarrassed. why did you even for a second think that this would play out any differently? 

“everybody out,” beomgyu says firmly. 

“what?” his date asks, genuinely in shock.

“i said, everybody else needs to get out of here. right now. besides you,” he says while gesturing to your pitiful frame.

“gyu, i live here,” yeonjun argues.

“out,” beomgyu repeats. yeonjun lifts his hands in surrender and leads the bewildered girls out of the apartment. 

now it's just you and beomgyu.

after the door shuts, the silence is as unbearable as it is palpable. beomgyu is staring at you with the same intensity as he was the night he confessed to you. you feel so vulnerable — so seen — you honestly kind of wish you had just snuck out with everyone else. 

“beomie, i’m so, so sorry. i didn’t mean to ruin your date. i can go, i just —” 

“do you know what i've noticed about you?” he quietly interrupts. you’re so taken aback, you’re stunned into silence. he sighs before he continues. “the way you say things are okay when someone fucks you over. it’s okay to be mad at me, you know?” 

“beomie, i’m not mad!” you insist. “you’re single, after all. i’m the one who —”

“i’m single, but i still told you i loved you a few days ago. why wouldn’t you be hurt?” once again, you’re left speechless at his maturity. when did he become more mature than you? or was he always this way, and you just never noticed?

“or is it that you just don’t care enough about me to be upset?” he's the one who looks small now and you worry you have the power to break him. he deserves an honest answer, so you think about how you felt when you saw his hand intertwined with that girl’s and your heart feels a nasty pang. 

“i… i am upset,” you pause and process that ugly feeling. “really upset, actually. but not angry.”

“i’m sorry,” he says, not without conviction. “yeonjun needed a date for his date’s friend, and i planned on rejecting her, but i’m really sorry i hurt you.” 

“... it’s alright,” you say carefully. “i understand. and i still think you don’t owe me anything, beomie.”

“but i want to owe you,” he says quietly.

“what do you mean?” you can’t help but ask. 

“i want to owe you. i want to make it up to you, and i want you to make it up to me.” you think you understand what he means. he wants you to make it up to him for not seeing him as he truly is all these years, but you just can’t understand his thinking.

“why?” you ask softly.

“why would you ask when you already know why?” he answers quietly with a sad smile. because he loves you.

“but why? why do you like me? you could have anyone. i’m wishy washy, i’m insecure. i’m just a mess, beomie. and i don’t want you to waste your time with me.” you hate the way your voice shakes. you wish, for once in your life, that you could be brave enough to say what you need to say without hesitating. you feel as small as a child, and in front of beomgyu of all people. but the dynamic you’ve always thought you had is becoming more and more twisted as you realize you’ve been very, very wrong about him, and maybe about yourself, too. beomgyu is not some kid. his feelings are not so easily written off, and that becomes even clearer when he says his next words in a haste. 

“don’t talk about yourself like that,” he says sharply, and his seriousness immediately derails your train of thought. “i’m not looking for anybody else. i… i don’t want anybody else. and i would never, ever feel like my time is wasted with you. every moment i spend with you is important to me.” you don’t mean for your eyes to get hot. truly, you don’t, but the boy’s words are so kind you’re unable to control yourself. 

“you really love me?” you ask at the risk of seeming annoying. you just have to be sure. 

“i do,” he says patiently. “i always have.” he isn’t sure what to make of you asking this. he has no hope now, but if it makes you feel better to hear him say he loves you a million times over, so be it. you’ve been hurt enough all your life, from your parents to your partners, if he’s able to comfort you even just a little bit, even if it’s never reciprocated, it’s enough for him. so he continues. 

“i’m… i’ve always thought about how to say this, so i’m sorry if it’s just too much for you. if it is, then just stop me, okay?” you can’t help but nod. “i just have to say that, to me, you are the most beautiful person in the world. i’ve wanted to tell you that since i was 14. i know you’re sad and i know you’ve been hurt before, and i wish i could take it all away. i’ve always wished i could take it all away. i know you think you deserve everything that’s happened to you so far, but i want you to know that that's not true, and it kills me that you’ve ever felt that way. i love everything you say you hate about yourself, because you’re you. i know you want to change, and i want you to know that i see how hard you’re trying. those flaws that make you a mess, or however you put it, only make me love you more because i can see how hard you’ve worked to get where you are. and if you don’t love me, even if you never do, that’s… it's okay. i just want you to be happy. and if i can be selfish, i want to be the one who helps you get there.” 

you don’t try to stifle your tears anymore. they are now flowing freely and your breath is heavy in your throat. he understands you. he sees you for everything that you are and were, and everything that you’re trying to be. has anyone ever made you feel this safe before? has anyone ever made you feel this loved and understood? 

you think back to what jia asked. when you didn’t have anyone else, who could you count on? if you didn’t trust any man in the world, you could trust beomgyu. that’s just how it is. you realize, even from the first night you met him, you’ve always been relying on him, in a way. why else would you feel so comfortable telling him about your anxieties mere hours after you spoke to him for the first time? 

things were one way then, but they could be different now. beomgyu loves you in a way that previously seemed inconceivable to you. what did you do to deserve this boy — this man? not a fucking thing, in your opinion, but now that you know how he really feels, is it possible to accept anything less than the love he is now presenting to you? maybe he’ll wake up one day and regret everything he’s said up until now, but you’re far too selfish to give up the heart he’s begging for you to take as your own.

you don’t know why, but you fling yourself into his arms, reminiscent of how you did all those years ago when he was just a teenage boy and you were just a heartbroken girl. he holds you like he did before, with an overwhelming sense of patience and security. he traces his hands lovingly up and down your back. 

“okay. okay, i want to try. i can’t promise that i’ll be perfect, i can’t even promise to be good, but i’ll try, okay? you’re so, so good, beomie. and i'm sorry for not realizing it sooner.”

he pulls away from your embrace and your cheeks feel hot when you catch his heated gaze. he looks down at you and if his look wasn’t enough, his next words certainly are:

“can i kiss you?”

“yes, beomie,” you whisper. 

"call me gyu," he says hoarsely. you gulp and pray he doesn't hear it.

he softly, reverently, pushes your stray hairs behind your ears and you realize he’s done so many times before. mainly when you were sad, but this time is… different. when his lips lock with yours, you're stunned into oblivion. there's so much fire behind it, but still, there’s a gentleness you’ve never known. as if he’s afraid of breaking you, he holds you like you’re a precious gem. usually, kisses are take take take from you, but he gives you so much love and care you feel like you’re floating. is this what love is supposed to feel like? so safe and so, so warm? 

he parts from you far too soon for your liking. his breath is labored and his cheeks are flushed. you look at him in confusion.

“i-i’m sorry, i just can't. if we keep going, i won't be able to control myself. i'm gonna —” 

“it's okay, gyu,” you whisper. “we can keep going.” he understands what you mean without you having to say anything more.

“are you sure?” he asks, just to be safe.

“i'm sure,” you answer without missing a beat. his lips curl up and he leads you to his bedroom, hand holding yours so tightly, it’s almost like he’s afraid to lose you.

-

the night is spent with beomgyu praising you like he’s never seen anything quite like you before. you feel his devotion with every passing moment and you can’t believe this is what you’ve been missing all these years. you’ve never felt so good, so cared for, in all your life. when you’re finished, and he’s cradling you in his arms, you’re both struggling to catch your breath. he looks at you like you hung the moon, but what you don’t know is that you’re starting look at him like that, too.

-

you’re so anxious. as you pull up to the choi’s family home in the passenger’s seat of beomgyu’s car, you can’t help but wring your hands together. this could be very good, or very, very bad. you can’t help but feel like you’re… betraying? the choi family by dating beomgyu. they’ve taken you in as family, but you’ve taken beomgyu as your own. do you regret that decision? well, you can’t say you do when beomgyu grabs your restless hands and comfortingly squeezes them before telling you “hey, it’s alright. don’t be nervous. i love you. they love you. everyone here loves you. just be yourself and i’ll take care of the rest, okay?” 

“okay,” you say shyly. you and beomgyu have been working on your self esteem. it was pretty slow going at first, but you’ve been pushing through. now, after three months, you’re a lot better, but there’s still room for improvement. beomgyu is nothing if not patient, though. after all, he’s been waiting for 8 years. how could he not be? and so he patiently coaxes you out of the car and into the house.

you two find your way inside and are greeted by his parents, jia, and yijun. nobody bats an eye at you two walking in together — they just greet and hug you as per usual, but their smiles drop and their faces turn serious when beomgyu announces he has something to tell everyone.

“guys, uh, we have something to tell you all,” he says, lacing his fingers with yours, “we’re together now.” you could hear a pin drop with how quiet the room is. mrs. choi is the first to break the silence.

“h-how long? how long has this been going on?” 

“three months,” he says cautiously. again, the room is silent.

“... only three? damn it!” mr. choi exclaims.

“i told you guys it hasn’t been very long,” jia sneers. “now pay up.” beomgyu’s parents grimace while pulling out their wallets and stuffing cash in jia’s hands.  

“pleasure doing business with you,” she teases with a shit-eating grin.

“um, guys? what’s going on? i’m kind of pouring my heart out over here,” beomgyu says irritatedly. 

“oh, honey. we know. we’ve known you liked her since she first stepped foot into our home. she was the only one who didn’t,” mrs. choi replies with a wave of her hand and your cheeks can’t help but heat up to an impossible degree. beomgyu finally pieces everything together while you’re still scrambling to understand what’s going on.

“oh my god, did you all make a bet to see how long it’d take for us to get together?!” beomgyu exclaims.

“more or less,” mr. choi says nonchalantly. realistically speaking, you and beomgyu should be angry, but all you two can do when you lock eyes with each other is laugh. 

“so you’re okay with it?” you ask meekly.

“of course we are!” mrs. choi says. “we couldn’t ask for a better match for our boy. we were just waiting for you to see that, too.” you can’t help but feel your eyes go sour. you hug his parents and they rub your hair. why would you think they’d do anything other than accept you? they always have.

that night, after all the board games and movies and laughter, you go out for some fresh air. you aren’t surprised in the slightest to see beomgyu sitting on the back porch steps, almost as if he’s been waiting for you. 

“there you are,” beomgyu says with a grin blooming on his face. you sit next to him, so close your thighs are touching. you lean your head against his shoulder and you sigh in contentment.

“that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asks.

“not at all,” you smile, “but did everyone in the world know about us besides me?”

“pretty much, yeah,” he giggles and you playfully smack his chest. after your laughter dies down, beomgyu senses some hesitation from you. it feels like you want to say something to him.

“what is it?” he asks. you pull away from him and stare into his eyes. they look especially starry tonight.

“i have to tell you something,” you say, voice trembling slightly.

“mhm?” he nods.

“i think… actually, i know i love you, gyu. and i’m sorry it took me so long to get here, but i really do.” your eyes water when you see beomgyu’s doing the same. he looks so relieved, as if your words in particular are the ones he’s been waiting for all his life. and they are.

“i love you, too, if you haven’t guessed that already,” he says softly. “and i’d do everything all over again if it meant i’d get to be with you like this.” his eyes close and he leans in. you meet him halfway and press your lips together in a chaste kiss.

notes pt. 2: and that's it for them! i actually wrote a bit of smut for this, but i don't think it'll ever see the light of day i fear. as always, feedback is appreciated! i'd love to know what you all think :)

masterlist

[rizsu]

let me in ( please ) manjiro, ran.

sum. when they fuck up & now are locked out of the house

mikey and emotions do not mix well. they're like oil and water. mikey is a victim to various emotions he has no knowledge on how to handle. you can think of him as a baby who has no idea how to express different emotions so they start crying. and just like that, he said his piece of rather colorful words and left before it got worse.

it takes nothing but a simple stroll around the area and some icecream bars to cool mikey's head. during his little freedom, he did some intense self-reflection and replayed the argument to analyze. three minutes of sitting on the park's bench and he came to the conclusion that he was in fact wrong. he one hundred percent overreacted.

all for his own defense, he thinks that it can be justified. crossing his arms over his chest, mikey nods in agreement to the imaginary audience. they too agree that it can be justified! even if it was but a stupid moment of him letting his negativity roam in his mind and became insecure.

mikey walks towards the door, crunching every leaf in the way to calm his nerves. he's spent at least twenty minutes practicing his apology speech. he cannot afford to butcher it. gripping on the door's knob, he tries to unlock it but to no avail, it did not work. this cannot be real, he amuses himself. mikey gives it another try. maybe it was just a jam in the knob? no. he gave it two more restless twists but god's grace was not on his side today.

“where is my phone?!” he's confused. he swore he shoved his phone into his pocket but it's not there!? patting his torso and sweatpants to feel for phone's frame, panic's tide rises in his body. he's half a second away from running into the middle of the road.

and on your side, you're watching this go down through the door's peephole. right now you may or may not be holding the very phone he's looking for in your hand. trust, you would grant him access to your shared home but this is too hilarious to give up.

the click of the door's lock on your side succeeds in getting mikey's attention. he watches like a hawk marking its prey's home, waiting to see if what he wants is behind the other side. biting at his lower lip's skin, mikey patiently awaits for you to come into display.

you swing the door open and lean on its frame. swaying his phone in front of him, you tease, “looking for this?”

mikey, relieved, tries to grab what's rightfully his but fails. there's no way you're going to give him this so soon.

“not so fast, manjiro. aren't you forgetting something?”

mikey takes three cartoonish blinks. he genuinely does not know what he forgot. tilting his head to the side, he looks around trying to remember what he could've possibly forgotten. oh right, the apology!

“'m really sorry. forgive me i know i acted like an idiot.” he speaks. mikey hopes you can tell he's being sincere. he's not one for apologies at all—which is easily known by his body language. he's rocking back and forth on his feet while playing with his fingers—almost replica to a child getting scolded for eating all the chocolates.

you try your hardest to not cackle. being able to witness the ‘invincible’ mikey awkwardly apologize feels like a gift from your ancestors. it may as well replace the definition of neuron activity.

“you're lucky i love you. come in.” tilting your head, you gesture for him to enter paradise. you didn't miss the way he clasped his fist whispering a “yes!” to himself. you really do love this loser.

pop-up quiz: if you lock ran out the house, would he:

a) go buy gifts to appease you.

b) demand that you open the door.

c) fight the tears and travel to rindou's to clear his mind.

d) none of the above.

correct answer? d) none of the above. see, if you dare to think you can get rid of ran you are just loud and wrong. you can't rip ran off of your skin even if you got the creator of earth to do it. he's like a flee.

he's a little on the lazy side which results in him barely caring for anything which also results in his nonchalant attitude in arguments. what happens when he just says to calm down? getting locked out until further notice. do not let this fool you, ran will, by any means necessary, make sure that you're not mad at him—even if he must guilt you in the process. ran can live alone but he's grown too attached to let you slip through his fingers.

like the fool he is, ran came up with the master idea of staying in the courtyard as he sets up his scheme. he has a plan, he just needs a platform. feeling mischievous, ran waited until four in the evening to begin his performance. dailing your number, he waits for you to pick up. the moment you do, he reads the script written on his palm.

“hey...still mad at me?” “yes. goodbye.” “WAIT—i'm sorry, unlock the door please?”

a moment of silence alongside a heavy sigh from you tells ran that chapter one: act one was successful. reeling out the hose, he quickly attaches it to the pipe before turning it on. taking large steps to the front door, he hides the hose behind the door as you open it.

“missed you. i'm shivering, would let me in?” coating his words with honey, he plasters a pleading look on his face. surely this would work..right..? yeah, no. you feel your anger bubbling again. for what and why would he bother you with this nonsense.

“what the fuck are you talking about? the sun is very much there.” you point towards the sun, completely finished with this idiocy.

“no, baby...it's not...” raising the hand that's holding the hose, ran turns the sprinkler effect on as he frowns. him suffering out in the real (fake) rain must hurt you. you know how he easily gets sick.

well, that's what he thinks. you think this is absolutely stupid. the scenario of ran, standing under the hose as it soaks him while the sun has yet to set truly makes for a good spongebob episode.

“ran, put it off. now.” demanding that he finishes his act, you publically judge him. although this is so stupid that it's hilarious, you don't want him to flood out the entire front yard. he's done enough to be let in the house.

“but do you forgive me, my love?” “RAN.”

ran chuckles to himself. chapter two: act two has been successful. dragging the hose back to its original position, he cleans up before entering your home but ran still feels mischievous. so what does he do? purposefully give you a tight back hug so that you can be soaked too but masks it with the excuse of “i really missed you.”

when ran isn't practically decomposing in bed, he's the most childish man ever.

[jenniferjareauwife]

Hello! Please could u do JJxreader (not a bau member) where they have their first time but reader struggles cos of sh scars. Lots of comfort & fluff pls <33

You Never Have To Hide From Me

pairing: jennifer jareau x fem reader

category: smut

warnings: scissoring, self harm scars

word count: 1019

summary: request above

JJ squeezed my hand as she led me to her bedroom, doing quite poorly at hiding her glee. The top three buttons of her shirt were already unbuttoned from the make out on her couch.

"Come here." She pulled me in for another deep kiss, smiling into it as she gently pushed me onto the bed, taking her shirt off eagerly, not daring to break the kiss. I tangled my hands in her hair, grunting as she slid her knee between my legs. "Can...I...take this...off?" She asked between hungry kisses, thumbing at the collar of my shirt. I hesitantly pulled away from the kiss, wanting to say yes. I wanted this so bad and it was evident that she did too. "Is something wrong?" Her voice softened, sensing my hesitance.

"It's just um..." I tilted my head to the side, feeling her gaze on me.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to baby." She whispered, kissing my cheek while pushing my hair to the side gently.

"No no, I want to do this it's just...there's some...marks?" I didn't really know how to put it but I hoped she would put two and two together.

She was silent for a moment but I felt it click inside her head, she gently grabbed my chin to turn my head towards her. "It's ok." She whispered sincerely.

"It's just no one's ever seen them before so I don't know what you're going to think." I blurted. "I don't want to mess this up." She shook her head with a soft smile, planting a kiss on my nose.

"You're not going to mess this up my love. There's nothing that would make me run away." She assured. "I love you, I love all of you, that includes the hard times." She kissed my nose again. "I want to be here to support you, to assure you that I'm gonna be here no matter what." I nodded, my heartbeat slowing down a bit. "But we don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"I want to do it." I nodded eagerly, starting to unbutton my shirt before she gently pulled my hands away and did it for me, looking me in the eye the whole time.

I wasted no time in grabbing the back of her head and pulling her in for another heated kiss. I gasped as JJ pushed her knee further against me, the friction as I slightly lifted my hips up feeling too good. "Off." I whimpered.

"What?" She mumbled against my lips.

"Off pants off." She smiled and laughed before backing away from the kiss to unbutton her pants. I stared at her breasts which were now on full show in front of my face.

"Like what you see?" She teased.

"Mhm." I let out a small moan, reaching out to take them in my hands, softly squeezing them, forgetting that she was now getting completely naked right before me until I looked down. I completely froze. She was magnificent. My right hand dropped down to her thigh, slowly drifting higher and higher until I had a grip on her ass.

"Not so fast my love." She chuckled, reaching down to unbutton my pants. I lifted my hips so she could pull them down faster, too dazed to do anything else.

"Please." I whispered, not wanting to wait any longer. I don't think I had ever needed anything more than I needed this.

She ran her fingers along my stomach scars, gently kissing each one before kissing up to my neck, holding eye contact the whole time. "JJ please." I tugged on her hair needing more. She just chuckled against my neck, sucking and biting as she lined herself up with me, grinding slowly. I couldn't help but moan, it felt too good.

"Yeah? You like that?" She mumbled, one hand reaching down to trace my scars again. "Feels good?"

"Mhm." I couldn't think straight, I had never felt anything like this before.

"You're so beautiful like this." Her teeth grazed my pulse point, causing me to arch up into her.

"Jesus- fuck."

"He's not here right now baby." She chuckled. I gripped her waist tightly, pulling her against me, needing to feel all of her. "You make such pretty noises." She whispered in my ear, small moans escaping her lips. She was close. "So gorgeous. All of you." I felt warmth spread through my body at her words and she noticed. "Oh you like that don't you?"

"Mhm."

"You like being praised?" My head fell to the side, pleasure coursing through me. I was so close, so fucking close. "You're doing so good baby. Being so good for me." I let out a half moan half whine, my body reacting out of control with her words. "You're so beautiful, every inch of you." She sat up slightly, her hands grabbing just above my waist on each side, her thumbs caressing the edges of my scars.

"Jayje...I'm so close."

"I know you are baby. You're so pretty like this."

"I'm so close." I repeated, my eyes fluttering shut, I sensed her smile, her speed picking up, hips stuttering every so often. She was close too.

"You're gonna come with me alright?"

"Yeah- yes please." I reached for any part of her body, just wanting to feel her. "I'm so close."

"Me too baby...come with me...now." She let out a gasp, her hips stuttering as she chased her high. My back arched up, a loud moan escaping my lips, the feeling almost overwhelming.

Once the feeling was over we were both panting, she was staring down at my body with a blush. "You alright?" Her voice was soft again, thumbs going back to caressing my scars, making me even more relaxed.

"Mhm. Never better." I smiled lazily, not being able to give her anything more at the moment.

"You never have to hide from me." She whispered as she relaxed her body on top of me, her face inches from mine. I just gave her a small nod. "I love you."

"I love you too."

[cressidagrey]

I breathe flames each time I talk - Chapter 1

Summary:

The story of how Oriana Fireborn Belmont finally meets her mate's family.

Also the story of how Rhysand, The High Lord of the Night Court, finally recognises that by the cauldron, there is no fury like a female scorned.

Azriel would just like everybody to get along.

Warnings:

Rhys Bashing, Serious Injury

Notes:

I put a lot of world building into this. If you don't recognise it from canon, I probably invented. Or I forgot that canon existed.

(thanks to @firefly-graphics for the super pretty dividers!)

There weren’t many things that shocked Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court. The sight of his brother, brutal bruises painting his face after what should have been a simple retrieval mission in the Winter Court… that did it. 

It had been supposed to be a meeting to exchange intelligence on whatever was currently going on with Tamlin in the Spring Court. 

Instead…it had apparently turned into…a mess . 

“I was caught in an avalanche,” Azriel said, his voice harsh. “Rhys, I told you that it probably wasn’t gonna end well. There was nobody there…and that avalanche wasn’t natural.”

Nobody but a trap waiting for Azriel.

That was the last thing that he wanted to hear. Peace in Pyrithian was hanging on by a thread, somehow seeming all the more precarious to Rhys, ever since Nyx had been born. 

Maybe it was the instinct of a young father…maybe it was something else, but he couldn’t dare to not trust them. 

And so he had wanted to keep his allies close, but the ones that kept away from it all…even closer.

“Right. And I told you that this was important,” Rhys responded just as sharply. “I’ll write to Kallias. And you should probably do something against the blood that is currently dripping on my carpet,” he said pointedly. Azriel wiped at his split lip. Rhys opened his mouth to tell Azriel to go see Madja damnit, but Azriel beat him to it.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” Azriel’s voice was dripping with disdain, and Rhys opened his mouth to respond, but Azriel’s shadows were already converging onto him. 

Mother help him. 

His brother was gone, shadow travelled away, before Rhys had even dismissed him. 

He sighed as he sat back down at his desk, fingers tapping against the dark wood of it. 

There were so many moving pieces and so little time. 

And still, his mind turned towards his brother. Not Cassian, who seemed as content as Rhys had ever seen him with Nesta in the House of Wind…but Azriel . 

Azriel, who had, ever since that Solstice nearly 3 years ago, pulled back from him. Who had still not forgiven him for what Rhys had done. 

At the start, Rhys had thought that Azriel would get over himself in a few weeks. 

Azriel was infatuated with Elain. It would be a few weeks and then it all would be back to how it was before. 

Oh, but he had been so wrong. 

He had not been wrong about what he did. He hadn’t. 

Rhys had done what needed to be done.

They couldn’t afford a fucking war with Autumn and/or with Day or a blood duel that would be called because Azriel had wanted to…had decided that seducing Elain was his fucking right . 

It wasn’t, it hadn’t been, it never would be and Rhys had needed to stop that from happening. 

So he had. 

So he had ordered his brother away from Feyre’s sister. An order, not from one brother to another, but from The High Lord of the Night Court. 

Azriel had…listened. 

The question was just if the price Rhys paid for it, hadn’t been far steeper than he had realised. 

If the prize hadn’t been his brother’s…happiness. 

Azriel hadn’t rebelled against the order. 

And at the beginning…Rhys had seen that as…well, as another point in his favour. If Azriel was really in love with Elain, he would have fought against the order. Azriel hadn’t. So Azriel had been infatuated, but not in love. 

Azriel had done nothing. Azriel had stayed coldly detached. He had even attended the wedding of Elain and Lucien, nothing but sincere words for the happy couple. Not a mention of what had gone down between him and Rhys…to anybody. 

Elain was happy with Lucien. So especially now, when they were married for close to a year…when it was clear that the mating bond had worked out for them…Rhys had expected Azriel to soften. At least a little bit. 

To realise that what Rhys had done was right. To understand why he had done it. 

He had waited for that. And waited. And nothing of that sort had happened. 

Azriel hadn’t budged one inch. Maybe Rhys shouldn’t even be surprised about that. Azriel had always been…stubborn as a mule.  

Azriel did his work. Efficient as always. But Azriel only came to as many family dinners as Rhys outright ordered him to attend, and otherwise kept away from anything that was…well, personal. 

His mind, which had once been an open book to Rhys, few secrets kept between them…nowadays it was guarded. An iron wall around it, slamming down whenever Rhys wandered even just in the direction of anything that wasn’t work-related. 

Azriel kept quiet. Kept on moping after three years, regardless of how much Rhys tried to draw him out of it. 

Morrigan finding Emerie and being happy with her…Rhys had thought that maybe that would pull him out of it. But Azriel had only wished her all the happiness in the world, sincerity dripping from every word. 

He was sincerely happy for everybody around him…and kept Rhys and the rest of their family as far removed from him as he could get them. 

Rhys had tried to order him to come to dinner with Elain and Lucien, a part of his mind hoping that Azriel would finally have enough and his temper would flare, his magic would crackle and he would attack Rhys. Maybe then they would be able to clear the air. Maybe if Azriel just got pissed off at him…maybe it would be better afterwards. 

Azriel didn’t. His temper stayed even, especially for him. He sat through that dinner, even let Lucien have a few barbs at him and then even helped him, even when nobody thanked him for that. 

And then Azriel disappeared to cauldron knew where somewhere which he clearly much preferred over the presence of anybody else these days. 

That had been a few months ago. It hadn’t changed any since then. 

Cassian tried to play the mediator of sorts between them. Cassian tried. Cassian teased Azriel about a non-existent lover and Azriel took it in good humour, only shutting down the theories when they were outlandish. 

Or when it was Gwyn. 

Rhys had really thought that that…that could have worked out. 

If Azriel just gave her a chance…if he just opened himself up for the option of it…but Azriel was as stubborn as a mule. Azriel wasn’t interested, that was so very apparent when he had slipped into his brother’s mind. He liked Gwyn as a friend. But there was no attraction there. 

None whatsoever. 

And even the suggestion had been shut down by Azriel so harshly, that there was no question what he thought about this. 

None. 

Azriel had cut him out of his private life. Built a wall around it that kept Rhys out…and Rhys had no fucking idea how to bridge it anymore. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Master is coming. It was the only warning she got because then Azriel was already materialising in their kitchen. 

“ Sweetling .” It only took her seconds to take in the bruises painting his face, the blood that was dripping down his split lip…Seconds for her to fit herself under his arms, to half drag him into one of their kitchen chairs. 

It wasn’t the first time that Azriel came home to Oriana bleeding and hurt in some way. Though most of the time, it was things that she could patch up easily. She couldn’t do anything against the bruises, but she could clean out scrapes and ply him with pain potions. 

But today, his usually olive skin was nearly ashen-faced, his jaw tight as she got him to sit down. “You don’t look good,” she said quietly. 

“It’s fine,” Azriel promised her, his voice rough as gravel and she cupped his cheek, turning his face. His eyes closed as she very gently prodded the scrapes at one side, the split lip…the dried blood. 

“It’s really not fine,” she disagreed. “Anything else?” 

He shuddered, hands clutching the fighting leathers he still wore. He started taking it off, and she took over from him after just a few seconds, sliding the buckles open, taking off the leathers, piece after piece. 

His torso was painted every which shade of blue and black, violet…maroon. 

“You should have seen a healer,” she said quietly. It looked… excruciating. She couldn’t say if there were any broken bones. It didn’t matter. It must be painful anyway. So painful. 

“I missed you,” he murmured, closing his eyes as she wet a clean dish towel at the sink, making sure that it was warm and gently started cleaning the blood off him. The split lip stopped bleeding sluggishly after a moment. 

“Still should have seen a healer,” she quipped.

"But then it would have taken longer until I came home," he responded, even through his pain and she sighed.

He didn’t even flinch away from her touch, even when he had every fucking right to it. If anything, he leaned into it. 

Leaned into the pain that she was sure she was creating, even when she tried to be as gentle as she possibly could be. 

“What happened?” she finally asked quietly. He didn’t often talk to her about his job. Nearly never. Whenever pushed either, because this was nothing that he needed to know. This was nothing that she needed to be aware of. This was a line he had created because he didn’t want her to touch any of his work that was so very….so very harsh.

She accepted that because she knew that for him she had become a sort of island in the middle of everything, untouched by it. 

And it was better that day. She didn’t wonder what he did. As long as he came home to her. That was all that mattered. 

“Bad intelligence. Got caught in an avalanche,” he murmured. “I knew it wasn’t going to work, but did Rhys believe me, of course not,” he muttered under his breath. Since they had consummated the mating bond…Azriel had opened up to her, in some ways. He still knew more about Oriana’s life than she would ever know about his past, but she knew that it didn’t mean that he didn’t love her. She knew that for him it was difficult to open up because he expected everybody around him to use any knowledge about them to hurt him. 

Still, Oriana wasn’t stupid. And she had put together her own version of Azriel’s past through all the snippets he had shared with her. 

And so she knew that Rhys and Cassian were his brothers. And that Rhys was short for Rhysand and that that was the fucking High Lord of the Night Court. 

Who was still as annoying as he had been two centuries ago. 

And somebody that Azriel both loved and also loathed sometimes, especially when he decided that he knew better than everybody around him. 

Cassian…Cassian seemed more interested in who Azriel was seeing romantically than anything else if Oriana could believe the stories Azriel told. 

Hyacinth had been the latest possibility. Hyacinth had found the whole thing hilarious and spent the last night out dancing teasing Evander with it.  

“I think this calls for an early night,” Oriana said as she handed Azriel one of the pain-reducing potions that she kept stocked, watching carefully how he rubbed his temple. 

She got out the salve she had bought at an apothecary a few weeks ago, squeezing some of it on her fingers and carefully kneaded them in Azriel’s neck, just there where his neck met his skulls. 

He shuddered, though she knew that the heat the salve created would loosen the tightness that he had there in his muscles. He could get horrid headaches. 

She had learnt that too since the two of them lived together. Like a whole other list of details, like that he loves every form of berries he could get away with, his sweet tooth was so bad that on occasion he ate lumps of sugar straight out of jar…he absolutely adored doting on her in that quiet, calculated way of his and he had a real problem with giving up any sort of control in the bedroom. Her pleasure seemed his singular goal, his own just a byproduct of it. 

“You are the best thing that ever happened to me,” he murmured, pressing his head into the soft flesh of her belly. 

He found so many different ways to say I love you than to utter these three words to her. 

You are the best thing that ever happened to me. Coming home to you is the best part of my day. Every time I wake up to you, I am so grateful that you are there. 

Sentence after sentence, said in that earnest, sincere way of his and Oriana squirrelled every single one of them away, like precious gems. 

“Better?” she asked and he hummed. “Alright. Eat some of the sandwiches I made and then we’ll go to bed.”

That’s what they did. 

He collapsed into their bed, and she pulled the blankets around them, careful not to tangle them in his wings, gently running her fingers through his hair. She had only cut it for him a few weeks ago and it was only just starting to curl again. She was quite sure she had done a hack job at it, but he had seemed pleased with it. But then she was sure she could dye his hair bright pink and make him completely bald on one side and he would still kiss her and tell her thank you.

She pressed a kiss to his head, and then she fell asleep herself, no more worry about Azriel being somewhere else, because he was right there, next to her. 

It was his retching that woke her up. 

She immediately reached out, feeling his skin burning up underneath his fingertips. 

“Azriel?” she asked quietly, hearing more retching, immediately sitting up to find him leaning over the edge of their bed. 

“Sorry,” he was shuddering as he brought out the words and she opened her mouth to respond, but by then she saw the blood that was trickling out of her mouth, another sound of retching and then he fell to the side like somebody cut all the string that held him up. She managed to catch him at the last moment, her eyes wide, ice-cold fear clawing at her heart. 

She could see the shadows dancing around him worriedly, taking her weight from her, helping her to get him to lay back against the pillows. 

She could hear them call for him, but getting no response.  

“Azriel!” she tried, panic apparent in her voice and getting no response. 

He was unconscious, knocked out. After vomiting up blood. She had never seen anything like that. 

She cursed. 

Master is hurt, The shadows stated the obvious. 

She jumped out of the bed, tugging the first best dress she could find over her head, forcing her feet into shoes. 

“I know. Can you bring me into the mountain?” she asked the shadows. Alternatively, she would need to get out of her ward boundaries and winnow to the ward boundaries of the mountain. 

We can, Mistress.

“One of you stay with him, please,” she requested, holding out a hand for the shadows, as she cleared her mind as best as she could, taking one last back to Azriel, so pale, so still, and then thinking as intently as she could of their living quarters in the mountain. 

It was a whole lot less smooth than when Azriel did it for the two of them, but then he was the shadowsinger, and Oriana was only his mate. She could ask, he could command. 

But they were willing to listen to her, to drag her through wards she had placed on her own, to take the magic that she offered them and turn them into the strength they needed as they flung her across Velaris and shoved her into the mountain. At least it felt that way. 

She landed in their private living quarters, surprised to find Kiran, Toron and Samson sitting there, playing cards. And drinking. The scent of Fireale was unmistakenly

“She’s really here, I am not just seeing things, right?” Toron said, sounding like he had definitely drunk more than a little bit of their self-brewed Fireale. 

“No,” Kiran muttered. “That’s Oriana. What are you doing here? Where did you come from?” her older brother demanded, slightly slurring. 

“Are you drunk?” she gave back because she had never seen him quite like that. He just shrugged. Samson still stared at her wide-eyed, waving his hand in her direction, like he wasn’t quite sure if she wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

“Where’s Enya?” she demanded. She really didn’t have time for that. 

“Working,” Samson answered, nodding sagely, and nearly tipping to the side. 

Thank the cauldron for that at least. “Great,” she muttered, flinging herself in the direction of the door.  That was something. She was going to check the infirmary first, and then Enya’s bedroom, when she wasn’t there. 

She knew these halls, knew the mountain better than anything else, and so it only took her minutes, before she reached it, pushing open the door without even bothering to announce herself.

“Oriana?” Enya asked, sounding shocked, having risen from her chair as Oriana came running. 

“I am kidnapping you. I mean I hope you come willingly but otherwise, I am kidnapping you,” she blurted out, the shadows coming to a stop behind her. “Enya, I need your help.” 

It spoke of her sister's unflinching trust in her that she only rose and reached for the bag that she kept stocked behind her desk and grasped her coat. 

“What happened?” she asked, as she came around the desk. 

“He vomited blood, Enya. I don’t know who else to…He was fine and then he wasn’t and he lost consciousness and…” she blubbered. the panic that she had tried to keep at bay, threatening to overwhelm her. Azriel. Azriel . 

“Let’s go then,” Enya answered, turning in the direction of the door, but they didn’t have time for that. She grasped her sister’s arm,  letting the shadows take them both. 

Home. Home. Home. 

They landed in the bedroom, Oriana staggering at the impact, the shadows trying their best to keep her upright as Enya looked like she had lost all colour in her face, her skin was the same black colour as Oriana’s own looking decisively grey. 

“If you vomit, I am sorry,” Oriana forced out, pulling in a harsh breath on her own.

“What was that?” Enya asked, staring at the shadows that swirled around the room, then at Oriana, then at Azriel, on whom the shadows seemed to converge. 

“ Shadowsinger ,” she breathed and Oriana just stayed silent. Managing a nod. 

Yes. That. 

They were stupidly rare. She herself had done a double take the first time she had met Azriel. Nearly mythical in nature. She had never once met one before. So shadow travelling…like she had just done…dragging Enya through two sets of wards, was highly unlikely. She knew that. 

But her sister shook herself out of it, already taking in Azriel with an analytical glance, crossing the room, her hands slightly glowing. 

“You, sit down at his head,” Enya snapped. “I don’t need you fainting while I try to work.”

Oriana did as her sister asked, knitting her fingers through Azriel’s short curls, her whole body shaking with fear and nervousness that suddenly seemed to make an appearance. She didn’t even know where it was suddenly coming from. 

Just that it slapped down onto her heart, as she swallowed to keep tears at bay. 

She had gotten Enya here. She wasn’t alone. She had done that. Azriel was getting help. 

So why did it feel like her whole world was caving in around her? 

Her sister’s magic was so unlike her own, thanks to the High Fae ancestry that Enya didn’t have. But Oriana knew it, had felt it move around her own more times than she could count. It was safe. she knew that. 

“He has inner bleeding. Quite extensive,” Enya said quietly and Oriana forced down the panic that wanted to rise in her throat. 

Enya’s eyes met her own. “It will be fine,” she said quietly. “He will be fine, Oriana.” There was promise there in her eyes, glowing like coals in her face. “I swear to you. He’ll be fine,” she repeated again. Oriana just nodded, closing her eyes. 

It was all she could do. 

She kept quiet as Enya worked, pouring whatever potion her sister told her down Azriel’s throat. She tried not to shudder at the sight of blood-flecked metal as Enya worked, Azriel’s blood all over the sheets of their bed, all over her dress where it had dripped down. 

Time seemed to stretch and warp and finally, Enya stepped back. 

“I am going to bandage him…and then you’ll need to let him go because I going to put him into a healing trance. Just for a day,” Enya said quietly. “Are his wings gonna be alright with him laying on them?” she asked, and Oriana managed a nod, carefully stretching out the wings so they covered the bed. They seemed strangely cold to her touch, not moving like they usually did to respond to her touch. 

“Thank you,” she whispered as she worked, as Enya gathered up the blood-soaked linen that Oriana knew she was going to need to boil to get the blood out.  

“Of course,” her sister responded. Oriana pulled up the ugliest blanket she had ever seen from the end of the bed, covering Azriel with it, straightening out his arms and then leaning forward to press a kiss against his forehead. She could feel the even, deep breathing of him, the warm puff of air…the pulse underneath her fingertips…

She stepped back. Enya raised her hands and the whole bed was enveloped in a green dome just seconds later, burning brightly for just a moment before settling in a subtle glow. 

“He’ll be fine,” Enya repeated. “You saved his life with your quick action.”

“No, you saved his life,” she corrected her sister.” “Thank you. You didn’t need to do this.”

She really hadn’t needed to. She hadn’t needed to let Oriana and the shadows drag her into Velaris.  

“You married Wynstan for me,” Enya said at that moment and she stared startled at her sister, who grasped her hand in hers. “You endured decades of being married to that idiot for me. You lost your ability to have children, just so that I wouldn’t need to get married.” She opened her mouth to protest but Enya shook her head. “This…” she waved to Azriel. “This…. This is the least I can do for you. He’s yours, Oriana. He’s family .”

She swallowed.

“It’s not your fault,” she finally whispered. “What happened…it’s not your fault. It was on Wynstan. It was on…Enya had saved her life. She had done everything she could. But even Enya hadn’t been able to…

“I know,” Enya said quietly. “Still. You always wanted children.”

She had. When she was young, she had wanted them. And then she had married Wynstan and first, he had wanted to wait, to finish his mastery, even when Oriana would have been fine with starting to try immediately. And then when he finally wanted kids, their marriage had been more than questionable. Questionable enough that OOriana didn’t want to put a child anywhere near it. Didn’t want to give Wynstan anything he could yield as a weapon against her. 

And then he had taken even the option from her. 

“I made my peace with it,” she said softly, watching Azriel lay there, still, silent, but gloriously alive. She hadn’t had any other option. Still, when she saw Cyyrus with his three children, so close in age, a miracle in itself… “He doesn’t care,” she finally said quietly. Azriel didn’t care. “I don’t think he thinks that he could be a good father,” she said softly. She thought that that was the main reason why he didn’t care that she couldn’t give him children. Why he was so alright about it just being the two of them. He seldom thought that he even deserved her. “But he would be. He would be the best. ”

“That’s not the only way to have children, you know,” Enya said quietly. She knew. Under the mountain, adoption was… if there was a child in need of a family, that was never a problem. But they had rules for that kind of thing and one of the biggest ones, the unspoken one, would be that the child would be raised in the community in the mountain. 

“I know. But that only works in the mountains. Not out here,” she said with a shake of her head. 

Enya watched her for a moment. 

“You know…if I have learned anything then that…Fate has a funny way of working. If you are supposed to have a child…Fate will provide. One way or another.” 

It was a nice thought. 

“And now, we need to get some alcohol into you, because you look like you are going to faint,” Enya said briskly. “You keep Fireale around?”

“I don’t think Healers are supposed to be proponents of alcoholism,” Oriana said weakly, but her sister just ignored her, dragging her into the living room and depositing her on the couch.

“I am not a proponent for alcoholism, I am a proponent of you not fainting,” Enya said drily as she pushed a glass filled to the brim into her hands. “You aren’t feeling it, but you are shaking. And your magic is leeching all over the damn place,” Enya said pointedly and Oriana stared in front of her, only now seeing the sparks that seemed to come off her. 

The shadows around her throat pressed gently, just a touch, never constricting. 

Master will be fine, Mistress. Thank to you and the healer.

[fan-goddess]

Chapter Five: Loving your husband

Catch up on the fic here!

Chapter Summary: You’ve arrived at your new home, and Abraham it seems has already decided on how he wants the night to go. But will your anxieties stray him away from his original plan?

Authors Note: Thank you to everyone who’s been on this Abraham journey with me! If not for your support I wouldn’t have had the motivation to finish this! So thank you again my loves ♥️♥️♥️♥️

Taglist: @valeskafics, @omgbrcat @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity @anjelicawrites @lexwolfhale @helaenaluvr @scarletbedlam @tssf-imagines @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @arcielee @targaryenbarbie @ilikechocolatemilkh @tumblin-theworldaway @skintoskinsstuff

Warnings: Nicknames, dirty talk, p in v sex, teasing, kissing, soft at fuck, teeth rotting, angst, f oral, consent checks, praise kink, breeding kink, probably an incorrect description of a virgin losing there virginity, (if I miss any let me know!)

“I think, if it’s alright with you little, we continue what you left me with at the stables…”

You lean into his touch eagerly, and yet you cannot deny the familiar mix of anxiety and sadness that wallows in your stomach at his words alone. Guilt rising steadily up your throat and bubbling within your whole body.

It’s so obvious though that Abraham can clearly see it in your eyes alone. To him, they appear glaze over in thought so deep that it’s only when his thumb softly grazes your bottom lip, do you snap out of your trance.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, an unfamiliar look of sincerity on his face.

“It’s nothing…” You murmur, but still, Abraham appears unconvinced. Especially with how he grips your chin firmly to force you to look at him whilst your mouth opens in a silent gasp.

“No no no, none of that little one. Tell me what’s wrong, or I’ll have to make sure I punish it out of you. And I don’t think I want to be doing that to you on our wedding night.” His whole body practically oozes with confidence as his words are purred with such dominance, that at that moment, you can’t help but deny the feelings his words seem to have ignited within you. You can’t help but think about how his words haven’t made you want to withhold your answer for just a little while longer, just so you can witness what this so called punishment would exactly entail. Still though, the underlying guilt that had clawed its way from your throat earlier wins your minds inner tennis match, so even if you didn’t want to say it, the words still can’t seem to stop themselves from spilling out of you quickly like water from a broken pipe.

“I’m a coward…” You mumble, eyes looking as far down they can while your hands clasp onto Abrahams wedding jacket that you’re surprised he hasn’t taken off yet, given the fact you’d assume he’d get uncomfortable being in such fancy clothes for such a long time. “I couldn’t admit to my feelings to you in the stables, and I ran from you when I shouldn’t have. I’m so sorry Abraham…”

An uncomfortable silence rings through the air, only broken by the deep breathes coming from yours and Abrahams chests. Yet you can’t help but lightly gasp at the sudden feeling of Abraham’s hand tightly clasping your body and his lips leaving a firm kiss on your forehead.

“Don’t you dare be sorry little one,” He whispers deep into your skin, and you can feel the emotional undertones underneath his words as they effectively manage to pour themselves over you. “I understood. I was… inconsiderate when I told you about how I felt about you. I didn’t think about your own feelings. How my words would affect that pretty little head of yours like it did. I’m sorry for being a massive fucking idiot who only thought about themself.”

Abrahams silent as he allows you to continue to hold him and think. That is however, before you pull him down into a deep kiss, and somehow in his moment of shock, manage to push him against the nearest wall and hold him there without a single murmur of a fuss.

“We’re both stupid…” You murmur against his lips, his own mouth though eager and embarrassingly enough really fucking desperate for a taste you, as he tries to reclaim his earlier dominance. Even though he can’t deny how much your uncharacteristic act of confidence has affected him. Especially with how he finds himself unable to ignore the harsh ache radiating from his cock that you gave him.

He tries to ignore it though to the best of his ability by making sure he kisses you back fiercely. His tongue sneaking itself into your mouth to caress your own in a wet and hot kiss, so that by the end of it, the two of you are red cheeked and breathless. Practically panting into each other’s mouths as you admire each other’s broken down selves.

“So fucking beautiful…” He murmurs, giving you one last but deep kiss on your lips, before he all of a sudden grabs you while you shriek in surprise. You cannot see where the two of you are heading, but you can’t deny the fact thatyou very much hope he’s leading you to where lies his -no, the both of yours’- bedroom.

You give the room a once over as Abraham places you surprisingly gently on the bed, and you can’t help but feel genuinely surprised by what you see. For one, it’s actually clean. The bed you could tell looked pre-made before he’d put you down, and there were no dirty clothes flung about the room like most other boys rooms seemed to have. If you could you’d have observed longer, but Abraham makes sure to quickly drag you from your thoughts once more as he dots wet kisses along the curve of your neck, most likely leaving marks with how fiercely he’s currently claiming you.

He doesn’t even stop his assault on you though as he murmurs another a question to you, but that doesn’t mean you don’t hear it. If anything, you can’t help but think it’s the clearest thing he’s said to you all night, and it leaves your lower half tingling in anticipation. “Can I undress you?” He’d murmured, stopping only to look at you with those intense blue eyes of his that leave you utterly desperate for more.

You nod, too worried that you’d let something unsavoury slip if you dared opened your mouth. But Abraham it appears is less than pleased at your lack of an answer, as in retaliation he lightly bites at your collarbone, drawing a sound from your lips you didn’t even realise at first you’d made.

“I won’t accept that answer little one. Answer me. Speak.”

“Y-yes you can undress me husband…” You say, and from his reaction, it was exactly what he wanted to hear. He pulls you up slightly so he could reach the back of your dress where all the complicated buttons for your dress lay to be conquered, and by the way Abrahams face was slowly turning red and his brows were furrowing, he was definitely not having a very successful time conquering. You can’t help but giggle at how the situation has turned, but his fierce stare turns to you suddenly, and the laughter quickly dies on your tongue.

“Oh you think this is funny do you?” He growls. His fingers once softly touching your back now gripping the delicate fabric with no thought to your possibly discomfort, which to be honest was anything but that. “I’m trying to be good… so don’t you go about tempting me to just rip this thing off and take you where you lay. You don’t deserve that treatment… not this early at least…”

You whimper at his words, and yet the imagery of what he could do to you hits you hard and fast. While you were innocent in body, you were certainly not exactly innocent in mind. Flashbacks of a younger you gasping and giggling with a hand over your mouth at the lewd tales of what men and women do, hidden within the back shelf books of the adult section.

“Are you listening to me doll?” Abraham murmurs, biting slightly on the reachable skin of your chest to draw you from your thoughts once more. It seemed your brain was all over the place and unable to stay in the moment you most wanted to be, much to your own annoyance. “I can’t be good for you if you can’t even bloody listen to me.”

“I’m sorry…” You whisper, eyes closed as you relish in his almost sinful feeling touches. “I’ll be good, I swear!” You shuffle yourself away from him slightly and carefully manage to unbutton the mass of buttons on your back, trying hard not to giggle at Abraham face while he looks at you in disbelief when you manage to take the white dress off your body and place it carefully on a random chair within a few minutes. “See!”

You move your hands in a mock sort of demonstration, and yet Abrahams eyes are not on them. They’re very clearly on your breasts, that are currently naked and clear for him to see and ogle at to his hearts content.

“You say you’re a good girl, but here you are, braless. I don’t think good girls do that sort of thing darling. Only naughty little girls who let any kind of fella fuck them do that. But you aren’t one of those sorts of girls, are you little sweetling?” His words drip with sweet nectar, and like an innocent bee you’re lead straight to it all too easily and naively. His touch alone on your now bare skin feeling practically electric and addictive. Even his words practically make you dizzy. It’s all so overwhelming you almost forget what’s expected of you tonight. You almost somehow manage to forget that tonight, you’ll be losing your virginity to him.

You can feel Abrahams hands and lips giving pure devotion to your uncovered breasts. The whole act leaving small gasps leaving your lips when he bites down slightly at random intervals, leaving you completely on the tip of your toes. It’s a completely intoxicating feeling you never want to stop.

Only you’re so caught up in the feeling of pleasure Abraham provides you, mixed with the anxiety of the night, you don’t feel his lips beginning to kiss down your body, leaving small marks in his wake as he makes his way to your underwear. That is where he stops though and looks back up at you with hooded, almost predatory eyes. So dark it was if you were looking at the night sky, all the possibly constellations old and new included.

“Look at me.” He commands, your anxieties and previous thoughts stripping away the moment you make eye contact with him. “Now tell me. Clearly. Can I take these off you?”

“Yes…” You say almost instinctively. Like you didn’t even need to think about it at all. Though as Abraham is about to take your underwear in his hands, you can’t help yourself but ask Abraham your own small question.

“Can’t I see you though?” You whisper, looking up at him with such innocent eyes that it leaves Abraham seemingly speechless as he practically gapes at you from bellow. You almost believe he didn’t hear you the first time, and are about to repeat it for a second, when he responds with a very enthusiastic, “Of course!” before moving to undress himself. Every item of clothing that he strips himself off leaving your mouth wider and wider open.

By the end of it, when he’s left in front of you in only his off-white boxers and his golden chain that hangs around his neck, and you’re practically breathless and shaking as you lay there half naked yourself. Your eyes unable to look themselves away from him as you make sure to admire every single part of him with your eyes. You can’t help but notice how the chain contrasts almost sinfully against his skin, though what really takes your interest, is the tattoo on his back you see when he turns around. The tattoo that had brought your such invigorated attention to him barely even two months ago.

“What’s the meaning?” You find yourself asking. Watching as a pauses and tried to peer at his back to see where it was you were looking while his back was to you.

Like you had thought to yourself earlier, compared to the other tattoos it was definitely softer. Especially since how now you could really look at it and admire it. Abraham sat half naked in front of you back to your chest, and your hand seems to almost move to touch it instinctively. Too curious in your nature to think about asking permission to touch him. Though you definitely noticed the way his body seemed to shiver at the feel of your skin on his.

It’s a lily, you eventually realise looking at it more closely. A Lilly of the valley flower.

“I got it when my mother left.” Abraham explained. The warmth of his back rumbling under his words. “I never resented her for what she did. I understood it. But I just thought, if she can’t be here with me, then at least she could be here someway or another...”

Unlike the unnerving and uncomfortable silence from before, this time it’s layered with a deep underlying sense of trust and devotion. Yet even still, too worried about a hidden meaning for it and what could be going on in your pretty little head, Abraham is all too prepared to turn around and look you in the eye. That is however, before every thought in his head manages to pause, once he feels your soft warm lips kissing the inked flower so softly, that he could barely feel it. Your hands, being the delicate things they are, rub up and down the right side of his body so tenderly he almost thinks clouds have fallen into his and your bedroom.

Yet still, as this is all happening so quickly, he cannot deny how it’s made him feel. How with a slight wave of emotion coming over him, he realises how your actions have made him feel so loved so quickly.

“Well it’s beautiful…” You murmur, laying the side of your head on his back as you move to wrap your arms around his torso. Even smiling against his skin as you feel Abrahams arms tightly hold onto yours with a possessiveness only he could provide you with. “You’re beautiful…”

This time, Abraham is able to sense the comfort in this bout of silence that the two of you bask in, and how the sound of his and yours breath, as well as the feeling of the both of yours’ hearts beating in your chests, is easily the most relaxing feeling in the world.

The two of you have no idea how long you were basking in each others holds, but the only thing you do know, is that Abraham very nearly scares you to death when he turns around suddenly and kisses you so deeply you almost let out a noise of shock. He kisses you so deeply in fact though that he pushes you easily so you fall with your back to the bed, and his frame is hovering over you, trapping you against him, not that you minded of course.

His tongue swipes at the entrance of your mouth and you open it cautiously, though you definitely can say you’re surprised with how much you find yourself enjoying the feeling of his tongue caressing yours. Unlike earlier when the two of your were focused on the action, you realise now that you’re able to bask in him whole, you can taste the whisky that he drank earlier on your lips and tongue. But it’s mixed with a smell that’s just so Abraham, that you can’t really define it as anything else. You’re not lying when you tell yourself that your husband seems to be addictive in every aspects of himself.

His hands appear to rediscover your body with a new sense of passion, as there’s not a single patch of skin that isn’t soon touched by Abrahams fingertips. His lips leaving small pools of spit with how long he makes sure to kiss and worship the skin, small murmurs of affirmation following after each time. By the end, your skin felt as if it was on fire with it all. So warm and sensitive with each word from his charm cursed lips. You had no idea Abraham was such a sweet talker, but like all other aspects you’ve discovered of his, he’s mastered it flawlessly.

Though when Abraham eventually gets to your underwear once again, he looks back up at you with if possible, even more lustful eyes than before, and repeats the very same question he’d asked earlier. “Can I take these off you?” To which you eagerly nod and verbalise your agreement, sending Abraham into what you could only describe as being a frenzy.

His hands eagerly rip off the underwear off, throwing them somewhere in the room blind as his eyes widen looking only at your lower half. You try to lean up to see him, but one of his hands quickly moves to push you back down onto your back so your eyes can only stare at the ceiling above you.

Yet even so, your eyes find themselves quickly shutting as you suddenly find yourself absolutely immersed in pleasure. Abrahams fingers you can feel to your surprise, tracing against your leaking pussy eagerly, and with obvious experience, as he seems to already know where to stroke and where to give special focus too. The feelings he provides only heightening when a single finger of his is pushed slowly inside of you, prodding something of yours deep within you that leaves your hips somehow already wriggling to get closer to him, to the addictive pleasure he provides you with. The books you had looked at when you were a teenager certainly hadn’t ever talked about this…

Yet when you feel something else down there, you quickly realise it to be Abraham’s tongue on you, and that’s when you feel like you’ve gone absolutely mad. You can’t hear yourself, but later on that night, Abraham will tell you how your voice went so loud, so wanton even, that he almost needed to place a hand over your mouth in fear that your parents, who mind you lived on the other side of the caravan sight, would hear you. He’d say it with such a smug face you couldn’t help but smack him with a pillow, drawing a chuckle from the poor man who mocked an injury.

“Fucking delicious…” You hear him grunt, mixed with the embarrassing sounds of your own wetness, and you feel your face turn a whole new shade of red from it all.

It’s a different feeling you have bubbling in your belly from the one you felt when you rarely would pleasure yourself in your bed. Yet this is a hotter feeling somehow, and a thousand times more intense. So intense even, that you feel your hips judder and jerk away from Abraham’s hold, to which he merely tightens his hands to lock onto your skin and makes his movements faster within you.

You feel your eyes beginning to roll into the back of your head and as it all begins to go quiet, you can feel your thighs begin shaking, cramping even from the way you try to clench them harder around Abrahams head to keep him where he was, in fear for some unknown reason to you he’d move away. Though when you try to tell him what it is you’re feeling, it’s almost as if he already knows. Only chuckling with a mocking amusement when he hears your pitiful attempt at words and going back to what he was doing. Making you feel utterly complete and meaningful.

When you feel what must be an orgasm shatter through you, it’s like a blinding hot pleasure is travelling throughout your whole entire being. Your lungs feel as if they’re about to collapse with how hard you try to bring the air you’d lost back into your body, and your legs begin to make you wince as they start to ache slightly. Though when you make eyes with Abraham after you somehow manage recover, you feel your air go right back out of you when you see him looking at with such hunger, such desire, that for once in your life, you felt wanted more than anything.

But with the way Abraham finally pulls down his underwear and reveals himself in all his glory too you, you’re very much fiercely brought back to the thoughts of your earlier anxieties.

Oh my god how big is that thing!? You think, your mouth no doubt hung wide in shock at the size of his… thing.

“I take it by your reaction that your pleased with what you see?” He teased. His smirk dripping in smugness and carelessness, as if he’s had the same reaction before. Has he had the same reaction before?

“Well, there isn’t exactly a lot for me to compare it with…” You tease back, smiling slightly at the way he shrugs and laughs in a halfhearted agreement to your words.

Yet he quickly gets over it, and a familiar look of seriousness spreads on his face which to your surprise, manages to send a wave of arousal through your body so strong you feel the need to shut your legs and hide from him. Yet when you try, strong rough hands clench almost dutifully around them and forcibly pries them open.

His eyes burn holes in you as he makes sure to take his time admiring you, and the way he can visibly see your juices and your cum dripping out of you. It almost makes him loose it and go insane there and then.

“P-please Abraham.” You beg, flushing red from the shame of it all, and the way he brings you so out of character, it’s almost amusing. You never would have thought back when you were thirteen that you’d be married to Abraham and laying in his bed, eagerly awaiting for him to fuck you. “Please…”

You’re obviously a bit hesitant on saying the exact words, but there aren’t exactly any nicer ways of begging him to have sex with you. Though it seems to your relief that Abraham is all too delighted in helping you through your worries.

“Say it…” He murmurs, his lips practically scorching as he leans down and kisses random patches of your skin. “Say how much you want me… I won’t fuck you until you say you want me too. So say it little one, and I might spare you some undeserving mercy.”

You gasp, and you can’t deny the way your breath hitches in your throat, and the way your fingers itch to bury themselves in Abrahams hair. The same way your lower half seems to ache in need for your husband. The man you can’t help but seem to have found a deep sort of affection for.

“Please Abraham…” You murmur, unable to stop the words from spilling from your lips. “Please… fuck me.”

Soon as you utter those words, it’s as if Abraham becomes a man possessed. His lips turn harsh as they suck deep marks once more into your skin, and his fingers turn equally brutal when they dig tightly to hold you in place as he grabs his cock with one hand and cautiously moves it closer to your entrance. Which by now, you’d be surprised if he didn’t find you dripping with physical arousal.

His eyes stare into your own as he pauses himself, and they make you feel small as he practically towers over you like a predator to a defenceless prey. Yet somehow, there is still that rare softness within him that you find yourself loving, as his eyes manage to ask you a thousand questions.

Did you still want this? With a nod and a small reassuring smile, you manage to convey your answer of yes to him. “This’ll hurt. I’m sorry.” Is all he says before with a deep grunt, he slowly pushes his erection deep inside you, while you yourself hiss at the stinging pain that begins to harshly throb within you.

"Feels so good," He grunts, making sure he stops to let you adjust to his size as he rubs his hands up and down your sides as a sort of comfort. A thing you’ll realise is almost an exact mirror to what you did to comfort him earlier that night. "You feel amazing darling… you're doing so fucking well little one, that's it..." With every presumable inch he pushes deeper, he murmurs new words against your ears that make you feel as if you were floating above the heavens as pleasure envelopes you whole. That pain you were feeling earlier practically nothing compared to what you were feeling now.

You can't even find it within you the words you want to say to say to him at that moment. The only thing you find yourself able to do is moan and whine and plead wordlessly for more, as the familiar delicious feeling of pleasure bubbles slowly in your belly again.

"Please Abraham!" You manage to say, your eyes clenched shut as your legs wrap around his waist whilst his hips try so hard not to begin thrusting in you as fast as they can. "Please go faster!"

He groans a deep feral noise, and his hips begin to slowly thrust against yours. Slowly building up a pressure that begins to brew in your stomach the longer Abraham moves in you.

“So good!” You whine, addicting to the feeling he provides you as his own noises of pleasure do nothing but fuel your inner fire. “Please husband please faster!” You feel so uncharacteristically greedy begging for more, and yet Abraham seems all too happy to provide with whatever it is you ask for, little or small, as his hands turn harsh as they grip roughly at your hips, and he thrusts his cock into you so hard you can practically feel him in your stomach. It’s so much, and yet it’s so little compared to how much you know you could actually feel. For once those darn books helping.

“So good for me…” Abraham groans, his eyes screwed shut as he indulges himself in your warmth that consumes him. If he could, he’d live in this moment with you. The feeling of him just merging with you being the best thing he’s ever felt in his entire miserable fucking life. “Best little wife of mine I could ever fucking ask for. Maybe I should give you a baby… get you pregnant so I can see you round and full all because of me… would you like that little one?”

You let out a gasp, and can’t help yourself from clenching around Abraham tightly as the imagery slips through your head. The idea of months passing and your stomach being swollen and round with his child, driving you somehow past the point of known insanity. It makes your head spin and your thoughts loud with want.

“Yes Abraham I want it! Please do that please please please!” You whine, scream even, while your eyes screw shut once again like earlier, imagining the scene while he continues fucking you with a new found passion as the imagery also passes through his head as-well. It seems the both of you are all too eager for what the future could hold for the two of you.

Your nails scrape along the bare canvas of your husbands back, and you can feel his sharp intake of breath against your ear as he groans deeply and loudly at the feeling. His thick thighs smacking against your own with an audible sound as he thrusts deeper and deeper into you. You can even feel the slightly cold chain that hangs around his neck scrape delicately against your skin. Everything he does for you, purposefully or not, driving you absolutely mad, if you weren’t somehow already.

Your eyes feel as if they roll into the back of your head with how good Abraham makes you feel, and you swear your voice somehow manages to get louder as you feel the knot in your stomach tightening again like earlier, and your toes curling at the end of the bed. “I-Im so close Abe!” You let out, the nickname sounding so strange on your tongue yet also so right.

His face becomes somehow more furrowed than it already was as he hears your sighs, and his face becomes focused as he thinks of only making your words a reality.

“Gonna have you cum on my cock,” He groans, gasps of pleasure leaving your lips as he somehow manages to thrust his hips against you faster, practically pounding into you now. “Gonna fuck my cum deep inside of you, and leave you absolutely full and dripping of me. Would you like that little wife of mine?”

You can’t handle it as your face turns a whole new colour at the shame of it all, but still with a sick grin making its way on your face you find you like the shame of it all, and the way it feels as your husband pleasures you. The only thing you can really say at that moment, is that it’s absolutely fucking addictive, no doubt about it. “Yes yes yes husband I want your cum deep inside me! Please fuck me please fuck me harder I want it all!”

Your face burns, yet it’s nothing compared to the feeling of your whole body shutting down as your walls clench hard around Abrahams cock, while for the second time that night, you orgasm from your husbands efforts alone. And by the way Abraham himself groans loud and proud in your ear and thrusts himself as deep as he can inside of you, you can guess you’ve made him cum too.

Whilst the two of you are slowly regaining your breaths and allowing your hearts to slow, you can’t help but let a distinctive feeling of pride come over you as you realise you’ve managed to make a man cum.

In the most non-strange way possible, you can’t help but think how your mother would be proud of you right now.

“Are you alright?” You hear Abraham murmur in your ear, and when you turn your head to look at him, your mouth curves into an involuntary way when you see he’s already looking at you with such soft eyes, and an equally soft smile on his own lips. Fuck, he look so fucking pretty in your arms…

“Yeah…” You murmur back, a smile you don’t even realise you’re making clear as day on your face as you bask in your happiness. “Perfect…” You close your eyes, and all seems right as you listen to your husband’s breathing, and feel his warmth slowly consuming you. Absolutely everything in that moment feeling more perfect than perfect. Better than better. Greater than great.

“I love you…” You whisper, not even aware if he heard it or not as you find yourself falling deeply asleep in his arms that somehow had moved you to lay on his chest while he laid on his back. But if you had managed to stay awake, even for just a minute, you’d have seen the way Abrahams eyes watered with a single happy tear than ran down his cheek, and heard his own small murmur back.

“I love you too little one… so fucking much.”

[slavicviking]

Long Jump, Huge Leap

wc: 5k | Pre-Season 3 steddie

[Ao3]

Whoever said Eddie Munson doesn’t like sports is wrong.

One can dislike a candy bar, a type of soda, a likewise mundane thing that comes down to preferences. No, no. What Eddie Munson feels towards sports cannot be condensed into such a simple term. His body itself outright refuses to take part in any sport activity – sweat immediately pooling at his pits and back and ass, legs acting disjointed, arms too long and too weak to do anything of significance, except for maybe making a fool of himself. With that particular element of his P.E. experience helps his mouth which, funnily enough, is the only part of Eddie that runs quicker than anyone, especially its owner, can catch up. Not that the rest of his group feels exceptionally impressed with the skill presented.

Hawkins High doesn’t need a furry mascot for laugh-inducing entertainment when it has Eddie Munson.

“Munson, you’re in Hagan’s team.”

“Oh, for fuck’s-“

“Do not fret, little ol’ Thomas, I sincerely vouch to not dare touch the balls you play with-“

And as the usual song and dance goes, the ball is thrust directly into his stomach.

Several bruises left on his body and ego later Eddie decides it’s simply not worth it, he skips P.E. entirely – avoids it as if it were the ninth circle of Hell. It may as well be, he thinks. Uncle Wayne seems persistent to convince Eddie to try again but after a long and, frankly tiring, conversation the subject is dropped.

Until now.

Eddie stretches out his legs in front of him, the uncomfortable plastic chair digging into his spine and reshaping his already barely-there ass into a flat tire. It’s psychological warfare, it must be, because how else can one explain furniture that defies its primary function so well. Principal Higgins knew well what she did when she chose them to be placed in front of her office. Her own personal little torture chamber.

“The Principal is ready to see you now, Mr. Munson,” the secretary, a pretty blonde in her twenties, tries to smile at him but all that comes out as a result is a grimace stretched thin over her face. It dims further when Eddie stands up making the most noise he possibly could have with the chair sliding across the parquet.

“Sorry,” he says because he is actually sorry. For all his bold persona and jumping on tables, he hates the idea of bothering someone who absolutely does not deserve it. The secretary is nice, he can say that with confidence he’s gained over sitting in that damned red plastic chair too many times to bother counting. He also knows he can be a lot when seated in it – constantly twitching and shifting, mind all too self-aware of the pre-attached uncoordinated body.

Principal Higgins doesn’t look pleased to see him but when does she ever? Eddie personally believes they see each other often enough to be on first-name basis, or at least have this unspoken camaraderie between each other. He thinks the name Margaret would fit her. Tiffany? The only obstacle of their everlasting friendship he can think of is the boundless hatred she has for him. And he has for her.

“Mr. Munson, I’m glad you could join us,” she says, voice syrupy-sweet, so much so it clogs Eddie’s ears for a moment. She has a maroon sweater on today and Eddie thinks it complements the stark bags under her eyes very well. A white blouse ironed to the bone peeks out from underneath it, sleeves rolled up. It’s then that he notices Coach Collins sitting in the chair usually reserved for the culprit’s legal guardian. This is not a usual part of their – Higgins’ and Eddie’s – routine and so it throws him out of the loop a little.

“Please sit,” Higgins points to the only empty seat in her office. Eddie is glad, for what’s it worth, that the chairs here are leagues better than whatever monstrosity his ass still feels the imprint of awaits in the waiting room.

“It wasn’t me,” Eddie says what he always does as he sits down. The Principal doesn’t look any more or less impressed with the line than usual, only letting out a silent sigh.

“Mr. Munson, your attendance ratio in Mr. Collins’ class is abhorrent.”

 Ah. Rough and straight to the point, just the way he likes it.

“I might have missed… a couple of days,” Eddie admits, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. His eyes roam the intricate designs on the carpet. Surprisingly enough they look exactly the same as the last time he’s seen them.

“More like a whole semester, son,” Coach finally decides to take part in this excruciating exchange.

“Normally that amount of missed classes is enough to fail the grade but Mr. Collins was considerate enough to offer you a deal,” Higgins pointedly stares Eddie down as if wanting to force him to slide down to his knees and thank the Coach for the opportunity. As if ‘Mr. Collins’ didn’t turn his head at all the harassment Eddie has faced in his class to begin with.

“Uh-huh.”

“Sport’s Day is coming up. We’d like you to join us this year, Mr. Munson,” she adds, implying she very much would not like him to be there at all but some predestined script requires it. “I believe some teamwork could do you good.”

Yes. Because being stuck with the school’s entire jock population on the football field is somehow better than ten or so of them in a P.E. class. He’s going to die, for sure .

The thing is, he knows they are giving him an excellent out. Sport’s Day is sort-of mandatory, though he’s only attended it once himself. It’s a big event for the school that, in theory, is a great opportunity to let a bit loose and get to know each other. Except, as it often is, a certain part of the Hawkins High population deems themselves as better than others and what should be all fun and games turns puckingly nerve-wracking if you dare to not be pristinely perfect and screw up. Eddie had one attempt in 1982 and hasn’t stick in a foot or arm onto school grounds that day ever since.

“Right,” he says in the end, voice a little strangled. They both clearly take it as him agreeing and, well, he doesn’t really have a choice, does he? Unless he wants to repeat Senior Year again.

He doesn’t.

He really, really doesn’t.

So one full day of excruciating pain it is.

-&-

It’s hot as fucking balls.

The event hasn’t started yet but Eddie can already feel the sweat pooling all over his body. Students stand in small groups all around the yard and it takes him a long while before he spots the Corroded Coffin.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that Eddie Munson?”

“Yeah, yeah, yack it up,” he rolls his eyes at Jeff, eyes scanning the area for a semi-hidden smoking spot and finding none. It’s too risky, anyway. He lifts the hem of his shirt to fan himself. “Not like I had a choice.”

They all know about the quote unquote ‘olive branch’ handed out to him by the school but he can feel they’re surprised he decided to follow through with the spectacle anyway.

A long queue forms in the middle of the court, Coach Collins and Jenkins right at the top of it all along with Principle Higgins, each with a jar filled with differently colored strips of material in their hands. Even with no say in the matter, Eddie feels his hand sweating the closer he gets to the harbinger of his doom. Soon enough he will know who is going to make his life hell the next ten or so hours.

“Team yellow,” Collins tells him and gives him the appropriately colored ribbon. Eddie does a apathetic ‘woohoo’ with it before sliding off the side where his new team members reside. He ties the material loosely around his neck because he lives to disrupt the norm. Because fuck Collins.

“I don’t think it’s supposed to go there, dude,” Hawkins’ personal eye-candy, Steve Harrington, tells him upon arrival. Even in this horrid damp weather he keeps smiling for some unknown reason, no strand of hair out of place. He has his basketball uniform on – a simple gray shirt and, oh God, tiny shorts that expose those legs- Eddie snaps his head up so fast he’s surprised it hasn’t cracked and rolled off yet. Perhaps that would be the more merciful solution. A yellow ribbon is residing around Harrington’s sun-kissed bicep.

Great.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a great fan of rules,” he bites, hoping Harrington will just leave him be.

“I know. It’s your whole shtick.” So. That’s a no. Harrington shrugs.

“But sometimes rules are there for a reason,” he says and hooks his finger under the ribbon around Eddie’s neck to tug at it lightly. “To, like, not die.”

However eloquently phrased, Eddie begrudgingly admits – to himself, in his head, never out loud – that there might be a good point hidden somewhere underneath all that hair spray. He wonders if it were Hagan in Harrington’s place would there be a more hands-on approach to this warning. With Eddie being left strangled.

Quite possibly.

He’s not going to test that theory.

“Whatever his majesty wants,” Eddie says as he dutifully unties the yellow ribbon from his neck. And because he never knows when to shut up, he adds, “You don’t have to pretend to be nice, dude. I know me being in your team, like, disrupts your mojo, or whatever.”

Harrington is noticeably not smiling anymore. He doesn’t cross his arms though it looks like he really wants to. There’s a pinch between his eyebrows. It should not be attractive but, alas, Eddie is but a weak man.

“It’s supposed to be fun, man.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Eddie ends up mumbling, feeling out of energy all of a sudden. The queue of students doesn’t seem to be getting any shorter, not that it matters much because all his friends have been scattered throughout all the other teams. He moves to sit on the grass at the edge of their little Yellow group, legs spread out in front of him. The grass is dry under his palms as he leans back, and he wishes he could light an inconspicuous smoke. Even more so when a body slams into him.

“Jesus Christ, what the f-“

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” a girl yelps. “I was trying to tie my shoe but I have, like, no coordination so I kind of fell over you? I didn’t mean to do that, I’m so sorry. Balancing on one leg is so much harder than it looks. Like, honestly, how do cheerleaders even do that thing where they-“

“Whoa, hey, it’s fine,” Eddie jumps in before the girl – Robin Buckley, turns out – faints from lack of air. A yellow ribbon hangs limply off her wrist. Maybe it makes him a bad person but there is a sense of relief knowing he will not be the only ‘uncoordinated’ one on the team. Harrington is going to have an aneurysm for sure.

Robin blinks down at him, lips pulling down in a frown. “Oh, it’s you.”

Okay? Mean.

“Yes?” Whatever imaginary comradery Eddie hoped for seems off the table all of a sudden. Well, that’s a bummer. “Why the long face? Not happy to see a fellow nerd on the team?”

“You stepped on my sandwich last week.”

Ah. Well. That would do it, he supposes. The lunch break speeches… they sometimes get a little intense. Eddie gets a little intense, is what the rest of the Hellfire Club would probably say. Eddie’s shoes have been known to slam face – sole? – first into the best of what the Hawkins High cafeteria had to offer; which is not saying much, to be completely honest.

“My humble apologies,” he tries a little bow and hopes it comes off sincere. Buckley looks less than convinced. Tough crowd, what can he say?

“Alrighty, I think that’s all of us,” Harrington’s overly cheery voice thunders somewhere from above him and Eddie, like a moth drawn to a flame, has no other option but to look up. With his hands power-posed strategically onto his sinfully slim waist and the sun positioned perfectly behind him, Steve Harrington seems to have taken it upon himself to alter Eddie’s brain chemistry, braincells leaving left and right, leaking right through his ears, never to be seen again.

“You’re drooling,” Robin’s monotone informs him from his right and he promptly slams his mouth shut, even though he knows the claim is wildly exaggerated. Buckley may be the best or the worst person he’s ever met – he desperately needs to befriend her.

“First up is the relay-race. We need four people. Anyone up?”

Harrington is met with painful silence and that does dim the cheery smile a little bit. Eddie wonders if that is where the famous King Steve comes out of the hiding, all scary sharp teeth and disregard of basic human decency. He himself stills, for once not wanting to draw any attention to himself, feeling like a student who doesn’t know the correct answer which, not to brag, if you asked Higgins or any other teacher in Hawkins High, is something Eddie excels in. Curiosity, though, is a fickle thing and he’s fallen victim to it more times than he can count, and so when the uncomfortable silence drowns on, Eddie can’t help but take a look around to meet the Team Yellow, so to speak.

Fred Benson peers at him from his thick glasses. A group of scared freshman cower together. There’s a couple of band kids other than Robin Buckley who forgone glaring at the back of Eddie’s head in order to chew on her lip nervously and stare at the ground. Not a jock in sight.

Steve Harrington couldn’t have landed a worse team if he tried. Surprisingly he doesn’t look like he’s about to piss himself over it. Huh.

“Alright, well. I volunteer myself then,” he raises his hand. “That leaves three. Hm? Come on, it’s gonna be fun!”

Eddie can’t help it. He snorts. It’s loud and ugly.

“Well, I guess we have another volunteer,” Harrington preens and Eddie has to see who is idiotic enough to- It’s him, isn’t it? Harrington pulled out the classic teacher move and Eddie fell right into the trap.

“You do not want that, Harrington,” he tells him, trying his best not to show how much the intense eye contact from the jock affects him. It does not. It affects him even less when Steve juts out his bottom lip and tilts his head to the side like a goddamn Golden Retriever.

“Why not?”

“You’re going to lose?”

“It’s not about winning, it’s about teamwork,” Harrington trudges on stubbornly, sounding eerily sincere even while basically quoting every fake-cheery pamphlet in existence. It doesn’t matter how much Eddie tries to convince him it’s a bad idea – a terrible, awful, horrible idea – he doesn’t budge an inch like the stubborn asshole that he is.

“I’ll go last,” he informs Eddie and the other two unfortunate ‘volunteers’ once they reach the track.

“Hey, Harrington,” cuts a familiar voice and there’s Hagan suddenly all up Harrington’s business. “Ready to lose?”

To his credit, all Steve does is raise one eyebrow. “Did Hargrove tell you to come here, or what?”

Eddie appreciates balls on a man, literally and metaphorically, so this cheery but assertive combo is doing things to him that he is not proud of. There is a reason he avoided Steve Harrington for most of high school, and it wasn’t only because of the King Steve jock persona. Eddie may not have a good taste in men but he does have eyes.

“Whatever, man,” Hagan finishes off their little pissing contest in the meantime, strutting right back to Billy, both arms adored by blue ribbons. Harrington’s nostrils flare with each breath before he closes his eyes for a second.  

Eddie isn’t known to make wise choices. One would argue bad decisions run in his blood, screwing things up his very own a generational pattern.

“Uh, you okay, man?”

Harrington’s eyes snap open. Eddie should have never opened his mouth. With Harrington’s intense eyes on him, he feels like Icarus, flying too close to the sun. Steve smiles. Eddie is going to crush and burn any minute now.

“Yeah, sorry,” he keeps his voice light but there’s underlying tension that hasn’t been there before. His eyes appear almost glazed over when he looks over to Billy Hargrove. Eddie’s gut-instinct wants to pin the strange interaction on some jock-code that he is simply not familiar with but that’s not all there is to it. Eddie has fallen victim to the rumor mill many a time during his prolonged high school career and so he tries not to lean into them too much, even when the juicy news of a fight between the former and new king of Hawkins High broke out. One look at Harrington now and he knows, deep down, the impressive shiner on Steve’s face last fall has truthfully been Hargrove’s doing.

Doesn’t matter, really, because Harrington, emanating a true father-at-vacation energy, claps his hands together with too much enthusiasm. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road.”

Getting the show on the road, so to speak, is Abby, a freshman, who does not at all look very confident. Eddie cannot, for a fact, tell if the time passes too fast or too slow as the whistle toots and Abby is on the go, then Nigel, and then-

Eddie leans forward, bends his knees. Suddenly there’s a weight in his hand. Someone is screaming for him to ‘ go, go, go’ !

And Eddie does what he does best. He runs.

By the halfway point, his lungs are on fire, his legs feel like jello. His hair flies out of his bun and he can barely see but, he muses, he might as well try and actually finish something for once. And it’s not because Steve Harrington happens to be waiting on the other side. But maybe that’s a bonus. Who can tell?

The second his hand touches Harrington’s and passes on the stick, his legs give out from underneath him and he falls on his ass with a deeply unsatisfying thunk .

“Nice job, Munson,” says a blurry hand with a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” he says, or tries to, though it comes out slurred. A big swing of water helps.

“You okay?” Robin leans over him before taking a whiff of L’eau d’Eddie and promptly taking an out.

“Aw, I knew you cared, Buckley.”

“I just don’t want you to hurl all over my shoes,” she simply says.

Somehow they are not last. Eddie doesn’t know whether he helped at all or is it simply the power of Steve Harrington’s godlike legs that did all the heavy-lifting, but they finish off in second place, right after Hagan.

Eddie would never admit it out loud, not under threats of death, but it was…kind of fun. Satisfying.

“Eddie, you were amazing!” Harrington runs up to him, sweat pooling over his forehead and neck and Eddie has to stop himself from offering to lick it off.

“Hu-?”

“You never mentioned you’re this fast!”

“Because I’m not? Have you hit your head on the way here, or-?”

Something weird happens with Harrington’s face for a split second but it’s so quick Eddie doesn’t have the time to properly analyze it before he’s smiling again.  

“Not this time, no,” he forces a chuckle. “But you had fun, right?”

Eddie sighs, flops down on the ground to make it extra dramatic. Eyes closed, he reaches out with his hand to make a tiny gap between his index finger and thumb. “Maybe a little.”

A small laugh rings above him, this time genuine, and he hates how he can feel a lazy grin tug at his lips.

Eddie misses at least one round while he lays on the grass. It’s a blissful fifteen-thirty-forty minutes and he revels in it with every whiff of a colder breeze but by minute forty-two the ground doesn’t seem nearly as comfortable as it used to right after the race. The sun assaults his eyes the moment he opens them and he swiftly sits up, trying to shake off loose twigs and dry grass that have gotten entangled with his hair.

Team Yellow has seen better days. While Eddie lounged in the grass they have become a mass of sweat and red heat-swollen cheeks. Whatever disciplines he’s missed, he is glad he has. They are not last on the leaderboard, though – by what miracle, he cannot figure out.

“Eddie!” Steve Harrington, of course, has been spared the same treatment as his team. Hair slightly whipped by the wind and rosy cheeks, he looks as though he just about stepped out of a salon. A tattered yellow-white-blue volleyball sits against his hip. “Just the guy I was looking for. You willing to give it a try?”

Eddie is not.

Not under any normal-adjacent circumstances anyway but Harrington is, consciously or not, giving him his best rendition of puppy eyes. That and Eddie can feel a heated gaze located on the back of his head coming coach’s way. No matter how tempting, he cannot afford to screw this up.

So, in the driest monotone he can muster, Eddie says, “Been waitin’ for that my whole life.”

“Cool,” is all Harrington says before his achingly warm fingers wrap themselves around Eddie’s wrist and tug him towards the court. Buckley is already standing by the net, sending Eddie a miniscule smile of encouragement when he settles on her left, Harrington just behind him.

“Was worried you were a goner by now,” Gareth calls from the other side of the net, a green ribbon tied to his wrist.

“Nah, you know me, Gare-bear,” he flexes his non-existent biceps. “I'm prime material for the next super athlete.”

Someone – Harrington – chokes and coughs behind him. Eddie refuses to look, contribute to the hot and sticky flush of embarrassment that settles over his organs like slime. He has a reputation to uphold, though, so when Gareth raises his eyebrow, silently asking if he is okay – in this team, with King Steve, here and now – Eddie simply rolls his eyes and conspicuously whispers ‘Little Miss Primadonna’, their little nickname for King Steve back in the day.

He doesn’t like how instead of feeling lighter he just feels sick afterwards.

A resounding whistle starts the first set.

Eddie has forgotten how violent and competitive volleyball can get. He jumps away every time the ball comes anywhere near him, Harrington’s sweaty body miraculously appearing right there and then to save the day. It’s maybe the first time today that he can see blips of annoyance on the jock’s face but then as soon as it appears it smooths out and Steve graces him with yet another smile.

“You don’t have to be afraid of the ball,” Harrington off-handedly tells him in-between sets.

“Yeah, well, you tend to start feeling a little bit wary about it after you’ve been hit in the face a few times,” Eddie can’t help but bite back. Harrington looks sad all of a sudden, as though his friends haven’t been the ones to attempt their best at making Eddie’s face concave. He can’t help but yelp when a hairy mass – Steve’s arm – settles over his back and shoulders.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” Harrington teases but there’s a sincere note in his voice. “I won’t let any balls come near you.”

Harrington – blessed, innocent, Harrington – is thankfully too straight to realize the innuendo he accidentally made but Eddie is most definitely not, face red as he mumbles under his breath ‘I mean, some balls are fine.”

Thankfully he does not hear that either.

Steve keeps his promise with surprising accuracy; no volleyball flies anywhere near Eddie and Harrington is always close by. Which should not bring as much comfort to him as it does. Especially considering Eddie still is unable to figure out why – why is Harrington this nice? Why does he care about Eddie at all? Part of him worries it’s all an act, a grand performance by one King Steve, with a grand finale that promises pain and humiliation right at the crescendo.

Nothing happens.

Well, they lose. Spectacularly. One game, then another, then a third one.

Amid this disaster and despite them being the singularly least athletic team possible, Steve Harrington remains an encouraging and patient captain. Not once does he yell or complain when the majority of the team scrambles away from the ball instead of towards it. Surprising, when Harrington has spent years under the wing of Coach Daniels as the Hawkins High very own basketball team captain.

“You’re good at this,” Eddie thinks out loud, promptly pursing his lips because he did not mean to actually say it. It is in particularly bad self-preservation taste to give a jock more ammo.

“I promised,” is all Steve says with a wink. And for a second, a blink-and-you-miss-it, his eyes go up and down along Eddie’s body, and- But that’s impossible. Harrington is not- He wouldn’t have-

It’s a preposterous cherry on the wild-buck cake he’s been offered today. There must have been a ball hurled his way at one point or another, punching him into another dimension that is similar enough yet decidedly feels a little bit off at every step. He’s rooted in his spot like the idiot that he is. What finally breaks him from the self-induced coma is what caused it in the first place - his ears catch the melodic tune of a Harrington laugh and, just like that, from feet above the ground he falls back to Earth, popping like a balloon with a gun.

For all Buckley piss-poor attempts at appearing done with it all, she sure looks chummy with Steve Harrington all of a sudden, and he does with her as well. It was foolish, stupidly childish, to assume the jock’s attention was for Eddie and Eddie alone.

Harrington pulling out his patented charm with Buckley the same way he did a second ago with Eddie feels like a light stab in his chest. What twists it is them looking Eddie’s way, red cheeks and mirth in their eyes, and letting out a short but audible laugh.

“I’m telling you, dingus.”

 “God, shut up,” but Harrington laughs as he says it, even when he elbows Robin right in the boob.

Dead-set on keeping his eyes on the ground, Eddie tries to move past them. He doesn’t get far.

“Hey, Eddie, I’m trying to convince Robin to go for tug of war,” Harrington tells him for some fucking reason.

“No way, dingus.”

“She’s stronger than she looks,” he adds, poking Buckley in the bicep-less arm. “From carrying that tuba around.”

“Trumpet.”

I haul up the amp at every Corroded Coffin show, Eddie wants to say – would that impress you?

He’s pathetic. He’s fallen from the high pedestal he self-appointed himself at – above the bullshit popularity contest and suffocating do’s and don’ts of small-town’s high school lore – right at the feet of the walking and breathing representation of everything he resents about how the world works, and-

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbles.

A good smoke is exactly what Eddie needs right now. Fill his being with nothing but puffs of smoke. Students and teachers and even some parents roam around the school grounds but his trusty spot behind the gym is free of the intruders. Two cigarettes in, he refuses to feel sorry for himself any longer.

He’s not going to dwell on something that was a pipe dream to begin with. Not too long anyway. Whatever. He’s fine.

He is .

Steve seems wary of him when he gets back but he brushes it off as well as he can and gets in line behind Fred Benson instead. It’s long jump time.

“Robin’s pretty cool, right?” comes a voice behind him. Eddie yelps.

“Jesus Christ, warn a guy.”

Steve has the audacity to look a little sheepish, hand going to scratch at the back of his neck. “Sorry, man.”

Silence.

“Turns out we have some things in common,” he says, then. And stares. For a long time.

“Okay?”

What does he want Eddie to say? You have my blessing? Congrats?

Steve looks slightly discouraged from continuing his ventures but seems willing to trudge on, for whatever reason. “Maybe-“

“Munson, you’re up!”

Oh, thank God .

Eddie may not be the fastest or the strongest but he has years of avoiding bullies under his belt. That is to say, if he wants to avoid someone, he will find a way to become, well, not invisible, but unreachable at the least. It does not help that at this point he understands Harrington’s newfound obsession with him even less. Maybe for a second Eddie could have thought that – well, that doesn’t matter.  

By hour eight and with only one event left, Eddie feels pretty confident he’s going to survive the whole thing after all and not even be on the losing team somehow. That is until Coach Jenkins announces the farewell match.

“Dodgeball! Yellow against blue,” and whistles loud and clear, no room for complaints.

It all goes surprisingly well until it doesn’t. Until there’s a ball flying his way. Until he faceplants into next week.

Of course it’s Steve Harrington who insists on patching him up in the nurse’s office. “I’m the captain,” he says before anyone else can offer. Not that they were people scrambling to do so, really.

“I’m sorry,” Harrington adds when an icepack settles on the side of Eddie’s head once they arrive.

“What for? ‘Far as I can tell it wasn’t you who threw that,” Eddie narrows his eyes. “Right?”

“No, of course not, Eddie, I would never-“ Steve stops himself and Eddie wants so badly to point out that he ‘would ever’, in fact he ‘did ever’, but that would be a lie. King Steve never stooped as law as the likes of Tommy Hagan or other low-esteem high school bullies. King Steve was always above it all, too high and mighty to bother with mundane shit such as head shooting a nerd with a basketball in P.E. or offering a swirlie. Doesn’t make it right, doesn’t make him any less of an asshole for standing by and watching it happen.

But Harrington hasn’t been King Steve for a while now, has he?

It’s morally questionable. It’s confusing.

Eddie thinks he might be having a concussion.

“I promised,” Steve says instead, and Eddie is really even more convinced a visit to the ER is going to be necessary because- “That I wouldn’t let any ball come near you.”

Ah.

A strange oath to so stubbornly hang onto all things considered.

While Eddie struggles to find an appropriate response Steve decides to take it upon himself to start cleaning the scraped knee with a feather-light touch and precision that comes as a surprise. A minute stretches into five, into ten, as he works, clearing his throat at the end.

“I’ve been told that I’ve been,” he makes quotation marks in the air. “acting like a weirdo.”

“Ah. Well. Who am I to disagree with the King?” Eddie juts out his bottom lip and Steve snorts. Clamps a hand to his mouth, embarrassed, though a glint in his eyes betrays him.

“What’s so funny, Harrington?”

“Nothing. Just – I really do have a type,” Steve shrugs.

“Women that are probably too good for you?”

“Mmm, that, too, but also,” he grabs one of the loose strands that have escaped Eddie’s bun and twirls it between his fingers. Heat rushes to his ears fast and warm and he can barely make out what Steve says next. But he does and- “Cute pout. Curly hair. Beautiful brown eyes. Super smart.”

Eddie swallows. “Steve.”

“Not ‘Harrington’ anymore?”

“If this is a joke-“

“It’s not,” Steve’s hand quickly links and tugs at his. “I promise it’s not.”

“I’m a little lost, dude, not gonna lie.”

“The whole day, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. You’re… pretty, so pretty. And Robin insisted that you like me, too,” Steve slows down, disentangles his hands from Eddie’s. “But – did I misread this? I- Don’t leave me hanging like that, man.”

Eddie can see the growing panic in Steve’s eyes, desperation in his voice. He can’t help it, his mind comes to a shattering halt.

“Wait, hold on, I- You’re being serious?” Steve nods. “Okay, shit. I-uh. Fuck.”

“This was a bad idea, wasn't it?” Steve fists his hand in his hair, making a mess of it and oh, Eddie cannot allow that, not unless he’s the one that- “I’m so sorry, Eddie-“

One hand on a grey shirt, one with rings getting tangled in-between strands of puffy hair, two pair of lips collide for just a split second. Only a quick pause follows before they are reunited again, and again, and-

“Does that mean,” Steve asks, breathless, between peppering kisses. “that you’ll go out with me?”

“Keep the kisses coming and you have yourself a deal.”

Steve leans away and smirks. Eddie can’t help the little embarrassing whine that leaves his lips. “We stopped. Why did we stop?”

“Told you it’s all about teamwork.”

[v1x3n]

˙ ̟ !! - A BEST FRIEND TO REPLY ON

johnny 'soap' mctavish ⸝⸝ navigation ୨୧ tags : fluff, smut

୨୧ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 : you ran to your best friend, johnny, for comfort when your stupid boyfriend cheated on you.

bestfriend soap who has been your best friend for years, all your life almost -since kids. you've done everything together and you tell eachother everything.

when you left your boyfriend the first person you had run too was Johnny, ofc you did. he was your shoulder to cry on and yk he would do anything to get you happier again. so here you are strolling down the damp paths of the street that he lived in, then just entering the house when you arrived there.

he was your best mate,for all your life ofc he gave you a key to his house - if you ever needed him or a place to stay he would be free to give his place for you for no matter how long. After being on all the missions and shite he needed someone to water his plants and make sure nout got stolen, and you were the perfect person for the job.

“j, it's me!” you sniffle shout, the sound echoing to johnny in the kitchen.the sound of banging as if it were panic then carried through the walls, the noises brung you to the kitchen. a pie splattered all over the floor. you instantly giggle when you catch the sight of soap standing over the pie, hovering over it like he was going to just cry. “i had made you a pie.” giggling through his utter dispair while he sighs louder than he should have - exaggerating the loud exhale forming from his mouth.

after you helped him clean up he just sticks some noodles into a pan and calls it a day. chomping on the noodles at his dining table as he suddenly murmurs, “what's wrong?” he could tell something was off, there was something bothering you obviously. your boyfriend had just cheated on you - but you didn't tell johnny that you had just mentioned staying over. which he was fine with. taking a small heavy breath as he looks down at you with concern flavouring his eyes. “uhm..” trembling through your words as you come up with enough “he cheated.” you mutter out in a blast spewing from your gob.

“he what.” a firm ,dangerous tone forming from him as you see his stupid grin had faded into an angry frown.

bestfriend soap who had ranted about him for at least 30 minutes after you had told him. him shouting and the amount of times you had let a tear fall from your eyes was too much for you so you needed to put a stop to it. “johnny,I swear it's not a big deal. i - i just wanted to hang out with you tonight and feel better okay?”

“yeh,yeh sorry.” he not so sincerely apologises while you look over at him who is twirling his fork around his fingers like you would during stress.

trying to change to subject you respond, “you all done?” you point to the bowl which had a few noodles scattered around the edge and bottom. with a flick of the wrist you had stacked your and his bowl together, the two pieces of chins clinking together as they touch. “i can do it bonnie '' trying to grab the bowls off off you. you just glare at him, a ‘dont you fucking dare’ stare - throwing knifes at him through your dark pupils.

Once you had gotten him settled and cleaned up he had sat down with you on the couch, the seats extended to give you a little bit more space. you two were up on the couch, blankets around on you, fluffy pillows and some snacks. Johnny had decided to watch some series to maybe distract you from the situation. “he was a knob anyway.” he grumbles under his breath - obviously still pissed off at your dickhead boyfriend, well now ex. “Johnny, it's fine man.” grabbing onto his hand to like reassure him, him gripping onto your arm as you do.

“Get ere bonnie.” he sighs and doesn't let you respond, just instead grabs you gently and pulls you towards him. hugging you and applying small pressure to your back while he rubs angelically. a small and subtle moan, from the massage,ets out of your mouth as he rubs into a tight knot in your shoulders, “do you think it's me?”

“that i'm the problem?” the classic guilt after you were cheated on, nearly everyone goes through it - the wondering if you weren't pretty enough or if you need to change something about yourself; your personality,tits, face, body, kissing perhaps?

he just grunts, “no your not”

“i mean why else would he have done it, i - its-” you cut yourself off as you feel johnny arm wrap around you , comforting you in his own way.

“your fucken perfect lass. shut it yeah?” a simple but meaning reply. whilst grabbing your fingers to mess around with them he grumbles something, but you couldn't hear it. probably for the best.

bestfriend soap who had always had a small thing for you,wasn't major but still always there. peeping around the corners of his mind at all times was you. you were, are his best friend. and nothing could ever change that, especially if it were his fault by asking you out - he just couldnt and wouldnt bring himself to fuck up the friendship like that. it would've been all his fault because of something so silly.

he always admired you and secretly liked you, he could be seen across the room doe eying you as you're up to something - always hovering around you yo make sure you were always safe at all times.

maybe he always liked you, since children. he had not remembered when he hadn't liked you, you were always the gleam of his life.

bestfriend soap who during your two watching the tv he cannot get you out of his head. just worried and so fucking pissed st your ex. but theres another side - the otherhand is he cant get kissing you out of his head, creating small bruises along your neck and fucking you gently. he cant get you away no matter how hard he tries.

“j? im tired.” murmuring through a yawn, interrupting his horrid thoughts about his best friend. “lets go sleep then yeh?”

waddling to his bedroom, a room that had seen way to much of you- whenever your lonely or the tiniest bit upset you'd come running to johnny, hoping he would let you stay the night and get a good sleep with him and finally feel calm for once in your life. “i'll change in the bathroom, you know where your clothes are.” he checks as you make your way to the closet where he had a small section dedicated to your clothes when you needed to change or you were uncomfortable and over at his or anything like that. slipping off your clothes to put on the new pyjamas he had bought you - they were really cute. god he had such good presents, he gives you shit all the time and it's always perfect.

Soon he came back in, nothing but some shorts. you couldn't help but blush at him. your cheeks go a deep pink as you swerve to hide your embarrassed face.

“come on then lass.” he tucks himself into his bed and then leaves space for you next to him. “get comfortable” reminding you as he shuffles onto his side - facing away from you. making it onto the bed and whining softly when you had caught him gurning around. “can i. uh can we yk.” your embarrassment shining even more through your words as you ask him to hug you to sleep. it wasn't tat weird - obviously you two had been friends since kids so you did everything together and done weirder things. but this felt different asking as an adult, after all you had not slept like this with him for a while obviously you were in a relationship so you couldn't plus it wouldn't be very nice if you had a guy and ran to your friend for cuddles. well it didn't stop your boyfriend from sleeping with other lasses so maybe you shouldn't have bothered.

He pulls you into him and wraps a hand around your waist whilst cuddles you gently. “y/n?” he quietly speaks as you look up to see him staring back at you. “you uhm i..you feeling better?” it seemed like he wanted to ask more but he kept away , you knew he was going to ,i mean it was kinda obvious he wanted too. you hesitantly nod while he circles your waist, pulling his finger in circular motion to comfort you. “i just don't know what to do, j.”

“why's that lass?” he comforts your waist as you start to ramble to him, not really to him though - more at him. “well like how am i supposed to go home? knowing he's there and been there, how am i gonna tell my friends? my parents? how am-”

instantly in the middle of your rant you were cut short, johnny had put his index finger over the middle of your lips -silencing you.

“shut it yeah? your gonna be fine lass. that cunt were a cunt, you can do way better bon.” his soft words making your heart start to flutter when he swoops his hand to your jaw and curves his fingers around it. stroking it with his thumb as you gradually get closer to his face. “your too nice to me.” a slow, silky tone rolling off your tongue.

maybe it was all the emotions you held deep into your heart and you just felt defenceless and just needed something. anything. or perhaps it was just the heat of the moment, him being all close and being so so sweet but either way you wanted him.

never feeling this about him ever, nowhere close. He was always just your friend, the person your closet too, the person who always was there for you and the same for him. the person who you would never think about like that is any respect. but here you were - wanting him like you had never before.

a delicate heavy breathing comes out of both of your mouths as your eyes meet, connecting instantly. the sound of groans growing when you bring your lips to his. it started out as a gentle peck then you brought yourself away, shuffleing back from him - you had just thought : shit what if he doesnt even like you like that, fuck had you just ruined the whole friendship? then as soon as your thoughts stopped spiraling his lips brought to yours once more. creating a small warm glow, as if this moment was meant to be.

As your lips meet, a rush of emotions fills the air. The line between friendship and something more becomes blurred in an instant. The touch of his lips against yours ignites a fire within you, a fire that has been smouldering beneath the surface for years. The taste of his kiss is intoxicating, filling you with a mix of excitement and uncertainty.You find yourself getting lost in the sensation, your bodies pressed together in an embrace that feels both familiar and electrifyingly new. Every touch, every caress, making your touch starven folds wet the more it goes on. Soon his knee slides in between your legs, separating them as you whine. everything was so so much, him on top of you, his knee, your fluided cunt and his warm lips against yours - just so much to focus on at once.

“fuck bonnie, your- mmmhff.” his groans increasing as the very not pg scene creates a massive mess in between yours and his thighs. “how- “ his breathing growing as he slightly pulls from your needy lips, “how far are you willing to go with this lass?”

“as far as you want, j.”

“you wouldn't know how far i wanna go bonnie, be honest how far.”

without listening to him you had started grinding on his thigh that was conveniently placed in between your legs. “fuck!” you moan as the fabric starts to irritate your wettening pussy, “hnng” whining even louder. you would feel his size on you, it was so big you knew it wasn't gonna fit. his tight pants creating a tent around his fat girthy cock. hands bringing up to your face to hide your needy and embarrassing face as you unwind on his leg. “bonnie, don't hide your face.” swiping your hand away to pull it up above you and holding both of them down to stop your moment growing. then you had an unmeaningly squirm underneath him which gave his length a throb, you were in for it now.

The feeling of Soap's warm body pressed against yours felt amazing, you found herself blushing and feeling embarrassed but enjoying the intimate moment. Soap and your lips met and both your tongues gently tangled together, sending butterflies to your winding stomach while you closely reach your climax from just thrusting on to his leg and the heated kissing. you had just wanted to just surrender to the feeling and let Soap take the lead, letting him completly overtake you and gently fuck you into a whining mess. your tongue whirling against each other, your breath slowing running out. As you and him kept kissing, your bodies pressed together tightly, forming a grunt from him while your tongue rolled in his mouth - exploring everywhere in there.

then the warm moment ended, the pulled away creating a needy whine from your gob. “johnnnnyyyy, can we- can we do that again pleaseee?”

How could he ever say no to that pretty face?

comment to join main taglist!

[goayda]

No Hesitation

(Short fic for Jim's Week)

Izzy had been acting strange and of course Jim had been the first one to notice it.

The first mate had been shifty and nervous, acting more unsure than Jim had ever seen him before. He hadn’t been yelling at them as much as usual, not even at Lucius, and he tended to disappear into the captain’s cabin at weird times. The whole thing had been very suspicious and Jim hadn’t liked the feeling of it.

Then one afternoon, Jim had been walking below deck when they had seen Izzy and Edward just outside the captain’s cabin. The ex-captain had been towering over Izzy, much closer than the asshole had the right to be and then Izzy had shaken his head and said a barely audible ‘no, Ed’, but Edward had grabbed his arm and tried to drag him inside the cabin.

Jim must have made a sound because then Izzy had turned and had seen them. He had looked surprised for a moment before he had lowered his eyes in shame. Edward had turned to look at Jim with a smile on his face and had put a hand on Izzy’s shoulder.

And Jim had seen red.

By the time Olu and Roach had managed to drag them away from Edward, Jim had already thrown a few well-aimed punches and a vicious kick to the groin that had sent him to the floor. Yes, they knew how to fight dirty and they weren’t ashamed to do it if it was needed.

“Don’t you dare fucking touch him ever again!” Jim yelled as they were restrained by Olu and Roach.

The rest of the crew was already there, attracted by the commotion and Stede had walked out of the cabin immediately and was now crouching by Edward’s side, trying to comfort him.

Jim was ready to throw a punch at him too when a hand grabbed their arm lightly.

“It’s-it’s nothing like that, Jim,” Izzy said calmly, looking seriously at them.

Apparently Jim had got it wrong, very wrong.

As it seemed, the captain, Edward and Izzy were in ‘the early stages of a romantic relationship’ as Stede cheerfully explained to the crew once things had calmed down. They had decided to keep it a secret at Izzy’s request because he was uncomfortable with the crew knowing about it for now and what Jim had witnessed was simply Edward playfully trying to convince Izzy to have an ‘improvised romantic moment’ in private.

“Just say ‘sex’, man,” Roach said with a grimace as Izzy groaned and covered his eyes in embarrassment.

They had gathered on deck and were sitting on the floor as Stede explained the whole thing with his usual flowery language. Edward looked a bit uncomfortable, but Izzy looked as if he was ready to jump overboard and Jim could totally understand him.

“But I’m glad that now it’s all in the open,” Stede finally said after his lengthy explanation. “That means that now I can hold Izzy’s hand on deck and give him a kiss if I feel-“

“No, you absolutely can’t!” Izzy stopped him immediately.

“But why not?” Stede replied, barely containing a pout.

“I-I do not- it’s not professional!”

“Don’t push it, mate,” Edward whispered to Stede. “It’s too soon. Baby steps, remember?”

“Why didn’t you want us to know, Izzy?” Frenchie asked, looking a bit hurt by it.

“It’s because you thought it wouldn’t last?” The Swede asked. “That’s the reason?”

“No, that’s not-”

“You don’t trust us?” Fang asked, looking teary-eyed.

“No, it’s not that, alright?” Izzy replied, blushing lightly. “I’m just not… good at this and a first mate has to be professional to be respected and… Well, it seemed easier that way.”

“Aaww, Izzy, I’ll not respect you less now,” Lucius said with a big grin on his face. “I’ll respect you as little as before.”

“Fuck off, twatty,” Izzy replied with no heat behind his words.

Then it was time for Jim to apologize for beating Edward repeatedly and they did it curtly, but sincerely, as usual. Edward accepted the apology gracefully and seemed actually pleased by the whole thing.

“I’m happy that Izzy has someone that would look after him, aside from me and Stede,” Edward said, smiling.

“He doesn’t just have Jim, mate,” Wee John replied. “Any of us would gladly kick your ass if you ever tried to hurt him, right?”

A chorus of agreements answered Wee John’s question.

“That’s-that’s great, guys,” Edward said, his smile only fading slightly.

The gathering dispersed after that and only Izzy and Jim stayed there. They leaned on the railing side by side and stared at the sea without saying a word for a while.

“Thank you, Jim,” Izzy said eventually. “For having my back.”

“I know you would have mine,” Jim simply replied, looking at him.

“I would.”

They nodded at each other and then turned to stare at the sea again and didn’t say a word for a long, long time.

[whoopsies-daisies]

I can't stop thinking about it so... Here's an analysis of why i believe David Bowie's "space oddity" may have been taken as inspiration for the game Mouthwashing.

So, i feel like even though it could fit the game as a whole as well, this song best describes Curly, and his mental state throughout the game. If you've never listened to the song before, I'd suggest doing so before reading this. Not necessarily because you wouldn't understand it otherwise, but because it fucking slaps. The lyrics are in order, but the game events might not be chronological because of that. Some of the lyrics will have much more in-depth descriptions than others.

The song starts off by repeating the lyric "Ground control to major Tom... Ground control to major Tom..." In this scenario, i picture Curly as major Tom and, unsurprisingly, Anya as ground control. I do think other characters fit the role of "ground control" at points, but it's mostly Anya. Anya is warning Curly about Jimmy, and the lyric repeating relates to how her pleads for help remain unheard pre-crash.

"this it ground control to major Tom, you've really made the grade, and the papers want to know who's shirts you wear." This lyric feels very connected to Curly's success as a pilot. In this lyric i picture ground control as either Pony Express, communicating through the letter from corporate stating his promotion, or Jimmy and his envy/inferiority complex towards curly. Depending on the perspective, it could be taken as either sincere or sarcastic.

"now it's time to leave the capsule if you dare" I don't have a perfect connection for this one as it is just an extension of the previous lyric, but it could relate to the idea of Jimmy feeling like he's being abandoned by Curly, the capsule in this scenario being Jimmy and the crew. Sort of like he's saying "fine, leave me, i dare you."

"this is major Tom to ground control, I'm stepping through the door, and I'm floating in the most peculiar way. And the stars look very different today" was a bit of a tricky one but I'm thinking it has to do with the hallucinations/psychotic episode he experienced right before Jimmy's psych eval. Sort of like how the minute he stepped out of the door, he started seeing things.

"for here, am i sitting in a tin can, far above the world" seems indicative of how curly feels trapped (like being in a tin can,) both on the ship and in his job/life. The lyric is repeated multiple times throughout the song, and although the meaning changes each time, the overarching theme of feeling trapped seems present in each of them.

"planet earth is blue, and there's nothing i can do." is definitely connected to Curly's helplessness through it all. His inability to help anya, or to stop the crash, or to do much of anything after the crash due to his injuries. There's nothing he can do about what's happening, no matter how badly he wants to fix it.

"though I'm past one hundred thousand miles, I'm feeling very still." this could be another example of Curly feeling trapped in his position. He's exceeded or met his goals, yet still feels empty about it. It took him so long to get here, yet he's gained very little from it, and just wants to escape.

"and i think my spaceship knows which way to go." i think this represents Curly's misplaced trust in Jimmy before the crash and how Jimmy was supposed to be steering the ship.

"tell my wife i love her very much, she knows." in this scenario i picture anya as the "wife" and him saying "i love her" as him apologizing. It represents how he sees his mistakes and wants to apologize.

"ground control to major tom, your circuit's dead, there's something wrong, can you hear me major Tom? Can you hear me major Tom?" Ok this is my absolute favorite one, because it's literally the dead pixel metaphor rephrased. Once again, ground control is Anya and major Tom is curly. Anya is trying to tell Curly about the "circuit" or the dead pixel, referring to Jimmy, and the lyrics after, asking "can you hear me major tom" is sort of like how she wasn't able to get through to him either about Jimmy or the pixel.

and the final lyric. "Here am i floating round my tin can, far above the moon. Planet earth is blue, and there's nothing i can do." This is a representation of Curly's acceptance. The tin can could be either the ship as a whole or the cryopod. "Planet earth is blue and there's nothing i can do" is no longer regret, it is now a statement of mourning, for his crew and likely for himself as well.

I tried my best with this, guys. I'm not an analysis person so again, this could be really terrible and I'd have no clue! But if you made it this far, i hope you see my vision at least a little bit.

(@verdantwyrm come get yr juice 😋)

[mashup-writing]

Haunted Promises (Mia Winters; Resident Lover)

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Requested? ☑

"It's all washing over me, I'm angry again."

Summary: The Sorority's head is supposed to be socializing on opening night, but there's anger palpable in her gait & her eyes tell you it's your fault. Is it your fault?

Warnings: Alluding to OG!MC's death.

Genre: Angst

Resident Lover Masterlist

01-11: Set in the very first loop that MC lives through.

----------------------٩(◕‿◕｡)۶-----------------------

The music fades further away until it's inaudible as you ascend the stairs. You're unable to help the sigh of relief from coming out as a wheeze when you reach the rooftop's door.

"I think it should've been clear that I wanted to be alone."

The venom in her voice makes you stop in your tracks for a moment. Mia almost feels bad for the uncontrolled outburst, she stops just short of turning her whole body around to face you before suddenly remembering: You aren't who used to have your face anymore.

That one is gone.

You sigh, shutting the roof door behind you before taking forward, tentative steps. There's enough distance between you and Mia that she won't feel as though you're intruding on her space, but it's not so large as to let her pretend that you aren't there either. She continues staring up into the sky and you keep your eyes on her shoulders- They tell you that she's breathing shallow.

"I'm sorry." The words come out of your mouth and despite the tone of your voice, it doesn't feel sincere for either of you. A scoff leaves Mia's lips as you take steps to stand beside her by the rooftop's ledge. "You don't even know what you're apologizing for." Her tone is still dripping venom, but you don't feel as angry as you know you should be- You feel no anger at all.

"I know I'm sorry for whatever I did to have you hate me like this."

Mia's eyes meet yours for the first time ever. The silence lasts for a few moments and when she opens her mouth it seems that she doesn't know what to say, a funny thought crosses your mind and so you take it upon yourself to fill the air.

"On the bright side, this marks the very first time you've looked me in my eyes, you know?"

The tentative smile on your face fades when Mia's scowl is replaced by a deep frown instead. She immediately looks back towards the stars and you don't miss how her hands grip the ledge just a little harder than before. The current silence stretches further, and it feels just as suffocating as her anger which has now thankfully seemed to disappear. It feels as though ages pass in the quiet seconds between the two of you.

"I don't hate you."

It's now you who turns your head to her in surprise and you're about to open your mouth to ask for an explanation when Mia hastily beats you to it with a vague one. "You look too much like someone I lost."

"It's like their face is on the wrong body." She adds almost as an afterthought. You're unable to form words, how could you after a revelation like that? But you find out that you didn't have to after all, as Mia seems to be on autopilot after that statement.

"They could never have put up with your dorm situation, Angie and Daniela's combined rambunctiousness would've driven them to insanity worthy of the straightjacket treatment. They never would've joined a Sorority either and I wouldn't have dared trying to convice them or else they'd clock me over the head with a hardbound textbook."

Mia let's out a chuckle before continuing her rant. You hold your silence and let her speak, knowing she needs this. There isn't anything you can say that would make this easier for her anyways, so you opt to turn your body to face her. Letting her know in a silent way that you're listening.

"They never would've joined any clubs now that I think of it, they would much rather keep me company wherever if they weren't nose deep in some modern-fantasy, mythology-fantasy, medieval-fantasy, or whatever the fuck anything fantasy novel." She laughs fondly, her shoulders shaking with joy brought by memories before she shakes her head.

"They love the quiet life." Mia tells you with a forming smile that's gone as soon as she turns to look at who she's talking to out of habit. She turns her head in the opposite direction. "They loved the quiet life.."

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She is haunted by a ghost which breathes. A ghost which stands less than ten inches away from her, and Mia is not strong enough to meet it's eyes again.

Mia thinks to moments from long ago, spent with her best friend under a night sky just like this one. Her neck strains from the angle but she forces herself to hold still. She is haunted by a ghost with blood in its veins and it hurts Mia to know that she knows what this ghost's pulse feel like beneath her fingertips despite having never touched them yet.

The difference is that they would be making up silly stories about the stars visible for the night- "You can't even tell what I desperately need at fucking moment." She thinks bitterly, and with too much disdain that she knows she'll regret it in the future when she ends up remembering this moment someday.

Mia decides she'll apologize to them for this in the next letter she'll burn with the hopes that the wind will carry the ashes to wherever their actual soul is. Because the fake standing beside her cannot possibly be the piece of herself that she lost to someone more twisted than a pretzel.

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Your hand moves to gently rest on her shoulder of its own accord. You don't need a psychology degree to know that grief can be a dangerous thing to the one grieving, despite it being a natural and an unavoidable part of life.

The words that fall from your lips are whispered so tenderly, so softly- That you wonder for a moment if Mia even heard it.

"Would you like a hug?"

Your doubts vanish when Mia immediately shifts to all but throw her entire body weight into your arms, clinging so tightly that you feel pressure on your lower ribs. You cling to her just as tightly.

You don't know each other that well, or even at all- But you know that she needs this right now, so you cling to each other. Mia holds onto you like she's afraid you'll be gone if she drops even an ounce of the pressure, and you hold her as gently and as firmly as you can.

Mia's tears soak your shirt, her silent sobs wrack your bodies, and you let her grieve someone the has clearly loved and lost too soon.

"I know I could never be them-"

Her arms around your body tighten even more, and your hold on her loosens due to surprise.

"Please don't be... Please don't try to be them, just be. Just be, please?"

You don't understand why Mia's begging you for this so desperately, you can't understand why there's a different kind of urgency to her pleas that you can't figure out the reason of-

But she needs someone who isn't here anymore, and all you are is someone with a familiar face. So you let her grieve, and you try to soothe her even if you don't know why she begs you to swear it to her.

"Okay, I promise." Is all you can muster.

That night, Mia grieves in the arms of the ghost haunting her; And you make a promise you don't understand the importance of.

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01-11: Happy Pride Month everyone! I think the Ao3 curse has started to take hold in my life because I got hit by a GMC pickup truck while cycling last Thursday.... 💀

I hope you guys enjoyed my very first Mia fic! As per Anon's request, Knife-wife doesn't die!