#moss takes over everything | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ghost-proofbaby · 1 month ago

Text

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

"HALLOWEEN PARTIES"

EXTRA CONTENT- "BEYOND THE HOURS"

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader → warnings: strong language, mentions of breeding kink, mentions of possible future pregnancy, lots of suggestive conversation and making out. not edited. upside down does not exist, minors dni → wc: 9.9k+ → a/n: @take-everything-you-can plagued me with thoughts of what our idiots would get up to on halloween, and i just couldn't help myself. it definitely spiraled out of control though. my bad. ALSO, QUICK DISCLAIMER: please if you get a snake don't do what reader and eddie did. snakes a homebodies. we are just going to pretend it's okay in this context for the name of fiction, alright? obligatory snake owner ramble over. let's GO.

enjoy the main story's masterlist here

The thumping of the bass was audible before you’d even exited the elevator fully.

Any other day of the year, you’d assume your group of friends would be earning an instant noise complaint for the volume of the music coming from behind Steve and Robin’s apartment front door. But it wasn’t just any other day – it was Halloween, and somewhere amongst the rhythm of what surely had to be Steve blasting Abba, you could make out fellow neighbors playing music just as loudly.

If anything, the overly quiet apartments were more concerning than the noisy ones.

“Do you think Lestat is going to do okay with the music?” Eddie suddenly frets, one hand reaching to tug on what little fabric there was of his costume. It almost made you smile, a reminder of what exactly your usually ‘scary’ boyfriend was donning.

Britney Spears, circa 2001. One of her most iconic VMA performances.

He’d decided it the moment you two had come home several months ago with the most important accessory that was draped around his neck – a juvenile ball python named Lestat, who looked surprisingly content as he hung onto Eddie’s shoulders.

“I don’t know,” you hum, looking over at Eddie, a little bit concerned now that he’d brought it up, “Maybe it’s a bad idea-”

“I’m texting Nance to turn the music down.”

“What if it freaks him out?”

“It’ll be fine.”

“What if he gets stressed and bites you, Eddie?”

To any onlooker, the sight of you might have been a bit funny. Furrowed brows, arms crossed, sticky blood spread out across your stomach and sternum.

The theme tonight for the two of you had been iconic performances. Eddie insisted, and part of you knew he was just afraid to dress up so extravagantly all alone when it came to this small get-together, but you hadn’t hesitated to pull together your own version of Lady Gaga’s iconic VMA performance from 2009. If you two were going to commit to a theme this year, you were committing.

Eddie balances his phone in one hand, typing with a single thumb. Impressive, given his history of ardently avoiding owning a smart phone. His other hand trails up to his collarbone, sneaking a careful finger below Lestat’s head, holding him up and pouting his lip a little, “This little guy? Biting me? He would never.”

The sight was cute. Obnoxiously, overly, endearingly cute.

“He’s still a snake,” you try to argue, stopping right outside of apartment 34C. The music was more clear now as it switched from whatever Abba tune had been playing to Maneater by Nelly Furtado, “If he gets scared enough, he might.”

“I’d hardly call him a snake,” Eddie snorts, shoving his phone back into his pocket, smiling as he tilts his chin to awkwardly stare at the snake now carefully slithering over his knuckles, “Dude misses the mice on his first strike every time we feed him. And if there was ever a time he was going to bite me, it would have been when I was taking that moss out of his mouth as he was eating.”

That earns a huff of a laugh from you as well. The image of Eddie on Monday night, absolutely losing his mind as he’d noticed that Lestat had gotten his mouse entangled in some of the moss decorating his enclosure, not even hesitating to open the tank once more and throw his hand in right along with the tongs to prevent your new ‘son’ from ingesting it, crosses your mind. It hadn’t mattered how much you reassured him that it was probably normal in the wild, that Lestat’s body could certainly handle it. Eddie had been insistent and blinded by what could only be described by paternal instinct.

If you’d asked yourself last Halloween if that had been where you see your life heading in a year’s time, you would have rolled your eyes.

“You do realize how dumb that was of you, right?” you insist, remembering your fear and the way your breath had caught in the moment. It was funny now, but you’d never gripped onto Eddie’s shoulder tighter than when he’d recklessly done so. You loved the snake, you really did, but you’d realized in that moment you might still love Eddie just a little bit more.

The conversation is cut short as it’s clear that Nancy had received Eddie’s text, the music behind the door quieting a bit along with a change of song.

Your jaw nearly drops, “You did not make Nancy do that.”

The opening notes of I’m a Slave 4 U were impossible to miss.

“I did.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Are you gonna insult me the entire night, or let me make my iconic entrance?”

You don’t get a chance to answer, Eddie carefully passing by you, Lestat’s head bouncing a little as it passes a bit closer to your face than you would have been comfortable with a few months ago.

The snake, funnily enough, had even been your idea to begin with. Your want, your desperate argument you’d wasted countless breaths upon while getting ready for bed with Eddie.

It’ll be fun, you’d whined to Eddie as you’d both crawled into bed, we even have the space in the living room.

Sweetheart, you’re fucking terrified of snakes, Eddie had easily rebuttalled. He wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t stop you from huffing like a petulant child.

That’s an exaggeration, you argued right back.

Your hands had still shook ferociously that first day of bringing home the snake when you’d been the one to move him from the small container the store had placed him and into the full fifty gallon tank now occupying a fairly large chunk of the apartment’s living room.

You’re still lost in your head as the door swings open for Eddie right as the first chorus of the song begins. He’s dramatic, fully committed, a glimmer of who he must have been in high school shining right through as he struts confidently into your friends’ apartment.

A version of Eddie you somehow missed despite never having met. You almost wonder if you would have still ended up here if you’d met then; you almost wonder if you would have still ended up at each other’s throats inevitably, even in those days.

You probably would have. You secretly hope that it all would have still happened exactly as it has.

“No fucking way!”

Robin is the first voice you can hear excitedly shriek out a reaction to Eddie, followed by a sharp hush from Nancy. They’re deeper in the apartment, out of your line of sight. You can hear Jonathan’s muttered response lost in the music, and you can smell Argyle’s presence rather than hear or see it.

Weed had been expected, but Steve and Robin were strict in their rule of only partaking on the balcony.

“Yes fucking way,” Eddie responds, clearly giddy. You finally trail in behind him, not necessarily shy but certainly not nearly as extravagant as he had been. You hang back a bit, biting back a grin, just admiring your boy.

All warmth, rosey cheeks spread wide in his boyish grin, eyes bright as he wiggles his brows as Robin.

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Robin whispers as she rushes forward, glancing over her shoulder, clearly looking for Steve before she leans it a tad bit closer towards Lestat.

“Mama didn’t raise a bitch,” Eddie snarkily replies, moving to slowly remove the snake from his neck.

“Language,” you jokingly scold him, reaching out to take the snake from his hands as he brings it to his chest, giving Robin a closer look at the nearly-glimmering pale scales of your pet. Almost instinctively, he starts to pull the animal away, but once he sees the look on your face, he’s quick to hand him over. “No cursing around our son.”

Nancy finally walks up, still no sign of Steve as she joins your side and Lestat wraps his body slowly around your wrist, “Oh my God, don’t tell me you also refer to this thing as your child.”

“This thing?” Eddie huffs, more offended than you, “Nance, he has a name.”

Robin has gravitated towards you now, entirely captivated by the ball python, eyes shimmering as she lets out the smallest gasps and squeals under her breath, “What’s his name?”

“Lestat,” you whisper, watching Nancy and Eddie grow closer and clearly get more immersed in their own private conversation, “But Eddie wanted to name him Frodo.”

“Frodo,” Robin chuckles a little, looking at you questioningly as she holds out a timid finger. You give her a nod, moving a thicker part of the snake’s body to face her rather than the head, “Sounds like Eddie.”

It did indeed. Once the bickering of whether or not you two would even get the snake to begin with had faded, the entire argument of what its name would be had started up. Eddie wanted the snake to be named after his favorite books – you wanted to name the snake after your most recent reads.

You’d clearly won. At the sacrifice of promising the inevitable first of many cats you and Eddie would eventually have be named Frodo instead. But you’d still won.

Robin’s eyes finally leave the snake long enough to take in your own outfit, and you hadn’t realized it was possible for the girl’s grin to widen, “Wait - are you dressed as Lady Gaga from her Paparazzi performance?”

“Oh, my dear Birdie,” you coo out the endearment, shivering slightly as the cool body of the snake continues to slither up near your elbow, “This night is just getting started.”

—

You were right. The night had just begun.

The first few hours pass fairly chaotically. A languid and rapid mixing of everyone excitedly catching up on each other’s lives, various drinks beginning to be concocted. Some delicious, and some spurring gags from others simply from the description of the hard liquor that had gone into them.

Argyle had managed to lure many of the group out onto the patio at various intervals to partake in the devil’s lettuce, as he had proudly proclaimed it. Nancy and Jonathan had figured out a way to set up a makeshift karaoke party in the living room, lyrics for songs being displayed on the main TV. And Steve, for all his attentive hospitality as the one of the co-hosts of the night, had remained painfully oblivious.

Eddie had gone behind his back when it came to bringing Lestat. Steve had made it clear when the two of you had purchased the puppy in reptile form that he wanted nothing to do with the python, while the rest of the group had been easily intrigued – especially Robin. And so once Eddie had decided upon his Britney outfit, the next logical step had been securing Lestat’s attendance at the party. He hadn’t texted Steve - or Nancy, as a matter of fact - but rather Robin.

The girl hadn’t even taken a minute to respond, overly enthusiastic to meet the snake.

Everyone had slowly become a part of a more silent bet as the night dragged on, and for once, you and Eddie were on the betting side of it all. The drinks were poured, the weed was smoked, the music was sung along to painfully off-key, and Steve never once noticed the snake that was frequently wrapped around various parts of yours and Eddie’s body.

The quick exchanges probably didn’t help. When Steve needed your help in the kitchen at one point, you’d smoothly handed Lestat over to Eddie in passing. When Eddie had agreed to join Jonathan and Argyle on the balcony at one point, he’d easily and carefully draped the snake across the nape of your neck from behind the couch. Hell, you’d even spent a good five minutes engrossed in a conversation with Steve, all the while Lestat had been comfortably coiled around your bicep opposite the man.

As the hours passed by, you found yourself wanting to be caught.

Your phone pings suddenly as you bury yourself deeper into the leather couch, giggling over Steve’s current rendition of What’s New Scooby Doo?.

You shuffle carefully to pull it from where you’d wedged it against your hip, trapped weakly by your white bottoms speckled with glittery blood.

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: I want a cigarette :-(

You do a double take of the contact name, blinking rapidly before you finally connect the dots.

YOU: when the hell did you change your contact name in my phone?

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: Unimportant.

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: Do you think if I hand Lestat off to you right now that Steve would notice?

Your eyes flick up as the song ends, Robin having jumped up to finish off the performance with Steve, the two of them a mess of flailing limbs clinging to each other and joyful laughter bubbling out of them for unknown reasons.

Well, partially unknown reasons. One of them was surely the strange concoction the two of them had chugged at some point in the night that had included both watermelon flavored vodka and green apple whiskey. That had been one you’d cringed and stuck your tongue out at.

YOU: 50/50 chance. And NOT unimportant btw, what’s my name in YOUR phone?

Just as Eddie exits the bathroom, Steve perks up at the sound of the door and distant flush, removing himself entirely from Robin’s embrace, “Fuckin’ finally! I have to piss.”

Everyone holds their breath as he rushes past Eddie, but he still remains completely unaware of the snake that Eddie is carrying.

The slam of the door times perfectly with Eddie’s collapse onto the couch next to you, a shy and guilty grin already gracing his face before you even begin bursting at the seams with continuing the text conversation face-to-face.

“Seriously,” you waste no time, turning to him quickly and your knee easily overlapping his thigh as you shuffle into a more comfortable position, “When did you change your name in my phone, asshole?”

He takes his time answering, pulling on the ridiculously small jean shorts he wears as his shoulders quiver with the effort of holding in his laughter, “Words hurt, baby.”

You hate the way nicknames as simple as baby can send still shivers down your spine.

“You couldn’t have at least been a little more creative? Like, world’s hottest boyfriend? C’mon, you can be more clever than that, surely.”

It’s easy to do this, to egg him on and prod at his ego in the softest of ways. It’s also always been a dead giveaway to him that he’s gotten under your skin.

“My name with a pretty black heart next to it just wasn’t cutting it anymore,” he pouts exaggeratedly, leaning into your space a bit, holding the snake a careful distance away as he looks into your eyes and a suspiciously jubilant look crosses his face, “What would you have preferred?”

“Something shorter,” you breathe out, feeling some of the alcohol coursing through your veins now, making your headswim as you suck in the scent of his cologne heavy in the space between you, “It’s a bit of a mouthful, if I’m being honest.”

“It is,” he nods, and his lips spread salaciously, pupils growing just a tad bit wider before he delivers a devastating blow, “But we both know you can take it, can’t you, baby?”

Damn him. Fuck him. Send him all the way down to the depths of Hell, for all you care.

He’s caught on to a clear game he can play now that you’re tipsy, one that he certainly has the upper hand in, and you can’t tell if the night ending in him winning it would actually spell your loss. You swear, you can already feel his hands on your hips, tearing off the costume you’d spent several weeks carefully sewing sequins into, his lips getting sticky with all the fake blood across your torso, his-

Huh. Never had you realized yourself to be such a horny drunk.

“Now I need a cigarette,” you grumble, leaning away from him, trying to break whatever spell he was casting. None of your friends’ have even noticed the interaction happening on the couch, saving you from eternal embarrassment.

If you’d had less pinot noir and shots of Fireball whiskey in your veins, you’d probably still find the decency in you to be self-conscious at toying with these things in public. Maybe scold him, maybe douse out whatever flames he was attempting to ignite.

Eddie leans back as well, clearly satisfied with himself as he lifts Lestat up to preoccupy himself by pretending to study the lightened coloring of the snake. Mostly white, with splatterings of a traditional morph at random across the body. The woman who had sold the snake to the two of you had referred to it as a piebald. If you had been shopping with an actual breeder rather than a reputable rescue, he would have cost an arm and a leg.

Luck had been on your side the day you’d stumbled upon the snake. You wish luck was still on your side tonight.

Eddie sticks out the tip of his tongue to mimic the snake a few times before he focuses on you again, “You know, we could always see if Robin wants to watch him while we both go grab one.”

You have no clue how the girl had heard him from across the living room, but she suddenly appears at his side, just as eager in appearance as her original text giving the blessing to bring Lestat had been.

“Did someone say I could hold the snake?” she bounces a bit on the balls of her feet, looking down with utter fascination, “Please tell me you guys just said I could hold the little guy. When you first got him, I did a ton of research so I’d know proper handling tips, and also how to know if he gets too stressed. Also I may or may not have been nervous about how often they bite, but I found out that-”

“They don’t bite,” Eddie interrupts with reassurance, offering a small smile as he looks up to her, “At least, not very often. You usually have to aggravate them pretty badly, or catch them on a really shit day for them to strike.”

It had been a huge selling point in convincing him. Ball pythons were docile in nature, and they’d be quicker to match up to their namesake by balling up than actually strike out at someone.

Of course, the day you had been informing of this, you had no idea he was already aware of it. He knew they didn’t bite, he knew the specifics of what a habitat for them needed, he knew their dietary needs – he’d already had an Amazon shopping cart filled with supplies after the first time you brought the snake up to him, unbeknownst to you.

“Yeah,” Robin nods ferociously, hands reaching out carefully, already more than prepared to take the snake, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now hand over the baby and go do whatever debauchery you two are clearly wanting to get up to.”

“We aren’t getting up to debauchery!” you try to defend the two of you, watching Eddie carefully uncurl Lestat from his arm to pass him into Robin’s waiting hands, “Eddie just wants a cigarette and-”

“And you want to join him and probably get in some hot and steamy makeout sessions, right?” Robin finishes your sentence for you, quirking an eyebrow for a second before letting out a whisper of a squeal when Lestat takes to her quickly. His tail wraps around the length of her wrist and you’re shocked as you watch him stay just as curious as he had been while held by you and Eddie. A tad bit more reserved, but no sign of balling up any time soon.

Eddie stands from the couch, patting his largest back pocket to ensure his pack of cigarettes and lighter are still safely tucked into it, and you know it’s useless to keep arguing with Robin. She’s entirely entrapped by the snake in her hands now, whispering in a high-pitched tone that surprisingly doesn’t seem to bother Lestat. All her coos nearly resemble baby-talk. It’s cute – sort of. A direct mirror of how you and Eddie have been acting at home when you handle the ball python.

You stand slower than Eddie had, hawk eyes still glued to your friend, “Just- Just be careful, okay? Avoid touching his head, and don’t wave your hands around too much while talking, because it can scare him. He also might try and crawl up to your hair because Eddie lets him hide in his at home, and sometimes he’ll pull on it because it sticks to him, so just-”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie stresses, throwing an arm around your shoulders, giving your bicep opposite from him a quick squeeze, “She’ll be fine.”

Robin nods, clearly only half listening to the debate as she watches Lestat wander up her arm in clear wonder.

It sort of does feel like Lestat is your actual human child, as though you’re leaving your toddler with a babysitter for the first time.

Eddie tugs you deeper into his side, musky cinnamon and boyish charm filling your nose as he leans down and murmurs, “C’mon.”

A Ghost song starts to thump over the speakers as you allow Eddie to guide you over to the sliding door beside the kitchen, the layout different and even a tad bit nicer than your own apartment. It’s odd, the view of the kitchen being clearer than the living room, the exact opposite of how your home is.

Home. Even in your tipsy state, even after so much time having living with Eddie and even going as far as to now own a pet with him, the notion fills you with warmth.

Maybe you’re actually a sentimental drunk.

As the two of you pass by Argyle, he briefly lifts his head, cherry-shaded eyes peering up excitedly until Eddie quickly shakes his head, making the poor man sink back against the loveseat that he occupies with Jonathan and Nancy. You almost feel bad, but it’s clear Argyle is too far gone to even feel disappointment right now.

“After you, m’lady,” Eddie chivalrously slides the door open for you, half-bowing and putting on a half-assed British accent as he sweeps his arm for you to exit onto the balcony first.

“It’s Lady Gaga to you,” you snark as you slip out into the crisp Autumn air, cheeks cooling instantly.

“Oh,” the door slides shut with a soft thud behind Eddie as he joins you, face immediately covered by the shadows of the evening, “My apologies.”

It’s nice out. Far nicer than any October has been in the city in what feels like years. The air is refreshing, dare you even say sobering, and the city lights below wink at you as you hear all the distant noises of life. Car horns, children’s laughter, music from other parties. It sounds as though one of the neighbors below is blasting heavy rap, and you swear you can hear the trill of a radio pop song from your left.

Beer, cider, pumpkin spice – it all fills the air. It’s Halloween, and it’s nice.

The breeze is electric with all the livelihood, sending goosebumps up your arms as you approach the railing, looking out across a night sky painted some sort of faded cross between navy and grey rather than a stark black of midnight.

It all turns to static the moment Eddie wraps his arms around your waist from behind you, heavy pack of cigarettes in his palm as his lips find solace in one of the few bare patches of skin on your shoulder.

“God, I love Halloween,” he murmurs against you, his breath hot as it catches across your costume.

God, I love you.

You can’t help the cheesy thought as a hand comes up to grip Eddie’s forearm, giving three short squeezes, pulling him just a tad bit closer. But it’s true – Halloween was wonderful, you’d always enjoyed any excuse to get together with your friends and family, but it had never felt quite like this.

Planning cliche dates during the season, movie marathons spent cuddling up with your other half rather than sitting across on a couch from friends. Kisses in the pumpkin patch. Cider on his lips. Putting up decorations and ending up chasing each other around the apartment, landing in a pile of limbs that slot against one another perfectly. Arguing about which decorations should go on the balcony, which garland to line your front door with.

It wasn’t a replacement for spending time with your friends. And there were still crude jokes, still bickering over timing of plans and locations to visit. It still felt like spending the holiday with friends – it was spending it with your best friend.

Eddie Munson. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. The sentiment is unexpected to past you, but so entirely welcome by the you currently enveloped in his embrace.

“I used to insist on spending Halloween alone, you know,” you mumble as his chin digs in the point where your shoulder connects to your neck, vision blurring as you continue to stare out at the tiny busy streets, “Just, like, lay around in my dorm. Watch shitty horror movies on my laptop until I got too scared and had to find some dumb comedy to help me sleep. It was the only day of the year where my roommate sort of acknowledged my existence. She was the one who’d go out, and she’d get all this candy and share it with me.”

You don’t know the point of your rambling, but Eddie is listening intently anyways.

You turn carefully in his arms, now mesmerized by how his face looks in the warm glow of the seasonal lights Robin and Steve had put up. Shades of orange flickering across his amber eyes, shadows making all his sharpness in his features more prominent.

“Talking about it now sounds kind of boring,” you muse, laughing a bit dryly, “The most festive thing I would do was going to the Halloween store with Robin and Steve once they opened.”

“Yeah?” he asks softly, arms still tangled around you, grinning gently, “I don’t think that’s too boring.”

“It was,” you insist, pressing just a little closer to him, “God, it was so boring. Not going to the store with those idiots – I mean, that was pretty fun. But it was nothing compared to setting up a snake habitat, or carving pumpkins with you. Now I can watch whatever slasher you want before bed, and I still sleep just fine, cause I’ve got you to protect me.”

His smile matches your own – radiant, proud, happy.

“Oh, definitely,” he nods once, twice. So sure, ego inflated for the bit, “Any scary men with a chainsaw dare to break into our apartment, and I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Our apartment. The perfect ring to it.

“Didn’t you scream about that spider in our apartment yesterday? Like, full on squeal, hopping up onto the couch, begging me to save you-”

He cuts off all your teasing, even though it was true, with a kiss. Simple, strong, sure. Fingers dancing under your chin to pull you up to him, meeting you halfway and not even hiding his smile at your antics as he effectively shuts you up.

“We agreed to not talk about that,” he mumbles against your lips, tasting like the last shot of whiskey he took with Nancy.

“You agreed to not talk about it,” you pester back, trying to pull away from his kiss. But his other hand comes up, trapping your face between both his palms, and it’s a useless effort, “I just promised to not immediately share the photo of you up on the couch with everyone.”

Half the words are hardly articulate as his lips continue to nip at yours, struggling from your wide smile and the way your entire body is shaking from your giggles. You can feel the cold metal of the railing brushing your exposed lower back, a breeze picking up that can be blamed for the goosebumps racing down your spine rather than Eddie’s wandering hand. It’s not devourment, it’s not desperation, it’s not Earth-shattering.

It’s something like mending. Something like a promise.

Living together, celebrating the holidays together, owning a pet together – they were all baby steps leading to something even brighter in the future. An unspoken truth between the both of you. An inevitable crescendo to all that had been built.

Eddie whines a bit when you pull away again, but this time, your forehead stays pressed to his. A joint effort between the way you tilt your head and the way his hands press you against him.

“Do you remember the last time we were on a balcony together?” you ask in a low whisper, trying to mimic the same suggestive tone that he’s always been able to put on at the drop of a hat.

You’re not quite as talented as him. You’re actually just a giggly drunk.

His brows furrow, “What? This morning?”

“No.”

“Two nights ago, when you insisted Lestat needed to see the moon?”

“No.”

“Are you talking about the afternoon we had a redo of our pumpkin carving contest? Because I still won again, fair and square, ba-”

“I’m talking about the bet, you idiot.”

His fingertips press a bit deeper into your flesh, his lips forming a wobbly ‘o’ as he stares down at you, “How was I supposed to know you were referring to that? That was definitely not the last time we were on a balcony together-”

You shut him up with the same courtesy as he had done to you, adding in a roll of your eyes before your hands wrap around his neck to pull him into you. This time, you make it hot and heavy. Lips and teeth and tongues, grabby hands from the both of you making their way across all the exposed skin and scraps of costumes you two wear. It takes Eddie aback at first, clearly not expecting the sudden passion, but he recovers quickly.

He remembers exactly what you’re referring to quickly.

Your back collides a bit harsher with the railing as he rolls his body up against yours, not a breath of space between the two of you as he wedges his knee between your thighs. You have no idea where his pack of cigarettes has vanished to, but you don’t care. All you really care about is the way he’s holding you, the way he’s suffocating you, the way he’s watering you.

It’s hard to believe the garden within that he’s nurtured at your side for the last year was ever something broken. That there was once a time it was nothing more than dried vines and pathetic blossoms begging to see the light of day. Now, the warmth of a thousand suns was gifted to you every morning you awoke to his smile. Every joke, every small caring act, every kiss stolen just because one of you felt like it. You two may have accidentally killed that first plant you bought the week you moved in properly with him, but this?

You can’t imagine a day where the two of you ever might let this die off.

His lips break from yours, predictably painting a path along your jaw as he murmurs, “I think I do remember. But, just in case – wanna remind me?”

And for a second, you almost do.

All your coils are tight across your body, burning in your abdomen and shaking in your knees, but all it takes is the faintest movement of a shadow to remember all your friends inside the apartment still.

“We can’t,” you whisper, as if they might hear you in the glass, trying to pry yourself away from him just as his teeth start to graze your neck, “Seriously - we can’t.”

Eddie chuckles lowly against your neck, and you know exactly why.

You’d started this without even considering the consequences.

“Started something you can’t finish, didn’t ya, baby?”

Oh, damn him. That stupid low and teasing tone. That dimple you can feel brush against your skin as he moves his mouth to the other side of your neck. All the heat in your body travels south, pooling between your hips, aching for him to go against your wishes to avoid embarrassment and just finish this.

He doesn’t, though. You’re starting to believe he’s less drunk than you are, a clearer mind than your own with far more sensibility than he seems capable of most of the time. His lips leave your neck, his hands finding the polite placement of hovering over your hips. The fog is starting to clear, if only just the slightest bit, and-

You were wrong. So, so wrong.

He’s not sensible. That wicked hand placement was nowhere near polite. In an instant, he’s latched onto you tightly and spun you around, quickly bending you over against the railing so your chest presses into the metal and the cold sends shockwaves across your entire body. Your ass is pressed to his crotch and one hand holds you securely, tight enough that he can be sure you won’t fall, as the other crawls up your back at impeccable speed to press you further down.

Immediately, you’re squealing, “Eddie!”

His laughter is just as loud as all your protests as you come face-to-face with the true height of a three-story balcony, knuckles paling from gripping onto the bars.

You’d hate him for it, but you feel the security of his palm and knuckles around your waist, and you know he’s not letting you go anywhere over that railing. He’s hardly even allowing your head to hang over it.

The moment you start to lean back up against his hand on your back, he’s allowing it immediately. There’s no friction or fight as you stand up straight once more, back against his chest and your hands already prepared to swing back to smack him before both of his arms come up around your shoulders and cross your chest.

“You asshole,” you gasp out, flailing hands deciding to grip strongly onto his forearms as he cradles you up in the tight embrace from behind, still chucking in your ear as you both take several steps back. Your heart pounds, and you’re pretty sure your nails are biting into his skin.

Maybe they’ll leave a mark – you hope they sort of hurt.

“Just had to make sure you really do remember that night,” he jokes, trying to lean his head far enough over your shoulder to get a good look at your face, “I think the bars would have been a bit more exposing, though, yeah?”

Your nails dig in deeper, and his grin widens.

Bastard.

“What if I had fallen?” you snap, finding it hard to be mad at him. Those damned strong arms around you, the thump of his own heart right against the space between your shoulder blades, that fucking dimple.

“I wouldn’t have let you.”

If the two of you had children some day, would they have his dimples?

“We’re both drunk-”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“-And I’m pretty sure this balcony isn’t up to OSHA standards-”

“Oh, it definitely isn’t.”

“-And you almost left our poor son motherless,” you finish off with a forced scowl, shaking off his embrace to face him properly, “Are you prepared for that? Were you prepared to be a single father?”

God, you hate his fucking smile. God, you hope if you have real kids someday, they have that same shit-eating grin.

With a pout of his lips, he steps back up to you, looking down tauntingly, “You’re right, baby. I didn’t even think about poor Lestat.”

You hum, standing your ground, but your defenses are quickly crumbling. Your mind is running with too many thoughts, exhausting itself over everything except the residing anger you should feel at your absolute nuisance of a boyfriend.

The feeling of being held down by him in that position once more. How the heat of his body had warmed you, and you’d only noticed now that the cool air was attacking your exposed back. Swimming in the visions of what color eyes your children might have, pigtail curls of a little girl with Eddie’s defiance or a little boy who wears his shit-eating grin as he exhibits your same unbreakable curiosity.

You definitely shouldn’t have drank so much tonight. It doesn’t matter what kind of drunk you are – it was a bad idea regardless.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Eddie’s voice takes you out of your thoughts as he slides his arms around your waist, always needing to be touching you, clingy to a ridiculous degree.

You weren’t complaining, though. How could you? If given the option, you’d make a home out of his bones in a fraction of a heartbeat as well.

“Nothin’,” you lie through a sigh, head tilted dramatically, much preferring to focus on the ginger contours of Eddie’s cheeks than whatever future Jack Daniels had been painting in your mind.

“Bullshit,” he doesn’t hesitate to call you out on it. And it’s not the alcohol fueling his boldness – it’s just how he is. He knows you better than the back of his hand, the roof of his mouth, his favorite songs on guitar. He knows you. “You got this dreamy look in your eyes, and you’re staring so hard over my shoulder, I’m almost scared I’ll turn around to see a ghost in the window-”

Jack Daniels will be your arch nemesis after tonight, the culprit behind the way the words suddenly tumble out of your mouth, “Do you think we’ll have kids someday?”

You wait for the air to leave the space between the two of you with the same urgency it’s left your lungs. You wait for a crack in the air, a chasm to suddenly appear. It’s heavy – God, it’s a heavy question to suddenly ask your boyfriend of one year at a Halloween party. You’re both drunk on your friends’ balcony, and you were having a perfectly sweet moment, and you’d just gone and ruined it. And to top it all off, Eddie was still just smiling, and-

Wait.

Eddie was smiling.

The air was still there, filling his lungs with calm breaths. No sign of fear within his twinkling eyes. No chasm squeezing between the stitches holding you two together.

He’s just smiling.

“Is that really what you were thinking about?” he quietly asks.

You almost don’t want to answer. You almost want to force out cackles of fake laughter, to double over and face the ground rather than his humored expression.

“Yeah.”

Maybe he doesn’t believe you yet, maybe he has to double check before he breaks out into his own laughter. Maybe the alcohol in both your veins is just delaying the inevitable that you’d been originally expecting.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Maybe not.

Instead of laughter, instead of mocking you, he keeps a cheery expression as he shrugs softly, “I mean, maybe? I sort of hope so. And, don’t get me wrong, I know a kid is a pretty far leap from a snake, but I’d say we make a pretty good team at keeping living things…. Well, living, y’know? Besides, I solemnly swear I won’t try to name our kids after Tolkien. I’ll reserve those names for the pets.”

All the air leaves your lungs again, but this time, it’s a little less painful, “What?”

“Annie’s a cute name,” he continues on, completely unphased. It’s nearly impossible to remember that you were the one who had started such a serious conversation about the future, “I also like the name Parker. I remember you mentioned that one once, right? Something about being able to nickname the kid Pac-Man, I’m pretty sure. I think that’d be pretty sick.”

And oh, was he right. You had mentioned the name Parker once. Just not to him. Not directly, at least.

The entire ridiculous make-believe scenario had come to you during a girls’ night, after one too many glasses of wine and Nancy bringing up the topic. You, her, and Robin had all spent a good hour coming up with names for children and the best nicknames to suit them. Some had been genuine, and some had been for nothing more than shits and giggles.

Parker, and the nickname Pac-Man, had been serious for you. Parker Anthony. You hadn’t figured out a second middle name to complete the initial acronym of Pac that night, the rosé eventually getting to you, but you had been serious.

“You were listening that night?” you breathe out, only feeling slightly betrayed, “What the Hell? I thought you said you were going to put your headphones on and listen to some Metallica to unwind after work.”

“I lied,” he cheeses, hot palms against your barren lower back, “I’m nosey. Sue me.”

“You could have just joined us, Eddie.”

“And miss the chance to hear you plot out the middle names of our future children?” Eddie snorts, “Not a chance, sweetheart.”

He says it so casually, you wonder if it’s possible for a heart to burst from optimism.

“So,” you pause, take a deep breath, feeling the embarrassment creep back up your throat, “Is that, uh…. Is that a yes? That you do think so?”

Why was it so hard to repeat yourself, to just say the words already spoken?

Eddie had made it clear you had nothing to lose. You two were on the same page. He hadn’t scoffed in your face, he hadn’t even pulled away at the mere mention of the idea. Instead, he had leaned fully into it, head-first as he slid right into the imaginary future with you. He’d given a name to the little girl with his hair and his spunk, to the little boy with his dimples and his mischief.

Was it still a little too soon, too fast? Was that where the hesitation was born from?

It just all felt a bit too easy. After the rocky start you two had endured, this entire last year had just felt too simple.

Of course, even if the hesitation was sitting there in the pit of your stomach alongside all of your anxieties, all of your waiting for the other shoe to drop, Eddie easily soothes it all over as he gives a slow nod and responds, “Yeah. I do – I really do.”

And you clearly wear your heart on your sleeve, emotions painted across your eyes and cheeks for him to read clear as day, because he notices that catch in your breath.

“Not right now,” he rushes to add on, “I mean, listen, we’re still adjusting to Lestat. I think I’d like to be a cat dad too, before I even think about being a girl dad.”

“You’re gonna be a girl dad?” you laugh out without thinking, starting to thaw into a conversation that Jack Daniels had begun but you know you can surely finish with Eddie at your side, “That’s… unexpected.”

His face scrunches for the first time during the entire conversation, “What? You don’t think I’d be a good girl dad? I already deal with my rat’s nest of hair, so I know I’d be at least decent at braiding. And can you imagine getting to take a mini-you to shows, or buying her some cute unicorn helmet once she’s old enough to ride ol’ Nightfury? God, I think I might die from cuteness overload…”

Your cheeks are aching, ears ringing with his words. But all you can do is latch onto one little phrase: mini-you.

Here you were, picturing duplicates of Eddie bounding around the two of you, and you hadn’t considered what he might be seeing.

Not a child with his spunk. No, he’s seeing a little girl with your wit. A little boy with your stubbornness. Those eyes of his, nearly resembling heart-shapes at this point, weren’t wanting to see carbon copies of his whiskey irises. He wanted yours to be looking back up at him.

Hearts clearly can’t burst from an overload of optimism, of happiness. Yours beats wildly as proof, still intact behind your ribs that bloom with rosebuds for the boy pressed to your front.

“Mini-me?” you murmur, making him trail off, focused entirely on you so sincerely you could choke up. You shake your head, letting out a soft huff of air, smiling down at the ground, “No, I- I think you’ll be an amazing dad, Eddie. I just didn’t…. I just forgot…”

“That I’m with you all the way?” he finishes your sentence for you, one eyebrow arched as he gives a squeeze to one of your hips, “You could decide tomorrow you don’t even want to talk about having a kid ever again, that you’d rather get ten more snakes and live as some sort of cryptic couple somewhere in the Midwest the rest of our lives, and I’d be just as excited. I don’t really care where we end up, sweetheart – I just care that it’s with you,” You can no longer tell if it’s his words or the remnants of alcohol in your system that has you tearing up. All you know is that you are, and it’s ridiculous, but it’s fine, because all you see are dark brown eyes and entire realms of possibility in front of you, “Girl dad, snake dad, cat dad – whatever you need from me, I’m your guy.”

When the first tear falls, you're quick to shoot one hand up to your cheek in order to swipe it away as the other reaches out blindly to smack Eddie softly, “Shut up. Stop being cheesy. I’m too drunk for this.”

“You’re right,” he nods ferociously, taking over the duty of wiping away your tears without so much as mentioning it, “Wanna make out again instead?”

You let out a snort, and it eggs him on.

“Or, hey,” his eyes light up, some of the seriousness of the moment fading naturally, “Maybe we ditch this party and start practicing. You know, in case we still want kids someday.”

His pupils widen a bit, and you know surely that it’s only half a joke. You don’t miss the way his breathing picks up at the thought.

“Careful, big boy,” you tease, leaning into his feathery touch on your cheek, relishing the way the nickname draws him under your spell even when you aren’t saying it with an ounce of gravity, “It’d be awfully dangerous to get yourself worked up in such short shorts.”

Saying it outloud almost makes you want to see it, genuinely.

“Worked up?” he scoffs, backing up a little, caught off-guard, “Who says I’m getting worked up? I’m not getting worked up.”

It doesn’t matter how many steps back he takes from you, you still follow, your palm still lands dead center on his chest as you roll your eyes, “Right. Because I’m totally meant to believe that the guy who used to jack off to Playboy magazines with girls who looked like me isn’t going to pop a boner at the thought of fucking a baby into me-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Nearly more resembling a bite, his canines digging right into your bottom lip as he pulls you forward and collapses back against the glass door behind him.

No words are spoken, no subtle interruptions for this kiss. Toying a dangerous line, dancing along a narrow cliff, and he’s the one who’s decided to drag the two of you off of it.

You don’t mind. You’d follow him to the ends of the world if he asked you to.

When one of his hands reaches up to your scalp, tugging at the roots of your hair for no other reason than he can, your mouth opens up into a silent laugh. An invitation, a jeer, a challenge. A quiet whisper of go ahead, do it. Consume me already.

He’s already everything to you. He’s already a definition of home thinly veiled with skin and bones, a future with a heartbeat.

His tongue down your throat doesn’t change the matter. Just reclaims it.

A whine is lost in translation somewhere from the back of your throat and right into his cheeks. His right hand wraps around some of the skin of one of your thighs, encouraging it to lift up to his hip, and you can still feel the memory of his usual rings imprinting into your skin. A permanent tattoo, a ghost of a feeling that’ll haunt you for all time – you love it. You want to live there forever, right here in this haunted house, collecting memories and dust of all that he is.

Haunted houses are only lonely when you’re left to wander these halls all by yourself, and you think he’d truly cross over into the actual afterlife rather than leave you like that.

The kiss is almost enough to forget where you are and who’s waiting on you inside the apartment. It’s almost enough to have you recreating that fateful night from over a year ago, to let him bend you back over this balcony railing again, and this time, any squeals you let out won’t be of fear. You’d face that fall head on.

His hot hands on your waist, his tongue in your cheek, his knee once again pressed between your inner thighs. Him, him, him-

A sharp rap sounds on the sliding door behind Eddie, and you’ve never jumped apart faster.

It’s Robin and Nancy at the door, Lestat happily wrapped around Robin’s forearm as she waves and points eagerly to him and Nancy simply crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow as though she might have been a disappointed mother rather than a friend at the moment.

You done? Robin mouths, exaggerating her silent enunciation.

As you nod, Eddie only deeply sighs, throwing his head back against the glass with a soft thump. Nancy is quick to throw out a palm against the glass and tap back at him, mimicking swatting him for his theatrics.

Eddie pays no mind to Nancy’s retaliation, or maybe he just doesn’t see it, as he whines out, “I didn’t even get my cigarette.”

“Oh, cut it out, drama queen,” you snicker, trying to hide all your breathlessness as you fully pull away, “We’ve left our son alone long enough. You can chainsmoke to your heart’s desire once we get back home.”

You’re already walking towards the door, Nancy and Robin having retreated further into the kitchen, when he catches your wrist to tug you back close to him. He leans down, deliberate and careful to make sure his lips catch against the lobe of your ear, whispering soft as night, “Can’t chainsmoke if I’m too busy fucking a baby into you, sweetheart.”

It feels like someone’s poured literal fire across your body. As if flames have been dumped over the crown of your head, and are licking their pathway down your spine.

“Eddie.”

If you don’t get inside within the next ten seconds, you’re definitely going to make a decision you regret.

He’s chuckling the entire time he steps around you, opening the door and waving for you to slip inside in front of him. Your entire body is still burning so violently, you barely register the way his fingers hang at his side and make a point to brush the back of your thigh when you pass him.

Bastard, you want to snipe, but instead you just smile.

—

The next morning, you’re awoken by the incessant pinging of your phone.

You try to ignore it at first, burying your head deeper beneath the covers as a headache pulses at the edges of your mind, but after the fifth ping, it becomes impossible.

“Who the fuck is texting us this early?” Eddie’s muffled voice complains into his pillow, facedown with one arm thrown across you securely.

You can even feel him kick his bare legs in a show of defiance next to yours at the edge of the bed. If it wasn’t for the late night prior catching up to you, it’d be something sweet to laugh at.

“What time is it?” you croak, scooching further up the bed, making Eddie’s arm around you only tighten. As if he can stop you from getting out of bed, or delay the inevitable by resisting you checking the phone, “Is it even early?”

His free arm that had been tucked below his pillow flings out to the bedside table quickly, grabbing blindly for at least one of your phones. It doesn’t really matter if it’s yours or his; he’s got the password to both.

“It’s eight in the fucking morning,” he curses, seeming more awake as he notices that he was right in it being early. “How in the fuck is anyone up right now? We didn’t leave until nearly three.”

His arm is finally loose enough for you to sit up properly, tugging the comforter with you to keep your bare chest covered, “Lemme see it.”

“If it’s Harrington, can you post my bail for murder?”

“You’re not killing Steve,” you nonchalantly reply as you snatch the phone right out of his hand. It had been yours, unsurprisingly. You don’t even know if Eddie remembered to put his own phone on the charger before the two of you had promptly passed out. You hardly even remember how you managed to do so, “But – yeah, it’s Steve.”

“Fucking Harringt-”

“And Robin. And Jonathan.”

“Have I mentioned I hate our friends?”

The fog of sleep has officially lifted for you, and despite the wave of fatigue and aching joints you’d argue you’re far too young to be experiencing right now, you smile at your grumpy boyfriend. He exchanges his pillow for your stomach, shoving his entire cheek tightly to you as his arms wrap around you slowly. Clinging to you like a child, squinting against what little light pours in through the curtains.

“You don’t hate them,” you murmur, holding the phone in one hand to get a better look at the phone as the other cards through his curls, “You hate mornings.”

He hmphs in agreement, relaxing against your makeshift scalp massage.

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A PHOTO OF ME WITH A SNAKE IN THIS CHAT?

BIRDIE: it is too early to be yelling

DINGUS: oh my bad

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK DID YOU, ROBIN, SEND A PHOTO OF A SNAKE IN THIS FUCKING CHAT? WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE IS THAT?

You can’t help the gasp that leaves your mouth as you begin to see what the entire commotion was, and Eddie is lifting his head immediately.

“What?” he questions, moving to lift himself up and peer over the top of the phone, nosier than ever, “Why did you gasp? Is someone dead?”

You scroll up, finding the photo being referred to.

“Not yet.”

Steve, clearly partaking in another round of karaoke. Eyes glazed over, mid stumble based on the blur.

“What do you mean not yet?”

Most impressively, most notably, is the snake around his neck.

Lestat, without a care in the world, his upper body being cradled by Steve’s palm as your drunk friend appears to be serenading the snake.

You bite back your smile, eyebrows high as you glance down at Eddie, “You remember when we let Steve sing Taylor Swift while holding Lestat? About… two and a half drinks after he finally noticed we had him, and he didn’t flip out courtesy to all that Absolute vodka?”

“Oh, fuck me.”

Eddie flings himself back to the edge of the bed in search of his phone just as another notification pings.

JOHNNY: I’ll do you one better. I have a video.

You don’t know if you’ve ever watched Eddie excitedly type on his phone faster than he does once he’s read that message, already giggling like a fool long before you can see what he’s sent in the chat.

LOVER BOY: Johnny, my boy, you can’t just say that and NOT send it.

JOHNNY: Unlike you, I don’t have a death wish.

DINGUS: WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE WAS IT? IS IT EDDIE’S?

YOU: i will not stand for this erasure of me as lestat’s mother.

Eddie snorts and looks up at you with glee as he reads your response, “He’s going to kill us, isn’t he?”

“Can we be buried next to each other?” you respond with a question instead, looking at him lazily, “We could have matching headstones.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” his grin is worth whatever Hell there may come to pay with Steve and the Lestat debacle last night, “Should we look up designs or-”

He’s cut off by the trill ringing of his own phone, watching several messages roll into the groupchat in quick succession.

DINGUS: who the fuck is lestat?

BIRDIE: the snake, dingus.

NANCE: As someone who has seen the video… I think Jonathan should send it.

DINGUS: DON’T YOU DARE

You’re a mess of hoarse giggles, hardly able to look at Eddie for the fear of both of you descending right into a madness of laughter. Like two children staying up too late at a sleepover, the room rings out with all your little noises, Eddie propping up his chin to watch you with the widest of smiles.

Except you’re not children – you’re just two idiots, in your shared apartment, with your shared snake in the living room and your shared friends blowing up both your phones.

Mornings have never felt quite as sweet as this kind.

“We’re gonna hear an earful next time he sees us, aren’t we?” Eddie finally sighs wistfully, rolling over flat on his back, head propped up slightly in your lap.

“Oh, definitely,” you nod, taking to twirling his frizzed curls around your knuckles this time rather than scratching mindlessly at his scalp, “But who cares? You saw how in love with the snake he was after a few drinks. He’ll come around, sober this time.”

Eddie doesn’t reply, eyes fluttering shut.

You let the two of you sit in the quiet a bit longer, phones still buzzing with new messages, but the chaos can wait. For now, you just want to drink it in. Rays of vivid sunlight, the silence from the lack of the buzzing AC unit, the birds chirping annoyingly outside the window. You have one foot in relaxation, and one foot in the hangover you know you’ll have to battle once you choose to leave this bed.

“You know what sounds good?” you question, nearly under your breath. You’re really thinking outloud more than anything, but Eddie still entertains you with a hum in his tired state, “Betty’s.”

He’s the equivalent of a puppy dog who’s heard the word walk. One second, Eddie Munson is seemingly dead to the world, and the next, he’s perked up entirely. If it wasn’t for his nude state, he’d probably already be out the door with his keys in hand, dragging you right along with him.

His eyes shimmer despite heavy lids as he asks, “Almond croissants?”

A small nod, an ever present smile. You recall the conversation from the night before as you look into those deep russet eyes, and you see an entire future of late nights and almond croissants reflected back.

“Almond croissants.”

#ghost's stories #twenty four hours #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #beyond the hours #this can sort of be read as a stand alone but there's several references to the main story haha #ive missed them. sigh.#you can tell given the nearly 10k words that almost no one asked for

437 notes · View notes

zorosangell · 7 days ago

Note

I LOVE INN!!! I love devoted pathetic men! I need to see them during the time skip tho! What if during the two year training arc (idk who or what she trains under, you can make that up) she happens to stop by the same island zoro and mihawk where stopping by on their way back to Gloom island. It’s been well over a year since they’ve seen each other, and it’s been pure torture for them both (and also the inconvenience of zoro relearning how to properly shine his own swords and fold his laundry the special way he likes it). I’d like to see your take on this!

⛥ﾟ・。 bento

synopsis: part two of inn -- you and zoro have a heartfelt reunion on the sabaody archipelago... with the help of a kindly fisherman.

cw: fluffy fluff, comfort, zoro is DOWN BAD for reader, reader's a cutie, fools pining pretty much.

a/n: i love writing zoro like this

"Hey, gramps," Zoro started, yanking open the flap and entering Isamu's Fresh Fish tent, his eye snapping over to the old man hunched in the corner. "I'm lookin' to do some fishing."

Confused, Old Man Isamu halted his movement, looking up from his basket of lures to find the infamous, three-sword wielding pirate hunter.

Roronoa Zoro.

Of course, being a lonely old man who lived on the outskirts of Sabaody Archipelago, he had no idea who he was.

I mean, why would he need to know?

But even still, he couldn't help the shiver that rolled down his spine at the sight of the moss-head's scowl, its intensity sending a slight pang of fear through the man's old heart.

"No offense, young man, but I wouldn't exactly peg you as the fishing type..."

Zoro sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Normally, you'd be right... I'm supposed to be meeting some friends on this island, but they haven't made it yet, so I'm bored out of my skull."

Scratching the side of his face, he glanced out to sea, a certain sense of homesickness plaguing his chest.

"I used to have someone to do this for me... but she's not around right now. So I need something to keep me entertained while I wait."

It felt odd offering to do the fishing himself, as he could barely even remember the last time he picked up a fishing rod.

But the feeling was nothing new, as for the last two years the swordsman had been forced to take up the tasks that you had been so insistent on doing for him.

Fishing... Laundry... Shining his swords...

Even dressing his wounds, which, although Perona did for him, still didn't feel the same as when you did it.

It wasn't long before he realized how much he took you for granted, and how subpar his domestic skills were in comparison to yours.

He bristled, annoyed with the aching throb of his heart.

God, he felt pathetic...

A measly two years apart, and all of a sudden he was a ship without a rudder.

"So, you think you can help me out or not?" he asked, snapping himself out of his thoughts.

"Sure. I'll finish getting everything we need ready and then meet you on my boat right over there," Isamu nodded with a warm smile, standing to his full height and pointing toward a small fishing boat moored to the shore. "We'll have to wait a moment, though. A young woman is supposed to be joining me."

Zoro's brow raised, intrigued.

"Young woman?" he asked, expecting some elaboration.

"Why yes! She's been fishing with me for the past two days and is just such a sweetheart!" the old man gushed. "She went into town to go grab us some lunch before we left. Said something about picking up some polishing equipment, too."

That caught the swordsman's attention.

"Polishing equipment?"

"Yeah, for swords," Isamu nodded, leaning in a little closer to the swordsman and lowering his voice. "Between you and me... I think her boyfriend's a pirate. I always catch her lookin' out at the sea, like she's waitin' for something."

He gave Zoro a pat on the back with a small chuckle, a little sorry.

"It's a shame. If I hadn't known, I would've introduced you two. Y'look like her type."

Intrigued, Zoro looked down at himself, fighting off the thunder in his chest.

'Could it be...?'

"What'd she look like?" Zoro asked, straight to the point. "About this tall? (h/l), (h/c) hair? (s/c) skin? Nice (e/c) eyes? Pretty smile?"

Quickly, he shoved his hand into his robe, hurriedly rummaging around until his fingers locked on a piece of crumbled paper.

"Like this?" he asked, hopefully, pulling out your wanted poster and holding it up for the old man to see.

He'd managed to get his hands on it when he joined Mihawk on a grocery run and found it posted up on a fruit stall.

When no one was looking, he shoved it in his pocket, and kept it with him ever since.

Sure, it was a little stalker-ish, but when it came to you he didn't really care.

"Yes! That's her!" Isamu nodded, turning to the man. "She said she's been waiting for some friends to show, too!"

Instantly, the pieces clicked, the old man suddenly realizing your relationship with the swordsman.

He was he thing you were looking out to sea for.

With a knowing smirk, he gave Zoro a slight nudge, amused.

"Oh, ho ho! You must be the fella she's been searchin' for..." he grinned, almost as a congratulations. "You're a lucky guy! She reminds me of my Emi."

With a faint roll of his eyes, Zoro sighed, trying to muffle the burn of his cheeks by turning away.

That is... until a familiar voice cut through the air.

"Hey, watch it, asshole! That bento's for the old man!" you spat, the sound of a scuffle occurring in a nearby alleyway.

'(y/n)!'

An embarrassing amount of excitement soared through his chest, a certain glimmer returning to his eye at the sound of your voice.

Springing into action, he sprinted toward the noise, quickly drawing his sword.

Whoever was on the other side of the altercation wasn't going to be standing by the end of it.

"Wait, young man!"

But Isamu was too late, as the swordsman was already at the mouth of the alley.

Bring his feet to a screeching halt, Zoro lowered himself into an offensive stance, taking a gauge of the situation as he prepped his attack.

You were standing off with a large man, who was about five times your size, huge with muscles and practically cracked out on testosterone.

An opponent like him would've sent you running for the hills two years ago.

But you stared him down with conviction, a small smirk quirking on your lips.

And without warning, you broke into a sprint, charging the man head on.

You had to calculate this just right, or you were going to get squashed like a bug.

Zoro watched with surprise as you used your running start to slide between the thug's legs, nimbly scaling his body like a tree and swirling yourself around to pull him off balance.

"The hell?!"

He tried to grab at you, but your movements were too quick and it wasn't long before you were sat right on his shoulders, your thighs locking tightly around his neck.

"Gimme back the damn bento, you bastard!"

Effortlessly, you threw around your body weight, flipping both of you over and slamming his head into the ground, creating a small crater.

But you weren't done.

With a soft grunt, and a small jerk of your legs, you twisted his neck with a sickening crack—the action sending a warm tingle through Zoro's stomach.

He'd be a liar if he said he didn't find your demonstration incredibly hot.

You pulled yourself up off the ground with a chuckle, using your foot to poke the man, who was down for the count, before snatching the lunchbox back from his grasp.

"Have a nice nap," you wished, cheekily, pulling down your eyelid and sticking out your tongue.

But, when you turned your attention to the alley's exit, your eyes landed on a certain green-haired swordsman—the star of a multitude of different daydreams you'd enjoyed throughout your two years apart.

Time seemed to slow down as your eyes met, him having been staring at you since he entered the alley.

'Gods...'

He was huge, way more muscular than what he once was, and now donned a scar on his left eye, which was permanently shut.

His chest was exposed in his robe, showing off his big pecs, and his hair was still just as green and unruly as you remembered.

Lighting up like the world's brightest Christmas tree, you let out a loud, dramatic gasp, dropping the lunchbox in shock.

"Zoro!" you cheesed, completely forgetting about the bento as you rushed toward him.

"(y/n)! You made it!" Zoro broke into a wide grin, utterly relieved to see you were okay.

Launching yourself into his arms, you tackled him to the ground, pulling him into you as he let out a few laughs at your enthusiasm.

"Ah! Look at you! Those muscles! That hair! You look great! I missed you!" you squealed, ecstatic to see your favorite guy in the flesh.

Though, in your excitement, you had failed to realize you were suffocating the swordsman with your breasts.

"Mished you, twoo!" he nodded, muffled, frantically patting your back. "But yer killin' me!"

Finally noticing, you quickly pulled back, flashing him a sheepish smile.

Relieved, he took in an aggressive gasp, before turning to you with his grin once again.

"That was a new special move, huh? I've never seen you do something like that before!" he asked, eagerly.

"You noticed, eh?" you raised a brow. "Yeah, it's a maneuver my master taught me back on Kibi, a martial arts island."

A proud smirk rose to your lips, having waited to tell him of your success for so long.

"It was hard work... and I got knocked on my ass a bunch... but the monks at my temple managed to beat some kung fu techniques into me," you cheesed, cheekily. "I might not be on par with you yet... but it's only a matter of time."

His eyes found yours, and the way you were looking at him made his chest roar.

You were making it a bit hard for him to focus.

He was already holding himself back on a thread of sanity, and now he had to deal with the fact that you looked like a goddess in human form, and smelled of cocoa butter and vanilla.

Your curves were curvier, your hips were dippier, and you now had an unspoken confidence that could bring any man to his knees.

Literally and figuratively.

You had him like a hook on a line, only he didn't want to be set free.

You found his eyes, slightly confused, as his expression morphed into one you'd never seen.

"I. Love. You." he stated, firm and breathless.

Your eyes shot wide, a sharp tinge of red burning onto your cheeks.

The floodgates were opened.

There was no going back.

Without a moment's hesitation, he pressed his lips against yours, hard, unloading well over two years worth of pining.

You sank into it almost immediately, matching his fervor as you rested your hands on his chest, grabbing him by this robe and pulling him even closer.

The two of you moved together in perfect sync, fitting like puzzle pieces, as you kept up with his rhythm.

He grasped you by the small of your back, pressing you further into him and giving your hips a little squeeze, earning a quiet squeak.

Close wasn't close enough.

He wanted you even closer than that.

He wanted you so much, every part of him in contact with you was on fire.

But, alas, you two were human, and air would need eventually.

The two of you separated with a gasp, cheeks flushed and foreheads resting on each other.

"I don't think you have any idea how long I've been waiting to do that," he smirked, catching his breath.

You smiled, sliding your hands up from his chest to his shoulders.

"I think I do," you confessed, looking up at him with those sparkling, (e/c) eyes of yours.

'Fuuuuuuck...'

He leaned in closer, about to say something else when, of course, he was interrupted.

"Hate to break up a touchin' moment, kids..." Old Man Isamu chimed with a knowing smirk, the two of you snapping your heads up with surprise. "But might I suggest the inn across the street?"

You both separated, for real this time, and stood up, you straightening out the wrinkles in your clothes as you glanced at the building.

Without warning, Zoro scooped you up and tossed you over his shoulder, forcing you to yelp in surprise as he turned around to walk across the street.

"Zoro!"

"Thanks, old man!" Zoro waved with his free-hand, unable to fight the pep in his step as his grip tightened around your thighs.

He cracked a smile, glancing at you on his shoulder with an expression Isamu could only attribute to a man in love.

"Your bento's somewhere over there, sir!" you called, limp, and horribly embarrassed as your swordsman dragged you away. "I'm so sorry!"

"Don't worry, dear!" Isamu assured, waving back. "You kids be safe!"

It made his day to see two young people so utterly smitten with each other, as that seemed to be slowly becoming a rarity.

You both reminded him so much of how he and Emi used to be...

Even still, he couldn't help but dreamily sigh, watching as you two entered the inn, playfully bickering like an old, married couple.

'Ah, young love...'

#zorosangell #one piece #one piece x reader #roronoa #roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #zoro #op

279 notes · View notes

hollowdeath · 1 year ago

Note

Thank god, another Harry Potter lover! 👓⚡️He really deserves more love! ❤️ That’s why I imagine him and the reader settling in a cottage by the sea or lake (you decide) to heal from the Wizarding War. They find comfort and solace in each other, and yes that includes countless lovemaking. 🥰 It’s just the two of them, so they’re free to express their love whenever and wherever they want. They especially enjoy making love on the shore under the stars after a swim, by the fireplace on a soft blanket, and in the bathtub surrounded by candles. They just need to feel and hold each other to remind themselves that everything’s okay now. You can do whatever you want with this, I just wanted to put it out there. Take care!

thank you so much for this request, i fell in love with it as soon as you sent it! i hope you enjoy!

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader (18+)

summary: you & harry have moved away from everything & everyone to a remote cottage where the forest meets the sea. all harry wants after everything he's been through is to find peace, & he finds it in you.

c/w: smut!!! oral sex, penetration, rough sex

word count: 7.3k

harry was up early. he was watching the kettle boil on the gas stove in front of him, enjoying the warmth coming off of it, letting himself relax for just a moment. the steam from the water enveloped his face and felt nice. it was so chilly this morning. the windows were fogged over from the fire raving inside the stove, the wind whistling through the walls of the cottage.

the cottage was beautiful, harry couldn't deny it, though he could do with a bit more insulation. the raw, exposed stone walls were charming, and the moss and vines growing on the outside were something out of a fairy tale, but the fire needed to be fed every hour or so most of the day for at least half of the year or else it dropped below freezing inside. however, luckily, harry came to find wood chopping and trimming to be extremely therapeutic. just him, a sharp ax, and acres of woodlands to explore.

that was another thing harry could never deny about this property: the land was worth every penny. it's not often you find such a stunning cottage sitting on the border between a local forest and, what was essentially, a private beach on the north sea. the beach stretched at least a mile, but was obscured by the trees just behind the cottage. the land wasn't cheap, but harry was ready and extremely eager to spend whatever it took to finally get away from everything, live a simple life, and be alone.

alone with you, that is.

you and harry had gone to school together until the war, but eventually ended up reconnecting and began casually dating just over 2 years ago. since then you and harry had found complete solace in each other, both suffering from the negative side effects of witnessing and experiencing the war firsthand and supporting each other through difficult times. you were mostly struggling with paranoia and anxiety, and were actually the first to suggest getting a place together away from everyone else. you thought it would help if you were out of reach, isolated from the world, practically invisible from all danger.

harry, of course, was utterly haunted by the events of the war, and everything leading up to it. he gets angry at the world, has bouts of depression, deals with monumental grief and guilt, and has chronic, clinical sleep issues caused by nightmares. which is, ironically, the exact reason he's awake so early right now.

as he's pouring the boiling water out of the kettle and over a tea bag, harry can feel his eyelids fighting to stay open. he's barely slept this week, and he's starting to feel the effects of it. he's lightheaded, detached, and just wants to rest.

as he's walking to the front porch, mug in hand, harry takes a moment to pause in the doorway of your master bedroom and admire you. sleeping, surrounded by white cotton comforters, drowning in pillows, your hair wildly framing your peaceful face. he just stays there for a while, leaning against the doorframe, watching. he often watches you sleep when he can't himself. it brings him relief knowing you can get the rest you need.

before he heads outside harry slips on his favorite quarter zip. as he's sitting on the stairs outside, he admires the sound of the waves crashing just a few hundred or so yards away from him. he finishes his hot cup of tea, closes his eyes and lets himself sit in the cold waves of the wind. it's nice. like sleeping without the nightmares.

the moment is short lived as he hears the door creak open behind him. he looks back, and is in disbelief at how beautiful you look just waking up. a nightdress that barely covers anything at all draping around your shoulders, messy bed hair, sleepy eyes and a smile as you stand with the door cracked open, admiring harry in return.

"morning," you say simply, your voice still soft and hoarse from sleeping. harry smiles at you with soft and loving eyes. you walk towards him and let the door close behind you as you cuddle up next to harry on the stairs.

you don't seem to mind the chill in the air. your exposed skin is still hot from the fire burning inside. you lean your head on harry's shoulder, reaching for his mug, seeing there's nothing left, and leaving the mug in his hands. harry's chest hums as he chuckles. "would you like some? kettle's still warm," he asks.

you shake your head. you want to stay right here with harry in this moment.

the sea is so beautiful at this time of the morning. the sun was up, but only just barely above the horizon. no clouds, no birds, just the waves and the wind carrying their breeze.

speaking of breeze, you begin to shiver the longer you're out there in only a sleep dress. you still want to stay with harry, enjoying the view with him, but he notices you shaking.

"darling, let's get you inside,"

harry sits you in front of the stove and opens the small latch, letting the door stay open as you attempt to warm your hands. harry feeds the fire and rearranges the coals to make it burn hotter for you. after a minute or so, he also slips off his quarter zip and pulls it over your torso, smiling to himself at just how big it looks on you.

you find yourself finally starting to warm up, your toes burying themselves into the fur rug you're sitting on. after harry pours you a cup of tea, he joins you next to the fire. "thank you," you tell him with a smile, eagerly taking a sip of the warm drink.

harry's arm wraps around you and he watches the fire as you continue to sip your tea, enjoying the feeling of it warming you up from the inside.

you relish this moment with harry. since moving here barely a month ago, you've grown so fond of these smaller moments throughout the day with him. watching the scenery, watching the fire, sitting in comfortable silence, sharing a kettle of tea in the morning and afternoon, simply enjoying each other's company and the peace you've created for yourselves. it was one of your favorite parts about settling into this little slice of life.

and, of course, there was all the alone time.

while living with harry at grimmauld place was lovely, there was never truly a moment alone with him there. you had your own room with locked doors, but could hear someone walking, talking, cooking, always something in the background.

here, you were completely alone. a lot of people might find this situation to be even more terrifying, being so far away from everything, but you both agreed the isolation made you feel safer. safe from death eaters, safe from drama, safe from other people.

the safety from being so alone out here also meant that you and harry could be vulnerable with each other 24/7. you never had to put on a face or pretend things were okay if they weren't. if harry had nightmares, he could make some tea and enjoy a moment outside alone without anyone trying to psychoanalyze him. if you wanted to lay in bed until it was dark out again, harry wasn't going to judge you for it.

that vulnerability spread into other parts of your life as well.

you set your mug down next to the fire and turned towards harry who's already watching you as you admire his blue eyes, bloodshot from barely sleeping last night, or the night before. you take his face in your hands and just hold him for a moment, feeling him lean into your touch as his eyes flutter close. "i love you, harry," you say just above a whisper, breaking the comfortable silence.

harry looks up at you, but his eyes are now full of lust. you barely have a moment to process what's going on before harry leans in for a gentle, wanting kiss.

harry's always so soft with you despite his clearly strong desire. you've never been with someone who wanted you so bad no matter how many times you've been with them. everything with harry was like the first time all over again; the same desperation and desire to please that just never left.

the kiss quickly gets heated as harry pulls his quarter zip off of you, making you both giggle at the fact that he just put it on you only a few minutes prior. your lips reconnect in a haste, not wanting even a single second away from each other.

harry lays you down on the rug beneath you as his hands make their way to your exposed legs, feeling the heat from the fire on your thighs. his shirt quickly comes off as well from you tugging at it. a moan escapes your lips just watching his body as he pulls the shirt over his head.

harry's suffered from many injuries in these last few years that have left him littered in scars. and while you obviously hate to think about harry in pain, something about his scars drove you crazy with lust. a brave boy who faced death and came back, now healing far away from the cruel world with you as his lover. it was just another reminder that you were safe, that he was finally safe.

harry smiles as he goes in to kiss you again, his hands going right back to your thighs as he pushes your nightdress above your panties. you're holding his face lovingly but harry pulls away from the kiss to look at you. he watches your expression intently as he starts sliding his fingers over your panties, earning a sigh of relief from you. harry's eyes grow darker the longer he teases you. he sits up to use his other hand to hold down your bucking hips, causing you to whine in frustration.

"patience," harry commands from you in a stern voice. you look up at him, jaw lax, breathing uneven, and simply give him a nod.

you love this side of harry. of course you fell in love with the soft, gentle, careful parts of him first, but over time you saw more and more of his angry, controlling, dominant side during sex that you were completely weak for.

living at hogwarts and then grimmauld place right after, most of your intimate moments with harry were kept quiet to avoid being heard. soft whispering, quiet moans, slow movements, and breathless orgasms under a heavy blanket with the lights dimmed. once you moved here, away from everything and everyone, things were different.

of course, you were both still a bit quiet and shy at first, not used to having a place all to your own where no one can hear you for miles. but, slowly, you and harry learned to break old habits and started experimenting together. a lot.

it seemed like neither of you could ever get enough of each other since coming here. you'd always been really attracted to each other, maybe more than the average couple, but something about being alone together in this corner of the world where the forest meets the ocean made you feel so connected, so in tune, and completely and utterly obsessed with each other.

it started with long, drawn-out, foreplay-heavy love making in your new bed to "break it in", sometimes spending hours each day just entangled together on top of the sheets, admiring the other's body and exploring every part. then it would slowly move over to the bath, naturally, after spending so much time sweating together in bed. after a while the sessions would get shorter as you would both be completely exhausted afterwards. instead, they increased in frequency.

either you or harry would find little opportunities to sneak in a quick fuck throughout the day between chores, or would give the other person head as they made dinner in the kitchen. it was thrilling. neither of you had ever been sexual outside of the bedroom/bathroom before, but you found it completely erotic.

you had yet to have sex in front of the fire, oddly enough, but you had thought about it quite a few times before. the warmth of the stove, the soft rug beneath you, the light on harry's skin, the sweat dripping off of him…

"[y/n]," harry said, snapping you out of your daze. "are you even listening to me?" he asks with a smirk.

you blush immediately, so lost in your thoughts about the sex you were just about to have that you couldn't even focus on what was currently happening…

"s-sorry…" you mumble. "you just drive me crazy," you admit shyly.

harry's hand pushes further into your hips, a groan crawling out of his throat as he glares at you. "don't make me cum already, darling," he growls, his voice deep and rumbling in his chest.

you whimper under his pressure, your back arching as your body attempts to find some kind of release from the growing tension inside of you.

"so fucking desperate already," harry says, clearly enjoying watching you struggle under his control. "if i could resist you even a little bit i would sit here and watch you struggle all day," he tells you as he leans into your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin. you wince and squeal, your heart racing from the pain.

harry smirks at your reaction. he sits up and releases the pressure on your hips, causing them to buck upwards instinctively. a pathetic "please," is all you're able to muster as you attempt to catch your breath.

normally harry wants to hear you do a lot more begging than that, but he's just as desperate as you are at this point and he can't resist you much longer.

harry props your legs up for him after helping you take off your panties, throwing them to the side as he lays between your thighs. you prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at harry who's hungrily looking between your eyes and your pussy. your breathing is rapid and shallow as your heart continues to thump in your chest. even after all these years and all the times you've seen harry between your legs you just never get used to the sight. he still gives you butterflies like a nervous girl with a crush.

your head rolls in pleasure as harry starts kissing your thighs; even in both of your desperate states, even when he's at his most dominant, he's still the gentle, loving harry you're so in love with.

harry's hands find your own and intertwine your fingers together as his tongue begins exploring your pussy. you can feel yourself getting even more wet as harry's mouth attaches itself to you, enjoying how you taste. moaning, whining, hips bucking onto harry's tongue, you start to feel yourself sweat from both the fire and harry's intense gaze up at you.

"f-fuck," you cry, your thighs instinctively squeezing around harry's head. he can't help but moan as he sucks on your clit, practically letting you ride his face.

you reach for your silky nightdress and lift it above your chest, exposing your nipples to the warmth of the fire as you continue watching harry make your legs tremble.

harry's eyes droop in pleasure. one of his hands grabs for your tits and the other applies the same pressure to your hips as before. you let out your first real moan above a whimper, your hips still trying to grind against harry's mouth as he continues pushing you further into the rug.

his tongue's now inside of you, teasing you as you clench around him, your thighs still quivering.

"harry, harry, please," you say breathlessly, begging for more. harry ignores you, instead only going slower to drive you mad. you groan in frustration. he looks back up at you for only a second, but you can see the smirk in his eyes.

his hand lets go of your tits before making its way to your thighs, pushing them away from his head as harry takes a moment to breathe. you're blushing, completely flustered, eyes half-open. "sorry," you apologize.

"don't be. give me more." harry demands.

his hand pushes further into your pelvis, his elbow holding down your thigh as you wince at the pressure.

harry's mouth returns to your clit as his fingers feel how wet you are for him. your body jolts at the sensation, but harry just holds you down tighter. starting with one finger, harry pushes inside you slowly as you writhe under his grasp. your hands get tangled in his hair again, desperately pulling his face further into your pussy.

harry just chuckles, looking up at you as he slowly pushes another finger inside you. you gasp, your grip in his hair tightening as your other hand plays with your tits. just the look in harry's eyes watching you chase your high is enough to bring you close to the edge.

harry's fingers were pumping in and out of your pussy, his lips and tongue still teasing your clit. your thighs threatened to close again, but harry kept them spread open for himself. "enough," he states, planting his elbows into your thighs and his hand against your pelvis. he glares up at you as he repositions himself. "stay."

you can feel your body react to the aggression in his voice. this is the hungriest, and hottest, side of harry you've ever seen. you're already brought back to the brink of orgasm as soon as you can see harry's fingers pumping inside you again, his wrist and forearm veins pronounced against the light of the fire as he picks up his speed.

the moans coming out of your mouth are filthy and involuntary, your mind going blank at the sudden rush of pleasure through your body. once harry's tongue begins circling your clit again, you don't have a chance at lasting much longer.

"i-i, harry, stop, i'm–" is all you're able to get out before your legs begin shaking, your head thrown back, crying out in overwhelming pleasure. it feels so good not having to hold back your moans anymore.

harry's lips detach from you, swollen, covered in your wetness. his fingers continue thrusting into you, gently now as you ride out your high. he slowly removes them after a moment, his hand and elbows relieving the pressure that kept you pinned to the ground.

you're still whining, your legs aching from struggling against harry's weight. they feel impossibly heavy as you try to bend your knees up. harry just watches you, enjoying the aftermath of his work.

you're still seeing stars by the time harry's pants have come off, his cock barely peeking through the front of his boxers. he starts rubbing himself through the fabric, his breathing becoming labored as you watched him in a daze.

you look up at him innocently through your eyelashes, your mouth slightly ajar as you lean your weight to one elbow, using the other hand to take his place. he lets you take over, slowly stroking his erection through his boxers, enjoying his gaze down at you from above. his hand goes to your cheek, softly tracing the curve of your smile.

his fingers delicately open your lips before roughly shoving them into your mouth. you make a surprised noise, but quickly begin sucking and licking his fingers. he pulls his boxers down with the other hand, and uses your spit to lube himself up. you lick your own fingers and do the same, helping guide his cock into you with a groan of both pleasure and discomfort.

harry gradually thrusts into you, letting you adjust to him, taking his time with you. he watches your aching pussy welcome his cock eagerly, your legs already starting to tremble from the pressure building inside you again. "oh, fuck," harry's voice cracks, his hands gripping your thighs as they continue to involuntarily shake.

a hand flies to your mouth, barely able to contain yourself already. seeing harry's face of relief as his cock slides all the way inside you only makes you clench around him tighter. he lets out a struggled breath, his grip on your thighs only tightening as he spread them open for himself again.

harry's eyes are closed in bliss, his thrusts slow but deep, forcing a whine from your throat each time he's completely inside you. he's starting to sweat, his hair hanging loosely around his forehead, arms flexed to keep his grip on you, his body leaning down into yours as he starts picking up his pace.

harry looks down at you. one of his hands grabs the hand covering your mouth. "let me hear you, angel," he speaks gently but his voice is hungry, immediately earning a soft moan from your lips. he smiles, leaning down to kiss you sloppily.

harry takes this time to really pick up his speed, adjusting his position to roughly thrust himself into your throbbing pussy. his hands grab for the back of your knees, forcing your legs to bend back as he only pushes himself into you more.

"oh my god," you gasp into harry's kiss, your hands wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself. harry's forehead rests against yours, looking down, glasses fogged up from the heavy breathing and heat from the fire. he's watching himself from your angle, slowing down his thrusting to a torturous pace. you both groan at the feeling and sight of harry pushing his cock completely inside you and slowly pulling back out before thrusting into you again.

"fuck, baby, you take my cock so well, feel so fucking good," harry says breathlessly into your ear. your nails dig into his shoulders as you try not to cum again already just from harry's voice. you're both sweating, faces pressed together, the fire slightly dying beside you but still creating a warm glow.

"y-you're, mmph, i'm so close, again," you cry, letting yourself rest back on the soft rug. you feel so at peace despite the growing tension in your stomach – watching harry prop himself up with one hand on the ground beside you and the other still holding your leg back, his chest heaving as he continues thrusting inside you with a growing pace.

harry looks at your twisted expression, eyes glossed over and cheeks flushed, your tits bouncing as he roughly uses your body for his pleasure.

"yeah?" harry looks at you, his grip on your leg tightening as he fucks you roughy into the rug. "fucking cum for me," he commands from you.

you barely need his permission before you're already over the edge, legs uncontrollably shaking, eyes rolling back, incoherent words getting lost in your broken moans and cries of pain.

it's all harry needs before he feels himself release inside you, still thrusting into you slowly as his cum spills out of your pussy.

your body is shaking from the sensation, your legs still vibrating as you clench around harry's cock. he struggled to finally pull out of you.

still trying to catch his breath, harry lovingly rubs your thighs as he watches your swollen pussy ache for the feeling of his cock again.

"so fucking beautiful, my love," harry sighs, relaxing his body on top of yours, his head in your neck. "my beautiful, beautiful girl," he repeats, covering you in kisses as he showers you with compliments.

you just giggle at him, exhausted, trying to come back down to earth.

"i can't…move," you mumble between breaths, your eyes drooping closed as your feet touch back down on the rug. you feel even more weak than before.

harry hums, kissing your forehead. "it's okay, i've got you, darling," he says with a warm smile.

he stands up, slowly, but isn't in as much pain as he expected. his knees are sore for sure, but otherwise, he couldn't feel better.

he leans down to help you sit up, guiding your body into his arms as he picks you up bridal style, your head resting in his chest. you giggle again but you're too weak to reject the gesture. he carefully carries you to the bathroom just down the hall from the living room.

harry runs you both a warm bath as you watch from the counter. he's still naked, as are you, but it's not awkward or sexual – it's just natural.

he shuts the water off and reaches for you once again. "i'm okay now," you insist, standing from the counter and steadying yourself with his hands. he still helps you walk to the tub before helping you climb inside. the water's extremely hot, but it feels so nice on your sweaty, aching skin.

"i'll be right back, gotta feed the fire, just wait for me, yeah?" harry says before he dips out of the bathroom.

looking around you as you warm the rest of your body with the water, you notice the candles sitting around the tub from the last time you both took a bath together. just the flash of the memory through your brain is enough to make your stomach twist into knots again. harry had you bent over the side of the tub as water splashed everywhere, the feeling of freedom and carelessness intoxicating you both as you cared about nothing but each other's highs.

with a flick of your wet hand, you light all the candles again, and the room is lit with a warm glow. it's not often you use magic anymore, harry prefers to do things manually now that you're both caring for a piece of land, but the convenience of certain spells are too useful to forget completely.

walking back in, harry smirks at all the candles being lit. he admires you for a moment, naked, sweaty, half submerged in the huge clawfoot bathtub surrounded by the glow of the candles. "trying to insinuate something, love?" harry asks, closing the bathroom door behind him.

you blush, curling your knees into your chest. "just thought it'd be nice to have some light," you say softly.

harry grabs you both towels and sets them next to the tub before climbing in himself. he positions himself behind you, holding your body as he guides you to relax into his chest. once you laid your head back, you and harry sat in comfortable, warm silence for a long while.

it takes a few minutes before harry's hands begin rubbing at your stomach, slowly, making ripples throughout the water as you lower your knees, letting harry comfort you. he's humming softly, your head rumbling in his chest. he rests his head next to your own and watches his hands from your perspective.

his rubbing gets further and further down your stomach, running his hands along your waist and hips before finally grabbing at your inner thighs roughly. you let out a pathetic whimper, watching his hands from above the water.

"is it bad that i already need you again?" harry chuckles, half joking but half already turned on. you shake your head quickly, your hips thrusting up for relief, moaning at his words. "no, need you, please," you respond desperately, looking over at him.

harry's eyes are darker once more, watching as his hands gradually move to your sensitive pussy. you groan in response, but harry quickly kisses you to cover it. "i know, baby, just let me take care of it," he says into your lips.

slowly circling your clit with soft fingers, harry watches as your eyes droop more and more from the building pleasure. eventually his fingers are back inside of you, gently pumping in and out. his head turns back to your body as he watches you react to him. his other hand goes for your tits, grabbing one roughly from just above the surface of the water.

while it feels good being teased you're insanely desperate for harry once again. your hand reaches behind you, feeling harry's growing erection against your back. harry's grip on you tightens as your hand starts stroking his cock slowly under the water.

"fucking dirty girl," he groans under his breath, taking his fingers out of your pussy to continue rubbing your clit. you cry out at the loss of feeling, your hand squeezing around harry as he just enjoys the feeling.

soon, harry's moved your hips to align with his, your arms holding your body up on either side of the tub as you slowly insert harry back inside your pussy once again. the familiar feeling is only enhanced by being underwater, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease as you adjust to the feeling.

"oh my god," you sigh, your stomach already tightening, thighs still a bit shaky. harry's guiding your hips expertly, groaning in pleasure watching your ass dip in and out of the water onto his lap. his head is resting against the edge of the tub, mind blank, solely focused on your pleasure and his.

"fuck, harry," you whimper again, rolling your hips around on his cock before thrusting it inside you again. harry wishes you could see just how sexy you look from this angle, your hair flowing down your back, your skin glistening in the candlelight, the water droplets running down your hips, it's enough to make him resist the urge to finish already.

"you're so perfect," harry groans. he smacks your ass, slapping the water with it, causing you to squeal and quicken your pace. the same filthy moans are still spilling from your mouth, hardly able to contain yourself in this situation. something about using the time meant to help each other clean up to only continue fucking makes you feel so dirty, so used, and it's driving you crazy.

harry suddenly stops you, much to your disappointment, and tells you to trust him. "just get out and stand up," he says.

you do as he says, and eventually harry has you bent over the bathroom counter, barely lit by the candles behind you. he slowly returns his cock inside of you, your bodies dripping water everywhere.

as harry's thrusts become more consistent, one hand grabs for your shoulder and the other for your damp hair. he forces your face to look in the mirror, your eyes barely open from the pleasure. "watch," he commands. your eyes shot open at his voice, tracing the shape of your shadows in the mirror in front of your face.

harry loses himself in you, his head rolling back in pleasure hearing you struggle to take his cock for a second time. you're trying to moan, say anything at all, but your voice is incomprehensible as harry only becomes rougher with you.

"god damn it, [y/n]," harry spits out, his voice clearly exhausted. his hands travel back to your tits, pulling you back up into him as he continues pounding into you from behind. you're a mess in his hands as they roughly grope your tits.

"look at you," harry growls into your neck, looking into the mirror just in front of you as his gaze meets yours. "so fucking sexy,"

your hands desperately grip the edge of the counter for balance, your legs getting more and more weak by the second. harry pushes you further over the counter, his moans becoming urgent.

"i'm gonna fill you up because you're fucking mine, yeah? look at this perfect body of yours," harry's voice strains, his sweaty chest against your back as he forces you to continue watching yourself get pounded in the mirror, one arm over your chest and the other holding your hips. the light of the candles is just enough to let you see harry's dark expression. "fucking perfect, just for me,"

you haven't been able to get a single word out, your mind spinning as harry only gets more and more desperate, his pace getting sloppy.

"fuck, baby, just be good for me and let me cum inside your tight little pussy, hm? let me show you what's mine,"

you're already starting to cum just from harry's words. the overwhelming pleasure racks your body harshly as harry continues to use you for himself. shaking, barely able to stand without his help, your voice is breaking as you cry out in ecstasy for the third time just this morning.

harry's barely able to last much longer. his thrusts have slowed to uneven, jerky motion as he feels his cum spilling deep inside you. breathy moans and aching bodies, harry rests against you with your body limp against the counter. he lifts his head from your neck to kiss your skin softly, everywhere, slowly helping guide you back to the tub for a second time. your legs are weaker than before and you're barely able to contribute as harry leans you into the water, still kissing your damp skin.

"i love you, i love you," he's mumbling between kisses.

you're too weak and dizzy to respond in any way, still trying to catch your breath as harry begins cleaning your skin. he rubs a soft rag along your chest, neck, back, shoulders, and arms. the whole time he's complimenting you lovingly, a gentle touch and warm gaze upon your tired face.

after washing himself, harry also dries you off, carrying you back to bed before getting you both dressed in comfortable, warm pajamas. "just rest for today, my love," he told you as he laid you down. you reach for his hands. "stay?"

harry smiles. you didn't have to ask, it was literally his bed too, but he admires how soft and innocent you are in this moment. though he loves to be rough with you like he just was, there's nothing more special in the world to him than the gentleness between you two. his whole life has been nothing but challenges, setbacks, problems, and you're everything but. he just wants to be soft and gentle with you.

harry climbs under the sheets, his body also succumbing to the ache and exhaustion. he wraps himself around you, already falling asleep against his chest. harry joins not long after, finally getting his much needed sleep without the threat of his nightmares.

a few weeks later it's just a bit warmer out than it has been, so you and harry immediately started the day doing outdoor chores while you could. harry was chopping wood as you cleaned up around the cottage garden. it was too cold most of the year to grow much of anything out of it, but you still liked to keep it manageable for the smaller animals that stopped by to look around.

you also took the time to admire harry, shirtless, sweaty, groaning each time he drops the ax into another cut of firewood. his body had become well built from all the manual labor he's been doing lately, carrying entire trunks or stumps of trees out of the forest, lifting heavy bags of mulch and dirt for you, digging out the flower bed around the cottage, he was more muscular and toned than you'd ever seen him. it never mattered what harry's body looked like to you, you always found him attractive no matter what, but you couldn't deny that his toned back and broad shoulders got you more worked up than usual lately.

it was nice getting to work on the home with each other, a comfortable silence filling the day broken by the occasional question, favor, kiss, or compliment. it was peaceful, this routine you both had, and it felt so natural to work with each other. you hardly had to communicate your ideas because you were often thinking the same things.

tea in the morning, chores once the sun is out, taking a dip in the ocean at sunset, and having a warm home cooked dinner in the dark, the cottage lit from within from candles and the fireplace. it was perfect. for both of you.

and, of course, the sex had never slowed down as well.

you had both joked at the beginning of your move that you didn't think you could ever stop yourselves now that you were isolated from the world, but that's exactly what ended up happening. neither of your desires could be relieved no matter how many times you tried. not that you wanted them to go away by any means, it was just overwhelming, the feral need to spend hours each day pleasuring each other in every way possible. it was always passionate and desperate for more, never becoming repetitive or any less exciting. it was exactly what you both needed and wanted all the time.

as the sun was setting for the day, you and harry sat together and shared an orange you had gotten at the market just a few miles away earlier that week. you were lucky to be close enough to something that offered fresh produce, even in the colder parts of the year. harry watched the waves crashing against the sand, his knees to his chest as you both steady yourself on a large rock between the cottage and the water.

"thank you," harry says softly. you look over at him, his hands now empty as he's swallowing the last of his orange slices. you finish yours as well. "of course," you respond.

harry shakes his head. "no. really. thank you, [y/n], for everything." he says, still watching the sea. you blush, giving him a soft smile before turning to watch it as well. "i'm finally, really, truly happy. for the first time in my life, i feel at peace." harry explains, still speaking softly just over the crashing waves.

you could cry just from harry's words. all you've ever wanted was for him to feel safe. he's had such a difficult start in life and didn't deserve what happened to him, or what he was forced to do. he deserved simplicity. a normal life in a normal home doing normal chores. he deserved to be happy.

overcome with love, you stand from the rock and grab harry's hand, pulling him with you. he silently follows you down the beach. once you're a few yards away from the shore, you pull down the straps of the dress you had been working in off your shoulders, letting the material slide right off your body and onto the sand as you continue heading towards the water.

you turn to look at harry, and he's stunned at how beautiful you are. the shape of your body against the warm sunset over the water, nothing but a pair of panties covering your sweaty skin. your hair was flowing in the salty breeze of the ocean, hands reaching for his as your feet began to touch the water.

harry's ripped and dirty blue jeans come off as well as his glasses, leaving them behind on the sand as he grabs for your hand. you walk into the water together, slightly shivering from the lingering chill beneath the warm surface, but quickly adjusting to the temperature. harry's only admiring you, like he always does, as you dip your head under the water and come up, pushing the hair out of your face.

harry does the same, wiping his face of the sweat and dirt that's collected over the work day with the salty water. this has become one of his favorite parts of your routine together, cooling off in the ocean after a long day. not just to wash off the sweat and stress of the day, but also to admire you in all your glory under the shining sun.

harry wastes no time reaching for you, pulling you into him as you float in his grasp. he holds you for a moment, mesmerized by the light in your eyes, a smile permanently fixed on his face. "my beautiful girl," he reminds you, his forehead leaning against yours. you hum, reaching your hands to his neck as you pull him in for a heated kiss.

you've had sex in the ocean a few times now, and it's quickly become one of your favorites. it's the ultimate form of freedom being naked together making love in the gentle waves, harry holding you around his waist as he hugs your body into his.

most nights you're both too tired from working to go further than sloppy making out and feeling each other up; but other nights, like tonight, you're both too desperate to care if it hurts.

as harry continues kissing you he carries you back to the shore, your legs still around his waist as he lays you down onto the sand. the water just barely washes over harry's legs as it meets the shoreline. you relax into the warm sand beneath you, harry already pulling your panties off. you giggle at his eagerness. he smirks, his hands gripping your waist hungrily.

you can see harry's erection through his soaking wet boxers barely hanging off his hips. just as eagerly, you pull them down for him as he kicks them to the side.

harry easily slides his cock inside of you, letting out a struggled sigh of relief at the feeling. no matter what's going on around him, harry will always feel perfectly in place when he's inside of you.

your hands are tangled in his wet hair, gripping tighter as he bottoms out. he moans desperately, leaning in for another kiss. his pace evens out to a familiar rhythm, your body wrapping around him as he fucks you into the wet sand. the warm sunset is perfectly met with the chilly breeze of the water that's still waving over both of you gently. each time it gives you shivers, your body arching into harry's from the shocking feeling.

harry's not sure if he's ever wanted to finish this quickly before. it was so perfect, this moment, the sun, the waves, you. he just couldn't believe this was his life. making love to the most beautiful girl in the world where the land meets the sea. he never thought life could be this simple and beautiful, but with you it was effortless.

he pulled away from the kiss to simply look at you, eyes drooping, cheeks blushing, eyebrows pinched together in desperation. he smiled. "i love you," he says so simply, his thrusts beginning to stutter against you. you smile back, eyes still half open. "love you, harry, so much," you manage to say between heavy breaths.

you pull him back in for a kiss, and feel his body weaken on top of you, leaning on his elbows for support in the uneven sand. "baby, baby," he tries to warn you, but you just continue kissing him and wrap your legs back around his waist, pulling him deeper into your pussy.

he completely unravels, pumping his cum inside you as he cries against your lips. "fuck," he keeps groaning in a broken voice. you can feel yourself letting go as well, your thighs squeezing around harry's waist as the water crashes into your body again, making you shake even more.

you both enjoy the moments after your climaxes together, letting the water continue to run over you as the sun's light falls below the horizon. harry, still inside you, his body resting on top of yours, tells you he loves you in the softest, sleepiest voice he can manage.

you kiss his head, reminding him how much you love him.

you both eventually sit up, covered in sand, and chuckle to each other about it. harry invites you back into the water where he washes you off, giving you a loving kiss under the dim sky.

he continues holding you there in the gentle waves, the emerging stars lighting the sky above you. he's a bit cold now, but he couldn't be more warm inside. harry just loves you and the little life you've built with him here on the sea. he feels happy, loved, and completely at peace in the ocean with you in his arms.

2K notes · View notes

prettiedup · 7 months ago

Note

can u do more tojiii 🧁

young & beautiful ୨ৎ

your parents are on a business trip, which gives you more freedom than a sheltered 20 year old should have. they left the country thinking their daughter would continue to drive around your suburban neighborhood, continue going to both your ballet and pilate classes, go to your college classes and stay there retaining all of the information you possibly can. it’s the basic things they expected of you.

little did they know you were far far from home. your expensive shoes plopped against the cracked concrete. in the distance, you could hear the sound of multiple police sirens ringing throughout. they seemed to grow close before disappearing and the crying sirens becomes quieter and quieter. your eyes take in the environment in front of you, the buildings that you could tell were once vibrant now lost their color. cracks and chunks of the bricks used to build them up were missing and large colorful vandalism littered spots on the buildings. corner stores with peeling paint and flickering neon signs offer a glimpse of the local people here struggling to survive.

it feels like a gray filter is casted on this side of town. and with winter being seconds away from approaching, everything is colder and dull. the sky grumbles, threatening—no, warning people of what’s to come. a group of guys are standing at a trash littered corner as you and toji past by them. you curiously look at their faces, they’re all already looking at you with a gleam in their eyes. you gasp to yourself and clutch toji’s hand tighter in fear.

“got ya’ a young one!” one of the guys call out to toji, “bet that pussy’s nice ‘nd tight!”

toji walks faster, his grip tightening on your hand. you struggle to keep up with his fast steps. his normal walking is your fast walking, you’re almost on the borderline of jogging. the fall air sores through your chest as you continue looking around the neighborhood curiously.

the two of you walk until you get to a worn down building. it’s littered with moss, vines, and graffiti. toji lets go of your hand to pick out a single key in his pocket.

“go inside. i’ll be back.” he tells you. you can’t stop yourself from frowning.

“i-what? no!” you say with widened eyes. as interesting as it is to be in a part of town that your parents demanded you never come over, things are still dangerous. the thought of going into a building you’ve never been inside and just waiting for him has your heart thumping in fear. anything could happen while he’s gone.

“‘m not askin’.” he could see you trying to form up some rebuttal, some way to argue with him and he can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. “i’ll only be gone for about ten minutes. you can be a good girl and wait for ten minutes, right?”

you’re stiffly nodding your head while looking up at him. you try to convince yourself that ten minutes is not that long of a wait.

“i’ll knock six times and then say ‘gumi’. if someone knocks but doesn’t say the code word don’t open the door, understand?” he speaks carefully while looking into your eyes. he’s hoping all of his words are actually sticking and not just going through one ear and flowing out the other.

“fine..” you’re sighing and pouting, hoping that that’ll make him for bad for leaving you alone so soon.

he examines your face for a few seconds. he doesn’t say anything, the two of you quietly look into each other’s faces until a dog barks and interrupts you both. toji steps back, giving you more personal space.

you don’t know if you’re supposed to give him a kiss or hug goodbye. your relationship with him is still new and timid at times. your feet are moving before you realize it and your arms have a mind of their own as they wrap around his figure. to your surprise, toji accepts your hug, though it is awkward. he pats your head like some dog.

after a few prolonged seconds, he’s pulling you away from him. “alright, kid. go inside.”

and you listen. with shaky hands, you bring the key to the knob. to your dismay, it takes only a second to unlock the door. the door creaks as it slowly opens. you look back at toji one more time, he’s still waiting for you to go completely inside before walking away.

you let out a breath before stepping into his house. you make sure to lock the door behind you.

the inside of the house is sparsely furnished with basic necessities—a worn-out couch, a small dining table with mismatched chairs. there are warm tones of the walls try to add a comforting touch to the otherwise bleak space, but they can't hide the signs of neglect. the floorboards creak with every step, and the curtains are thin, barely filtering out the dim light from the outside light. you’re used to big elegant houses so to see something so small and compact has your eyebrows rising. as you tour throughout the entire house, every room is just about the same. bare with just hints of being lived in. you curiously open the refrigerator, you’re met with nothing. just a bottle of half drunken hennessy, and a sandwich. you’re in disbelief that someone actually lives like this.

luckily, the electricity worked. you turned the heat up before trailing into his bedroom. the room is a master, it has a queen sized bed in the middle of the floor and a single dresser with a tv sitting on top of it. you strip out of your clothing besides your bra and panties. you rummage through his drawers until you find a solid black shirt. you put it on, it fits you like an oversized dress. it stops right under your ass and the littlest movement would expose it off. you fold your discarded clothes, and place them on top of his dresser. you grab your phone and lay down on his bed.

his house is quiet. too quiet. there’s nothing to hear besides your thoughts. you can’t help but to wonder how he lives like this. so alone with nothing but his thoughts. you sigh out to yourself, it’s almost close to the ten minute mark.

you mindlessly scroll on your phone until you finally hear it. you rush out of his bed and make a straight line to the door.

knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.

“gumi.”

you let out a breath and swing the door open. toji stands there with a. smug smirk on his face. as you look up at him, breathless, you notice a newfound small scar on his cheek.

“you don’t look happy t’see me, cutie.” toji practically pushes you to the side. you’re unsteady on your feet before catching your balance.

“no! i am! i’m very happy!” you exclaim. you watch as his fingers go to unzip his jacket, your eyes widen when you realize his knuckles are red and bruised.

his eyes follow what you’re looking at and when he realizes you’re reacting to his bruised knuckles he just chuckles. "i see you made yourself comfortable." he comments.

you bite down on your lip trying to hide your giddy smile. "it smells like you.”

toji only hums at your statement. he walks through his house and you follow behind him like a lost puppy. your uncertain steps travel closely behind his confident ones. he leads you to the bathroom, you don’t know if you should stop at the door or continue to waltz through.

“c’mon.” he ushers you.

he turns the shower on and lets it run for a little. he takes the time to take his clothes off, he smirks to himself when he sees your curious eyes linger on every inch of his body. once he’s bare, he walks over to you, pulling you closer to him. his hands wonder on your body before he’s tugging on your shirt, signaling that he wants it off. he helps you undress yourself, once you’re naked in front of him, he’s ogling at your body while letting out a pleased whistle.

“step in.” he tells you.

you follow his directions and step in the tub. now that you’re actually in it. the tub is quite condemned and with how big toji is you briefly wonder if the two of you are going to fit.

he hands you a white rag before stepping in behind you. you’re stiff, you’ve never showered with another person, ever. you’re used to showering in luxury bathrooms with the upmost space. you see that there’s only one bottle of body wash, which is also something you’re not used to. you use a plethora of skincare products that make you feel nice and clean, not some off-brand from the convenience store.

“since it seems like you don’t know how to wash yourself.” toji tuts before taking the rag out of your hands. he pours a nice amount of gel on the fabric before wetting it.

the feeling of his hands cascading around your body is .. weird. his movements are extremely gentle, he touches you like you’re some sort or sensitive rare artifact. you find yourself relaxing against his body as he cleans you. he starts from the neck and works his way down, even going so far as to clean the inside of your intimate areas with just water. you try to return the favor to him. he insists on washing himself but he does let you wash his back. once the two of you are cleaned, you stay under the slowly turning cold water until it’s fully freezing.

there’s only one towel out when you two step out. you look up at toji cautiously.

“forgot to grab the other.” he shrugs. he wraps the towel around your body and then opens the bathroom door.

you two make your way to his bedroom. you could hear the sound of rain pattering against the roof and occasional thunder blooming throughout the air. toji turns on a single lamp as a source of light.

the two of you dry off in your own towels. once you’re dry, you’re looking up at toji. the very few times you’ve been around him it feels like your brain stops working and you have to look at from guidance. you can’t tell if he gets annoyed by it or not, if he does he doesn’t say anything.

toji guides you to sit on the edge of the bed. before you could ask why, his lips are on yours. he kisses you greedily, he sucks up both your tongue and air. with you being not so experienced, you struggle to keep up with his experienced mechanisms. you can’t stop yourself from leaning back, and toji follows you. he makes sure not to drop his entire weight so that he wouldn’t crush you.

the two of you continue to sloppily make out for a while, the kiss morphing from just lips to tongue and spit swapping. you let out a soft moan as toji begins grinding his growing hard on against your clit.

he slowly pulls his lips away from your lips and moves his lipa down to your jaw and neck. he kisses you and occasionally licks spots here and there, he makes sure not to leave any spots on your neck. he’s grown now, if he was still in his early 20’s he would’ve left marks to let people know there’s already a claim on you. but he’s past that childish point in his life.

“y’wanna get fucked, baby? hm? ‘s that why you came alway over here?” he taunts you. his hips are moving faster and one incorrect slip up would have his cock slipping right inside your wet cunt.

“y-yes. please.” breathy gasps are escaping past your lips. the friction he’s creating is so delicious and addictive.

“g’na give it to you, baby. g’na fuck this pussy. g’na mold it to fit only my cock.” he’s letting out a drawn out groan as he slides his cock into you. you’re both moaning out to each other. the second all of his cock is fit into you, he’s immediately pulling his cock out only to slam it back inside of you.

he straightens his back, putting some distance between the two of you. he grabs your legs and places them on his shoulders. he watches as your boobs bounce with every rough thrust. his eyes trails along your body, the sight of you frantically clutching the bedsheets while still carrying this angelic look has him growing even harder.

“fuck.” you whimper out. his cock is so thick and it fills you up so well. “feel’s s-so good, tojiii.” you moan.

“mhmm. g’na let me fill this pussy up, ‘mma put a baby in you.” his breathing becoming heavier and you can’t help but gush out some more wetness at his claims of breeding.

“fuck a baby ‘nto me, toii, pleaseee.” you moan out.

toji grins at your words. if a baby is what you want, that’s what he’ll give to you.

#requests ♡#prettiedup ♡#prettiedup’s jjk fics .ᐟ toji #olderbf!toji #hes so dad coded lmfaooo #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushigro x reader #toji x you #toji smut #toji x reader

990 notes · View notes

imjustreadinglmao · 6 months ago

Text

BLUE PART II

Paring: Azriel x reader, Lucien x platonic!reader

Series summary: After Azriel and Elain‘s courtship is revealed, their mates, Lucien and Y/N, are left to deal with the consequences. While fighting against Koschei and for Prythian‘s freedom, Y/N has to navigate her emotions and learn how to live with the heartbreak of a one sided mating bond. But what happens when secrets are revealed and everything turns out differently than they thought?

Warnings: unrequited love, death, detailed descriptions of fights and blood, angst, characters being idiots

A/N: my last azrielxreader post won’t appear in the tags so reblogs are very much appreciated.

Word count: 3.3k

It’s a beautiful, crisp spring morning. The sun is shining, birds are singing, and the wind carries the lovely scent of freshly baked pies. I sigh at the prospect of leaving this peaceful place and trading it for the Autumn Court.

As I push the heavy oak doors of the River House open, I can feel anxiety coursing through my veins. After fleeing Autumn seventy-three years ago, I didn’t expect to return there so soon, even if only temporarily. It was difficult for me to leave. I couldn’t risk telling anyone about my plans, so I never had the chance to say goodbye.

Knowing my father, he had probably been more concerned about how me leaving would affect his standing with the High Lord and the other noble families. But my mother and sister… I would give a lot to see them again.

All those years, I have missed the familiarity of my home court, the traditions, and the celebrations I cherished so much as a child.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I step into the foyer. Rhysand, Amren, Azriel, and Lucien are already there, waiting for me.

Except for Lucien and me, who are wearing traditional Autumn Court attire, everyone else is dressed in midnight black.

Lucien looks up as I enter, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You look… convincing,” he says.

I let out a breathy laugh at that. The last time he saw me in Autumn colors was at a ball my family hosted, which ended with me puking my guts out, most of it landing on Lucien’s shoes.

Judging by the face he is making, he hasn’t forgotten either.

Azriel, standing beside him, nods in agreement. “It suits you,” he says quietly, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary.

His shadows peek over his shoulder as if they want to take a look too.

I try to ignore the flutter of emotions his words stir within me. Instead, I focus on the mission ahead, on the role I must play. The safety of Prythian depends on our success, and I can’t afford to let myself get distracted.

Rhysand steps forward, a mischievous smile on his face. “I have to say, you both pull off Autumn Court fashion far better than I expected. Maybe we should visit the Autumn Court more often.”

Amren, her eyes assessing our disguises, retorts, “If you spent as much time on strategy as you do on fashion critiques, we’d have won the war by now.”

I have to cover my mouth to not laugh out loud and accidentally anger the century-old creature that’s lurking beneath that Fae body.

Rhys just rolls his eyes, clearly undeterred by her sharp tone. “I’ll have you know that looking good is part of the strategy.”

With one last look at me, he stretches out his hand and asks, “Ready?”

I nod, take his hand, and let him winnow me away.

———————————————————

Arriving at the southern border of the Autumn Court, I am immediately struck by the beauty of the landscape. The trees here are taller than I remember, their leaves a riot of red, orange, and gold, perpetually caught in the peak of autumn. The air carries the earthy scent of fallen leaves and the smoke of distant fires burning in hearths.

As we step onto the moss-covered ground, bittersweet memories flood my mind. I find myself thinking of the simpler days of my youth, the carefree ones.

I feel dark talons gently scraping at the shields in my mind and lwt Rhys in. So lost in the beautiful nature, I barely realize him wishing us good luck and winnowing back to Velaris.

Right after Rhys leaves, Azriel begins to scout the area for any magical traps or shields set by Koschei, leaving us to wait for his return. As the minutes stretch into an hour, my anxiety starts to build.

I pace restlessly, my mind conjuring all sorts of terrible scenarios.

Lucien tries to reassure me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“He’ll be fine,” Lucien says softly. “Azriel knows what he’s doing.”

But his words do little to calm me.

“How can you be so sure? He could be injured… or worse. We don’t know what Koschei is capable of!” I snap.

I begin to ramble, listing every possible way Azriel could have gotten hurt. “What if he’s caught in a trap? What if there’s a magical barrier he can’t break?”

Just thinking about him being in trouble makes me want to vomit. “That’s it. He’s taken long enough. I’m going to find him and—”

Amren steps in, her voice cutting through my panic. “Enough. Get your shit together. We don’t have time for this.”

Her bluntness shocks me into silence, and I sulk, feeling chastised.

But Amren isn’t finished. “Oh, quit acting like a child. Maybe if you told him about your feelings and the mating bond, you wouldn’t be so anxious, girl.”

My mouth drops open and I look to Lucien, his face also morphed into shock. When I look back to Amren, she just lifts an eyebrow.

“How do you know about the bond?”

Amren lets out a long sigh. “Only someone stupid wouldn’t have picked up on that. And Azriel being the stupidest of all.”

She rolls her eyes and starts picking at her nails. “We all suspected it. For a while we thought it snapped for Azriel too. The way he followed you around like a love sick fool, we were sure of it. But I guess it didn’t.”

I don’t say anything else after that, my mind not coming up with a response.

——————————————————

Another hour passes, and my worry only deepens. I can’t stop imagining Azriel injured or trapped, his shadows unable to find a way back to us. Every rustle of the leaves makes me jump, hoping it’s him returning.

Lucien tries to keep me distracted, but my thoughts are a whirl of dread. He tells me stories of his own missions, but I can’t focus on his words. My mind is entirely on Azriel.

Finally, just as the sun reaches its peak, Azriel returns. He looks slightly worse for wear, his clothes torn in some places and his face smeared with dirt, but otherwise unharmed. He notices the tension immediately, his eyes narrowing in concern.

“What happened?” Azriel asks, looking between us.

I step toward him, my relief overwhelming. “Are you okay? What took you so long?”

Azriel nods, his expression serious. “There were more traps than I anticipated. It took a while to disable them all, but the path should be clear now.”

Amren crosses her arms. “Good. We don’t have time for any more delays.”

Lucien places a hand on my shoulder again, this time with a reassuring squeeze. “See? I told you he’d be fine.”

I manage a weak smile, still shaken by the fear that gripped me. Azriel’s eyes soften as he looks at me.

“We should move quickly,” Azriel says, breaking the moment. “It won’t be long till they notice that their shields and traps were destroyed. Amren and I will accompany you to the Forrest House, then we’ll separate and follow the original plan. It’s too dangerous otherwise. We can’t risk you.”

Lucien nods and gestures for me to go first. “Let’s get moving then. The sooner we’re done here, the better.”

We begin to move deeper into the forest, leading to Beron’s residence. The beauty of the surroundings contrasts sharply with the danger I know lurks nearby.

As we walk, I steal glances at Azriel, wondering how he can be so calm and collected all the time.

Gods, I nearly lost my mind over him doing his job. I am a hypocrite for snapping at him the other day. Yes, I am mad at him for courting Elain, but I also can’t expect him to be loyal to me when he doesn’t even know that we’re mates.

How different things would be if it had just snapped for him the second it did for me...

It happened three years ago. Unbeknownst to us, we were just celebrating the last winter solstice without Rhys when it snapped into place.

One moment I was admiring him from afar, the next I was connected to him for the rest of my immortal life.

He had still been in love with Mor back then, so I chose not to say anything. A huge mistake, because soon after, Elain came into the picture.

Truthfully, I never thought they were anything more than friends until I overheard Rhysand ordering Azriel to stay away from her. It wasn’t until then that I realized I had lost him forever. He wasn’t going to stay away from her, so I accepted my fate and kept silent.

———————————————————

After five hours of hiking through bushes, stepping in rabbit holes, and nearly getting killed by a boar, I can feel the exhaustion creeping into my bones.

“Can we please take a break? My legs are going to fall off,” I ask.

Amren smirks, not breaking her stride. “And here I thought you were tougher than this.”

Only Rhysand’s plea to behave and work together holds me back from strangling her. Gods, she really is a cranky hag.

Lucien chuckles softly and turns to me. “We’re only a few minutes away. Hang in there.”

I groan but press on. As we finally crest a hill, the sight of Beron’s castle comes into view, exactly as I remembered it. The imposing structure looms against the deep orange sky, its dark stone walls lined with creeping ivy. Tall, narrow windows glint in the dawning light.

“It’s just like I remember,” I whisper, a mixture of awe and dread washing over me.

Lucien glances at me, his expression unreadable. “Let’s get ready. We need to find a way to get in there.” He points to the entrance of the castle, where nobles are lined up to enter the masquerade ball hosted by the High Lord himself.

We slip through the dense forest that surrounds the castle, our movements silent and precise. Azriel scouts ahead, his shadows cloaking him in near invisibility. After what feels like an eternity, we find a secluded spot to prepare for our infiltration.

“Here,” Amren hands both Lucien and me a stack of clothes. “These are your disguises. You will pose as Lord and Lady Hawthorn. The late Lord Hawthorn died three months ago. You are recently married with no offspring or heir yet. This is your first outing as Lord and Lady. Some might recognize your name, though they should not look twice your way. Be discreet and don’t draw attention.”

“What about the real Lord and Lady Hawthorn? What if they decide to turn up and out us as imposters?” I ask.

Azriel shifts on his feet and answers a bit sheepishly, “Don’t worry, they have already been dealt with.”

My brows furrow in confusion. “What do you—” realization dawns over me. “Oh… oh, okay. I guess that makes this a lot easier.”

I grab the clothes Amren gave me and head for the nearest bush to change. When I look back, Azriel has his head tilted sideways and smiles at me.

The dress I change into is a deep burgundy, adorned with delicate golden embroidery.

The fabric is soft and luxurious and fits me like a second skin. The mask is made of similar fabric, with intricate golden lace around the edge of it.

As I step out from behind the bush, my eyes find Azriel’s immediately.

His eyes, usually so guarded, widen slightly as they take in my appearance, his gaze lingering on the details of my dress and the way it clings to my form.

“You look… stunning,” he murmurs, his voice low and sincere.

I feel a blush rise to my cheeks and look away, focusing on Lucien. Lucien is similarly attired, his outfit complementing mine with its dark tones and subtle elegance.

He grins at me. “Shall we, Lady Hawthorn?”

I bark out a laugh. “We shall, Lord Hawthorn.”

———————————————————

Getting inside the Forrest House was easier than expected. We just walked right up to the entrance, stated our names, handed them our fake invites, and were ushered in.

As we step into the grand ballroom, the sheer opulence of the scene takes my breath away.

Crystal chandeliers hang from the high ceilings, casting a warm glow over the sea of elegantly dressed nobles. Musicians play softly in one corner, their melodies mingling with the murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses.

At the far end of the room, atop a raised dais, sits Beron, his cold gaze sweeping over the crowd. To his right stands Eris. Our eyes meet briefly, and I give a subtle nod, which he returns.

Lucien and I mingle with the guests, keeping our eyes and ears open, waiting for Eris to give us our signal.

As Beron rises from his throne, a hush falls over the grand ballroom. The guests turn their attention to him. He begins to address the crowd, his voice echoing through the vast space.

“Welcome, esteemed guests, to this celebration of our enduring legacy and power,” Beron proclaims, his tone laced with self-satisfaction.

Just as he is about to continue, the heavy doors of the ballroom burst open. A squadron of Eris’s soldiers rushes in, their armor clanking loudly. The crowd parts like a tide, murmurs of confusion and fear rippling through the room.

Beron’s confident façade falters, replaced by one of anger and panic. “What is the meaning of this?” he demands, his voice rising in pitch as he glares at the soldiers.

Eris steps forward, his demeanor calm and resolute. “Father,” he begins, his voice carrying a chilling edge, “it is time. Your reign has been marked by tyranny and cruelty, and I will no longer stand by and watch my people suffer under your rule.”

Beron’s eyes narrow, a sneer curling his lips. “You think you can overthrow me, Eris? It takes more than a few soldiers to claim this throne.”

Eris begins to smile. “Oh, I know. A noble to swear me in and an heir to secure the lineage, right? Well, here they are.” He gestures to Lucien and me.

My eyes widen as I whisper-shout in Lucien’s ear, “He cannot be serious? THIS is his plan?!”

Lucien replies, equally as quiet. “I have learned a long time ago not to question my brother’s way of handling things.”

“You are truly deluded, Eris.” Beron laughs, a harsh, mocking sound. “They won’t accept a random noble as your heir.”

Eris stands his ground, his gaze unwavering. “But they will. Take off your masks,” he says to Lucien and me.

And so we do. Nobles everywhere are gawking at us. Some eyes fixed on me, most on Lucien.

Beron steps down from the dais. “What a surprise. The lost son finally returns home.” He turns his gaze to me. “And you, you’re Lord Yarrow’s daughter, no?”

I don’t answer. Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could. I’m rooted in place, not taking my eyes off Beron.

Beron turns to Eris again. “Well, it seems you really are full of surprises. But you’re forgetting one important thing. You would have to kilI me to claim the throne. And you’ve always been weak, Eris. You’re not strong enough, but you shall try.”

In that moment, I realize what Eris was doing. He was provoking his father into accepting his challenge, and Beron just did exactly that.

“I’ve had a long time to prepare.”

And with that, all hell breaks loose.

———————————————————

Chaos erupts as Beron and Eris clash, their swords flashing in the bright light of the ballroom. Beron's strikes are powerful, but Eris is swift and precise, his fire magic flaring up with every swing.

Lucien and I are quickly surrounded by Beron's soldiers. The nobles' screams fill the air as they flee the room in terror. I manage to grab a blade as the first soldier aims right for my neck.

My heart races as I parry another soldier's blow, my muscles straining with each clash of steel. Lucien fights beside me, his own fire magic scorching the air around us, incinerating our enemies with fiery blasts.

The ballroom is a whirlwind of chaos.

As we cut through the soldiers, our eyes are locked on the fight between Eris and Beron. We try to reach them, but more and more of Beron’s soldiers are streaming in.

Eris and his father fight with brutal intensity, their swords ringing out as they meet. Eris dodges and strikes with a precision that keeps Beron on his toes, but his experience gives him the upper hand, forcing Eris back step by step.

Just as Lucien and I are within seconds of reaching Eris and Beron, the ballroom doors burst open again. Five of Koschei's soldiers, dark magic radiating from them, storm in. They immediately begin slaughtering nobles, women, and children alike. Their dark magic tears through Eris's soldiers as if they were paper.

Lucien and I have no choice but to turn away from Eris and Beron and face Koschei’s magic wielders.

I take several hits to the gut, and a sword slices across my cheek, but I fight on, managing to take down one of the dark soldiers. Lucien, with his fire magic, kills two more, but before the third soldier is turned into ash, he drives a sword straight through Lucien’s chest.

Lucien collapses to his knees, blood pouring from the wound. I rush to his side, my heart pounding in my chest. Lucien's eyes flutter, and he tries to speak, but I stop him. "Save your energy," I beg.

He begins to close his eyes, the loss of blood making him weaker and weaker. "Lucien, stay with me!" I cry, trying to stem the flow of blood with my hands.

I have to get him to a healer fast; otherwise, he will bleed out. So I do the only thing I can think of.

Desperate, I tug on the bond with Azriel, praying that he will sense my distress.

A moment later, Azriel bursts into the room, Amren in tow. Azriel’s eyes widen with panic as he spots me and Lucien. He rushes to us, dropping to his knees beside Lucien.

"Azriel, you have to winnow him back to Velaris," I plead. "Find Madja , now!"

Azriel looks torn. "I can't leave you," he says, his voice tight with fear. “I— not like this. Not with you being my—”

"Amren is here, I’ll be fine," I insist, glancing at Amren, who is finishing off the last two of Koschei’s soldiers. "Please, Azriel! I can’t watch him die. I am begging you, just go, please!"

Azriel nods reluctantly, wrapping his arms around Lucien. With a final, desperate look at me, he winnows away, leaving me behind in the chaos.

With Azriel and Lucien gone, I feel a pang of anxiety, but I have no time to dwell on it. I turn back to the fight, watching as Eris and the High Lord continue their deadly duel.

Around me, the battle rages on. I join Amren, who is ruthlessly dispatching the remaining dark soldiers with a ferocity that belies her small stature.

Together, we fight our way through the chaos, our movements synchronized from years of fighting side by side.

We are fighting for what feels like hours. My arms ache from dealing blow after blow, and my eyes are getting blurry from the lack of sleep.

I steal a glance at Eris and Beron, watching as they exchange hits. Eris manages to land a few blows, but Beron shrugs them off.

The two of them are evenly matched, but the High Lord’s power coursing through Beron's veins gives him a slight edge.

Suddenly, Beron lunges forward, his sword aimed at Eris's heart. Eris barely manages to block the strike, their blades locking together. Fire erupts between them, and for a moment, it looks like Eris might be overpowered.

But Eris digs deep, summoning a burst of strength. He pushes Beron back, their swords disengaging with a loud clang. Eris's flames burn brighter, and he steps forward, pressing the attack.

The next moment, everything is quiet. No swords clashing, no screaming, just utter quiet.

As the flames subside, there, in the middle of the ballroom, not moving, is Beron.

The High Lord of the Autumn Court is dead.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel #a court of thorns and roses #lucien x reader #azriel x you #writers on tumblr #eris acotar #rhysand #amren acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar x reader #azriel imagine

657 notes · View notes

yuvany · 2 months ago

Text

CORPSE BRIDE ft PARK SUNGHOON

SYNOPSIS : Sunghoon finds himself in a sticky situation, yearning to return to where he came from; the land of the living and be married to the one he feels his heart beating for..

CONTENT WARNINGS : unrequited love + angst + weapons + none of these character pairing (wony and hoon) are relavant to shipping, but just a choice of characters + blood + skeletons + graveyards + kidnapping + slight body horror description + fights

ACTORS : ENHYPEN SUNGHOON x corpse bride!FEMALE READER — side characters ; wonyoung as Victoria, Gaeul as Scraps

WORD COUNT : 4379

SUNGHOON DIDN'T MEAN TO RUN AWAY, and nor did he mean to meet you. He was simply just too nervous for the wedding his parents had set him up for. Sunghoon messed up his vows and set someone's attire on fire, but most embarrasing of all, he left his soon-to-be-bride alone and went into the woods to collect his mind and go over what he seemed to have rehearsed once too many times, but still gotten it wrong. It wasn't that Wonyoung, the girl he'd marry, was any wrong, if anything she was all everyone would want.

The dark woods where he found himself walking into was filled with tree branches sticking and poking out abnormally, and moss seeming to cover each and every stone he walked by. Slowly, he began to mutter the vows, "With this hand, I will...I will..." He gives it a second go. "With this hand I empty your cup. No that's not it." Sunghoon gets it wrong again and the crows that previously hid seemed to come alive now, causing commotion in the tree crowns while he continues to try to get his vows right, the bright moon now shining through the rustling leaves of the forest. "With this hand, I lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, I will be your wine." The sound of crows cawing becomes more insisting and demanding, encouraging Sunghoon to continue due to the new-found audience. "With this candle, I will light your way in darkness...with this ring..." He pulls out the ring from his pocket and looks at it for a second before kneeling down on one knee and propping the ring on a crooked root that extended from the ground. "...I ask you to be mine!"

The life from the forest had seemed to die in an instant, Sunghoon looks up at the quiet crows before attempting to pull the ring off the ring that had previously moved, but it manages to grab him around the wrist first. Just like that, he pulled himself free, pulling other roots along with him. While he is sprawled on the ground, he sees that the root has become a skeletal hand clamping around his wrist once more. Sunghoon exclaims in horror and shoves it away, and sees the ground in front of him split open, revealing a figure with a tattered and old wedding dress wearing his ring. "You may kiss the bride!" You cheer, but Sunghoon scrambles backwards, pushing and hitting leaves and roots while he tries to frantically escape. He makes his way through a graveyard and through the forest until he finds ease by the bridge, finally stoping to catch his breath, but when he turns around and sees you approaching him, and he is frozen in terror, letting you and the crows come close and encircle him.

The crows finally seemed to fly away and as Sunghoon looks around, all he sees are the misshapen buildings and totally different atmosphare from the last. "You were wonderful! So passionate. It was everything I dreamed of!" You exclaim giddily while a Black Widow climbs down your veil and shoots a web at Sunghoon when he takes a step back. "Now, dear, where do you think you're going?" Then an old maggot pops out of your eye, and you pop it right back in after it says, "I don't like him, he's creepy." The irony makes the situation all too hillarious, but scaring to Sunghoon who's still dizzy in the head from how sudden everything has changed.

"Oh Sunghoon! I can't wait for you to meet everyone!" You cheer excitedly. "How...how do you know my name?" He asks, hesitant, his knees quivering as he stands behind you. "You think I'd marry a stranger? Come one!" You grab him by the hand, pulling his sloppy body behind yours. You take him to the town squere while Sunghoon does his best to try to get help and get back to where he came from. He calls out, "Help! You have to help me, I've been kidnapped by . . . " before he finishes his sentence, the passer-by turns around to reveal that he is also a corspe. "...the dead." He mutters the last part unenthustiastically and recoils in horror. "He's a fresh one." Someone comments. "He's still soft." Another ones inquires, poking at Sunghoon with a stick. Everyone gathers around to observe the human.

"He's my husband. He gave me this ring!" You show it off to everyone proudly, your arm extended out and the crowd cheered and awes at the sight. Sunghoon gets overwhelmed by this, someone eagerly shakes his hand and makes a comment on how it stayed, then someone else figured put that he was breathing, fortunately, and getting close enough to hear his panting. "Oh please, leave him alone. He's only just arrived." You interrupt and turn to Sunghoon, your left eye popping out in the process and reveals the maggot from before. "We saw the whole wedding. It was romantic!" The green coloured being recalls, and from behind, the Black Widow appears again. "He reminds me of my third, seventh, twenty-fourth, and sixtythird husbands." "Before you ate them?" The maggot asks. "There was one thing missing though. He forgot to kiss the bride." Upon hearing what the maggot said, the crowd errupted in chants like highschool boys before a match in the locker rooms, and you giggle at this, hearing them chanting, "Kiss her! Kiss her!" This all still seems so surrel to Sunghoon, and he feels his eyelids shut and his knees buckle before it turns black.

Sunghoon wakes up and finds himself in some sort of pub with green flames lighting up the place, and in his field of vision, he sees skeletons leaning over him. "Have a drink dear boy." The waiter says, his head peeking through the fire and only his head is visible. He slides Sunghoon a glass before greeting you. While you mingle and spark conversations, Sunghoon waits there with wide eyes and horror as he inspects the area. He sees a band of corpses playing on some exotic instruments made of bones and scraps, and he also sees someone playing chess with a sword through his chest, and someone's jaw snaps and falls into someone else's bowl. Sunghoon feels like he's about to snap again, his knees feel restless like they want to run away and his palms are coated with glistering sweat. When no one's looking, Sunghoon finds the perfect opportunity to stand up and grabs the sword that had pierced one of the skeletons before, his sudden confidence and action caused everyone to stop what they were doing, and now they were looking at him in shock.

"Keep away! I have a ... Dwarf, and I'm not afraid to use him!! I want some questions! Now!" Sunghoon's hands are shaking and the nervousity is evident in his stance and voice. "Answers. I think you mean answers." Someone else corrects him. "Thank you, yes, answers. I need answers! Where am I? Why am I here? And who is she?!" Sunghoon calls out.

The lights suddenly dims and a spot light shines on the stage. "Since you're askin' . . . Hit it boys!" Someone on stage snapped his fingers and they began singing and dancing. After the show took a pause, Sunghoon uttered, "Pardon me, fellows, i''m going to be sick." Then they returned to singing again, and the cook hit the singer with her ladle.

The pud seemed so alive even though everyone here, excluding Sunghoon was dead. You plant a big kiss on his cheek after the song ends, leaving Sunghoon totally stunned.

You and Sunghoon were led to a table that was romantically lit by a single candle that created a comfortable atmosphare. "Dead! Demise...expired..." Sunghoon sprouted out of frustration. Then the head chef, named Paul, comes forward and speaks with a thick and clear accent. He asks if Sunghoon has any allgeriges, and he says, "Not that it matters anymore. Being that I kicked the bucket. Shuffled off this mortal coil." He says disheartened. In front of him, both you and Paul exchange awkward glances. "Young man, you are confused. You're not dead. You're just married!" Paul says, trying to cheer him up, but Sunghoon looks like he's had enough. "Very funny." "No, really. It's true." You say, and holds his hand above the candle on the table which makes him yelp out in pain. "Feel better?" You ask sincerily. Sunghoon rubs his hand and answers, "That hurt. But wait...that must mean...I'm still alive. I'm alive!" For the first time ever since he spoke his vows he seemed happy. The chef is annoyed by this, but you smile along with Sunghoon, happy that he is finally happy.

"But how can a living person marry a dead person?" He asks. "By making a vow! Which you did!" You say, smiling through it all. "But I'm already supposed to marry Wonyoung." "I'm sure she'll get over it. There's a lot of living people." You can sense how Sunghoon isn't trusting you yet.

"This Wonyoung. Did you love her?" You ask. "i never got the chance to find out. Truth is, we hardly know each other." Sunghoon sulks. "The thing is, Sunghoon, I know a lot about you. i've watched you wandering around the forest...sketching." Sunghoon perks an eyebrow at this and asks, "What? when?" "Haven't you ever felt like you weren't alone, even when you were? Or saw something out of the corner of your eye and turned and it wasn't there?" you ask and he nods. "It was me" You see how he finally relaxes and is deeply moved by this for some reason.

"We live in two different worlds, but they overlap sometimes. I think we're meant to find each other." You say. "i don't even know your name." he argues, his eyebrows are visibly knitted together as his eyes wander all over the place. "I can't believe I forgot to tell you my name...in all this excitement. My name is y/n." "I also have a little wedding gift for you." You whispered through your bony fingers and out comes a skeleton dog that rushes over to the table with its tail wagging happily. "Gaeul! My dog!" Sunghoon cheers after reading the name tag, happy to see her after a long time of being separated. Gaeul jumps up on his lap and licks him on the face. "I knew you'd be happy to see her." As you say that, the dog jumps up on the table and causes a ruckus that mkaes even the cook from earlier to interupt. "Who let that horried beast in here?" the cook exclaims in horror, her laddle waving at the dog. "He came in with the dog." Paul, the waiter, from before remarks, his eyes finding Sunghoon's. "I'm afraid he is mine. I mean was. Gaeul was my dog when I was a little boy." "Keep him out of my kitchen! Who knows where he's been." The cook cuts him off while he reminisce. The small canine friend jumps onto his lap happily while she barks.

"What a cutie." You say. "You should've seen her with fur." Sunghoon replied, while petting Gaeul. "Mother never approved of her jumping up like this. But yet again, she never approved of anything." Sunghoon sulks at the memory. "Do you think she'd approve of me?" You ask curiously. Sunghoon mocks a light of happiness and tells you, "Well, actually...now that you mentioned it, I think she would. Yes!I do believe she would. In fact, since we're m...married...you should meet her! And my father too. You should meet both my parents!" he awaits your reaction nervously. "What a fantastic idea! Let's go find them. Where are they buried?" You ask enthustiastically. "Oh, there's one slight problem..." Sunghoon whispers. "What is it?" "They're not from around here." You ask him where they are, and Sunghoon points his finger up indicating that they are still alive and breathing.

You take him to an elderly who helped creating a potion that took him and you back to the living world. You both pop up in a cementray in the night while it all had become gray again. You take a moment to yourself, missing the moonlight, so you dance under the trees, catching his full attention as your dress resembled smoke. You took a deep breath in and asked him which house was his. Sunghoon takes a moment and points to one on the right, which isn't his own home, but Wonyoung's. "Why don't I go first to prepare things?" He lies, and you trust him. After Sunghoon had ran away in the dark, the maggot and black widow appears again. Complementing her by how immensly trusting she is, but with a backhanded meaning to their words.

You now think about the situation. Sunghoon is here, in the living world, where he had mentioned a girl he was suppose to marry. With determination, you followed the path Sunghoon had previously taken. You climb up the balcony, hearing voices. "Sunghoon, what's wrong?" You hear a young female voice ask. "I seem to have found myself married. And you should know it is unexpected." He replies hesitantly. You push yousefl up at last, accidentally detaching your leg in the process. "Oh dear, and I did so want to make a good impression! I couldn't wait, darling. I wanted to meet …" Your tone sounded cherry at the start but gradually lost its light after looking up post fixing your leg. You see Wonyoung standing in front of you. Upon seeing this, you wrap one of your arms around Sunghoon's.

"Darling. Who is this?" You sneer at her. "Sunghoon! Who...What is this?" Wonyoung says horrified when she sees the ring on your finger. Sunghoon's head turns to you then Wonyoung once too many times. "Wonyoung, wait you don't understand! I can assure you it is not what you think- She's dead! Look!" He takes your boney arm and flaps it back and forth causing Wonyoung to scream. "Who is she?" You ask. "Yang Wonyoung. The girl I'm supposed to marry." Sunghoon admits. Suddenly the sound of loud banging is heard from through the door and muffled voices are heard yelling.

"You tricked me!" You say aggravated and grab his tightly, saying the word that the elder had told you to say if you wanted to return back to where you came from. Sunghoon panicks and yells for Wonyoung to save him.

"YOU LIED TO ME! Just to get back to that other woman!" You shout, your eyebrows knitted with anger. "Don't you understand. You are the other woman." Sunghoon says saddened, causing your heart to shatter. "No! You're married to me! She's the other woman!" Your hectic movements came to a halt as you wrapped your face with your bont hands and began to cry, Sunghoon is unsure of what to do and stands there awkwardly. The force of yoru tears makes your eye escape the socket, and with no other choice, Sunghoon picks it up and hands it to you again. "Look, I'm sorry....this just can't work." Sunghoon points out the elephant in the room that wasn't that obvious to you. "Why not? It's my eye isn't it?" You ask while putting it back in. "No...your eye is fine." "Really?" Your mood elevated and now you were looking at him lovetsruck again.

"Yes. Listen under different circumstances, well, who knows. But, we are just too different. I mean you're dead." He accentuates. "You should've thought about that before you asked me to marry you." You pout. "Why can't you understand? I'd never marry you!" The words struck you through the chest as if leavening a stinging sensation blooming in your chest. The words were sharp and they hurt you in ways you didn't expect Sunghoon to do. Instead of lashing out at him, you just hang your head down and turn around to walk out the elder's study, leaving Sunghoon feeling like sore thumb.

As you walk away with your head hung low, you pick up your old and dried wedding bouquet and name a couple of flowers, your sadness represented in your tone. Sunghoon can do nothing but watch as you walk away. Your two companions, the Black Window and Maggot are perched on your shoulders like birds as they tell you that Sunghoon isn't someone worth your precious mind and tears, in hopes to cheer you up.

Sunghoon walks up to you in the restaurant with the bouqet in hand, his steps are cautious in the still envirounment. "I think you dropped this..." He whispers, approaching closer and closer to you who is playing with the piano. You don't need to spare him or the flowers a glance before snatching them. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I lied to you about wanting to meet my parents. Truth is, I'm happier not to see them." he apologises, but you don't turn around nor acknowledge his attendance. The green maggot pops out once more. "Oh! Save it for the living girls, Hoon. I think you've said quite enough already." He comments.

"I never meant to-" Sunghoon gets cut off by the Black Widow appearing once again. "I've had dozens of husbands, none as awful as you. You should be ashamed!" She snarls, her legs waving hysrerically, pointing to him. "But I..." The Maggot is not early to cut him off again and says, "You're married now and there's nothing anyone can do about it. You might as well get used to it." It sounds harsh, but deep down, Sunghoon knows and understands where it's coming from.

"Don't bother, you can't force him to like me." You sulk, your back hunched. "But I do like you. Truly. It's just this evening hasn't exactly been going accoding to...plan." Sunghoon says awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. It is quiet for a while, so quiet that you'd hear a pin drop.

Sunghoon takes a seat on the chair beside you and begings playing on the piano with you. You paus and sneer at him before continuing. It continues like that, Sunghoon improvising and turning this to a duet. The melody is bitterweet yet loving, a tune for only the two of you. Gradually, you open up more, taking the spotlight for a riff, your hand popping off from your wrist and slides across the keys. You pick it up with a giggle. "Pardon my enthusiasm." "I like your enthusiasm."

IN THE VILLAGE SQUERE, spirits and skeletons are gathered with newfound energy to party. Sunghoon looks at the tear of his jacket, and before he can stare at it any longer, Black Widow appears and sews it up again, making it seem like a new jack. All the commotion is interupted by a 'newcomer'. Everyone is eager to see who it is, and Sunghoon almost immedietly calls out for the familiar figure. After chit-chatting with him, Sunghoon learns that Wonyoung is to be married with none other than Heeseung, one of the closest people to his family. Not too far away, you observe his reaction with your eyebrows knitted.

The decorations are set and everyone is cheering and celebrating. You happened to find an elder and speaks with him for a while about marriages. He tells you how it was back in his days when vows where simple and got done with rather quickly after you mentioned how quick yours and Victors were. "Lucky for me, I didn't have to! I was rather silent!" You joke, and when you look at him again, he is dead silent, not moving at all. "Excuse me?" He asks. "I was rather silent?" You repeat, now a lot more hesitant and unsure. "You didn't say your vows?" You shake your head. "My child, you muct both say the vows for the marriage to be binding." The air is still as you stare at each other. You had accidenatlly tricked Sunghoon this whole time, and now you were afraid he'd know about this and run away.

"Surely there's some way to fix this?" You're desperate to get an answer now. "You'll have to complete the cermony by saying your vows." "I'll say them right now!" Your breath is caught in your air way as you choke this out only for the elder to shake his head. He tells you that since the original cermony occured in the land of the living, your vows will need to be in the land of the living as well. Your bones are shaking and you can't bear to hear someone else tell you to be 'reasonable'. If you want to go to the living world, then so be it, but you don't want him to tell you that maybe the two of you weren't meant to be. You wanted to cry out of anger, it was as if nothing you ever desired would land in your arms easily. You have had enough of this.

"Listen up people! Listen up! There's a change of venue! Grab what you can and follow me! We're moving this party." Everyone cheers in excitement, but the elder has a look of concern on his face. While on the way, people rocket quesntions your way, and you ramble out an answer in an instant, not wanting to seem suspicious to Sunghoon in any way.

IN THE WORLD OF THE LIVING You and Sunghoon are close like a set. It is all well and the elder flips through a book as you and Sunghoon joing him for the ceremony. "Let's get straight to the vows. Living first." He bows to Sunghoon. You slip the ring off your finger and place it in his palm, he smiles at you, and you smile back, but there's a piece of guilt in your heart. After he finishes his vows, putting the ring back on your finger, the elder motions for you to say your vows. You take a deep breath in and began to speak, but half-way through you spot a familiar face hiding in the courner of the place, horror written on her face, it was Wonyoung.

"I can't" You pause. "What's wrong?" Sunghoon asks confused. "This is wrong." You let a tear roll down your cold cheek. Once again, you pull the ring off your finger. As you look at him you recall the desperate moments you shared with Sunghoon, it was embarrasing to think that this could be; the living and the dead. It all added up likes puzzle pieces and you were finally ready to accept the truth that stung so badly, leaving a permanent scar deep, deep within the old ones that are yet to heal.

"I LOVE YOU, Sunghoon, but you're not mine. My dreams were stolen from me, and now I've taken them from someone else." You look over at where you had seen the young lady, Wonyoung, before, and Sunghoon does so too. "Wonyoung!" he whispers to himself at the sight. Upon being the new centre of attention, you ask Wonyoung to come forward, and she does. You take her hand in yours, and asks Sunghoon for his as well. You gently place his on top of her hers, happy for them to finally be reunited. "Oh, how touching. I always cry at weddings." Another familiar voice calls out, and everyone looks over at the gate to reveal Heeseung causing the trio to gasp. "Our young lovers together at least. Surely now they can live happily ever after." He walks upp to the altar and grabs Wonyoung by the wirst, succesfully snatching her away from you two.

"you." you whisper, your pupils shrinking at the horrid sight. "y/n?" He echoes, equally as shocked. "You!" you repeat angered. "but-but, I left you" He stutters, and you finish his sentence, "for dead." This statement causes everyone in the crowd to gasp. Heeseung does his best to escape, even pulling a sword from someone's body only to first aim it at Wonyoung's throat and then at Sunghoon who challenge him to a duel. It is an intense chase of cat and mouse before Sunghoon gets knocked down on the floor, the sword aimed at his face. Heeseung doesn't hesitate to strike his sword at him, and you don't hesitate either to come in between, grebbing the sword that had stuck in between your ribs. You pulled it out and aimed it at him.

"get out." you ordered him. "Oh, I'm leaving." he says, walking up to the altar and grabbing a cup from the table all whilst you're still on guard. "But first, a toast to y/n!" he says raising his cup with red liquid. "Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Tell me, my dear, can a heart still break once it stopped beating? hmm?" His words are harsh, leaving yet another scar. You silenly watch as he takes a gulp of the cup which he thinks is wine, but is actually poision, and he dies just before he manages to get out of the building.

While the rest of the corpses takes care of the now dead Heeseung, Sunghoon and Wonyoung are snuggled together. "I never thought I'd see you again." You walk away, not wanting to disturb their moment until you hear the male voice call out for you to wait. "I made a promise." He says, chasing behind you. "you kept your promise. you set me free. Now, I can do the same for you." You say one last time, pulling the ring off your finger and encaving it in his palm by clasping yours around his before turning around. The tears are eager to escape, but you wont let them, not now at least. With one last glace behind, your throw the bouquet in your grasp to the newly made couple with a smile before you stepped out in the bright moonlight. The second it hits your veil, it began to crumble and turn into small butterlies and just like that, you disappeared with no regrets.

TAGLIST : @dollyhoon @itjengirl @saeivra @orimuraa @pshwrldd

391 notes · View notes